Page 21 of The House of Quiet

River gestures at the kitchen, unaware of Birdie’s growing suspicions. “Cook is indisposed, so we’re making supper. Hope you like stew, because it’s too late to start anything else!” She lifts the lid on a large pot simmering on the stove. The room fills with aromatic steam.

“Hope you like stew with the wrong seasoning ,” Minnow grumbles.

“You’re going to love it.” River brandishes her spoon menacingly.

“Do you know how to make bread pudding?” Birdie asks River. A small test, since bread pudding has been popular among the wealthy for the past year. “It would make Dawn so happy. She’s really been sweet with Nimbus today.”

River’s eyes light up. “If Dawn’s happy, everyone’s happy.

I’ve helped make dozens of bread puddings, because my family’s cook is the only tolerable person in the whole house.

” River grabs Minnow’s arm, drags her to the stove, and shoves the spoon into her hands.

“Stir. And don’t you dare mess with the seasonings. ” She disappears back into the pantry.

“I don’t work for you,” Minnow grumbles.

For the first time in as long as she can remember, Birdie’s useless. The only thing left to clean is the pile of dishes, but she can’t do those without getting in River’s way.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Minnow asks. She drops her voice to a whisper. “The stew is good. I can’t admit it after telling her she was doing it wrong, though.”

Birdie leans against the counter and peers into the bubbling pot.

“I don’t have anything to do.” It’s such an unfamiliar sensation.

Though she’s always depended on her fellow maids, there was never a moment there wasn’t too much work for all of them.

But today, between Minnow actually helping and a shocking amount of labor and aid from the rich residents, Birdie can… rest?

“Speaking of nothing for you to do,” Minnow says, “I cleaned the top floor. We won’t need to do it again for at least a couple of weeks, since no one goes up there anyway. One less thing to worry about.”

Maybe Birdie’s been wrong about Minnow. But she won’t let her guard down. About either Minnow or River.

River hurries past them, checking the temperature of the oven and muttering to herself that it needs to be hotter. Or colder. She can’t seem to make up her mind. Birdie loses a little faith in the prospect of bread pudding.

“I cleaned the second floor, too,” Minnow continues. “Have you noticed our rooms were converted from closet space?”

That explains their strange proportions.

She hates her narrow room. Birdie doesn’t want to be that confined and alone until she’s dead.

“Why didn’t they just put us in the empty bedrooms?

” She wishes she were sharing a room with Minnow and Rabbit.

It’s so hard to sleep in silence. Plus, every maid knows it’s safest to never be alone.

Birdie shudders, remembering the House Wife looming over her in the darkness, watching her sleep.

“Empty bedrooms?” Minnow echoes.

Stupid! Birdie scrambles to cover up how she knows what’s behind the locked doors. “One of them was open. Just a room with a narrow bed.”

Minnow puts the lid back on the stew. “Strange. I could have sworn all those doors were locked when I checked them yesterday.”

Before Birdie can think of a reply, Rabbit appears. She bounces off the doorframe, not quite making it into the kitchen. She giggles, then stumbles in and sits with a whump at the table.

Minnow shoots Birdie an alarmed look. Birdie shares the sentiment.

It’s one thing for Cook to drink, since she’s clearly worked here forever, but Rabbit should know better.

With her lack of experience, she’ll never be paid more than she is right now, and her family spent everything they had on her procedure.

Birdie’s plan to have Rabbit removed curdles in her stomach.

Looking at the pathetic maid now, all Birdie feels is compassion.

She’ll find Magpie, but she won’t destroy another young woman to do it.

And she won’t betray who she is and where she came from.

They help where they can, and Birdie can help here.

“I’m getting her to bed before anyone sees,” Birdie says. Minnow nods, mouth pursed tightly. Not in judgment, but in shared worry.

Birdie guides Rabbit down the hall toward the stairs. Rabbit stumbles and weaves, her weight nearly all on Birdie. They hit the wall together. Rabbit slides down to the floor. She sits with her legs splayed in front of her, skirts in disarray.

Birdie’s aghast. “What did you do today?”

Maybe the House Wife is the one who let Rabbit drink.

It’s an explanation, but not one that makes any sense.

