by A. W. Exley
I sat with him until his eyelids began to droop, and then left him to a well-deserved rest. Our household might be reduced in numbers, but a farm doesn’t run itself, and I had bedrooms to clean. For a moment, I considered a future where I accepted Seth's offer and became his duchess. I’d wave my hand and command the staff to do whatever needed doing.
No. How could I sit around and watch someone wait on me, after the years of being under Elizabeth's thumb? Pushing aside thoughts of idle living, I donned my apron and cap and, with Alice in tow, headed up to the dusty attic. With three women gone from under our roof, I was determined to clean out the last traces of them. Alice and I were going to pack away all their belongings. To do that, we needed boxes and trunks.
We used the space on other side of the attic wall from our snug little room as storage. Alice and I poked amongst the dust and cobwebs, gathering what we needed from all sorts of long forgotten items and suitcases. One trunk contained a selection of carefully-folded clothes that once belonged to my mother. She might be physically gone, but if her dresses remained then a piece of her was still near. I laid a hand on her steamer trunk as I passed.
"Thank goodness she never climbed up here. She would probably have made us polish the cobwebs and dress the spiders for dinner," Alice joked as she pulled aside a silvery strand of web.
What sort of control would queen Elizabeth exercise over her vermin subjects? Would they all be made to dress up before they wandered the countryside to make more? Would she have a burrow decorated with chandeliers and fine things? She’d be easier to find if all we had to do was follow the vermin dragging a chaise lounge across the countryside.
I passed the suitcases down the narrow stair to Alice, who piled them up on the landing. Once we had a sufficient tower, I pulled the little attic door shut and joined Alice.
"We'll clean Charlotte's room first; she has the greater need for something familiar. Let's pack her favourite clothes, books, and trinkets. I'll not have her leaving here empty handed. We are not as cruel as Elizabeth to deprive her of the things she loved." I picked up a suitcase in each hand and Alice did the same.
It didn't take long to fold and pack Charlotte's clothing and the few belongings in her room. I tucked her dog-eared books, trinkets, and jewellery amongst her underclothes. Alice handed me a worn teddy bear with floppy ears and yellow ribbon. I placed the bear on top before closing the lid.
Henry would take the suitcases to Charlotte at the manse. At least she had a roof over her head, and Reverend Mason would be a kind, if somewhat distracted, employer. Perhaps Charlotte would flourish away from the influence of Elizabeth and Louise. The poor woman at least deserved the chance to find out who she really was away from them. I hoped one day we could meet as friends.
With one room cleaned, we moved through the adjoining door to Louise's domain. Louise had far more clothing, and every available space seemed to be crammed with some frivolous clutter, from magazines to perfume bottles to more of the staring cat figurines she favoured.
Alice picked up a skinny tabby cat. "What do you want to do with these?"
I stared at the cat and the cat stared back. "We are going to very carefully put them all in a box and I am taking them down to the bottom of the garden."
Alice frowned. "Why do you want ceramic cats at the bottom of the garden? Surely they are far too small to be garden ornaments."
"Because I am going to set them along the low stone wall and we are going to use them as target practice." I hated those useless cats with their smirks and judgmental stares. I would take great delight in improving my aim with the rifle by shattering each grinning, malicious feline.
We laughed and for the first time in years, no one told us to hush. Work didn't seem like work when I had someone to chat with and share a joke. We no longer had to look over our shoulders, fearing judgment for some perceived infraction. Nor did we have to worry about Elizabeth reaching for the cane after Louise tattled about some made up thing. We flung open the windows and drew in fresh air while the past drifted out on a breeze.
It took another couple of hours, but by late afternoon we had most of Louise's former room cleared away. Her effects would be stored in the attic in case she one day returned to claim her possessions. Perhaps she might change her mind about life with a vermin hive. I couldn't see Louise putting up with dirt, muck, and the dark. Nor Elizabeth for that matter. Would they start a new, cleaner type of vermin society?
"All done," Alice declared. Hands on hips, she surveyed the room with every surface clean, polished, and devoid of cats.
