Romance was in the air that spring and as flowers blossomed around us, there was a harmonious feeling surrounding the manor as though our garden was also finally blooming for the first time in ages. Rehearsals for the play had commenced weeks earlier and after the initial feeling of wanting to rip my eyes from their sockets, the play was coming together nicely...well...it was coming together anyway. It wasn't to the quality of a Noel Coward but it was good enough for the local community and I was surprised I was pleasantly calm about the whole matter.
Eleanor was flourishing in the role of the now-named maid, Dotty, and as life imitated art, a young man in the village had caught her eye, prompting us nosy four at the manor to step in and set the wheels in motion for a romance off-stage as well as on. The young man was a charming fellow named Christopher Marks, probably but twenty-one-years of age and with a smile that could rival George's. His dimples were the talk of the town and nearly every young lady's head had been turned by this handsome youth. But what sealed the deal was that to add to his exterior gifts he was also incredibly nice, modest and hard-working. She was smitten and though she was as pretty and delicate as a daisy, he had his pick of many girls. We were determined to make sure that our Eleanor was his choice. It's not that we were interfering per se, more that something had come to my attention during rehearsals. I had caught Eleanor alone upon the stage, staring ahead.
"Is there something wrong?" I had asked, hoping she wasn't losing interest in her leading role.
"Oh, no, sorry, Sir. I was in a right trance. The play's got me thinking."
I laughed. "Good job we don't really have a footman for you to liaise with eh?"
She smiled politely but there was a sudden hint of sadness in her eyes.
I gently touched her shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, I just got thinking 'bout things that are never gonna happen. Your words are so beautiful, Sir. No man will ever say those kinds of words to me."
A tear fell down her cheek and I was uncomfortable around crying women so I once again gently tapped her shoulder. She was looking up at me with large watery eyes, like a little deer and my heart was lost to her. I wanted to protect this innocent creature. As I comforted her with my hand rubbing her shoulder gently, I caught a glimpse of her father standing by the door, waiting for her.
Eleanor quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and then hopped off the stage to greet him. I watched as they linked arms. Her tears had her in my thoughts all that night.
...
In the garden the next morning I told Sophia of Eleanor's worries to which she immediately informed me that she was a marvellous matchmaker and could have Eleanor and Christopher paired up in no time at all. I was dubious so asked her of her credentials and experience (after all matchmaking was a tricky business) to which she assured me she had set-up three of her siblings with their respective partners. It was rather impressive if one ignored the fact that her brother and his wife were always throwing priceless vases at one another.
"This is so exciting!" Sophia cooed, clasping her hands together.
What had I unleashed?
George and Meg arrived behind us on the lawn.
"What's exciting?" Meg asked, taking her arm from George and linking it through Sophia's.
"Sophia has it in her mind that her matchmaking genius can bring Eleanor and young Christopher together."
"Who's young Christopher?" George asked.
"A boy from the village shop. He's perfect for her and I have quite the flair for matchmaking," she said.
"She thinks she's cupid now," I said.
Sophia held her arms out as if she were holding a bow and arrow. "Too right. I aim, I shoot, and I never miss."
...
"I cannot hear you!" Meg shouted at the actors from the back of the church hall as we rehearsed one day closer to opening night. Every time I looked at my cousin, she was scowling or hissing.
I could see some eye-rolling from the cast as they were interrupted again mid-performance by Meg who had turned into the director from hell. She was wonderful at the creative side of it but her people-skills needed fine tuning. Every time she upset one of the actors, I was forced to apologise most swiftly before we had a bigger strike than the general one.
"Diction! Diction!" she hollered.
"Meg, is it possible you could critique in a more...quiet manner?" I asked, avoiding eye-contact with her and instead glancing like a coward over my script.
"There's nothing wrong with tough love, Toby. I'm not here to be liked."
"Well that's good because nobody does."
"Fine!" She looked at the cast. "Let's all take a five-minute break to have a think about where we are!"
"Meg, you can be tough without being rude. It is possible."
She sighed, sat down and lit a cigarette.
"You're smoking!"
"Do you blame me with this lot? Eleanor's not bad but her voice level is like a mouse and the others well..."
"They're amateurs, Meg, may I remind you of that?"
"Alright, Toby darling, I'll go easy if I can."
