"Do you like books Mary ?"
She was a few days shy of her fifteenth birthday, thin and gawky—traits she would never lose in womanhood—and now Madame Urquhart's son was addressing her. He had recently returned home after his first term at King's College, his blond curls desperately in need of a barber, or so Madame had teasingly informed him after her warm welcome. His cheeks had filled out since the last time she had seen him, and after some nights of restful sleep he didn't seem as tired or sallow as he had that first evening.
"Yes sir."
She had been polishing the filigreed silver when he entered the kitchen but his presence required her to cease and stand. Her hands were stained and she tried to hide them in the folds of her apron without seeming to be hiding anything at all. It was a simple, straightforward question but even so it surprised the young maid. She could hear the scullery girls whispering in the next room. He probably could as well.
"Come up to the library after dinner then. I've found one that may interest you."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."
He left and the giggling began in earnest. Mary shushed the younger servers once and returned to the cutlery, a blush spreading across her pale face. The sounds faded and she picked up a fork to resume her duties.
"Don't you four have potatoes to peel ?"