Winterberry Fire: A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella (Winterberry Park Book 2)
Merry Farmer
Chapter 1
Winterberry Park, Wiltshire – February, 1880
Ada Bell stood at attention in line with the rest of the maids and footmen of Winterberry Park, trying not to shiver in the icy February breeze. She still didn’t quite understand why every servant in the house needed to stand out on display when the master of the house, Mr. Alexander Croydon, and his wife and son departed for London. But she liked the Croydons. She enjoyed seeing them happy after such a difficult autumn, and if her job required her to wave goodbye to them from the front steps of the grand house, then so be it.
Mr. Croydon helped his wife into the carriage that would take them down to Lanhill’s train station, then handed his son, James, in after her. Ada’s heart squeezed with joy at the boy’s smiling face. Master James was a treasure. So was his nursemaid, her friend Ruby. As Mr. Croydon waved to the staff and climbed into the main carriage, Ada’s gaze shifted to the smaller carriage carrying the family’s luggage. Ruby and her new fiancé, Gilbert Phillips, Mr. Croydon’s man of business, looked so happy together. They’d been through the wringer, but Ada was confident that the two of them had nothing but happiness on the horizon. Especially if Ruby was able to stay in London as much as possible and far, far away from the troubles she’d encountered at Winterberry Park.
Ada shot a sideways look at her fellow upstairs maids, the sisters Mary and Martha Mull. The two of them were as spiteful, malicious, and meddlesome as anyone could be. They wore looks of complete innocence as they waved to the Croydons, but as soon as their employers weren’t looking, their expressions turned sour. Mary narrowed her eyes at Ruby and muttered, “Good riddance.”
Ada wanted nothing more than to tell Mary off for being a miserable old cow, but Mrs. Musgrave, the housekeeper, cleared her throat loudly. It was as good as a scolding, and a warning for them to keep quiet.
Before climbing into the smaller carriage, Ruby sent a wide smile and a subtle wave Ada’s way. Risking Mrs. Musgrave’s wrath, Ada waved back quickly. It truly did make her heart light to see her friend happy at last. Mr. Phillips helped her into the carriage, then climbed in after her. Ada sighed. He was so handsome, in spite of being ginger, and Ruby was truly the luckiest woman alive. She was glad that all the servants were allowed to wave as the two carriages pulled away from the house and started down the lane to the road. They were supposed to be waving at Mr. and Mrs. Croydon, but she was waving at her friends. Ruby even peeked out the window to smile at her one more time.
“Ugh. What a rotten kettle of fish that is,” Martha sniffed, lowering her hand once the carriages were gone and the servants began to disperse.
“That little whore gets away with everything,” Mary agreed.
Ada’s temper instantly soared. “How dare you criticize Ruby when you know you’re no better yourself?”
“I never sold myself to anyone,” Mary said, tilting her nose in the air and crossing her arms.
“No,” Ada agreed, crossing her arms as well. “You give it away to Wat Harmon.”
“Shut your gob!” Mary shouted, falling back into the lower class accent she’d been raised with. Her cheeks blazed red, though, hinting that Ada spoke the truth. She recovered fast enough to jerk her chin up and say, “Well, at least I have a bloke interested in me.”
“Unlike some people,” Martha continued where Mary left off. “Some people can only go sniffing around uptight schoolteachers who wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if he had one splayed in his lap.”
Ada gasped, fury and embarrassment heating her. “Mr. Turnbridge is a very nice man who has been kind enough to give me lessons after work,” she snapped.
“I bet he gives you lessons,” Martha drawled.
“He’s taught me to read and write and do my figures,” Ada said, standing taller.
“Figures, you say?” Mary exchanged a look with Martha. “I bet I know whose figure he’s studying.”
“That man?” Martha snorted and shook her head. “He’s a moony-eyed fool who doesn’t know what a cock is for.”
Martha and Mary laughed, but Ada shook with rage. “Mr. Turnbridge is a gentleman.”
“Sure he is, love,” Martha laughed. “A gentleman’s gentleman.”
“He is not,” Ada insisted.
“And how would you know?” Mary sneered.
“Girls!” The conversation was cut short as Mrs. Musgrave marched back out of the house, where the rest of the staff had retreated, and stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips. She glared at the three maids and shook her head. “Just because the Croydons have left for London for the season does not mean you are on holiday. We have a mountain of work to do. Every room in the house needs a thorough cleaning, from top to bottom. Starting now.”
“Yes, Mrs. Musgrave,” Ada murmured, along with Mary and Martha. Regardless of how they felt about each other, if they didn’t get their work done, they’d all have hell to pay.
Ada picked up her skirts and scurried into the house under Mrs. Musgrave’s furious frown. The housekeeper was right about the work they had to do. Having the Croydons in residence meant they were at their employers’ beck and call day and night, even though they hadn’t done much entertaining, thanks to the difficulties they’d gone through. But now that they were gone, the entire house really would be scrubbed from top to bottom. Linens would be changed in every bedroom, even the ones that hadn’t been used. Carpets would be taken outside and beaten. Floors and walls would be scrubbed to remove the soot of the fireplaces that had been burning all winter and the lanterns that illuminated the house at night. Fireplaces would be scrubbed and the fireirons polished to a shine. Every inch of brass and silver would be polished, wax would be scoured off of floors and furniture in rooms that were lit by candles instead of gas, and every inch of wood in the house would be oiled and polished.