I smiled then as my Georgie came into view. I wasn't certain where he disappeared to but he was never one for socialising with large groups so I knew that whenever he had vanished, he had found some quiet little nook to escape to. He was red-faced when he greeted me. "Good lord. I was standing outside for some fresh air when a stampede of your cast nearly knocked me flying."
"Meg called a break. They took their chance."
"Indeed. That Lady 'Kleptomaniac' Hendon has the face of someone sucking a sour lemon."
"She's peeved that she's playing the role of resident old lady and not the young lead. She should be grateful she isn't a tree."
"I bet she's even more peeved that she has to work with so many peasants. Have you seen the state of some of our male cast?"
"George, don't be rude. They don't exactly have our privileges."
"I wasn't being rude, far from it. Think it's rather attractive. Maybe you should rough yourself up a bit from time to time, Toby. Skip a bath or two for extra authenticity."
When the cast re-entered, Sophia was with them, leading the way, all clean, fresh and beautiful like the spring morning it was. She honestly looked like an angel as she walked the aisle toward us and in her cream and white dress, it was as though she were about to get married. All of the actors were watching her too— I'd never really thought deeply about that. My wife was a considerably beautiful woman and men noticed her. If I was her husband than should I have acknowledged that I noticed? Should I have pretended I was jealous of this attention? Had I made it obvious that my affections were merely platonic? Surely, I shouldn't play the role of one of those insufferable jealous husbands?
Why was I becoming side-tracked when the play was the focus?
We resumed the rehearsals and the four of us sat and watched as our performers carried on with the run through. I must say it was a rare sight, the four occupants of the manor presiding over things like members of a court. Meg clearly in the role of the prosecutor and me as defence.
"It's rather good isn't it?" Sophia said. She'd been in a cheery mood since she'd decided to play matchmaker. "I have some ideas about our Eleanor situation."
"Well at the moment Eleanor is a little preoccupied and she still has her chores to do," I reminded her. "Besides it's not her we need to convince. Half the village is in love with young Christopher. How can we be sure he'll fall for our leading lady?"
"You leave that to me," Sophia replied.
We were interrupted by a cough from our leading man Henry. "Sorry to intrude but can I say, I can't quite get the hang of this bloke, Mr. Wells? He's the daftest old footman I've ever heard of. I mean, he's a right old sappy sod, ain't he?"
I walked toward the stage. "Sappy...sod...he may be, Henry, but he's ardently in love with Eleanor...I mean Dotty."
"He's ardent-what?"
"Never mind. Imagine the prettiest and most wonderful girl. You can't eat or sleep for thought of her. Your stomach is in knots for her love."
"Right, got ya. Like you and Mrs. Wells was it?"
"Something like that."
I mean, I certainly had knots in my stomach when I married Sophia, if not for quite the same reason, but all I could think of at that moment— speaking of love as we were in that romantic spring— was my Georgie. Our first meeting had been an encounter I could never forget. And as people spoke around me, I could feel my mind drifting back...
...
It was a scorching hot day in 1917 when I first saw George in the small bunker in the trenches. After an injury which had sent me to the base hospital for a few weeks respite, I was well again and to report to a Captain Wynter and resume my duties as Sergeant. Soldiers had described George to me as a rather foppish sort, a somewhat vacant chap who would quite frankly rather be on his own then socialising with the other men. My mind began picturing him as a wimpish sort with a pencil-thin moustache and a plummy voice that set one's teeth on edge. When I saw him however, looking smart in his uniform, with rosy cheeks and large lips, I was happy there was one good thing to come out of such a horrible and pointless war.
"Captain Wynter?" I said to him as I approached, saluting him and standing to attention.
He was smoking a cigarette and glanced at me. I caught his eyes scanning over my body. I wasn't sure if it was to inspect my uniform or something else entirely.
"At ease, Sergeant...?" he said.
"...Wells."
"Wells." He smiled. It was a wonderful smile and I watched entranced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver case, took a cigarette from inside and tapped it against the box.
"Cigarette?"
I accepted. I wasn't really a smoker but since the war I'd found it rather soothing. "Thank you."
As I attempted to take it, our hands grazed one another's.
The surprise touch startled me and I blurted out: "Lovely day isn't it?" I instantly felt my cheeks redden. It was a warm day, certainly, but lovely? It could never be lovely where we were and saying so made me feel crude and careless. However, George was looking at me, his lips curled into a smirk and somehow that tough day in the war from hell proved less harsh by the look of his soft boyish features. I took a drag from the cigarette and something slipped from my pocket— a photograph.
