after I had gone to bed, Cook came in to see me. She sat on the foot of my little bed and it tipped a little southwards.
âIs everything cleared away now?â I asked, for there had been a dinner, with eight courses and many wines.
âYes, everythingâs done.â
âDid you finish the batter?â I asked, for fresh cakes were required tomorrow.
âAll ready to bake in the morning. The reverendâs coming so Iâm doing a lemon pudding as well as the fig and raisin.â
I knew how nicely the kitchen would smell next morning.
âDo you understand, now?â she asked me, and I knew she was not referring to the cake.
âI do,â I sniffed. âIâm sorry, Cookie. I did not mean for you to be turned upon. You kept telling us and we would not listen.â
She nodded and passed a rough hand over my hair.
Encouraged, I continued. âLady Vennaway is a horrible, horrible woman, is she not, Cookie?â
Cook hesitated. âEveryone has their own story, even those we find the hardest. Best to accept things the way they are and count your blessings. After all, Amy, youâre luckier than many and shorter than most.â It was a jest often voiced amongst my companions, on account of my small size.
I nodded and smiled but as I did so I knew it would be hard. That afternoon, buried beneath the shock, I had felt anger, like a little hard seed waiting to sprout.
âI donât want you go to that horrible place,â I told Cook as she got to her feet and my bed rocked back to the horizontal.
She paused, puzzled. âWhat place?â
âJeopardy. Mistress said your place was there but it isnât , itâs here with us!â
Cook was too weary to correct my misapprehension, but she told me what I needed to hear. âA fine cook is a hard thing to find. One who can cope with a house like Hatville rarer still. As for one who can tolerate her ladyship, well, thereâs probably only one such in all of England. So donât you worry now, Iâm going nowhere, except up four flights of stairs to my bed. Mistress knows which side her bread is buttered.â
I was unsure why the mistress should concern herself with buttering bread at all when she could have cakes baked fresh to her command, but I promised myself that I would mind Cook better henceforth. She was all I had now. After the dreadful things that Lady Vennaway had said to her daughter, I knew that I would never see Aurelia again. The thought was almost too terrible to bear.
Then morning came, and with it the warm, sweet fragrance of baking. And Aurelia, radiant in the doorway.
âCome on, Amy, itâs a beautiful day! There is dew on the cobwebs and rainbows in the dew, and the world is altogether as it should be. Letâs go outside!â
Chapter Ten
What a wonder to see the countryside of Surrey through the window of a train! What an experience to be carried, jolting and swaying, past fields and streams and woods and cottages. What a marvel to see it fly past so swiftly!
What is there that is not remarkable about the railway? From its rapid growth to its staggering speedsâ thirty miles per hour , I am told, in some places!âto its pounding and steaming and gleaming . . . all quite, quite extraordinary. Yet the most remarkable feature of the railway, to my mind, must surely be its passengers.
I share a carriage with a couple in their middle years, Mr. and Mrs. Begley. They introduce themselves as they squeeze in with a goodly number of cases between them and sit just opposite me. I believe Tom would have approved them as conversational partners for me, but in truth I have no choice in the matterâMrs. Begley has not drawn breath since Ladywell.
âOh, my Lord!â she exclaims, fanning herself with a limp hand. âWhat a trial, what an exertion, this railway nonsense. Look at me, I am shaking!â She holds out a hand, mere inches from my chin,
A D Holland
Grif Stockley
D. W. Collins
Jane Rusbridge
Christine Warren
Lily Evans
Selene Chardou
Samantha Young
Gary D. Svee
Unknown