Below the 11 names were brief instructions on how to use the poison test strips that read;

‘Submerge and fully saturate the white test strip. Let stand for 10 seconds. A negative strip will remain white, while a positive strip will turn red.’ 

Well, that’s certainly simple enough. I popped off the wooden cork and fished out two strips with my fingertip. Wasting no time submerging one in the porridge and one in the milk. 10 seconds had come and passed and the strips remained white. This is safe for Lady Isadora to eat. I quickly disposed of the used strips and shoved the vial and note card back in my pocket before giving the chef a quick nod of thanks.

“Make sure to come back at lunch time to meet everyone, dear,” Mrs. Murphy called after me as I made my way up the stairs with the tray.

Following Maisy’s instructions, I walked down the corridor, but I didn't see any knight. I continued down forward approaching a slightly ajar door.

I froze as a scream erupted from the room. 

“I won't forgive you for this- LET GO OF ME!” A voice I had not heard before, but could only assume was Lady Isadora, yelled through the door.

“You sick perverted fucks won’t get away with this, I'll make sure you rot in hell for what you did to me,” her voice was low and threating. 

Something about this was wrong. Every fiber in my being was telling me something was not right here, but I couldn't find the courage to move my body. I was frozen with a paralyzing fear I'd never quite experienced before. My hands were clenching the sides of the tray so hard, they'd turned white. I was actually shaking, the dishes rattled lightly on the tray.

“Please restrain her,” I heard Maisy order, before exiting the room and turning to face me.

Her empty brown eyes stared coldly at me and I struggled to form words. Had she known I was here the whole time?

“Henry, it won't do if you don't announce yourself, the food is bound to get cold,” she said in such a nonchalant manner.

As if she hadn't just ordered her lady to be restrained. She reached out and took the tray from me, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Please bring the coal up and leave it with Sir Ashborne. You won't be needed again until lunch hour. Oh, and do bring the afternoon tea at that time as well,” she said flatly with an unreadable expression as she retreated back into the bedroom.

The door shut softly with a clack. I hadn't realized it but the hairs on the back of my neck had been standing straight up. I don't know what it is, but something is not right with that woman. Just why did they need to restrain her?

I found myself rushing back down the corridor then flying down the stairs two at a time. I stood in the hallway in front of the kitchen door trying to catch my breath and compose myself. 

“Henry, dear, are you alright? Why are you out here?” Mrs. Murphy asked as she was passing by the doorway.

“I assure you, I'm quite alright Mrs. Murphy. Could I trouble you with the location of the storeroom?” I asked, straightening up and clearing my throat.

“That will be the room directly next to this one, convenient isn't it?” She asked with a slight concern showing on her face.

“Quite,” I said with a quick bow before excusing myself.

I could feel her eyes staring after me, I ignored it. Whatever hellish situation I've found myself in, I must deal with it now. By any means necessary.

I opened up a wooden door to a room half the size of the kitchen. It contained all the supplies I needed. All readily within view.

I grabbed a wooden bucket from the shelf and placed it on the floor. There was a rusty metal shovel hanging by a hook on the wall. I took hold of it and began filling the bucket. Once I finished I grabbed my full bucket and closed the storeroom door behind me.

Although I was not looking forward to what I would hear, or see back upstairs for that matter, I had a duty to fulfill. It wouldn't do to act this unprofessionally. I took a deep breath and made my way back to Lady Isadora’s chamber.

Near the end of the corridor, I saw who I presumed to be Sir Ashborne. He looked my way as I approached, coal bucket in hand.

He was a fit young man, a bit younger than I, possibly mid twenties. He had shorter, neatly cut brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and a pair of amber colored eyes. He gave off an air of knightly chivalry. Which was a relief, because from what I heard earlier, I truly believed they were causing the lady some sort of distress.

“Good morning, Sir Ashborne. My name is Henry,” I greeted, closing the distance between us.

“Good morning,” He replied simply with a polite nod, reaching out to take the bucket of coal and retreating into the bedroom.

I stood outside alone for a moment. Idling to make sure I wouldn't witness the lady crying out again. No such sounds came from the room. I shook off the uncomfortable feeling and made my way back to the kitchen.

I was met with a new face upon entering the kitchen. At the table polishing silverware was a woman who looked about in her early 30s. She had auburn hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and a set of dark blue eyes that had smile lines around the corners.