He leaned down, scooped it up and glanced over it. "Your girl?
"Yes, well she is a girl," I chuckled. "My first cousin."
"I see. How very old fashioned!"
"No, she's not my wife, she's simply a cousin. Can I start again?"
He handed me the photograph.
"I mean this is Meg. She's like a sister. Lived with me all my life."
"No sweetheart at home waiting for you then?" He looked at me as though he knew.
"No, I don't have any of those... a girl I mean. I don't...well, I'm not really wanting one of those here at the moment."
"I should hope not. The trenches are no place for a lady."
"You should meet my cousin then! One hour in the war and we'd have already beaten the Germans." I laughed.
It was relaxed like that for ten minutes as we laughed and joked and shared a cup of tea. He even gave me half of his chocolate bar. And then it was time to get back to it all. Back to the war. Back to the blood. And the mud. And the death. But for those fifteen minutes, in our own little world, I'd felt the happiest I'd felt in years.
...
"Toby? Tobias!!"
Meg was prodding me and as my mind focused on reality, I realised I had been daydreaming and was still standing in the church hall, not in the bunker of the muddy trench.
"Sorry, I was elsewhere. Let's have another look at the scene, Henry. From the top."
And I'm pleased to report that Henry took my advice and the successful rehearsal drew to a close. Eleanor walked back to resume her duties at the manor whilst Sophia and Meg made it their mission to pay a visit to young Christopher and convince him of his affections for Eleanor.
I however was not convinced Sophia was as great a matchmaker as she boasted so I admit that George and I followed her and Meg to the village store with hope that we could capture a glimpse of the ladies in action. Standing in long coats behind a display of stationary, we blended perfectly into our surroundings, looking more like regular village men than squires. We listened carefully as our wives cornered young Christopher who was stood upon a ladder by the tinned vegetables.
"What can I do for you, ladies?" he said, descending the ladder. "Don't normally see you in here. How's the rehearsal going?"
"Not too badly, but a long way to go until performance standard," Meg said.
Sophia nudged her. "Meg is being too harsh. The play is coming along splendidly, mostly thanks to out superb leading lady Eleanor."
Meg eyed up the tins. "We'd like some vegetables for our cook please."
"What's she doing waffling about tinned vegetables?" George whispered.
I placed my finger on his lips. "Ssh."
I wondered that myself, but knowing Meg, and as shrewd as she was, I was convinced she was trying to add credence to the story of their visit to the store.
Sophia leaned against the ladder casually. "Do you know her? Eleanor that is, not our cook. She's the pretty one with the lovely gentle voice? Eleanor that is again, not our cook."
"Eleanor Tapsell? Sure, I've spoken to her a few times casually-like."
It was unclear by Christopher's reaction whether he had any feelings for her at all which confused me immensely as the working-classes were usually known for expressing themselves far more openly than my people. Instead of any further reaction he began to climb the ladder.
"We were wondering if you were coming to see the play?" Sophia asked, grasping his sleeve and practically pulling him away from his task.
He steadied himself on the bottom rung. "Could do if you like, Mrs. Wells. Me mother's a lover of the theatre. She don't get to go often. What's the play about?"
"Young love. Don't you simply adore a love story?" Sophia by now was dangerously close to what I would call flirting.
"Love? Sure, but I prefer a bit of murder."
I wasn't sure that was the response we wished for, after all Eleanor was our responsibility and I wasn't intending to pair her with a man who enjoyed murderous activities. We'd already had a killer in the attic!
"Yeah alright then ladies, I'll come along. Eleanor sounds a real draw eh?"
"She's the best part," Meg chipped in. "Do you like her?"
"Again, only spoken to her the odd time. We've not really been formally introduced."
Sophia clasped her hands together. "I shall arrange a meeting. We'll be in touch. Lovely to meet you properly, Mr. Marks."
Young Christopher nodded but from his reaction it was obvious he was baffled by their behaviour. George didn't help matters when he knocked into the stand and sent a dozen onions rolling onto the floor.
"Oh really!" Sophia said, shaking her head. "Meg, our husbands felt the need to spy on us!"
We apologised on the way back to the manor and to be quite honest they were still frosty with us the next day when we met for tea in the living room mid-morning. We'd only recently sat down to take it when Fettis entered announcing that Christopher was at the door carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Sophia jumped up from her seat nearly sending hot tea over George.
