Holidays were the best thing school ever invented. The last few weeks had shown Emma how much she loved the freedom that holidays offered. The days, spent from morning until night exploring, flew by. Most of the time, Emma spent at Harris Farm, which was just a short walk from the Abbey. It was a place full of life and adventure, where she and her best friend Ruby spent countless hours outdoors.
One sunny morning, Emma met Ruby in front of the farmhouse. Ruby grinned and proudly lifted the lid of a basket, revealing an assortment of homemade pastries, fresh berries, and lemonade. "Mum made these little tarts, and I picked some berries from the garden. And of course, there's lemonade."
Emma sniffed the enticing aroma of the pastries, hardly able to wait to take a bite. "This looks so delicious," she said.
"Just wait until you try the lemonade," Ruby replied proudly. "I helped make it!"
The two girls quickly packed up the picnic items and set off into the woods. The path was shady and cool, and the rustling of the leaves above them created a soothing background music. Ruby and Emma moved swiftly, sometimes climbing over fallen trees and crossing small streams. Their shoes got muddy, but they didn't mind in the slightest.
"Do you remember when we found the old oak tree last year?" asked Ruby as they hopped over a small brook.
"Of course!" replied Emma, laughing. "We declared it the throne of our forest kingdom!"
"And today, it will be our picnic spot," Ruby decided with a solemn nod.
After a while, they reached the clearing where the majestic old oak tree stood. Its broad branches provided perfect shade from the sun, and the grass beneath it was soft and inviting. The girls spread out a blanket and placed the picnic basket in the middle. They sat down, and Emma immediately reached for one of the tarts while Ruby poured the lemonade.
"Alright, let's talk about my dad and my mama," said Emma as she sat down expectantly opposite Mrs. Baxter. She had caught the maid in a quiet moment in the servants' hall.
"There isn't much to talk about. You already know everything I could have told you," replied Mrs. Baxter, slightly nervous. Emma scrutinised the maid intensely.
She hardly believed that Mrs. Baxter was telling the truth, "You know more than you're admitting," she pleaded, "Please, Mrs. Baxter! I want to know more about my mama, about her family, how she grew up and all that," and placed her mother's photograph on the table alongside the mysterious birthday card she had received on her 10th birthday.
"Do you know O.T.?" Emma asked hopefully.
Mrs. Baxter shook her head, "I'm sorry, Emma. I can't help you."
"Is O.T. related to my mama? What is my mama's last name?"
"Emma," said Mrs. Baxter, "I really like you, and you do remind me a lot of Martha, but what you're asking of me... I can't tell you. You should ask Thomas."
Emma sighed disappointedly, but another question crept into her mind, "Mrs. Baxter, did you know my mama as well as my dad did?"
Mrs. Baxter smiled, "I knew her very well, just as well as Thomas did."
"Do I have to call you Mrs. Baxter? You knew my parents; my mama better than I ever will, I don't want to call you Mrs. Baxter," Emma blurted out.
"Then call me Phyllis," Mrs. Baxter suggested with a smile.
Emma revealed a broad grin, "Phyllis, can you show me how this works?" she asked curiously, pointing at the electric sewing machine.
Phyllis smiled at Emma's sudden enthusiasm and nodded. "Of course." She pulled out the chair next to the machine, and Emma sat down with an expectant look.
"It's quite simple once you get the hang of it," explained Phyllis, beginning to outline the basic functions of the sewing machine. "This lever here raises and lowers the needle, and this foot pedal controls the speed." Emma listened attentively.
After Phyllis had shown her for a while how to join fabrics and finish seams neatly, she let Emma try for herself. With Phyllis's guidance, Emma managed to sew a simple seam.
"That wasn't so hard!" Emma exclaimed excitedly, proudly admiring her work.
Phyllis smiled. "You did very well, Emma – you seem to have your mother's talent."
"Did Mama know how to sew?" Emma marvelled.
"Very well indeed," confirmed Mrs. Baxter, just as Mr. Carson's angry voice echoed through the servants' quarters, "Emma Grace!"
"Oh," realised Emma, looking down at herself. Her boots were dirty, as was the floor where she had walked and stood.
