Petals in the Ashes Read Online Free PDF Page B

moments we just stood there staring about us, for it was such a contrast to the dark and dirty aspect of the pesthouse where, in spite of all our efforts, rats scuttled across the floor at night and lice and fleas bit us into wakefulness, that I felt I could scarce look at it enough.
    Grace, secure in my arms, was silent and wide-eyed too, and the several women in white aprons who were busying themselves about the room smiled at her – and us – in a friendly manner. We were both astonished and delighted to see that one of these women was our friend Martha from the pesthouse: Martha in a long white apron, her unruly hair pushed up and almost hidden under a new starched cap.
    â€˜I’ve been waiting for you!’ she said, coming up and kissing us in turn. ‘Mrs Black told Cook that you would be arriving here one day this week.’
    â€˜But what are you doing here?’ I asked, very surprised.
    â€˜Well, my sister has a new husband and I could notabide him,’ she said. ‘I heard that her Ladyship wanted a cook-maid and so I applied, knowing that you would be coming here soon.’
    She stroked Grace’s cheek and the babe, recognising her, began to babble at her in nonsense baby-talk. Meanwhile, I still stared around the room in awe, for here was a grand home, a stately home, such as I’d never entered before. Through a doorway I could see into a still room, where thick bunches of dried flowers and herbs were hanging, and another doorway led into a buttery, with vats of cream and butter standing by to set. I wondered about the rest of the house and concluded that if I was in such great awe at the kitchen, I might possibly be struck dumb by all the rest of it.
    â€˜What are we to do here – do you know?’ I asked Martha, for Sarah and I had often talked about how we might be received by Lady Jane and what she would do with us.
    â€˜What will be our status?’ Sarah added.
    Martha shook her head. ‘I have no idea,’ she said, ‘for though we maids keep our ears pricked for gossip, we rarely hear anything of merit. The undercook is above me, and the cook is above her, and the housekeeper is above us all. I have never even seen Lady Jane! I do know that Lord Cartmel is something to do with Parliament, but he’s away in Oxford where they’re sitting.’
    â€˜Why sitting in Oxford?’ Sarah asked.
    â€˜Because of the plague still being in London,’ Martha replied, dropping her voice on the dread word.
    â€˜But we did hear that the numbers of dead werefalling,’ I said.
    Martha nodded. ‘They say there’s an improvement now the cooler weather is come. Thanks be to God,’ she added.
    Grace made a grab for Martha’s cap and pulled it sideways and I moved her on to my other hip and so away from temptation. ‘Is this a good house to work in?’ I asked.
    â€˜It is,’ Martha assured us, ‘for although Mrs Black is strict, she’s fair. And it’s most beneficial to the staff that the poor lady suffers permanently from—’
    But she did not continue, for just then there was a strange little noise from the doorway and a moment later the woman in black we had first spoken to some forty days before appeared. This was, in fact, Mrs Black (which name I thought most appropriate for someone wearing such sombre clothing), housekeeper to Lady Jane. As such, she supervised all the female staff: cooks, maids, governesses, needlewomen and launderesses.
    Another moment and we were to find out what Martha had been about to tell us of Mrs Black, for as she came towards us she hiccupped twice, tiny movements which jerked her head back and caused a little inward breath. I felt a laugh rising inside me but managed to keep it down, for Mrs Black was holding out her arms for Grace.
    â€˜At last! You are welcome to Highclear House,’ she said, adding, ‘and indeed the little one is more than