Servants Series 4

by ss9

Can Flora recover from the tragedies of series 3? How will Walter react and will Will be able to safely avoid the butler's wrath? And who is this glamourous Scottish beauty who is causing quite the stir amoungst the male members of staff?

7. Episode 6b

Even though it is the morning after the all important night before, rumours are spreading faster than Mr Kraus' clotted cream that the new Lady Dalrimple-Sykes may not have spent as much time alone in the company of her disgruntled husband the previous evening as may have been expected or, indeed, required. In fact, her lady's maid Annie, although obviously 'not one to gossip', had managed to pass her version of events around amongst the lower servants quite successfully. So much so that her little game of Chinese Whispers, by the time it reaches down to the sculleries, is more of an over-inflated tale of unrequited lust rather than the less than exciting truth.

Annie to a giggling George and Fred: 'ere, you didn't hear it from me but poor Julian didn't have as much as thirty seconds to get his leg over before she ran away screaming back to her old room. Lady Francesca had already given her some tips about how to please him and 'doin' her duty', all the good they did her!

George setting to work on the mountain of silver polishing thanks to the wedding: oh, yeah, I bet she LOVED that, advice from that big sourpuss, she's 25 going on 55 that woman!

Annie screwing up her face, annoyed with George's untimely interruption: Yeah well anyway, so she told her to prettify herself, y'know, bit of fake, perfume, then Lady Rebecca pipes up that she's heard that a nice red corset and black stockings can do the trick! You should've seen Lady Francesca's face, pistols at dawn, it was!

Fred perching on the table and cackling: I bet it was! HEARD that does the trick, my arse! She's up for it and no mistake!

Nobody notices Frank standing by the door, listening to every word. He doesn't give a flying monkey's about whether his boss had managed to sew the all-important Dalrimple-Sykes seed or not, but at the mention of Rebecca his interest is certainly piqued. Every bit of knowledge about her is of course important, but this kind of information, well, he might just have to go and hunt out the items in question to satisfy his own very heightened curiosity. With a smile to himself, he slinks away back into the corridor.

Annie leaning forward, grinning cheekily: So yes she then flounces off to her marital bed and I'm told to wait outside the door, but less than a quick fumble later she flings the door open, her corset half unhooked, and makes for her old room, shouting something about 'never, ever' and 'knows where he can stick his damned inheritance' and a strange line about getting the frog rather than the handsome prince.

Fred half-heartedly rubbing at a spoon: Oooh looks like Lady Caroline will be after a bit on the side before long, build up her appetite before having to tackle Julian again, if you get my meaning!

George sniggering and grinning: Yeah, and reckon it'll be you, do you mate? You wouldn't have much competition from upstairs, doesn't seem, except for dashing Laird Hugo and his airs and graces. He's got a nice bit of leg, would make a good footman!

Charlotte dumping another box of silver next to George: And as you boys always said, Mrs Diggins likes a good bit of leg, doesn't she?

Fred tapping George playfully on the arm: Didn't know you have a soft spot for Hugo, George mate! Think you'll find you missed the boat on that one, Lady Rebecca has him firmly in place from what I can see!

George shaking his fist in mock disappointment: Damn those women!

Annie smiling mockingly at Charlotte: 'ere, talking of dashing and all that, I've just seen your favourite tasty doctor come to check on Jennifer and Mr Adams, so you might want to run and catch him, maybe play with some of his pointy instruments or assist him with a thorough examination?

Charlotte reddening in shock as she backs towards the door: Don't know what you mean, and don't be so crude, Annie Taylor, saying things you know nothing about!

Annie winking at Fred who looks away and down at his 'highly interesting' fish knife: Oh, I know all about those kind of things, Charlotte my dear, trust me! Don't be embarrassed, even good Catholic girls like yourself are allowed a bit of romance, let yourself go! It may stop you being such a prude!

Charlotte opens her mouth to speak, but changes her mind, dashing from the room, without any intent on going to find the lovely doctor. Of course, if she so happened to bump into him outside Mr Adams' door, well, so be it!

Fred shaking his head and sighing: Aw, Annie, why don't you just leave her alone?

Annie brightening and almost skipping out out of the room: Nothing wrong with playing a bit of cupid, Mr Matkin!

The Lady's maid then peers from behind the door, a cheeky grin on her face as she tucks her wild dark curls behind her ear. She giggles and points seductively at Fred

Annie her voice low and sultry: I'll see YOU later!

George stops polishing and raises a curious eyebrow at Fred, who simply shrugs and rifles through his knives, ignoring his fellow footman's knowing grin and nudges for information until Fred slams a butter knife down in frustration, sighing

Fred flopping back into his chair: Look, it's nothing, ok? Bit of fun, you know how it is!

George smiling slyly: Yeah, whatever you say, mate. Annie Taylor, my, my!

Cut to Adams' room, where the under-butler is propped up in his bed. The doctor is listening to his heart through his stethoscope and tutting, shaking his head

Dr Evans pulling away and flicking it around his neck: Mr Adams, you're not resting are you, hm? Like I told you?

Adams roughly buttoning up his pyjama top: I AM bloody resting, doc, I've been stuck in this bed for what feels like all eternity, what more do you want?

Evans smiling dryly: I'm sure, but you need to calm your thoughts, the stress is still evident. Tell me, before your heart attack, had you been doing anything, well, out of the ordinary, something a little strenuous, perhaps? Physically, I mean? On and off continuously over time, as well as during that evening?

Adams frowns hard, shaking his head and pretending with all his might that he hadn't done anything that may have got his pulse racing and his temperature up during the previous weeks. Pursing his lips and scratching hs forehead he finally replies

Adams his tone a little too adamant: No sir, nothing I can think of. At all. Maybe a little light exercise, trying to watch my weight a bit, y'know.

Evans chuckling and packing his bag: Watching your weight, eh? Well best cure for that, cut down on Mr Kraus' fine cakes, although my mother loves his weekly recipies in the Telegraph. Also avoid too much butter on your toast. Exercise for a man in your condition may be your undoing, Mr Adams!

Adams trying to hide disappointment: Aye, doctor, you're right.

Evans stopping by the door and tapping his nose: Oh yes, and I'd cut down on those trips into town, if I were you. That kind of - ahem - exercise is the worst of all!

Before Adams can rebuke his claim of town visits, Evans winks at him and exists, leaving a bitterly downhearted under-butler to mull over his dire misfortune. The doctor, momentarily in his own thoughts, crashes straight into the maid standing right in front of him, a bundle of sheets in her arms. They fall from her grip and scatter about their feet, and she gives a little yelp. This isn't how it's supposed to happen, for goodness sake!

Evans fleetingly gaining eye contact with the blushing maid: Oh, I'm so very sorry, Miss Lewis! Let me help you!

Charlotte biting her lip and hurriedly bending down: I'm so sorry, Dr, my fault entirely, don't worry, I'll do it.

Evans crouching in front of her: Nonsense! It was me, not watching my step, head in the clouds as usual!

Charlotte giggling awkwardly: Oh I do that a lot, have my head in the clouds...

Her voice trails off, their eyes locking firmly, and for a long moment both can't tear away, the loose sheets half gathered up, their hands underneath them and out of sight. Gently Evans brushes her hand and Charlotte can't help but feel a surge of sin overwhelm her

Evans his voice slightly urgent as they both slowly stand, their gaze still fixed: Would you like to, er, go for a walk sometime? In town, around the green, if it's not too cold? We could feed the ducks, maybe, or...

Charlotte interrupting, with the same desperation: Yes. Yes please, I...I would love to, ducks are lovely, my favourite, although I wouldn't want to have one as a pet, we've had enough problems here with that kind of thing, pecking and suchlike...

Although the doctor is standing smiling gently at Charlotte, a mild look of amusement on his handsome face, she just cannot stop wittering on, her attraction to him increasing as she has for the first time chance to study him in more detail

Charlotte her eyes wondering over his features:...I tried to pick up a duck once, well it was more of a duckling really, although not quite as fluffy, I was only twelve, and it pecked my nose, I've a really small scar, if you look closely, but at the time there was blood everywhere, and, er, well...

She trails off again as the doctor leans in and examines her closely, reaching up and touching the side of her nose with one gentle stroke, causing her eyes to close at the sensation

Evans suddenly pulling away, shock in his voice: Oh, I'm sorry! That was rude of me.

Charlotte backing away slightly, her cheeks glowing in excitement as well as embarrassment: No, you're a doctor so these things must be fascinating to you.

Evans shoving his hands in his pockets, his bag between his feet: Question is, could you eat a whole one?

Charlotte blinking in confusion: A whole, er, what?

Evans chuckling in a surprisingly sexy and dashing fashion: A whole duck! I'm a dab hand at cooking, you know, I have a part time housekeeper but I cook all my own meals. Maybe, after feeding the ducks, you could come back to my place to eat one? I don't live anywhere fancy, just modest, but it's plenty for a single man of simple tastes. When is your day off?

Charlotte biting her lip again, her heart leaping: Er, next Tuesday as a matter of fact.

Evans picking up his case, his eyes twinkling like emeralds at her: Shall I pick you up at midday? If you want to, of course, I mean I wouldn't want to intrude...

Charlotte turning to leave, glancing and smiling broadly over her shoulder at her new interest: I look forward to it, Dr Evans.

But the rumours about Lady Caroline and her love life aren't the only ones to be flying around. Jarvis had been summoned to see the rather jovial Earl, and to Flora's annoyance she hadn't been invited, but the word among the halls of the servants quarters is that there might be another trip abroad approaching, this time for the Earl to reclaim his money in person. For one, he had let it be known that he didn't want any 'tom, dick or harry' handling his precious cash now it had been found, stashed away in one of Lord Fiffington-Piffles' trunks in India, so the only option would be for him to get it back himself, to prevent risk of any further embarrassment. Of course, any visit would not be able to take place until at least sometime in the New Year, but talk of travelling again delighted the more adventurous and made the sea-sick turn rather green in dread.

Jarvis is still in the meeting with the Earl, probably going through financial matters, Flora thought with distaste, which she as a little woman would of course have no understanding of. Best keep to her housekeeping figures, she mused with a loud tut, before turning her mind to thinking about whether she dared leave her office for fear (for want of a word) of bumping into William, quite literally if he is to have his way again. But just as she is trying to make sense of everything that had happened since her last fateful encounter with Walter, her head resting on her desk in despair, there is a light knock and Grace pops her head around the door, smiling at first until she sees just how exhausted Flora actually looks

Grace her brow furrowing: Er, Mrs Ryan, Lady Rebecca is asking after you, could you take her her elevenses, she asks.

Flora breathing in deeply and waving Grace away, her tone short and sharp: Yes, yes, I will be there in a moment, Grace. Make sure it's prepared, I don't have time to do it myself, and I don't want to be late for her.

Upstairs, Rebecca is standing staring at her fully-clothed reflection in the mirror, concentrating hard on her appearance. Tapping her bottom lip with her finger, she lets out a quiet 'hmmm', turning to the side and staring at her stomach, brushing her hand over it as though almost expecting to feel a bump already. Smiling softly to herself she begins to hum the Scottish ballad Andrew would often sing to her to soothe her (well, she didn't have the heart to tell him she would rather listen to a mangled cat than hear him attempt at a tune), the rather ironic 'My Love is like a Melody'. She is half way through the second verse, her sweet voice filling the room, when there is a tap at her door.

Clasping her hands in delight, she calls 'enter, Flora my dear!' Sure enough the housekeeper makes an entrance, carrying the usual tray of tea and lemon cake. Flora's weak and tired smile immediately causes Rebecca concern, ushering her to sit down and taking her hand in hers, waiting for an explanation. But none is forthcoming

Rebecca patting her hand, Flora staring down at her lap: Flora, what is it? You look very pale, and why so tired? Have you been up all night with Walter, you cheeky thing!

Flora shouting a little louder than she anticipated through her desperation: NO! No, I haven't, I……I'm just a little tired that's all, because of the wedding.

Rebecca pouring the tea due to Flora's apparent inability to function: Yes, you should be glad that wretched event is over. I saw Mr Jarvis before, he didn't look his best either. I saw him giving instructions to that William Wood, is it?

Flora Mouth dry and voice cracked, her eyes widening at the mention of her brief lover: Forest! It's William Forest!

Rebecca nodding and smiling: Ah yes,I knew it had something to do with trees………

Flora grabbing her arm and shaking it, her tea splashing into the saucer: What….what was he saying? Will….Mr Forest! Was Walter saying anything of interest to him? Did he look angry? Becca, tell me!

Rebecca shrugging as Flora's alarm increased: I'm not sure, I didn't really pay much attention, it seemed amicable enough, although Mr Jarvis did look a bit cross about something or another. Don't think it was particularly aimed at Mr Forest, though.

Flora jumping up and pacing, her arms wrapped around themselves: So nobody hit anyone, Walter didn't wrestle Mr Forest to the ground, or twist his arm behind his back and threaten to rip it or any other part of his anatomy off!

Rebecca confused but also slightly amused at this peculiar image: No, not that I saw anyway!

Flora slumping back down next to Rebecca, her hand placed firmly on her forehead: Well, thank the heavens for that.

Rebecca shifting slightly to face the housekeeper: Flora, I don't like to intrude, and I mean tell me to keep my well-to-do nose out if you like, but is there something wrong? Has Mr Forest done something he shouldn't have?

Flora sighs heavily, shaking her head and sniffing, her tired and wistful eyes full of sadness. She begins to sob, her entire body shaking, and Rebecca is so taken aback by this outpouring of emotion that all she can do is pull Flora towards her and soothe her. After a minute or so, Rebecca coaxingly tries to get Flora to talk to her, even cracking a joke about the uneaten cake and how Flora shouldn't normally have her cake and eat it, but this time she should make an exception. This only causes the heartbroken housekeeper to wail even louder, until she eventually, builds up the energy and courage to tell the one person who she knew could understand

Flora spills her heart out as Rebecca sits and listens in stunned silence, telling her everything from the meal, to the letter, her dying friend, then being found by Will, encouraging him to touch her, to take her. After finishing, she can hardly look her friend in the face, she is sure she is going to tell her she is a disappointment, and if her and Walter couldn't make it work, then how on earth could her and Andrew. But, instead, Rebecca frowns thoughtfully before speaking

Rebecca breathing deeply: So have you answered all the important questions?

