I kept my pact with Mathias and didn't tell Doctor Ealing or Robert about the factory, or what really happened to both myself and Mathias. The temptation was there, I wanted to say it and get it out in the open once and for all, but I had to keep my promise. Mathias had been right, no one was going to believe us without proof and that was something we needed to get, though how we were going to get it was difficult. How could we prove what was really happening behind those gates if we were no longer within them? We had no contact with those we had left behind, no way of asking them to smuggle out some paperwork that confessed everything. Getting proof was going to be impossible.

The longer I thought about the sort of proof we could get, the more I wished I could get in contact with the other girls. With Isabel. If I could get in contact with them, find a way to get them a message, I could ask them to smuggle us something that could be used against the foreman. If they knew Mathias and I were still alive, that we had people we could trust to help us, they would help. I knew they would. Everyone wanted out of that factory, but we never knew if anyone had survived their dismissal. If we had known, we might have gotten out of there sooner, and without injury.

Still, my work at the Ealing's had to go on, even if I wanted to stop it in order to get a letter or some form of communication to the other girls. Even if it was just to let them know I was okay, I wished I could talk to them. Just once, to tell them I was alive, they needed that much at least.

"How did you get on yesterday?" Esther asked as we both worked in Doctor Ealing and Mrs Ealing's room the next morning. I had never stepped foot in their room and was surprised by how plain it seemed in comparison to the rest of the house.

"It was good, quite fun actually," I said, retying the rope that secured the curtains away from the window.

"I heard you ran into a friend from the workhouse whilst you were there."

"Not really a friend, we only saw each other once or twice as girls and boys were kept separately. It was good to see him, considering what had happened."

"Hm, Doctor Ealing mentioned he had lost part of his arm." She looked at my confused face. "They were talking about it during supper and I overheard. Master Robert didn't seem too pleased to have met him, though."

"He didn't seem to like him when they met, seems to think Mathias is hiding something, completely ridiculous if you ask me."

"I don't think that's the case, it seemed to me that he was jealous that you two knew each other," she said, a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips.

"He's not jealous," I said, heat creeping up my cheeks as Esther suppressed her laughter.

"Hm, you keep thinking that. Just be careful, Rosie."

I didn't respond, just kept my head down and continued the work we were supposed to be doing. Although I wasn't entirely sure what Esther was implying, I knew it was wrong. Mathias and I were friends, two people with shared experiences and both holding onto a secret that could ruin everything if it were to come out too soon. There was nothing to be jealous of, especially as our exchanges had been brief, one of which Robert had witnessed. The idea of being jealous of Mathias and I for any reason was ludicrous. I trusted Robert because he helped me when I thought no one else would, he was a friend and I couldn't see him as anything more than that. Even if I did, we could never be more than friends.

Finishing up in Doctor Ealing's room, Esther and I went our sperate ways, but her comment kept swirling through my head. Whilst I headed towards Charlotte's room to make her bed, Esther returned to the kitchens in order to help Miss Jenkins prepare luncheon. There was no way she was right on Robert. He mistrusted Mathias because he had never met him before because he didn't know that we had known each other before, that was all. It was never going to be more than a case of mistrust between the two of them, and Robert had every right not to trust Mathias. He also had every right not to trust me, but he didn't. At least I hoped he trusted me.

Whilst I rearranged the pillows on Charlotte's bed, my mind went back to the days in the factory where myself and some of the other girls would annoy Lucy because she was sweet of Mathias. Unlike the workhouses, girls and boys at the factory occasionally worked side-by-side, especially long into the night so we often had the opportunity to spend time with them. Lucy was always sweet on Mathias and we would tease her mercilessly for it, but at the same time, we thought it was cute. It made sense for Lucy to be the first one to know of Mathias' injury, the two of them were close and everyone knew that. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be stunned to see him alive and well after we all thought the worst.

So much would change if they knew we were both okay.

Sighing, I smoothed out the blankets that covered Charlotte's bed and left the room, heading down the hallway to Zachariah's room where he and Robert were playing with a wooden train. They were steering it across the floor and through stacks of books they had set up to mark the tracks that didn't really exist. As they were moving it, Robert was making small train noises and seemed to be having more fun with the train than Zachariah was.

"Rosie! We're playing trains," Zachariah said, grinning as he saw me standing in the doorway watching them.

"I can see that," I replied.

"Come and play with us!"

"As much as I would love to, I've got work to do."

"You're no fun." Zachariah pouted, his fist dropped from his lap to the floor in defeat.

"Yeah, Rosie, you're no fun!" Robert said, mimicking his younger brother and resisting a laugh as he did it.

"Don't encourage him," I replied. Shaking my head and smiling slightly.