"This is it! Cupid's bow has hit its target! Where's Eleanor? Fettis would you send for her? I'll see to Mr. Marks," she said.
We followed behind the practically skipping Sophia and hid behind the plinth as she greeted the young man in the hall. His delightful smile erupted as soon as he saw her. What on earth was happening here?
"Mrs. Wells, you look terrific."
George, Meg and I exchanged glances but Sophia hadn't listened to the compliment and was instead gazing at the flowers.
"What wonderful flowers," she said and before she knew it, Christopher was handing them to her so that the bloom itself covered the entirety of her small delicate face. Only her pinned up hair-do could be seen behind the petals.
"Glad you like 'em, Mrs. Wells, a beautiful lady should have beautiful presents."
"They're for me?" Sophia said dropping the bouquet and spinning back to face me. She frowned. "Don't you mean for Eleanor?" She hastily picked them up.
"Why would they be for Eleanor?"
It was at that moment that the aforementioned Eleanor arrived in the hallway and immediately began to sob. She ran from the room in humiliation.
"Is she alright?" Christopher asked.
I stepped forward. "Yes, fine, a headache. Look, Christopher, I think it would be best if you went home now."
I motioned for George and Meg to escort him outside and I listened and peered through a gap in the door as they spoke with him on the doorstep. Christopher was running his hand through his hair with shaky hands.
"I hardly think it's appropriate for you to bring flowers to a married woman," Meg said to him.
He bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what came over me. Mrs. Wells was being so friendly-like, I thought she cared for me or something. I'm not good with romance lark, that's why I said I prefer murder."
"Mrs. Wells was being nice, Christopher," George began, "If a lady is nice to you it does not mean she wants something."
I was impressed. Since when did George know anything about women?
Christopher shook his head. "No, no, I didn't think of nothing degrading-like. I know she's a lady and I'm nothing but when I heard this rumour that not all was well with the Wells'... well, you know..."
"What's this about a rumour?" Meg asked.
"Everyone's gossiping in the village that there's friction between the two of 'em. I heard not all was rosy in their garden. But pardon my impertinence, I didn't mean to cause trouble. And I didn't mean to upset Eleanor, is she alright?"
"Honestly lad, you're clueless," George said, "Eleanor likes you, Sophia most certainly does not."
"Blimey, I got the wrong end of the stick, didn't I?"
"Yes, you jolly well did, young Christopher."
"Make my apologies. It's just them's big rumours, Mr. Wynter. And it's a surprise to hear about Miss Eleanor, I mean, from what I heard, it's the master Mr. Wells what's after her. Her father saw them all affectionate. Told the locals at the pub he saw him touch her shoulder all gentle-like."
Meg and George exchanged glances whilst I felt my heartbeat quicken in my chest. I was stunned. How had this happened?
"Leave this to us," Meg said as she turned Christopher away from the manor. "Rumours are rumours and, in this case, utter nonsense. Nothing is amiss in the marriage of my cousin and Mrs. Wells."
When they came back in, I was already pacing back and forth beside the Grandfather clock, agitated and panic-stricken.
"Everyone thinks I'm after my own maid!" I cried just as Fettis, Sophia and Eleanor appeared beside me.
I could barely look Eleanor in the eye. What must she have thought of me? She was so naïve. She had no idea who I really was, how I really felt about George. My behaviour toward her was like that of a guardian. How had I let others perceive it differently?
"I've your coat, Sir," Fettis said. "I suggest a nice trip to the village. Mr. Tapsell would like to see you."
I didn't stop to question. I didn't take anyone aside. I grabbed my coat and headed to my car.
...
When I returned home after the visit to Eleanor's father, my household was to see me at my most pitiful.
"Toby, someone's punched you in the eye!" Meg shouted as soon as she saw me. She seemed excited but still I suppose the emphasis was accurate.
Fettis excused himself to fetch something cold whilst my loved ones fussed around me, stroking my hair and sitting me down.
"Did Eleanor's father do this to you?" Meg asked.
"I tried to explain to him but he gave me no warning. As soon as I uttered one word, his fist was flying in my direction. He wouldn't let me explain that he's got the wrong end of the stick. I felt like telling him right there and then that not only am I not interested in his daughter but I'm also not interested in the female of the species."
"You should've!" George said, smirking.
