The Beast at the Door

by Althea Blue

  After her muscles relaxed enough that Patience didn’t hurt anymore, she reached for the soap and the piece of flannel that Ada had left and applied herself to scrubbing off the accumulation of days. She had never been so dirty in her life. A few days of rough living and she looked like she had gone for a swim in the mud. The water turned black long before Patience was clean, but she did the best she could with her skin and her hair, ducking under the water to rinse the soap out. She longed for the fancy scented shampoo that had been a Christmas gift from her mother, but the soap wasn’t harsh and seemed to do a relatively good job of cleaning.

  As she emerged from a second dunking, Ada returned to the kitchen carrying a large piece of toweling and what looked like a white nightgown. She handed Patience the towel and looked away as Patience stood up, wrapped herself in the fabric and climbed out of the tub, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. As she dried herself off, she watched Ada return the tube to the tub and attach the other end to yet a third pipe. Ada started cranking again and Patience blinked in amazement as the water disappeared through the tube in less than a minute. Ada returned the tub to the side room, hefting it easily, and returned just as Patience was ducking into the nightgown.

  Ada used the cold water pipe to fill a kettle and placed it on a cast-iron stove to heat. While they waited for it to boil, she retrieved two cups and tossed a measure of tea leaves into a teapot. “Will you tell me how you came to be here?” Ada asked, uncertainly.

  Patience, feeling relaxed and warm and full for the first time in days, let her true story spill out. She had meant to conceal certain details, but she was just too tired and comfortable to remember to. “It started with my engagement,” she began. “I was engaged to Mr. Gabriel Longbranch of the Hammond and Company bank, the son of the head banker who is a superficial and supercilious ass,” she stated definitively, then realized what had come out of her mouth and covered it with her hand in horror.

  Ada looked like she was trying very hard to suppress a smile as she poured the tea and Patience, grateful she hadn’t offended her hostess beyond hope of redemption, continued. “This engagement was without my consent and expressly against my wishes. The gentleman is close-minded and fully believes women should be seen and not heard to discuss anything except fashion or the weather. He does not approve of education for girls, or even literacy. He has stated on multiple occasions that reading will cause women to develop ideas not suited to our role in life and I certainly hope he is right, in that respect. I wanted desperately for an education, though my parents believed it was unnecessary for my future role as a wife and would not agree to anything more than deportment and music lessons. I have… had… have,” Patience paused, unable to decide whether she should mention Mason and the uncertainty of his fate.

  Finally she threw in an offhand mention, “My brother helped me to some schooling, hid me in his cupboard when his tutor was present, brought me books by the score, and distracted my parents so I could read them uninterrupted. My sisters together share the intellect of a donkey, and make that fact known far and wide. Both married well and I fear for their daughters. It is not my intention to marry at all, or certainly not to someone who shares my parents' archaic ideas. Women can do many things now, maybe even vote someday soon and I want to be in the middle of it all. I want to see the world and not be stuck in one city or town, traveling to London for the season and bearing children to a man who respects me a great deal less than his horses.” She broke off the rant to look at Ada and was relieved to see only approval on the girl’s face, not the censure she was half expecting.

  “My engagement was announced publicly, I have a suspicion that I was the last person in our set to hear of it, and I left in haste, without properly preparing travel plans or suitable wardrobe.” She continued on with her story, speaking of eating the unripe apples and sleeping in the ice house and barns, but left out mention of stealing from the house’s garden. She very briefly glossed over the incident that had caused her to lose her few possessions, but saw sympathy and horror reflected by the girl. “So I was hiding in the woods, trying to decide where to go next when the storm came. I could not find shelter or relief from the rain that was pounding all sense from my head, so I climbed over the back wall and came in through an unlocked window. That’s when you found me.”

  Ada looked at Patience levelly. “You said the creature saw you. What did you mean by that?” she looked nervous as she waited for the answer.

  “I heard the great roaring coming from one of the rooms on the ground floor. I’m quite certain I was a bit out of my mind at that point, I was so cold and hungry that I followed the sound and peeked into the room where I saw it…him. What is it? I’ve never heard of anything like it really. Is it a Bigfoot?”

  “A what?” Ada asked.

  “It’s a creature from the Americas. The Indians speak of a creature huge like a bear, but more man-shaped, who walks on legs like ours and has a face sort of like a big ape. But more intelligent. I read about it in a book once.” Patience was proud of her knowledge and she hoped she had guessed right. It would make her more interesting to the other girl and maybe she’d want to let Patience stay if she proved she wasn’t afraid of the beast.

  Ada shook her head, looking confused. “I don’t think so. At least, I don’t know exactly what he is. Just that he has a terrible temper and tends to eat visitors. He mustn’t know you are here. That's why you’ll have to go in the morning.” That last part sounded almost reluctant.

  “But he did see me. At least, he looked right at me, and he did not hurt me. Unless he is blind? But then he should have been able to smell me, I think. I was in the room with him and he turned toward me and then just turned away again and roared out the window.”

