“Right, well I will take your trunk down first, and then I will come back for their mail,” he said with a smile as he disappeared around the back of the carriage to unstrap her large wooden trunk from the back plate.
With the driver distracted, Georgette took a moment to look around her. Standing in front of so large a building she felt tiny and insignificant, her fears getting ready to overwhelm her. As beautiful as everything seemed to be, surely this would never feel like home. And, as large and as luxurious as she thought her own home had always been, it was as nothing to this very fine estate.
For an awful moment, Georgette wanted nothing more than to climb back into the carriage and tell the driver to take her far, far away. She was almost overcome with a sense of dread and the certain knowledge that she would never, ever like the place. She did not want to meet its master, nor any of its servants. In truth, at that moment, she did not even want to meet her infant charges. Georgette simply wanted to run.
Quite without knowing she was doing it, Georgette began to walk backwards and forwards a little on the spot almost. It was as if her feet were making ready to take flight, and she felt almost unable to stop herself.
Hearing the driver groan as he shouldered the heavy trunk, Georgette knew that she would have to get a firm hold of her senses immediately. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her skirts, straightened her spine, and held her chin up. Above all things, she must not creep into that house with her head down as if she were ashamed of herself.
“Oh, thank God for that. Here comes one of the footmen,” the driver said, smiling at the smart young man dressed in full livery who was approaching to provide assistance. “This is surely not your job, but I shan’t turn the offer down,” he went on and laughed.
“I do not mind a bit of heavy lifting now and again,” the footman said and smiled back.
“Thank you kindly,” Georgette said, keen to let the young footman know that she was grateful for his assistance.
“Think nothing of it,” he answered in rather a flat sort of tone, certainly flatter than the one he had used for the driver. “Shall we?” he added, more to the driver than to Georgette, but she followed them nonetheless.
As she followed the two men down the side of the west wing of Draycott Hall, she very quickly realized that she would be entering the building via the tradesmen’s entrance. Quite whether she would always be expected to enter thus, she could not tell.
When Georgette saw a woman of rather stern appearance in a stiff looking and plain black gown approaching her, the importance of which door she entered through seemed to leave her. She could not help thinking she had more imminent concerns.
“Miss Darrington, you have arrived at last,” the woman said rather harshly. “I am Mrs Griffin, the housekeeper here at Draycott Hall.”
“How very nice to meet you, Mrs Griffin,” Georgette responded as brightly as she could manage, hoping her nerves were not showing through the facade of calmness.
“I shall first take you through to meet Mr Pearson, the butler, and then you shall be shown the entire below-stairs area. Not that I suppose you will be spending a great deal of time here,” she said, seeming rather keen to show her displeasure. “But, nonetheless, it is wise for you to know where you are going if you need to come down here for anything.”
“Yes, wise indeed,” Georgette said, still brightly but certainly not keen to engage the woman any further. She would simply listen to what she was being told and look at what she was being shown. Too much of an attempt at conversation would very likely not be wise at that moment.
The housekeeper turned sharply on her heel and began to walk away, and Georgette, having almost to run to catch up with her, hastily followed along behind. They took several turns down numerous corridors, all of which seemed to have doors running off them. For the life of her, Georgette thought that she would struggle to find her way back to the entrance if the housekeeper left her at that moment.
As they continued to walk, the housekeeper keeping up her rather extreme pace, Georgette simply concentrated on the clipping of their heels against the immense gray flagstones of the floor. The walls of the corridor were also stone, and there seemed nothing of softness to absorb the sound of their boots on the floor. Everything seemed to echo just a little.
Finally, they turned at the end of another long corridor and, seeing a door in front of them, Georgette rather thought the butler would be found there. In truth, she felt a little angry already that she was being brought before the butler as if she were simply something to be inspected. She wanted to shout and scream that she had lived all her life with a butler of her own and that she would not be belittled in such a way. However, Georgette knew that there was no point.
She was a governess because she had nothing, and everybody there would be very aware of the fact. All she had to recommend her were an exemplary education and good breeding, the very things that would set her apart from the rest of the staff and leave her without friends or company of any kind, she felt sure of it.
“Enter,” the butler said rather grandly when the housekeeper knocked loudly upon the door.
Mrs Griffin pushed the door open and walked in, leaving Georgette to trail along behind her. Georgette almost laughed at the whole thing; they seemed to have a little hierarchy below stairs with the butler and the housekeeper clearly seen as the Lord and the Lady in their particular little domain.
Georgette could not help thinking that it did not matter where you were, or what circumstances you were in, somebody somewhere always wanted to be at the top of things. Somebody somewhere always wanted power over others regardless of the class and social status of the group. So, perhaps people were not so very different after all.
“This is the new governess, Mr Pearson,” the housekeeper said stiffly.
“Is it indeed, Mrs Griffin?” the butler said, turning his head to coolly survey Georgette.
