Page 17 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Yes, m’lady,’ Edith agrees quietly. ‘Are you done yet, Beth?’ She looks impatiently over at the young girl.
‘Almost,’ Beth mumbles.
Edith stands awkwardly, her hands clasped in front of her as she waits for Beth to finish the fire.
‘Edith, I want to thank you for your help with Nora earlier,’ Celeste says, turning back from the window.
Edith nods. ‘Least I could do when the young mistress was in so much pain and there wasn’t a midwife or a doctor nowhere to be seen.’ Edith immediately looks like she wishes she could take back the last part of her statement. ‘I … I mean, I knows you had your reasons m’lady. Banning mistletoe at Christmas is one thing, but medics too?’
‘You know why Jasper disapproves of mistletoe in the house at this time of year,’ Celeste says, avoiding the question.
‘It reminds him of the old master, God rest his soul.’ Edith closes her eyes for a moment and crosses herself. ‘Because he built Mistletoe Square. Yes, I knows that. But having a doctor in the house wasn’t going to do that, and with such a difficult birth too … ’ Edith looks a little accusingly at her mistress.
‘Nora did very well in the circumstances. I am so proud of her.’ Celeste’s voice breaks slightly and she hurriedly looks out of the window again.
‘What time are they coming?’ Edith asks. ‘To take the baby?’
Celeste’s head whips round. ‘You know about that?’
‘We all knows, m’lady.’ Edith dares to sound a little reproachful now.
Celeste glances over at Beth, but although she must be listening to this conversation, she silently continues tending to the fire. ‘I suppose you all think we are doing a terrible thing?’ Celeste asks.
‘It’s not any of our business what to think, m’lady,’ Edith says, clearly wanting to say more, but this time managing to hold back her words.
Celeste sighs. ‘Speak your mind, Edith. I will not hold what you say against you. I promise. We have known each other a long time now, have we not?’
Fire complete, Beth stands up, straightens her apron and comes and stands by Edith’s side.
‘We certainly have,’ Edith agrees. ‘Way back before you and the master, I mean the old master, moved into this house.’ She pauses, then she nods quickly, as if she’s allowing herself to speak her mind. ‘It’s just … it’s Christmas tomorrow, m’lady. You can’t allow the young mistress to give her baby up at Christmas. It’s just not right.’
‘Does it make a difference?’ Celeste asks, a look of despair on her pale face. ‘It is going to happen whatever. So why not at Christmastime?’
‘The old master wouldn’t have let it happen,’ Edith mumbles. ‘Whatever the time of year.’
Celeste stares hard at Edith, a mix of sorrow and grief on her face now. ‘You are absolutely right, Edith, he would not. But things are different now; Joseph is no longer with us. Jasper is master of this house now, and we must abide by what he wants.’
‘But Nora is your daughter, m’lady,’ Edith says desperately, ‘and that little one up there is your grandchild. You can’t just let the master get rid of him.’
‘Get rid of who?’ Another much louder and more powerful voice joins the women now, as a tall, disagreeable-looking man with black hair enters the parlour. He’s wearing breeches, a long tail coat with a matching waistcoat and black knee-high boots. ‘What are we discussing, Celeste?’
The two maids immediately bow their heads.
‘Nothing for you to concern yourself with, husband. We were just discussing a small rat problem that Edith and Beth have brought to my attention. Thank you, Edith. That will be all for now.’ She nods hurriedly at Edith.
‘Yes, m’lady,’ Edith says, bobbing a curtsey before grabbing Beth and making for the door. I watch them leave, quite forgetting how strange this all is, but so entranced already by this story my only thought is, what happens next?
‘Quick, stand up!’ I hear Angela say, and I turn to see Estelle nimbly leap up from her chair.
‘What? Why?’
‘Just do it,’ Angela instructs.
I stand up and quickly follow them over to where they’re now standing on the other side of the room, right where the dining table had been until a few moments ago.
‘Jasper is heading towards the chairs and you don’t want them sitting on you,’ Angela whispers, as we watch the man walk across to the fireplace. ‘It’s really not pleasant at all.’
I’m about to ask her what she means, when Jasper speaks.
