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 grey-green 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.

The door clicked shut. 

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.

Where I was met with a new face.

At the table polishing silverware was a woman who looked to be 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 the others gathered in the kitchen.

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, 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!” A woman yelled before shuffling in the room.

“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 smell of sour milk and cow manure sifted past my nostrils.

I cringed inwardly.

“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 with a 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, and I 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 said with a sigh as she 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 explained.

I stared at her confused.

What on earth was that supposed to mean?

“What do you mean?” I pressed.

“Well, the family doctor came, at the request of Her Grace, to perform a virginity and pregnancy screening... 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 from the start. 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 out 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, was the one who told everyone and their mothers in high society about the scandal to begin with. Why would a step-mother and sister do something so cruel, unless of course it was to-” 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 stare wide-eyed in shock.

While what Anita was saying was completely blasphemous, it certainly made a disturbing amount of sense.

It did seem like a disgustingly evil scheme and, I, seemingly, like a fool believed every word that crossed my ears…

Oh, the things I thought and said about that poor 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.

After giving Sir Ashbourne a slight nod, I 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.

Making my way back into the kitchen, I sat down at the wooden 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's 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.

“Leave the man to his work Mr. Murphy!” Mrs. Murphy scolded 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 own wife and I might act in our later years?

I only hope I never do anything deserving of being struck with a rolling pin.

My report was simple. It outlined 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 simply 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 on behind that door?

Shaking the thought off, 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.

No sooner than I opened my mouth to take a bite of the savory dish, did we hear a gut-wrenching scream.

We all froze.

Knowing all too well the source of the agonizing wailing.

Each of us sat completely still, unsure of what to do…

Of what could be done.

The silence was unbearable.

Who could eat, as Lady Isadora’s pained cries overtook the kitchen table?

The atmosphere grew dark, the air… heavier.

It had never been so hard to share a meal, I don't think anyone even took a single bite of the chicken blancmange at all.

Only a moment had passed before my heart could no longer stand listening to the Lady crying out in such agony.

While I felt awful for doing so, I quickly excused myself.

Having practically run out of the kitchen.

Never in my life had I experienced such an awkwardly painful meal, but that was nothing compared to the girl up there, who seemed to be going through too much suffering for one lifetime. 

Mr. Abraham relieved me for the day after I'd submitted my report and unused test strips.

A report, to which he read with no particular commentary or outward display of feeling.

Be it overt professionalism or an unempathetic resolve, I couldn't help but wonder about his sincerity for the poor girl's plight.

My mind's incessant rumination over what had been done to Lady Isadora would not grant me a moment's peace.

Focusing on the heavy sound of gravel crushing roughly beneath my feet on the road home was the only thing I could do to keep the thoughts of the day from clawing back to the forefront of my mind.

Those thoughts were like demons, growing stronger as the sun faded.

And…

Without realizing it, for the first time in a long time, I'd missed the sunset.

That stunning golden hour had passed so much more quickly than it came–

I felt a sudden brush against my pant leg.

I looked down.

Jack had come to greet me.

Although I didn't know how long I'd been standing there, I somehow knew Jack had kept me company.

I reached down stroking his soft silken feathers. He let out a low rumbling ‘coo’.

“Until the morning, my friend,” I said softly, before making my way toward the cottage door as it opened.

“Henry?” Lyra's soft call echoed from within.

“I'm home,” I replied, crossing the threshold and pulling her into a strong embrace.

Before I knew it I had changed and found myself seated at the table.

A humble meal spread before me, that I for some reason couldn't bring myself to touch. 

“Are you not hungry, Henry?” She asked from the chair beside me, raising a hand, and  softly stroking my upper back.

I shook my head quickly and began to eat.

With each spoonful I struggled to keep the nausea that was threatening to erupt down in the pits of my stomach.

After dinner, we spoke a bit before retiring for the evening.

Lyra was strangely curious about Lady Isadora.

She flooded me with many questions.

Had she been seen by a doctor? What had the results been? Did she have a particular reaction to the incident?

I answered her truthfully, chalking the questions up to mere intrigue.

The one thing I did firmly state were my feelings on the supposed disingenuous nature of her family, as it seemed like an intentionally cruel and harmful act.

Lyra didn't have a response for that.

We sat in a comfortable silence, before turning in for the night.

But I found myself unable to sleep. As I lay awake, my stomach churned.

I couldn't help but feel nauseated by my actions.

How could a grown man think so poorly of an innocent child?

My deplorable behavior rang all too clearly in the back of my mind, threatening to never rid itself.

I racked my brain tirelessly about how I could better assist Lady Isadora moving forward.