pounds and would work off the debt or die in the attempt.
Obviously Priscilla’s doing . Poor Michael intended marrying this spoilt, vindictive woman because she came from a wealthy, titled family. How could he?
She took off her bonnet before slipping out of the gown and draping it across the bed. Later, she would have to rig up a line so her clothes could hang properly. Putting on a blue skirt with a matching top, she glanced at herself in the fly specked mirror and pulled a face.
If James ever found out about this treatment he would be furious, but Robbie would come charging over intent on retribution. It wasn’t Michael’s fault . He would never do such a spiteful thing, but it hurt that he didn’t care enough to check on her comfort.
She could complain, demand better quarters, but pride held her back. Priscilla, probably realizing this, felt confident her vindictiveness would not be discovered . She probably wants me to cringe and grovel to get better treatment, but I’d die before giving her the satisfaction. They can string me up naked and flog me to death and I still wouldn’t plead for mercy , she squashed down the note of hysteria rising in her throat by taking several deep breaths. Closed-in dark places had always frightened her, and this dungeon sent icy prickles along her spine.
Back in the kitchen, she put on a white apron before sitting down to help prepare the vegetables that were to go with the roast suckling pig. Under Mrs. Smith’s eagle eye, she peeled and cut potatoes, while the smell of the pork roasting in the oven made her mouth water. She could kill for a cup of tea but none was offered. Of course, kitchen lackeys should expect no consideration.
They didn’t speak in the housekeeper’s presence, but once she departed, Annie, a girl of about twelve or thirteen, smiled shyly. “Mrs. Smith doesn’t like you.”
“I know ,” Melanie grimaced. “I don’t like her much, either. Have you worked here long?”
“A few months . My father is one of the grooms. Mr. Guilford keeps a large stable.”
“Yes. I mean, I heard he did.” Better not to let anyone know she had once been an honored guest here, in what seemed like another lifetime. “Are there many other house servants?”
The girl nodded. “Lady Priscilla has her own personal maid, brought her all the way from England. Mrs. Knightsbridge, her chaperone, hardly ever leaves her room. I’ve only seen her once when they first arrived. Maggie, who sets up the tables and serves the food, is married to Mr. Guilford’s valet. She’s sick at the moment, so Juliet, Lady Priscilla’s maid, is doing things. There are some other housemaids, but I don’t see much of them.”
“Do you like it here?” Both girls kept working as they spoke.
“I liked it better when Mrs. McMurray was housekeeper.” Melanie nearly opened her mouth to say she liked Mrs. McMurray as well, but stopped herself.
“Has the new maid arrived yet?” A young woman swept into the kitchen wearing a black frock covered by a white lace apron. A frilly white cap perched on her dark curls.
“Yes, I’ve arrived. I’m Melanie O’Dea. Are you Juliet?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mistress send you?”
“Lady Priscilla? Mercy no , I wanted to see what you looked like. Thought you must have been a real witch the way she described you.”
“What are you doing gossiping in my kitchen?” Mrs. Smith minced in.
“Just going, ma’am.” Behind the housekeeper’s back Juliet poked out her tongue, and Melanie stifled a giggle.
“Bring in some more water,” Mrs. Smith ordered. “The well is near the kitchen door.”
Rising to her feet, Melanie picked up a bucket in either hand and traipsed out to the well. Fortunately, it had a pump. The old dragon would have been quite happy for her to climb down into the well itself to bring up the water. If she happened to fall in and drown, so much the better.
She carried the buckets back inside, then watched as Mrs. Smith
Obviously Priscilla’s doing . Poor Michael intended marrying this spoilt, vindictive woman because she came from a wealthy, titled family. How could he?
She took off her bonnet before slipping out of the gown and draping it across the bed. Later, she would have to rig up a line so her clothes could hang properly. Putting on a blue skirt with a matching top, she glanced at herself in the fly specked mirror and pulled a face.
If James ever found out about this treatment he would be furious, but Robbie would come charging over intent on retribution. It wasn’t Michael’s fault . He would never do such a spiteful thing, but it hurt that he didn’t care enough to check on her comfort.
She could complain, demand better quarters, but pride held her back. Priscilla, probably realizing this, felt confident her vindictiveness would not be discovered . She probably wants me to cringe and grovel to get better treatment, but I’d die before giving her the satisfaction. They can string me up naked and flog me to death and I still wouldn’t plead for mercy , she squashed down the note of hysteria rising in her throat by taking several deep breaths. Closed-in dark places had always frightened her, and this dungeon sent icy prickles along her spine.
Back in the kitchen, she put on a white apron before sitting down to help prepare the vegetables that were to go with the roast suckling pig. Under Mrs. Smith’s eagle eye, she peeled and cut potatoes, while the smell of the pork roasting in the oven made her mouth water. She could kill for a cup of tea but none was offered. Of course, kitchen lackeys should expect no consideration.
They didn’t speak in the housekeeper’s presence, but once she departed, Annie, a girl of about twelve or thirteen, smiled shyly. “Mrs. Smith doesn’t like you.”
“I know ,” Melanie grimaced. “I don’t like her much, either. Have you worked here long?”
“A few months . My father is one of the grooms. Mr. Guilford keeps a large stable.”
“Yes. I mean, I heard he did.” Better not to let anyone know she had once been an honored guest here, in what seemed like another lifetime. “Are there many other house servants?”
The girl nodded. “Lady Priscilla has her own personal maid, brought her all the way from England. Mrs. Knightsbridge, her chaperone, hardly ever leaves her room. I’ve only seen her once when they first arrived. Maggie, who sets up the tables and serves the food, is married to Mr. Guilford’s valet. She’s sick at the moment, so Juliet, Lady Priscilla’s maid, is doing things. There are some other housemaids, but I don’t see much of them.”
“Do you like it here?” Both girls kept working as they spoke.
“I liked it better when Mrs. McMurray was housekeeper.” Melanie nearly opened her mouth to say she liked Mrs. McMurray as well, but stopped herself.
“Has the new maid arrived yet?” A young woman swept into the kitchen wearing a black frock covered by a white lace apron. A frilly white cap perched on her dark curls.
“Yes, I’ve arrived. I’m Melanie O’Dea. Are you Juliet?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mistress send you?”
“Lady Priscilla? Mercy no , I wanted to see what you looked like. Thought you must have been a real witch the way she described you.”
“What are you doing gossiping in my kitchen?” Mrs. Smith minced in.
“Just going, ma’am.” Behind the housekeeper’s back Juliet poked out her tongue, and Melanie stifled a giggle.
“Bring in some more water,” Mrs. Smith ordered. “The well is near the kitchen door.”
Rising to her feet, Melanie picked up a bucket in either hand and traipsed out to the well. Fortunately, it had a pump. The old dragon would have been quite happy for her to climb down into the well itself to bring up the water. If she happened to fall in and drown, so much the better.
She carried the buckets back inside, then watched as Mrs. Smith
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