That evening, Robert inspected the cut on my cheek and came to the same conclusion as Samuel; that it wasn't deep and might leave a scar. Other than inspecting the injury, he didn't say anything about what had happened. He barely spoke at all. Neither of us really knew what to say about it, we were both still processing the scale of the incident and for me, I was questioning whether or not it would happen again. No amount of reassurance from Miss Jenkins or Esther could settle the torrent of possibilities that circled my brain.

Sleeping felt like a distant memory and after several hours of tossing and turning, trying not to kick Esther in the process, I crawled out of the bed and made my way across the room. Although it was still dark, I dressed and pinned my hair up in its usual knot. On my way out of the room, I caught sight of my face in the mirror that rested on top of the chest of drawers that leant against the wall. My cheek was a dark purple, the mark of Doctor Ealing's ring prominent on my skin, the cut itself had bled slightly during my countless hours of movement causing dry blood to sit a top of the bruise.

I sighed to myself and crept silently from the room, climbing the stairs and heading to the kitchen which was bathed in the early morning light that was slipping through the darkness. At the sink, I lightly scrubbed the dried blood off my face and watched as it mixed with the water and washed away. In my head, I was washing away everything that had happened the previous day, the idea that by removing the blood I was removing any trace of what had happened, but that was never going to be the case.

I was never going to be able to remove any trace of the previous day's events. They were always going to be there, forever marking my face and reminding me how far someone would go to hold up appearances. The bruise would fade, maybe the scar would become nothing more than a thin line against my pale skin, but the memory would still be there. Somethings are easier to forget, like the things I did as a child, but the memory of someone you trusted hurting you in some way never really fades. Not really.

"What are you doing up so earlier? It's barely even daybreak," Miss Jenkins said, stepping into the kitchen and dumping a brown bag loaded with bread on the table.

"I couldn't sleep," I muttered, turning around.

"Your face looks worse than it did yesterday."

"Thank you, I appreciate the compliment." I rolled my eyes and dried my wet hands on a cloth.

"You know what I mean, Rosie. I knew it would bruise, but not that bad, even Doctor Ealing's ring is noticeable."

"It'll be gone within a few days."

"Hmm, still. I don't think it'll be good for the twins to see it, though I doubt Doctor Ealing would tell them what really happened."

"We could just tell them I fell, my boots are several sizes too big and they're falling apart, a perfect excuse for how I would have fallen and hit my face." I shrugged as if it was the simplest of solutions.

"It could work. You've put a lot of thought into that excuse." Miss Jenkins regarded me with a small tilt of her head, as though not entirely sure what to make of my comment or how quickly I had come up with the excuse in question.

"I said I couldn't sleep, gives someone a lot of thinking time."

"Right, well, as your awake, can you take these loaves into the pantry and bring me the one from yesterday?"

"Yes, of course."

Leaving Miss Jenkins in the kitchen, I grabbed the brown bag off the table and took it into the pantry, emptying it of the bread and swapping the new loaves out for the old. The old loaf had been cut in half, the other half having been eaten the previous day, most likely for breakfast. The smell of the bread and the other food types in the pantry was so overwhelming that I had to quickly leave the room to stop myself from eating it all in one go. Despite Miss Jenkins making me a sandwich the previous day, I had hardly eaten it and the next morning I was starving.

As I returned to the kitchen, I dumped the old loaf of bread onto the table and watched as Miss Jenkins pulled a pan out of the cupboard and put it on the stove. She produced a large, serrated edged knife from one of the drawers and carved the bread into slices, placing one of them onto the pan. I watched as the bread did nothing in the pan, waiting for Miss Jenkins to turn it over to reveal the toasted underside. Watching someone make toast was always my favourite thing to do as a child. I would stand in the kitchen in the morning and watch Mother make toast, it was the one thing she did on her own.

Miss Jenkins proceeded to flip the slice of bread one last time, waiting for it to crisp up before she slid the tray of butter towards her and slathered it onto the bread. My mouth watered as I watched the butter melt before a layer of jam was added over the top. She looked at me and smiled slightly before placing the toast onto a plate and sliding it over the table to me. I furrowed my eyebrows at her, wondering whether or not she intended for me to eat it or take it to someone. Although that thought was in my head, I knew no one else was awake yet, it was too early for anyone other me and Miss Jenkins.

"Take it, you barely ate anything last night and you do need food to function, despite what you might think," Miss Jenkins said, bushing the plate closer towards me.

"I've managed a full day's work on nothing before, so I'll be fine with only a few bites of a sandwich," I said, laughing slightly.

"That may have been the case in the past, but not now. Eat it."

"If you insist."

Grinning at Miss Jenkins I shoved almost half of the toast in my mouth at once, feeling the jam, butter and warm bread explode. After having not eaten much the previous day, the piece of toast was like heaven, though I said that about a lot of food. In the factory, it had always been different kinds of watered-down soup or porridge. It never tasted right and did very little to decrease the hunger we were all feeling, after a while, we learnt to ignore that feeling and just get on with what we had to do. Being at the Ealing's meant that I didn't have to fight the hunger feeling, and it was great.

