Matilda obeyed. The moment she took the weight from her injured foot, the pain sharpened before slowly easing.
An older maid named Mrs. Bell entered with warm water, clean linen, and a small wooden box of household remedies. She had served at Falconhurst longer than Matilda had lived there, and possessed the grave face of a woman who considered fussing a moral weakness. Yet when she saw the stained ivory slipper, something tightened around her mouth.
"That one again," she murmured.
Matilda looked at her. "Again?"
Mrs. Bell realized too late that she had spoken aloud.
Mrs. Canning glanced at her, then at Matilda. "Let us remove it first."
The satin had dried against the torn skin at Matilda's heel. Mrs. Canning worked slowly, wetting the edge of the slipper before easing it free. Matilda gripped the arm of the chair, but made no sound.
Mrs. Bell noticed. "You needn't prove anything in this room," she said.
"I'm not proving anything."
"No?" Mrs. Bell raised one eyebrow. "Then you're very quiet by nature."
Matilda almost smiled.
The slipper came away. The injury was not grave, but the skin was raw and bleeding where the seam had rubbed through. Mrs. Canning cleaned it carefully. "No infection if we keep it clean. No more satin shoes until this heals."
Matilda looked toward the door by instinct. "Mrs. Dracott will expect me downstairs."
Mrs. Canning did not even turn her head. "Mrs. Dracott may expect the moon to be lowered into her soup tureen. It does not follow that the household must arrange it."
Mrs. Bell coughed to hide a laugh. Matilda's smile came and vanished quickly.
"The musicians will need someone."
"The musicians have survived wars, marriages, and several sopranos," Mrs. Canning said. "They will survive one evening without you." She lifted the slipper and examined the inside. Her brow furrowed. "This has been altered."
Mrs. Bell looked down. "Twice."
Matilda turned to her. "You know that?"
Mrs. Bell hesitated. "I fetched it from the dressing room this afternoon. I remembered the stitching."
"Whose was it?" Matilda asked.
Mrs. Bell lowered her voice. "Miss Celia Barrows, before she married and left the house three years ago. Smaller feet than yours by half an inch, perhaps more."