Ivy tugged at her hair until wispy clumps escaped from the confines of her cap. Philomena could bear the tension no longer. “What on earth is it? I can see you have something to ask me.”

Ivy fidgeted even more until Philomena thought she would scream. “Excuse me, miss,” the scullery maid began, unusually polite. “I heard you were planning to take the air this afternoon.”

Philomena smiled. News travelled fast in the servants’ hall. She had mentioned plans for a walk only a few moments past, enquiring of Mrs. Bramble whether she supposed the bright weather would last.

Ivy twisted grimy hands together, catching up her apron and wringing it until it was a mass of creases. “W-w-would you be able to take something across to Jones’s farm?”

Philomena began to see where this was leading. Ivy took a keen interest in boys. There were few to be found in the village, but she had begun a flirtation with a certain Thomas. Thomas’ father worked on one of Lord Thatcham’s farms, and Thomas was planning to follow his father’s example. Philomena had once or twice noticed him lingering in the kitchen, delivering fresh vegetables and whispering with Ivy. She had a suspicion that the pair had embarked upon a semi-secret romance.

“Mrs. Bramble won’t let me have followers,” confided Ivy. “It’s not fair, because Daisy’s always going about with James, and nobody ever minds that. I can only see Thomas when I go over to Farmer Jones’s, which is hardly ever.” Philomena sympathised a little. The rules on servant behaviour were strict. Still, Ivy was only just into her teens and as foolish as a kitten.

“Your mother would want to know that you are being looked after properly,” Philomena pointed out.

Grudgingly, Ivy sighed. “We-ell, any road, it’s the beef, you see.”

Philomena frowned deeper. What did Ivy’s flirtations have to do with beef?

“There’s some beef left in the kitchen,” the girl went on. “Mrs. Bramble says that Lady Thatcham, Lord Thatcham’s mother that is, told her to send it over to the outdoor servants. I said, does that mean those that work over on Mr. Jones’s farm and she said, ‘Yes, it does.’” Ivy paused for breath.

“I suppose you would like me to take it across to the farm this afternoon? Is that it?” asked Philomena.

“Oh, miss, I’d be ever so grateful.” Ivy clasped her fists to her cheeks. “Really I would. And can you tell Thomas, if you see him…” She had the grace to blush. “Tell him that I asked Mrs. Bramble special, like, so he knows it’s from me?”

Solemnly, Philomena agreed to take her walk this afternoon across the fields to the farm. Joseph’s defeat had left her so relieved that she would have agreed to any favour.