Flora staring through tear-stained and bloodshot eyes: I...I don't know, I can't think straight, I don't even know what I'm feeling, let alone being able to answer questions!

Rebecca her voice rather stern and business-like: Well, you must. Do you love him?

Flora raising her eyebrows and mopping her eyes: Who, Walter? Yes, I'm sure I still do, but I don't know if I can forgive him.

Rebecca laughing gently: I actually meant Mr Forest, do you love him?

Flora staring at the ceiling, the shame overwhelming her: No, I don't love him, I don't think anyway, he was just there at the wrong time...

Rebecca with a wry smile: Or the right time, whichever way you look at it!

Flora sipping her tea and clattering her cup back into its saucer: It's not a joking matter, Rebecca! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I….I just needed comforting, some affection, and Will was there for me. For a short while, he set me free, physically and mentally, it reminded me of how it was in the beginning with Walter, the passion, the lust.

Rebecca nudging her, staring at her pitifully: And the feeling of love?

Flora shrugging and closing her eyes, her eyelids weary from tears and tiredness: No, that's where it was different. No love, just lust. I mean I'm very fond of him, but I think it may have meant more to him than it did to me, I just don't know, Rebecca. He even joked about having children!

Rebecca snatching back Flora's hand and squeezing it firmly: Flora, you MUST tell him it was only a one night thing. It was, wasn't it?

Flora quietly, not knowing whether to believe herself or not: Yes. I think?

Rebecca leaning further towards her, forcing her to look her in the eye so she can get her message through: You have to decide, you can't just pretend it didn't happen, he might be in love with you, and if you don't tell him where he stands he may think he can take Walter's place. Is that what you want?

Flora the tears welling up again and rolling down her pale cheeks: No, it's not. He's a nice sweet boy, but he can never take Walter's place. For all his faults, after everything he's done, thinking he can control me, telling me how I feel and think when he doesn't have a clue, I still love him. I sometimes wonder why, but I can't change it, and it would never change, no matter how many times I'm unfaithful.

Rebecca drawing the housekeeper into another hug: Don't you think you two have cancelled out each other's actions now?

Flora: Maybe, but I don't know I can look him in the face again without thinking of Will, and now I can't trust myself as well as him. Oh, Rebecca, what am I to do!

Rebecca cradling her head and rocking her gently: Talk to both of them, talk to Walter before you let everything ruin your lives. He loves you so much, it's obvious to everyone. His eyes light up when you come into the room, he smiles at you in a way he doesn't smile at anybody else. Of course he has his faults, Flora, he's a man! But it doesn't mean he doesn't care for you, he needs you, and you need him. Just talk to him.

Flora nods sadly, her mind spinning, the feel of Will still fresh in her mind and on her skin. It takes her a moment to realise that Rebecca has changed the subject, but the mention of Frank jolts her out of her daydream

Flora blinking, sitting up and shaking her head: Frank? Wants to act as a go-between!

Rebecca her eyes brightening: Yes, he seems quite friendly, don't you think?

Flora her eyes widening. Finally, this is something she most definitely has a firm view on: Certainly not! He's a trouble-maker, that Keneally, and no mistake! He's up to something if he's offered that, don't trust him an inch. And whatever he's up to, it won't be good! My advice is stay away from him, and if I'm to take yours then you should take mine!

Rebecca ponders this for a moment, until she smiles slyly to herself before turning to Flora, who is preparing to leave with the tray due to the lateness of the hour. Just as Flora thanks her for her advice, Rebecca hesitates for a moment

Rebecca turning a little pink, smiling bashfully: Flora, so was it good? To feel what it's like with someone different?

Flora returning the smile, her cheeks reddening: Yes, it was. Completely. To do it just once is enough. But don't be getting ideas, stay away from Frank!

Rebecca dismissing her comment with a wave of the hand: Oh, I will, I will. But, one more question, while you were with Will, did you at any point close your eyes and think of him as Walter, even though Will was a whole fresh experience?

Flora pausing before nodding slowly: In a way, I suppose I did, at some point. I'm not sure.

Rebecca her voice low and profound: Well, if you did, then I think Flora my dear you may be closer to answering your doubts than you think.

Flora, without a word, holds eye contact with Rebecca for a moment before smiling and exiting

Meanwhile downstairs two very different men are both on a very similar quest, both of which start with finding the housekeeper. Felix Kraus was once more holding court in his kitchen, surveying with satisfaction as his maids scurried around him, each intent on completing their tasks. However despite apparently watching his staff like hawks Felix's thoughts were far from the kitchen. He had a sixth sense about those two, something had gone horridly wrong, this morning when neither had appeared for breakfast he had mistakenly thought it was because they were otherwise occupied. After all he had helped Emily prepare their cold supper, not that Walter knew that of course, the butler was still doing his best to ignore him at every possibility a fact which pained Felix greatly as they had been friends for so many years.

Shaking his head sadly Felix realised there was little he could do about that situation, however he was going to be damned if he didn't find out what had gone wrong, he had caught a glimpse of Walter heading up to see the Earl that morning with a look of thunder on his face that could only mean they'd had another fight. He'd spent the morning trying to both cook lunch and dash about to find Flora, however when he'd finally heard she had arrived in her office and went along to find her he discovered she had already left to go take Lady Rebecca her elevenses. Pacing around his kitchen like a caged tiger, he turned suddenly and barking instructions at Mr Simpkins not to meddle with his menu whilst he was gone he stormed off to find either Flora or Walter and find out what the hell was going on.

Meanwhile the Butler was himself on a similar search, having been closeted with the Earl all morning taking down copious notes about their upcoming trip, he had now finally been released and could finally get round to the one thing that was on his mind, finding Flora. Storming down the corridors, servants flung themselves against the walls and into open doorways just to get out of his path, until finally he reached her office. Flinging the door open he stepped inside, expecting to see a livid Flora staring up at him from behind her desk, but instead the room was empty, she wasn't here. Running his hands through his hair in despair, Jarvis paced the room, where was she? How could he make amends if he couldn't even find her? Throwing himself down in her fireside chair, he stared glumly into the fire.

All morning it had taken him to come up with this plan, all the time he was supposed to be planning the trip to India with the Earl he had in fact been desperately searching for a way he could show Flora he was sorry, he knew the usual wouldn't work, nor would an apology but he had to do something soon before she did something drastic. Her words from the night before still echoed in his mind, "maybe I'll take your advice and go live a little." He doubted she had any idea how those words had haunted his dreams, the very thought of her with someone else, loving another, it made him sick to his stomach. Well at least he'd been able to corner that little snot Forest earlier, carefully quizzing him about his whereabouts and then double checking his story with George Cosmo who had fortunately confirmed they had been playing cards all night. But that still didn't mean Forest wouldn't try and take advantage of the situation, so he had to get in first.

As he figured it, Flora was angry with him for one main reason that he had tried to control her. He knew she would never accept his reasons for doing so, that he was doing it for her own good, she was so stubborn and independent that she had to feel she was the one in control of her own decisions. So the only way he could convince her to trust him again, was for him to make the first step and trust her. Putting his hand into his pocket he drew out the envelope contained within, tracing his fingers along his crisp penmanship, caressing her name lovingly. It would break his heart to let her go, but he knew if they were going to stand a chance of surviving this, then she needed space and would have to decide to return to him of her own volition. Besides she had always wanted to travel, and the amount he had made out to her would ensure she could do so whilst indulging a few little flippancies that would make the whole experience that much more exciting. He had already posted his letter to Mrs Harrison explaining the misunderstanding, he just hoped for all their sakes she had not departed for the continent already.

However the butler's private musing was suddenly interrupted when the office door was flung open, but as Jarvis jumped to his feet he realised with disappointment the visitor wasn't Flora but Felix.

"What do you want?" Jarvis growled at the chef.

"I was looking for Flora!" Felix replied, slightly more tersely than he had intended.

"Well as you can see Mr Kraus she isn't here, so why don't you keep your unwelcome foreign nose out of our private affairs." Jarvis retorted, his tone angry but his eyes sad.

"Oh it's like that is it…" Kraus began but Jarvis cut him off.

"Well I hardly thing you're someone who is in a position to offer advice about the fairer sex, do you Mr Kraus, I mean considering your preferences!" Jarvis added a sneer, distorting his handsome features.

Felix looked him intently in the eye, before smiling broadly and turning towards the door.

"What the hell was that about?" Jarvis bellowed seizing Felix by the elbow and turning him round to face him. "Is there something about this whole situation you happen to find amusing Mr Kraus?"

"You!" Felix retorted. "You have the nerve to question my ability to continue a successful relationship, yet if we examine your own track record…My my Walter it is far from being anything resembling a bed of roses!" And with that he turned and left intent on finding Emily and discussing with her what they should do next; leaving a shaken and angry Butler in his wake.

As Flora made her way back from seeing Rebecca her friend's words echoed through her mind. Yes she was sure she loved Walter, and whatever she felt for Will paled by comparison, but she wasn't she if she could ever believe a word he said ever again. She was so preoccupied with these thoughts that she barely noticed when she knocked over the teapot on the tray she was carrying, it was only when the remainder of the tea splashed over the edge and on to her nice clean apron that she was jarred from her thoughts. Huffing slightly in annoyance she thrust the tray into the hands of a passing maid, ignoring the confused and puzzled look on her face before turning and storming up to her room to get a clean apron, and thus missing only by seconds the chef's sudden and stormy departure from her office.

Ten minutes later after she had left her room, a nice new apron fastened about her small waist she headed towards the back staircase intent on returning to her office and make a start on those advertisements for new maids. However just as she began to descend two voice floated up the stairwell, as they made their way up to the next floor, her floor.

"Look I've already told you I don't know what happened, Walter and I are hardly the best of friends these days."

"Yes, Yes I know Felix, and if he won't tell us then we'll have to get it out of Flora." Emily replied.

"Don't be too hard on her…" Felix started.

"Felix I'm shocked." Emily retorted. "As if I would, I'll just ask politely but firmly what on earth my Walter could have possibly done this time? It's only if she refuses to answer that the thumb screws and emotional blackmail will be used!"

Panicking and realising the last thing she needed now was a confrontation with the self appointed Taplow's mafia, Flora whirled around sharply, she didn't have much time, any second and they would reach the corner in the stair and see her. Dashing down the corridor Flora stopped at the first door available to her, rattling the handle she realised it was locked, glancing back over her shoulder she could hear the voices getting closer and closer so she pulled out her key chain and selecting her master key, jammed it into the lock forcing the door to open, and closing it quickly behind her.

Leaning back against the door, her eyes closed Flora finally let out the breath she had been holding, turning slightly she leant her ear against the cold wood, intent on listening in on the conversation between the chef and Walter's mother. She was concentrating so hard, straining her hearing that she did not hear the quiet splash of water or the sound of wet feet on cold stone, it was only when a pair of wet hands slipped round her waist and twisted her towards the owner that she realised she was not alone; her gasp of shock cut off as his lips captured hers.

Panicking as she finally realised where she was and who was kissing her, Flora grasped Will's shoulders and tried to push him away but the water from his bath meant her hands kept slipping over his skin and she was unable to get a firm grip. Finally Will relinquished her lips and smiling cheekily at her, whispered softly in her ear. "My My Mrs Ryan, missing me already?"

"Will please it's not like that…" Flora began, trying desperately to restrain his wandering hands as they began to unfasten her dress.

"Really?" Will chuckled. "So is this a habit of yours barging into the men's bathroom, randomly throughout the day even when it's locked?"

"No!" Flora exclaimed. "I was trying to avoid Felix and Emily and this was the closest door."

"A likely story!" Will retorted leaning in and kissing his way down her neck.

"Listen for yourself if you don't believe me!" Flora replied.

Raising an eyebrow the footman moved away from her slightly and listened against the door as he had seen her doing, enabling Flora to realise for the first time how barely he was attired, with only a towel tucked about his waist. Blushing slightly as he caught her staring at the way the water dripped down his skin and puddled at his feet, she looked away. "Well have they gone yet, what are they saying?" She whispered to Will.

"They're arguing, it seems Emily is convinced you've locked yourself in your room and are ignoring all their knocks and pleas in the hope they will be convinced you're not there and will go away, so she's demanding they wait it out!"

"Oh No!" Flora gasped realising the implications that would have. "They can't be serious?"

"Well that would have its advantages!" Will replied once more approaching the housekeeper, who gradually backed away from him and further into the room, each time maintaining the distance between them.

"Will please, this is hardly the place!" She added trying to placate the amorous footman.

"Hmmmmmmm so you prefer the stables to here? " Will asked a mischievous twinkle in his eye, as he carefully manoeuvred the housekeeper towards his goal.

"It's the middle of the day, talking of which why are you here, shouldn't you be working?" Flora asked puzzled.

Will grimaced slightly and stopped in his tracks. "I was working but Mr Jarvis pulled me aside earlier, quizzing me about what I got up to last night…Don't worry I'd already thought of that and I got George to cover for me, saying I'd been playing him at cards all night!" He added when he saw her panicked expression.

"But even so that wasn't enough for him, so in order to keep me out of mischief he had me take all the doggies for a walk and the little blighters decided to race down the hill, so I ended up sliding down half of it caked in mud. I'm having to miss me dinner just to get all cleaned up. So personally I think I deserve a little bonus, don't you?" He asked dashing forward causing Flora to leap backwards and fall into his bath.

Panicking the housekeeper shrieked at the cold water, splashing about in the tub and only succeeding in getting herself even wetter than before. Giggling at her predicament Will lent forward and being the gentleman he was assisted the now sopping housekeeper out of the bath.

"Damn you Will that's not funny!" Flora began but her rant was cut off when there was a sharp knock and a voice boomed through the door.

"What on earth is going on in there?" Emily's shrill voice demanded.

For a moment Will and Flora looked at each other in bewilderment, before Will ushered her towards the cupboard in the corner and helped her squeeze in before himself striding over to the door and flinging it wide open, and glaring affronted at both Felix and Emily.

"Yes can I help you?" He asked in his most aggrieved voice.

"We….We heard a noise!" Felix began. "It sounded like a woman screaming!" Emily cut in, glaring at the young footman in a manner very similar to that of her son's.

