I turned on my heel and practically ran to the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. Rachel met me with a knowing look. "You okay?" she asked, her voice low.
I nodded, trying to compose myself. "I can't do this," I whispered, my eyes darting to the door. Rachel grabbed my arm, her grip firm. "You can, and you will," she said, her voice filled with a fiery determination. "We all have our stories here. You're not the only one with secrets."
Her words were a balm to my soul, and I felt a newfound strength in her touch. Rachel had been through hell and back, and she was still standing. If she could do it, so could I. I took a deep breath and nodded, squaring my shoulders. "Okay," I said, my voice stronger now. "Let's do this."
The rest of the night was a blur of serving, smiling, and biting my tongue. I ignored Mr. Harrison's furtive glances and Miss Adrianne's thinly veiled disdain. I focused on the task at hand, serving drinks and clearing plates, all while keeping my eyes firmly on Rachel's advice. The money was the priority, not the mess of feelings tangling me up inside.
When the guests finally left and the cleanup began, Rachel and I stole a moment in the quiet kitchen. She leaned against the counter, her eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and something else - something that looked suspiciously like hope. "We can do this, Emma," she whispered, her hand squeezing mine. "We're going to get through this and come out the other side, with enough to get away from all of this."
I looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of her words and the strength of her spirit. In that moment, I realized that Rachel wasn't just a co-worker, a fellow maid in this twisted place. She was a friend, a beacon of light in a world that seemed so dark. "Thank you, Rachel," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. "For everything."
Her smile grew a little softer, and she squeezed my hand back. "Now, come on," she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's go get everything arranged and go to bed."
I nodded and followed behind Rachel as we made our way through the mansion's grand halls, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The mansion felt eerie in the quiet of the night, the shadows dancing on the walls from the flickering candles casting a macabre glow. Rachel led me to the servant's quarters, a stark contrast to the opulent rooms where the Hathaways and their guests had feasted and cavorted.
The quarters were small and cramped, with rows of bunk beds lined against the walls, each with a simple dresser and a small table. Rachel gestured to one of the beds, the one closest to the door. "This one's yours," she said, her voice a mix of kindness and resignation. "You'll get used to it."
I nodded, trying to hide the sadness that washed over me. Rachel noticed and gave me a gentle smile. "Look, I know it's not what you're used to, but it's better than being out there." She waved a hand vaguely towards the mansion's main section. "Mr. Harrison's fiancée... she's not the type to appreciate us having the same privileges as her."
Her words stung, but I knew she was right. The mansion was a minefield of social hierarchies, and I had just been handed a map with a giant 'Do Not Cross' sign. "Thanks, Rachel," I murmured, taking a deep breath as I sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firmer than the one in Mr. Harrison's guest room, but it was still far more comfortable than any bed I'd slept in before coming here.
Rachel sat down next to me, her eyes searching my face. "What's your story, Emma?" she asked, her voice gentle, coaxing the words out of me like a skilled therapist. I took a moment, gathering my thoughts before I spoke, the words spilling out in a rush. I told her everything: my desperation, the job offer, and the unexpected twist my life had taken since setting foot in the Hathaway to Mr Harrison's mansion. Rachel listened without judgment, her expression a mix of sympathy and understanding.
Her eyes were soft and kind as she nodded. "We all have our reasons for being here," she said. "But what matters is that we stick together." Rachel's hand found mine on the bed, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You're not alone in this, you know. We all have to play our parts."
Her words resonated within me, and I felt a sudden surge of gratitude for this woman who had become my confidant, my ally in a place that had once felt so alien and terrifying. Without thinking, I leaned over and hugged her tight. Rachel stiffened for a moment, unused to such affection in this cold, detached environment, but then she wrapped her arms around me, holding me close.
As we sat there, sharing a rare moment of comfort in the stark reality of our lives, the door to our quarters swung open with a creak that seemed to echo through the silence. I pulled away from Rachel, my eyes wide with fear as Miss Adrianne walked in, her gaze flicking between us in surprise. She was dressed in a silk nightgown that clung to her curves, her hair cascading in loose waves down her back.
"I was looking for you, Emma," she said, her voice a cool whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. Rachel's grip on my hand tightened, a silent warning to stay strong.
Miss Adrianne looked around the room with a sharp look in her eyes. "I was hoping to find you in a more...interesting situation," she said, her eyes moving over us. Rachel moved away from me, standing straight like she was being polite.
I smiled, feeling nervous. "Can I help you with anything, Miss Adrianne?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.