Bridget had sensed the convivial atmosphere and seen how her mistress was basking in her success when silently serving the various courses, all of which boded well for the next little while. When one of the mistress’s social functions didn’t pass as smoothly as Mary would have liked, the whole household, but in particular Sophy, suffered the brunt of her frustration for days.
By the time the Williamsons’ carriage and pair and Dr Lawrence’s neat little pony and trap had been brought round to the front of the house from the stables by Patrick, it was clear that several members of the party were a little intoxicated. The women were giggling and fussing as Bridget helped them on with their coats and furs, and the men’s voices were over-hearty. The Williamsons and the Longhursts were travelling together, and Mary and Jeremiah walked the three couples across the drive to the waiting conveyances, but Dr Lawrence, who was slightly behind the others, stopped midway and came back to Bridget, who was standing in the doorway in case she was needed.
‘I forgot to give this to your mistress.’ He handed her a small slim package. ‘It’s just a little thing for the child, Sophy, but I wouldn’t like her to think I’ve forgotten her this year. She always writes such a formal little note of thanks. We don’t buy for the others’ children’ – he gestured with his head towards the group talking by the carriages – ‘so one has to be discreet, but as Sophy is our god-daughter . . .’
‘Of course, sir.’ Bridget dipped her knee as she took the gift and slipped it in her apron pocket, her mind racing as Dr Lawrence joined the others. Sophy had never received a present from Dr Lawrence and his wife and had certainly never written to thank them, so that meant . . . How could she? How could the mistress be so mean? To withhold the doctor’s presents like that, it was stealing, that’s what it was. Did the master know? And him a clergyman. But she wouldn’t put anything past the pair of them where that bairn was concerned, so why was she surprised? And even when Sophy was occasionally summoned to the drawing room with Patience when visitors arrived, ost ensibly to keep up the pretence that she was treated as a member of the family, she had noticed before that this never happened if the guest was Dr Lawrence. And now she knew why. He might mention something.
The carriage was drawing away, the trap following, and as a few desultory snowflakes drifted down in the bitterly cold night, Mary and Jeremiah walked towards the house. Bridget made up her mind quickly. She wouldn’t say a word about the present, not until she’d given it to Sophy anyway, and then she would mention it casually when she was serving the mistress’s elevenses in the morning room tomorrow. No doubt she would get into trouble, but that didn’t matter. She could make out that the doctor had given her the gift when she was busy with her duties, and she’d put it in her pocket and forgotten all about it till morning when she’d found it and given it to the bairn.
Mary and Jeremiah walked past her without acknowledging her presence, their personas having changed radically now there was no longer any need to keep up the pretence of being a happily married couple. However, Mary did manage a tight smile as she paused at the foot of the staircase to say, ‘Tell Cook the meal was most satisfactory, Bridget.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.’
‘The ladies on my committee for the Sunday School Christmas party will be meeting here at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Please see to it refreshments are served promptly at ten forty-five.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And the young masters will be home for the Christmas holidays in five days’ time. You may start airing their bedding tomorrow morning and lighting a fire in their rooms.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘That is all. Once you have put the drawing room to rights, you may retire.’
Considering it was nearly midnight, she should think so an’ all, Bridget thought, her voice without expression as she said again, ‘Yes, ma’am.’