"Well as you can see," Will replied, pushing the door open wide and revealing both the room and his state of undress to the pair, "There is no one here accept myself!"

Stammering and embarrassed both Felix and Emily turned hurried back down the corridor, leaving Will to slam the door shut an help a relieved Flora out from her hiding place.

Dripping wet the housekeeper tried to brush the water out of her silk dress, however try all she liked she couldn't hide the darker splodges on her dress, which was typical she thought, the one day she decides not to wear a dark colour and this happens. Distracted Flora gratefully accepted the towel Will passed her, and began to work vigorously on drying her dress, that was of course until she realised where the towel had come from. Glancing upwards she locked her eyes on his raised eyebrow and cheeky grin.

"I'm not going to change my mind Will!" She replied in a slightly higher tone than was normal.

Pouting slightly Will seized her hand and drew it up to his lips, where he chastely kissed each of her knuckles in turn, his eyes never leaving hers for a second. "Are you sure? Not even for me?"

"Not even for you!" Flora replied throwing the towel at the smirking footman and storming over to the door.

"Isn't it possible to come to some arrangement? One that would suit both our needs?" Will asked sincerely. "I know you're having second thoughts about last night Flora I can see it in your eyes."

Whirling round the housekeeper faced him and taking a deep breath. "I am…I don't love you Will…And nothing you say or do is going to change that! But that doesn't mean I don't care about what happens to you, I don't want to hurt you, that's why this has to stop now!"

"Why does it have to stop?" Will began but Flora cut him off.

"Because I can't let you take Walter's place!" Flora retorted. "I don't know what I'm going to do about my relationship with Walter, but until I do I can't have any emotional complications. Last night was wonderful you set me free in so many ways, please don't try and chain me now!" Flora added her tone pleading.

Nodding slowly Will walked over to her, and taking her hands in his squeezed them softly. "What if it wasn't emotional, what if we kept it just as a bit of fun, something to make the day go by a little faster, and if at the end you decide to go back to him, I would understand…"

"Do you love me Will?" Flora asked, trying to get him to look her in the eye.

"Well I…" He began unable to meet her gaze.

"Do you?" She asked softly seizing his chin and forcing him to look her straight in the eye.

"No!" He replied, but his eyes flinched at the word and she knew he was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

"Liar!" Flora replied, brushing her hand softly down the side of his face.

"You see I've already hurt you, and tempting as your offer is Will, I couldn't let myself be that selfish, I'd just be taking from you and giving nothing in return."

"But I don't mind.." Will began, before she placed her fingers across his lips silencing him.

"You would, eventually you would, and then you'd hate me for it, trust me its better this way." She added before turning the key in the lock, only pausing when Will laid a hand on her shoulder.

"May I?" He asked cautiously, "One last time?" He added leaning to kiss her softly, before gathering her into his arms and kissing her passionately only letting her go with great reluctance.

Shaking his head Will wrapped his arms across his naked chest feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable then just as she was opening the door he called out to her. "If you ever change your mind?"

"I'll know who to ask!" She replied before turning to walk out into the corridor, only to stop dead in the doorway. "Mr Cosmo!"

"Mrs Ryan!" George retorted his eyes taking in in one glance the dishevelled flushed housekeeper and the semi-naked footman, and automatically drawing his own conclusions.

"Yes well…"The housekeeper stalled. "I'll be on my way, I'm sure you two have work to do!" She added before storming off down the corridor leaving the two footmen to gaze after her.

"You alright Will?" George asked taking in his friends pained expression.

Will simply shrugged his shoulders, before slamming the door shut in his friends face, and as George paused for a moment outside the door he could has sworn he heard his friend start to cry.

Rebecca is very glad to get back to her room, for a little while at least. Exhausted after putting the first part of her plan into action, she slumps down in front of her toilet and gathers what she needs from her drawers and cupboards to make it as realistic as possible. Dinner had been a complete disaster due to the one-woman nightmare that is Lady Caroline, bawling her unreasonable orders at the servants and almost making Charlotte cry. So rather than keeping her friend company, Rebecca had escaped as soon as possible, paying Andrew a brief visit for a short chat and a quick fumble, completely disobeying doctors orders. She had told Andrew that she loves him, and although she couldn't visit him for a while everything will be alright and not to worry about a thing, just to concentrate on getting better.

Staring hard into her mirror, Lady Rebecca dabs a tissue in a bowl of water and adds the finishing touches to the smudges down her cheeks, her eyes red from furious rubbing. Letting down her hair, she roughly runs her fingers through it, but not quite satisfied with the outcome, she climbs onto her bed and rolls around frantically, pressing her head into her pillow. Yes, that ought to do it, she thinks, but now for the most important bit. Rifling through her wardrobe, slightly perturbed at the new arrangement Lizzie had given her dresses, she eventually comes across the exact one she is looking for, and fortunately it is one she is able to fasten herself due to the catches and ribbon at the front. Giggling to herself, Rebecca remembers how she bought it when she was feeling a little naughty in Paris, obtained during the same shopping spree as the red corset, no less. She has still yet to wear this risque 'little' number (with three layers not counting petticoats) for Andrew, but while she can still fit into it she decides that this will be the perfect opportunity for its debut. Oh, yes. Slipping it on, she quickly fastens and laces part way up, until she stops, smiling to herself, just across her bust. Unfastening her white lacy corset so it meets with the revealing last joined clasp, she makes certain one sleeve of the dress is pushed off her shoulder and further down her arm than the other. Rebecca no longer looks the figure of respectability, but instead as if she has been sobbing for hours, completely unaware and unashamed of her appearance, not least her uncovered assets and sexual allure. With a final splash of perfume on her neck and cleavage, and a quick but precise application of blood-red lipstick for that voluptuous pout, everything is set.

It had all been too easy, finding him out riding with Lord Julian and asking him quietly, with a wink, to come and find her in an hour after a non-existent liaison with Andrew. But sure enough, Frank taps lightly on her door an hour to the minute after she had found him, eager to see her and begin earning his money. Or so he hopes.

It hadn't, of course, taken Rebecca long to work out that her nasty, interfering sister must have something to do with Frank's sudden interest. Also, however, she knows Franny isn't as clever as she thinks she is, so if she has decided to use Frank and his obvious desire for her sister to get what she wants, then two can most definitely play at that game. Throwing herself onto her bed face down, making sure her dress and petticoats are lifted so her right leg is exposed up to the knee, she begins to 'sob' loudly, calling tearfully for her visitor to enter.

Frank dashes into her room, closing the door quietly behind him, but the smirk is wiped swiftly from his face when he sees Lady Rebecca crying her heart out onto her white sheets. No, no, curses Frank to himself, this isn't how it is supposed to be! Although, maybe, any vulnerability she has could be worked to his benefit, most definitely.

Frank moving slowly over to the bed, unsure if Rebecca had actually heard him enter through her tears: My Lady, you are upset!

Rebecca sniffing and sitting up slightly to face him: Oh Mr Keneally - Frank - I am so pleased you are here! Andrew and I...oh, it is so awful! I have just been to see him and...oh...!

Dabbing a handkerchief under her blackened eyes, she lets out a loud wail, but instead of falling back onto her bed she leans forward as the valet reaches the foot of her bed, noticing quickly and to his delight her state of undress and the uncovered swell of her cleavage. The poor, silly, attractive woman, he muses, she has no idea how she looks, all that flesh on show. If she carries on like this she will be the prize notch on the Keneally bedpost sooner than he had anticipated.

Frank feigning concern through his silent pleasure at the sign of trouble: Lady Farquarson, you can tell me, as I've said before, I'll do anything to help you, and to help my good friend Mr Adams.

Rebecca daintily dabs her nose and slides to the edge of the bed so her legs dangle off it, leaning back onto her elbows and naturally pushing her chest up and outwards.

Rebecca her voice shaky and weak: Andrew and I have just had the most beastly argument, he has told me he no longer cares for me, the brute, but I still love him, Mr Keneally! And I'm sure he still loves me even after his cruel words, I just need you to ask him for me, and as you were so kind to offer!

Rebecca knows full well he is unlikely to do as she asks, and is probably going to tell Franny instead, so if she can convince her through Frank that it's over then maybe her and her beloved can carry on in secret. And if she can be seen to be vulnerable to Frank, then even better. Any impression she can give that she is attracted to him, no matter how subtle or not, she hopes will be enough to throw him and Franny off the scent. But although she had told herself that she will never do anything with him because she loves Adams and despises Frank for conspiring with her sister, she can't help but feel the excitement of the overwhelming sexual power she has over him. She feels she can twist him any way she wants just by flashing him a little bit of leg, but the consequences of his lust for her coupled with her prolonged teasing haven't really entered her thoughts. Well for all Flora had said he seems fairly harmless, if a little enthusiastic in his appreciation of beautiful women. Surely this isn't too much of a dangerous game for her to be playing?

Frank leaning on her bedpost, his eyes fixed only on her as they roam hungrily: Of course, I'm sure he still loves you, but I will speak to him for you and report back, M'Lady.

Franny reaching out and touching his hand, her saddened eyes sparkling with tears: Oh, you are such a gentleman, Mr Keneally, however will I repay you? I have little money to give as I only receive a small allowance, but if there is anything I can do, I just love Andrew so much!

Frank can hardly resist a sly smile spreading across his lips at his own private joke - of course there is something you can do M'Lady, lie back and think of England

Frank shaking his head as sincerely as he can muster: Oh no, Lady Rebecca, I wouldn't hear of it!

Yes, because it's not as if he is going to go near Andrew Adams with this little gem. Let the foolish Scot think what he likes, yes this is exactly what Frank Keneally needs - nobody, especially Lady Francesca, is going to be the boss of him in this game of life, so why should she or her naive sister know he is running his own agenda? The pieces of his plan to win Lady Rebecca for himself, willingly on her part or not, are finally falling into place, and that pleases him no end

Rebecca smiling meekly: Well, if you are sure, thank you. I can't risk seeing him right now, my sister Francesca watches my every move, it's simply ghastly!

To Rebecca's dismay, the valet can only muster a soft smile in return, almost as if he has little or no interest in the line she is feeding him. He appears to be in a kind of daydream, his eyes glazed over and paying her no attention whatsoever. Maybe if she had known the thoughts and images of her playing in his over-active imagination she wouldn't have carried out her next move to regain his interest, but would instead have sent him from her room in disgust.

Rebecca sliding further off the bed, her dress straps trailing about her elbows: Mr Keneally, would you mind awfully untying my shoes? I fear I should change before facing the world again.

Frank, keeping his cool and trying desperately to suppress any further amorous thoughts, nods and kneels down. No Lady had ever asked him, a male valet, to remove their shoes for them before, the saucy little minx! Bringing her dress up slightly, then a little further still until Frank is sure he has just seen a flash of the lacy top of her stocking, he carefully and silently works the lace of her left shoe, Rebecca's eyes fixed firmly on his face. Removing it with ease, she wiggles her toes as he quickly turns his attention to her right foot, but then something unexpected happens. Pulling off her shoe, without glancing up he begins to massage her foot gently, running his fingers over her toes and her sole, the sensation causing her to flinch as they travel in little circles around her ankle and down over her heel. Realising exactly where Mr Keneally could be intending to take this outrageous intrusion, Rebecca, after a momentary lapse of weakness as his hand slides itself slowly up her calf, thinks quickly about what to do next without scaring him off completely

Rebecca snorting loudly, jerking herself away from him and sobbing: Oh, Andrew used to rub my feet like that, oh how I miss him! I'm sorry Mr Keneally, you must think me a foolish woman, and I suppose I am, I feel so vulnerable, so...unloved!

Frank lets go of her leg, no this isn't the right time for this, but the sight of her body so close to him had once again gotten the better of him. Closing his eyes and sighing, Frank raises to his feet, licking his lips and leaning in slightly. His mouth curls into a reassuring smile, and giving her the once over, their eyes locking uncomfortably before he leaves her bedside and exits, vowing to return soon with news of Adams. Rebecca, flopping back onto her bed, is left feeling a little uncomfortable, but never-the-less utterly pleased with herself.

The next morning the footmen were gathered in the courtyard brushing down the Earl's collection of hunting pink jackets. George was laughing loudly whilst Fred gestured wildly as he re-enacted for the assembled group his pursuits with the lovely Miss Taylor the night before, which bizarrely enough had involved a now infamous blue garter and a certain peacock that had become suddenly jealous of anyone who came too near to its favourite footman.

"Yes so after we'd managed to shut the damn thing in a stall Annie said, Oh Fred how about we move to the pastry, I mean it is warmer and I doubt we'd be accosted by any large birds in there. But I told her, well that depends; I mean if Kraus has left any of his cherry pies on the side we might get attacked by Mrs Diggins on one of her nightly raids."

"And were you?" Joseph asked.

"Not Mrs Diggins no, but we did have a close run in with Jarvis's mother, she was sneaking about in the kitchen so we had to squeeze the both of us into the pantry and we were stuck in there for ages, I'm telling you that's the closest I ever want to be acquainted with fish, don't think I can ever stomach the stuff again!"

However as the footmen all burst out laughing, all except Will who was still strangely quiet, they were suddenly interrupted by a delicate cough, and ducking their heads under the washing lines they all stared at the newcomer, Fred's mouth dropping open in astonishment.

In front of them stood the most delicate looking creature they had ever seen, she was tiny in stature, barely reaching five feet, her pale face framed by blond ringlets and her grey eyes wide and nervous.

"Er can we help you Miss?" Joseph asked.

"Err Yes, ow do you say….I am wanting a Monsieur Jarrviss, he is the Major-domo ici, n'est pas?"

"Urghhhhh" Joseph began looking desperately between his fellow servants hoping one of them would show a glimmer of understanding. "Mr Jarvis?" He asked, relieved when the French mademoiselle in front of him began to smile and nod, passing him her luggage one by one.

"Follow me please!" Joseph added as he struggled to pick up all of her luggage and lead her inside to the butler's office studiously ignoring the guffaws and sniggers of his fellow servants as he tottered precariously from side to side, trying not to drop one of the many hatboxes she had piled into his already laden arms.