“Hello there, I'm Anita,” she greeted, smiling warmly.

“Hello, my name is Henry. Could I assist you?” I asked, taking a seat across from her looking at the abundant amount of silverware before her. She nodded in thanks as I grabbed a clean cloth from a pile of the table.

We made light conversation as we all gathered in the kitchen. As it turns out, as I expected, Mr. And Mrs Murphy, the head chef and baker, were a married couple of 29 years. Anita, the housemaid, and Shelby, the dairy maid, who I had yet to meet had all been reassigned the same as myself. It's interesting none of us had ever come across each other before, or maybe that was Mr. Abraham's intention.

My stomach began to growl as the combined smells of Mr. Murphy's beef stew and Mrs. Murphy's artisan bread filled the kitchen. It had been a long time since I had a stew with beef, or meat for that matter.

“It smells quite good doesn't it,” Anita said, mirroring my thoughts. I nodded in agreement, a bit embarrassed.

“While it's a little uncommon, we'll be eating our lunch before serving the lady,” Anita said, clearing the silverware from the table. I frowned, we should not be serving ourselves before our master.

“Not to worry, the lady requests late lunches,” Anita added quickly, probably sensing my discomfort.

“That's if she eats anything at all,” Mr. Murphy chimed in, placing a large pot of stew in the center of the table.

“After all that's happened, you wouldn't have much of an appetite either,” Mrs. Murphy retorted, plating a few slices of freshly baked bread in front of everyone.

“What has happen–?” I started to ask before I was cut off.

“Don't eat without me!” An older woman came shuffling in.

“God Shelby, don't bring that smell in here. I've told you so many times!” Anaita complained covering her nose. It took a second  but the light smelled of sour milk and cow manure sifted past my nostrils.

“Yea, yea. You sound like a woman who doesn't know where milk comes from or where cows live for that matter,” she sneered, tossing her smelly apron out into the corridor. That appeared to be the source of the smell.

“Henry, dear, this is Shelby the dairy maid for the east wing,” Mrs. Murphy said, quickly changing the subject. I nodded politely to her and she did the same in return with an added toothy smile.

As we started to dig in, I couldn't help but think that we were quite the dysfunctional bunch. Perfect for a disgraced heir. A short while later Anita broke the silence.

“Oh, I'd almost forgotten, Henry, what were you asking before?” she asked, looking over towards me.

I felt my body stiffen slightly. I typically was not one for gossip, but curiosity had taken a complete hold over me since I'd assumed this position. I honestly didn't care to be frugal with my questions anymore, at least not at this moment.

“Mrs. Murphy, you mentioned a lot had happened, was curious to know what that meant,” I admitted sheepishly.

The table was quiet for a moment and I began to feel as though I shouldn't have asked.

“As nosy as a woman, eh?” Mr. Murphy commented.

“Oh, hush, you were just as curious,” Mrs. Murphy started. She sighed and turned to face me.

“As I'm sure you're aware Lady Isadora came to us due to a scandal, but it seems there was no scandal to begin with,” she continued. I stared at her confused. What on earth was that supposed to mean?

“What do you mean?” I was utterly confused.

“Well, the family doctor came,at the request of the duchess, to perform a virginity and pregnancy check. I'm sure you've heard about the stable boy,” Anita chimed in. I nodded my head, I had heard about the original scandal, many versions of it, in fact.

“The doctor confirmed that not only was she not pregnant, but her virginity was intact. If you had heard the way she cried and screamed through these walls that day, your heart would've broken,” Mrs. Murphy said sadly. I stared at her in shock, none of what she was saying made any sense.

“Damn piss prophets,” Mr. Murphy mumbled under his breath.

“I heard she wasn't conscious when she arrived either, after the poisoning she was unconscious for 3 days, can you imagine waking up to that?” Shelby chimed in.

“That isn't all, it's said that the step sister, Lady Claudia, is the one who told everyone and their mothers in high society about the scandal to begin with. Why would a step mother and daughter do something so cruel, unless of course to get rid of the heir apparen-” Anita added.