Robert shrugged and went back to playing with the trains, pushing them along the flooring and making the same sounds he had been before. Crossing the room, I avoided the stacks of books that marked the train track and approached the bed. Whilst I tidied up the bed, rearranging the blankets and pillows as well as tying the curtains together with a strip of rope, Zachariah got up and grabbed a second train from his toy-box. He took his seat opposite Robert and started driving the train towards the other, copying the noises his brother was making. There was a sudden clatter as the two wooden trains collided, causing me to jump slightly.

Watching them out of the corner of my eye, Zachariah became almost hysterical with laughter at the site of the two trains lying side-by-side on the wooden floor. Robert shook his head at the sight of his brother and picked the two trains back up, sliding them across the floor and making the same noises he had been making since I entered the room. Zachariah had collapsed back against the floor, clutching his stomach as he continued to laugh at what he had done with the trains. Whilst I finished up straightening his bed, I wondered why he found the sight of two trains in a head-on collision as funny as he did.

"He does this all the time, I don't know why he thinks it's so funny," Robert said, rearranging the books to form a different track to follow.

"I can't really say anything about it, I used to do odd things as a child as well. Though mine involved eating anything I found in the garden," I said, shrugging slightly as I retied the rope that held the curtains back.

"Anything?"

"Anything and everything. I once ate a stinging nettle and cried for two hours because it hurt. No one told me the stung, even if the clue is in the name."

"How did you get away with eating one? We were never allowed in the garden on our own, though of course, not everyone obeyed that rule." Robert turned and raised an eyebrow at Zachariah who was still chuckling to himself.

"My brothers were supposed to be watching me but weren't. They were fighting each other so I was given free rein to wander the garden and eat anything I came across."

"You have brothers?"

It was then that I realised I might have said a little more than I intended to. My plan since the beginning was to try and keep the information about my family to a minimum as it would prompt questions that I didn't have answers to. I had already told Robert what had happened to my mother and he hadn't pressed any further than that, this new piece of information was certainly going to cause questions. It wasn't as though I didn't want to talk about my family, I did, but that topic wasn't one I was willing to cross into if it meant I could get found out. The story of the workhouse was that. A story, I hadn't thought too much of intricacies surrounding it. Especially when it came to my family.

Robert looked up at me expectantly as I played the end of the rope wrapped around the curtain. A thousand different thoughts were running through my head about how I was going to get myself out of this situation, but it was a hole I had dug myself and there was no way out. My only option was to tell a portion of the truth and hope he didn't press further. Robert wasn't in the habit of asking too my questions, he hadn't when we first met, and I hoped he would keep that up. My entire façade could collapse if he posed more questions then I could answer.

"Three of them, I'm the youngest," I said, trying to play it safe and hope he wouldn't pry much further.

"Where are they now?" Zachariah asked, having collected himself from his laughing. He was sat up watching Robert and me with one of his eyebrows raised, he looked like a younger version of Robert. That didn't make up for him asking the question I wanted to avoid.

"I don't know, I haven't seen them in seven years."

"Oh. Well, we can be your brothers!" Zachariah exclaimed, grinning up at me as though he had just had the greatest idea in the world. He reminded me so much of Isabel when she was younger, it almost broke my heart to see it.

"I think that's a great idea," I replied, smiling at him.

"Not even your family want you? Well, that's telling," Alexander's voice said from the doorway. He was standing against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"That's not nice," Zachariah said, frowning at him.

"I should go, I expect Miss Jenkins wants me for something," I muttered to Robert, dropping the rope and letting it swing.

Robert said nothing but both he and Zachariah glared at Alexander as he stepped just far enough for me to cross through the door and into the hallway. I turned and glanced back towards the room, watching Alexander step into Zachariah's room. Although I couldn't hear what was being said, Robert's voice was raised slightly, and he didn't sound happy. Still, as much as I wanted to stand around and listen to Robert put Alexander in his place, I knew Miss Jenkins was most likely waiting for me in the kitchen with my next job. She liked to keep me on my toes, no doubt making sure that my position wasn't at risk because of the small things that had happened.

Returning to the kitchen, Miss Jenkins and Esther were both elbow-deep in pastry as the moved it from giant bowls to the countertop that had already been sprinkled with a thin layer of flour. It looked as though they had made enough pastry to feed a whole family for a week as it was all dumped out onto the counter in giant piles. The table in the centre of the room was weighed down with pie dishes and on top of the stove sat the largest pot the family owned. It smelt of meat and gravy with vegetables cooking in the smaller pot beside it. Why they needed so many meat pies was a mystery to me, but I wasn't going to complain, it smelled really nice.

"Ah, Rosie. Do me a favour and wash and peel the potatoes in the crates. You've probably found out that we have guests for luncheon so we're going to need more food than usual," Miss Jenkins said, glancing up for only a second.