"Now that's a bit of alright!" Fred added when the pair were out of earshot, "And French to boot! We all know what they say about the French…" He trailed off nudging Will in the stomach with his elbow, and raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"Well at least Mr Jarvis speaks the lingo!" George piped up. "She'll have someone to talk to."

"She can whisper sweet nothings in my ear any time, I don't need to understand what she's saying!" Fred snorted, before turning to glare at Will who was the only footman not laughing. "Of course if you want first dibs mate, I mean we all know how you like the older woman…"

"Oh shut it Matkin!" Will snapped, glaring at his friend with such hatred that it caused Fred to stop laughing and take a step backwards.

"Alright, Alright, Willy boy I was only joking, no need to get all Prince Albert on me!" Fred replied hastily before returning to his work, and vowing there and then to give the subject of Will's love life a wide birth from now on.

Meanwhile the butler was safely ensconced in his office, enjoying for the time being a rare moment of peace and quiet. Flora was still avoiding him; he hadn't been able to get her alone for a second, the only time he had even seen her since their argument had been over meals and on the rare occasion they had passed each other in the corridors. Sighing deeply to himself he had finally realised that this time it might really be over between them, soon he would be on the other side of the globe and the likelihood of them healing their differences before he went was remote at best; it would probably require some sort of catastrophe to make her change her mind, and he was fresh out of ideas. Fingering the letter which still lay in his inside pocket he realised he had to at least try to get her alone even if that meant barging into her bedroom against her wishes and tying her to her chair so she had no choice but to hear him out.

However these musings were rudely interrupted when Joseph practically fell through the butler's door a whole pile of hat boxes and cases descending as rapidly as the footman, who ended up laying panting on the Butler's floor trying to rub life back into his aching arms.

"Mr James!" Jarvis bellowed, jumping out of his seat in shock, walking over to the footman and hauling him up off his floor by his collar of his livery.

"Excusse me, it izzzz not the juene homme's fault, 'e was just trying to 'elp moi." Bridgette piped up from the doorway, causing Jarvis to turn around in surprise.

"Mademoiselle Dubois?" Jarvis asked, and Bridgette nodded furiously her blonde curls bouncing up and down. "We weren't expecting you so soon…Lord Julian, well he didn't indicate you would be arriving forthwith…" He added quickly, stopping when he saw the confused and almost tearful look on the tiny lady's face.

"Vous comprenez q'est ca c'est j'ai dit?" He asked in French, causing Bridgette's face to light up in relief and Joseph to raise an eyebrow as this new skill of the butler's was revealed.

"Je regrette, mais m'anglais ce n'est pas bien, et c'est tres difficile pour moi quand personnes parlez vite." Bridgette replied, her pale face brightening as her cheeks flushed pink, the floodgates finally open after so many days of speaking in stuttered English and she continued to babble on in French, about how awful the trip had been. Apparently outside of London no one seemed to understand her, and she'd had a terribly miserable time trying to get to Taplows, and oh she was so relieved that at least one person here spoke French, she was so dreading it if no one did.

All the while Joseph stood next to the butler watching as Jarvis took in everything the dear lady was saying and nodded in understanding, whilst he had no idea, she could have been commenting on anything from the weather to the furnishing of the room for all he knew.

"Urgh Sir…" Joseph began when Bridgette finally paused to draw breath.

"Yes be about your business Mr James, but first take this luggage up to the lady's room, it's the one to the left of Mrs Ryan's."

"Very good Sir." Joseph replied somehow scooping up the assortment of baggage before staggering towards the door.

"Oh and Mr James!" Jarvis called out causing the footman to pause precariously in the threshold. "When you're done would you be so kind as to ask Mrs Ryan to prepare tea for an impromptu staff meeting, oh and inform Mrs Diggins as well will you, she'll want to be here!"

"Yes Mr Jarvis." Joe replied his voice emerging muffled from behind the pile of hat boxes, before he turned and left the chattering pair to it, determined that as soon as he was out of sight he'd dump the damn things and collar Johnny to take them up the three flights of stairs instead.

Sighing, exhausted, Grace makes her way down the corridor to the maid's quarters for some well earned sleep, wiping her hands on her apron as she goes. Not that jam making was as bad as shovelling coal at six o'clock in the morning, but nevertheless it still required rather a bit of energy to keep up with Mrs Ryan's demands and high standards of preserve. She muses briefly over her relationship with George – it had been going so well for so long now that she is sure something awful should befall them soon, surely it couldn't go on so blissfully forever? Since Mrs Ryan and Mr Jarvis had got together, Grace had had an idyllic image of her and George staying together for years, not necessarily at Taplows but certainly at one of the big country houses, and ending up as housekeeper and Butler respectively. Maybe, eventually, they would marry? Frank hadn't troubled her for a while, he suddenly seemed a little preoccupied with something – or someone – else, but she couldn't really care less who or what it is.

All of a sudden Grace is shaken out of her thoughts on hearing voices following her down the corridor, and turning to look over her shoulder in the direction of laughter and animated chatter she sees Joe and Charlotte approaching.

Grace wrinkling her nose, stopping in front of them and jesting: Quiet, you two, keep your voices down, it's very late you know! You don't want Mr Jarvis catching you making a racket!

Joe winking and nudging Charlotte forcefully: Nah, I think good old Mr J is fine, left him talking to the new maid, and bit of a looker she is, too!

Grace tucking loose strands of uncombed hair behind her ears and raising her eyebrows: Oh yeah, new maid? What's all this about?

Charlotte tutting and leaning against the wall: Oh keep up with the times, Gracie, can't believe you've not heard! She's French, some say Lord Julian's hired her as a 'present' for Lady Caroline, to give her a few tips in the art of love. She's a new lady's maid, you should've seen Annie's face, she was mad! Now she has to job share and go pro rata! Says she's going to look for another position….Joe stop sniggering, not that sort of position!

Joe chewing a tooth pick and grinning: Well you'd think that bonnie Annie would be able to teach Her Ladyship a thing or two, wouldn't you, from what Fred tells me!

Charlotte shooting Grace a frustrated glance: ANYWAY, she can't speak a word of English…….

Joe lowering his voice, sniggering and wagging his finger: Even still, don't go mentioning the war, you two, she may get offended!

Both maids shake their heads in confusion, but then Grace smiles and begins to chuckle as it dawns on her, much to Charlotte's dismay.

Grace: Ah indeed, October 1805 must never be mentioned! Poor girl! Oh Charlotte, keep up with the times! Trafalgar, we mean! Oh I hope Lord Dalrimple-Sykes doesn't get near her, he'll probably want to fire her out of the nearest cannon, I'm sure he's old enough to have fought at it, he must be at least 70!

Joe: Well I for one can't wait to see how she's going to coach that little madam upstairs! That's if Jarvis doesn't get there first!

Joe grabs Charlotte unexpectedly around the waist and pulls her in, causing her to yelp as he rubs her arms and squeezes her bottom, laughing at Charlotte's discomfort

Joe in an over-exaggerated French accent: Ahh oui Caroline, you 'ave ze nicest body I 'ave evur seen, madame, 'ow can Lord Jjjjulian resist you, mon petit pain!

Grace turning and walking away as Charlotte shakes his grip: 'My little loaf', monsieur? Joe, you really need to brush up on your languages, you know! And I don't quite think Lord Julian had that kind of 'hands on' behaviour in mind, Joseph, although I suppose you never know, even the gentry must have some dirty thoughts.

Charlotte, having finally managed to shake off Joe's wandering hands, leaving the footman sniggering and pointing at her, storms after Grace, slamming the door to the maid's quarters in his face after announcing loudly 'you can't come in here, Mr James!' with a superior snort. Perching herself on her bed, Charlotte continues to moan about Joe's obtrusiveness until Grace finally broaches the subject of what she may or may not be doing on her day off the following day. Charlotte, turning a little pink, mumbles something about possibly going into town but Grace, not fooled by her colleague's attempts to cover something up, moves over to her and sits next to her, grinning cheekily as if she has just worked out Charlotte's deepest, darkest secret

Charlotte raising an eyebrow at Grace, her fingers drumming on her lap: Why are you looking at me like that, Grace May?

Grace sucking in her cheeks and pouting: So, going into town then? On your own?

Charlotte shrugging, shaking Grace's gaze and staring at the ceiling: Maybe, maybe not. Not that it's any of your business what I do on my day off, I never ask you, not that I have to ask of course!

Grace cocking her head to the side and sniffing out a laugh: Well, well, Charlotte Lewis, are you walking out with him then? The nice Doctor Evans?

Charlotte turning scarlet and busying herself with her hair: It's just one afternoon, we're going to see the ducks, I'm not 'walking out' with him Grace, you make it sound breathing in deeply and flopping back: Well, he is rather dashing, and you could do worse. I'm jealous in a way, but you must tell me all about it!

Charlotte who can't help but return her smile, her voice quiet: Yes, he's lovely. He really is.

After a rather delightful discussion with the petit Bridgette about her journey, Jarvis had shown her up to the door of her room, explaining in the most fluent of French that the staff at Taplows are a friendly bunch and would, he was sure, befriend her and treat her as one of their own in no time, even if they couldn't understand a word she said. He had told her not to worry, he and the chef Mr Kraus would translate as much as possible, but the next day she should introduce herself to the housekeeper after morning prayers, with his help, of course. Smiling softly, Bridgette had thanked him for his kind help, and Jarvis couldn't help but feel like he had done a good deed, being so helpful, considering that his dark mood had never left him since being unable to find Flora. She had been avoiding him, damn it, and it was high time he went and found her, worried his regret at his behaviour would turn to animosity if she continued to ignore him.

After Bidding a weary Bridgette goodnight, with a polite smile and a slight nod of the head, Jarvis strides purposefully away, glancing at his pocket watch. Grunting, he snaps the lid shut and shoves it back into his pocket. If Flora thinks the lateness of the hour will stop him from seeing her for another night then she most definitely has another thing coming, he fumes, but as he climbs the stairs to her door, he suddenly feels more nervous than he had done for a long time. Breathing in deeply, the butler pulls out the envelope and flips it between his fingers, glancing from it to her door, wondering for a moment whether she would be asleep at this time, or whether she is sitting up in front of the fire, hugging her cushion, her hair draped around her shoulders and framing her beautiful, flawless face. Concealing the envelope once again its hiding place of his jacket pocket, Jarvis knocks lightly on the door, expecting a confused housekeeper to open it ajar and demand to know what part of her life he wanted to ruin now, but no reply is forthcoming. Angry at himself for feeling frustrated about this, Jarvis turns to leave, to go back to his room to mull over his annoyance, but just as he is about to make his weary retreat, something stops him and he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at the door. Before he could think about it, he holds his breath and tries her door handle, and he pushes the door open firmly but quietly, stopping in the doorway. Sure enough, Flora's fire is burning bright, but as he moves round he can see her, as he predicted, clutching her cushion for dear life, but fast asleep, her head leaning against the back of her chair and her chest falling and rising gently.

Studying her carefully, Jarvis steps closer, his heart beating hard in his chest, his nerves shredded after building himself up to confronting her since their last, disastrous encounter. He resists the urge to reach out and run his fingers down her face, the last thing he wants is to give her a shock, but feeling there is no harm in watching he smiles gently to himself as he takes her in, her body for once not tied up in her corset but free under her nightgown, he only curses that her robe is wrapped around her so tightly and her cushion in her lap, obstructing a clearer view. The light from the fire flickers shadows across Flora's face, her expression peaceful and almost happy. Maybe, thinks Jarvis, she is dreaming about life away from Taplows, how it could be for her if she were to break free from him, maybe forever. He wouldn't blame her if she hated him and his selfishness now, how could he have not seen what burning the letter would do to her? Shaking his head, he fishes into his pocket and smoothes out the crumpled envelope, placing it on her fireside table next to a book - the Italy book. Smiling wistfully, Jarvis picks it up and flicks through it, noticing that its spine is looking a little worn from plenty of keen reading. Other than that it is in pristine condition, and Jarvis is slightly surprised that she still has it out, rather than it being stashed on her bookshelf gathering dust. But then again, why should he be surprised, she had always seem fascinated by it, but whether that was because he had bought it for her, he isn't quite sure. Placing it carefully back on the table, exactly where she had left it, he pats the envelope as if he is reassuring it that Flora will accept its contents, before glancing back at her for one last look, not knowing whether this would be the very last time he would ever see Flora sleep. 'I love you' he mutters quietly, the tears beginning to spring to his eyes, 'I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me'.

You coward, a voice inside him suddenly frets, why don't you wake her and tell her face to face? Stop just standing there like a great sour pudding, as Mr Adams would say, and wake her up! Of course, he has no real intention of doing so, no matter how much his heart is screaming at him. As he sniffs back the tears, Flora moves slightly, shifting herself round and nuzzling her cushion, and Jarvis can't help but wish to high heaven that she was nuzzling him instead. Leaning forward, the butler places a small, soft kiss on her forehead, breathing in her scent as he brushes the hair away gently. Flora however doesn't stir, and he straightens up, his body gripped with the draining emotion of the moment.

With one last sorrowful glance, Jarvis bites his lip, the lump growing in his throat, and opens the door slowly, stepping out and shutting it as silently as possible behind him. He hovers by the closed door for a moment, not wanting to leave go of the door handle, but in the end sense prevails and he sighs, reluctantly leaving Flora to her slumber and her peaceful dreaming. Or so he presumes.

As soon as Flora hears the door close, she breathes a sigh of relief. She had thought he'd never leave, not that she had wanted him to, not really, not in her heart. She had thought about pretending to wake up – she had only been dozing lightly, the warmth of the fire making her feel slightly drowsy, but when he had knocked she just couldn't bring herself to invite him in. Nobody else, apart from maybe Felix, would have knocked on her bedroom door so late, so she had gambled on her feeling that it had been Walter. She cursed her own cowardice, how she had been avoiding him, but she just couldn't face his harsh, condemning words, that look of disappointment in her masked by fury in his eyes, not tonight. But his tenderness had surprised her, and she had felt a surge of warmth, and guilt, flow through her when he had whispered his love for her. Whether he would have said that if she had been awake she isn't sure she will ever know, but it had almost moved her to tears, although she is pleased that it hadn't as it would have most definitely blown her cover.

