“Yeah? What kind of job?”
“I don’t rightly know, but he gave me this.” He handed her a sealed envelope. She took it from him, and turned it over. “But why haven’t you opened it?” Shaking his head, he said, “‘T’ain’t addressed to me.”
Hannah closely examined the back of the envelope. “Look, the seal is almost broken, so why don’t we open it? This is, like, your future. You’ve got a right to know what’s up.”
Jupe didn’t look convinced, but when she gave the envelope back to him, he carefully peeled it open, pulled out the letter, and began to read the spidery writing, his brow furrowed.
Finally, he said, “I sure don’t know what to make of this. What do you think?” He handed it back to her with a perplexed look.
Hannah read over the letter, and raised her eyebrows. “I have no clue, but this is really interesting. And it’s bizarre that we’re headed to the same place. Who is this Thornhill guy, anyway?”
****
That evening at Balesworth Hall, Brandon found himself alone in the kitchen with Henry and Mrs. Watson. “So, Henry,” Brandon asked as casually as he could, “Where were you born?”
Not for the first time, Henry looked at him as though he were an idiot. “Here,” he said abruptly, immediately returning his attention to the carrots he was slicing.
“Where’s here?” Brandon persisted. “At your house, right?”
“Oh, now, there’s a story,” chimed in Mrs. Watson. She stopped beating a cake batter, put down her a wooden spoon, and wiped her brow with her apron. “In those days, I helped out at Balesworth Hall only from time to time, like, and I was helping to prepare a big dinner for old Lord Chatsfield’s visitors, when I could tell it was time for the baby to come. Well, I couldn’t just stop work, could I? So I carried on pulling the leaves off the cabbage. Next thing I knew, the baby was on the way. I wanted to lie down right here in the kitchen, but the old cook, Mr. Baylis, he wouldn’t hear of such a thing. There wasn’t time for nothing else, so they heaved me into an old wheelbarrow and the gardening boy ran with me all the way home! Henry was born right there in the front room of my house, and hardly a moment to spare.”
“But Mother,” protested Henry, “You always said I was born in Balesworth Hall!”
Mrs. Watson gave her son an indulgent look. “No, dear, you’re just confused. I told you I started labor here, but you were born at our house. The gardener’s boy fetched Granny to help.”
“Yeah, I could see how that story could get confused,” said Brandon. “By the way, where is your house?” He tried to ask as casually as he could.
Mrs. Watson threw some flour into the cake batter. “Quite a ways from here” she said, “which is why Henry and me lodge in the housekeepers’ quarters these days.”
Henry explained. “It’s about a quarter mile past the grammar school at the end of the High Street, on the left.”
Brandon knew the only time he could check out the house was during his half-days off. Otherwise, his time belonged to Lady Chatsfield, just like that of all the servants. Fortunately, he thought, his next half-day was tomorrow.
Loud knocking at the back door startled everyone. Henry dropped his knife and carrot on the table, and rushed to answer. When he opened the door, standing there, dripping wet, were Jupe and Hannah.
“Can I help you?” asked Henry, astonished by the sight. At first, he didn’t recognize Hannah from the Exhibition, although he certainly recognized Jupe, who was running his fingers through his hair to shake loose the glistening droplets of water.
“Yeah,” said Hannah. “I’m your new housemaid, and this here’s your new junior footman.” She jerked her thumb at Jupe.
Mr. Veeriswamy arrived from upstairs just in time to catch the introduction. He looked skeptically at the two youngsters standing in the doorway. “It is true that we require a new housemaid,” he said, “but I shall need a character from your former employer before I can consider you for the position. And we do not require another footman.”
Hannah was unfazed. She walked inside, reluctantly followed by Jupe, and took off her shawl. “Don’t worry, it’s cool,” she said to Mr. Veeriswamy. “Jupe here has a letter for Lady Chatsfield. It explains everything. I lost my reference letter somewhere, but Brandon here can vouch for me. Right, Brandon?”
