Christmas Eve at Hembry Castle
Downstairs at Hembry Castle was all a bustle as it had been for weeks. Poor Mrs. Graham was dusted from her cap to her boots in thick white flour. The powder ingrained itself in every hair, every line on her face, every flourish on her apron, every crevice on the folds of her work dress. No matter how many times a day she washed, ten minutes later she was once again covered in chalky white. If it wasn’t “Pies!” it was “Cakes!” and if it wasn’t “Cakes!” it was “Puddings!” and if it wasn’t “Puddings!” it was “Pies!”
Everyone with flexible limbs who was not of the family or their guests was put to constant use throughout the day and night of Christmas Eve. This maid was needed to fix this green velvet holiday dress with the white fur collar, adjusting the bust
