The field kitchen is nearby

By the time you returned from your walk, the field kitchen had settled into an easy rhythm.

The hunting party had long since finished their luncheon, leaving the cooks to wash pots, pack wagons and prepare everything for the journey back to Kingsmere Hall.

Martha stood in the middle of it all with her sleeves rolled to her elbows.

"If those plates aren't stacked properly," she declared to a pair of nervous footmen, "I'll make the pair of you scrub every pan in the county."

She caught sight of you a moment later.

"Well. If it isn't my favourite servant."

"I wasn't aware I ranked quite so highly."

"You don't."

She grinned.

"The competition's simply dreadful."

You laughed.

"I'll take the compliment all the same."

"Wise man."

With the worst of the work behind them, Martha waved you over to a fallen tree a short distance from the camp.

"For once," she said, sitting down with a satisfied sigh, "I've actually earned five minutes of doing absolutely nothing."

You joined her.

The sounds of clattering cookware drifted lazily through the trees.

"You seem to enjoy this," you observed.

"The work?"

"The chaos."

"Oh, I do."

She smiled.

"Not because it's easy. Because when everyone's pulling in the same direction, there's something rather satisfying about it."

"I hadn't thought of it that way. I suppose servants become rather invisible."

"Exactly."

She picked up a twig and idly snapped it in half.

"I don't mind hard work. What I mind is people assuming it happens by itself."

After a pause, she glanced sideways at you.

"So."

"What were you like as a boy?"

You smiled.

"Curious. I climbed where I shouldn't. Asked too many questions. Got caught often enough."

She laughed.

"I knew it."

"You've always had that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're about to wander somewhere inconvenient."

"I've been told that before."

"I imagine you have."

"And you?"

She leaned back against the log.

"I was forever fighting with my brothers."

"You have brothers?"

"Three."

"Older?"

"Unfortunately. They insisted little sisters existed solely to be teased."

"And did you tolerate it?"

She looked at you as though the answer were obvious.

"I bloodied a few noses."

You burst out laughing.

"I don't doubt it."

"It improved their manners considerably."

The two of you shared another laugh.

"My father always said I was born arguing. He wasn't entirely wrong. I just dislike people who think shouting makes them important."

"I've noticed."

She smiled proudly.

"If someone deserves respect, I'll give it gladly. If they don't..."

She shrugged.

"They'll know soon enough."

The afternoon breeze stirred the branches overhead.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The silence felt remarkably easy.

"You know," Martha said at last, "I'm glad you came over. I wasn't sure you'd remember us servants once you'd spent enough time with the ladies and gentlemen."

"I've rather enjoyed the company down here."

"Good answer."

She nudged your shoulder with hers. Her face drew closer to yours and you held your breath.

"You may yet survive this house."

A horn echoed faintly through the woods.

Martha stood and dusted off her skirt.

"Back to work."

She offered you a crooked smile.

"Try not to get yourself lost before supper."

"I'll do my best."

You smiled as the two of you returned to the bustle of the field kitchen.

It was becoming remarkably easy to seek Martha out.

And easier still to understand why so many people, despite her sharp tongue, trusted her without hesitation.