When Ruby flushed and looked down Betty frowned. ‘She has been hurting you, hasn’t she?’ she said sharply.

‘Not too much,’ Ruby replied in a small voice and without a word she drew her sleeve up her arm.

Both Betty and Cook gasped with horror when they saw all the little bruises on Ruby’s skin. The other arm when she revealed it was no better and neither were her lower legs when she showed them where Miranda had kicked out at her.

‘She loses her temper very quickly and at the least little thing,’ Ruby admitted miserably. ‘If I don’t do a job quickly enough, or even if she catches me looking at her, she lashes out.’

Cook’s chest swelled to almost twice its already ample size as she drew in a deep breath. ‘Why! This is absolutely bloody disgustin’ an’ you can bet I shall be havin’ words wi’ Miss Wood about it the first chance I get. That little minx has got to be stopped in her tracks afore she does you serious harm. But why have you been puttin’ up with it? Why didn’t you say somethin’ afore?’

Ruby shrugged. ‘I have nowhere else to go so I don’t want to lose my job.’ She rose from her seat and after raising a smile for them both she slowly headed off to bed. At least there she was safe from Miranda’s spite.

*

Two days later, Ruby was carrying a load of Miranda’s dirty washing along the hallway on her way to the laundry room when she met the elderly Mr Pembroke for the first time. Susie, Mrs Pembroke’s lady’s maid, was helping him downstairs so he could spend a little time in the drawing room as he was feeling slightly better and Ruby hastily stood to one side to allow them to pass. He stopped abruptly to peer at her through the steel-framed spectacles that were perched on the end of his nose, and Ruby felt as if she was looking at an older version of the younger master. They were very alike.

‘And who are you then, m’dear?’

‘I’m Ruby, sir . . . Miss Miranda’s maid.’

‘Are you now.’ He stared at her for a few moments more then continued on his way, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Ruby fled. There was something about the way he had stared at her that had unnerved her slightly, but there was no time to dwell on it. Miranda had ordered her to go straight upstairs to help her dress and she knew better than to disobey.

When she appeared in the room some minutes later, Miranda was sitting on the stool in front of her dressing table. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she snapped. ‘I thought you were just nipping to the laundry. You could have washed and ironed everything in the time you’ve taken!’