Opening her eyes and sitting forward, a look of confusion and sadness spreading across her face, she places the cushion on her lap. Blinking, it takes a moment for her sight to adjust to the soft light in the room, but eventually her gaze falls on the envelope on the table.

Exhaling a little whimper of surprise, the housekeeper tentatively reaches over and picks it up, staring at it in confusion until her curiosity gets the better of her and she rips at the seal, pulling out the contents eagerly. But what she finds makes her gasp in surprise. She had expected a letter, one from Walter giving her another ultimatum, maybe his kiss had been his last to her, a final gesture before ending their relationship for good, and his sorrowful declaration of love had been in spite of their doomed affair. But there isn't a letter, but a cheque, made out to her, for the sum of……glancing, startled, up at the wall, as if the portrait of former housekeeper Mrs Crouch had suddenly called out her name, she lowers the cheque to her lap and begins to breathe heavily. For a minute all she can do is let her mind swirl with emotion, until she almost reluctantly looks back down at the cheque. Attached is a small note, in Walter's hand, and all it reads is 'Go live a little. You will be forever in my heart, your loving Walter.'

She reads those two sentences over and over until she can't read them any more, her vision is too blurred for the tears pooling in her eyes. 'Oh, Walter,' she sniffs quietly to herself, placing the cheque back in the envelope and flopping back into her chair 'what have I done?'

Next morning the staff assembled obediently in the lower Servants hall, and Mrs Ryan paced up and down inspecting each of her maids, making sure each wore a clean apron and was neat and respectable before the Earl arrived for morning prayers. However in reality her thoughts were a million miles away, she had spent most of the night thinking about her and Walter and what his cheque symbolised. Was he trying to tell her it was all over, and so was giving her the money so she would leave and never trouble him again, or was it meant so she go travelling with Mrs Harrison and he would be waiting for her when she returned, dammit why did he always have to be so vague?

She had intended to corner him before breakfast and demand an explanation, but due to staying up late she had for the first time ever overslept and so had missed the meal completely. Mentally reproaching herself for such a slip in standards, she had decided to talk to him after morning prayers, possibly take along some tea and cake so he realised she was no longer as angry with him as she was a few days ago. However she was quickly jarred from these thoughts when her maids all erupted into a fit of giggles, whirling round she locked her gaze on the tittering Lizzie and Grace May.

"Would you care to share what is so amusing?"

"Oh it's nothing Mrs Ryan…" Lizzie began, but she was unable to finish her sentence as on catching Grace's eye she burst out laughing once more.

"It doesn't sound like nothing?" Flora replied for once intrigued.

"Oh we can tell Mrs Ryan Lizzie." Grace cut in. "You see Charlotte is walking out with our young dashing Doctor Evans this afternoon, and this morning she woke us all up in a panic…"

"That's right" Lizzie cut in. "She was all worked up because she didn't know what on earth they were supposed to talk about, after all he's this educated man, and well she's only a simple housemaid."

"Look Lizzie who's telling this?" Grace snapped at her friend causing her to fall silent. "Well I mentioned if she's so worried about saying the wrong thing then perhaps it would be better not to talk at all. And she replied but if we don't talk what will we do all afternoon?" Grace stopped, as she began to snort uncontrollably with laughter, waving her friend to finish telling the story.

"Yes as Grace was saying," Lizzie began. "She genuinely didn't understand what Grace was hinting at and so she just stood staring at us dumbly a look of confusion on her face whilst we all cracked up, standing there asking us 'what's so funny?'. Until suddenly she realised, oh I've never seen someone go so red so quickly, she got all uppity with us then and sulky. Then Grace…" Lizzie trailed off sniggering.

"Then Grace what?" Mrs Ryan asked the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

"Grace suggested if Charlotte wanted to learn how to make a good impression on a man the best person to ask was probably the new French lady's maid."

"New lady's maid?" Flora asked her confusion mounting as the two maids both nodded, before Lizzie continued with her story.

"After all French women are notorious…. But than Charlotte retorted that even if she did ask she'd never understand a word the woman said anyway….And Grace…"

"I remarked that well she could always demonstrate, after all actions speak louder than words." Grace added finally after regaining control for a few seconds, before all three women burst out laughing.

"Settle down, Take your places!" Jarvis's voice bellowed through the hall, causing the three women to quieten immediately and Flora to stalk to the front to stand with the rest of the senior staff, catching Walter's eye for a moment as she went and being unable to keep the barely contained mirth from her expression. This earned a puzzled glance from the butler, to which she responded by mouthing 'later' before taking her place to his left for the prayers.

A few minutes later and the assembled group broke up each member of staff going about his or her business, Jarvis paused for a moment before turning to the housekeeper unsure about how to start the conversation, so instead taking her elbow and escorting her out of the hall and down the corridor. When they reached her office he released her grudgingly, and began to walk away to his office only to be called back by Flora.

"Mr Jarvis."

"Mrs Ryan." He countered.

"I understand we have a new lady's maid." Flora began.

"Yes a Mademoiselle Dubois." Jarvis replied, "I instructed her to introduce herself to you this morning, but you weren't around…." He trailed off unable to comment on her absence without sounding as if he was reprimanding her.

"I know I was late, I overslept, I'm sorry but I will be delighted to make her acquaintance at some point this morning."

"Yes well her English still needs work, I've offered to teach her but it will take some time so if you have any problems please let me know and I will endeavour to provide the necessary bridge, so to speak." He replied still unable to hold her gaze, as his eyes flickered from one side of the corridor to the other and so missing the pleading expression in Flora's eyes.

"I was wondering…I was hoping we might have a chance to speak this morning." Flora began. "After all there is so much to discuss, now the Earl will be getting his money back we have hordes of new staff to appoint amongst other things…" Finally catching his gaze and holding it. "We do need to talk!" She added as she stepped tentatively towards him, laying her hand on his arm gently.

For a moment Jarvis simply stared at her, unable to believe the expression of warmth in her expression, before glancing downwards at where her hand still lay, his skin prickling at the sensation of her touch even through his shirt and jacket. Before lifting his other hand and laying it softly atop hers, squeezing it gently. "Half an hour in my office?" He asked, his deep voice cracking slightly with emotion, managing somehow to smile slightly when she nodded her acquiescence.

"In half and hour then." Flora whispered softly, leaning forward and kissing him quickly and softly on the cheek before turning and disappearing into her office leaving a stunned and emotionally shaken butler to gaze longingly after her.

The half an hour between the end of prayers and her appointment with Walter dragged slowly, determined to keep herself busy Flora made her way to the kitchen, and carefully avoiding a delicate conversation with Felix by waiting till he was out the room before entering she began to put together a tea tray. Smiling naughtily to herself she dashed into the pastry to see what culinary delights the chef had prepared that morning, well surely no one would notice if a few slices of his exquisite lemon cake went missing. So quickly she cut two slices and placed them gingerly on a nearby plate, before caving in and cutting Walter another; well it was his favourite after all. Placing the plate on her tray she checked to see if the tea was steeping properly before seizing it firmly and heading off towards the butler's office.

Meanwhile Jarvis was sat behind his desk, his big book of figures open in front of him but his mind far from the calculations that needed performing, in a few minutes Flora would be here and he still had no idea what he was going to say. However his silent ponderings were soon cut short when his office door was flung open and an hysterical Bridgette staggered towards him.

Immediately concerned he rose from his seat, "What's the matter?" He began but his words were soon cut off when the diminutive lady flung her arms around him and began to sob wholeheartedly against his chest. Unsure about what he should do in this situation Jarvis patted her awkwardly on the back, making soothing noises, but at the same time looking completely bewildered as to what he should be doing about it.

"She is 'orrible…" Bridgette managed to gasp out. "So… what is the word?... nose of caramel…"

"Toffee-Nosed?" Jarvis asked bemused, by Bridgette mangling of the English language.

"Yes she has the manners of un animal, un cochon." She added, wiping at her tears and brushing her hair away from her face. " Crier à tue-tête à moi, and …how do you say ? Throwing her brosse du cheveu à moi, aussi ! "

"She threw her hair brush at you?" Jarvis asked astounded.

"Oui!" Bridgette replied, brushing her hair away from her face to show him the now fading read mark that was visible under her blond ringlets. "Regarder!" She added, as Jarvis seized her chin to angle her head so he could better examine the red mark which was slowly fading, leaning down he brushed her hair away from obstructing his view.

However it was at this precise moment Flora made her entrance, pushing wider the already open door she stopped dead in the doorway an look of horror and disbelief on her face, as she spotted the pretty new maid locked in Walter's embrace, him tenderly brushing her hair from her face as he had often done with her. How could he? In broad daylight embracing another, when he knew darn well she was on her way? For a moment her hands shook and she felt sure she would drop the tray so she quickly backed out of the room before the pair spotted her presence, and shaking made her way back to her own office.

Closing the door firmly behind her she put the tray down carefully on the table before sinking down despondently into her chair. In that moment she realised the real the reason for the cheque, he hadn't meant it as conciliatory gesture it had been a parting gift, a last token of his affection. Once months ago now he had told her if she wouldn't give him what he wanted he would one day move on and try and find someone who would; at the time she hadn't believed him but now it seemed as if he had done just as he said he would. Shaking slightly Flora wrapped her arms around her waist hugging herself protectively, the feelings of despair and nausea both fighting for supremacy as she leant her spinning head against the cool surface of her desk.

She sat like this for a few minutes her turbulent emotions swinging from the depths of despair to blind fury and back again. How dare he treat her like this, as though she meant nothing? One minute claiming to love her so faithfully the next putting her aside like yesterday's garbage when some one younger and some might say prettier comes along. It's because she's younger, plenty of time for a family with her, unlike poor aging Flora who couldn't even keep hold of the one child she somehow managed to conceive. That's why he asked her to forgive him last night, not because of the incident with the letter but because of what he had begun with that French hussy, and he was giving her money so she could leave them to it.

Shaking slightly Flora drew out the letter she had received that morning, she had wanted to talk this over with Walter first before deciding, but damnit he had made it perfectly clear she was surplus to requirements here. Shaking she began to reply to her friend's letter, she would be delighted to meet her in London in a months time, in fact the whole prospect of another month at Taplows now felt less than appealing. They would Christmas in London and then set sail in the New Year for the continent, where with any luck she could put any thoughts of Walter Corey firmly behind her.

Pausing outside the drawing room, the scheming valet smiled. For Frank, it all seems far too easy. Far too easy indeed. That bit of posh is putty in his hands and it is all going even better than he had planned. She couldn't have broken up with that past-it under-butler a day too soon, and now, well, he is running his own agenda, although he is shrewd enough to know he needs to stay well away from Adams for the time being, he would deal with him later. Thank the Lord for heart attacks! That ugly trollop Lady Hamilton-Hussey will only hear what he wants her to hear from now on, she may think that she's clever but she's just as stupid as the rest of them. Oh yes, Mr Frank Keneally will get his bit of fun and be paid handsomely for it by a gullible aristo, just to make it all the better - the metaphorical thick white icing on one of Kraus' fine cakes.

After a chuckle to himself, Frank entered the drawing room to see Franny stood by the window, looking out and up at the clear, wintry sky, a sour expression on her podgy face. She swings round and her gaze locks on Frank, her cold, piercing green eyes darting about him as she raises her eyebrows questioningly.

Franny forcing a hollow smile, her voice laden with sarcasm: Well, nice of you to finally report back to me, Mr Keneally. I give you a whole pile of notes and that's the last I see of you all night, I hope it was worth my wait!

Frank closes in on her. He is well aware that secretly Franny desires him in her own perverse way and, repulsion aside, he can very much see how this could be used to keep her sweet. Snorting, he swings past her and throws himself into a chair - the Earl's favourite no less - and lay back in it, smirking as he folds his arms over his chest leaving Lady Francesca to stare at him disconcertingly until her one-sided sexual tension turns to blind rage. Her face grows redder as the valet raises his right leg and rests his ankle on his left knee

Franny her voice sharp and shrill: Mr Keneally, I don't remember asking you to sit down! Don't you go forgetting your position in this household, and your reputation is at stake now remember!

Frank shrugging, placing his hands behind his head so his elbows protrude: Oh, they don't like me round here, Lady F, I'm a good-for-nothing, just you ask old Jarvis. So not much of a reputation to ruin there. And anyway this chair's comfortable, no wonder that silly old sod likes it so much, anything to make his life just that little bit better than it already is.

Franny clicking her tongue and glancing at the door worriedly: Well, come on then, have you got any news or not? I don't pay you to lounge in chairs not fit for your dirty backside, Mr Keneally, so hurry it up and spit it out!

Sighing, Frank decides to take his own sweet time in relaying his information - if she had bothered to go and see her sister then she would probably have found out herself without having to pay out a small fortune to an opportunistic servant. Suddenly Frank smacks his lips together and leans forward from his very casual position in the chair, snatching up a fondant fancy from a silver tray placed on a round Georgian table just in front of him. Franny lets out a little gasp as Frank stuffs the whole cake into his mouth and brushes the crumbs off his trousers and onto the thick, heavily patterned carpet.

Frank gesturing to his mouth, his cheeks over-laden and voice muffled: Oh sorry, you don't mind, do you? Haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving! Ooh, this was delicious, do you mind if I have another? Oh and pour us a cup of tea there would you, me darlin', I'm parched.

But before Frank can scoop another pink and white delight off the tray, Franny snatches him up by his collar and drags him out of the chair, pulling him towards her and Frank stares at her in shock

Franny gritting her teeth: Look, I'm stronger than you think Mr Keneally, now tell me what has been going on or you won't get another penny from me, DO YOU UNDERSTAND! I will not put up with your insolence, you're a God-damn servant, not my husband! Not that I'll put up with it from him either!

Frank pushes away from her, brushing down his jacket and smoothening his collar, a look of annoyance on his face from having the wind knocked so severely out of his sails. Harrumphing, he reluctantly begins to tell her what he considers to be the vague truth

Frank without an ounce of sympathy in his voice: Adams has ended it. I saw Lady Rebecca last night and it took all my efforts to console her, he says he doesn't love her any more. So that's basically the long and short of it. And before you ask, yes I spoke to Adams, and he confirmed it. I won't repeat to you what he called her, a lady of your delicate frame could hardly take it, but it had something to do with her flirting outrageously with some of the grounds staff.

