Investigate sobbing noices.

With the luncheon finally prepared and loaded for the hunting party, the kitchens settled into a rare moment of calm.

An organiser had disappeared into the pantry to inspect the remaining supplies, leaving the servants to enjoy a few precious minutes before the afternoon's work began.

You stepped out into one of the quieter service corridors.

That was when you heard it.

Someone was crying.

The sound was faint, almost hidden beneath the bustle of the house.

You followed it to a small linen room tucked away behind the kitchens.

The door stood slightly ajar.

Inside, Martha sat beside Emily on a wooden bench.

Emily's eyes were red, her hands wrapped tightly around a handkerchief.

Martha looked up as you appeared.

"For heaven's sake," she muttered.

"You may as well come in now you've found us."

You hesitated.

"I didn't mean to intrude."

"You aren't."

Martha glanced towards Emily.

"Are you?"

Emily shook her head.

"No."

You quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind you.

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

It was Emily who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry."

Martha immediately frowned.

"Stop apologising."

"You've done nothing wrong."

Emily lowered her head.

"I should have handled it better."

"There wasn't a right way to handle it."

Martha's voice was firm but gentle.

"He cornered you."

Emily took a shaky breath.

"He kept asking me to stay."

"He said I was prettier when I smiled."

"He wouldn't let me walk away."

Her voice became little more than a whisper.

"I didn't know what to do."

You felt your jaw tighten.

"Did he touch you?", Martha asked.

Emily quickly shook her head.

"No. But..."

She searched for the words.

"He looked at me as though..."

"I know," Martha said quietly.

"I've seen men like him before."

Emily looked at her.

"I felt silly afterwards."

"You shouldn't."

"You were frightened. That's reason enough."

Emily wiped another tear from her cheek.

"I kept wondering whether I was simply imagining it."

"You weren't," Martha said.

Martha looked up at you.

"Mr. Blackwood of course.”

A small silence settled over the room.

It was Martha who broke it.

"People like Blackwood rely on decent folk questioning themselves."

"They make everything sound polite."

"They smile."

"They never definitively cross the line."

"So when something feels wrong..."

Emily nodded slowly.

"...you start wondering if the fault is yours."

"It isn't."

The certainty in Martha's voice left no room for doubt.

Emily managed a faint smile.

"I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Martha shrugged awkwardly.

"I only made you a cup of tea."

"You stayed."

Emily reached over and gently squeezed Martha's hand.

"That mattered more."

Martha looked almost embarrassed by the gesture.

"Well... I couldn't very well leave you crying by yourself."

The three of you sat together for a while longer.

The conversation gradually drifted away from Blackwood.

Emily spoke about how frightened she had been of making a scene.

Martha admitted she had learned long ago that the servants often had only one another to rely upon.

You shared a few stories of your own from Sir Edward's household, enough to earn amused smiles from both women.

For a little while, the three of you forgot titles, duties and expectations.

Eventually, the house bell rang once more.

Martha stood first.

"Right."

"Enough hiding."

She offered Emily a hand.

"We've work to do."

Emily accepted it before turning to you.

"Thank you."

"For listening."

"And..."

She smiled a little more confidently than before.

"...for keeping this between us."

"You have my word."

As the three of you returned to the kitchens, you found yourself carrying more than another afternoon's work.

You carried the quiet trust of two people who had chosen to let you see them at their most vulnerable.

It was a trust you had no intention of betraying.