The Maid's Secret Read Free

Hart had insisted: her daughter was marrying into a noble family and must therefore be nobly catered for.
    ‘I’ll still find time to bake Master Christopher a cake that I know he’ll enjoy, never mind this fancy French cooking,’ she’d declared, but as she was so busy Ellen asked if she could make it. To her astonishment Mrs Marshall agreed, so long as Ellen followed her instructions to the letter.
    The cake rose and rose and was so light and airy that Mrs Marshall couldn’t have been more pleased if she had made it herself. ‘Why, one day, Ellen, you might mek a cook yourself.’
    Ellen smiled, but had other thoughts. Being a cook in someone else’s household wasn’t something she aspired to.
    There was a soft knock on the kitchen door as the servants were sitting down for a cup of tea. They all stood up as a tall fair-haired youth of about fifteen came in and apologized for disturbing them, but Mrs Marshall said, ‘Come in, come in. Allus nice to see you, Master Christopher. Ellen, fetch that cake tin out of ’cupboard.’
    ‘Might I join you for a cup of tea?’ he asked. ‘My parents are greeting some guests who are staying for the wedding.’
    ‘What? Staying ’night do you mean, sir?’ At Christopher’s nod, Cook said, ‘Be quick and finish your tea, Flo, and scrub some more taties and carrots. We don’t want to run out. Why wasn’t I told?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ the boy admitted. ‘Plans have gone awry.’ He smiled at Ellen as she brought out the cake. ‘Hello.’
    ‘This is Ellen,’ Cook said. ‘She’s new since you were last at home.’
    She dipped her knee and he nodded; shyly, she thought, although he seemed to be at ease with Cook and Flo. It’s cos he’s used to them, I expect. She was pleased when he said the cake was delicious and Cook told him she’d made it. She saw Flo’s expression change to that of a sour prune; she’s jealous, Ellen thought, feeling triumphant.

Chapter Two
    The day of the wedding was cloudless and sunny and Ellen was pleased to be out of the heat of the kitchen serving glasses of champagne or trays of
hors d’oeuvres
to the guests who milled about on the lawn before going into the marquee for the wedding breakfast. It was thrilling to see the bride, her attendants and Mrs Hart in their beautiful gowns of silks and fine muslins in varying shades of ivory and cream, with nipped-in waists and puffed long sleeves narrowing at the wrist; the bride wore flowers in her hair and the young attendants wore undergowns of rose and pale blue, and as they flitted about on the lawn Ellen was put in mind of colourful butterflies and gave a small wishful sigh.
    Christopher Hart came across to her and took a glass of champagne from her tray. ‘I’m not really supposed to drink,’ he confessed. ‘So don’t tell on me, will you?’
    ‘Oh, no, of course I won’t, sir.’ She gave him a dimpled smile and thought how handsome he looked in his grey tailcoat and black trousers and carrying a top hat. ‘It’ll be our secret.’
    His eyebrows rose at that and she thought he seemed amused. He didn’t seem to be offended by her flippancy and she wondered if he was ever tired of being cautious or prudent when speaking to servants and being answered in a submissive manner. He was still only a boy, after all.
    He went back to school after the wedding and wouldn’t return home until the summer holidays, and for most of that time he was occupied with his parents. Mrs Marshall told her that after going to university he was destined to run the estate with his father.
    ‘Nice to have your future mapped out for you,’ Flo niggled. ‘No worries about finding a job.’
    ‘But what if he’d like to do something else?’ Ellen said. ‘Does he have a choice?’
    Mrs Marshall scratched her head. ‘No, I don’t suppose he does.’
    Much to Flo’s annoyance Mrs Whitton had been impressed by Ellen’s manner towards the wedding guests, and she was promoted to upstairs maid on