Wiggs was in the kitchen as Sophie entered. Judging from the delicious smells emanating from the oven, she was baking bread. Sophie set her parcel down on the long oak table that the other servants dined at every night, and stretched her hands to the hearth’s blaze. She was soaking wet through and chilled to the bone, but a glow warmed her heart. She could not stop smiling, even as miserable as the cold and damp should make her feel. “Bless my soul, don’t you look a sight? Nancy, run upstairs and fetch something warm and dry for Miss Sophie—there’s a good gel.” The housekeeper dried her hands on her apron and shooed one of the kitchen maids upstairs. “Whatever happened to you?” “I got lost on the way to the haberdashers, and it began pouring,” Sophie replied with a chuckle. “Of course, in my haste to get the buttons and return home, I neglected to bring a parasol.” The housekeeper made a tsking sound under her breath, and stirred up the fire.
