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

Chapter Thirty-Five

With the cane half-way across the front lawn, I made my way down the gravel path and towards the stables. Although my knee ached whenever I put too much pressure on it, I was able to reach the stables faster than I would have with it. Doctor Ealing may have meant well when he suggested I use the cane, but I could walk just as fine without it. This wasn't my first knee injury and I had my doubts it would be my last.

I reached the stable and pulled open the door, glancing around to make sure Samuel wasn't around. He wasn't. The horses whinnied as I stepped into the stable and closed the door tightly behind me. Fresh straw covered the stone flooring and the wind shook the wooden ceiling and made it shudder slightly as I walked down the centre towards Biscuit's stall. In the six months I had been working for the family, I often found myself talking to Biscuit if I didn't want to talk to anyone else. Sometimes it would be in the middle of the night when I had woken from a nightmare about the foreman. I would always be back in the house before Esther woke up, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who couldn't talk back.

Biscuit nudged me with his nose as I undid the latch to his stall and slipped inside, bolting it behind me. I ran my hand along his nose and back as I moved further into the stall and towards the back corner. In all the time I had slipped away to the stables, Samuel had never found me if I tucked myself away in the far corner where no one could see me unless they looked into the whole stall. Samuel had cleaned the stable earlier that day, so I simply sunk into the straw and laid my legs out along the base of the stall, rearranging my dress so it covered my knees.

The stables were colder than the main house with the wind slipping through the small holes in the wood and allowing the cold air to enter. After years in the factory, I had gotten used to the cold and it almost felt welcoming compared to the usual heat from the fireplaces burning in the house. I had spent years wishing to be free of the factory, yet I still found comfort in the things that I hated for so long. The cold had been a constant dislike of all of ours, yet in this instance I welcomed it. There was something familiar in it and it was that familiarity that I clung to.

I leant my head back against the wall and glanced up at the ceiling whilst the wind roared just outside. If there had been any uncertainty about my leaving, even if it were the smallest piece of doubt at the back of my mind, it had gone. Miss Jenkins and Esther's conversation had decided for me. I would be better off with James then staying in a house where I no longer felt wanted. Not feeling wanted at the factory meant nothing as I couldn't simply walk out the gates unless I had injured myself severely, this time I could leave, and no one could stop me. Not that they would have.

"What are you doing here?"

My head darted down at the sound of the voice, thinking I had been caught out by Miss Jenkins or even Doctor Ealing, but it was Samuel. He stood at the side of the stall looking through the bars that made sure Biscuit didn't escape and go bolting across the grass. I relaxed slightly and let my head fall back against the side of the stall.

"Thinking."

"Odd place to think, though I suppose the sound of horses can be comforting. Is everything alright?"

"Not really."

Samuel sighed before undoing the bolt to the stall and stepping inside. He lightly brushed his hand along Biscuit before joining me at the far end of the stall. Our of everyone in the house, it had always been Samuel who I could tell anything to. He had been the first person to know I had lied about the burn all those months ago, he knew it had been Mrs Ealing who had struck me with the cane, and he knew Matthew had asked me to live with him. I trusted Samuel more than I had trusted anyone else in my life, so I had been glad he was the one who found me in the stables. Had it been anyone else, I'm more than certain I would have been in trouble.