The Butler s tale 1
My employer, or at least, my employer’s mother the dowager Lady H, was her usual disagreeable self. The Dowager or Lady Margaret. She must have been in her forties though she would have passed for sixty with ease in her dowdy black widows attire. She was still in mourning for her late husband who had departed this mortal coil some two years since. A happy release the staff surmised. Not that he was ill, merely hen pecked. She read the last of her letters. She sighed in resignation...