Free Together for Christmas by Carol Rivers Page A

doing so. A black bonnet is required for Sunday service.’ Mrs Burns narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at
Hilda’s green hat and feather. ‘No colours are to be attempted. Hair to be drawn back, braided and pinned securely.’
    Hilda nodded vigorously. She would do anything to live here in this wonderful house. She would make herself new uniform and a black dress in no time at all. As for the black bonnet and going to
church, Hilda gave a slight shudder. She hadn’t been to Mass since she left the orphanage, except at Christmas with Flora and Mrs Bell and Aggie.
    ‘Underwear and footwear,’ continued Mrs Burns, glancing down at Hilda’s rather worn brown boots. ‘Lisle stockings, black of course, and boots polished daily, twice if
necessary. Laced stays, cotton vests, petticoats and bloomers.’
    Hilda thought that she would have to go to the market to buy herself some of these things. Most of her underclothes were darned to within in an inch of their lives. She had only recently made
one petticoat out of two, since the cotton had frayed so badly. As for her bloomers . . .
    The housekeeper drew herself up, her flat chest rising. ‘Now, your wage. As an under housemaid, for the time being, you’ll earn twenty pounds in the year.’
    Hilda smiled. Although this was three pounds short of her current wage, Mrs Burns had added those tantalising words, ‘for the time being’. This must mean there was hope she might
become a permanent member of staff. Hilda vowed silently that she would try to keep on the good side of Mrs Burns. Already Hilda could feel the house drawing her in. She imagined herself as Lady
Bertha’s personal maid. She knew it was possible if she really tried.
    Mrs Burns was moving on. Hilda hurried to follow. At the top of the staircase, on the first landing, Hilda’s heart leaped. A life-sized painting hung before her of a dark-headed young man,
perhaps the most handsome she had ever seen. He posed for the artist, a gun and a dog at his side. His glimmering dark eyes fixed her. Hilda heard her own gasp. Shod in sturdy brown boots, leather
gaiters and tweed jacket, he looked every inch the huntsman. The matching breeches and knee-length stockings, which Hilda had rarely, if ever, seen before, added to his slightly arrogant stance.
The artist had caught the rich, black texture of his hair, and his aloof, sensual gaze and broad shoulders. Hilda took her breath once more. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
    ‘Lord Guy Calvey,’ announced Mrs Burns, as though she was addressing an audience. ‘Son of Lord William, the fourth Earl of Talbott.’
    All Hilda could do was stare. Lord Guy’s presence seemed to fill the wide landing, the next set of stairs, the spacious, opulent and magnificent rooms around them, indeed the whole of
Adelphi Hall. She had never felt as if a painting was alive before. There was any number of works of art at Hailing House, hung in the private rooms. She dusted their frames every day. But none of
them had an effect on her like this.
    ‘Come along, there’s no time to waste,’ scolded Mrs Burns, frowning at Hilda’s hesitation. ‘There are the state rooms to visit yet, where we shall examine the
duties you will be expected to perform at six a.m. sharp, before the household wakes. The saloon, the dining, drawing and smoking rooms, and the library.’ She nodded to a room to her left.
Through gold-gilded double doors Hilda could see shelf upon shelf of exquisitely bound books. An ornate black marble clock stood on a slim oblong table, flanked by delicate vases and pottery. The
highly polished floor was covered by a large oriental rug. Hilda had never seen such opulence. ‘And above us, forty bedrooms and Lord William’s suites to be catered for,’ ended
Mrs Burns sharply.
    Hilda was trying to concentrate. She found it almost impossible. Her gaze was being drawn back to those dark, bewitching eyes in the painting. They called to her, just like Adelphi Hall had