Franny shaking her head in disbelief, lowering herself onto the settee, her skirts billowing around her: But...but I don't understand it, she was all for leaving us - leaving father - to run away with him. She threatened to, said they loved each other...

Frank shrugging: Ah, well, it's funny isn't it, you think you know someone, when in fact, they're not what they seem at all. I for one couldn't see it lasting, a girl like her. I don't mean to be rude about your sister, Lady Francesca, but really, she does seem to like her men.

Franny leaping up and pacing the room, her anger returning as her dress rustles furiously: I should have known it! I bet he couldn't keep his bloody pants on either, off with some other servant girl I expect!

Frank looking at Franny quizzically: So, is my work here done? Or is there more to be discovered, do you think?

Franny purses her lips and laughs quietly but wickedly, sauntering up to the valet and staring him straight in the eye, a calculated look on her face. Not for the first time, Frank feels a little intimidated by her, but stands tall none the less and returns the stare.

Franny smoothening down Frank's collar, her voice suddenly seductive: Oh there's always more, Mr Keneally, my you are naïve. She's at her most vulnerable now, remember, all those tears, so much comfort for you yet to give, my boy. Go to her, find out more about the argument, I want to know everything.

Frank: And why do you want to know everything, eh? You never have told me what it is you're going to do.

Franny letting out a distaining snort: And as I've said, that's none of your business! Your business is what I tell you it is, but I'll tell you this, by the time you and me are done, she's going to be ruined - I'm not going to be in her shadow for much longer, that's for sure.

You wouldn't damn well fit in her shadow, Frank thinks with a mental laugh, but just as he is about to leave, Franny steps in front of him and leans in – Frank could swear she is pushing her chest out more than usual, but not really wanting to focus much on that particular area blinks as Lady Hamilton-Hussey grabs his wrist

Franny glancing around the room as if someone may have materialised and is listening in: Lord Hamilton-Hussey is in Bristol on business tonight, so when you've seen Rebecca and Lord Julian has dismissed you come to my room, it's the safest place away from prying eyes. You can tell me what she said and I'll pay you more money.

Frank a frosty smirk spreading across his face as he exits: Oh, I know you will.

The rest of the day dragged on, the sun hiding lazily behind gathering clouds and causing wintry darkness to descend on Taplows. But the mood inside made the weather seem positively Mediterranean, as Flora flew around the house bellowing her orders and spending a great deal of time and energy avoiding Jarvis as best she could. Woefully she resigned herself to the fact that this is now a regular occurrence, only stopping briefly to glance at him down the corridor, watching him silently as he reprimanded George for not polishing his shoes correctly, then disappearing quickly before he can notice her.

Outside, a coach pulls up to the gates of the courtyard. It is approaching 4.30 and already the sun has set and twilight has turned to pitch, an owl hooting quietly in the distance. A cloaked figure jumps out of the carriage and trots around to the other side, flinging open the door and helping a lady out onto the cobbles. For a minute, both say nothing but stare sheepishly at each other, one of the many awkward moments that had taken place between them throughout the day, but nevertheless the two are far more comfortable in each other's company than it would first appear

Charlotte blushing in the darkness and lowering her eyes: Well, thank you, for such a lovely day, your cooking rivals that of our chef here, and the ducks in the park were….well…..

Evans smiling warmly: Feathery?

Charlotte giggling rather more girlishly than she would have liked: Yes, that's the right word. I just love their little beaks, all yellow and, well, er, long?

Evans, grinning more broadly, begins to make a duck beak with his hand by his mouth and make quacking noises, pecking at Charlotte's nose playfully until the two of them can't contain their laughter any longer at the stupidity of the conversation. The day had been full of such silly discussions and both had realised quite quickly that there seemed to be no end to them, and it has finally boiled over into hysterics. After calming themselves, Charlotte's usually pale cheeks even more flushed than they had been the whole day, Dr Evans gazes into her sparkling blue eyes and taking her hands raises them to his lips

Evans not taking his eyes from hers, his voice low and soothing: Charlotte Lewis, you are fascinating. And beautiful.

Charlotte biting her bottom lip and staring down into the darkness of the cobbles: Dr Evans, I wouldn't say either of those things about me, you are too kind.

Evans lowering his head to try to recapture her stare: No, not at all, I never say anything I don't mean, one can't when one is a doctor. You're intelligent and extremely striking, Miss Lewis, I can't deny it.

Charlotte drawing away from him slightly: Oh don't be daft, what do I know? I don't really have opinions on things, well not educated ones anyway, not like you Dr Evans, and I've got a silly sense of humour, I mean, I'm hardly a wit like you, I just laugh at duck beaks, and well I'm only a maid, why would you want to go on seeing someone like me, I'm not sophisticated like a lot of the ladies you must see from day to day, in your circles, and I……..

But she is unable to finish her incredibly long and rambling sentence as the doctor leans forward and captures her lips with his own, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her up. For only a split second Charlotte considers pulling away, but she rapidly changes her mind when she realises that all the will in the world can't force her away from him, her first real kiss with a man whom she knows she could very easily grow to love. Holding her breath in surprise she closes her eyes and kisses him back rather more passionately than even the doctor had presumed to do until finally after a long, lingering moment they part for air and Charlotte blushes again furiously.

Evans his dashing features creasing into a frown: Oh, Miss Lewis, I'm so sorry, I overstepped the mark, it being our first outing together, I shouldn't have…….

But Charlotte, before she could even think about what she is doing, leans up and kisses him softly again, brushing her gloved hand up the side of his face before pulling away but keeping her face very close to his. They gaze into each other's eyes, their hands entwining, before Evans smiles at her and kisses her cold nose gently

Evans opening the gate for her: Thank you for such a spellbinding day, Miss Lewis. Charlotte. Now you should go inside before you catch cold, and I know all about THEM! I hope it is not too presumptive of me, or too brash, but could I see you again?

Charlotte moving reluctantly away from him, a loving smile across her lips: No, it certainly isn't presumptive of you, Dr Evans. I would love to……ehem…I would very much enjoy another acquaintance with you, sir. But my day off isn't until the end of next month.

Evans shrugging and grinning: Then I shall wait. I would wait until the end of time for you, Miss Lewis.

Charlotte giggling and putting her fingers to her lips: Well, I do have an evening off in a week or so, I think 13th, so maybe we could do something?

Evans tipping his hat and bowing slightly: I shall look forward to it, but for now I bid you goodnight.

Charlotte smiles and waves as he climbs back into his carriage and indicates for the coachman to leave. Sighing, she turns to the gates, glancing up at the grand building and wondering for a moment what it would be like to get away from here and live life as near to a lady's as possible with a man as wonderful, kind and gentle as Dr Evans. Nobody had ever treated her like he had treated her that day, he made her feel special, feel individual and wanted, and if love could blossom from that then what an added joy that would be. Maybe she loves him already, she isn't sure, is that what love feels like? Grace would know, surely. Laughing softly to herself, she rubs her hands together in the cold, and closing the gate behind her makes her way back to the house, a slight spring in her dainty step.

That evening Flora Ryan barely touched her supper. She had been brave and had decided the only way to deal with the emerging situation between Walter and Bridgette was to face it head on, so that meant going to dinner. Sitting at her end of the table she pushed her food around on her plate, every few seconds glancing up at the other end of the table where a certain foursome were keeping the rest of the table amused. It seemed somehow prophetic how quickly she had been replaced; Bridgette sat to Walter's right, chattering away in her strange French/English hybrid, every few minutes touching his sleeve to draw his attention back to her. Apparently some of her translations were highly amusing and as a result had Walter, Emily and Felix in stitches. Blinking back the tears that threatened, Flora could only nod her acknowledgement when Mrs Diggins asked her a question, her thoughts far from her stilted conversation with the ladies maid.

Even Felix and Emily seemed delighted by the new turn of events, and as a result the tense atmosphere between the Chef and Butler seemed somewhat lessoned in the French Maid's presence. Laying her fork down on her barely touched plate, Flora picked up her napkin and dabbed daintily at the corners of her mouth, glancing back up she felt eyes on her, and for a moment her gaze locked with the new maid's, who smiled broadly at her. Stunned and shaken by the woman's audacity Flora laid her napkin down and stood up to leave, causing everyone to turn and their eyes to lock on her. "Excuse me, I'm not feeling well, I think I'll retire now." Flora added her hands trembling slightly as she turned and practically fled from the room.

Jarvis sat and stared after her, he just didn't know what was wrong with her today. This morning it had seemed things were getting better, she had been openly warm towards him and had arranged to meet him to talk things over but then she had never turned up and he had spent the rest of the day chasing her wake. He had hoped that after dinner they would have a chance to speak, but as he watched her during the meal withdraw further and further into herself this nagging feeling turned more and more to serious concern. She wasn't eating again, she barely spoke at all during the meal, and she didn't even look at him preferring to stare at her untouched plate. In fact he had spent so much time lost in thought, gazing at the housekeeper, he kept missing questions Bridgette was asking him, causing her to touch his arm in order to bring him back to reality long enough to answer her question, the rest of the time he simply got by by laughing whenever anyone else laughed, even if he had no idea what it was about.

Sighing to himself as he tucked into the dessert that now lay invitingly in front of him, he was going to have to find out what had gone wrong in that half an hour between their discussion in the corridor and their missed appointment in his office. Finally the meal drew to a close and people started to drift off and he was drawn out of his silent reverie by Bridgette who was patting his arm sympathetically. Shaking off his melancholy he stood up and offering her his arm escorted her out of the dining room, when they were almost at his office, Bridgette suddenly spoke.

"Ahhh c'est curious!" She whispered almost to herself.

"What's curious?" Jarvis asked.

"I thought Madame Ryan was….how do you say..mal?"

"Ill." Jarvis replied to which Bridgette nodded furiously.

"Oui, mais when we passed zz scullery I could have sworn…mais Je dois avoir été erroné. "

"You may have been mistaken, why what did you see?" Jarvis asked genuinely confused.

"I could of sworn it was her, Madame Ryan, Mais c'est impossible, if she is ill then she would be at her bed by now, oui?" Bridgette replied genuinely confused.

"Well that depends…" Jarvis trailed off his anger at Flora's childish behaviour mounting as he turned and stormed back in the direction of the scullery, the petite maid struggling to keep up with his giant strides.

Storming into the scullery Jarvis slammed the door open wide causing it to crash loudly against the wall causing the housekeeper to jump with fright dropping the clean sheets that she had been folding to put away.

"Mrs Ryan!" Jarvis snorted. "I thought you were unwell?"

"Yes, I was…I…Well I…" Flora began her mouth opening and shutting like a fish with few words managing to escape. "Yes?" Jarvis asked sarcastically as Bridgette finally arrived and immediately dashed forward to help the housekeeper gather her linen from the floor.

"I started to feel better, all I needed was some fresh air, and then I remembered I hadn't finished this task…" She trailed off snatching the sheets a little too forcefully from the maid as she straightened up, unwilling to look either of them in the face.

"Well if that is the case I expect to see you in my office forth with, and no dilly dallying to attend to other unfinished jobs on your way!" Jarvis added, his face flushed with anger and frustration as he turned leaving the two women alone in the scullery.

Struggling to control her own emotions Flora turned her attention to the task at hand, steadfastly ignoring all of Bridgette's attempts to help her. Seemingly oblivious to the housekeepers dark mood and in particular her new found loathing of the French in particular Bridgette started to prattle on.

"Oh your Monsieur Jarvis, is a fine gentle homme, he was so kind to me when I first arrived, no one else seemed to understand a word I spoked to them but he has been so 'elpful so welcoming. I was so worried I would not find myself a special friend en Anglaterre, c'etait bien to be proved wrong, ne c'est pas ? You know on zz first night I was 'ere he even took me to bed!" Bridgette stated, causing the confused housekeeper to stare at her in shock, and Bridgette to continue in her mangled English in order to explain.

"I 'ad 'eard that zz English homme, was reserved et serious mais Monsieur Jarvis is zz very opposite he 'as an amorous nature, do you not think, after all I understand you know him better than anybody else, I suppose zat in time we will get to be as close…" Bridgette trailed off smiling to herself and so missing the pained expression on the housekeepers face.

"Yes I'm sure you'll find some way to manage it!" Flora hissed unpleasantly, causing Bridgette to glance up at her as if looking at her for the first time.

"Oh 'ave I said something wrong, its is my English, ce n'est pas bien." She asked.

"Oh no." Flora replied. "I think I got your meaning loud and clear, now if you'll excuse me I have some final business to attend to."

"But of course you must not keep Monsieur waiting, after all I 'ave only been here the few days but even I know how demanding he can be about timing, you must come when he tells you to do so or not at all!"

Now scarlet and visibly shaking at the woman's level of brazenness and insensitivity Flora strode out of the room, towards the butlers office determined to give him a piece of her mind, and tell him the good news.

Flinging the door to his office wide open so it to slammed loudly against the wall, Flora stormed over to the butler who was standing by the fireplace, carefully stoking the flames before jumping slightly at her sudden and violent intrusion.

"What's the matter you seem so nervous, not burning anymore mail tonight are we? Perhaps you don't approve of my corresponding with the grocer or draper; worried I might be having some affair behind your back and will run off at a moments notice."

"Flora you're being ridiculous!" Jarvis snapped, leaning the poker against the fireplace and walking over to her.

"So now I'm not only a stupid woman who needs controlling I'm also ridiculous?" Flora retorted.

"Oh for god's teeth woman you know I didn't mean it like that, it's just today you've been…" He trailed off, unsure about how to extricate himself from this hole.

"Today I've been what Walter? Hmm? How have I been?" Flora asked, her eyes hard and cold as flint.

"You've been acting like a child, one moment skittish and flitting off here and there the next, well the next I would swear you were sulking!" Jarvis replied his own temper rising as he thought how unreasonable she was being, what on earth had he done wrong now?

"Oh so I'm a child, I suppose that's why you've gone off and found yourself a more adult playmate?" Flora hissed her cheeks flushing as her jealous temper got the better of her.

"Well she speaks a lot more sense, even with her garbled English than you are doing at the moment, quit talking in riddles and tell me what this is about?" Jarvis retorted closing the distance between them and finding it difficult to resist the urge to seize her shoulders and shake some sense into her before pulling her close.

