"Yes, your grace."
That was all she gave him. The ladies leaned forward for the rest. There was no rest.
She did not weep. She had stopped in March, at a graveside in Bloomsbury, when the last of her tears went into the clay with the coffin. Since then she had found that grief was a debt, and debts could be carried.
"You may go, Larkin," said the Duke.
The maid. Then not even a name that belonged to her.
She bobbed and went.
She was almost to the door when she heard Dr. Sutherby lower his voice to the room, pleasantly, as if sharing a kindness.
"You must see how much I have done to keep her here," he said.
Why did a duke let seven scholars sit 10 years over one stone? Why had he ended her over a glance, when he had not troubled to look at her face?
She did not know.
She knew a smaller thing, and it sat in her apron pocket, soft as cloth with handling. It was a child's copy book, ruled in her dead husband's hand.
On Tuesday, standing in the shadow of the plinth, she had read the second line of the stone. It had not said one word about kings.
* * *
That evening, the servants' hall smelled of mutton fat, wet wool, and news that had not yet decided whether to be kind.
Mrs. Puit was waiting at the foot of the back stair.
She was 60, wide as a door, and had kept Kestrel Mere for 30 years on one ring of keys and a low opinion of scholars. She wore her spectacles on a cord and her opinions on her face.
"Four maids," she said. "Four in 10 years. Each looked at that stone, and each was gone by Michaelmas."
"I did not look at it," said Hester.
"You did? I would have."
Mrs. Puit handed her a mug of tea with the grim tenderness of a woman handing over a loaded pistol.
"Drink that. You lasted 3 weeks. That is a record."
Something warm and heavy leaned against Hester's knee.
Judge was the Duke's deerhound, gray as a wet slate, 12 years old, and permitted every room in the house. He had followed her since her first morning. He did not follow anyone else.
"Traitor," said Mrs. Puit, without heat.
The dog sighed and settled his chin on Hester's boot.
* * *
The next morning, Dr. Sutherby met her at the tablet room door with a watch in his hand.