<br/><div class="floatright">(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/EllaPrice.jpg) </div><strong>Who: </strong>Ella Price<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Outside Her Quarters Dusting<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lord Archibald Greymore<br/><strong>When:</strong>Noonish<br/><strong>What:</strong>Lordshipping the Master<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Ella had been humming comfortably to herself as she casually dusted. The household was actually a little disorganized in her opinion and every now and then no one thought to assign her anything to difficult. So she would happily spot some task that needed doing and dive into it. Her dress was a bit large as she had inherited it from an earlier maid. But having a shapeless sack as a dress wasn’t exactly a bad thing, she thought to herself as she saw the master of the household approach with a sociable gleam in his eyes. One eyebrow rose when he pointed to her and asked her about someone named Hazel. Witch Hazel indeed, Ella snickered to herself enjoying the man’s sense of humor. “I couldn’t say sir,” she told the man in a voice blurred with too many accents, the French of her parents and Cockney of her more recent years and just a hint of upper class English that she was working into her repertoire.<br/><br/>She smiled up at him. “I’m not sure I’m the new housekeeper, my lordship.” she told him. “Though you really need one sir,” she told him gesturing at the shelves she had been dusting. “But I’ve got neat references as a house maid and I’m so very pleased to be given a chance to serve you your grace.” She made a point of dropping as many upper class honorariums in her conversation as she could recall, even if not totally sure this was correct. She had been middle class until she was twelve and cockney poor until now and My Lord this and that wasn’t something she had to drop into many conversations. She pulled her skirt out and made a half curtsy, half bow.”<br/>