To the casual observer, it seemed like any other day in the Rochester household, at least below in the servants quarters. The cook pounded a thick pillow of dough into the worn oak table in the kitchen with meaty hands whilst the scullery maid washed the dishes from that morning's breakfast. The kitchen boy set down a crate of newly-delivered potatoes in the corner then chased the tabby cat that had been sniffing the air above the doorstep back out into the yard. The morning sunlight that filtered through the frosted diamond-paned windows glinted off the silver cutlery laid out on the sideboard to be polished and a housemaid appeared from the servant's staircase with a rag in hand. Though the low-ceilinged room was crowded, each of its occupants moved with a palpable sense of purpose, never colliding or getting in each others way, as if their activities had been honed by years of coordinated routine.

The door clattered open and a young man appeared in the doorway. Pushing a lock of dark hair out of his face, he traipsed across the kitchen, his boots shedding mud across the paving stones. His arms were laden with a neatly-folded uniform, a pair of polished dress boots balanced precariously on top.

"'Ere, you'd better get a move on, Will," said the cook, not turning around from where she was still furiously kneading her dough. "Miss's expected in a couple of minutes- Jacob ran ahead to tell'us all. The other footmen are all out already! What you been doing?"

"Helping Albert dig in the trellis for the rose garden," said Will, a little breathless from what had obviously been a sprint back from the gardens. He disappeared into the pantry and the sound of rustling fabric was audible from around the corner.

"Are you tryin' ta tempt us, William Northam," said the scullery maid, pausing and putting sud-soaked hands at her hips. "Don't you know it en't decent for a man to change in the presence of three ladies?"

"Well, I'd hardly call you three ladies but I'm not in your presence, am I?" called the unseen Will, a grin in his voice. "Unless you're peeking, Mary..."

"Me? I've got better taste than that, thank you very much," she snorted.

"Aye, better taste but better chances? I doubt it," said the cook, with a chortle. As Mary stuck her tongue out and went back to the dishes, Will emerged, fastening the gold buttons on the front of his uniform. He looked a far cry from the man who had entered just moments previously. Gone were the rough canvas trousers with the grass-stained knees, the soil-stained open-necked shirt and the mud-caked boots and in their place was a sharply-tailored navy jacket, gold frogging gleaming at his lapel, and black knee-high boots polished to a bright shine.

"Goodbye, ladies," he said, jogging back through the kitchen. He pulled open the door and, pausing only to position his bicorn hat over his dark hair, ran back towards the yard.

"I wonder if she'll be greatly changed," said the housemaid idly, once industrial silence had descended once again over the kitchen.

"Oh, you can never tell," said the cook, slapping the dough down into a loaf tin and standing back to admire her handiwork. "When these young ladies go away to be educated... Well, let's say all that learning and etiquette pushes out a few more important things out of their pretty little heads. Now, when-" She turned around and was confronted with the trail of mud Will had left on the floor. "Ooh, that boy will be sweeping my floor for months. I scrubbed those stones just this morning!"



Outside, Will managed to take his place next to the other three footmen with only a disapproving look from the butler, Mr Lewis. Standing to attention with the heels of his boots together, he could not help but glance at the open gateway. In the distance, the shape of a carriage materialised out of the bustle of London and Will found that he was nervous.

Carrie Rochester left the house at approximately 9:00 am that beautiful morning. She was finally going back home, back to the city, back to her father and all the people she'd left to receive a better education. For the last 10 years she'd been living in the country with her strict and law-abiding aunt; not to mention her three bitter-sweet cousins. Her and the slightly older females hadn't hit it off, Carrie having a love for adventures and make believe, her relatives wanting nothing more than to find loving and rich husbands. Carrie herself, held no interest in the matter.

