Fenella Miller by To Love Again Read Free Book Online Page B

of the one she had allocated to her offspring. It had been suggested the children move into the dressing room, but she would not hear of it. Her children always came first where possible.
    Mr Foster's apartment was as comprehensive as hers, William had made short work of putting that in order. The butler did not stand on ceremony, and seemed perfectly content to sleep on the male side of the house until his master was able to return to his own bed chamber. The master suite was also pristine, the bed made up, the discarded garments collected and taken to the laundry.
    All in all it had been a satisfactory day. If Mr Bucknall had been compos mentis none of the rearrangements could have taken place. His accident had benefited everyone including himself. Mr Foster had told her the master never went to bed because he suffered terrible nightmares. Today he had been sleeping in a bed without any signs of restlessness. It must have been lack of sleep that made him so irritable, it was possible he would be more amenable in the morning.
    Mrs Turner had proved to be an excellent choice as cook. The evening meal had been quite delicious. Roast chicken with fresh vegetables from the garden followed by a strawberry tart and thick cream. She had eaten it in her parlour, the staff found it inhibiting having her amongst them.
    There had been no problem of this sort at her previous employment, she and the housekeeper had eaten with the large staff. Of course, as a senior servant, she had sat at the head of the table but, apart from that, she was treated no differently from anyone else. The hierarchy below stairs was as rigid as that above. Everyone had a place and woe betide them if they did not stick to it.
    With luck Mr Bucknall would remain in his bed tomorrow morning until the doctor had been. He was due to attend at 11 o'clock, so she had been told. This would give ample time to familiarise herself with the rest of the house. She had already been in the drawing-room where Mary had found pleasure in the pianoforte, it was a grand room but one she believed Mr Bucknall would not use. When it had been cleaned to her satisfaction she would have the furniture put under holland covers.
    There was a delightful room, known as the yellow drawing room, that would be ideal. The breakfast room would be used as dining room; it would be nonsensical to use the grand dining room and seat him on his own at a table that could easily accommodate more than thirty.
    It remained to be seen if Mr Bucknall would acquiesce to her plans. She hoped that when he saw how pleasant the house was he would accept the changes without losing his temper. If he bellowed at any of the young girls they would turn tail. She had warned them to be as unobtrusive as possible, to do their duties early in the morning or when they knew that their master was elsewhere.
    A light tap on the door roused her from her reverie. Tilly appeared. "I've come for your tray, ma'am. Do you require anything else this evening?"
    "Thank you, no, tell Cook it was delicious. Once the kitchen is cleared, if Mr Foster has no requirements, then you are all free for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow the men must clear the servants' hall so that you will have somewhere of your own to sit in your free time."
    Slowly the great house settled into silence. The small brass clock, that was her pride and joy, chimed midnight. Emma was too excited to sleep, she would go to the kitchen and make herself a hot drink. A soothing cup of milk with cinnamon and sugar would do the trick.
    It was a balmy night, a full moon streamed in through the windows making a candle unnecessary. However, it was likely to be dark in the corridor so she had best take a candlestick with her. She had removed her cap and apron long ago, her feet were bare beneath her skirts. She did not possess indoor slippers, her boots had to do for both inside and out and it was far cooler without them.
    The nightingales were filling the air with their