The Factory Girl // Book 1 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Twelve

By the next day, I wanted to find out as much as I could about Matilda and just what made her act the way she did. I had asked Esther that night whether Matilda was known to have dramatic shifts in her mood, or attitudes that were so stark in contrast I wondered if she was just making it up. However, Esther had said that for as long as she had been working for the Ealing's, Matilda's mood had been known to change drastically, especially towards new staff. There was no reason for it, no explanation, it was just how she was.

Of course, I wasn't going to accept the idea that Matilda's mood swings were just part of who she was. In my experience, it was rare for someone to change their mood so quickly, there was normally a reason for it. Whatever that reason why, I was determined to find out, though it wasn't going to be easy. Matilda already disliked me, and I didn't want to give her more reasons to despise me seeing as her liking me might end up being the reason I keep my position after the two weeks were up. There was a lot resting on whether Matilda could grow to like me and getting to the bottom of her mood swings looked like it would be my best bet.

Getting to the bottom of her changing moods was going to be difficult, though, especially as the preparations for Matilda's birthday party started the next day. According to Miss Jenkins, the party wasn't for another few days, but the preparations and planning started early per Matilda's request. She wanted everything to be perfect and it was going to happen, it just meant more work for the rest of us. Unfortunately, due to the bruising to my wrist, Dr Ealing had put me on restricted duties, something I had already been doing since I'd arrived. In response, Miss Jenkins had decided I was to help Charlotte choose one of her many dresses, a task that sounded easier than it was.

Charlotte was rather particular about her outfit choices and she had to go through every one of her dresses at least five times before she decided on one. As time-consuming as it was, I found it rather enjoyable. It was much more fun than having to clean the parlour for the third time or having to deal with Matilda for longer than a few minutes.

"I want to try the yellow one," Charlotte said, her eyes scanning across the mountain of dress laid out on her bed. I had never seen so many clothes in one place, especially for someone as small as Charlotte.

"You just tried that one on, Miss. How about one of the ones you haven't tried on?" I suggested, trying to locate the yellow dress that had been buried under the other dresses on the bed.

"The yellow one!" Charlotte demanded, stamping her foot on the ground.

"Very well, Miss." From the pile of clothes on the bed, I pulled out a pale yellow one Charlotte had already tried on several times.

The dress was a pale yellow colour with long-sleeves that had ruffles along the shoulders, the skirt pooled around Charlotte's knees in neat pleats. Around the waist, a small white bow was tied at the back, making the skirt look a little bigger than it was without the bow. The one thing that never changed about her outfit was the white cotton stockings that she wore to cover her legs. Each dress was almost identical, just with a different coloured fabric and a different style of shoe to match. Some of the other dresses had more ruffles on the sleeves, extending down to a small cuff around her wrist. They may have been simple in comparison to some of the clothes I had seen Matilda wear, but they were more extravagant than anything I had ever worn in my life.

I helped Charlotte change out of the pink dress and back into the yellow one, watching as she walked up to the mirror in the corner of the room. She paraded herself back and forth in front of the mirror, making poses and pulling faces as though that would help her judge whether or not to wear the outfit to the party. I struggled to keep a straight face as she posed in front of the mirror, placing her hands on her hips, occasionally giving a little twirl. From my perspective, it all looked rather trivial, spending so long choosing an outfit, but I had never had that luxury, so I suppose to Charlotte it was more than just a dress, it was a symbol of who she was. I couldn't imagine having that pressure put on me at such a young age.