  Inquisitiveness warred with nervousness on Ada’s face and Patience wondered why.

  “What else did he do?” Ada asked, though she seemed unsure if she wanted an answer.

  “He just paced back and forth in front of the window. He roared a lot, it quite frightened me at first. That is all I saw him do. He seemed quite angry but he did not hurt me or chase me. Can he speak? Is he your master? What is it like working for a creature instead of a person?”

  Despite her tiredness, Patience was too curious to let the chance for answers pass her by. She wanted to know about the creature, the same way she’d wanted to know about all the animals at the zoo when she was a child and had driven the zookeeper half-crazy as he tried to answer all her questions. Her mother had been very angry with her for pestering the man, and that was the last time she’d been taken on an outing of that type. After that they kept to parks and promenades and shopping, none of which interested Patience enough to bring up any questions.

  Ada shook her head. “It’s too hard to explain. It’s very late now, you must be getting to sleep. Morning will come very soon.”

  As if on cue, Patience yawned widely. Embarrassed, she tried to conceal it but didn’t do a very good job. Her exhaustion suddenly felt like it was weighing her down. She returned her empty teacup to the saucer-she hadn’t even realized she’d finished her tea and stood up. The girl led her back up the stairs and opened a door that had previously been closed. It led to a smallish room that was very neat and tidy. The bed was freshly made with crisp sheets and a thick quilt to keep out the chill.

  Patience’s bare feet stepped onto a thick rug with relief. It was too cold to be wandering the house without shoes and she wondered what she’d been thinking, except that she hadn’t been offered slippers, and she didn’t know where her boots were anyway. She suddenly remembered that she’d made a mess, dripping all over the hallway and on her visit to the library, and felt ashamed at making extra work for Ada. No wonder the girl wanted her gone. She started to apologize but Ada cut her off.

  “It doesn’t matter. It's just water, and it can be quickly taken care of in the morning. Now, climb under the covers before you take any more of a chill and I’ll be back to fetch you in the morning.”
>
  Yawning again, Patience did as instructed, relishing the warmth of the fabric over her. A small fire had been laid in the grate and it kept the worst of the cold away from the small room. She smiled at Ada. “Thank you. Likely you saved my life tonight. If I had taken sick I would have had no chance at all.”

  Ada waved away the suggestion. “I understand about not having choices or chances. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning.” She handed Patience the lamp she carried and turned around, closing the bedroom door behind her.

  Patience placed the lamp on the bedside table and turned it down to the very faintest glow. She closed her eyes and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Seven

  Patience had just opened her eyes upon a room full of light when a knock sounded at her door.

  “Come in,” she called, sitting up and stretching luxuriously under the covers.

  She felt no shame being seen in her nightgown, this was generally how her morning started, and she was surprised when Ada entered the room keeping her eyes averted from Patience and the bed. Ada carried a tray crammed with different breakfast foods. There were eggs cooked at least three ways, sausages and some sort of roast meat, potatoes and tomatoes and bread with little pots of something to spread on them. There were several kinds of greens and a few things Patience didn’t recognize at all. Her eyes widened at the amount of food. She quickly moved the lamp away from the bedside table to make room for the laden tray. Her home life provided opulent breakfasts on a daily basis, but since she’d left, the scarcity of food had become a regular occurrence and the idea of all this food just for her seemed suddenly strange and foreign.

  Ada plopped the tray down and removed a basket that Patience hadn't noticed from the crook of her arm, placing it on the floor beside the table. From her other arm she draped Patience’s dress and underthings onto the bed and dropped her boots beside it. Patience stared at the boots, suddenly remembering what she’d left out of her story the night before.

  Ada nodded. “I know you were here before last night. And I found your boots around the side of the house where you dropped them.” She said this forthrightly.

  Patience blushed. “I did not think you would let me stay if you knew I was stealing from your garden. I was just so hungry and I did not know where to find food. I deeply apologize and if there is ever anything I can do to make it up to you, I will.”

  Ada shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter. There’s lots of food in the garden. That’s why I didn’t say anything. You’ve only come a few times, and I watched to make sure you weren’t taking more than I could spare. It’s not your fault you were hungry, not really.”

  Patience lowered her eyes to the tray and then looked back up at Ada. “It looks as if I might never be hungry again, should I consume all of this. Please tell me this is not all for me.”

  Ada shrugged again. “I don’t know what you like to eat for breakfast, so I brought you a few options.”

  “A few options that might feed an army barracks,” Patience teased, lifting the tray onto the bed so she could reach it and noting that the other girl smiled in response. Patience was relieved that Ada wasn’t angry about the stealing. “Do take a seat and help me manage this breakfast.” She drew her legs up and shifted over in the bed, patting the mattress beside her in invitation for Ada to join her.

  Ada eyed the space and blushed. Patience noted that she even did that prettily, a pale rose flush in her cheeks, not at all splotchy or dark. She knew she wouldn’t have managed to look so well if she were as embarrassed as Ada seemed.

