Christmas at Hartford Hall by Fenella J. Miller

Author:Fenella J. Miller [Miller, Fenella J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Elizabeth decided it would make more sense to just keep her bedchamber warm. With luck, there would be enough fuel for the fire in there to last until she left. After discarding her cap and apron she busied herself transferring the log baskets and coal scuttles. This task completed, she carried in the flowers and fruit basket. How fortunate she had filled herself up with scones and jam. She would not feel hungry again until tomorrow.

She dragged an armchair and table through and then removed the rag rug that covered the centre of the room. Keeping active gave her less time to think and to contemplate her miserable future. Two hours later, her bedchamber was transformed. All her books, writing materials and watercolour equipment were safely installed on shelves. The flowers were standing proudly on the small octagonal table by the window and the fruit stored in her dressing room, which was far cooler than her bedchamber.

She would keep herself occupied painting the view from 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.

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