The Maid

At the age of fourteen, I moved away from my family and took a job as a maid in a large estate.
I didn't know much about the history of the house or the family. Though I was aware of recent things, such as the house being remodelled last year and the new baby, Henrietta Cecil, being born. I knew how clueless I was even then, illiterate and naive, my other jobs had been far smaller. However, I would become accustomed to this house, although I was doubtful of this when I took that first trip up there. I rode in a horse and cart, observing all the things around me like a small child on a field trip. The estate was immense. The majority of it was field, then there was the castle, the church and the house. The castle was no longer used, the fourteen year old me had no idea why, but it was most probably to do with it wearing away. When I first arrived, the church was one of the things I was most curious about, because outsiders were not allowed to see it, only the family and those who worked in the house. The thought that I would now be able to see something that some people had dreamed of seeing made me ecstatic. Then I arrived at the house. I could think of no words to describe it as I gawked at it.
"This is the beginning."

My name I Margret Michael, proud maid of the estate. It was tiring and hard work, but it was work I was honoured to do. I loved my uniform, I black dress and a white apron and mop hat. But I didn't know that there were those who hated that, as one evening the second footman, Mr Evans, told me how foolish I was, thinking that I was part of this house and the family cared for us. It was true that I had grown to love the children, especially Henrietta, who I hope to once become a lady's maid for. His accusations and insults really hurt me, but it was Mr Allen, first footman, who stepped in.
He told Mr Evans that he was wrong. "Look me straight in the eye and tell me that there isn't love written all over Lady Henrietta's face when she sees Margret." He said. Mr Allen was a kind man, gentle and sweet, who tried to be fair to everybody, it was strange that I almost found his warm face as intimidating as an angry one. But he was my greatest friend, calling me from across the courtyard so he could join me on the way to church.

There was only one day that I made my way to that church unaccompanied by Mr Allen. Our wedding day. I wore a traditional white dress that I had saved up for, the family insisted that I use their church, I was the happiest I had ever be. When it came for me to sign the document, I couldn't write my name, so I had to draw a little 'x' which represented me.
In generations to come, that document would be the only thing that would tie me to this place. When my descendant of six generations would come here, she would only be able to imagine what my story was, as she observed a church completely over grown with weeds.