Ready To Obey

by Melinda Barron

  “Do you know if anything needs to be done first?” she asked.

  “Just pick one and start,” Mrs. Beale said with a laugh. “I will see you at the morning break.”

  Maisie started to work the minute the woman was gone. She worked until break, and then went for tea and toast in the kitchen. She told her new coworkers the story of her life, telling them of Elvin. She left off the part about Jack and his idea of making her into a whore.

  After that she sewed, took luncheon and sewed some more. When the day was done, Maisie was almost finished with two baskets. “I’d like to stay and work, if it’s all right with you,” she asked Mrs. Beale when she came to tell her the workday was done. Her fingers ached from the day’s labors, but she was eager to not fall behind.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Beale said. “You’ve worked hard enough today. You need to relax. Eat supper, go for a walk, read a book. We don’t want to wear you out on the first day.”

  Before she left the room, Maisie asked about the gardens.

  “They are beautiful,” Mrs. Beale said. “If there are any students present there please be careful and not make contact. Some of them can be haughty.”

  Maisie promised to heed her advice. She went to her room and changed into one of her dresses. It was plain, but after wearing black all day the purple color lifted her spirits and made her smile. After putting on her shoes she started down the hallway.

  “Mrs. Glover.” Mr. Cummings’s voice caught her by surprise. She turned to see him standing in the doorway of a room. “I trust your first day was productive and enjoyable.”

  “Yes, sir, it was,” she said. She was once again struck by his handsome looks. His deep voice made her shiver slightly.

  “Are you going out?”

  “Yes, for a walk in the gardens,” she said.

  “They will be mostly deserted at this time,” he said. “May I walk with you?”

  “Of course,” she said. She put her hand on her dress to hide a stain. She hadn’t expected to see anyone until dinner, and before then she’d wanted to change into her best dress, the one she’d worn yesterday for the interview.

  She saw him glance at her hand, but he didn’t mention it. He followed her up the stairs and out into the garden.

  “They are beautiful blooms,” she said as they strolled. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a garden around my house.”

  “What did your father do for a living?” he asked.

  “He was a sweep, which is how I met Elvin, my husband. They worked together.”

  “And both your parents are gone?” he asked.

  “No, my mother still lives, in America. She moved there with her two sisters after my father passed away. She wanted me to go, but I was married to Elvin at the time. I didn’t want to leave him, and he didn’t want to go.”

  “I see.” They walked a little in silence before he said, “You don’t want to join her now?”

  “Not really,” she said. “It’s true I have no one here anymore. Elvin didn’t have contact with his parents. But the crossing is expensive. I had hoped that, since I have a better paying position now, I might be able to save some funds in case I decide to go at a later time.”

  “It is a hard journey,” he said. “But you should be able to save a bit while working here, since your expenses are covered.”

  “Are you married, Mr. Cummings?” Maisie was shocked the words came out of her mouth. She usually wasn’t that bold.

  “No, I am not,” he said. “Since you have been so open with me, I will do the same for you. My wife left me, after four years of marriage. She said I was a cold, heartless bastard.”

  Maisie stopped in her tracks. “Are you? I mean, you don’t seem that way.”

  “I can be,” he said.

  “Does that mean you’re divorced?”

  “I am,” he said. He leaned toward her, his face lit with a wicked grin. “Scandalous, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said, but she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Does she live around here?”

  “No, she married a merchant who lives in Liverpool.” He started to walk again. “They have several children together, which is something she wanted from me.”

  “You don’t want children?” Maisie gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m being far too forward. Forgive me.”

  “At the time, I was house manager for an estate,” he said. “We had our own little cottage and children were part of our plan. But—” He paused, and Maisie wondered what he was thinking. “It is almost time for dinner. Perhaps we should go inside and get ready.”

  They turned before getting to a statue that Maisie had wanted to see. It set in what seemed to be the center of the path they were on, and she wanted to explore it, to examine the marble and its carvings. She would have to come out here later to do it on her own.

  Maisie kept her gaze on the flowers as they walked, and when she tripped and fell to the ground she gasped.

  “Mrs. Glover,” Mr. Cummings said, bending down to help her up. “Are you all right?”

  “I tripped,” she said. She looked behind her. There was a small mound of dirt near the edge of the path, and a rock, not very big, but large enough for her to stumble over, was near it.

  “I shall have to speak to the gardener about this,” he said. “He is not doing his job properly if things like this are left about. Were you injured?”

  Maisie felt her knee. There was a new rip in her skirt from her fall. “Nothing I can’t fix,” she said.

  “You know, I believe there is extra material in your work area. Perhaps you could use some of that to make yourself a new frock. Consider it a bonus for having to put up with another worker’s carelessness.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cummings,” she said.

  He nodded, and she took that to mean you’re welcome.

  The idea of a new dress occupied her mind as they walked in silence back to the house.

  “I’ll see you in the staff dining hall,” he said. “We still have about half an hour.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cummings,” she said.

  She changed as quickly as she could, and then headed back to the garden, thinking she could see the statue before the meal. The night was closing in on her, and she carefully kept to the right side of the path so she did not trip over the rock and dirt clods.

