The Misplaced

C h a p t e r ° 5

"Ye took yer bloody time, lass,' she grumbled, eying her in a suspicious appraisal.

Emma puff out a breath and smiled, " had to enjoy the luxury whilst it lasted, ma'am," she said, settling the basket on the table and inhaling at the yeasty smell of bread baking in the Aga oven that pervaded the room.

Mrs. Grey whistled, " Me loss, quite t' a'vantage of bein' you'g."

" I suppose,' said Emma, propping a hand on her hip as she watched the lady chop-chop chopping doggedly on the bell peppers.

And when a bell jingled merrily overhead, Emma and Mrs. Grey shared a knowing look.

" I reckon that's for me.' Emma lamented, navigating her way to the kitchen door, ' don't forget to spare me one of those bread rolls,'

And Mrs. Greg rolled her eyes heavenward with a shake of her head.

Emma quickly scrambled off through the narrow dim passageway of the servants quarters and winded a spiral stairs up to the second floor of Mr. David's chamber, whom had issued the summon.

The parquet, long corridor that led to Mr. David's chamber was wide and brightened by the rays of sunlight that streamed in through the bunched up crimson drapes of the sparkling clean, arched windows, but however, it was eerily deserted.

A jolt of dread sizzled through Emma's veins as her feet treaded in the same pace as the long, red pendulum that ticked off the seconds, moving in it's staccato sweep across the bottom half of the grandfather's clock down the corridor.

She wracked her clenched knuckle against the rosewood door of Mr. David's chamber, and aggressively attacked at the bottom of her lips as she waited patiently for approval.

"Come in,' came a throaty voice that sent Emma's hands bunching into the fabric of her dress. She sighed heavily, and her breath blew out in foggy clouds.

Squaring her chest, she pushed open at the door and traipsed into the dim room. The chamber was fairly sheer in size, with a canopied bed that had a dark wood frame, contrasting nicely with the dark and grey motif of the room.

Sunlight threw bars of light and shadow across the dark green carpet up to the edge of the bed from the slightly drawn luxurious drapes. Emma found Mr. David basking by the smouldering fire in the marble fireplace, with a pitcher half-filled with amber liquid in one hand whilst taking quick pulls on his pipe.

Bile churned in Emma's stomach as she watched gray, fluffy plume of cigar smoke, jiggling towards the ceiling, and gathering above him.

Coughing and fanning at the bitter tobacco smell from her nostrils, Emma ventured warily further into the room.

Mr. David was a big man. A perfect picture of a gentleman, quite tall in height, wasn't necessarily termed beautiful nor ugly, and had a furious dissipation in the dark depth of his eyes.

He was lolled on a chintz patterned sofa, cladded in a cravat free white cotton button-up shirt with frilly sleeves, and a tawny-coloured pants.

He had been staring at the dancing orange and yellow flames in the grate, but when Emma made her presence known, he shrank back on the sofa and observed her greasily.

" Ah, Ms. Emma, I wasn't quite expecting your presence. I had thought it would've be Ms. Phoebe.' said Mr. David, with a gallant smile on his thick lips. Ms. Phoebe was also a maid in the household, a young lass of one and five, handsome in a rather leonine way, very polite and had a beautiful shade of bright blue eyes, and copper ringlets.