Edward floored the 1920’s Mercedes faster down the country road. In a blur the car flew through the rural countryside of Southern England. The usual driver of the Harrington Family’s car, old Tom, sat in the unfamiliar passenger seat with one hand holding his hat in place with the other clutching the side of the Mercedes with dare life.

“Mister Harrington, please can you slow down,” old Tom yelled over the noise of the engine and wind. Edward turned his attention away from the road and flashed the older man a smile.

“Are you telling me that you haven’t taken this beauty for a true spin?”

“Jesus! Keep your eyes on the road!” Tom yelled in terror. Edward laughed as he swerved past a horse and carriage with an angry driver cursing them as they flew past. Tom had been a fixture in his Family’s staff for as long as he remembered, bordering on twenty years. Now well into his fifties, he had entered the service of his Father following the purchase of their first car at the turn of the century.

The Mercedes skidded off the road into the driveway of the Harrington’s Estate. The gravel road leading to the Grand estate no excuse for Edward to push the limits of his Father’s new car even further. As he approached the Grand Mansion he slammed the car to a skidding halt outside the front entrance. Edward turned to his passenger and patted the old servant on the knee.

“You still alive Tom?” He laughed seeing the colour drained from the old man’s cheeks and his hat long gone from his head.

The young man jumped out of the car and made his way to the trunk of the car and picked up his case. He hadn’t allowed a servant to carry his belongings for nearly ten years, just because he was returning home he wasn’t planning on starting that habit. He climbed the stairs with a spring in his step.

The footman, who hadn’t expected his arrival for another hour, dishevelled and flustered rushed to open the door for the young master. Even being the Estate of his Father’s and had spent the first thirteen years of his life running through these halls, Edward felt very much the stranger. As soon as he was of age, his Father sent him off to Eton, followed by four years at Oxford. A tradition among the male members of their Family, that according to Father, stretched back hundreds of years. What wasn’t tradition was the four and a half year war that followed his time at college.

The war, though laying wreck to England, his Father liked to lament on the ruin it had done to his own Family. His second oldest died at the Battle of the Somme ten kms from the front by an artillery shell. His oldest, a member of Parliament caught the Spanish Flu and passed a mere two months following the conclusion of the great war. At the despair of Richard Harrington, the 6th Earl of Kent, his title and inheritance was destined to his remaining son Edward.

The footman had now scurried off in search of the Family as Edward placed his suitcase on the polished marble floor and removed the riding cap to reveal a head of medium length brown hair.

"I'm not sure that should be green.. Does that look green to you?"

"It's definitely green. How did you dye it green?!"

"I think it might have been the string I used to tie the herbs." Heidi's cheeks flushed a vibrant red as she shot a sideways glance in Neave's direction. The redhead raised her eyebrows in cautious curiosity, "What string did you use?"

"Garden twine.."

The two maids dissolved into laughter. Had Molly the cook been there, green chicken soup would not have been a laughing matter, but in her absence it was bloody hilarious.

"You're going to have to hide the evidence before Molly gets back. Have you got time to make a new batch?"

Heidi nodded at her Irish friend, "I think I can knock some more out before supper. Could you pop and get me some thyme from the garden? Oh and some chives.. And possibly.."

"I'll get you one of everything!"

And with the click of the kitchen door, Neave disapeared outside. Six months she'd been working for the Harrington family now, and she was finally feeling settled. At only just twenty, the position was her first away from home. Leaving Cork in Ireland had been a real wrench, but she was loving England and the people that she spent her time with. As a daily maid, she kept busy. The list of jobs was a long one, and she did everything from making the beds, to serving dinner.

The fresh air was a welcomed change from the stuffy atmosphere of the kitchen. How Heidi managed to stay in there all day, was absolutely mind boggling. Neave loved to be outside in nature. The scent of roses and honeysuckle from the courtyard garden hung in the air, and it was calm and peaceful.

Neave wandered her way to the kitchen garden, wicker basket in hand. The young woman's red hair was plaited neatly and draped down over her shoulder, a white headband kept it all in place. A black long sleeved dress stopped just below her knee, and a crisp white linen apron pulled in at her waist. It wasn't exactly high stakes fashion, but it did the job that it was intended to do.

The household staff lived in a converted stableblock. They each had their own room, and shared a communal living space and kitchen. Needless to say, Molly the housekeeper took charge of that department. The family were generous, and it was a very happy place to work, for the most part atleast. Neave hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked across the driveway, taking her time to ensure that she could be outside for as long as possible. The promise of laundry afternoon was looming, and she wanted to stay in denial for as long as humanly possible.

It wasn't a glamorous lifestyle, but Neave was pretty content with it.

Seeing that his family were not prepared for his early arrival, he left his suitcase in the foyer and made his way through the winding corridors. He had spent many an afternoon as a child running through these hallways with his siblings and cousins and even after all these years, he still could wander these halls blindfolded. He was dressed in a tweed three piece suit that suited the long drive he had undertaken that morning. After a skipping lunch the first order of business until his family were ready to descend on him, was to find food. It had been 18 months since he was last at his Family’s Estate. Since the end of the war two years earlier, he had spent the majority of his time in London writing Fantasy and Science Fiction. After the death of his older Brother, his Father suddenly took an interest in his only son's choice in vocation. After 18 months of terse letters and heated debates while in residence in London, Edward had relented and agreed to join his Family at the Harrington Estate.

His nose discovered the kitchen first. The kitchen was deserted though the steaming pot of soup and the smell of fresh bread evident that the cook had only disappeared momentarily. Grabbing a bowl and spoon he opened the lid of the pot.

“What the hell. Why is it green?” he mumbled to himself. Dipping his spoon into the soup and taking a sip, well it tastes good he thought shrugging his shoulders and poured himself a bowl. Snatching a few dinner rolls from the cooling rack, he made himself comfortable at the wooden table in the kitchen. Even after twenty years, he was still sneaking into the kitchen and snatching food from under the noses of the kitchen staff. He had spent many an afternoon being chased by Molly while stuffing bread rolls into his mouth. Even as an adult he had half expected Molly to jump out from the corner to shoo him off.