Whilst I ate the rest of the toast, Miss Jenkins made several more pieces, giving another to me and placing the others on two other plates. As I started on the second piece, eating slower this time, Miss Jenkins left the room and I heard her footsteps retreat up the stairs to mine and Esther's room. Several seconds later she returned, and Esther followed not long after. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head as she entered the kitchen, pausing slightly as she noticed the bruise on the side of my face. Finishing up my second piece of toast, I dusted my hands off on my dress, ignoring the obvious blood stains that had dribbled down from my collar. Miss Jenkins seemed to notice them as well.

"We really need to get that dressed cleaned, Rosie, you can't walk around covered in blood."

"It's not like we have any other choices, this is the only dress I have," I said, shrugging.

"Maybe I can help with that," Matilda said, appearing in the doorway. If I didn't know any better, I would say she had been listening at the door this entire time, and she probably was. None of us had heard her coming.

"How do you mean, Miss?" Miss Jenkins said, furrowing her eyebrows as Matilda produced a piece of grey cloth from behind her back.

"I took this from a servant a few years ago and it's been hidden in my wardrobe ever since. I don't know if it will fit, but it will allow your dress to be cleaned if that's possible."

"Why on earth did you take one of our past servant's clothing?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you, it was that long ago. I hope it helps." Matilda handed the dress over to Esther who was standing nearer the door.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, I hope it fits."

With that, Matilda turned and left the room, leaving Esther standing with the dress draped over her arms. Miss Jenkins looked at me with a small tilt of her head and furrowed eyebrows, as though she wasn't entirely sure what to make of Matilda's actions. I wasn't too sure of it either. I know she meant well, but the idea of her being nice for no reason other than her own heart was strange, especially as she hadn't liked me in the past. There was something at the back of my mind that told me she felt sorry for what had happened the day before, it seemed that all I needed to do to get Matilda to be nice to me is to get hurt or soaked.

Esther handed me the dress and I slipped into the side room, quickly removing my blood-stained dress and replacing it with the grey one Matilda had borrowed. The dress was a little big compared to my other one, going just past my knees and stopping almost mid-shin. The sleeves hung off my arms a little too much, but it was better than being stained with blood and mud from the previous day. Grabbing my other dress, I carried it back into the kitchen and handed it over to Miss Jenkins who added it to the rest of the laundry.

"That's better, I'll see if I can get the blood out of it, if not you may have to stick with that one for a little while longer," she said.

"Okay."

"In the meantime, here is Master Robert's tray. He should be awake by now, especially if Miss Matilda's walking around."

"Are you sure? Can I not just stay down here for the time being?"

"You can't just hide away, Rosie. Doctor Ealing will be in his office for most of the day, so you won't come into contact with him if that's what you're afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Good, now off you go."

Sighing, I grabbed the handles of the tray and started the long walk upstairs to Robert's room, lightly drumming my fingers on the tray as I went. My plan had been to stay in the kitchen for as long as possible, waiting for the bruising and the scaring to go down before I make myself visible upstairs. It had nothing to do with Doctor Ealing, he didn't bother me in the slightest, it was the twins that worried me. The story I had concocted worked in theory, but the twins were far more intelligent than they were given credit for, they would see through the story in a matter of minutes.

I didn't want the twins to see what their father was capable of. As for Doctor Ealing, I was more than willing to go up to his face and show him the bruise, show him the damage he caused by trying to prove a point. At the factory, none of us had ever allowed the injuries inflicted by the foreman stop us from doing the work we had to do. When he would whip us, we would return to the factory floor and get on with our work, looking him in the eye as we walked through those doors. None of us allowed ourselves to be controlled by him because of his uses of violence, we were more definite because of it. Although it caused more injuries and more beatings, to know that nothing he could do would cause us to stand aside and admit defeat was worth any amount of beatings.

As I continued my way up the stairs and towards Robert's room, thin beams of sunlight were starting to break through the morning haze, lighting up the hallway in the bright morning sun. Resting the tray on the palm of my hands, I stood in a small strip of light and took a deep breath, closing my eyes and feeling the heat on my face and arms. It was those small moments in the Ealing household that reminded me of my freedom, but they always reminded me of what I had left behind at the factory. I couldn't escape the guilt at having left Isabel.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I lifted a hand and knocked on the door listening for Robert's response. When it came, I pushed open the door with my free hand and entered the room, surprised to find Robert already watching the door rather than doing something else. He was usually readjusting his shirt slightly when I entered, his focus was never on the door.

"I thought it would be you," Robert said, his eyes focused on the bruise on my cheek. I don't know if he was trying to be subtle, but he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"Bringing you your morning tea and toast seems to be a habit," I said, laughing slightly.