"I came to my senses before I did that, thank goodness!"
It was at that moment that Eleanor ran into the room. "Oh, Sir, I'm so sorry. May I be excused at once to go and see my father? I'll explain everything to him, I promise. And I'll give him a telling off for hurting you, Sir."
"I hope you can make him see sense, Eleanor. He wouldn't listen to me."
"I'll sort it out, don't you worry. He's not been right since mother died. And you've been so kind to me, Sir, I'll not let him ruin your reputation."
"He thinks I ruined yours!"
She curtsied and then I nodded to let her leave. She blushed and then hurried downstairs to the servant's hall.
"Your steak, Sir," said Fettis, arriving seemingly from nowhere.
"Steak? I'm afraid I couldn't possibly eat at a time like this, Fettis."
"It's for your eye, Sir," he said, shoving the cold meat onto my eye.
...
The one upside to being set-upon by a ruffian was the inevitable sympathy and love my dearest ones placed upon me and the for the remainder of that day I could sit on the settee next to George, do nothing, say whatever I wanted and everybody was quite content to let me be idle and wallow in self-pity. I sat in silence for a good while, contemplating on the mistakes I'd made.
To take my mind off of things, Sophia and Meg discussed their first meeting. They'd told me scraps of information before but I'd never heard it in detail, and as they spoke of it, I was strangely eager to listen. The setting of their meeting was vastly different from mine and George's and where we had met in a muddy trench, dirty and tired from fighting, the ladies met at a grand charity ball, in aid of raising money for the soldiers.
"I saw Sophia from across a crowded room," said Meg. "I knew instantly that she was the right one for me."
...
I pictured the scene as they told me. Beautiful dresses, grand ballroom, shimmering chandeliers. A world away from the battlefield.
"I think I'd be doing a better job if I was out there helping the soldiers," Meg had said to Sophia as she sat beside her at one of the tables.
"You mean as a nurse?" Sophia had replied.
"Oh no, can't bear the sickness. No, I mean, I'd have made a good soldier I think. My cousins are out there of course, but neither of them are really made for that kind of thing. Not that I want to hurt people or take the glory, more do my duty. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. My name's Meg." She held out her hand and Sophia took it lightly.
"I'm Sophia. Do you live in London?"
"I'd love to but I'm holding fort at Elmwood Manor for my two cousins."
"Elmwood Manor is your home?" Sophia had asked.
"You know it?"
"I've never been there but oh this is strange. I danced with your cousin Charles at my coming out ball. He was extremely charming."
Meg frowned. "Why has Charlie always met every beautiful woman before I have?"
Sophia blushed. "Well, it's lovely meeting you too, Meg. It's been so long since I've had the company of a woman under the age of fifty. I've been staying with a multitude of aunts, and all my sisters and nieces are too far from me."
By the time the story of their meeting was finished I was asleep.
...
Opening night of our play was the night I'd been dreading for weeks and after a rather disastrous dress rehearsal I had butterflies in my stomach. The actors were voicing my words and if no-one liked them, I'd probably spend the rest of my life being known as the useless wordsmith who wrote a hideous play for the church.
It was only a few minutes until the curtain went up so Meg and I joined the actors in the dressing room to wish them well.
"We know you'll do us proud," I told them.
"And remember to speak up, Eleanor. Clear diction," Meg said.
"Most importantly, have fun," I said.
We left the dressing room and I peered around the curtain. It was a full house. My palms were sweating as I stood in the wings, watching as actors and crew scurried past me adjusting costume and lights.I could see the household staff sitting at the back and could see my George and Sophia sitting eagerly in the front row. I took a deep breath and watched as Albert Crump introduced the play. This was it. All the hard work culminated in this performance.
And like a snap of the fingers it was over so quickly. All that worrying and stress and it passed by with only minor hiccups such as line flubs and wobbly scenery but all in all I was proud of my cast and crew and was pleased with the reception from the village. As the audience cheered, I felt satisfied I'd done a good job. I was promptly called onto the stage but owing to my black eye, I declined. Enough people had seen me with it. I didn't want to fuel anymore vicious rumours about my conduct.
...
By the time we arrived home it was so deathly quiet it was as though we had walked across a moonlit graveyard and I confess I felt a sense of sadness sweep over me. The play had been so stressful, so time consuming and much had transpired (including my black eye) but somehow it had all been worth it for that sense of accomplishment, the applause, and for seeing something we worked so hard for completed— eventually bringing joy to others. I accepted it wasn't perfect but perfect wasn't everything.
