I hurried down the hall with the other servants, and entered the noisy bustle of the kitchen. I was instantly struck by how hot it was in there, such a cramped space, full of steaming dishes and sweating servants. Henrietta called me to her.
“The dinner is not quite ready yet. I want you to go dust down in the library. Off you go then!” She threw me a rag and pushed me out of the door, before I had time to call Grace to come with me.
I sighed and walked down the hall way to the library. No one ever entered that room but Grace and I, even though we were to stick to the third floor. Lady Margaret had never been one for reading. The library had belonged wholly to my uncle, God bless his soul. I turned the brass handle on the oaken double doors and entered the cool, peaceful, book-filled room.
I was instantly aware of a presence in the room—that was someone else was there with me. I looked around but found no one. Then, as I was just beginning to dust the mantelpiece, I turned to see Mr. Monty Bryans sitting, legs folded, on the big red armchair that belonged to my uncle.
“Good evening.” He said quietly, smiling with a charm that I didn’t know men were capable of.
I only nodded back at him, and then turned to dust the mantle like I had intended. I looked up at the clock and realized it was eight ‘o clock. A very late dinner we would be having that evening, indeed.
“This is a fine house, is it not?” Bryans asked, very quietly.
“I suppose it is.” I replied solemnly, keeping my eyes on the mantelpiece. I was a bit paranoid, I admit. But can you blame me? After all, he was a friend of John’s. And that meant trouble.
“I wonder why Lady Margaret keeps it so dull and gloomy.” He pondered, not addressing me.
“Perhaps that’s just the way she likes it. After all, she did loose her husband.”
“Ah, yes.” Sighed Bryans. “I had forgot.”
I could feel his eyes on me, as I finished with the mantel and headed over to the coffee tables.
“You are the dependant John spoke of, I presume?” He asked, lifting one eyebrow.
I looked back on him with a hard look, “Yes.” Was my simple reply.
“I only know it because John spoke of you. He said that you were the prettiest maid in the house, besides that blonde green-eyed witch, of course, what a gem.” He said, with a manly desire. I saw how he licked his lips at the mention of my friend, Grace, and I knew then that I hated him. I said nothing as he continued to speak. “Yes, well John did not lie about your beauty. Is it also true that you tell stories to the young children in town?”
“Yes.” I replied quickly. I had never prided myself on those stories. I simply made them up in my mind, and would comfort the poor children in the town nearest Lithstone with the tales. They were all fiction, of course, but I loved the excitement that shone in their eyes, the curiosity and wonder. Their smiles were all the payment I needed for my imagination.
“That’s quite a coincidence, considering that I am currently looking for playmate for my son, Nathaniel.” He said, putting a finger to his chin. “Perhaps, you would like to come to my estate, and read to him, tell him stories, that sort of thing? Of course I would pay you handsomely, and you can have your own bedroom, meals included. I would have to speak to the Lady of the house for your permission to leave.”
“No thank you.” I answered quickly. Too quickly, it seemed. Bryan stood and came over to me.
“Ileana, is it?” He asked. I nodded, fear showing in my eyes, no matter how I willed it to go 
“Because. I would not want to leave Grace. She is all I have.” I answered, holding my chin up.
“Ah, I see. So the young filly must come too then. I will speak with Lady Margaret and make the arrangements. Thank you ever so much for your consent.” Bryans spoke, a coldness creeping up into his voice. With this being said, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away.
I was left in the cold, dark room, wondering exactly what had just happened.
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