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boots and she was counting on my help to buy new ones, let alone a winter coat now that Lizzie’s had been handed down to Martha. And the shame of it, coming back to our village like that with my tail between my legs, when I had left so proudly! Whatever would we tell the neighbours? And how could I say goodbye to Iris and William, and Miss Harriet?
    The other housemaids were setting off upstairs to clean the bedrooms. I could tell from the way they looked at me - Becky curious but not unkind, Jemima triumphant - that Mary must have told them my situation. ‘There you are, Polly,’ Mary said to me now. ‘Do your best over the next few days and you may still get a decent character reference.’ And she put an arm round my shoulder to shepherd me along.
    It was kind of her to speak to me like that, but I knew she was worried that I would not see the point in trying any more, and there was a great deal of work to be done. All those guest bedrooms had to be cleaned and the beds made every day, and several of the ladies who were coming to stay were not bringing servants with them. Mary and Becky would be maiding the married ladies, Jemima the single, and many of their duties would fall on my shoulders. I have always worked hard, though; it is in my nature to do the best I can, no matter what the circumstances, and I was not going to change now.
      The Hall did look lovely that day, ready for the house party and the ball to come. There were fires, clean towels and linen in every bedroom, fresh writing paper and candles on each desk, and huge bowls of flowers on all the gleaming side tables, despite the season. Lord Vye had supervised the building of three hothouses the year before, and the gardeners had been raising orchids, lilies and freesias all winter. We couldn’t help pausing now and then to breathe in their fragrance, alongside the familiar Swallowcliffe smells of beeswax polish, wood smoke and baking.
    I had been so proud to come here, yet now all this beauty and comfort was like a knife in my heart. ‘Look what you will be leaving behind,’ the rooms seemed to whisper to me as I walked through them. ‘Such luxury is not for the likes of you. Go back and skivvy in some humble place where you belong.’
    The rest of the day passed in a dream. Our guests began arriving in the afternoon; suddenly the house was full of elegantly-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and all the welcoming hustle and bustle that came with them. Coachmen and footmen hurried to and fro with armfuls of luggage, while we showed the visitors to their rooms and made sure they had everything they needed. Mrs Henderson seemed to be in a hundred places at once: Lady So and So’s hatbox had been mislaid on the journey from the station; Lord What’s his Name would like another pillow and the windows opened in his room - the Countess, however, was nowhere near warm enough and wanted the fire banking up. Then on top of everything else, the Dowager Duchess’s maid had forgotten to pack her diamonds and a footman had to be sent back to London by the very next train to pick them up. Not such a great disaster, though you might have thought so for all the fuss and squawking that went on. I could not help feeling a little bitter with all the worries that were staring me in the face. The way things had turned out, come to think about it, I should have owned up to breaking the figurine in the first place and saved Miss Harriet the trouble.
    I did not see Harriet to talk to all day as she was taken up with her cousins, and I couldn’t tell Iris what had happened either, since she was too busy to set foot outside the still room. Then in the evening we were rushed off our feet, taking up cans of hot water for the guests’ hip baths and making sure each room had plenty of soap and towels. Dinner always started at eight o’clock sharp - Lord Vye hated to be late - and Mrs Henderson told us maids we could watch the company going into the dining room from the upstairs