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You must look confused, because the young master clarifies almost immediately -
"With that bundle of yours - or that parasol."
"Oh - no, no help. But you are too - er, so kind to offer."
He acknowledges that with a murmur that you cannot quite make out, then faces front once more, just as he heads through a narrow door - one so narrow that you actually have to walk through it sideways to clear it battering your arms again. As you do though, you try to get a good look at the young Master. There is not much in the way of resemblance between him and the actual Master of the house. Truly, there is so little that you have to wonder if he is actually his son, or just a cousin that was adopted as a son - which is not an uncommon practice amongst Subjects of substance and Citizens.
"Is that your Mistress's dress and parasol?"
"I - yes. Yes it is. I picked it up on the way over. Wasn't too much of a detour, though."
You consider saying something else, but your instincts are telling you to make like a clam. In the fable you fed the young Master's father, you were very clear on the point that you and several other fictitious maids were done with the shopping and errands for the day when you were all recalled to the house to prepare for some unexpected entertaining. So saying that you were running errands <span class="mu-i">after</span> dropping the cart off blatantly contradicts that ... but hopefully it will be overlooked. And even if it wasn't, you doubt that anyone would find it particularly hard to swallow that there had been one more errand to run. Still, you cannot articulate how much getting caught like this makes you squirm. Luckily though, it seems that the young Master was simply making polite talk, because besides nodding, all he says to that is -
"She must put a great deal of stock in you."
And with that, nothing else is spoken until you reach the room. He reaches it first, and without any preamble, unlocks the door and pushes it open. He stands clear, and ready to get your bundle out of your arms and onto the cart, you quickly come abreast with the door, only to see your forlorn little hand-cart, upended ... and empty. You were on time, weren't you? So why ...why? You stare at it uncomprehending - numb and dumb - until the young Master starts to explain himself.
"As I have been left in charge of the Heads, the surety and safety of our guests belongings is my purview. Once I determined how valuable the contents of the hand-cart was, I made the decision to remove them to a more secure location."
You are in such a state that you are not quite registering what exactly the young Master is getting at - but even before comprehension dawns on you, your stomach is roiling and rolling with nerves and panic all the same. Then he just comes out and says it.
"My room."
You nearly drop your bundles in shock. No, this ... this isn't happening. No, it can't ...
