thing or two I want to know about things I shouldn’t.”
I followed Bridget’s gaze and encountered Sean Killdaren’s green eyes and his imposing, black-draped figure. “I know exactly what you mean, Bridget. Tonight we’ll read about vampires.” I set the book aside until we finished cleaning then hid it in the ample folds of my dress when we went back to our room.
My hopes for more revelations about Mary or to conduct any investigations met a frustrating end my second day in the castle. Mrs. Frye kept Bridget and me so busy we didn’t even get a moment’s respite, and I couldn’t explore. We worked until the evening meal, then Bridget retired to our room and I went to dinner. If not for my plan to steal food for Bridget, I would have gone with her to our room. Jamie did not appear, but Stuart did. He ate quickly and left without saying a word.
I myself could barely swallow the food on my plate. I kept thinking of Bridget alone in our room doing without her meal because of me, and that burned inside. I’d never given much thought to the demands my family made of the handful of servants in our home, or of the power to help or harm that I held as an employer. But in my short time at the castle, I’d quickly learned about the power the upper servants had over the lower servants and the harshness of the servants’ world.
I managed to snitch three pieces of cheese and some bread, wrap them in a clean silk handkerchief, and tuck them into my pocket for Bridget. I think Mrs. Murphy caught me, but averted her gaze and went on speaking to Janet and Adele Oaks, asking them if they’d take the clean-up after the meal until the blisters on my hands healed. It surprised me that she noticed my blisters and that the Oak sisters agreed. I knew they had to be exhausted too, and shouldn’t have to bear the burden of my work as well. I thanked them and Mrs. Murphy, feeling tears sting my eyes at their kindness. They had so little and worked so hard, yet gave so freely to help another. I couldn’t recall many of the ladies in Oxford’s social strata who would be that kind under these conditions.
Everyone in some manner or another seemed to be silently protesting Mrs. Frye’s judgment against Bridget, but nobody voiced their opposition, and I didn’t either, I realized with surprise. My desire to stay employed in the Killdarens’ castle outweighed any principle of right I’d be willing to stand upon. At least when it came to the matter of punishing Bridget by taking away a meal. Something more severe I was sure I would have stood up for what was right no matter what.
I’d learned something, though. Had someone written to “Cassiopeia’s Corner” about this very situation, I would have advised her to stand on principle. Yet, now that I was in the situation, I had chosen differently. The more I lived of life away from the isolated world of my home and family, the more difficult the answers to even the simplest questions became.
Bridget nearly cried when I handed her the bread and cheese. I wanted to hug her, yet I didn’t, sensing she would reject any overtures of comfort on my part. She ate quickly and then we settled on her cot, huddling by the light of a small candle to read the vampire book. We went through the alphabet and the sounds each letter made, many of which Bridget already knew, then we read only five sentences of the vampire book before her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.
I couldn’t blame her. The day had been exhausting and the vampire book had offered very little excitement, just a description of an old stone church and a lonely woman entering it to pray. I’d expected that a book about powerful vampires and their lovers would have started out differently and I set it aside disappointed. After tucking Bridget beneath her blanket, I spent the next hour bathing, with only the basin of cold water available to ease my skin irritations and curtail the growing sense of dirt clinging to my body. I
I followed Bridget’s gaze and encountered Sean Killdaren’s green eyes and his imposing, black-draped figure. “I know exactly what you mean, Bridget. Tonight we’ll read about vampires.” I set the book aside until we finished cleaning then hid it in the ample folds of my dress when we went back to our room.
My hopes for more revelations about Mary or to conduct any investigations met a frustrating end my second day in the castle. Mrs. Frye kept Bridget and me so busy we didn’t even get a moment’s respite, and I couldn’t explore. We worked until the evening meal, then Bridget retired to our room and I went to dinner. If not for my plan to steal food for Bridget, I would have gone with her to our room. Jamie did not appear, but Stuart did. He ate quickly and left without saying a word.
I myself could barely swallow the food on my plate. I kept thinking of Bridget alone in our room doing without her meal because of me, and that burned inside. I’d never given much thought to the demands my family made of the handful of servants in our home, or of the power to help or harm that I held as an employer. But in my short time at the castle, I’d quickly learned about the power the upper servants had over the lower servants and the harshness of the servants’ world.
I managed to snitch three pieces of cheese and some bread, wrap them in a clean silk handkerchief, and tuck them into my pocket for Bridget. I think Mrs. Murphy caught me, but averted her gaze and went on speaking to Janet and Adele Oaks, asking them if they’d take the clean-up after the meal until the blisters on my hands healed. It surprised me that she noticed my blisters and that the Oak sisters agreed. I knew they had to be exhausted too, and shouldn’t have to bear the burden of my work as well. I thanked them and Mrs. Murphy, feeling tears sting my eyes at their kindness. They had so little and worked so hard, yet gave so freely to help another. I couldn’t recall many of the ladies in Oxford’s social strata who would be that kind under these conditions.
Everyone in some manner or another seemed to be silently protesting Mrs. Frye’s judgment against Bridget, but nobody voiced their opposition, and I didn’t either, I realized with surprise. My desire to stay employed in the Killdarens’ castle outweighed any principle of right I’d be willing to stand upon. At least when it came to the matter of punishing Bridget by taking away a meal. Something more severe I was sure I would have stood up for what was right no matter what.
I’d learned something, though. Had someone written to “Cassiopeia’s Corner” about this very situation, I would have advised her to stand on principle. Yet, now that I was in the situation, I had chosen differently. The more I lived of life away from the isolated world of my home and family, the more difficult the answers to even the simplest questions became.
Bridget nearly cried when I handed her the bread and cheese. I wanted to hug her, yet I didn’t, sensing she would reject any overtures of comfort on my part. She ate quickly and then we settled on her cot, huddling by the light of a small candle to read the vampire book. We went through the alphabet and the sounds each letter made, many of which Bridget already knew, then we read only five sentences of the vampire book before her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.
I couldn’t blame her. The day had been exhausting and the vampire book had offered very little excitement, just a description of an old stone church and a lonely woman entering it to pray. I’d expected that a book about powerful vampires and their lovers would have started out differently and I set it aside disappointed. After tucking Bridget beneath her blanket, I spent the next hour bathing, with only the basin of cold water available to ease my skin irritations and curtail the growing sense of dirt clinging to my body. I
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