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

Chapter Twenty-Two

I couldn't seem to shake the comments that Esther and James had made as I returned to the house that evening and settled down to complete my evening chores. Although I knew it to be ridiculous, I could think of nothing more absurd than the idea that Robert considered me a sweetheart and myself think of him the same way. In truth, I thought them both to be a little out of place to suggest it in the first place, but I didn't want to say that to them. Instead, I pushed the thoughts of my mind and attempted to focus on something different as a new week began.

The new week entered with high gusts of winds and dark clouds that threatened to burst and soak whoever happened to be caught on the grounds. With a cold front approaching, Miss Jenkins set me the task of lighting the fires in the drawing-room, dining room and living room whilst Esther helped her with breakfast. During the brief cold period we experienced in the Summer months, Miss Jenkins had taught me how to start a fire and keep it stoked all day. As apprehensive as I may have been about starting a fire, I could find no way to argue my way out of it. Miss Jenkins reasoned that I had been stoking the brazier in the kitchen so setting a fire in a fireplace would be no hassle.

She had been right in some respects but lighting the brazier and lighting a fireplace were two completely different things. Still, I had learnt the skill and headed to the drawing-room to light the first fire. My knees pressed against the rug as I stacked logs of varying sizes on top of each other, leaving a small gap in the centre for the match. Soot from the chimney breast and around the inside of the fireplaces covered my hands and the edges of my sleeves as I pulled the matchbook out of my pocket. Striking the match, I placed it amongst the logs and poked it with the fire poker, watching as the fire jump from the match to the longs and start to burn fiercely.

Wiping my hands on a cloth, I placed the metal guard in front of the fireplace and tucked the matchbook back into my pocket before sitting back on my heels. My fingers were blanked from the soot as I tried to wipe the substance off my hands but to no avail. A cloth would not help.

"I never thought I would see you lighting fires," Doctor Ealing said. He stood in the doorway with his hands tucked into this jacket pockets and he regarded me with a raised eyebrow and the smallest of smiles.

"Neither did I, but this fire is more controlled. Unless I stick my hand into it, it poses no threat," I said.

"Well, that's one way to look at it, I suppose, though I expect you didn't see yourself doing this when you first came to work for us."

"To tell you the truth, Sir, I thought you would keep me out of the way given that I'm not exactly a typical servant, nor my circumstances all that typical," I clenched my left hand at my side.

"I suppose that's true. I wondered, perhaps, if I may ask you a question." Doctor Ealing removed his hands from his pockets and stepped into the room, closing the door slightly behind him.

"Of course, Sir. This is your house, after all, I daresay you have the right to ask anything you please."

"Valid reasoning." He smiled slightly, even though what I had said would most likely have given me an infraction if I had said it to Mrs Ealing. "I was curious as to how you are finding working here? I meant to ask a little while ago but so much has happened recently that I could hardly find the time."

"I'm grateful to have been given the opportunity, Sir, especially given recent events."

"But?"

"That's all there is to it, Sir. I'm grateful to be working here," I lied.

The truth haunted me more then I cared to admit, and I certainly wasn't going to talk to Doctor Ealing about it, especially if I could hardly comprehend it myself. I did still enjoy working for the Ealing's, most who left the factory were never lucky enough to gain a position in such a welcoming household. Yet recent events, particularly those involving Mrs Ealing had forced me to rethink it and my future as a servant. Mrs Ealing would never force me out of the house, I could never allow her to do that, but I wondered if I could save everyone the hassle by leaving on my own terms. If I was going to leave, I wanted it to be my choice, not because I had been forced out.