"Just put it down over there." Robert gestured to the side table where his tray was always kept.

"Okay." I crossed the room and put the tray down on the side table, moving the books rested on the top slightly, to stop the tray from toppling over.

"Can I take a look at the bruise? I just want to check that there isn't any damage below the skin."

"You checked last night."

"I know, humour me."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and pulled a face at Robert, but nonetheless obliged with his request and crossed the room to stand in front of Robert. He was only slightly taller than me, but he still tilted my head up slightly to get a better look at the bruising and cut that had become the most prominent feature on my face. Robert lightly pressed his fingers against the bruise, feeling for any damage to my cheek beyond the visible. I stood there, my eyes staring at the ceiling as Robert continued to lightly turn my head and poke at different parts of my face. Personally, I didn't see the point in any of it, but it seemed to make Robert feel better.

After what felt like an eternity, Robert released my chin and looked at me, furrowing his eyebrows together as though not sure what to make of the situation. Despite all the poking and prodding he had done to the bruise and the cut, I hadn't flinched and to a normal person, that had been a little weird. For me, pain was just an inconvenience and after dealing with it for so long, it no longer bothered me. Sometimes, it was a blessing as it meant I could deal with the foreman's abuse without batting an eyelid, but it was a curse if I ever accidentally injured myself because I would never know.

"Well, it doesn't look as though there is any damage to your cheekbone or the muscle underneath, there is just a fair amount of bruising." He paused. "I'm sorry that this happened, Rosie. I should have stopped him."

"You have nothing to apologise for. I doubt there was anything you could have done to stop him, at least without getting slapped yourself. What happened, happened and the only people to blame are Mr Warrington and Alexander for causing the situation in the first place."

"Still, Father had no right to do what he did, even Matilda agrees. She wants to bring a halt to the possibility of getting engaged to Alexander."

"Huh, I didn't see that one coming."

"I think Mother did. Ever since the water incident, she's been particularly against the idea, which is not like her, but Mother said it's been brewing for a while. She doesn't like the way he acts."

"Neither do I, but I thought it was important."

"It might have been, but there are some things even Matilda won't do."

The news of Matilda not wanting to get engaged to Alexander shocked me beyond belief. Since I met her, Matilda had always been about looking the part and living up to the pressures and standards of being who she was. Marrying Alexander Warrington would cement her place and keep the standards where they were supposed to be, going against that could throw a lot in jeopardy. Not just for Matilda, but for the whole of the Ealing family. If she didn't marry someone who was respected, the reputation for all of the family would be ruined. There was a lot resting on Matilda's shoulders and she was willing to throw it all away.

"I should return to the kitchen, Miss Jenkins probably has some task waiting for me," I said, breaking the silence.

"Alright, I will see you later on."

"Goodbye."

I left Robert standing in the same place he had been when I entered and left the room, closing the door behind me. Running my hands over my face, I started down the hallway and back towards the kitchen, walking slowly and lightly running my fingertips along the walls and bannisters as I went. Despite all that I had said earlier, placing the blame on Alexander and Mr Warrington, deep down I knew that Doctor Ealing played his part, but I didn't want to say that in front of Robert. Mr Warrington may have caused all the issues, but it was Doctor Ealing who had allowed it to get into his head.

Making my way down the hallways and towards the stairs that led to the kitchen, I heard the distant sound of footsteps as they made their way down the hallway and towards my position. I turned my head slightly and caught sight of Doctor Ealing moments before he disappeared into his office. He glanced at me for a second, his eyes scanning my face and the mark on my cheek before he quickly turned and entered his office, closing the door behind him without saying a word. I stayed watching that spot for a few moments longer before climbing the stairs back to the kitchen where Esther and Miss Jenkins and milling around, not really doing anything at all.

"We might have a problem," Miss Jenkins said, dropping a cloth onto the table.

"What sort of problem?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Doctor Ealing has decided that you and Esther will join the family on a day trip to London tomorrow."

"Why is that a problem?"

"You have a large bruise and a cut on your face, Rosie. I don't think he's doing it to be nice, I think he's doing it to prove a point."

"What sort of point?"

"That if he can slap you once to prove a point, he will do it again."

~~~

A/N - Okay, I'm gonna admit it, there aren't that many chapters left. I'm not sure how many but I'll try and sit down to figure out how many chapters we have left and with any luck, I'll let you know by the next chapter.

Anyway, we have some home truths delivered by Miss Jenkins this chapter and Robert being his usual, adorable self. What do you guys think is up with Matilda? Is she up to something or does she have a heart? What about Miss Jenkins and that last line? Some serious drama here!

I wanna know your predictions for the rest of the book! Comment them below

Dedication - This chapter is dedicated to RainbowK09876 who asked if they should be scared for the future and my answer is yes. Be terrified. 

First Published - March 26th, 2019