My eyelids fluttered open, allowing the intense sunlight to seep into them. Dancing amongst the furniture, the rays of light lingered in my dusty, cob webbed filled, attic bedroom. For a moment, I felt free and able to lie in bed all day until I realised what day today was. Saturday. For most people, it was a day for them to put their feet up, but such pleasures were reserved for the wealthy. So this morning I would have to slave away to prepare the master and mistress of this immaculate manor for pretty much anything. The things a scullery maid has to do these days.
Suddenly aware of fatigue (I was up late last night, due to a surprise visit from some of the Lord and Lady's posh friends), I splashed my olive brown, freckle nosed face with icy water. As it ran down my cheeks, I began to drag the comb through my mass of red hair. To be honest, a rake would've been better, but for health and safety purposes, I thought better of it. Anyway, there I was, attempting to look remotely human, when I heard a (very) pitchy voice shouting, "Eva! I need some help with the breakfast!"
"Coming, ma'm!" I half-heartedly replied. Mercy, the head maid, was not the kind of woman to be left waiting. Unless you wanted to be turned inside out and upside down. Believe me, I've been there already. You do not want to go there. So I, Eva Faith, would be sent on a voyage of discovery downstairs. . .