Lifting Heather’s pelisse, she found a tiny white kitten nestled inside.
‘Heather!’ Grace cried in exasperation. ‘We are already taking Ginger on your insistence—we cannot take another!’
‘But Ginger will be lonely without a companion, and I thought Garlic would be perfect for him. They belong together!You would not be so heartless as to separate them, would you?’ Heather pleaded, wide-eyed.
Grace sighed, unable to deny her sister when they were already leaving so much behind.
‘I suppose I should have expected this,’ she muttered. ‘With a name like Ginger, it was bound to be either Bread or Garlic.’
THE FIVE-MILE JOURNEYto their new home stretched on at a painfully slow pace. The roads were thick with mud after an English downpour, and the carriage wheels struggled through the waterlogged paths.
At first, Heather remained optimistic, chattering about how she would arrange the furniture and what kinds of curtains she wanted. Her excitement was boundless, and more than once, Mrs Merriweather had to remind her to sit still and stop flailing her arms before she accidentally poked someone in the face.
But as they neared their destination, her enthusiasm faded.
The cottage loomed before them in a state of utter disrepair. To say it needed work was an understatement.
Mrs Merriweather, Betty, and Heather all stared in dismay.
Jimmy gave a low whistle, while Johnson stroked his jaw and remarked wryly, ‘We are going to need more pairs of hands.’
The cottage sat nestled between two fields, with a small parcel of land that looked as though it had once been a vegetable garden but was now overgrown and wild. Behind it, a sparse crop of trees framed a breathtaking view of the surrounding countryside. The sweeping valley stretched towards the nearest village, offering a picturesque scene that almost—but not quite—compensated for the lack of comforts in their new abode.
Once, the cottage might have been a handsome dwelling, but years of neglect had taken their toll. Overgrown grass was rampant, weeds crept along the pathway and up the walls, andbehind the house, a half-collapsed shed stood in ruin. It had likely once housed cows or horses but was now unfit for even chickens.
The gates were decayed, and the fences leaned precariously, desperate for repair. Slipped tiles marred the cottage roof, ivy had wound itself around the walls like an uninvited guest, and several windowpanes were missing. Inside, the rooms were spacious but thick with dust and grime. Shattered, uneven tiles lay beneath their feet, and spiders and insects had claimed every shadowed corner.
A few pieces of furniture remained, though all were in need of thorough cleaning and mending. The only truly sturdy furnishings were the four-poster beds in the bedchambers. They had likely been built inside the rooms, as removing them without dismantling the entire frame would be impossible.
Heather and Mrs Merriweather were visibly deflated. Grace, however, could see the potential—but how would she convince the others to see it as she did? She made a mental note of the major repairs. First, the house needed to be made weatherproof. The roof required retiling in some areas, fireplaces needed unblocking, and several windows had to be replaced. She spoke to Johnson, instructing him to hire some men from the village to begin the work.
Her next task was to clear the kitchen to prepare meals and clean the servants’ bedrooms on the ground floor. She assigned Betty and Mrs Merriweather to start in the kitchen, knowing that once Jimmy and Johnson returned, they could begin in the servants’ quarters. With clear direction, Betty and Mrs Merriweather bustled into action.
‘Right you are, Miss Grace! A little hard work is all we need, and we can get this place in order soon enough,’ Mrs Merriweather replied, though not entirely convincingly.
Meanwhile, Heather and Grace set to work upstairs, each choosing their bedrooms. They also selected one for Mrs Merriweather, who refused to be paid as a companion and was now staying with them as family. The rooms, though spacious, needed airing out, but most importantly, they had intact windows and no holes in the ceiling. Thick layers of dust coated every surface, and the rugs and mattresses needed beating. Any broken or irreparable furniture and paraphernalia left by the previous owners were promptly discarded.
Heather, having never cleaned anything in her life, was hopeless. Her idea of sweeping consisted of wildly swinging the broom around, which only succeeded in hurling dust into the air, sending her into a violent fit of coughing and spluttering.
Startled by the ruckus, Betty ran upstairs with a bowl of water, only to find both sisters staring at her in confusion.
Laughing, Betty demonstrated how sprinkling water over the floor prevented the dust from rising. The tip was most welcome, and with renewed effort, Heather eventually managed to clear a small corner of the room. But when Grace pointed out the rest of the bedchamber, Heather was deflated once more.
‘This is ridiculous! How do people use these things?’ she huffed, glaring at the broom. Frustrated, she threw it onto the floor and stomped on it—only for the wretched thing to snap up and strike her back.
Grace stifled a laugh. ‘I know you are not annoyed with the broom—you are just disappointed with the house,’ she said knowingly.
Even Grace did not remember the cottage looking quite this bad when she had first come to view it. A pang of homesickness overcame her as she thought of the Manor—how warm and inviting every room had been. The servants had never let a speck of dust settle, and all their needs had been catered to. Now, theywere reduced to battling dust and waging war against cleaning tools.
How different their lives were, just a few short hours ago.
Grace sighed. ‘Look, squirrel, we need to keep going. If we give up at the first sign of difficulty, how will we ever manage? I know it is hard, but we can make this our home. In a way, it can be better than the Manor—because no one has the power to take this away from us.’
She wiped the tears from her sister’s face, unintentionally smearing it with dirt. But the words had the desired effect. Heather perked up, and after a few more attempts, she managed to speed up considerably with the cleaning.
When Johnson returned, he and Jimmy set to work beating the mattresses and rugs to remove the dust. They also cleared the fireplaces in the bedrooms. At one point, Jimmy, in his usual miscalculation, managed to get stuck in the flue, having foolishly squeezed his scrawny body inside. It took the combined effort of Johnson, Heather, and Grace to pull him out. Mrs Merriweather was less than amused—she scolded the boy mercilessly as she roughly scrubbed his blackened face with soap and water.
With the worst of the grime tackled, Grace and Heather laid clean sheets on the beds and took a moment to admire their amateurish handiwork. Though not perfect, it was progress. Utterly exhausted, they made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where they were greeted by the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread.
