by Danni Roan
Hester's Hope
Tales from Biders Clump
Danni Roan
Copyright © 2020 Dann Roan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 979-8654486585
Cover design by: Erin Dameron-Hill
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Introduction
Hester’s path has not been an easy one, but with the help of her uncle, she will make do on what little they have. Confident her luck has changed when she garners employment at one of the city’s wealthiest homes, and despite the reputation of the occupants, she is grateful.
Cecil Payton never wanted wealth, responsibility or two children who depended on him. He preferred the wide-open spaces of the wild west, but when his brother died, leaving him everything, he finds himself shackled to a fancy house in the heart of the city. Unprepared for the perils of business, or how to guide his niece and nephew, he is at his wits end. He can’t even seem to keep dependable servants on hand, and as the most important event of the year approaches, he is desperate to find help.
Will an unassuming, simple woman be the answer to his problems or will she too, run from the exuberant antics of his only living kin?
Chapter 1
Hester gripped the pail in one hand and the mop in the other as she looked at the front door of the elegant brown stone building. She couldn’t believe her luck in procuring a job working for one of the city’s wealthiest families, and she had never needed it so badly.
The past few years had been lean for her and her uncle Hyke. As long as Hester could remember, she had lived with her uncle, a foreman for one of the big factories on the edge of town. Hezekiah Johnson had taken in his tiny niece before she could walk and had raised her as his own after the loss of her parents. The wiry man with the shock of white hair had been everything to the girl.
Now it was Hester’s turn to help pay him back for his love, loyalty and kindness. Hyke, as he was known to his friends, had lost his job after a tragic fire at the factory had left him with nowhere else to go. Accustomed to taking in work of her own, as she cared for her uncle’s small accommodation, Hester had sought work cleaning homes to try and make ends meet, but the pay had been poor, and they were barely holding on to the roof over their heads.
Squaring her shoulders, Hester turned toward the servants’ entrance below street level of the brownstone. There was no point wasting time. From all she had heard, this home didn’t have the best reputation, but the fact that they couldn’t seem to keep hired help only meant that the offered wage was higher than any other place she had worked before.
Setting her bucket and mop on the stoop, Hester raised a hand to knock only to have it yanked open before her knuckles touched wood.
“You must be the new girl,” a hard faced older woman in a severe bun, snapped. “It’s about time too.” She ran her eyes over Hester critically. “You look stout enough,” she added with a nod pulling the door wide. “I hope you’re up to the task. We have much to do and little time before guests arrive. Get in and we’ll get started.”
Hester gaped, not sure what to say as the woman waved her in. “I’m Hester,” she finally managed.
“Fine, fine. I’m Mrs. August, the housekeeper here, and I hope you’re ready to get to work, not that it will matter much, you’ll like as not be gone before you begin in this house.”
Hester felt a wave of annoyance wash over her as she stepped into the orderly kitchen. “I haven’t even started yet,” she said lifting her chin, “I don’t think you should dismiss me quite so soon.”
To Hester’s surprise the older woman grinned. “Well you’ve got pluck, that’s refreshing. You’ll need it if you plan on making it at this mad house. Cook, coffee!” Mrs. August snapped. “We might have some hope after all if this girl has as much heart as she does hair.”
The house keeper ran her eyes over Hester, taking in the faded dress, work worn hands, and mass of chestnut hair, piled loosely on her head.
A harsh huff from a portly woman sweating over a sparkling cook stove made Hester blink.
“She don’t look like much,” the woman turned pouring coffee into a chipped mug and thrusting it at Hester. “Kinda’ skinny if you ask me.”
“That’s enough cook.” Mrs. August nodded for Hester to take the coffee. “Drink up,” she said. “We’re already behind schedule for the day.” She shot a glance at the mop and bucket Hester had brought with her. “I don’t see why you brought those,” her dark eyes snapped back to Hester. “We have everything you’ll need here, except courage.”
Hester’s head was spinning. She had never been greeted in such a manner before. In the other homes, where she had come to scrub floors, fireplaces, and flagstones, she had been expected to do her work quietly, keeping out of everyone’s way. Perhaps the rumors about this home were true and everyone living in it was mad. Hiding her thoughts behind the mug of coffee, Hester took a long drink, and then sat the bitter brew on a scrubbed table.
“Where should I start?” she asked simply. The money offered for cleaning here was far too good to give up before she had even started. If she stayed out of the way, kept her mouth shut, and did her job, she and her uncle could relax a little with the steady income.