My hand stroked the thick fabric of the curtain. We had erased the years and once again, this was my room. But events left lasting impressions, and some people cast long shadows.
"I'll never be able to sleep at night. Who will keep me company?"
For the last five years, Alice and I had been two peas in a pod. Each night, we whispered to each other while we waited for sleep to claim us. Some nights we were so exhausted due to Elizabeth's demands that we barely lasted five minutes. On other, rarer nights, it seemed we talked for hours, sharing our hopes and dreams.
Alice wrapped her arms around me. "You're a big girl now, I'm sure you'll cope. Perhaps you could ask the duke to tuck you in and read you a bedtime story?"
I was glad she hugged me, for it meant she couldn't see the blush that turned my face beetroot. Seth in my bedroom? Heat shot out the top of my head and my hair seemed to burn, then a river of lava plunged down and coloured my face and neck.
My so-called friend sniggered. "I bet you're thinking about it now. Is he in his pyjamas, or do you think he sleeps in the altogether?"
I certainly was picturing him here and saw more skin than flannel. And his promise to show me more explosive nights made me wonder what exactly he had in mind. Kissing seemed to result in near combustion. Alice had a smidge more experience than me, since she and Frank had been an item for some months, and she was always sighing at the mention of his name.
"It wouldn't be right to have Seth in my room." I tried to sound all prim and proper as I pushed her away and turned to tie the curtain back while my colour returned to normal.
"Oh, but Ella, it would be so right." The way she said it, with a breathy whisper, made me turn and narrow my gaze at her.
"Have you and Frank … you know…" I couldn't bring myself to say the words. They weren't ever to be uttered in polite company, although I don't think Alice and I were polite company. We certainly shared some impolite details about our restricted free time, but we had never discussed the full intimacy between a man and a woman.
However, we did live on a farm and we both saw what the ram and the bull got up to with their harems of willing females. I did hope there was far less bellowing between a man and a woman, and a tad more romance.
Alice shook her head, and a chocolate curl broke free of her cap. "We haven't done that yet. But there are other things you can do with your man that are ever so delicious."
"What sort of things?" I fixed her with a glare for withholding information from me. Tonight it would be cocoa and questions before I would let her go to bed. I bet the War Office could teach me some interrogation techniques in case she didn't tell me everything. I wanted to be prepared for when things with Seth headed toward explosive.
"You'll learn, I'm quite sure. Seth seems keen to be your teacher." Alice picked up the last few trinkets from the dresser and placed them in a box.
I wasn’t sure I liked her smug tone, as though she had exclusive experience I lacked, just because she and Frank had months more of practice. I bet Seth would be every bit as masterful at other things as Frank, his half-brother. Was skill at that sort of thing inherited, like a singing voice?
"Stop worrying about it," she laughed.
But I did worry about it. Times like this reminded me seven years and a lifetime of experience separated Seth and me. Society had completely different expectations when it came to physical relations, and it was based solely on gend
er. "It's not fair. Men can have all the experience they want, yet women are expected to remain ignorant about the physical aspect of love."
I punched a pillow. Take that society and your stupid rules. I didn't want to disappoint Seth—what if I did something wrong? Love was like an exam I couldn't study for or a fight with an unfamiliar weapon. "Why is a woman loose if she has more than one boyfriend, but a man is a jolly good chap if he has a string of women?"
Alice screwed up her face, trying to answer my question. "Well, women have the vote now; perhaps ideas will change."
I snorted. The suffragettes had campaigned for so long and the government finally relented in 1918. "Women over thirty have the vote. Silly politicians expect a woman to vote as her husband tells her."
The pillow received another punch. After everything I did in service to the county, I still had to wait another twelve years before I could cast a vote.
"You want to change the world, don't you? Ella for prime minister." Alice's words held a wistful note.
We both chafed against what the world told us to be—why couldn't we forge our own paths? Why couldn't a woman aim to be prime minister? There was a dangerous thought, a woman in power. What shape would the world take if women ruled? If Elizabeth had her way, we might find out.