“My name is Miss Georgette Darrington,” Georgette said levelly, fully determined to effect a proper introduction rather than simply be introduced as the new governess.
“Very good,” the butler said, seemingly a little taken aback. Presumably, he thought himself to be most intimidating, and it very likely worked wonderfully on the rest of the staff. Georgette made a silent promise to herself that it would never, ever work on her. “Well, I am Mr Pearson, the butler.”
“How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Pearson,” Georgette said, suddenly rather keen to give a display of her firm grasp on modern manners.
“Likewise, Miss Darrington.”
Chapter Four
Georgette awoke early the following morning, just as the sun was beginning to come up. She was not due to meet the Duke of Draycott until ten o’clock, and her breakfast would not be brought up until eight. With a sigh, Georgette closed her eyes and tried with all her might to get back to sleep. She did not want to simply lay there for two hours waiting for something to happen, staring at the four walls of the Spartan little attic room.
In truth, the room was probably a good deal better than those the servants had at their disposal; it was simply that it felt nothing like home. In London, Georgette had enjoyed an extremely large bedroom with all manner of pretty drapery, wall hangings, and rugs. Her bed had been of the four-poster variety with such beautiful fabric hanging in great swathes from its framework that it was a pure joy to wake up in it every day.
As she looked around her room at Draycott Hall, Georgette knew that life would never be the same again. Her bed now was a small affair, half the width of the one she had had at home. It was a very simply designed iron frame with no posts and no beautiful drapery. Despite that, she had found the mattress extraordinarily comfortable; not a thing she had expected.
The room was really rather small indeed, and her bed was pushed tight up against the wall on one side, with a small nightstand on the other. The nightstand was old but well-made from walnut wood. It was clearly something that had once been in use within the
hall itself and, having seen better years, had been demoted to servants’ furniture.
There was a small wooden stand, presumably to place a wash bowl upon, and a great chest of drawers of similar quality to the walnut nightstand but constructed of a dark oak. It was in perfect condition but was rather too large for the room, and its dark colour, coupled with the fact that all of the walls were painted in a seemingly miserable shade of green which reminded her of the attorney’s office, made the whole thing seem very dark and cramped.
In the far corner of the room was a small table with a solitary wooden chair beside it. This would presumably be where she took her meals. Georgette let out a sigh; it looked so very lonely.
There was a door leading to a small closet area which was just large enough for her to walk into and hang her gowns. The very moment she had been left alone in her room, Georgette had hastily unpacked her gowns and hung them for fear of creases that would never come out. Still, she had packed very carefully and was pleased to note that all of her gowns looked crisp and in good order.
The only saving grace in the tiny room was an immense window which, when the heavy drapes were pulled back, allowed the early morning sunshine in. Georgette rather thought that it was the only thing which stopped the room feeling like a dark and dingy little coffin, and she quite wondered how she would manage in the winter when every day began in darkness.
Still, she would not think of that, for the sun was shining, and she knew she must take from life whatever small pleasures it offered, even if the only pleasure was early morning sunlight.
When Georgette had finally been taken to her small attic room the day before, she had not realized that she would be left there until the following day. She had been shown around the entire servants’ area by the butler, Mr Pearson, who had been taciturn one moment and pompous the next. Georgette could not help feeling that the man had continually tried to prove a point to her throughout their entire encounter.
In truth, Georgette had been rather interested and somewhat amazed by the sheer size of the working area below stairs. The butler had seen fit to show her every bit of it, coal stores included.
“Obviously, you have seen my office. And here, as you can see, is the housekeeper’s room. If you need to speak to anybody below stairs, it is to Mrs Griffin that you must first attend. Only come to my office if you cannot find Mrs Griffin.” As they moved from place to place, Georgette was struck by the very determined straight-backed walk of the butler. He held his head so high that it almost tipped backwards, giving the impression that he was looking up towards the ceiling.
“Yes, of course,” Georgette said, not for the first time.
Georgette had very much decided not to engage with the butler. She would not pander to his devastatingly large ego by asking him any questions. She would simply make a very good mental note of everything she discovered in case she did, indeed, ever need to go below stairs for anything. Still, quite why she would need to know where the larder and meat safe was, not to mention the coal stores and chicken sheds, was quite beyond her.
“And here you see the butler’s pantry,” he said with something of a flourish. “It simply contains all of the serving equipment that is required to run a fine establishment such as Draycott Hall.” He held out an arm to indicate that she should go into the room and look around.
In truth, Georgette had never seen such an array of serving platters, cutlery, and crockery. There was every conceivable item required to serve any manner of meal. And yet, despite her interest, Georgette still could not see quite why the butler would be so keen for her to see it all.
“It truly is very well-stocked indeed,” Georgette said, for want of any other conversation to make.
“Yes, but then this is the largest estate for many counties across,” he said as if her comment had been quite stupid. Georgette chose not to respond.
“And this through here,” he said, striding down a somewhat wider corridor and pushing open the door into another room, “is the servants’ hall.”
