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

Chapter Eleven

I returned to the house that evening in a carriage paid for by Matthew and the fear that I was actually going to have to tell Doctor Ealing about my shoulder. As I had left Matthew and James, they had both made me promise that I was to get my shoulder looked at before Tuesday, when Matthew was due to visit Doctor Ealing about his hand. I had agreed and there was no way for me to get out of it after I had made the final promise. I never made a habit of breaking promises and I certainly wasn't going to start now, especially if it ended up affecting my relationship with Doctor Ealing and my new relationships with my own siblings.

When I walked through the back door and into the kitchen, neither Miss Jenkins nor Esther were around and only a small candle lay flicking on the table. Tucked under the candle holder was a letter reminding me to lock the door and hurry to bed so I could be up early for the morning chores. I grabbed the candle holder and locked the back door with the key that Miss Jenkins kept above the door frame. Once the door was locked, I took the candle and quietly climbed the stairs to the room.

Placing the candle on the chest of drawers, I undid the clasps at the back of the dress and pulled it over my head. Before putting my nightdress on, I glanced in the mirror at my exposed shoulder to see just how bad the bruising was. It looked as though it extended past my shoulder and creeped towards my collar bone whilst also creeping down my upper arm. The swelling wasn't as bad as it had first seemed, with my shoulder and collar bone only slightly larger then they should have been. Shaking my head, I grabbed my nightdress and pulled it over my head. I then blew out the candle and climbed into the bed beside Esther. It didn't take long before I fell asleep.

"How was supper yesterday?" Miss Jenkins asked when I emerged the next morning.

"It was good. It did feel a little strange to see James again," I replied.

"Sebastian seems like quite the handful, he didn't sit still throughout the whole of yesterday's service."

"He wasn't very still during supper, either. I think he was wearing more of the cake then eating."

"Sounds like Zachariah when he was that age." Miss Jenkins placed a plate of toast in front of me and turned back around to the sink. "Doctor Ealing said he wanted to see you in his office first thing so hurry up and eat."

"Did he say why?"

"No, but I don't think you're in any sort of trouble. I overhead him saying he will be needing an extra pair of hands at the office this week, so I expect he'll use as a way to get you out of Mrs Ealing's hair."

"Here's hoping."

The idea of getting out of the house for a few hours throughout the week sounded like a welcomed relief compared to having to spend the time looking over my shoulder and making sure I didn't do anything stupid to get another infraction. It also meant that telling Doctor Ealing about my injury wouldn't have the same impact on my day-to-day chores if I wasn't doing the chores themselves. The time in the office would allow my shoulder to recovery and I could use it to prove to Matthew that I kept my word. I was solving two problems at once and that was perfectly fine with me.

Whilst Miss Jenkins prepared breakfast for the family, I devoured the toast on the plate and pushed myself up. Brushing the crumbs off my skirt, I stood up and fixed one of the pins in my hair before leaving the kitchen and Miss Jenkins to find out just what Doctor Ealing had in store. The house was silent again as I made my way up the stairs and out into the hallway just as Robert emerged from the top of the main stairs. He grinned at me knowingly before the two of us walked the short distance down the hall towards Doctor Ealing's office.

Robert drummed his knuckles against the door and paused for a moment until Doctor Ealing called from within. When he did, Robert twisted the door handle and held the door open as I shuffled inside and stood in front of Doctor Ealing's desk with my hands clasped behind my back. Doctor Ealing was at his desk with his glasses perched on the edge of his nose and his hair looking as though it had been untouched as it stuck up in all manner of different directions. In front of him was a sheet of paper and he held a pen which he drummed absent mindlessly against the desk rather than writing anything with it.