‘Shut up, Hannah’ was written across Brandon’s face, but after only a moment’s pause to gather his wits, he stepped up to the task. He took a deep breath, and said, “Yes, sir, Mr. Veeriswamy. This is Hannah Day, and she’s an excellent housemaid. Let me tell you, she just loves doing housework. You won’t get a more enthusiastic girl when it comes to scrubbing floors, blackleading fireplaces, beating rugs, or emptying chamberpots. And she never complains. She has such a positive attitude.” Hannah was staring daggers at him, but Brandon carried on, enjoying himself now. “She worked with me at… er…Devenish House in…er…Yorkshire, and she was excellent. Just excellent. That’s why I asked her to apply for this job.”
Mr. Veeriswamy gave Hannah a sweeping look, and sighed. “I suppose a bird in the hand… Very well, Hannah, you may start on trial. If your work is satisfactory, we shall see. And if it is not, then you and Brandon will be discharged from our employment.”
Hannah gave a small smile of revenge at Brandon, and said to Mr. Veeriswamy, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I have Brandon’s full support, and we won’t disappoint you. By the way, what did you say your name was?”
Mr. Veeriswamy was taken aback by her disrespectful tone. He drew himself up. “I am the butler of Balesworth Hall, and my name is Mr. Veeriswamy.”
Hannah wasn’t impressed. “Wow, I’m sorry, but I can’t pronounce that,” she said dismissively. “Can I call you Mr. V.?”
“No,” he said, “You may not call me that.”
Hannah shrugged. “Fine, whatever, I’ll just do my best to say Veeriswhatyousaid. Brandon, show me where I sleep.”
Shortly after Mr. Veeriswamy took the letter up to Lady Chatsfield, word came down that Jupe, too, was hired. But Brandon couldn’t help noticing the troubled look on the butler’s face as he communicated the news.
At noon the next day, an exhausted Hannah arrived in the kitchen for the servants’ midday dinner. She looked dreadful. She slumped into a chair with dirt on her hands and face, but Mr. Veeriswamy immediately sent her off to wash. By the time she returned, everyone else had served themselves, and she gazed forlornly at the scanty thin remains of the soup in the bottom of the tureen. Carefully, she ladled what she could into her bowl, before giving up and lifting up the tureen to pour the rest. But Mr. Veeriswamy snapped at her to put it down, and so she did. She was just starting to slurp from her spoon, when she realized that everybody was staring at her.
“I have not yet said grace,” Mr. Veeriswamy said reproachfully. Then he closed his eyes, clasped his hands, bowed his head, and intoned, “For what we are about to receive, may the Good Lord make us truly thankful.”
Hannah immediately took a great spoonful of soup, and swallowed it. Everybody ate silently for the next few minutes. Finally, Hannah, who had finished the meal first, could stand the silence no longer, and began, “So, Mr. Veerisrunny…”
Mr. Veeriswamy looked pained, and briefly closed his eyes before correcting her. “Hannah, my name is Mr. Veeriswamy.”
Hannah waved aside his complaint. “Whatever… That was an interesting grace you said. But aren’t you, like a Muslim? Or one of those Indian people that worships gods with elephant heads, or the god with, like, fifteen arms?”
Mr. Veeriswamy was glowering at Hannah now. “I am not a Mahometan,” he said sharply. “I was raised as a Hindu, certainly, but I am now a baptized Christian of the Church of England.”
Brandon was so embarrassed, he put his head in his hands. Hannah turned to look at him.
“What’s with you?” she said in an aggrieved tone. “I was just asking.”
Brandon slowly shook his head in despair.
Mr. Veeri
swamy gave up on Hannah, and addressed the other maid. “Flora, did you finish blackleading the fireplace in the Library?”
“Yes, sir,” Flora said meekly.
“In that case, this afternoon, you and Hannah will commence cleaning the rugs in the Rose and Lilac bedrooms.”
“Have fun,” said Brandon with a wink to Hannah, as he folded his cloth napkin. She scowled back at him.
But as she and Brandon took the dishes back to the kitchen, he whispered, “There’s something I gotta tell you.” He broke the news to her that Lady Chatsfield was Verity’s great-great-grandmother. Hannah was so surprised, she dropped and broke her plate, and Mrs. Watson scolded her.
The Rose bedroom was, as its name suggested, decorated with roses, most of them deep red. There was a leak in the ceiling, and a chamber pot had been placed below it to catch the rainwater.
