Weston House Early August, 1800 Late Morning
Sophia spit into the porcelain basin, attempting to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She had been sick of a week, even after changing some of her diet so it was more bland than usual, nothing was helping. The blonde let out a long sigh as she looked up into the mirror on her wash station. She looked pale, and tired. Whatever was going on with her was taking it’s toll.
“Bridget, more water please.” She let out, not even allowing the young maid to get a word out as she walked into Sophia’s chambers.
~ ~ ~
“She’s been sick again,” Bridget got out as she began to fill a jug of water.
“What, again? That’s the eighth day in a row now.” Margey quipped, the older woman shaking her head over the pot of soup that was steaming.
“You all know why, don’t ye?” Another voice quipped, causing both Bridget and Margey to glance over.
Charity was seated at the table, peeling potatoes for the broth Margey was practically steaming over.
“Why don’t you enlighten us” Margey replied, chuckling slightly. The woman have never really liked Charity, but she was a fine worker.
“The Frenchman’s put a babe in her belly. You know well as I, they ‘ave been together. Why, Bridget walked in on ‘em, did ye not?” Charity turned the attention to Bridget, causing the petite blonde to freeze mid-pump.
“Bridget, you never!” Margey exclaimed, the womans loyalty to the Westons showing through slightly.
Bridget flushed a deep red and she began to furiously pump the water once more. No doubt rushing to get out of the kitchen.
“Oh aye, she told me all about it. The missus had ‘im tied up and all sorts. No wonder she’s feeling as sick as a dog. I’d reckon there’ll be a babe here shortly after the new year.”
Bridget said nothing, save for a small squeak as she exited the kitchen. Margey on the other hand turned to Charity, pinning her down with a cold stare.
“I’ll hear nothing bad of Miss Sophia. You understand? And I’ll not have you going ‘round telling all your friends neither. She’s a good mistress, and she’s had a mighty hard go of it.” The older woman paused as Charity put her potato down.
“I’d do no such thing, She’s a good’en and I’d rather not be tossed out.”
With an exasperated huff, Margey waved her off. “Get back to the potatoes, the soup should be ‘alf done by now!”














