Fenella J. Miller by Christmas At Hartford Hall Page B

the window and filling in her journal. Then she had several novels to read and her needlepoint to finish. The time would fly by. Before she knew it, Christmas would be over and she could start her new life.
    By suppertime, when not even bread and water had been brought to her, her optimism was fading. Without water to drink, she would not survive her incarceration. There were several oranges in the basket but these would not provide her with the liquid she required.
    Deciding time would pass more quickly when she was asleep, she readied herself for bed. Her nightgown was warming nicely by the fire. She had only to remove her undergarments and slip it on and she would be done. Quite unexpectedly, her dressing room door opened and Mrs. Blake, plus three maids, bustled in.
    “I’m so sorry we could not come earlier, miss, we had to wait until the mistress and master were safely retired. We have a tray for you. You must keep some of it for tomorrow as I fear it will not be until this time again that we can come up to you.”
    The delicious aroma of cook’s leek and potato soup wafted from the tureen. Her stomach gurgled loudly and her visitors laughed. Sally set a chair at the table and dished up a bowl. “Here you are, Miss Baverstock. There’s fresh bread and butter to go with it. Then you have game pie and redcurrant jelly and to follow a slice of apple pie and cream.”
    Not wishing to be left out, Mary chimed in. “We have brought you a large jug of lemonade, hot water and cold, and to drink now, a pot of coffee.”
    “Thank you. You have risked your positions to bring me this, I could not bear it if you were to be dismissed because of me. I see you have plum cake, cheese and pickles on the other tray. With the fruit I already have, I shall manage for a day or two. You must not come again tomorrow, it’s far too risky.”
    For the first time Ann, who was the household seamstress, spoke up. “Food is not the only reason we have come, Miss Baverstock. I have brought my pins and measuring tape. We are going to make you a ball gown.”
    Elizabeth felt her throat thicken. How could she tell them she did not dare to go to the ball even if she they managed to make her something suitable? “How kind of you. Do you intend to alter something that I already own? I fear there’s nothing suitable in my closet for such a grand occasion.”
    Like a conjuror, Ann reached behind her and a cascade of gold tipped over the rag rug. Elizabeth fell to her knees, burying her hands in the silken material. The stuff was soft and shimmering and when she held it to the candlelight it sparkled as if lit up by tiny gemstones. “This is so beautiful, where did you find it?”
    The four of them exchanged conspiratorial glances and Mrs. Blake answered. “Never you mind about where it came from, my love, it’s yours by right and we’re going to sew you the most beautiful dress anyone has ever seen.”
    Sally held a swatch up to Elizabeth’s face. “See? The colour’s perfect with your pale gold hair. I shall make ribbons from the scraps and thread those through your hair, Mary’s an expert at making roses, we thought to sew them in a swirl around the skirt.”
    “Just a moment, I’d quite forgotten, I have something that belonged to my mama.” She dashed into the dressing room and rummaged through her sewing box. “There, I have them.” Triumphantly she ran back and tipped the small cloth bag out onto the gossamer material. A fountain of little golden beads tumbled down.
    “Oh my! These will be perfect, miss, I shall decorate the neckline and the sleeves with them,” Ann said happily.
    “All we need to complete the outfit are gloves and evening slippers. Do you have anything suitable in your closet, Miss Baverstock?”
    Sadly, Elizabeth shook her head. “I haven’t, I never dine formally so I have no gloves apart from those I wear outside. My only evening slippers are black leather, but I shall wear them if I have to.”
    Mrs.