The Lost Ancestor Read Online Free

watching as her shoes pressed perfectly into the fresh powder.
    ‘I don’t know.  Maybe.  Just
leave it, will you, Mary?’ Edith retorted.
     The twins wordlessly trudged towards
the dark entrance gates of Blackfriars, an icy wind carrying with it a fresh
flurry of snow, only adding to the chill steadily permeating the sisters’
clothing.
    Edith stopped at the open gates, took a
deep, chilly breath and began to walk towards the mansion with Mary a short
distance behind her.
    ‘Do you remember when we were little
girls, sitting in our bedroom pretending we were Lord and Lady Rothborne?’ Mary
asked with a smile, hoping to thaw the atmosphere between them.
    ‘We were young and silly,’ Edith retorted,
turning her attention to the large friary, which had at last come into
view.  The girls had been to the property on numerous prior occasions when
locals were invited by the benevolent hosts to tea dances, fêtes and charity
functions in the vast acres of Blackfriars.  Despite their familiarity,
whenever they saw the creamy-yellow Caen-stone building they were left in awe
and wonderment at what went on inside such a grand place.  Their cousin,
Edward, had worked at the property as a footman for a number of years and had
spoken of Blackfriars as if it were some exotic creature.  He had often
told them of the great extravagancies which took place there.  He had
described the sumptuous balls and elaborate birthday parties with such detail
as to fill the sisters with a deep envy.
    The girls neared the grand entrance where
fresh snow had begun to settle on the swept stone steps.  Remembering what
she had been told, Edith veered away from the front door.
    ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful just to waltz in
through the front door?’ Mary said.
    Edith didn’t answer, making her way over
to the side entrance to a plain wooden door.  With a short, cursory glance
at Mary, she knocked on the wrought-iron ring and waited.
    A great puff of warm air, laced with a
morning’s baking, wafted past Edith’s face as the door was pulled open. 
Standing in full smart uniform was Mrs Cuff, the housekeeper, with whom the
twins were acquainted from the village.  She was a tall lady with a
friendly, hospitable face.  Her dark hair was pulled neatly into a bun at
the back of her head.  ‘Come in, girls,’ she said, standing aside to allow
them in.
    Edith and Mary stepped into the welcome
embrace of the large kitchen, bustling with domestic servants busily performing
their duties.  The chef, a rotund man with a strong French accent and
little knowledge of the English language, was barking orders at three kitchen
maids who scuttled around the room like terrified mice.
    An impromptu smile crept up on Edith, as
for the first time in her life, she felt that she belonged: destiny wanted her to become a part—a small part, she knew—in the carefully
orchestrated running of Blackfriars House.  She had plans, definite, firm
plans which would see her rise through the ranks of the household staff. 
If she worked diligently, which she was certainly not afraid of doing, she
would be promoted to second, then first housemaid, then lady’s maid and would
eventually become a close confidante of Lady Rothborne.  In years to come,
she could be the housekeeper—the highest ranking female member of staff—and she would be the one to welcome new applicants to the post of third
housemaid.  She knew the job would be arduous with long hours and few
breaks but she would be paid the handsome sum of twenty pounds per year—far and
above anything she had ever earned before.  Finally, she would have the
independence that she craved.
    ‘I’ll take your coats, girls,’ Mrs Cuff
said, extending her arm expectantly.  ‘I’ll take you to Her Ladyship
momentarily.’
    Handing over their cold, damp coats, the
girls stood awkwardly and watched the comings and goings of the staff, who
seemed entirely oblivious to the new arrivals’ presence, each engrossed