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Estelle glanced down at herself a little awkwardly. She had never had a maid before and therefore had no idea what the etiquette was for dealing with one. Given that she didn’t belong in these environs, she wasn’t altogether sure it mattered.
“I am a little sore if I am honest,” she replied honestly.
The maid nodded. “It is to be expected given what happened to you.”
“What did happen to me?” Estelle asked curiously. She knew but she was also curious to know what the staff had been told.
“Why, the master ran you over with his carriage,” the maid murmured.
She suddenly fell silent and looked nervously at the door as though debating whether to run and fetch someone. Estelle got the distinct impression the maid knew she had just overstepped the mark by talking ill of the master so didn’t push for details. She knew already.
“Thank you,” Estelle whispered, although had no idea why she was whispering, or what she was thanking the maid - for running off, maybe? Aware that more questions might get the young girl into trouble, Estelle looked about the room and then down at the white nightgown she wore.
“Where are my clothes?” she asked.
“Oh, Mrs Cranbury, the housekeeper, has those. They got awfully dirty and a bit torn last night so she has given them a wash. They will be ready for you later today,” the maid gushed. She looked at the clock. “It’ll be time for breakfast soon, miss. Would you like a tray in here, or would you prefer to go down to the breakfast room?”
Before, Estelle could speak a huge gust of wind rattled the windows. She looked at the closed shutter, immensely grateful she wasn’t out in such awful weather.
“I hear the fog has go
ne,” she murmured wryly.
The maid smiled. “Yes, but this is the storm everyone has been talking about. It is upon us now I am afraid, so you won’t be going anywhere anytime yet, even if the master says it is alright for you to go.”
“Oh?” Estelle baulked at the thought of being held captive.
“It’s the moat, you see. It is flooded again. Why, the last time it flooded it took three days for the waters to go down enough for any of us to be able to cross it.”
“A moat, did you say?” Estelle watched the maid begin to fuss with the covers, straightening them and tucking them in. Unsure if it was a silent request for her to leave the bed so it could be made, she threw the covers back and stood up.
“Yes, ma’am. You crossed it when you came here last night. The only way over it is by the narrow bridge, but that is next to useless once the waters come up. It is no more than a few planks between the gardens and the house, really, but everyone calls it a bridge. The master says he will make a proper bridge at some point. You know, with a stone wall and everything, but he never does. I don’t suppose he will now. Maybe the master will do it.”
“Myles?” Estelle felt a nervous flurry in her stomach.
“Yes, the master, ma’am. You met him last night. We call him Master Myles. Don’t you remember?”
Estelle nodded and went in search of some clothing. A strange, restless feeling swept over her at the mention of Myles name. She wanted to see him; just to make sure it really had been him who had saved her last night. Confusingly, she also didn’t want to see him because she wasn’t sure what to say to him. She touched her tangled hair with tentative fingers, aware that she must look a fright.
“Don’t you worry about that, miss,” the maid gushed with a smile. “We can tidy your hair up in no time.”
Estelle opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a rather timid ‘thank you’. She wasn’t sure the maid had heard her given that she was already scurrying across the room and was yanking out drawers from the dresser in the far corner.
Estelle took stock of her injuries. Her feet and ankles ached like the dickens, but the rest of her didn’t seem too bad. Apart from the dull ache in her head, she was feeling considerably better than she had last night. Confident that she was on the mend, while she waited for the maid to find her some clothing, Estelle opened the shutters and looked out at the weather.
“Oh, my word,” she breathed when she studied the wildly swaying trees lining the perimeter of the huge landscape garden beneath the window, the view of which was marred by the relentless rain pelting ferociously against the window.
“It’s a rough storm,” the maid assured her.
Estelle stared in amazement as another howling gust of wind lashed another deluge at the window. It was so heavy she wondered for a moment if it was going to break the glass. With a shiver, she hurriedly closed the shutter again and made her way over to the fire.
“I should like to go down to breakfast, if that is alright?” Estelle began.
For some reason the sound of the howling winds made her feel vulnerable and afraid. The thought of eating a meal all by herself in this huge bed chamber made her homesick and in need of company. While she didn’t relish the possibility of joining the others, she couldn’t abide the thought of staying alone in the room either.
“I need some clothes to wear,” she added lamely when the maid continued to flutter about.
“Oh, that’s already been sorted for you, miss,” the maid gushed. She nodded to a chair beside an armoire. “It is one of Miss Beatrice’s old dresses, that is, miss. Cranbury got it out of the attics for you last night. It has been aired all night and is clean and everything. It should suffice until your own dress is ready. Although, I have to say that it looks like you are going to be stuck here for a few days, I am afraid, so it might be best if we get you a few more changes of clothes down. You know, just so you can change clothes for dinner and that kind of thing.”
