An Ivy Hill Christmas by Julie Klassen

Author:Julie Klassen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;Christian fiction;Love stories;FIC042110;FIC027290;FIC027070
ISBN: 9781493425136
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

Nine

When Richard went downstairs the next morning, he nearly collided with Susanna in the passage.

“Ah, Susanna. Um . . . welcome.” If he felt awkward, how must she be feeling?

She wore a long bibbed apron over a plain grey frock. A white mobcap covered most of her dark hair.

“Mr. Brockwell.” She bobbed a slight curtsy, avoiding his eyes and passing by—the actions of servant.

It stung him.

“Susanna . . .” he called after her, his tone carrying his hurt.

She paused, her back to him. He saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, then she turned and resolutely strode back to him.

Facing him squarely, she said, “I am here as a servant, not as a friend. At least I hope so, for if I am only here because of our past . . . friendship, then I shall give notice directly.”

He winced. “There’s no need for that. Lady Brockwell sincerely wished to engage a nurserymaid. Upon my honor. Such as it is.”

“Precisely.” Her eyes glimmered with sadness, then she released a heavy sigh. “You must treat me as any other servant in your family’s employ. Do you understand? This is only my first day, so I will speak plainly, and then we need not speak again.”

“That seems harsh.”

“Do you speak to the other servants? To Nurse Pocket?”

He shuddered. “Never, if I can help it.”

“There, you see?”

“That’s only because she was my own nurse and frightened me to death as a child. Still does. But I speak to Andrew and Carville and Mrs. Dean and the rest. And Pickering and I talk all the time. Him mostly complaining, but still . . .”

“But I doubt you chat up the housemaids. At least I hope you don’t.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know you are angry with me, Susanna, and I don’t blame you. Can we not at least treat one another civilly when you’re here?”

She hesitated. “Civilly, but no more.”

Again her words, her distrust, stung him.

At the sound of a door closing down the passage, Susanna took a long step back. She bobbed another curtsy, her expression falling back into servile blandness.

“Very good, Mr. Brockwell. Will that be all?”

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Rachel or perhaps Mrs. Dean. Instead, Arabella stood there, looking from him to Susanna and back again, her face darkened by shadows . . . and suspicion.

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