“Eager, ain’t ya?” the cook asked, wiping her brow with a towel draped from one shoulder. “Just as well. Maybe we’ll get a good day’s work from ya before ya run.”
“Yes,” Mrs. August agreed. “We’ll start in the dining room, and then move on to the parlor.” She shook her head in disgust. “The master is having a large gathering tonight and the grates all need cleaned.” She marched toward a small cupboard reaching in and grabbing an ash bucket and whiskbroom. “I don’t have time to show you where everything is right now. You’ll just have to learn as you go.”
“Yes ma’am.” Hester didn’t know what else to say, so she simply followed the staunch housekeeper up the stairs and into a long dining room in need of a good dusting.
“Start from the bottom and work your way up,” Mrs. August said. “I’ll expect this room spick and span by lunchtime. If you need anything, ask cook. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.”
In a heartbeat the older woman was gone, slipping through a glossy white door at the end of the room and leaving Hester alone to assess the mess.
Making her way to the fireplace, Hester was shocked at the state of the grate. It didn’t appear to have been cleaned in at least a week, perhaps more. She had never heard of
such a thing in a wealthy home like this.
Kneeling, the young woman carefully lifted the partially burnt logs, setting them on the marble hearth before scooping the ash into the pail. It was going to take a good bit of elbow grease to clean the soot-covered brick, but Hester wasn’t afraid of hard work, and the thought of being able to pay this month’s rent motivated her to put her back into it.
***
“You can’t leave, not today!” A man’s deep voice, timbered with panic, echoed through the closed door of the room where Hester worked. “You know this is the stockholder’s dinner. What will I do if you go now?”
“I don’t care what you do.” A woman’s high reedy voice drifted under the frame and Hester cringed. The voice was angry, indignant, and harsh. “I’ll not spend another minute in this house. You and your horde are pure evil.”
“Evil, now isn’t that being a bit harsh?” the man’s voice snapped. “Perhaps a bit unruly, yes, but evil. No.”
“You can use whatever words you like,” the woman said. “I’ll not be a party to any more nonsense. I’ll expect you to send my wages and my things to this address. No God-fearing woman in her right mind would stay a second in this den of wickedness.” The woman’s voice faded into nothingness as a door slamming punctuated her exit.
Hester’s hands stilled as she scrubbed at the blackened brick of the fireplace. Was what she had heard about this home only whispered rumors, or something far worse? A shiver raced down her spine as she wondered about her decision to take the job.
Pushing the unpleasant thought away, Hester finished polishing the brick, tossing the filthy rag into her pail and standing with care. It wouldn’t do to get cinders all over the floor, and she carefully shook her now filthy apron into the bucket as well.
“Who are you?”
Hester jumped, narrowly avoiding kicking the bucket and undoing her hard work at the man’s hard words.
“I’m Hester,” she stated, giving an awkward curtsy as her eyes fell on a tall man in his mid to late twenties. His dark hair stood in every direction as if tossed by the wind, and his soft eyes were troubled. “I’m the new maid.”
A bright glint entered the man’s hazel gaze and Hester almost took a step back. The predatory expression on his handsome face had her shaking where she stood. Wicked the unseen woman had said.
“New, huh?” the man ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. He didn’t look like a wealthy gentleman in his brown trousers and plain white shirt. “How new?”
“I only arrived this morning.”
A wolfish grin spread across the man’s well chiseled face as he stalked toward her. “I have a proposition for you,” he grinned shaking his head as her eyes grew wide. “How do you feel about children?”
Hester gasped. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said her voice rising into a squeak as the man stepped close.
“Do you like children?” he asked peering intensely into her face as he cocked an elbow against the dusty white mantel.
“Yes, I guess, but what does that have to do with anything.” Hester had the strangest urge to run from the man before her, but her uncle’s haggard face kept drifting before her, forcing her to hold her ground. If they didn’t make the rent this month, they would both be tossed out onto the street.
“Come with me,” the man grasped Hester’s upper arm dragging her toward the room he had just come from. “Children!” he bellowed as they passed through a thoroughly untidy parlor and into a hallway overlooking the stairs. “Children!” the man bellowed again. “I have someone for you to meet.”
The sound of running feet pounding down the stairs made Hester cringe as two children raced toward her.