Georgette, following close behind, was truly amazed at the size of the servants’ hall. There were several long tables in the room, all neatly lined up like trestle tables at a county fair. Of course, the room would need to be large to accommodate meals for the alleged fifty members of staff.
“This is where the servants take their meals and any other small breaks they are allotted,” he said, his tone rather pompous once again. “Of course, you shall not be taking your meals in here. As is proper, your meals shall be sent to your room, and you shall dine alone.”
Georgette immediately recognized that his words were intended to hurt. He had taken something which might well have been expected to be a compliment of sorts, the fact that she would not be dining with the servants, and he had twisted it to place full emphasis upon the fact that Georgette would have no friends amongst the staff.
His keenness to inform her of the fact in their first meeting gave her the dullest, emptiest feeling in her stomach. It felt almost like the dull and gentle pain of missing a meal and finding oneself really rather hungry. And yet, at that moment, she knew she could not have eaten a thing. What a spiteful man he was.
“And the children?” Georgette said and immediately wished she had not.
She knew that she had given the butler the upper hand by letting him know that she did not relish the idea of isolation.
“They shall eat with the nurse, obviously. They do not take meals with His Grace.” Again, he spoke to her in a manner which suggested he thought her entirely stupid.
“Indeed,” Georgette said flatly and turned to walk out of the servants’ hall.
“Down here,” the butler said, hurrying to overtake her, clearly wrong-footed by the fact that he had been forced to follow her and not the other way around. “At the very end of this particular corridor, you will find the servants’ quarters. Most of the servants sleep down here with just a few in attic rooms. Of course, the ones who do sleep in attic rooms are on the east side of the building, whereas you yourself shall be on the west.”
“Of course,” Georgette said, choosing not to rise to his provocation any more.
So, she would be eating alone, sitting alone night after night in an attic room set far apart from any others and devoid of any human contact save for that of her small charges and possibly the nurse. Well, it was simply something that she would have to get used to and, if she could not, then the butler would be the very last person to hear about it.
“So, now that you know where everything is, I shall return to my own duties and leave you to make your way to the housekeeper’s room for further instruction,” he said and, with a curt nod, turned to stride away from her.
For a moment, Georgette’s heart began to thud. She had wanted to tell the pompous Mr Pearson that she had absolutely no idea how to find her way back to the housekeeper’s room. Her tour of below stairs had been speedy and very far from methodical, an approach which she felt to have been entirely purposeful.
Clearly, the butler had wanted to make a fool of her. He had wanted her to run after him and admit that she could not quite remember where the housekeeper’s room was. Well, he would have a long wait if he thought that that was going to happen. Taking a deep breath and, not the first time that day, straightening her spine, Georgette strode back along the corridor in the hope that she would very soon recognize the door to the housekeeper’s room. Of course, to her, all of the doors looked the same.
After just a few minutes, Georgette’s resolve had dissipated entirely. She seemed to continually pass maids and smartly dressed male servants, all of whom kept their eyes focused firmly on the gray flagstones as they passed her. Not one of them would look in her direction, not even to nod a silent greeting.
Finally, she saw the smartly liveried uniform of the footman who had helped to carry in her large wooden trunk. Feeling a little relieved, she smiled and approached him.
“Would you be so kind as to show me where the housekeeper
’s room is?” Georgette said as he regarded her coolly.
“It is that way,” he said with the vaguest nod of his head before turning and walking away.
None the wiser, Georgette let out a great sigh. What a hateful household this was. Did not one of them below stairs have the presence of mind to act on their own accord and not simply be spiteful upon demand?
Well, if that were as much as she could expect from her fellow employees, Georgette would be pleased to eat alone and have nothing to do with them. Feeling antagonized made her feel suddenly purposeful also, and she began to stride through the corridors, pushing doors open and looking inside without a moment’s apology to whomever she found within.
Finally, using just such an approach, she located the housekeeper’s room.
“Mrs Griffin, Mr Pearson has sent me back to you,” Georgette said with a level voice.
“Yes, I am to take you now to your room,” Mrs Griffin said, rising to her feet and moving around the desk she had been sitting at as if she had been seemingly looking at receipts.
“Thank you,” Georgette said, keen to keep any hint of attempted friendliness out of her voice.
The servants’ staircase was located quite centrally, and one was able to go from the basement to the attics without happening upon a member of the household. It was with some relief that Georgette realized that the route from the top of the servants’ staircase to her own little room in the attic was a very simple one, and it went some way to giving her a sense of having her bearings if only just a little.
“This is your room,” Mrs Griffin said, pushing the door open and allowing Georgette to enter first.
“How lovely,” Georgette said, again giving nothing away in her tone.
“Well, at least you do not have to share as many of the servants do.” The tone of Mrs Griffin’s voice led Georgette to very much realize that the servants’ rooms, and possibly Mrs Griffin’s room itself, were very much inferior to the one that she would inhabit.
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