As she climbed into the carriage that would take her to London, she didn't even bother to look back and wave at the people who'd held her prisoner for some of the most important years of her life. Her father had requested his daughter's return about a week ago and only now had she been allowed to leave and it certainly wasn't under good circumstances. Being a free spirit, Carrie had been wandering the moors earlier that morning and on her return, managed to traipse moody bootprints across the expensive Chinese rug her aunt had aquired early last summer. The older woman had gone a little crazy with anger, flinging her arms around in distaste. The exact words she used were:

"You ungrateful child! How must a young lady like yourself ever expect to find a fitting husband if her boots are caked in mud?"

"I am not ungrateful Aunt, nor do I wish to find a fitting husband. I just enjoy walking upon the hills. I'm sorry for ruining your carpet, at least I shall be out of your hair before nightfall."

And that's exactly what had happened. It took a good three hours for the towering buildings of London to come into view and at the thought of seeing her father, Carrie's heartbeat picked up. It had been so long; she just wanted to be with the people that she loved.

Somewhere in the back of Carrie's mind, there was another person who she was really looking forward to seeing; that was if he still worked in her father's household. As a child, she'd always spent her time exploring the house with none other than the butler's son, William Northam. He'd been one of the people that she'd missed most in her absence and one of the people who she was most looking forward to seeing again. She just prayed to god that he would still be within residence of her family's home.

Once the carriage had trundled a little way through the poorer parts of town, it turned onto a larger street where the houses were noticably grander. Slightly futher down, they became detatched, some with little front gardens, others decorated with small fountains. On the opposite side of the road lay a beautiful park, cherry blossom trees decorating the street with what looked like pink snow.

And then it came into view. Carrie couldn't hold herself still as her foot tapped urgently against the bottom of the carriage. It was her home! The place she'd grown to love so dearly within the time that's she'd been away. When the horses pulled to a stop, the door to her carriage was opened and a scrawny pale hand held out for her to take. Carrie did so, lifting up the front of her skirt so that it wouldn't get trapped under her boot as she stepped down from the vehicle. The 18 year old was greeted by three footmen and a maid, all waiting to take her inside. She noticed he butler stood to one side, ignoring an older man as he tried to usher her towards the house.

"Mr Lewis! It's good to see you again," The male took Carrie's hand and gently brushed his lips against her gloved knuckles.

"As it is you ma'am." Carrie couldn't help but smile as she glanced towards the house.

"May I ask you a question, Mr Lewis?" She lowered her voice ever so slightly, ignoring a tut that echoed from the same older man that wanted her to go inside.

"Of course, ma'am."

"Does William Northam still work here?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Where is he?"

"Stood next to you ma'am."

Carrie's eyes obviously widened as she took in the handsome dark haired figure in uniform that was stood to attention a little to her right. She took a couple of dainty steps in his direction, coming to a stop infront of him.
"William Northam? Will?" She asked softly, her pale green eyes studying his familiar features. "It's really is you! My, how you've grown!" A small smile spread across Carrie's lips at the sight of her friend and how she wished to take his hands in hers, to hold them like they used to when they were younger. But before she could take action, a booming voice sounded from the doorway.

"Carrie my beautiful daughter! Welcome home, lass!"
"Father!" Smiling once more at William, she quickly moved away from him and into the arms of the parent who she'd also missed during her stay in the countryside.

Though Will remained standing to attention, perfectly in line with the other footmen, he could not help but let his gaze be drawn to the figure emerging from the carriage. Truthfully, he didn't recognise her, so far removed from the seven year old with the flying auburn curls who'd played hide-and-seek with him in the empty North Wing of the house was the beautiful young woman stepping down onto the gravel.

And she was beautiful. It was as if she had walked straight out of one of the paintings that hung in the drawing room; her translucent skin might have been dabbed thinly over canvas and the hint of copper in her hair when it caught the sun might have drawn with the finest of brushes. There was an elegance to the line of her figure and expression that was a million miles away to the rosy-cheeked, laughing and gossiping maids of the household or the worn, suspicious-eyed girls that he saw on the street in the poorer neighbourhoods.