“What is it Uncle Cecil!” A boy of about ten bellowed back as he hit the banister sliding to the bottom with at little leap thrown in.
“I have someone for you to meet,” the man smiled. “Jonas, I’d like you to meet your new governess Miss Hester,” he scowled at her for a moment realizing he didn’t know her last name.”
“What?” Hester gaped. “I’m no governess, I’m a maid.”
“I can find another maid,” the man called Cecil snapped. “What I need right now is someone to wrangle my niece and nephew for the evening. Whatever I’m paying you now, I’ll double it if you can just keep them out of my hair for the night.”
“Why are you so dirty?” the boy asked, his dark eyes examining Hester’s apron critically.
“Who’s dirty?” A girl of eleven walked down the stairs, her boots scuffing heavily on each tread.
“Our new governess.” The boy shot back. “She’s ugly too.”
“Jonas,” Cecil growled.
“I don’t want her,” the boy shot back.
“What does it matter Jonas,” the girl drawled twisting a strand of glossy red-gold hair around a finger. “She’ll be gone by tomorrow like all the rest.”
Hester lifted her chin meeting the girl’s dark gaze boldly. The arrogant little whelp didn’t know her if she thought she could be scared away by two pint sized pups.
“Miss Hester, please, just agree to watch the children tonight,” the man beside her hissed, “and I’ll pay you whatever you want. I have a very important dinner tonight and I don’t need them ruining everything.”
Hester turned, mouth gaping at the man’s cruel words. “Very well,” she said, “I’ll do my best.”
Chapter 2
“Why are you so dirty?” the girl asked walking around Hester with a critical glare.
“Because I was hired as a maid, but apparently, I am needed to watch you two instead. I have just finished cleaning the fireplace.”
“Do you like cleaning fireplaces?” the boy called Jonas asked.
A smiled tugged at Hester’s lips and she nodded slowly. “As a matter of fact, it is one of my favorite jobs.”
“Really?” the girl asked eyes wide. “I’ve never heard anyone say they like cleaning before.”
“She’s just joshing Bev, no one likes cleaning anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hester said looking at the children seriously. “Let me show you.”
Hester turned toward the parlor when the man she assumed was Mr. Payton, smiled, turned on his heel and walked away, saying he was off to find Mrs. August.
The young woman was still reeling from the confrontation with the man and the children, but if he truly would pay her what he promised, how hard could it be to keep two children out of trouble for one evening?
“You see, cleaning isn’t really work,” Hester smiled, placing a finger over her lips. “It’s more like a game,” she spoke smiling at the children’s shocked expressions. “Of course you don’t want other people to know. It’s a secret.” Hester leaned forward drawing the children in. “Do you like games?”
“I like games,” the boy called Jonas agreed. “I always win.”
“Do not,” the girl snapped. “You’re terrible at games. I’m the best.” She lifted her pert chin, garnering a hard glare from her brother.
Hester hid a smile behind a weathered hand. “Well, let’s find out who is the best,” she sighed. “I’ll give you a task, and you have to complete it. The first one to do so will get one point.”
“What do we do?” The children stepped up to her, eyes intent.
Hester looked around the room, where papers, toys, and odd articles of clothing were scattered. The room looked more like a defunct nursery than a parlor, and that would never do when the family was expecting guests.
“I’m not sure if you can do it. I’d better do it myself to be sure it’s right,” Hester said crossing her arms over her middle, her brow furrowing into a scowl. “After all children like you have never tried anything like this before, so you won’t be able. I was raised to it, you see, I have a knack you could say.”
“Anything you can do I can do,” Jonas snapped, crossing his arms, a mirror image of Hester’s stance.
“I can do it better,” Bev sassed. “Tell us.” Her voic
e was demanding and her dark eyes bright.
“It does require some skill,” Hester, tapped her lips, eyeing the newspapers scattered about. “I suppose I can show you. If you’re sure you want to try.”
“Yes, show us!” Bev pleaded. “I’ll beat Jonas at this game for sure.”
Hester picked up a paper folding it carefully before rolling it into a tight tube and tucking in the corners to form a snug log of newsprint while both children watched intently.
“I can do that!” Jonas barked.
“So can I,” Bev lifted her nose then sprinted for the nearest stack of papers her brother on her heels.
***
“Mr. Payton you can’t do that,” Mrs. August spluttered as. “The girl is a char, not a governess or even a nanny. She’s not fit to watch the children.”
