“The maids’ rooms line this corridor. Don’t disturb the other women’s sleep or work. You get two meals a day—a breakfast tray and a dinner tray. They’ll come up at Cook’s convenience. You can eat it then or eat it cold.”
“I, er, yes.” Sophia fisted her hands to keep from dancing at the prospect of a solid roof, a real room, and two prepared meals a day. The woman didn’t seem the type to appreciate such celebrations.
Sophia stepped into the room and turned to thank the woman, only to see her back as she moved toward the stairs. Sophia eased the door shut and took in her temporary home.
A small bed complete with pillow, linens, and a blanket sat against the wall under a sloping roof. Beside it sat a plain washstand with a pitcher and basin at the ready. A wooden chair stood next to a small chest of drawers. A line of hooks graced the cheery but faded yellow wall beside the door. Her knees gave way and she slid down the door to sit on the floor.
It would have seemed simple and bare to her when she’d been a child, but now? Luxury.
Knees still weak, she crawled across the floor and onto the bed, every muscle relaxing as she sank into the mattress. Guilt made her exhaustion heavier as she contemplated what Jonas was doing at that moment. Whatever it was, it didn’t include a bed, a private room, and the promise of a cooked meal.
She would make it better for them both, though. A sudden rush of excitement smoothed over her guilt, dread, worry, and even her aching body. She’d done it. The first step was completed. This was going to work. A new and better life would be theirs.
She drifted into a hazy state that wasn’t quite a nap but certainly wasn’t awake. The arrival of a maid with her dinner tray interrupted her doze, and she had no idea how much time had passed. Possibly quite a while, given the pinch of disapproval in the maid’s face as she took in Sophia lying atop the bedcovers in her clothes. Sophia winced. Her boots were even still on her feet.
The maid didn’t wait for an explanation, not that Sophia had any good one to give. It didn’t matter. One look at the laden tray and the maid was the last thing on her mind.
It was a large bowl of stew that contained more meat and vegetables than water. She gobbled it down, glad that no one was around to witness the unladylike enthusiasm. Not wanting to cause any more work than necessary, she returned the tray to the kitchen herself and then slipped quietly back up to her room.
With her stomach fuller than it had been in years, she undressed and crawled back into bed.
Sleep didn’t come as easily this time. Every creak of the house and whisper of wind against the window startled her awake until trying to sleep left her more exhausted than staying up all night.
The unfamiliar night noises shifted slowly to the scrapes and rumbles of a wakening house. Grateful that she could now rise without guilt, she climbed from the bed and donned her second-best riding outfit. One could also call it her worst riding ensemble, since she only possessed two, but that seemed a disservice to the trusty garment.
Unfortunately, her morning preparations didn’t take a great deal of time. The world outside the window was still dark, and she had nothing to do but wait for the sun to rise and the promised breakfast tray to be delivered.
She settled into the lone chair. It would have been simpler—and given her something to do—if she could go below and obtain the food herself, but the woman who’d shown her to this room had been very particular.
There was nothing to do but watch the sky lighten with the edges of a new day’s sun. As she sat in the hard chair with her head propped against the window, she once more fell into a hazy doze.
A short perfunctory knock was followed by the opening of the door, and Sophia jerked back to wakefulness. The chair beneath her tipped, coming to rest against the foot of the bed, leaving her at an awkward angle, looking up at a wide-eyed maid. It wasn’t the same one from the night before, but Sophia guessed the two would compare experiences at some point. She wasn’t going to come out favorably.
Scrambling out of the angled chair was not an easy or elegant feat, and by the time Sophia had regained her composure, the maid had deposited the tray on the chest of drawers and departed.
Aromas she hadn’t enjoyed in ages filled the room, and Sophia’s stomach clenched in anticipation. Last night’s stew had been more than enjoyable, but this . . . Her eyes widened and her mouth watered.
Bread—fresh bread, not the day-old loaves the bakers sold her at a discount—sat beside a bowl of porridge and a plate piled with meat and eggs. Likely the meat was from the day before, but Sophia didn’t care. What little meat she normally ate was scraps of leftover tavern fare tucked into a pastry, so the spread on the tray was sheer delicacy.
There was more than enough for Jonas to eat as well, if she could find a way to transport it. A bowl of porridge couldn’t be wrapped in a cloth and shoved into a sack like a meat pie could, but there had to be something she could do.
She would have to check the clock in the kitchen, but she should have time to go by the knoll where Jonas said he would be waiting before she went to the training yard. After she ate her portion, she scraped the remaining porridge to the side of the bowl and laid the meat and eggs in the other half. The food wouldn’t stay separate on the journey, but Jonas wouldn’t care. He’d be as excited about the jumbled-up fare as she’d been about the prettily laid out tray. Turning the plate over, she set it on the bowl and then tied the napkin around both to secure them.
If she carried it carefully, it shouldn’t spill too much.
Returning the tray to the kitchen herself would be easy enough, but if anyone saw her leaving with her bundled dishes, they’d have questions.
Her two changes of clothes now hung from the wall pegs, leaving her bag nearly empty. She dumped what contents remained onto the bed. Her father’s horse training manuals, the miniature of her family, and a small wooden box that had once held a set of jewelry were all quickly transferred to the top drawer of the chest. They didn’t even fill it halfway.
Gently, she laid the covered bowl in the bottom of the bag.
Frowning, she experimented with lifting the sides. As soon as she put the strap on her shoulder, the food would fall sideways and spill. It needed support. She pulled a sheet from the bed and coiled it in the bag as a nest for her brother’s meal.
Satisfied that it was as secure as could be, she laid the bread atop the bowl and secured the flap of the knapsack. For extra protection, she curled her arm beneath the bundle. Just imagining Jonas’s reaction put a smile on her face.
She turned to leave the room, but her body froze as her fingers landed on the latch. Looking over her shoulder at the small chest of drawers, her breath hitched. Those mementos hadn’t been far from her side in years. She hadn’t even left them in the wagon at the circus, instead choosing to store them with the grooming tools and Rhiannon’s tack.
She had no reason to distrust the staff here, but those she’d met hadn’t cared much for her presence. Quickly she stepped back over to the drawers and tucked her few belongings into the bag as well. She would leave them in Jonas’s care until this was over.
Bag under one arm and tray carefully balanced in the other, Sophia eased down the steps to the kitchen. The rooms had been nearly empty when she’d gone down the night before, but this morning there would be plenty of people about. Any of them could notice that her tray was absent of its dishes. Lady Rebecca’s offer of a place to stay would be rescinded if Sophia caused a ruckus.