She was right; Max’s father, called Master Stevens by everybody in town, probably wished that his eldest & only son was a bit more orthodox, to spare the Stevens name from further suspicion or shame.

“Why, were you lookin’ for him?” she continued.

Celia shook her head. “Not really. I was just hoping he wasn’t looking for me.”

Molly froze mid-peel. “Do ya think y’did somethin’ t’upset him, now?” she asked nervously, referring to the supposed curse on the housekeeper’s position.

“I hope not. I’ve been on the staff for years, but you know I’ve only been in this position since summer. I was wary of Max before, but now I can’t seem to have a moment of peace! He’s constantly over my shoulder at the worst possible moments! He’s just waiting for me to falter!” Molly nodded sympathetically.

“Well, just as long as y’keep yourself out of the burner,” she sighed finally. “I don’t mind the occasional gizmos, but when Master Maxwell starts hinting at those concoctions & procedures I get all a-flutter.”