The Serving Girl // Book 2 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Nine

The next morning, I awoke in a far better mood then I had been when I went to bed the previous evening. The prospect of my afternoon off was always enough to brighten my mood, and that Sunday was no exception. Whilst Esther preferred to spend her afternoons mending her stockings or holes in her dress, I always spent mine down at the river and trying to improve my reading skills. Even with the weather starting to turn, my trips to the river were always my favourite part of the week.

Pushing the blankets off my legs, I rolled my right shoulder and stretched my left arm behind my back. My shoulder felt better than it had the previous day with only a small amount of pain running down my arm as I moved it. To me, it was a sign that things might just start working themselves out. If my shoulder no longer caused me pain whenever I moved it, then I could continue my chores the next day without the risk of damaging it any further; or dropping another bucket of water. I was optimistic that things would finally start to return to a sense of normalcy.

I stretched my neck out slightly before climbing off the edge of the bed and crossing the room to the chest of drawers. Esther muttered something in her sleep and rolled onto her side as I tugged open the drawer and produced a pale pink dress that I wore to Sunday service. Mrs Ealing wasn't too impressed at the thought of me getting a Sunday dress alongside two work dresses and a pair of boots. Although Mrs Ealing was none too happy, Matilda gladly handed over one of her old dresses so I wouldn't end up attending service in my grey dress.

Esther rolled over once more as I tugged the dress on and fastened the lace

of my boots as tightly as possible to keep them secure. Pinning my hair up in a knot and jamming my bonnet on my head, I left Esther to her sleep-talking and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. Sunday's were always the quieter days in the house as everyone slept in until it was time to leave for the service. Whilst most Servants attended their own service in London, the Ealing's attended an open service where all were invited, servants and masters, alike. Esther said Mrs Ealing was none too happy with the arrangement, but there was nothing she could do about it.

With the house wrapped in a blanket of silence and Miss Jenkins most likely still in bed, I grabbed a small glass from one of the cupboards and filled it up at the sink. As I sipped the water, I glanced around the kitchen, spotting the laundry against the wall where I had left it the previous day. My stomach groaned and ached slightly as my eyes drew to the piece of cherry pie on the table, most likely leftover from the previous night. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before and although I had concluded that eating during the work hours was just a waste of time, eating on a Sunday seemed like a good idea.

"That's yours from last night. You're welcome to have it for breakfast if you wish. It's a Sunday so I won't judge you," Miss Jenkins said, stepping into the kitchen.

"Cherry pie for breakfast? I don't believe I've heard of such a thing," I said, smiling slightly.

"I have. Esther and I have indulged in some treats the day after Christmas, it would have been a shame for the leftovers to go to waste."

"My brothers and I did the same thing, though we usually did it when Mother and Father were still in bed. I expect they knew what we were up to, we were never very subtle about it."

"I'm trying to figure out if your brothers were a bad influence on you or if you were just a trouble maker."

"A bit of both, I suppose."

"Sounds about right. Go on, take the pie. I won't tell if you won't, not that I have anyone to tell."

Miss Jenkins nudged the pie across the table and crossed the room to pull a fork out of one of the drawers. She handed me the fork and gestured to one of the chairs around the table. Smiling, I took the fork and slid into one of the chairs that sat an odd angle. I grabbed the edge of the plate and pulled it towards me. Whilst Miss Jenkins busied herself with getting the morning tea ready for the family, I tucked into the cherry pie. My stomach groaned in appreciation as I almost inhaled the entire slice of pie before Miss Jenkins had boiled the kettle.