Summerset Abbey by T. J. Brown Page B

had a pall on it because they were going to say good-bye to their father and she wasn’t allowed to go, despite her own immeasurable grief and longing to bid him a final farewell alongside her sisters.
    Now Prudence stared at the rag, unsure of what she was being asked to do. She’d never had to clean the pots and pans. Katie had always done that. Susie grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the scrub room, a dingy, windowless room with two more giant sinks. “Here, I’ll show you. The work will go so much faster with two of us.”
    Susie wore her mousy brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. The sleeves on her blue-and-white-striped shirt were rolled up, showing strong arms in spite of her small size. She stood smaller than Victoria, and Prudence thought she couldn’t be more than fifteen, but her motions were quick and competent.
    Susie grabbed a small bowl and mixed together silver sand, salt, vinegar, and a little flour. Once she’d stirred it into a paste, she took a pot with one hand and a scoop of cleanser with theother. “Then you scrub like this.” She worked the paste into the pan with a quick rubbing motion.
    Screwing up her face, Prudence scooped up a small handful of paste. Susie nodded encouragingly. “That’s it. Now scrub.”
    The vinegar and salt stung Prudence’s hands, but she scrubbed, tentatively, until Susie reached out and pushed her hand hard against the pan.
    “No, you have to press harder. That’s why you can’t do it with rags, see?”
    So Prudence scrubbed.
    The pots were so tarnished, she thought it would never come clean, but when it finally did, she found a certain satisfaction in taking a dull pan and making it look shiny and bright.
    “Do you have to do this every day?” she asked.
    “Every bleedin’ day,” Susie said grimly. “Look at my hands.” She held out a hand for Prudence’s inspection. They were small and capable, but the skin was chapped red and the knuckles swollen.
    “Language!” Cook yelled from the kitchen.
    Susie rolled her eyes and continued scrubbing.
    “Do you like your job?” Prudence asked.
    Susie snorted, “I’m the scullery maid. What do you think? I’m the lowest of the low.” She leaned closer and whispered, “But I’m hoping to be a cook someday.”
    Prudence couldn’t imagine a life where being a cook was the highest of one’s aspirations. But then were hers any better? She just wanted to take care of those she loved. Maybe have a family someday. What she wanted in life didn’t seem nearly as important as what she didn’t want: to be facing everything alone. But Susie didn’t seem intimidated by the thought of a solitary life,because cooks never married. “What’s so great about being a cook?” Prudence asked.
    “Much better pay. And you get to order other people around all day!” Susie yelled this last part over her shoulder.
    “I heard that!” Cook yelled back from the kitchen, and Prudence and Susie giggled.
    “I’ve worked here for about eight months. It’s not a bad job. The food is good. I have a roof over my head and I’m working for an earl, which lets me lord it over my sisters on my days off. They just have day jobs in town.”
    “Do you like the Earl?” she asked.
    “Oh, I’ve never met him. I met the Countess once, when she hired me. She said I looked a likely gal and I got the job. I was so nervous!”
    Prudence frowned and scrubbed with renewed vigor. How odd to take such pride in working for an earl when he hadn’t even bothered to meet someone in his own employ.
    Though Susie said the work would go faster with the two of them, it seemed to take forever. Then the bells started ringing on the bell board and everyone snapped to attention.
    “They’re back from the service.” Cook grabbed some silver salvers from the china closet. “They’ll be wanting their tea.”
    Hortense came hurrying down the narrow stairs. Prudence had seen her only once, in passing. She noticed she didn’t have to wear an