“Hush your mouth now. Talking like that will get your tongue cut out at the very least,” Mrs. Murphy stopped her abruptly. I could do nothing but start wide-eyed in shock. While what Anita was saying was completely blasphemous, it certainly held a lot of logical truth. It did seem like a disgustingly evil scheme and I, seemingly, like a fool played into their hands. Oh, the things I thought and said about that poor innocent girl.

“Don't think too deeply about it dear, every one of us at this table shared the same thoughts. The only thing we can do now is just work diligently and protect Lady Isadora as best we can during her stay in the east wing," Mrs. Murphy said in an effort to comfort me. It didn’t work, I felt my stomach start to churn. I was utterly disgusted with myself. My behavior was vile and repugnant of not only someone in my position, but to that of a fellow human being.

“Alright, alright, enough of this gossip talk. Our stomachs are full, let's get back to it, eh?” Mr. Murphy said, rising out of his chair and stomping away. I followed suit, gathering the empty dishes from the table and bringing them to the sink. He may not want to admit it, but I think he's a kinder man than he leads people to believe. 

After lunch was cleared away, Mr. Murphy provided me with another tray of porridge, warm milk, afternoon tea, and some delicate looking pastries. I strip tested everything on the tray and made my way up the stairs. As soon as Sir. Ashborne saw me coming, he placed a light knock at the door, Maisy followed shortly after.

“Thank you, Henry. We shall expect you at dinner,” She said before disappearing back into the room. I gave Sir Ashbourne a slight nod and made my way back to the kitchen. On my way back I passed by Anita.

“Anita, would you happen to have a pen and stationery handy?” I asked. I watched as she searched a few drawers in the store room and handed me exactly what I'd asked for. I thanked her, she nodded and continued on with her duties.

I made my way back into the kitchen, sitting down at the table that had begun to feel all too familiar. Laying the blank paper out before me, I started to document the accounts of the day. Sparing only the details of unconfirmed gossips as well as Maisy questionable behavior, as I'm sure that was not the type of report Mr. Abraham was expecting.

“What's that? A diary?” Mr. Murphy joked as he passed by the table.

“Leave the man to his work Mr. Murphy!” Mrs. Murphy called out from the pantry.

“I’m to report to Mr. Abraham each day about Lady Isadora’s progress,” I replied simply, looking after his swift moving form. For a larger man, he certainly danced around the kitchen with unexpected grace. Albeit, my eyes shifted over to Mrs. Murphy, it remains a complete mystery how any woman might fall for Mr. Murphy's specific set of… charms.

Although, they seem quite content with each other. I wonder how my wife and I might act in our later years? I only hope I never do anything deserving of being struck with a rolling pin.

The report was simply written, outlining the relevant factors and significant incidents of Lady Isadora's day. The fact that she'd been restrained, was the most alarming thing on the page. I folded the completed report neatly and placed it in my pocket. A few hours had not passed since the lunch hour and dinner would be coming up shortly.

After a while Mr. Murphy placed a silver tray before me, with a dish I'd never seen before. It was some sort of chicken and rice in what looked like milk? While it smelled divine, I couldn't help but sate my curiosity by asking about the strange dish.

“What dish is this, Mr. Murphy?” I asked, pulling out the test strip vial.

“This is a recipe my great gran used to make when we were unwell. It's called a chicken blancmange. You top shredded poultry and roasted  almonds, over rice that's been poached in milk.” He explained as he finished plating the dish.

“It's sure to cure any ailment, you'll wake up feeling rejuvenated,” Mrs. Murphy said, adding a small plate of thinly sliced bread on the tray.

“We'll be having this for dinner, it might do you well. You're all stick and a few bones,” Mr. Murphy said. I laughed off his joke, grabbing the tray and heading off up the stairs.

The hall was so quiet, you would never think there had been any disturbance on this floor at all. Sir. Ashborne nodded politely towards me and placed a knock at the door. Soon after, Maisy emerged. She didn't linger nor did she mince words. She once again thanked me for my service and told me I wouldn't be needed for the rest of the evening and that I could take my leave as soon as any outstanding duties were completed for the day. I watched her retreat back into the bedroom and wondered what exactly was going behind that door?

I bid Sir. Ashborne a good evening and joined the rest of the east wing attendants at the kitchen table for dinner. Trying not to seem too excited about the idea of having meat for the second time in one day, I dug a spoon into the dish. Filling it up with shredded chicken, rice, and almonds. It dripped with sweet-smelling milk.