We sat cosily on the chairs and talked about the events. It was always our favourite thing to do after a day that had been strange. Even though the play was finished and we could laugh about it and dissect it, there was still some matters left unresolved. True, some matters had been somewhat amended, for example Eleanor's father had seen sense and written an apology to me but the matter of her infatuation with Christopher was still uncertain and Meg suggested that we stay out of it, after all meddling caused the rumours. However I was saddened if our Eleanor was unhappy and so when the doorbell rung and Fettis introduced young Christopher, I was pleased to see him.
"I've not brought you more flowers," he said, holding exactly that. "I mean, I have bought more flowers but they aint for any of you. Sorry, not being rude, just, I saw the play and it was really something. Well Eleanor was really something. These are for her." He looked at me and grinned sheepishly. "I am sorry about your shiner, Mr. Wells."
"Thank you. Fettis would you fetch Eleanor and tell her Christopher is here."
Whilst Fettis proceeded with his duty, I caught a glimpse of Sophia and she looked clean fit to burst with excitement. She had her hands together, her face red and her cheeks almost about to pop from holding her breath. She grabbed Meg's hands and they held onto one another as they waited for Eleanor to emerge.
As she came into view, we all looked at her— five pairs of eyes watching her like hawks examining their prey. When she saw Christopher, I caught a blush on her cheeks and she smiled. She was about to talk to him when she looked at us and coughed.
"We'll leave you to it," Sophia said giddily. "Come along all."
She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door.
Meg started to pull George from his armchair.
"Wouldn't it make more sense for them to leave?" he protested.
"Just come on."
...
As I read a book in bed that night with George snuggled up under the covers beside me, I pondered over the events of the previous days and thought about my behaviour and my decisions. I sighed, I mumbled, I turned pages in the book nosily as I attempted to concentrate on the story in my novel and not the story of my life. Grumbling, George sat up.
"Honestly it's like sharing a bed with a horse," he said.
I placed my book onto the bedside table and crossed my arms. "I beg your pardon?"
"Moving about like that. I was dreaming I was in the Grand National."
"I'm sorry, I'm just musing, that's all."
"When are you not?"
"Do you think we did the right thing, with Eleanor and Christopher, I mean?"
"They're happy, aren't they?"
"I suppose. But they're not our puppets and we rather treated them as such, didn't we? How would we have felt if our servants had tried to set us all up with people?"
"That's nonsense. We're all married and we prefer men."
"Exactly. Only we know our own true selves."
I told myself in that moment that I needed to be more careful in meddling with people's lives. I spent all my time complaining of people interfering in mine and yet I felt it was alright to do so to others. In fairness it was mostly Sophia's fault but one can never really feel comfortable placing all the blame on their wife.
There was then a knock on the door that connected the tunnel to our two rooms and after we'd called 'come in', Meg and Sophia entered, carrying a sleeping Bartholomew on a cushion.
"There he is," George said, smiling, as Sophia placed the cushion onto the end of the bed.
"We thought you might miss him. Are you alright, Toby, you look perplexed?" Sophia said. When she sat down, she accidentally flashed her legs and in embarrassment she immediately covered them.
"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about, my dear. I was thinking about Eleanor, that's all."
"Yes, it all worked marvellously," Sophia said.
Meg, who was seated at the dressing table, sighed. "You do realise that if she and Christopher carry on together, she'll eventually leave service to get married and have babies?"
My mouth gaped open. How could that not have occurred to me? I was going to lose my precious innocent Eleanor. Had I sealed the fate of our household? What if the next maid was an old dragon who would know our secret and tell the police? One could only hope Eleanor had no plans of matrimony for the foreseeable future. I confided in my fears to which the other three laughed and told me simply that I was always thinking the worst.
We stayed up talking to well into the small hours, in fact we didn't remember falling asleep but all I do recall is waking up with Bartholomew asleep on my head and the others in a row in the bed beside me. It was all rather innocent of course but I hastily woke them up anyway in case of prying eyes from servants.
Jumping from the bed, I glanced at the side table and noticed a tray. "Good grief, someone's already brought a breakfast tray up! That means one of the servants has been in here."
We scrambled from the bed and raced off in different directions in a panic and I have to say to this day we never spoke of it ever again.