The next day consciousness hits you as a bright light shining in your face as you see your body, or rather the maid's, gazing into a mirror straightening her uniform. It seems you slept longer then she did. It's confusing to you and your confusion seems to effect her as well as she hesitates before pinning the small hat to your hair. You finish the process and flex your hands, watching the smaller fingers close in and out. You're a little more used to the body now, but by no means completely so. The maid's voice in your head reminds you that you've got work to do. Still you wonder if you really do. You turn your gaze to the mirror and ponder the string of events that brought you here. This is not the same mirror that brought you here, it was the one in the guest-house. It strikes you that if you returned to it, perhaps you could return back to your regular life.
Regardless you'll have to get downstairs and prepare breakfast for the gentleman and lady of the house before you can. You make your way to the kitchen, passing by the man's room. Luck is with you, the door is closed and it seems that he's still asleep. As you continue you pass another room that seems familiar to you. You call upon the maid's memories. The lady of the house, it's her room you're passing. The lady's memory triggers a slight amount of fear in you. She's not often in the house and doesn't sleep in the same room as the man. She also has power. Unnatural power. You've been told this by other servants and have even seen minor examples of it yourself. It seems she's often standoffish around you, rarely deigning to show much emotion good or bad to you. But the stories you've heard cause you to shudder. She's not someone to be trifled with it seems. Her door is closed, though you can hear her in there moving around.
You continue down the stairs and prepare breakfast for them. Eggs, bacon and biscuits, with coffee; black for the Mrs. with cream and sugar for sir. The breakfast is almost complete by the time the man comes down stairs. You smile pleasantly at him, he responds with a leer. As his hands reach for you again you hear the lady of the house approaching.
"Good morning, ma'am." you say to her. The man retracts his hands as though he'd put them in a fire and you see fear in his eyes. The lady responds with a noncommittal grunt as she passes through the kitchen and into the dinning room. The man is quick to follow, his cool demeanor returning as he asks how her trip was. You breath a sigh or relief, echoed by the maid's personality in your mind. By the time you dish up breakfast for them, they're in the dining room exchanging bland pleasantries. You serve them their breakfast and retreat back to the kitchen, noting a slight warning look on the gentleman's face, which causes the lady's eyebrow to raise almost imperceptibly. You finish eating your own breakfast, and clear the dishes, as is expected of you. By that time you're alone.
You have to fight the maid's strong desire to serve in order to get back to the guest-house, which after all does not need cleaning, but you manage. As the light outside hits your eyes you take note of your surroundings. Trees that were there when you first arrived at this place are gone. Some of the ones that are still there are smaller. It begins to come together in your mind that you've stepped not just into someone else's body, but someone else's time. You're not certain how far back but you're certain that's the case. You shake off the thought, you have to return to the mirror and get back to your own time, or at least try.
You find the guest house as clean as you left it the other day. You move to the mirror and a sense of dread fills you. Will this work? Will this do something even worse to you? You don't know, but it's your only chance. You stare at the mirror.