Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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The servant quarters were a rabbit warren of corridors and small rooms set in the northern wing of the mansion. This part of the house got little natural light. I made my way past our busy kitchen. Its heat swirled out through the open door in buffeting walls, bringing with it rich smells of cooking meat, herbs, and spices. The clatter of cutlery on porcelain, the clanking of cups on wood, and boisterous conversation came from the Servants Hall where we all gathered to eat in shifts—the meals cooked and served by whoever was on rotation that evening.
I headed toward the domestic servants' sleeping quarters. We were separated into male and female domains, with family rooms down a further twist of hallways. The Deniauds' soldiers resided in barracks in the back courtyard of the property, no doubt where Mr. Whiskers was billeted for the duration of his stay.
This evening the servant quarters were even more crowded and noisy than usual, as we were lodging the other servants from the Houses who were staying overnight with the Deniauds.
I squeezed past fellow colleagues haunting the hallways who were busy laughing and chatting with one another, catching up on the day's gossip or shouting to gain another's attention from one end of the hallway to the other. Older children were being urged into bed, and servants on the evening shift left to attend to their duties.
There was no privacy in this part of the house. It was normal for all of us to share cramped quarters with one another. Being alone was a strange concept to me. Though I did escape when I could, seeking open space and the solitude and silence in the forest that encompassed the Deniaud estate.
Besides the Servants Hall, there was a common room for us to read or watch television or hang out in, and there was a small garden set aside for us where we could sit outside and soak up the rays of the sun. It was within this garden where I grew and tended white roses that rambled along the cracked brick walls—a space saver in the tiny area set aside for us—and in the height of summer their blooms sweetly perfumed the air.
But if I could rule a House I'd change all of it.
Starting with the name—servant. Staff sounded so much better and more inclusive as if high-ranking families and those of us that served their needs were part of the same team.
I'd have bigger bedrooms for my staff, especially for families, with their own patio closed off from everyone else, just like mortal apartments did. I'd also design a spacious commons garden that was open to everyone. Even the family of the House we served could come and join us. A large lawn where we could play cricket or a game of football, picnic on blankets under the wide-spread boughs of oaks, and with enough room for children to ride their bikes. Anyone who wanted to would have free reign to add to my garden.
I loved to garden. I loved getting my fingers dirty with freshly-turned earth, nurturing a seed into a sapling, then into a tree or shrub or burst of flowers. As much as time allowed, I'd potter about in the gardens with Oswin, and he and I would talk—daydream really—about all the things we'd change.
