Bridget could scarcely believe almost a week had passed since she’d arrived at Trystan’s home in Cornwall. The days had flown by with startling speed thanks to the intense lessons that kept her busy from dawn to well past dinner every night. On the sixth day, she awoke to the sound of Mrs. Story and the maid Marvella whispering excitedly to each other.
Marvella had been helping her dress each morning, and Bridget had formed an easy friendship with the young woman. But she was still far too sleepy to understand why the maid and the housekeeper were fussing about in the room while she was trying to sleep.
“They’re here, love. They’re here! Get out of bed, silly girl!” the housekeeper exclaimed as she and Marvella carried in a stack of large boxes. Silly girl was, as Bridget now understood,