  As the statue drew near she thought about her new life. She thanked the powers that be for seeing her safely to the school. Her panic had been so real, and it seemed so far away now.

  Last night there was every chance she would be a whore. Now she was an employee of the best finishing school in Bath. She was just a mender, true, but if she worked hard there was the possibility that when Mrs. Beale retired she could take her job.

  What would it be like to be more than a worker? What would it feel like to be one of those young ladies, she wondered. She was sure they were all happy and didn’t have a care in the world. They didn’t have to worry about how they were going to pay the rent, or where their next meal was coming from.

  “Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” she whispered as she reached the statue. She wasn’t sure who the sculptor was, but the object was Roman in nature. It was of a woman, wearing a floral crown and the long, flowing robes they wore. She had an orb of some sort in her hand, but it didn’t look like a globe.

  Maisie wondered what it was. She took a step closer to get a better look. There was a golden ring around the middle of the orb, but there were no other markings.

  She wondered what life would have been like in the times the Romans inhabited the city. The baths were a wonderful place to visit.

  She was so happy now that she wasn’t sure anything could bring her down, unless she managed to make Mr. Cummings angry and lose her job. That might happen if she were late to dinner the first night. She made her way back down the path, stopping when she heard a few voices Maisie was surprised to hear one of those ladies voice the same concern she had thought just moments ago.

>   “We’ll be in trouble,” the first voice said. “Besides, this is a ridiculous search. Nothing has been found in the last eighteen hundred years. What makes you think we’ll find it?”

  Find what? In the growing darkness, Maisie looked down to make sure she didn’t trip again. As she did the second voice, much louder and stronger than the first one, spoke.

  “You’re such a milksop. This is an adventure. Think about how famous we’ll be after we find it.”

  Find what? Maisie asked herself silently. Had something been buried in the gardens? Something that had been missing for quite some time? In her years in Bath, Maisie had never heard any sort of legend associated with this manor house. The school had only been here for the last twenty years.

  Before that it had belonged to a rich family, although Maisie couldn’t remember their name.

  “You stay then. I’m going back,” the first voice said.

  Maisie moved back and crouched down, the pebbles from the path biting into her knees as she tried to make herself as tiny as possible.

  A girl, no not a girl, a woman, hurried out from the bushes and turned toward the house. Maisie couldn’t make out her features, and she doubted she would be able to pick her out if she saw her again.

  Seconds later a second female entered the path and rushed after her friend. “Wait for me!”

  When they were gone, Maisie stood up. If she didn’t hurry she would be late for supper, and that would not make her look good in Mr. Cummings’s eyes. She took off toward the house, praying she would make it before they said the meal prayer.

  Tomorrow she would ask Mrs. Beale about any legends that might be associated with the house. It would make for interesting conversation at mealtime.

  Chapter 2

  “There was dirt on your skirt last night.” The unexpected statement made Maisie jolt and poke herself with a needle. She’d been so involved with her work that she hadn’t even heard anyone come into the room. She’d been working solid through the morning, ignoring Mrs. Beale’s invitation to the morning tea break.

  Now she stared up at her boss, who seemed even more attractive now than he had before. What was it that she now found so inviting? Especially since he seemed slightly suspicious, like she’d snuck into the dining room and taken the silver.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Cummings?”

  “Mrs. Glover, there was dirt on your skirt at dinner,” he said. “Do you care to explain it?”

  “It’s nothing nefarious,” she said. “I wanted to see the statue in the garden and I tripped again.” The lie fell off her tongue easily, which made her feel uncomfortable.

  “I see,” he said. “In the dark?”

  “Hence the reason for my fall,” she said. “I suppose I’m quite clumsy.” She held up her finger, which featured a small stream of blood from the needle prick. “Did you need something, Mr. Cummings? Mrs. Beale came by earlier and said I was going to be sewing a costume for one of the girls, something about a party she’s going to attend.”

  “It’s not just some party,” he said. “It’s a costume party for one of the school’s biggest benefactors.”

  “I see,” Maisie said. “Mrs. Beale told me she had already cut out the fabric and I was to start sewing today. She said it’s a Cinderella outfit.”

  “That’s correct,” he said. He seemed to be studying her as if to determine whether or not she was trustworthy.

  “The party is in two weeks,” he finally said. “I trust you can finish it before then.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’ll check on it from time to time.”

  For a moment, she thought he would leave. But then he sat down in a free chair. Still nervous in his presence, Maisie continued to sew on a torn shift.

  “What intrigued you about the statue?”

  “I just wanted to see it,” she said. “There was no particular reason.”

  She didn’t want to tell him about the two women she’d seen in the garden.

  “This house is very old,” she said.

  “It was built on Roman ruins, about a hundred years ago,” he said. “The statue was intact, and the owner at the time liked it, and kept it. The family lost the home and it became Treadmore.”

  Treadmore’s School for Young Ladies, she said to herself. To him she said, “There’s no ghost, or buried treasure or the like?”

  He laughed. “This isn’t a gothic novel, Mrs. Glover.”