Emma sat on the kitchen counter, eating an apple. She watched intently as Ivy, Daisy, and Mrs. Patmore argued. The dispute was about a letter from Alfred to Ivy, in which the former footman had proposed – how unromantic to propose in a letter – and Ivy had declined. Mrs. Patmore had been in on it, and Daisy had just found out. Emma couldn't understand why Daisy was still upset over Alfred. He had always been in love with Ivy.
A few days later, Alfred actually visited. By chance, Emma was in the kitchen again, helping Daisy bake a cake when the familiar voice of the former tall footman sounded.
"Hello Daisy, hello Ivy!" greeted Alfred.
"We all thought you wouldn't come," said Ivy.
"Oh, Mr. Carson warned me about the influenza."
Emma watched as Jimmy, Mrs. Hughes, and Mrs. Patmore entered the kitchen and silently observed the scene. She wondered what influenza Alfred was referring to; they were all healthy.
"What influenza?" asked Daisy, puzzled.
"Er, Mrs. Patmore and I think we have the influenza too, don't we?" Mrs. Hughes tried to save the situation.
"Yes, indeed. We wanted to spare Alfred if possible," agreed Mrs. Patmore.
"You look healthy to me," said Daisy.
"But appearances can be deceiving," countered Mrs. Hughes.
Emma continued munching on her apple, observing the adults with wide eyes. She understood that the influenza was just an excuse, but she didn't know exactly why Alfred wasn't supposed to come. Mr. Carson liked the tall footman very much and often patronised Alfred.
Ultimately, Emma would have preferred Alfred as an unwelcome visitor over the next one who followed. She sat in the servants' hall reading a letter from her father that had arrived by post.
Dear little dwarf,
New York is absolutely massive. Bigger and noisier than London. There's even a skyscraper—an incredibly tall building with over 50 floors. I'll tell you all about New York in detail when I get back.
I received a telegram this morning. Why didn't you remind me about your competition? Now everything makes sense—your sulky behaviour on the day of departure—but sadly, it wouldn't have changed the situation. I hope I can return in time. I don't want to miss your big performance at the competition! All because Bates didn't want to come—do you know why he didn't want to go?
Love you,
Dad
"What does your father say?" Daisy asked curiously.
"He says they've arrived safely in New York and that New York has a skyscraper with over 50 floors!"
"Well, we can consider ourselves lucky not to have to work there."
"There are elevators, Daisy" Mrs. Hughes explained.
"I wouldn't want to step into such devilish contraptions," Daisy said, shaking her head.
"I think I'm in the right place," grinned a familiar face. Emma's mood changed abruptly.
"Oh, it's Mr. Gillingham," Molesley noted. "Welcome. Please, have a seat."
Emma looked around desperately. She was sitting between Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, so nothing could go wrong as long as she clung to the two older ones.
"I assume you're here to bring some life back into the house," Mrs. Patmore smiled.
"Will you be playing Racing Demon with us again, Mr. Gillingham?" Jimmy asked hopefully.
"If you're up for it, I'd be happy to, but I imagine you all have a lot on your plate…" Mr. Green's voice trailed off as Anna interrupted, "Miss Baxter, could you possibly…" She broke off her sentence in shock. Mr. Green gave her a knowing wink.
"Emma," said Mr. Gillingham with a grin, "I've been longing to be alone with you," and pushed the girl against the wall. Emma wished she had magical abilities to fall through the wall into the next room.
"Please stay away from me." she whispered, trembling as she pressed herself even closer to the wall, unable to make herself any smaller. His hand slowly brushed along her cheek. In that moment, Emma thought only of the pain this man had inflicted on Anna not too long ago.
"Please stop," the girl whispered, her eyes tightly shut. The first tears began to stream down her face.
"Too bad for you. Looks like your daddy isn't here this time to keep me away from you," he snarled through clenched teeth. "I wonder if you told him what you saw the other day?"
"Please let me go. I haven't told anyone. Really, no one. I swear."
All he did was grin mischievously and press her even tighter against the wall. "Then you'll surely keep quiet about this too…"