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round her throat. Then she loosened her hair from its customary roll and pinched her cheeks and lips to colour them.
    ‘All right, everybody.’ Mr Stephens clapped his hands. ‘Guests are arriving. Time to put out the food; the men will see to the barrels, and there’s cider and lemonade for those who prefer it. So off we all go.’
    Mrs Marshall took off her cook’s bonnet, unfastened the strings on her apron, smoothed down her hair and put on a plain cap. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s be off. Enjoy yourselves, but don’t forget that we’re still here to serve.’ She picked up the birthday cake she had made and iced and carried it herself, not trusting anyone else not to drop it.
    Ellen collected a tray of pickled herrings, cold salmon, new potatoes, tomatoes, and fresh bread wrapped in a white cloth, and as she was about to follow Mrs Marshall she noticed the wrapped present meant for Christopher left behind on a chair. She gave a small smile and picked that up too, tucking it under her arm. Mr Stephens had obviously forgotten about it in the rush to get everyone outside and in their places.
    If I can keep this by me and nobody else remembers it until too late, I might be able to present it to him myself. That would give me ’opportunity to talk to him again. I must, she thought. I want to. And I know that it’s what he wants too.

Chapter Six
    Mr and Mrs Hart came down on to the lawn to welcome everyone to their son’s pre-birthday celebration. Mr Hart gave a short address and then Mr Stephens came forward to say a few words of congratulations. Halfway through his speech he fumbled a little with his words, and Ellen knew that he had just realized that he’d forgotten to bring Christopher’s present. She stepped forward just as he was saying ‘and we wish you a happy and prosperous life’; he saw her holding the gift and added, ‘and it is our pleasure to present you with this small token of our esteem.’
    Ellen held out the parcel and Christopher stepped forward too to take it from her, which was not at all what Mr Stephens had intended, but Ellen smiled and dipped her knee to Christopher and then to Mr and Mrs Hart, who both nodded benevolently.
    Everyone clapped and cheered. He was a popular young man; nothing to dislike about him, as Mrs Marshall murmured to the housekeeper. ‘Good thing Ellen remembered the present,’ she added. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’
    Mr and Mrs Hart went back to the house after a suitable interval but Christopher and some of his friends participated in the food and drink, and in a game of tug of war. As the evening drew on everyone became very merry. A couple of fiddlers started to play and one of the tenants brought out a penny whistle and soon people were dancing. The footmen and some of the house guests danced with the maids, the boot boy and the horse lads danced with Letty and Flo, and Mrs Marshall danced with Mr Stephens until both decided that they’d had enough for one day and would return to the house, she for a cup of cocoa and he for a small dram of whisky.
    Mrs Marshall looked back at the dancing group before she left and saw Flo standing next to Tuke, who was drinking from a tankard, one arm round her waist. The fire was sending up flickering sparks into the now dark sky; there was a moon and bright stars high in the heavens. Another group of people were gathered about the fire but she couldn’t see Ellen, or Master Christopher either, and that bothered her. She narrowed her eyes. Her near vision wasn’t very good but her long sight was sharp, and she saw a girl and a young man walking towards the trees.
    ‘Tuke,’ she called on a sudden whim.
    He turned round, and when she beckoned he came towards her, leaving Flo behind, staring after him.
    ‘What can I do for you, Cook?’ he slurred. ‘Not leaving already? I haven’t had a dance wi’ you yet.’
    ‘My dancing days are over,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you’d seen Ellen? I wanted a word