  “I couldn’t. Really. I made the food for you,” Ada insisted.

  “And you made a grand amount of food, so unless you want it wasted, you have no choice. Unless you want to invite the beast up to partake?” Patience clamped her mouth shut, suddenly afraid Ada might do just that. She really did not want to share a meal with a creature as likely to eat her as the eggs and toast.

  Ada shook her head forcefully. “No! He mustn’t know you are here.” She reluctantly took the space on the bed, after searching the room with her eyes and discovering a lack of chairs or other seating possibilities.

  Patience was amused again. How strange this girl was. So proper in some respects and strangely free in others. She had certainly never met a servant girl who acted anything like Ada, nor any of her own set. She thought she might be able to make friends with this stranger, something that she’d never really managed with the girls she knew at home, even her own sisters. She wondered if Ada could read, or if she liked to. It would be so nice to discuss books with someone again. She hadn’t had the chance since Mason left. She almost posed the question, but how did one tactfully ask if another person could read? Shaking her head she applied herself to spreading what looked like raspberry jam onto a piece of toast.

  As there was no second set of cutlery, Ada picked up a roasted tomato in her fingers, cupping her other hand below in case a seed dropped. “Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, shoving the fruit whole into her mouth and freeing her hands to reach down to the basket. She pulled out the copy of David Copperfield that Patience had been reading when she fell asleep in the library. “I thought you might want to finish the story,” she mumbled around her mouthful.

  Patience wiped her hands carefully on the linen napkin that had been tucked under one of the plates before taking the book from the other girl. “Does that mean I can stay?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh no. I mean, you couldn’t. But I thought you could take it with you. There are so many books here, many more than I could ever read. And it would keep you company, I thought.” Ada blushed again, her words tumbling over each other.

  Patience’s heart sank but she bit back her disappointment. “Have you read it? David Copperfield I mean?” That was much more polite than asking if Ada could read, she thought with satisfaction.

  Ada nodded. “Several times. It was one of my father’s favorites and he gave it to me before I turned ten.”

  If Ada had been encouraged to read by her father, it was a vast divergence from Patience’s upbringing. She wondered how different her life would have been with a parent who had more interest in a daughter’s mind.

  Ada was still talking. “He always brought home Dickens, really he brought home every book he could get his hands on. He would read them and then give them to me, so we would have things to talk about. When I was very young he would read the stories to me, nearly every night before bed. And sometimes he would forget himself and would read all night, even if I fell asleep. I’d wake up and he’d still be reading out loud as if I hadn’t missed a word.”

  She giggled, but then stopped and looked sad.

  “Do you still see him?” Patience asked.

  Ada’s eyes filled with tears. “He went away, on a journey, and he hasn’t come back. I don’t have any idea where he’s gone,” she swallowed heavily, “but sometimes he’s so absentminded, he will head off somewhere and get completely turned around and interested in something new. Once he went away for four months and hadn’t realized he’d been gone more than a few weeks. When I was young I’d be sent off to London to stay with my mother’s sister Agatha. She was like your parents, I think,” Ada ventured. “She wanted me to be a ‘proper young lady’ and never say anything and dress perfectly and wear a corset, even before I was twelve. I hated it there,” she confided in Patience. “I always begged my father to take me with him. And sometimes he did for shorter trips. And when I was thirteen I simply refused to be sent to London, so I stayed at home. Of course, there were other people there, but no one much minded what I did so I could read all day or built a fort out of pillows or walk through the woods for hours and no one was bothered.”

  “Not even your mother?” Patience asked. She was never left alone for five minutes to do as she liked. She could barely imagine whole days of it, or at least she couldn’t have before she ran away.

  Ada shrugged again. She seemed to do that a lot. Patience tried
it, another thing she would have been castigated for at home. “My mother died before that. She was sick for a while, too, but I know she loved me. She would read to me too, or tell me stories that she made up in her head. I don’t remember much about it but my father always reminds me of everything about her. So I won’t forget. I wish I had a daguerreotype. I don’t remember very well what she looked like, though father says I look just like her, so maybe I can see her if I look in the mirror long enough. I try it sometimes, but I haven’t found her yet.”

  “So how did you come to be here?” Patience asked.

  Ada’s face closed off. “I’ve been here a while,” she stated, clearly intending not to discuss it further. Patience thought she could imagine the story. A lone girl whose father disappeared, and with no resources. What else could she do but go into service? She might have tried for a governess’ position, but she was young, lacked references, and her manners were too relaxed to find a place in a good home. Patience was in a similar position and she hoped Ada’s kindred situation could help her.

  She applied herself to the breakfast and didn’t ask any more questions for a while, as she sliced up eggs and toast and sausage, encouraging Ada to eat as well. The roasted meat tasted a bit like rabbit, and she wondered where it had come from. She decided that might be a neutral enough question to get the conversation back on track.