"Riddles, oh I think the only subterfuge going on here is if your own making! Did you really think I wouldn't find out eventually, or we you planning on letting me find out just to get some sadistic satisfaction out of rubbing my nose in it?"

Then when Walter's expression of confusion didn't change to that of obvious guilt Flora continued. "You and your new conquest!" Flora ranted at him whilst beating her fists against his chest.

"Oh please we're just friends, any idiot could see that!" Exasperated Jarvis caught her wrists, and held them securely no matter how hard she tried to claw herself free. "God dammit you wild Cat, sheath your claws or will personally declaw you." Jarvis hissed in her ear, before turning them both round and pushing her back down into his desk chair.

For a moment Flora stopped struggling and convinced she was now going to cooperate Jarvis let her go, however as soon as he did Flora was up out of the chair and half way to the door. Turning on his heel Jarvis leapt forward and seized her firmly by the waist dragged her back, despite her best efforts to make him let her go. Determined not to be controlled Flora stamped down hard on one of Walter's feet causing him to immediately recoil in pain lifting his damaged foot off the floor and immediately unbalancing him so he went crashing forward into her knocking them both on to the floor in front of the fire.

Pinned down by the sheer weight of the butler Flora could only struggle futilely until Jarvis lifted some of his weight off of her, but just as she was about to brush him aside and get up, Walter seized her arm and violently tugged her over onto her back, his hands reaching up to seize her wrists as his mouth descended hungrily onto hers. Unable to push him away Flora stopped struggling and returned his kiss passionately, with a wild abandon she had rarely exhibited, for a moment they both battled for supremacy until reluctantly Flora surrendered to him completely.

Realising his victory was secured Walter released her wrists, and her hands instinctively wound their way up over his neck and into his hair pulling him closer. Returning the favour Walter's hands moved to her hair, tugging at the pins that her held her long dark curls captive before running his fingers through her soft tresses. Growling slightly and unwillingly to relinquish her lips for a second Walter began to tug at the fastenings of her dress, frowning in exasperation when they refused to cooperate. Frustrated by this turn of events and anxious to move proceedings along he began to pull harder until suddenly instead off the fastening giving way he heard the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric.

However just as he was about to capitalise on this, the relative silence of the servants quarters was shattered by the clanging of one of the servant's bells, and Jarvis knew without having to go and check it was that of the Earls study. Which could only mean one thing; the Earl wanted to go over tonight as he had done every night recently the progress of the preparations for their trip to India. Swearing under his breath Jarvis rolled off of the panting Flora, trying desperately to regain some semblance control, but failing miserably as he watched the housekeeper trying frantically to find some way to fasten her now ruined dress. Getting to his feet he offered his hands to help her up, but she waved them aside and began to quickly walk towards the door, not once glancing in his direction. Fearing he may have gone too far Jarvis followed her along the corridor and as she turned to go up the staircase to the third floor bedrooms he caught her elbow, anchoring her gently but firmly to the spot.

"Wait up for me, leave your door unlocked, this shouldn't take too long you know his lordship a large brandy and some reassurance and he'll be happy as a pig in swill, and then we can talk…" He added.

"Talk?" Flora asked her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she raised an eyebrow to punctuate her disbelief.

"Alright not just talk…. but we will… before or after well that's up to you, but we need to sort this out Flora or it'll tear us both up inside." Jarvis replied.

Harrumphing her scepticism Flora tried to pull out of his grip but the Butler was not finished just yet, stepping up beside her onto the first step of the staircase, he threaded his arms around her waist and glancing quickly over his shoulder pulled her against him for another passionate kiss and embrace. Jarvis lingered longer than he should luxuriating in the feel of her in his arms, gently tracing and caressing the curves of her body, only pulling away when he could hear in the distance the not so delicate sound of Frederick Matkin running hell for leather to fetch the absent butler.

"Wait for me!" Jarvis begged, his feelings of anxiety somewhat lessoned when he caught the hungry almost predatory look in her eyes, and automatically leaning back in to kiss her briefly but ardently, before turning and leaving. Only pausing for a moment to call back over his shoulder, "Promise me Flora", but already the housekeeper was dashing up the stairs to the relative safety of her room.

After over an hour with the Earl, Jarvis emerges far more agitated than when he had gone in, having been frustrated by His Lordship's desire to go through every single detail of the trip, all apart from the food about which he would inevitably call in chef to shout his orders at over 'all that foreign rubbish' staying off the menu. He doubts very much that Flora is prepared and waiting for him on her bed, but he vows he will sure as hell insist she listens, whether he has his way with her or not. Storming along the corridor his fixed expression of fury hardens further as his glare falls on Frank Keneally, hovering outside Lady Rebecca's room and looking decidedly shifty. Jarvis stops dead in his tracks, just waiting for Frank to notice him, and sure enough the valet turns and takes a step in the enraged butlers' direction before finally realising he is standing there.

Jarvis his voice stern and commanding: Mr Keneally, what do you think you are doing? Surely you know this place well enough not to get lost!

Frank sauntering up to Jarvis, standing only inches away from him, an amused expression on his face: Look, you're not the boss of me any more, if you hadn't noticed, and I can go anywhere I damn well please, WALTER!

Jarvis lowering his voice and staring him straight in the eye: I'll warn you just once to stay away from Lady Rebecca, Keneally. I may not be responsible for you any more, but when you're under my roof you will behave yourself or you will feel my hand across your face again, do I make myself
clear?

Frank snorting out a mocking laugh: Lady Rebecca? Andrew Adams' nice bit of blue-blooded arse? Yeah, she's a looker and no mistake, you've got an eye for the ladies Mr Jarvis - if you can call them that - don't you fancy a bit of her too?

Jarvis feeling his anger reaching boiling point, his good looks creasing in fury: Get out of my sight, your attitude and your downright insolence get right up my nose, I don't know how Lord Dalrimple-Sykes can stand the sight of you! I've no idea how you found out about Mr Adams but I suggest you keep away from Her Ladyship, although a damn good hiding would do you a world of good!

Frank pursing his lips and running his fingers through his light-brown hair: Ooh touched a nerve, did I! Didn't know Rebecca was into all that kinky stuff! Or did you mean Mr Adams? Oh and don't think you're going to strike me again, one more word to Lord Julian and I think your position will be seriously compromised, don't you? And talking of compromising positions, how is Mrs Ryan these days? Haven't got to see much of her lately, unlike you of course, Mr Jarvis, I bet she's a real treat under all those petticoats, makes a change from that tart you used to use in Bristol!

Jarvis moving even closer, his fists tightly clenched: I advise you to watch your mouth, Lord Julian or no Lord Julian I will silence you once and for all if you go so much as a ten yards near Mrs Ryan! You disgust me, just look at you, in your fancy frilly livery, when underneath you're nothing but a self-centred, nasty piece of crap which I thought I had scraped off the
bottom of my well polished shoe over a year ago!

Frank beginning to snigger, just to exasperate Jarvis even more: Oh, don't tell me you never told the lovely Flora about, oh what was her name, Gertrude, or something similar? Dirty Gertie didn't they call her? I tried her once and wasn't convinced, she must have been a hell of a lot more enthusiastic with you than she was with me, but you always were her number one choice, weren't you? Welcomed you with open arms - sorry, I mean legs - favourite customer and all that. Randy butlers must've been her thing, it's good to know you're not as sexually frigid as you would appear. Anyway how does Mrs Ryan compare to Gertie, hmm? Or did you prefer that tanned bird in Italy? Yeah I saw you sneaking off with her when the others were drunk, that guilty look on your face, you lascivious devil!

Jarvis' hand suddenly flies out and grabs Frank by the wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and pulling him backwards towards him. Frank lets out a short, pained yelp, his smug expression turned to an uncomfortable grimace, but this pleases Jarvis no end and only causes him to grip even harder

Jarvis whispering harshly, his mouth close to Frank's ear: How many more times do I have to tell you, keep that loose tongue in that head of yours or I'll rip it out! What I did in the past is where it will stay, things are different now and I will NOT have you getting in my way! You left this place vowing never to come back, but just look at you, a lackey again like the rest of us, isn't that right, Keneally! Now listen to me and listen good, you keep your distance from the housekeeper and from Lady Rebecca otherwise their complaints about you will be the very least of your worries!

With a hard shove, Jarvis roughly releases Frank, who staggers forward, falling into the wall and spinning round, gripping his wrist in pain. With a spiteful snarl he shakes his head and then jabs his finger at Jarvis accusingly

Frank almost spitting in contempt: You just can't bear the fact that I'm better than you, can you! This damned house is full of fools, and you're the biggest one of all, Mr Jarvis! Well, the tannery may not have worked out, but if you think I'm going to stick around ruining my life slaving my guts out for this lot you've got another thing coming!

Frank pushes himself away from the wall, lunging threateningly at Jarvis, moving intimidatingly close again, but the butler stands firm, his expression of contempt set in concrete

Frank snatching at Jarvis' grey waistcoat and pulling him slightly forwards: You presume to stand and lecture me about how I should behave when you let your under-butler get away with sleeping with the aristocracy, while you go from one scrubber to the next before hopping into bed with the housekeeper right under the toffee nose of old Sturges Bourne! You're a hypocritical joke with fake morals and a fake name to boot, you think you're so high and mighty being a butler when in fact you're nothing...!

Jarvis smacks Frank's grip away with a hard slap then cuts him off mid-rant, desperately trying to keep his temper from flaring further and beating his former under-butler to a bloody pulp. He knows answering back will just be fruitless, Frank is just trying to provoke him into hitting him again, this time much harder than the last, so the smug valet can watch him being humiliated by that fop Julian before being thrown out without character, his reputation in ruins

Jarvis speaking threateningly quietly and slowly: Unless your master requires you Keneally, get back to your room. Now. And make no mistake, I will be watching you.

Frank curls his lip, an almost manic look of hatred in his eyes which sends a small chill down Jarvis' spine. With a disdainful 'pah!' Frank turns on his heels and storms away, making his mind up to lie low before paying Lady Francesca a late-night visit. Jarvis, his heart thumping in his chest, watches Frank disappear down the hallway. With a brief glance at Rebecca's closed door he tugs out the creases in his waistcoat and strides off in the opposite direction, his jacket flying out behind him.

Of course, if Jarvis thinks that he will get from the main house to Flora's room without any interruption then he is about to be sorely mistaken. Muttering expletives about a certain valet under his breath, he shakes his head and crunches his knuckles as he makes his way through the servant's quarters until he suddenly stumbles upon Grace May, chattering and giggling loudly with a certain mother of his. They both glance at him in surprise, Emily smiling pleasantly at her son, expecting a similar response. But Jarvis, in no mood to be sociable, causes both women to jump in shock as he vents his wrath

Jarvis giving his mother a cursory glance then glaring at Grace: Miss May, I am sure you have better things to do than stand around gossiping, so go about your evening duties and for God's sake girl wash your face, change your apron and stop dilly-dallying about!

Emily quickly jumping in before Grace can apologise: Walt….Mr Jarvis, it is my fault, I stopped her, don't take it out on her. We were just…….

Jarvis gritting his teeth and glancing at his pocket watch: I frankly don't care what you were just doing, Mother, I would kindly ask you not to interrupt my staff, for if they begin slacking then the whole house will begin to suffer!

Emily just stands there in surprise, her mouth open slightly and her eyes wide, completely taken aback by Walter's harsh tone. He had never spoken to her in such a cold, unfriendly manner before – his staff may be used to it but she certainly isn't and isn't about to take such insolence from her own flesh and blood. Grace curtseys slightly, and with an apologetic glance at Emily hurries off, wiping the smudges of flour off her face, leaving mother and son to stand in awkward silence for a brief, tense moment until they are sure Grace is out of ear-shot.

Emily moving closer to her son, staring up at him in fury, her voice harsh but quiet: How dare you speak to me like that, and in front of your staff! What is wrong with you lately!

Jarvis trying to avoid eye contact, his temper rising in his chest: Oh, leave it Mother, I'm not in the damn mood!

Emily: You never are, are you! You've been rude to me, mean to Felix for reasons I have no idea, and all this with Flora, I don't know what you think you're doing but you seem to be alienating everyone and you need to have a good talk with yourself!

Jarvis breathing in deeply, his expression still stony and unmoving: Since you've been here, you've done nothing but interfere with my life, and I'm fed up with it! All this plotting with Felix, and still you won't leave it alone! Ever since Father died you've become so meddling, as if you're making up for lost time, why don't you just go back to Eastbourne, you're doing more harm than good, no wonder it's all going to wrong with Flora!

Emily's chin begins to wobble through upset and complete shock, never had Walter spoken to her with such disrespect, and she can't help the tears beginning to pool in her eyes, but this does nothing to soften her son's attitude, it is almost as if he has forgotten exactly who he is talking to. But all he can think about is getting to Flora, and his mother's amazing ability for bad timing is finally beginning to grate just that bit too much

Emily her timid voice croaked with emotion: Walter, how can you say those things to me? I am only trying to help you, it's only because I love you and worry about you, like any good mother should.

Jarvis huffing and snorting: All my life you let Father treat me like dirt, kick me around, do me down, tell me how useless and pathetic I am, and all you did was stand by and watch, and now? Now you want to suddenly help me? Why do you think I am how I am, eh! You know he cared more for Robert than he did for me, I was just nothing to him

Emily the tears finally rolling down her cheeks: Walter I tried to talk to him, I really did but you remember what he was like, there was no talking to him…..!

Jarvis interrupting harshly: Pah! Whatever! Frankly I don't care any more, you and Felix can do what you like, I just don't want him near me! I may even talk to the Earl about getting a new chef, there is nothing more to be said between us, and also between you and me Mother! Stay, go, up to you, but stop talking to my staff when they should be working, and STOP interfering with my life!