Alice snapped her fingers, and I glanced up at her. "Now, do you want to tackle her room this afternoon?"
Gosh, I was exhausted; I couldn't face more grinning cats. For some reason I had an urge to fetch my sword for when we ventured into her domain, like Saint George looking for the dragon to slay.
I fluffed up a pillow and tossed it on the bed. "No. Let's head down to the kitchen for a break. There's no one to chastise us for lying about, so I hereby give us the rest of the day off."
"Oh, thank God." Alice threw herself backwards on the bed and wiggled her feet. "I could murder a cup of tea and a biscuit."
3
I spent a restless night tossing and turning in a bed that felt too big, isolated in a cavernous room that threw unfamiliar shadows. As a young child I loved that room, but as an adult, it seemed overwhelming. I missed the cramped space I shared with Alice, but she practically chased me back down the stairs when I tried to follow her.
I awoke to birdsong as the sparrows rose from the hedges and set out to pluck worms from the damp ground. Normally I would jump from bed, don my uniform and rub the sleep from my eyes while I started an endless round of meaningless chores. But today there were no fires to set, no coal to polish, no step-sisters to wait upon, and no tightrope to walk as I waited for someone to pull it out from under my feet.
Instead, I stretched my arms and wiggled my toes, and then stared at the wallpaper. Perhaps a change would help me re-settle into my own room? I couldn't help thinking of it as Louise's room and I expected her to burst in, scream, and chase me out with a broom.
With them gone, our expenses would be slashed; there would be no more ruinous dress bills or useless magazine subscriptions. We could eat for a week on what Elizabeth spent on bobby pins in a year. With some careful budgeting, and once we paid the worst of the outstanding invoices, we could afford a few rolls of new wallpaper.
Then I thought of Alice in the attic space, roasting in summer and frozen in winter. I would rather see my friend in a much better room, with more space for her. Henry had his room in the barn, and Magda and Stewart lived in one of the crofter houses. There was a small cottage at the bottom of the lawn that once belonged to the gardener; we could make that into a tiny home for Alice. Somewhere that would be entirely hers.
Yes, that would be a much better application of any excess funds. A bit of elbow grease would clean out the birds and insects living in the cottage. I made plans to talk to Henry and Stewart about fixing the roof to make it water tight once more. Sturdy wooden shutters on the windows would protect from any vermin that roamed at night. Then we could paint and decorate the inside.
With a plan of action in mind, I rose and dressed in trousers, a linen shirt, and a fitted waistcoat. I needed to keep my mind occupied to stop worrying over Elizabeth. Henry had criss-crossed the countryside the day they left, but failed to find any sign of the two women. It was as though they had simply vanished amongst the ancient trees.
Today we would tackle Elizabeth's room and then the parlour she had turned into a chintz and grinning-cat nightmare. My date at Serenity House also loomed, and I needed to think about a dress to wear for dinner.
My gaze turned to the polished wardrobe. We had packed most of Louise's clothing, but a few of her evening dresses that wouldn't fit in the boxes still hung there. Something in there may do for an appearance at the big house. It wouldn't do to be seen in the same dress twice in the same week.
I needed breakfast first, and then I would tackle my list of jobs and hunt through Elizabeth's room for any lurking dragons. As I walked down the hall, I glanced at her closed door. What would I do if I threw it open and found her within, setting up a nest in our home? What if that was why Henry didn't find her—she had doubled back and slept in her own bed?
I shuddered and hurried past, refusing to humour my fancy by cracking the door open to check. In the kitchen, I drank a cup of tea with one hand while eating toast with the other and pacing back and forth. Not because I had a pile of jobs to do, but because I wanted to see father again. Would a new day see his improvement continue?
The sparkle that returned to his eyes was miraculous. I hadn't been so excited since the day we heard the truck was bringing him and Henry home. We hadn’t cared about their injuries; they were back, safe with us.