  “Of course not,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him about overhearing the two girls. Would she get in trouble for not letting them know she was there?

  Maisie kept her gaze on her work. She shivered a little and knew he was watching her intently.

  “And you fell? Again?”

  “Clumsy,” she repeated.

  She looked up and their gazes locked, and it seemed as if neither of them would speak. Finally, he said, “We’ll see,” before he stood and left.

  When he was gone, Maisie stared at the door. What had he meant by that? It made her a little nervous, not only that he’d noticed the dirt, but he was suspicious about it. Had something happened that she didn’t know about?

  She sat and stewed for a few moments, and only Mrs. Beale’s laughter made her start to work again.

  “You’re a hard worker, Mrs. Glover.” The assistant matron dropped an armload of material on the table. “This is for the Cinderella dress. I did the measurements myself. I used to be quite the seamstress before I took my new job. This won’t be the only dress you’re making; Miss Parkinson needs a travel dress. You and I are going into town tomorrow afternoon to pick out the material.

  “It will be wonderful to create new dresses,” Maisie said. “I’ve only ever sewn for myself. This is… exhilarating.”

  At least the sewing was; Maisie didn’t care too much for the idea of going into town. There was too much of a chance of running into Jack. She wanted to ask if she could skip out of the trip, but she knew somehow that wouldn’t work.

  “I would like you to make up the bodice of this dress in the next few hours. Then I’ll bring Miss Parkinson down for a fitting. Don’t add any buttons or lacings in the front, or add any bones. This bodice will be totally free fitting.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Beale,” Maisie said. “You know I can cut fabric. I don’t mean for you to do a chore I should rightfully do. I’m sure you have other things that need taken care of.”

  Mrs. Beale smiled. “Once you’ve settled in and learned our ways I will bring you more chores. Until then, I’m happy to continue with my dressmaking tasks.”

  When she was gone, Maisie stared at the fabric the assistant matron had left. It was stiff green satin. Maisie had never worked with satin before, and it surprised her that a schoolgirl would need an outfit made of this material. She would have thought she would be sewing muslin. But satin? This was interesting.

  And what had Mrs. Beale meant that Maisie need to learn their ways? Wasn’t dressmaking the same in any place it was done? You designed a frock, you selected the material, you cut it out and then sewed it. What ways were there to learn?

  She picked up the pieces and examined them. There was barely enough here to make a bodice. When she sewed the pieces together, there would barely be enough for them to meet in the middle. Maisie wondered if Miss Parkinson was a small woman, with very little in the bosom area. If so, that would explain the cutting.

  There was also the objecting of making the bodice without bones. She would have to make a few adjustments to the darts to make it fit. But she would worry about that when she saw the person she was sewing for; right now she would just do two darts on either side, under the armpits. But what about…

  “Stop questioning things,” Maisie said. “You have very few hours to get this done.”

  She worked through lunch, nibbling at a tray Mrs. Beale brought for her when Maisie refused to take time off to eat. The clock had struck four when she had the pieces together. It didn’t surprise her to see that the pieces didn’t fit in the
front, and it worried her that she’d done something wrong.

  Soon after the bells rung the hour, Mrs. Beale came in with a busty woman in tow. Maisie’s stomach flopped. Not only did she know this woman, there was no way the bodice she’d just sewn would fit her.

  “Let me see,” Mrs. Beale said as she held out her hand.

  Her hands shaking, Maisie gave Mrs. Beale the bodice.

  The matron looked it over, then smiled. “Perfect. Your stitches are immaculate.”

  “Thank you,” Maisie said. “But I don’t think it’s going to fit her.”

  “It’s absolutely perfect,” Mrs. Beale said. “Miss Parkinson, down to your corset. Now.”

  The lady started to undress, and as she did Maisie took a good look at her, recognition surging through her. She knew this woman. She was a friend of Jack’s. She came into the Poke and Bear quite often, sitting near the bar and talking with the bartender until Jack came in, and then the two of them left together.

  Maisie remembered her because of the woman’s striking beauty, her bright red hair and brilliant green eyes. Those eyes currently gazed at Maisie from time to time as Miss Parkinson stripped down to her corset. Maisie took a step back as Mrs. Beale gave her the bodice.

  There was no way Miss Parkinson was of school age. Maisie guessed her to be in her early twenties, much too old to be at a finishing school. Plus, if she was a student, what had she been doing at the Poke and Bear?

  “It’s perfect,” Mrs. Beale said. “Mr. Cummings was right, Mrs. Glover. Your work is faultless.”

  “But, Mrs. Beale,” Maisie said. “It does not close in the front.”

  “It’s perfect,” Mrs. Beale repeated. “I will take care of the rest. I will have the skirt for you tomorrow. That will be all for the day, Mrs. Glover. Be ready to work around seven tomorrow morning.”

  “You will change your clothes and be ready for supper at the regular time,” Mrs. Beale said to Miss Parkinson. Maisie thought her tone was quite dismissive. She would have figured a matron would be more respectful to the daughter of a peer. But then she remembered that Miss Parkinson was older than what she’d expected.