And with that, shaking, Jarvis turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving his despondent mother to stand and stare in despair, unable to move for the lead weight in her stomach. Turning the corner, Jarvis stops and rubs his forehead, sighing heavily and shutting his eyes, shocked by his own harshness to his mother. He hadn't meant to be so cruel, to say those things, but they just came tumbling out, spiteful word after the other, and now he fears she may never speak to him again. Just like everyone else. He had gotten so angry not just because of her interference, but also because in his heart he knows she is right and that he is alienating the very people he cares for, and who care for him. Damn it, he'll find her tomorrow and apologise, it will be fine, she's a tough lady she can take it. But for now, he has more pressing matters to deal with

Meanwhile upstairs Flora Ryan is pacing up and down the length of her room, glancing over to her chair where her ruined dress lay, a poignant reminder of the events of an hour or so ago. Running her fingers through her cascading curls, her breathing still quicker than normal as she recalled the events in the butler's office and then later on the stairs. It had been overwhelming, one moment they were fighting, the next they had begun to make love. Flushing with both embarrassment and excitement Flora placing her hand on her heaving chest, the pounding of her heartbeat filling her ears. What was she going to do? She realised that had the Earl not rang for Walter then there was no doubt in her mind they would have made love in his office, and on the floor of all places, a somewhat disturbing emerging tendency for them.

The question that remained utmost in her mind was whether or not she should do as he requested and leave her door unlocked for him. There was no denying she wanted to, a part of her was crying out for her to forget any dalliance Walter may be carrying on with the new maid, and give in to her more primal desires. She loved him and she wanted him, surely for tonight at least she could put all sane thought aside and simply indulge herself? After all in a few weeks she would gone from Taplows jaunting around Europe with her oldest friend, and not long after her Walter would be leaving for India, things would never be the same again and surely she would always regret it if she just let him spend their last remaining weeks together estranged, driven into the arms of another.

Suddenly she was jarred from her thoughts by a soft tapping at her door, for a moment she paused unsure how to react, should she let him in or not? Then all of a sudden she dashed across to the door, flinging the door open wide, but to her disappointment it was not Walter standing in the darkness but Bridgette. Stunned to see the maid standing at her door so late at night Flora did not know how to react.

"Ahh Madame Ryan, I am so glad to see un faire bon visage que Je suis connu."

"What?" Flora asked, her disappointment clear in her voice.

"Urghhh…I was 'oping that you might be able to 'elp me, it will sound très imprudent mais, Je…I have managed to misplace one of my suitcases, hier nuit I used zz toilette dans mon travelling case du toilette mais this night I 'ave ran out of certain items and I was 'oping that I could borrow some of yours just for this night."

Bewildered and unable to think of an appropriate excuse Flora stood back and ushered the maid into her room, ignoring the maid's stifled gasp of astonishment when her gaze fell on the ruined dress that was still draped over the arm chair.

"Mon Dieu!" Bridgette exclaimed walking over to the dress and running her fingers across the vicious tear in the fabric from collar to waist. "'Ow did this happen? Where you attacked by someone or was it a rampaging animal, I 'ave heard that zz peacock dans le jardin is particularly vicious?"

Embarrassed Flora snatched the dress out of Bridgette's hands, "It's nothing, only a tear, the fastening got caught in the fabric and it ripped when I was undressing earlier." Flora replied, stumbling over her words in her haste, unable to meet the French maid's eye. Unconvinced but unwilling to press the housekeeper Bridgette only raised an eyebrow in response to Flora's slip shod explanation.

"You wanted to borrow some things?" Flora asked.

"Ah Oui, if I may I require a nightdress and if you have any some camomile soap, I will just have to wait till I can send to town for the more spécialiste items."

Nodding Flora walked over to her dressing table and removed a clean and neatly pressed night dress, before opening one of the top drawers and removing a new bar of camomile soap. "Are you sure there is nothing else you need?"

"Oui, unless you have some essence de rose or lavender that I could borrow, I like to add some drops to my bath water, it 'elps relax me before I go to bed and it also gives the skin and 'air a certain sense of je-ne-sais-quoi! I have found les hommes find it très séduisant." She added winking conspiratorially at Flora.

Glancing down into her drawer Flora ignored the little bottle of rose water she had confiscated from Esther Spicer all those months ago and pushed it firmly shut, there was no way in hell she was going to help this little madam in her courtship of her Walter. "I'm sorry I don't."

"Ahh well never mind, I am sure I can make do for zz time being, I am sure I can persuade Monsieur Jarvis to arrange for some to be picked up from town pour moi. He is such a giving man, he will make such a good husband for the right woman, he will bend over…'ow do you say, reverse…No Backwards, that is it, bend over the backwards if you rub him zz right way, but I can imagine he could 'ave quite zz temper if rubbed up wrong, n'est pas?"

"Well I suppose so!" Flora managed to blurt out, unable to believe the audacity of the woman, first asking for a favour and then blatantly admitting she had designs on her Walter, viewing him as husband material.

"Mais Je connu he could get angry enough to start throwing things perhaps even tearing at things nearby in an effort to vent his frustration!" Bridgette added, her gaze falling unsubtly on the torn dress that Flora had flung on the bed.

Immediately flushing with embarrassment, Flora walked over to her door opening it wide in the most blatant of leave immediately statements, but Bridgette took her time, walking over to the housekeeper she patted her sympathetically on the arm. "C'est bien Je comprend, but if you ever need to talk, especially about the complications of zz the male mind or libido zen you will always find my door open, I think between zz two of us we should be able to come to some sort of arrangement. It will be difficile at zz beginning but after a while je suis certain we two can become the closest of amis, I have always taken pleasure from the company of both my male and female amis, and I 'ad 'oped that perhaps the three of use could become as close as intimes." Bridgette added, smiling coyly at the housekeeper before leaning upward and kissing her on both cheeks. "Bon Nuit Madame" She called back over her shoulder as she sashayed next door to her own room.

Half an hour or so later Flora was sitting by the fire staring into the flames when once again she heard a gentle tapping at the door, before the handle rattled futilely as someone attempted to enter.

"Flora!" Jarvis hissed through the keyhole. "Please love open the door, we only have to talk."

Getting up slowly from the chair Flora walked over to the door, leaning her forehead against the wooden panels she let out the breath that she had been holding.

"Flora please, whatever is wrong we can sort it out but only if we talk about it." Walter pleaded once more, causing the housekeeper to rest her hand on the door handle unsure whether she should open the door or not.

Part of her was screaming so loud to turn the key and throw herself into his arms but there was still these small nagging doubts at the back of the mind. What would happen afterward, what would he expect from her, not to go off with her friend but to wait patiently at home for him to return from India, and then what to marry and try for more children? But what if she failed, would his eyes drift on to other women, someone younger who could give him the son he so obviously craved? She still could not dismiss from her mind the scene of apparent tenderness between Walter and Bridgette in his office that morning. If he could lie so easily to her face deny that anything was going on when she had had confirmation of it by her very eyes, and the very words of his new lover, how could she believe a word he said?

"Flora god dammit I'm not joking any more you open this door or I swear I won't be responsible for the consequences….Flora please!" He added slamming his hands against the door in frustration, causing the housekeeper to jump back away from it.

For a moment she stood transfixed staring at the door unsure about what to do, then slowly she took a deep breath and letting it out slowly walked back over to it, one hand grasping the handle firmly the other turning the key in the lock, before opening the door wide and gazing out into the corridor.

For a moment she stood there in shock where was he, typically the moment she decided to give in was the moment he decided to give up. Glancing up and down the corridor Flora could catch no glimpse of the butler and so sighing to herself and consoling herself that perhaps it was for the best she slowly shut the door once more; unable to shift the growing feeling that her delay might have cost her more dearly than she could ever imagine.

By the time Frank comes out of hiding to return to the main house, all has fallen quiet, and the familiar creaks and groans of the great old building begin in earnest as it cools further and the frost sets hard and uncompromising outside. Rubbing his hands together, the valet tip-toes up the main stairs, stepping purposely to avoid the squeaks he had discovered while working there, until he hurries nervously along the corridor, stopping briefly by the newlywed's room to hear Lady Caroline bawling at Lord Julian, and the sound of breaking china against either the wall or poor Julian's head. With a snigger Frank decides not to intervene, thinking with glee that the night that fop manages to get her into bed may be the night that changes her forever. A good seeing to and a bit of manly assertion is just what that spoilt madam needs to calm her and make her learn just exactly who is in charge in their marriage - why doesn't he just slap her across the face and force himself on her, the spineless idiot?

When he finally reaches Lady Hamilton-Hussey's door, he straightens his neck tie, and with only the smallest of knocks pushes the door open. Immediately he sees his co-conspirator, sat in front of her mirror and brushing her hair. Smiling slightly wickedly, Franny glances at him via her mirror and beckons him to come over to her. Slowly Frank makes his way to her side, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth, as Franny spins around on his chair to look up at the handsome Irishman standing before her, still dressed in his full livery in case he is still required by Lord Julian at short notice.

Franny raising her eyebrows: So? What news, Mr Keneally?

Frank scratching his nose and folding his arms: Oh, well, she is still devastated, and now she says he forced himself on her a number of times, so much so she is surprised she's not with child. Even still she loves him, blah, blah, but there is no hope of reconciliation.

Franny nodding and pursing her lips: Excellent, and if she were to be with child then she would be disgraced, Hugo wouldn't have any more to do with the little strumpet and her bastard child! Good work Keneally. I don't think I want to know how you got it out of her, but it certainly seems she trusts you.

Franny stands and saunters behind Frank, brushing his arm then his bottom, eyeing him up furiously, right from his white stockings to his neatly cropped hair. Frank's grin of satisfaction fades as Lady Francesca pushes herself up against his back, her breath hot on the back of his neck

Franny running a finger along his collar: So, I suppose you'll be wanting your reward? How much did I say, £30?

Frank his voice amazingly steady under the circumstances as he stares straight ahead: I think you'll find it was £50.

Franny giggling and moving round to face him, her hand running along his jacket and up to his neck tie: Oh silly me, how could I forget? I can make it £80 if you like, I just want one last favour.

Frank backing away slightly, causing Franny to drop her hand: And what would that be?

Franny cocks her head to one side, twitching her left eyebrow and glances over at her bed, then back at Frank with a naughty twinkle in her eyes

Franny moving towards him again and lifting her head up so her lips are inches away from his: Oh I think you know. Lord Hamilton-Hussey is absent tonight, remember. I have the whole bed to myself.

Frank parting his lips, his eyes transfixed on hers: Your husband not, well, satisfying your needs, Lady Francesca?

Franny sliding her hand up inside his waistcoat: Well, he's not here, is he, so how could he possibly? I have born him children through necessity; I haven't had relations with him for fun you know. I have done my duty, and I know it well, but as for anything else – I have been a loyal wife to him in every way.

Frank smiling as Franny teasingly unbuttons his waistcoat: I don't doubt it, Lady Francesca. But now you feel you're owed your fun? With me?

Franny stroking a finger down his nose and lips and whispering: Something like that, yes. I am sure he has his loose women, so often I don't get to see him for weeks if he's away on business in Edinburgh, or even down here in London. I don't ask him what he gets up to, I don't want to know, but when he's with me I make sure he does as he's told, he's not all that bright really and he needs me. But you're just the bit of rough, as they call it, I'm looking for. I'm only 25, why should I not enjoy myself before I get too past it to care?

Frank hardly reacting as she unwraps his necktie: I thought you hated servants though, that's what Rebecca said. We're just dirt to you.

Franny untucking his shirt and running her nails up his bare back: That is correct, Mr Keneally, but it doesn't mean you don't serve your masters – or mistresses – well. You do my bidding then I will treat you in the manner you deserve.

Frank considers this for a moment, surely the money she is offering is too little for what she is after, and a woman in her position – who obviously holds the purse strings in her marriage – should be able to afford more, depending on how desperate she is, of course. And to Frank she seems very, very desperate. Surely there is no harm in bartering just a little? He had never had designs on Lady Francesca, and he still doesn't, but being paid well to have his pleasurable way with the younger sister of the most beautiful aristocrat this side of the Channel is an opportunity not to be missed. Frank isn't used to this, he is more familiar with paying out, either to some inexperienced 18 year old or some old, worn slapper for a quick one. The most high class he had ever been with was indeed Jarvis' old conquest Dirty Gertie, although he had been a bit liberal with the truth when he told him that he had been with her 'once', which should have been interpreted as 'two days ago'. She had nagged Frank the whole time about asking her favourite client when he would be returning to her as she hadn't seen him since New Year's day, so much so that Frank had left exasperated and completely unsatisfied after telling her to stop going on about him, Jarvis is too busy chasing fruitlessly after his housekeeper to bother with her any more and she'd better find herself a new principal benefactor.

Frank grunting and pursing his lips: Make it a round £100.

Franny breathing out sharply and blinking at his audacity: £100! And what makes you think you're worth that much! I'm sure I could have that William Forest for less if I asked!

Frank snorting in contempt: Yeah, you'd get him for about a guinea I reckon, flash him a bit of leg or anything else you fancy and he's yours for next to nothin', although he's been kicked in the essentials by Adams so often now I doubt he'd be of any use to you! But me, M'Lady, well, I can promise you for £100 I'll make it worth your while. I am your humble servant and will carry out your wishes in an exemplary manner. Take it or leave it.

Franny smiles and muses to herself, staring at him hard as if surveying a sculpture or a painting and deciding on whether to walk out the gallery due to extortionate overpricing or whether to indulge herself in a little bit of purchase therapy. With a satisfactory nod of the head, she sucks on her finger and giggles softly

Franny pulling open a drawer in her toilet: Very well then, Mr Keneally, £100 it is. Here's half now, and I'll pay you the rest afterwards, if you trust me to. This is so much fun, I've never bought someone for the night before, but probably best we keep it a verbal agreement rather than drawing up a contract, don't you think!

Frank sniggers slightly at Franny's poor attempt at humour in a situation which anyone with any decency would have frowned upon severely. Frank laughs a little harder at the thought of Jarvis finding out but without a shred of proof to go to Lord Julian with, how funny it would be to see the disgust on his face, the shock on Mrs Ryan's, while he just smirks at them and tells them to take their hypocrisy and go to hell. Frank kisses her firmly, and for once he feels complete contentment, the outside world has vanished for the night and he had just gone a long way in earning the first £100 of his life in what he considers the most easiest – and pleasurable – of fashions. And although Lady Francesca isn't the best conquest he could get as that is still yet to come, she is certainly worth a notch on the old Keneally bedpost. Who's had the last laugh now, Mr Jarvis?