Nimbus’s neighbor, the minister of justice, had a nasty reputation for luring girls from the lower quarters to his home with the promise of good food and fun.

The House Wife doesn’t seem like that type of person.

And how is she treating Sky, if she’s busy drinking with Rabbit or taking advantage of her?

Is it possible there’s someone else back there Birdie hasn’t met yet? An actual doctor?

It’s baffling how little Birdie knows about what’s happening in this house. How little anyone knows. Not even Dr.Bramble, who works on the procedure, could tell her how the house works or who is here. Why keep them separate? It makes sense to combine procedure and treatment.

Rabbit’s giggle fades. Her eyes fill with tears. “I helped the house. I’m too tired. I’m too tired to go upstairs, Birdie. I’m sorry.”

Birdie’s at a loss. She can’t get Rabbit up the stairs on her own. Maybe she can get Rabbit back to the kitchen so they can prop her up in a chair. Maybe no one will notice.

There Birdie goes again with the maybes.

As though summoned by her anxiety, Forest appears at the end of the hall.

Birdie is ready with excuses on Rabbit’s behalf.

She might hate Rabbit for having the procedure wasted on her, might resent her for getting in the way of Birdie’s work here, might despise her for risking her entire family’s future by messing up so badly, but she won’t let another maid be ruined. Not if she can help it.

Forest leans down and gently picks Rabbit up. He looks at Birdie, waiting.

Birdie scurries ahead. She unlocks the stairs, then leads him up to their hallway.

He carries the insensible maid like she weighs as much as a stack of clean sheets.

When Birdie points out Rabbit’s room, Forest lowers the girl onto her bed, then backs out so Birdie can get into the narrow space.

She removes Rabbit’s scuffed black boots and tucks her in.

“Get some rest,” Birdie says. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Birdie will protect Rabbit while she sobers up, and then they’ll have a serious discussion about Rabbit’s responsibilities.

But Rabbit will be in no condition to function early tomorrow.

Birdie still wins. She’ll get the spot helping the House Wife, and she didn’t have to destroy an innocent girl for it.

She knows she’s not helping Magpie as viciously as she could, but she thinks Magpie would approve. She hopes so, at least.

She closes Rabbit’s door. Forest is waiting in the hallway, eyebrows raised. This must be the first time he’s been upstairs. None of the residents are allowed up here, and the stairs are alwayslocked.

Forest gestures at Birdie’s own room. She left the door open, and she fights the urge to be embarrassed now that he’s seen she’s essentially living in a closet.

“Not quite as nice as downstairs,” Birdie says. Her room is ruthlessly tidy. The only evidence that she’s staying in it is her friend’s last drawing, propped up on the table behind the washbasin.

I’m sorry , she said against the wood separating them right before she went to the minister with her demands for a placement in the House of Quiet. I’m leaving to find my sister. Will you come?

This was the response. It’s a forest, the sharp lines of ink rendering everything menacing. Soaring above it is a single tiny bird. Something in the way the bird cuts through the sky fills her with hope. But the bird is alone. Her friend stayed behind that door, and Birdie left them behind forever.

It’s a reminder. Both of what she came here to do, and what it cost her.

“But that’s all right,” Birdie continues, filling in the silence. “I don’t mind small spaces. It’s just too quiet up here. Like this whole house. And some people in it,” she teases. Then her stomach drops in horror. She’s gone too far. She can’t tease him.

Instead of anger, Forest’s full lips twitch in a smile.

He puts a single finger over his lips. She wants it to be her finger instead.

She takes a step backward. She needs to remember who she is.

Who he is. Why she’s here. This whole day has been confusing, starting with the House Wife creeping into her room and ending with Birdie getting help from so many unexpected sources.

“We should—” she starts, but stops.

There’s a pattering of footsteps above them. Light, like someone dancing across the floor. But who would be up in that unused space right now?

Seized with sudden, inexplicable hope, Birdie sprints down the hall and up the stairs. But when she reaches the top, the echoing space is empty. No one dancing. No sisters twirling until they get so dizzy they both fall down, splitting open the younger sister’s eyebrow.

It’s empty. So whose footsteps did she hear?