He watched as she drew Lewis to one side to talk to him in quiet tones but made no move to greet her. He was a servant, after all, and she would now be well-versed in social etiquette. Not to mention the butler would probably dock him a day's pay for such impropriety. She might not even remember him.

But to his mild surprise and pleasure, she did. She approached him and, now she was closer, he could see that something recognisable as his childhood friend did remain in her features.

"I might say the same to you, miss," Will replied, with a grin. The other footmen glanced at him, confused as to why he was being singled out for a personal greeting. Only the older servants remembered that old Jeremiah Northam's boy used to play with the master's youngest daughter after her teaching in the nursery in the morning and Will had thought it too inconsequential to mention to anyone else. What would have been the use if she had forgotten all about him?

They interrupted by the loud arrival of her father and, with a nod from Lewis, he and the other footmen began unloading the carriage of all the trunks Carrie had brought back with her.

Behind him, Margaret Rochester watched her little sister embrace her father with fondness.

"Oh, Carrie, I am so glad you're home," she said, drawing her into a hug of her own. "Now all I shall have to endure for your company is a walk through the house rather than a three hour coach ride. Now come, Lydia, say hello to your Aunt Carrie," she added. From behind the sturdy oak doors that lead into the main hallway, a head cautiously peeked. Margaret's daughter was led out onto the driveway by the firm hand of Mrs White who gave her former ward a hearty smile and pushed her niece towards her.

"There you are, Lydia. Do as your mother says. I used to look after your Aunty when she was your age, you know," she added, with a wink at Carrie.

Lydia, clutching a handful of Mrs White's skirt in her fist, looked up at Carrie. "'Ello," she said, wide-eyed.

As Carrie stepped into the strong arms of her father, she noticed Margaret had come into view behind him.

"So am I, Margaret. I missed you since your last visit to the countryside." Carrie hugged her sibling, happy to be back in the company of people whom she loved and who loved her in return. It had definately been too long since she'd visited the place she'd grown up in. "And I bet you shall be better for it too," the 18 year old remarked in reponse to her sister's comment of travel. But before she could say anything more a beautiful young child stepped around the dark haired beauty, revealing the sweetest little face Carrie had ever laid eyes upon.

She leant down slightly to the child's level so that their gazes met with ease. "Hello Lydia. It's really lovely to meet such a beautiful young lady," Carrie smiled and kissed the child gently on the forehead before straightening up once more. Stupidly she felt tears in her eyes, tears of joy at how wonderful it was to be home and tears of sorrow for the time she'd missed with her niece. "Margaret, you have such a beautiful daughter. You must be very proud." Carrie feebly wiped at her eyes with a hankerchief, offering her sister a shaky smile before noticing her former nurse.

"Oh, Mrs White! How I missed you!" Carrie moved over to the older woman, placing a kiss on her cheek. "And such a fine job you did too," she grinned in reply to the nanny's wink.

"Now, now ladies. Has it been so long that you cann'y keep idle chatter to the drawing rooms? Let Carrie rest for a while, I'm sure daughter you've had a tiring journey."

In reponse, the auburn-haired girl rolled her eyes and took her father's huge hand in her own dainty two. "You have not changed much," she smiled softly, tightening her grip on him before heading towards the stairs. "I shall rest for a while, but I will be down for dinner. It was so lovely seeing you all again." And with that, she turned and steadily started up the steps, keeping a hand on the banister rail as she went.

Once her room came into view, Carrie pratically ran towards the wooden door, flinging it open and standing in the doorway as she took in the walls, the carpet, the rug. Nothing had been touched since she left, not even a single piece of furniture. Carrie was sure this was her father's doing; Mrs Wentwoth had been admamant that they were going to make the room into a study. Smiling to herself at the thought of Mrs Wentworth not getting her own way for once, Carrie sat down on the edge of her bed, simply taking in the smell of the place as she tugged off her lace gloves and removed the silk shawl that had been wrapped around her shoulders.

