The Runaway Princess

Chapter 4

“Mr Clarke is unable to take these to the post office today,” she explained.

“Why not?” Elena asked.

Mrs Johnson arched an eyebrow. “That is not any of your business, Elena,” she said firmly. “The footmen and maids will be given any information if and when they need it.”

Elena pursed her lips. It would have to take something fairly significant for Mr Clarke to delegate his duties. Elena wondered what was happening. “But why me?” she pressed.

“Is it really too difficult a task to walk a mile into the village and then walk back?” Mrs Johnson huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Do as you are told.”

Elena wondered if Mrs Johnson was still angry about the flamenco dancing. Elena knew that Mrs Johnson liked control as much as Mr Clarke did. The housekeeper was pushed into taking on Marisol and Elena. Perhaps that was her grievance.

Elena and nodded and held the letters in her hands tightly. “Of course, Mrs Johnson. I will take these to the post office.”

Mrs Johnson then produced a list of ingredients written neatly in Mrs Weston’s hand. “I also require that you visit the butcher to place Ascot’s meat order. You shall tell Mr Crowley that we will require these deliveries in three weeks’ time.”

Elena quickly read the list and her eyes widened. Every meat imaginable was written there, and such large quantities too. Were they planning on feeding the entire country?

“Does not Mrs Weston usually order the meat?” Elena murmured as she came to the word ‘offal’. What was offal?

“This is a special order,” replied Mrs Johnson. “Mrs Weston cannot visit the butcher until next week and by then it will be too late. It is essential that this order is placed, do you understand, Elena?” she asked seriously.

Elena nodded. “Yes, Mrs Johnson.” Elena still was unsure why she was the one being trusted with the letters and the important order. Elena had been employed at Ascot for mere weeks. “Why me, Mrs Johnson?” she asked again, wanting an answer. She needed to know other people’s opinions and perceptions of her. It was essential that she remained as overlooked as possible.

“Because I do not think you are a fool, Elena,” replied Mrs Johnson. “You are unassuming, or at least you would like to be, but I believe you are capable. Do not disappoint me. Return by dinnertime.”

With that, Elena was left on her lonesome to walk into the village. Unassuming? What did that mean? Could Mrs Johnson see through her?

Elena fetched the overcoat that Sarah had given her to use. She covered her head with the hood and then proceeded to leave Ascot through the front gate.

It was the first time that she had properly been outside in weeks. “Derbyshire es increíble,” she said to herself as she looked up at the majestic rolling hills. She took a deep breath of the fresh, country air.

After walking for half an hour, Elena could not help but look at the letters in her hand. She knew they were none of her business but she was growing bored. The first letter was addressed to a woman named Jeana. The address was written in what appeared to be French. Several of the letters were travelling to the neighbouring estate of Montrose. The last letter, though, was being sent to London. It was addressed to Christian Sørensen. Elena furrowed her eyebrows. Why did that name seem familiar? Where had she heard that name before?

Elena wondered if it was a particularly English name. Perhaps she had read it somewhere while travelling through England.

She was relieved when she finally arrived in the village. The village was a quaint little community. There were several lanes filled with different shops and businesses providing all sorts of goods and services. On the outskirts of the village, Elena could see the beginnings of many farms. Sheep and cows were absently grazing in the field.