I paced the kitchen, waiting for Magda to put the finishing touches to his tray, then she shooed me out with a flick of a tea towel. I bounced up the stairs until the teapot started to rattle and I had to slow my steps, lest I spill hot tea everywhere. No point in making work for myself by being foolish.
Father smiled as I entered his room, and my heart flip-flopped in my chest. Happiness flooded through me, so intense I could almost forgive the catalyst that wrought the change. I placed the breakfast tray over his knees.
"Good morning." I kissed his stubbly cheek. Stewart would be up soon to shave him. I relished the comfort of our pre-war routine.
"Morn'," his voice was heavy, as though his tongue had inflated, but he spoke.
I watched like a nervous mother as he reached out for a piece of toast. I had an overwhelming urge to feed him, but recognised allowing him to do it himself would aid his recovery.
I distracted myself by talking instead. "Today Stewart and Henry will take you downstairs. Much has changed since you left. Three years ago, I spent an enormous amount of money on a new ram to improve our sheep, and I want your opinion of him."
He huffed in gentle laughter and I had to turn my face to wipe away the tears that sprang to my eyes.
"The old ram went feral. With you men off at war he took to the hills, and I couldn't spare the time to hunt him down. It took Henry a week to stalk and trap him. His fleece was so long he looked like an overstuffed mattress."
The huff was accompanied by amusement dancing in his eyes. My soul lightened. All along I had kept the farm together for father, never for her. I was thankful I wouldn't have to explain what happened to step-mother for some time. I would first have to walk father through the influenza pandemic and then explain how the dead arose and returned as vermin. At this point, a push outside in his wheelchair would suffice. The rest would keep for another day.
I read from the newspaper (carefully screening out certain articles) until Stewart rapped on the door, shaving equipment tucked under one arm and a jug of steaming water in the other.
"Ready, sir?" He sat the hot water on the dresser and fetched the bowl.
I left the men to it. Henry would be along once father was shaved and dressed. It would take the two men to carry father down the stairs.
I walked down the hall to the next panelled door. My hand wrapped around the doorknob and I drew a breath before pushing it ope
n.
She had only been gone two days. Everything lay in wait for her return. Her dressing robe was thrown over the screen in the corner. A silk eye mask sat on top of the magazine she had been reading. Her makeup was lined up and waiting on the dressing table.
"Watch out!" Alice called from the hallway.
I turned as Alice and Henry shuffled into the room, carrying a large trunk between them. Henry walked backwards while Alice directed him. They dropped it on the carpet and it made an empty thud. Henry smiled and slipped out the door on his way to help Stewart.
"Where shall we start?" Alice asked.
I looked around at the scattered mementos of my step-mother's life. The woman whose approval I desperately sought, even though I knew it was forever beyond my reach. Only recent events taught me she had no power over me. "Let's fold her clothes in the trunk first. Then we'll sort through the rest."
Alice picked up a sinuous porcelain Siamese with an elongated neck. She waved it in my direction. "More cats for target practice?"
"We seem to have enough to last for some time." A petty thing to shoot at them, but they seemed a symbol of her oppression. Perhaps smashing them would break her final spell over us all.
Like any other day, the hours passed in the blur of work. We left the large trunk until Henry could lend his strength to help haul it up to the attic. Then Alice and I stripped the bed and laid the coverlet back over the bare mattress.
With inside jobs done, I unhooked my katana from its spot behind the kitchen door, and headed outside. I needed to let the wind lift some worries free of my mind, and I wanted to patrol the countryside. Perhaps I’d spot Elizabeth and Louise hiding under a tree or an abandoned croft.
I steered the motorcycle with no direction in mind along one narrow country lane and into another. At times, I opened the throttle and let Trusty shake my joints loose. The wind caught short strands of my hair and whipped them against my face. Then I eased up and the motor idled as I slowed past old cottages with fallen-in roofs and crumbling walls. I sought any signs of life. Or death. Instead I saw feral sheep, startled quail, and a pheasant who made me stop while he ambled across the road, but no trace of Elizabeth.