Hannah followed Flora into the room with a new spring in her step. She had counted the generations on her fingers, and realized that Lady Chatsfield must be Mrs. Devenish’s grandmother, and Sarah, her mother. How exciting was that? Maybe they would be just like Mrs. D. and Verity. It was an amazing thought, and Hannah was dying to meet them. No wonder Lady Chatsfield had sounded like a familiar name: Hannah could swear she had heard the name before, but she couldn’t think where.
Flora, meanwhile, was talking. She spoke in a slow, monotonous voice, and her usual subject of conversation was her large family. She was in mid-drone. “My Uncle Davy, he’s the one I told you about who’s married to my ma’s sister, well, he tripped on a haystack and twisted his ankle last week. Imagine, twisting your ankle on a haystack! Well, I never, I said to Ma when she told me. I heard of some funny things, but that do take all. Mind you, there’s some as say that field is haunted by a ghost what’s full of mischief.”
“Fascinating,” said Hannah in a bored voice.
Flora, however, was not to be deterred. “My little brother saw it once.”
“What?” said Hannah without enthusiasm as she looked anxiously at the carpet.
“The ghost! And do you know, it was a little…”
“Flora, be quiet, okay?” Hannah said huffily.
Flora was deeply offended. “You are so rude, Hannah Day! And don’t forget that I was housemaid here first!”
There was an awkward silence as they got to work. As Hannah helped Flora to roll up the carpet, she asked, “Who sleeps in this room?”
“Nobody,” Flora said, puffing slightly. “It’s for visitors.”
“So do a lot of people stay at the house?” Hannah asked, picking up the other end.
“They used to, in old Lord Chatsfield’s time, but…” and here Flora looked around to make sure nobody was listening, “but this new Lady Chatsfield don’t have many visitors, except her mother. Mrs. Watson thinks it’s on account of her not having much money, like. Here, what do you think of that Mr. Veeriswamy?”
Hannah stood up, and wiped dust from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t know. He’s all right, I guess. Why?”
“Here, help me,” Flora said, as she picked up one end of the rug. “Take the other end, and we’ll heave it down to the courtyard to beat it.”
As Hannah did so, Flora continued in a hushed voice, “I didn’t know what to think when Lady Chatsfield brought an Indian gentleman as her butler. Old Mr. Wagstaff, our old butler, retired to the Earl of Chatsfield’s estate at Rantham, which is a long way from here, and Mrs. Watson reckons that Lady Chatsfield forced him out so she could bring Mr. Veeriswamy in his place. What do you reckon to that, then?”
“Not much,” gasped Hannah, as she staggered under the weight of the rug. “Come on, let’s get this downstairs before I drop it. Man, this thing weighs a ton!”
The two girls maneuvered the rug through the door, and tottered down the hallway toward the grand staircase, Hannah taking the back.
“We can’t take this down the servants’ staircase,” Flora explained breathlessly. “We’ll never manage. It’s too big. Just be careful going down the mistress’s stairs.”
“Okay,” Hannah grunted. They made it halfway down to the first landing, when the sound of footsteps approached. Flora gasped, and awkwardly moved to face the wall.
“What are you doing?” Hannah hissed.
“Someone’s coming!” Flora whispered back. “I’m facing the wall, same as you ought! Hurry!”
Hannah had no idea what this was about. Was there a gorgon approaching? Should she shut her eyes or else turn to stone? Whoever it was had now reached the top of the stairs. As Hannah quickly turned herself around, she wrestled with the rug, and dropped it. Flora then lost her end, and the rug fell open across the stairs in an explosion of dust.
“Sorry, Your Ladyship,” Flora gabbled. “We couldn’t take it down the servants’ stairs, see, because…”
Lady Chatsfield held up a hand to silence her. “Enough. I am not in the least interested. Clean up this mess at once.” For the first time, Lady Chatsfield looked at Hannah’s face and stared. “If I knew no better, I would be absolutely certain we had met before…”
Hannah recognized her now, and not just because she looked vaguely like Verity. Lady Chatsfield was the woman she had led astray in the slums of Dundee. No wonder the name had seemed familiar. She remained silent, desperately willing Lady Chatsfield not to identify her.
Lady Chatsfield looked at Hannah’s face, all clean and scrubbed, unlike the dirty urchin Hannah had been in Dundee, and under her breath said with a peculiar smile, “Extraordinary,” before making her way as best she could past the dropped rug.
