Mary Wardwell Novels & Stories

Mary still couldn’t believe her luck. She, Mary Wilberforce was waiting for a Maybach to pick her up and take her to the residence of Adam Scott. The Adam Scott! Her heart kept pounding till she felt her breasts were going to pop out from her very low cut crimson sun dress.

A tall, chubby girl—about six feet tall, red-haired, with cheeks like rising dough—barrels through the squabble, sending two maids crashing to the floor. “I will do it,” she says, not sparing a glance at the maids wincing on the ground at her dramatic entrance. Mira brightens. Martha chuckles. “This is MaryJane,” she says proudly. “She has worked in this mansion since she was a child. Hasn’t it…” She pauses thoughtfully. “Been twenty-five years?” “Yes, ma’am,” the bully replies stiffly. Martha gasps. “Wow, how time flies. I remember when she was a little girl, running around this kitchen, stealing biscuits.”

The brown liquid spread across my chest and dripped onto the floor. I looked up at her. My eyes were ice cold. “You stupid, clumsy girl.” The maid’s face turned pale. “It was an accident. Please forgive me.” “Accident?” I snapped, standing up. “You walk into my study shaking like a frightened animal and destroy my clothes and documents?” “I didn’t mean to—” “What is your name?” “M-Maria.” I repeated it with disgust. “Maria. How long have you worked here?” “Six months, Mrs. Cadwell.”

After that, they agreed to meet up later. "Debbie, you can text me the address and time. I will see you later, till then." She said and hung up. •• "Mary did you say, uncle Williams, is back?" Madeline who just got back from her mentor's place asked. Mary was one of the maids in the Luther household. she was particularly close to Madeline who she constantly flatters. No one disliked compliments. naturally, Madeline was not an exception. She likes compliments no doubt but she indulged in false praises making her proud and arrogant.

Marcus Webb arrived twelve minutes later, which told her something before he'd said a word. He wasn't alone. A woman came in a half step behind him, dressed in tailored black that never quite committed to mourning or refused it either. She was somewhere past fifty and had aged into it deliberately, silver threaded through dark hair pulled back into a knot too severe to be accidental, cheekbones sharp enough to cut, dark eyes that moved over the room once and priced everything in it. Corporal placed the resemblance before anyone said a name, the same set to the jaw, the same way of entering a room like it owed her something. Maria Webb. Marcus's mother, and until three weeks ago the power tha

Maryam was now the wife of a billionaire and she knew that she had a lot of back-ups, including Cornelia. The two girls entered their class and went to take their seats at the back. "That was great and all but I still don't understand why Adam's making such a big issue out of this," Cornelia said, frowning. Her friend looked at her for a moment, thought about something, and then pursed her lips.

The gravel crunched under my feet. "Luna Medora!" a voice called out. I didn't stop. I kept my eyes fixed on the garage entrance. Footsteps hurried across the dirt. A woman stepped right into my path, forcing me to stop or crash into her. It was Martha. She was the senior head maid of the estate. She wore a crisp black dress and a pristine white apron. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She held her hands out, gesturing toward the warm house.

They were also her favorites; Marylene being the oldest and most trusted employee. Mary was about 52 years old, an old lady with a very big heart. She could very well remember the first time she tasted Mary's cooking, it was literally heaven bursting on her tongue. She had come to ask for the job to support herself and her son since her husband had just passed away. She was a stay-at-home wife so things were hard for them. She shared her passion for cooking with Jim and he gave her a chance, also because she was a very nice lady with kind words and a soothing smile.

Silas asked, his eyes scanning the room. Helen frowned, wrinkles deepening around her mouth. "No, sir. We have Mary and Marianne, but no Marion." "Mary and Marianne." Silas pulled out his roster, flipping pages again. "Where are they?" "Marianne is there." Helen pointed to a young woman chopping vegetables at the far counter. Dark hair, young face. "Mary called in sick today, for the first time in five years."

Catherine Marsh. She was a child psychologist in Boston in 1987. She and your grandfather met through the aftermath of the 1972 fire, she was involved in the welfare assessment of the Webb family in the months after Constance died. She and Edward maintained a professional relationship that became a personal one. She was present when the idea for Blackwood was formed, she contributed significantly to its founding philosophy, particularly the pastoral care framework and the student welfare policies. She married a man named Howard Marsh in 1989.