"Please, come with me," Margaret pleaded, but the new maid wouldn't budge. She was barely recognizable as Mrs. Wellington...something Margaret only now was noticing.
Gone was the fit mature woman she worked for. While the new maid fit into her uniform, making them the same basic height, if she didn't know better, Margaret would have placed her in her twenties, but she could have been much older. Looking into her eyes, there was nothing in them she recognized. The disdain she was used to from Mrs. Wellington was replaced with innocence, and a little fear.
It was clearly too late for the woman...and for herself. Rachel was no longer distracted, and had turned her attention back to Margaret.
"I think you'll see that you have the situation here quite wrong," Rachel said. "You strike me as a sensible person," she said. "And we already have a maid here, and have no need of another one..."
Margaret stared at her, a mixture of fear and anger on her face.