The footmen moved in and out of the room with her cases and she thanked each one in turn, however, there was only one of the men that she particularly wanted to see. She was sure that William would fill her in on what had been going on around the place since her departure and Carrie had decided before she even boarded the carridge this morning that she would need to know of events if she were going to get back into the swing of society once more.

Will glimpsed the reunion of the long-parted family as, hefting one of the trunks onto his shoulder, he went inside the house to take them up to Carrie's room. His own family was small; his father had retired from service of the Rochesters several years ago and lived, with his mother, in the East End. Though he saw them every couple of weeks, his visits were never for very long as the manor house was on the other side of the city and his free time restricted to Sundays.

He set the heavy trunk down at the foot of the bed whilst behind him Carrie entered her old room and drank in her familiar surroundings. The room had been opened up for the first time in years just yesterday and, from the barrage of complaints that filled the kitchen afterwards, Will gathered the two housemaids had spent most of their day dusting it. But now it was as if she had never left and Will recognised the ornate dresser and the cascades of fabric falling from the four poster bed from his surreptitious peeks inside when he was a boy (which had invariably ended in discovery by one of the maids and a thorough scolding by his father).

"Thank you, Will, Robert, you may go," smiled Margaret, who had appeared in the doorway, to the two footmen. Shooting a glance back at Carrie, Will gave a short bow and followed the other servant out of the room. He was disappointed but not surprised. No doubt the two sisters wished to catch up. Maybe she'd come to see him down in the servants' quarters once she'd finished her dinner. Maybe, when not under the watchful eye of Mr Lewis, he might even offer to help the gardener tomorrow morning in order to intercept her on her constitutional around the manor gardens.

With this prospect in mind and with little thought as to how much trouble he would be in should it come to fruition, Will went downstairs to the kitchen to eat his own dinner of the stew the cook had set to simmer that afternoon.


Back in Carrie's room, Margaret sat down on the bed next to her sister. Having lived so long in the house in Carrie's absence, she had quite forgotten that her younger sister and Will had been childhood playmates, though she might not have thought it proper for them to resume their friendship had she remembered. So, she paid no thought to the footman who had just left and took Carrie's hand in her own.

"You know that father is throwing a ball tomorrow evening to welcome you back into Kensington society, Carrie? I came up to tell you now because I know you shall require the maximum amount of time possible to select a dress to wear," she joked gently. "And I do apologise for Douglas's absence." Douglas Pembrey was Margaret's husband and Carrie's brother-in-law. "He's in the City on business tonight but he is returning in time for your ball."

Carrie tried to force a smile as Margaret appeared in the doorway; she was happy to see her sister, but she'd had visits from her at her aunt's house. William on the other hand, she hadn't seen in years and she wanted to catch up with her old childhood friend. He was one of the only other people when she was younger that seemed to enjoy her free spirit, whereas Carrie's father and her siblings had always tried to keep her in line and uphold the laws of society. She watched Will leave, giving him a small smile before he left the room.

When Margaret took Carrie's hand in her own, she glanced up at her sister, taking in the familiar features there. She saw so much of herself in the older looking face infront of her, but it was almost as if that part of Margaret had been restrained over the years; her conclusion could have been wrong, but she knew one thing for certain; she wouldn't be tied down to society if it meant that she'd become unhappy.

"Oh, he is?" The younger of the two didn't hide her suprise; she had only expected a short welcome home tea party not a grand ball to celebrate her return. At the mention of selecting a dress though, she couldn't help but smile in thinking of the fun she and her sibling would have whilst searching through her wardrobe of material possessions.

"It is no problem, Margaret. I know you're husband is a very busy man; I would not wish to drag him away from any important meetings he may have," she said with a smile, in reply to her sister's apology. "I shall look forward to seeing him after he returns; it certainly has been a while," she added.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the back of Carrie's mind, she couldn't help but run over some more of the words her beloved aunt had left her with.
"You shall attend many balls child, all with which will be filled with suitors that your father may wish for you to marry. It is important that you act as you should; be polite, well-mannered, kind. One of those men may one day become your husband and your first impressions are the most important..."

