Christiana Willes, the new master’s son calls me. Willes for short, as they call boys at school, he says. I am as good as any fellow he knows. Better than most. I am now not just the upper housemaid, but also the chief cricket coach, and Sir Peregrine has personally raised my wages by two guineas a month. ‘What is a little dust,’ he asks rhetorically, ‘compared to a son getting his cricket Blue?’
But I know my place. Master Alfred tried to kiss me. He knows that if he tries again, I shall not teach him how to deal with the new way I have devised to make the ball spin when it hits the ground.
I would like to kiss him.
But I know that what that man did means I cannot ever kiss anyone or be kissed. Ever.
When Master Alfred goes back to Cambridge, there are more guineas in my box, another ball, and a pile of books he tells me I shall enjoy.
Though I have already read some of them, I relish every page.