The Serving Girl // Book 2 in the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Twenty-Five

Both Matthew and Tommy had suggested that I leave the Ealing's and return to my family, yet I didn't think it would be as simple as that. I couldn't hand in my notice because I felt as though I would betray those who looked out for me when no one else would. The one thing I didn't want to do was to hurt them and leaving would do just that. I had made a promise to Matilda after Isabel died that I wouldn't hurt Robert and if I were to leave I would do just that. They had given me so much, helped me through grief when I didn't know how to handle it and gave me a purpose when I didn't think I had one. Leaving would hurt everyone I cared about.

Yet I knew that leaving would make me free of Mrs Ealing and her watchful stare, free of her constant desire to find any way to give me an infraction or to punish me for something I didn't even do. It would mean I left her house on my own terms, for my own reasons and not because she had forced me out. I could go back to living with my family and, if it were possible, find a way to be part of it again. For seven years I had been Rosie Grey whilst Rosalie Greyson felt like a different person, someone who had been lost all those years ago. Maybe, just maybe, she could be rebuilt from who I had become. I had my own family at the factory and here my old family was, waiting for me to return to them and didn't seem like that bad of an idea.

"What is that on your apron, Rosie? It looks like strawberry juice," Miss Jenkins asked as I slid into the kitchen that evening. The blood had left a light pink stain on my apron that showed no sign of being removed. Miss Jenkins was right, it did look like strawberry juice.

"It's blood, I had to help out this morning," I replied.

"Give it here, I might be able to get the last of it off." I handed my apron over her. "I thought your job there was to help with organisation and cleaning not helping with the patients themselves."

"There was a situation involving a saw, Doctor Ealing needed an extra pair of hands."

"Well, you better hope it comes off because you're not getting another one purely because Doctor Ealing needed another pair of hands."

"I'm sure it won't happen again, just a one-off incident."

"I hope so."

Miss Jenkins filled the sink with water and sprinkled in some powder, she then added my apron and left it there, crossing to the other side of the room and taking a pan of soup off the stove. She dished the soup into three separate bowls and pushed one towards me just as Esther appeared in the doorway and took her seat at the table. She accepted one of the other bowls whilst Miss Jenkins sat herself down and stuck into her own bowl. As we ate, the fire from the brazier cracked behind us, as did the fire in the fireplace which added a little bit more heat to the cold room in which we ate. The fire in the room Esther and I shared had been lit earlier that day and I looked forward to the warmth went I went to bed that evening.

Whilst everyone ate, I pulled Christopher's letter from my pocket and ran my finger under the seal at the back. The envelope sprung open and I pulled the letter out from inside it, my hands shaking slightly as I started to unfold it. No one knew what he had written in that letter and I certainly didn't know what to expect from him after so many years. James and Matthew had tried to act as though the Factory years never happened. They never asked questions about what it had been like, only about my friends and the people I had spoken of. I couldn't say the same thing about Christopher, being subtle had never been his strong point and I didn't think he would have changed that much in seven years.

"What's that?" Esther asked, tearing off some bread and dunking it into her soup.

"A letter. Matthew gave it to me, it's from Christopher."

"Did you ever open that letter from the other week? The one I found on the table?" Miss Jenkins asked.

"Not yet, I keep forgetting about it."