Persuasion in the Pantry [Maid for More #1]

Chapter 37- Part 1: Promotion

(This chapter is coming to you in 3 parts, mostly because I don't want to keep you waiting any longer :)  )

Verushka raced across the field, her feet tripping over in Liara's larger boots. Despite the difference in size she was grateful they had switched since the evening mist had dampened the long grass enough to soak even her sturdiest of slippers. She paused to tighten the sodden laces and then gave chase once again to the untempered whims of her heart.

What was she doing? She chided herself between gasping intakes of air. She was running headlong into a situation with a duke that she had no hope of containing. She didn't know what awaited her, and to be honest she barely knew what she had left behind. Cain had all but told her he wanted nothing to do with her. He could have dressed it up in pretty words about being betrothed to another on the command of the Queen, but when all was said and done, it meant that he was just not interested in the impoverished maid in his pantry.

Verushka vaulted over a rickety fence and halted just as the impressive marble columns of the house came into view. It had all the stately prowess of a ducal home but even in the dark it seemed beautiful and welcoming. Where the shadows and weight of tradition bore heavily on the harsh lines of Wyvenstone Hall, Bexley Manor had sweeping curves and expansive windows that seem designed to fill the rooms with daylight. Verushka grimaced as she took in the pristine glass, those windows would be a pain to clean. It seemed that despite her training some parts of her would never die. Perhaps Cain was not completely to blame for continuing to treat her as a maid, considering she still felt like one. But she wasn't just a maid anymore, was she? For all intents and purposes she was the cousin of a duke, and in reality, she was the sister of one. She supposed it was time to start acting like it and wiped the splatters of dirt from her face and attempted to tidy her windswept hair. Finally she squared her shoulders and trod forth into the soft reaching light of the lanterns.

She entered through the kitchens, following Mina's detailed instructions on the layout of the expansive home. Twisting the old handle she listened for any noise in the room beyond. There was nothing, not even the scent of food being cooked and she had to wonder what the master of the house had to eat since he certainly had not attended the dinner next door. The timeworn wooden frame creaked as she stepped inside and she took several moments to admire the Bexley kitchens which were the talk of the county. The Duchess had spared no expense in fitting the room with all the latest accoutrements that were yet to finish the London townhouse. Iceboxes lay waiting on tables close to sinks adorned with brass taps and inset piping. Smooth surfaces gleamed and Verushka couldn't resist peeking her head into the pantry for professional comparison. What awaited her left her mouth hanging open in aghast. The pantry was half as large as the whole kitchen and beautifully aligned shelves were brimming with perfectly stocked and labelled items of food in plenty. Large windows along one wall would have poured in light during the day compared to the basement shroud of kitchens in the city. Verushka was sufficiently impressed when the warmth along the opposing wall drew her close and she turned the corner to see a dual set of the most enormous ovens she had the privilege to witness. Residual heat filled the space of the cosy alcove and a tray of shortbread biscuits lay warming on a tray over the hearth. All she needed was a cup of tea and a book and she could have quite comfortably lived in the heavenly space.

"You there! Maid," a booming voice interrupted her quiet revelry.

"Huh? What?" Verushka spun around patting her uniform frantically to reassure herself of her disguise.

"You need to take the biscuits up to the Duke. You know how he loves his sweets with his nightly cup, so let's not- Oh!" The portly cook stopped short. "You aren't Matilda."

"No Mam," Verushka curtsied then cursed herself at the incredulous look the Cook was giving her. She had gotten her numerous personas all mixed up and curtsied to a servant.