The maid had opened the main door to Helen Daniels, shown the stable girl into the spacious lounge then discreetly retired. Helen had no idea why she had been summoned to the big house. Living in rooms above the stables like the other girls and lads who tended the race horses owned by Lady Marsha Tewkesury, this was a rare treat, to glimpse how the rich and privileged lived.
The girl gasped. She hadn’t heard anyone enter, yet Lady Marsha was suddenly there, clad as was usual during the day in riding gear of hacking jacket and jodhpurs. ‘So,’ the elegant woman said in her refined tones, ‘you are Helen Daniels.’
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