I left Lady Jocelyn's quarters and made my way down the back staircase and hurried through the kitchen. Katey, the head cook, seemed surprised to see me on this lovely May morning. Though why mattered not a whit to me.

Molly, the scullery maid, looked up from steaming, sudsy water. She wiped a soapy hand across her forehead to push the wisps of hair aside. She stared, jaw slack.

"Good morning, Miss Katey. And to you too, Mollie. Lovely day I'm thinkin'," I said as I whisked past them and headed through the pantry to the steps leading belowstairs.

"Yes, mum. 'Tis surely that," Katey mumbled.

Not overly interested in a response, I went on. In my room, I put the prescription for my Lady in my reticule, plopped my bonnet on my head, and drew my cape over my shoulders, pulling it tightly around me, then turned to leave.

"Oh my," I said aloud. I'd forgotten to change shoes. On my knees now, I reached back under the bed and caught up both in one hand.

Tearing off my slippers, I hurriedly pushed my feet, first one then the other, into the soft leather boots. The tiny heels made me wobble some as I turned to sit on the bed to button them up.

My ankles must have been a bit puffers because I had to leave the top three buttons open. When I stood up, I was curiously breathless.

I was wearing my periwinkle blue overdress with the ruffled straps across the shoulders -- Archie's favorite -- and was confident of my appearance. Earlier in the morning I'd pulled my long, curly hair back with a metal hair clasp and pinched my usually pale cheeks hoping to catch Archie still at breakfast before I had to report to Nursey in Lady Jocelyn's chambers.

Archie had just been promoted to Assistant Groundskeeper, reporting to Giles, the old groundskeeper of the Harrington family. When Archie had been told of his raise in stipend -- a few more farthings a month -- he had asked me to marry him.

And, that I did, make no mistake about it!

As I ascended the steps to the pantry, I saw that Katey was waiting for me at the landing. Her expansive figure almost totally blocked my way. Little gray eyes squinting under a low forehead studied me closely. I had to push her aside to enter the kitchen.

Mollie was nowhere in sight -- off scrubbing or scouring I'm sure -- and I knew how hard Mollie would toil while praying for a promotion. There was hope, though, to be sure, because I was once scullery myself until Lady Jocelyn had need of a lady's maid. The dear old thing had asked for me personally. The upstairs maid, who rightfully would have been considered first, was grievously ugly and very lumpish in form and figure.

I knew the staff was in a snit because of my good fortune squeezing out the other girl, but I didn't allow it to bother me. I worked hard and secretly felt Her Ladyship favored me because I was comely. My Archie agreed. So there you have it.

Now I was hastening to get my gracious employer's chemist supplies.

My mind lingered on the old woman. Of late, she had taken to following me with her rheumy eyes. Whether I was cleaning her chamber pot or stripping her bed, she studied my face, my movements, my walk. Very unsettling it was. Yesterday, when I pulled her thin, silver hair up and twisted it into a loose knot atop her head, she ran her hands over my bare arms.

Then, when I bent to her and tried to button her nightdress, she touched my face and smiled. I'm ashamed to say it, but, her smile, with only two teeth up top, is a bit grotesque. And her breath! I pray she did not discern my shiver of disgust.

Finally buttoned up, she said, "Stand up tall, dear."

I did.

"Turn around."

I did that, too.

"Now, come sit at my side and read to me. I love the timbre of your intonation," she said. Her voice - shaky and weak -- was sometimes very hard to hear. So I'd have to lower my ear to her mouth.






Even though I was on manor business, I still could not leave out the front doors. That was a very strict rule. If we valued our positions at the Manorhouse, we had better hold fast to all imposed stringents.

Katey stared after me. "How's the dyspepsia today, Your Ladyship?" she called after me. "You won't be needin' that long wrap, mum. Let me run and get you one of your shawls!"

Ever since my marriage to Archie three months ago, Katey and the others felt themselves very clever to call me "Ladyship." I didn't like it, but I knew it would stop as soon as they found another head to bother.

"Couldn't be better," I called over my shoulder. How could Katey know I was six days late for my flag. I hadn't even told Archie yet. "And I