“Is it safe?” The words barely settled in my ear before I turned, ducked, and place a hand just under the bed to still her voice.

“Not yet,” I whisper-shout. “Now hush!”

I stand quickly, my hands smoothing my uniform so I don’t show any wrinkles. I suck in my gut, poke both my chin and bosom out, and wait for Mr. Harrom to walk by.

I hear the clip-clop of his shoes and I stifled a giggle as the image of a Clydesdale wearing a monocle; a giggle that was instead sounded by my charge, hiding under the bed I was guarding. I stomp my foot and smile, hoping she got the message.

By the sound of his footsteps he is just around the corner. I’m ready and in full parade rest by the time he comes into view. His myopic vision sweeps over the unused-yet-dusted bedroom before he walks away, his hard sole shoes heralding himself to the next maid.

Emilia pokes her face from under the bed frame, dust in her hair and a smile plastered on her face. “Is he gone, Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart. He’s gone,” I sigh.