This wasn’t Hannah’s only encounter that day with the Chatsfield family. When she and Flora had finished beating rugs, she had her usual duty of dusting the morning room, one of many living rooms in the house. Hannah was already exhausted as she set to work with her damp dusting cloth, but she knew that if she missed even the smallest speck of dirt, Mr. Veeriswamy was likely to spot it and blame her. Hannah had just lifted a china knick-knack, a model of a spaniel, when the door slammed behind her. Startled, she dropped the ornament, and it smashed into tiny pieces, flying all over the floor. “Oh, you idiot,” she said, “look what you made me do!” She whirled around to see who she was speaking to, only to find herself face to face with a dark-haired young girl wearing a fancy white dress with bloomers. This, Hannah realized, had to be Sarah Chatsfield. For one crazy moment she considered curtseying, before deciding that there was no way she was going to curtsey to a kid who was younger than her.
“Why are you looking at me?” Sarah snapped, and she instantly reminded Hannah of Verity.
“You’re Sarah, right? I’m Hannah. I’ve heard all about…”
“How dare you speak to me with such familiarity?” Sarah said sharply.
“Well, excuuuuuse me,” Hannah sputtered, one hand on her hip. “I was just being, like, friendly, which I thought was kind of nice of me, after you made me drop that doggy thing. I mean, what’s with the door slamming? Are you throwing a hissy fit, or what?”
Sarah looked crossly at her, but suddenly, the corners of her mouth began to turn up, and she put a hand to her face, and closed her eyes. Was she going to barf, Hannah wondered with alarm? No, she was giggling. When she caught her breath, she said, “I ought to be offended, but you are a rather amusing creature.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever called her a creature before. She threw down her duster on a nearby table. “So don’t you go to school?” she asked Sarah.
“No, of course not. I had a governess until last year, but Mama says that I need no more schooling, except perhaps lessons from a dancing master. Mama teaches me all that I need know.”
“Lucky you,” Hannah said. “It would be so cool not to work or go to school.”
“Perhaps,” said Sarah, looking sad, “but it can be rather dull at times. However, Mama says that in a few years I shall attend all manner of balls and parties and make my debut in society. She already has a list of suitors for
me, so I am very confident of making a good match.”
“Hang on,” Hannah said, aghast. “You’re how old? Ten? And your mom is already picking out boyfriends for you? That’s kind of weird.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Not at all. I can hardly expect a lowly housemaid to understand matters such as these. Mama has my best interests at heart, and I am sure she will help me to find a good husband.”
Hannah looked at Sarah pityingly. “That sounds kind of boring. Don’t you want to do anything else apart from get married?”
Now Sarah paused, and, biting her lip, appeared doubtful. “How odd you should say that. That is what our footman also asked me.”
“Brandon, right?” Hannah said. “Figures. He’s big on telling people to read books, and stuff like that. So what do you like to do for fun?” Without asking for permission, she perched on the arm of a chair.
Sarah found herself intrigued and impressed by the impertinence of this young maid. She also found her likeable. She ignored Hannah’s sitting down in her presence. “I suppose I like to play in the gardens, although it’s more pleasant to do so when we have visitors. Henry is not always the best company, and playing by oneself can be… well…”
“Lonely?” Hannah offered.
“Yes, I suppose one could say that,” Sarah said hesitantly.
“So what’s with the door slamming?”
To Hannah’s surprise, Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears. “Perhaps I ought not to tell,” she said, her chin trembling. “But I was angry. Mama will not invite Papa to Balesworth.”
Hannah smoothed down her apron, and said, “Have you asked her why?”
“Oh, no,” Sarah exclaimed. “I could hardly be so insolent.”
“What’s rude about asking?” Hannah said. “This is your dad we’re talking about. You’ve got a right to know why your mom won’t let you see him.”
“I do?” Sarah asked uncertainly.
“Of course you do,” Hannah said. “You gotta tell her she has to let you see him.”
Suddenly, Sarah’s face became set. “No, I could not possibly do that.” “Okay,” Hannah said, picking up her duster. “Suit yourself. Your funeral.”
A Different Day, A Different Destiny (The Snipesville Chronicles) Page 32
