Gossip amongst the maids

The afternoon passed quietly.

With luncheon finished and the hunting party occupied elsewhere on the estate, the servants turned their attention to preparing Kingsmere Hall for the evening.

The head butler had sent you to fetch a crate of polished silver from one of the storage rooms beneath the servants' staircase.

As you made your way along the corridor, voices drifted from the laundry room ahead.

The door stood slightly open.

"...she's far too sweet for her own good."

A ripple of laughter followed.

You recognised neither speaker.

Another maid replied.

"Emily?"

"Who else?"

"She blushes if someone so much as compliments her."

More laughter.

"I swear she'd apologise if a gentleman tried to kiss her."

"Oh, don't be so cruel."

"I'm serious."

"She's pretty enough."

"If only she'd stop behaving like a frightened church mouse."

One of the maids lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"Do you know what Alice told me?"

"What?"

"That Emily refused to sneak out with the stable lads during last year's harvest fair."

"No."

"Apparently they were only looking for a bit of harmless fun."

"And Emily?"

"Said she'd rather wait until she married. Does she not know, that you can just take him in the arse? Then it doesn’t count!"

The room erupted with amused groans.

"Honestly..."

"Does she expect life to begin after the wedding?"

"If she keeps waiting for everything to be proper, she'll miss every exciting thing before she's twenty."

Another maid laughed.

"I've told her often enough."

"A girl ought to collect a few adventures while she still can."

"Exactly."

"One day she'll wake up married to some respectable farmer and wonder what all the fuss was about."

There was no real malice in their voices.

Only the careless confidence of young women entertaining one another at someone else's expense.

Still...

Something about it left an unpleasant taste.

You shifted your weight, intending to continue on your way.

That was when you noticed someone standing just beyond the doorway.

Emily.

She just stood there with a basket of freshly folded linen in her arms.

Her eyes were fixed upon the floor.

It was impossible to know how long she had been there. Long enough.

She quietly turned before anyone inside noticed her.

Without a word, she walked away down the corridor.

Her shoulders remained perfectly straight.

Only the way she held the basket a little tighter betrayed how deeply the conversation had wounded her.

You watched her disappear around the corner.

The laughter from the laundry room continued behind you, blissfully unaware that the person they had been discussing had heard every word.