Elsie shoots you a conspiratorial wink.
The days pass, and Elsie always saves you the best leftover roast potatoes and cream cake from the master’s meals. One day, she shows you something twinkly and tiny nestled in her hand: a pair of cufflinks she has stolen from the master’s dressing-room.
‘What do you say?’ she asks. ‘Want to go into business with me?’
Elsie’s boyfriend Jack, you learn, has agreed to come to the back gate and spirit away any small, worthwhile items she can procure, to sell at the market for a good price.
‘Jack’s taking all the risk, really,’ says Elsie admiringly.
You’re not sure that’s true – she’s the one stealing things from under the master’s nose. Elsie wants you to carry the treasures down to the chicken pen at the bottom of the garden for her, as it’s your job to empty the vegetable peelings there.
‘Toss the trinkets over the back fence by the chicken pen, and Jack will pick them up,’ she says. Your face must look doubtful, because she goes on: ‘If anyone finds something in the bucket, just say you’ve no idea how it got there! Oh, come on – the master’s a murderous old sod, and he has more of these little baubles than he can count! I’ll give you a quarter of every pound we earn.’
Your heart races. If you said yes, you’d be rich in no time. Your part in the scheme would only be a small one, really… and soon you could travel along the Thames to find Da’s prison ship, and bribe a gaoler to let you see him.
But, you tell yourself, Mrs MacIntosh expects better of you… and stealing is wrong – although perhaps not quite as wrong as the fact that nasty, selfish people like the master are dripping with gold while poor people like yourself have none.
‘Will you do it?’ asks Elsie, her face alight.
To help Elsie with her thieving scheme, go to scene 9.
If you refuse to help Elsie steal, go to scene 8.
Elsie’s face turns stone-cold when you tell her you don’t want to partake in her thieving scheme. For a moment, there is a narrowness to her eyes that scares you, and you wonder if you’ve made an enemy. But then her face brightens, and she laughs and points at you.
‘Ha, tricked you! I’d never steal from the master – do you think I’m daft? I just wanted to see if you would.’ She chuckles as she walks away.
All right then, Elsie, you think as you watch her go. But what are you going to do with that pair of cufflinks I just saw you slip back into your pocket?
You don’t rat on Elsie – you feel a sense of solidarity with her and the other workers in the mansion, and besides, she’s still your friend. But from that point on, there is a definite cooling-off in her attitude towards you.
A few days later, you overhear Marion, the senior maid, tell Elsie she needs an extra pair of hands to help serve guests at the luncheon, and ask if you’d be a good choice. This would be a significant rise in your household status.
But Elsie replies loftily, ‘Oh, Marion, I wouldn’t trust that little child to carry a boiled egg and toast! Have you seen how careless she is in the kitchen? She drives poor Mrs MacIntosh half mad!’
Your ears burn. You’re not careless! You keep your conversations with Elsie to a minimum after that.
You’ve been at the mansion for two weeks, and are slowly repaying your debt to the MacIntoshes. One gusty winter’s day, you pop outside to empty the scraps. You stop by the stables, as you do nearly every day, to give the horses some apple cores. You love their snuffly hot noses nudging your hand, their gentle snorts, and their shining brown eyes.
‘Fancy I could let you ride one, if you’re keen,’ says Jeremy, the stableboy.
‘Really?’ you gasp.
‘Sure. They like you well enough.’ He shrugs. ‘What with all the treats you give them! I’d start you out on Minty; she’s a gentle old soul.’
You can hardly believe it! You are almost skipping back to the house when you hear wails and sobbing drifting from an upstairs window.
‘I’d never do something like that, master!’ squeals Elsie’s voice. ‘Honest to God, I’d sooner die!’
Uh-oh, you think, and your heart starts to race.
Elsie goes on: ‘Forgive me for speaking plainly, master, but you say this has been going on for a few weeks – and only one of us arrived in your service a few weeks ago. I know she’s naught but a little girl, but still, she’s shifty, and if you check her belongings, I’d wager you’ll find some of the items you’re missing…’
You rush to the kitchen and frantically start going through your belongings. Because suddenly you don’t trust Elsie further than you could kick her, and any moment now the master is going to—
Slam! The master is upon you like a wave of fury, his grey moustache seeming as though it could shoot sparks. He has you by the collar, and he’s snarling and baring his teeth like an organ-grinder’s monkey. ‘Where are they?’ he spits. ‘My wife’s earrings? Out with it!’
‘I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ you stammer.
But he twists the neck of your clothes tighter and shouts: ‘You were rifling through your belongings just then – trying to hide something!’
You only have one treasure you know of: your bracelet, sewn into the hem of your petticoat. How on earth will you explain that, let alone be allowed to keep it?
Elsie has followed the master downstairs. Her eyes are very bright. ‘Perhaps you should check the hem of her apron, sir?’ she suggests quietly. ‘I’ve heard thieves sometimes sew valuables in there.’
Your heart stops. The hem of your apron?
The master grabs the garment’s lower hem, without bothering to untie it from your waist
