Excerpt from Undermajordomo Minor by Patrick deWitt, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Illustration by Chloe Cushman/National Post

Mr Olderglough said, "My experience has been much like yours. I find it something like corralling children, wouldn't you say?"

"It is."

"But you are holding up, my boy?"

"Oh, I'm fine, sir." Actually, Lucy found the task of tending to such people amusing; and this was reflected in his bearing. Now Mr Olderglough had ceased speaking but was only watching Lucy, and with fondness.

"What is it, sir?"

Mr Olderglough considered his answer. "Just to say that I'm glad you're here with us, boy. Your very mettle has been tested within these walls, and for what it's worth, you've impressed me, and you have my thanks."

How curious for him to have spoken these heartfelt words, and seemingly out of the blue; and curiouser still, that Lucy should have found himself so touched by the sentiment. But there he was, swallowing a lump in his throat, and when he replied, it was with sincerity. "Thank you very much, sir. And I hope you know that I'm glad to be here with you all, also."

"Good, then." Mr Olderglough patted Lucy's back. They approached the scullery, and a mischievousness came into the older man's voice: "Now, boy, I hope this doesn't offend, but we've taken a liberty tonight."

"Oh?" said Lucy. "And what do you mean, sir?"

"A liberty has been taken, is all. Blame Agnes. We needed the extra hand, and she believed it would please you." Mr Olderglough opened the door and bade Lucy enter first. Stepping into the scullery, he found Klara standing in the centre of the room, wearing a maid's uniform and a timorous look on her face. Her hair had been cleaned and combed and was pulled away and back; her forearms were bare; her white filigreed smock tied tight about her tiny waist. Here was Klara, only a wholly separate version of her, all the more elegant and feminine, and as Lucy absorbed this unpredicted dream of beauty, then did he feel himself falling in plummeting love a second time.

Agnes, from the larder, called for Mr Olderglough, and so Lucy was left alone with Klara. He moved to stand before her.

"Who did this?" he asked.

"Don't you like it?"

"I like it."

"Agnes helped me with my hair."

"I like it."

"She has rougher hands than my father."

"I think you look very nice and I like it very, very much."

She was smiling, staring at the floor. "But do you really like it?" she said.

"I like it. I love it. I love you."

She looked up now, pleased and relieved by his reaction; for life in the village had never afforded her such finery as this, and she could see how impressed Lucy truly was. Stepping in closer, she reached out for him. Gripping his arm, she paused, and drew her hand away. "What is that?"

"A salami."

"Why do you have a salami in your sleeve?"

"It's not my salami."

"Why — do you have a salami in your sleeve?"

Mr Olderglough returned from the larder and, upon seeing Lucy and Klara so closely paired, began to loudly clap his hands; over the sound of this, he called to them: "No time for the cooing of doves! Klara, you will go with Agnes in the larder! Lucy, you will assist me in preparing the dining room! We shall cease living for ourselves but only for the others! Servitude is an art! Now and now!" He continued his clapping and encouragements as he walked from the scullery and into the hallway. "Search within yourselves! Excellence! Magnificence!"

Lucy and Klara were smiling. He kissed her forehead and followed Mr Olderglough but cast a final look over his shoulder before exiting the room: Klara straightening her dress; the loveliness of her profile as she spun about, girlishly, and stepping to the larder. Lucy hurried after the sound of the clapping, which was ongoing.

Excerpted from Undermajordomo Minor by Patrick deWitt. Copyright © 2015 by Patrick deWitt. Excerpted by permission of Ecco. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.