"Yes, Miss Jenkins."

Leaving the two of them in the kitchen, I stepped out of the doorway and into the pantry where a crate of potatoes lay in the middle of the floor, most likely having been brought in by Samuel whilst I was upstairs. I seized the two ends of the crate and hoisted it up, my arms straining under the weight of the potatoes. Moving quickly, I carried the crate into the kitchen and placed it onto the table, pushing it amongst all of the pie dishes on the table. I took a bowl from one of the cupboards and dumped several of the potatoes into it, washing them quickly and snatching a knife to peel the potatoes.

As I started to peel the skin off the potato with the knife, my mind went back to being with Mother at home, watching her cook meals for Christmas. I was always fascinated with how quickly she was able to peel a potato and I wanted to try myself, but she would never let me. Whilst my brothers might have been willing to let me put myself in danger, my mother would never let me do anything if it was dangerous. Instead, I would watch her peel potatoes and carrots for our Sunday lunches and special occasions, in awe at her skill. Standing in that kitchen with the knife and a crate full of potatoes made me feel like Mother. I just wished she was there to see me.

The three of us worked in silence. Miss Jenkins and Esther rolled their way through all of the pastry, pressing it into the pie dishes on the table. Once that was done, Miss Jenkins took the pot from the stove and scoped the contents into the dishes before sealing the top and throwing them into the oven. I continued the job of peeling the potatoes whilst Miss Jenkins placed them into a boiling pot of water as I finished the job. By the time I was done, the pile of potato peelings almost matched my height.

"Right, that's luncheon on the go. A little warning would have been nice, but that's the worst of it done. Rosie, if you and Esther could go and set the table. I have no need for you here for the time being," Miss Jenkins said, swiping a cloth across the countertop to clean up some of the flour.

"Very well. Just follow my lead, Rosie. You'll be fine," Esther said, smiling.

"Alright."

Leaving Miss Jenkins to clean up the mess left behind in the kitchen, Esther and I retreated up the stairs to the dining room where she started to instruct me on what to do. At the back of the room was a giant, wooden cabinet full of plates, cutlery, glasses and placemats. Everything had its place and its purpose, though I didn't know what half of it was for. Why someone needed so many knives and forks was a mystery, surely, they didn't all have a purpose. Of course, they did. I just didn't know what it was or why they were all necessary.

When we finished, the placemats, cutlery and plates were all lined up according to some chart that Miss Jenkins had drawn up several years before. It all seemed a little over the top and dramatic to me, a person needs one knife and one fork, not several. Nevertheless, I did as Esther instructed me and set the table, wanting to ask why it was all worth it for Mr Warrington and Alexander seeing as it looked as though no one in the family actually liked them. Of course, I wasn't one to judge and would never say that to their faces, but the effort we had to go to in order to please them just didn't sit well with me. Maybe I was holding a grudge.

"Is this the usual set-up for luncheon or is it more extravagant because Mr Warrington is here?" I asked Esther as we cleaned up and made our way back to the kitchen.

"It's a little more extravagant than usual, I'll admit. I expect everyone just wants to please Mr Warrington to try and minimise the ridicule that we'll no doubt get, even with a full table layout," Esther said, shrugging.

"So, it's all to set a pretence for the Warrington's?"

"I suppose so. It should be the last time we have to do it since they leave for India in just a few days. I'm sure Miss Jenkins will be glad to see the back of them, no surprise luncheon guests for one."

"Esther, you know the rules, no talking bad about our employers or their friends, anyone can hear. You know better than that," Miss Jenkins said, catching the end of our conversation as we entered the kitchen.

"Sorry, Miss Jenkins," Esther muttered, though she shot me a small smile when Miss Jenkins wasn't watching. Something told me that although the rule was there, no one really stuck to it, especially if they were out of the main house and safely tucked away in the kitchen.

"That goes for you as well, Rosie."

"Yes, Miss Jenkins."

"Good. You have been requested to serve luncheon with Esther this afternoon so re-pin your hair and brush yourself off, so you look presentable."

"Who requested me?"

"Mr Warrington."

~~~

A/N - Welcome back to Twenty-Five of The Factory Girl! There is a possibility we only have ten chapters (maybe less) to go! The thought is terrifying, but here we are!

Anyways, an interesting chapter for you all this week, we got a little more of Rosie's background and her brothers, Zachariah is just adorable, and Alexander's back... Why do you think Mr Warrington asked for Rosie to serve luncheon? What about Rosie keeping her promise to Mathis? Should she just tell him?

Comment your thoughts below!

Dedication - This chapter is dedicated to iMissRandomCutie who went on a vote spam on the book! It means a lot :)

First Published - March 5th, 2019