Читать книгу Ella’s Journey: The perfect wartime romance to fall in love with this summer - Lynne Francis - Страница 9

Mrs S was summoned to conduct Ella from the library to her room. Very little was said as they crossed the threshold through the green baize door and climbed the steep and narrow back stairs to the servants’ quarters, tucked away in the attics. Ella looked out of the windows as they crossed the half-landing on each floor to mount the next flight. The sky outside was darkening and, over the fields beyond the garden wall, lights were beginning to twinkle through a greying dusk. The rush to get everything ready for Christmas had resumed down below, but up here it was cold and quiet.

Mrs S broke the silence. ‘I’ve moved Doris out of the room. She can share with Rosa until it is decided what’s to be done.’

She pushed open the door to the room and Ella passed through, automatically heading for the window to gaze out.

‘You’d be as well to put your things together. I don’t think the master will be wanting to keep you after this.’ Mrs S sighed and closed the door. Ella, staring unseeing out of the window, heard the key click in the lock.

Her cheeks were hot with shame and indignation, her mind a jumble of words unsaid. The thought that floated to the top of this seething mass was the likelihood of the loss of her job. How would her mother manage without the money that Ella sent home to her? How could she begin to tell her what had happened?

Ella turned away from the window and sank onto the bed. Scenes from just a few minutes earlier began to play out in her head.

Mr Ward had been sitting at his desk, Mrs Ward silhouetted in the window, her back to the light so that Ella had found it difficult to read her expression. There was no mistaking Mr Ward’s mood, however. His brows were drawn together in a frown and his mouth pursed into a thin line.

‘Ella, we have reason to believe that you may have been involved in an act that has proved injurious to the health of one of our guests.’

Ella was puzzled, her mind racing to make sense of this turn of events. So it was nothing to do with her late return from town, or her family? This was something quite unexpected.

Mr Ward continued, ‘I see you do not deny it. You must have been aware of the potentially fatal consequences of your actions when you entered into this ridiculous pact with Grace. I would like you to go away and think very hard about your behaviour. I have already consulted Mrs Sugden about your character and, whilst she assures me that you have conducted yourself in an exemplary fashion whilst in our employment, I am not minded to be lenient in my view of this. You have run the risk of bringing my good name, and that of my family, into disrepute by your actions. You will go to your room, Ella, and think long and hard on this.’

He turned his attention back to papers on his desk, to signify the interview was at an end. Mrs Ward had not moved throughout Mr Ward’s speech but, as Ella turned to leave – stunned by what she had heard and unsure of how she might defend herself – she saw that Mrs Ward was gazing on her husband with an expression that was very hard to read.

On the silent walk to her room, Ella had struggled to piece the jigsaw together. Something had clearly happened that involved Grace, the youngest daughter of the household, and somehow Ella was taking the blame for it. With a sinking heart, she pictured the small bottle she had handed over to Grace earlier in the week. Stoppered by a cork and without benefit of a label, the pearly glass held a dark, mysterious liquid.

‘Shake it well,’ she’d whispered. ‘And mind, no more than two or three drops in his drink. Be sure to keep the bottle well hidden.’