The thought of finding herself a husband caused Carrie a great discomfort; she had never been interested in such petty subjects. If she had a husband, she wouldn't be able to wander the gardens freely, visit the park opposite her home when she wanted. She'd be taken away from the house that she loved before she'd even gotten used to being at home again.

Trying to clear her mind, the 18 year old glanced at her sister once more, offering a forced smile. "Who, other than our family shall be attending my ball?" She asked gently, hoping there weren't to be too many guests.

Margaret smiled a restrained smile at her sister's profession she would look forward to the return of her husband. Douglas had taken little notice of the news of Carrie's imminent return, indeed had only met her on one or two brief occasions before. Though civil enough to the other members of the household, he rarely sought out their company, taking refuge in his work or venturing out into the city to spend time at private member's clubs. There was no reason her sister should be any different. The arrival of a new servant might have had a similar impact.

"Oh, a few!" she replied, misinterpreting her sister's misapprehension for natural nervousness. "But do not worry, they are all amiable people. And some of them amiable young gentlemen too," she added, nudging her with another smile, this one less guarded and more girlish.

It had been a while since Margaret's own entry into society and, as content as she was to stand back from the whirl and liveliness of her youth, she did miss a little of the excitement. With Carrie here and with so much ahead of her, Margaret looked forward to seeing her sister blossom into the young woman she had always known she had the potential to be: beautiful, with a lightness of mind that came easily to her and a ladylike grace and poise that did not.

"I believe father has been very emphatic that Mr Herald, that is to say, Victor Herald, his protege, must be invited," she said. "He's about your age, so I am sure you will find talking to him enjoyable. And, though I couldn't possibly comment myself, being a married woman," she joked, gently, "I have heard other young ladies say that looking at him is enjoyable too."

"Now, are you ready to come down for supper?" she said, standing up and adjusting her skirts. "The cook has prepared quite the spread in your honour..."

When Margaret mentioned that there were a few people attending, Carrie couldn't stop her heart from fluttering slightly. She'd grown to learn over the years that she wasn't brilliant in amongst large groups of people, often getting flustered and quite confused with herself. Socialising wasn't something that came naturally to her, something, which many lessons with her aunt had proved.

"Oh. I suppose father would like me to spend most of the night speaking to them," she giggled back, but the sound was more out of nervousness than enjoyment. Carrie knew that she wasn't much interested in marrying quite yet, but obviously her family had other ideas for her. When her aunt had told her that she were to marry back into society, she'd half hoped that that formiddable woman would have had a different view in mind than her relatives, but obviously that wasn't quite the case.

"Mr Herald.. Hmm. I cannot say that I recall the name, have we met before?" Carrie asked innocently, raking through memories. She'd definately have to prepare for meeting a lot of new people and hoped that there might be a couple of familiar faces attending so that she wouldn't have to spend the whole night making pleasantries and first impressions.

"Well if he is easy on the eyes, I suppose that shall make conversing with him a lot easier if I do say so myself," she teased back, her mood perking up with the mention of food. "I am, it's been a long while since I had a family meal." She smiled softly at her sister and raised herself from the bed a couple of seconds after Margaret.

"A spread? That sounds wonderful," the 18 year old smiled, eyes lighting up. "Come on. We'd better not keep them waiting much longer," Carrie took her sister's hand in her own and started off out of the door, delicately making her way down the stairs, other hand rested on the banister rail.

Waiting for them at the bottom, stood Mr Rochester, hands hooked into the pockets of his waistcoat. "Ahh, daughters, there you are! The food has been served. We were awaiting your attendance."

"I apologize father for keeping you waiting. As sisters we had a lot to catch up on since my absence."

"It isn't such a big worry Carrie. Come now, let us enjoy the wonderful meal cook has prepared for us."

And with that the older male walked off towards the dining room, followed by his two daughters.