and Lady Elaine to do your work, too.”
Suitably chastened, Prudence followed Mrs. Harper up a steep staircase. Gaslights lit the cramped stairwell and countless feet had worn dips in the center of each step. How many servants spent their entire lives treading up and down these stairs?
After climbing for what seemed like forever, and passing several landings, they came out into a narrow, dark hall with doors on either side. The hallway smelled of mold, human sweat, and, oddly enough, vanilla.
“We call this petticoat hall. It’s for the female house servants. The men’s quarters are on the other side of the wing, and they are not allowed here. If you are caught fraternizing with the opposite sex, you will be dismissed without notice. You will receive thirty-two a year and will draw your wages monthly.”
Mrs. Harper paused in front of a door and took a large brass ring of keys out of her oversized pocket. She fiddled with it until she found the right key and then opened the door. Moving aside, she waited for Prudence to enter.
Swallowing, Prudence stepped inside a room that could not have been more than eight by eight feet. After the lovely home she’d just left, its starkness struck her heart like a physical blow. Old green paint flaked off the iron bed in the middle of the room, and the mattress sagged under the thin quilts. The one small window in the room was covered with coarse yellow burlap. Under the window stood a rickety chest missing several knobs. Its matching table sat next to the bed and held a chipped plain white bowl and pitcher for washing. Above the table was a small, cracked mirror. There was no closet.
On the bed lay two black-and-white-striped calico blouses and two plain black bombazine skirts.
“The cost of the uniforms will, of course, come out of your pay. I have a list of rules for you to be aware of. Please go over them as soon as possible. Mr. Cairn and I pride ourselves on how smoothly this house runs and there is always a risk with a new servant.”
A chill ran up and down Prudence’s spine, one that had little to do with the cold draft coming from the window. What was she doing here in this cramped room with this sour-faced woman? This was not her life. Her life was with Vic, Ro, and Sir Philip in a warm, gracious home filled with the sound of music and laughter. But Sir Philip was gone and it had never been clearer to her that that life was over.
Mrs. Harper rooted around in her pockets again and handed Prudence a sheet of paper and a key hanging from a long chain. “The key is to your room. Wear it around your neck. I always tell young girls who spend most of their time looking at their reflections to put the rules up next to the mirror until you have memorized them.”
Numbly, Prudence took both the key and the paper. Outside in the hallway, they heard a muttered oath and the stamping of feet. Mrs. Harper poked her head out the door. “Are those her belongings?”
Prudence had never thought she’d hear anything in Mrs. Harper’s speech except disapproval, but now her voice elevated in surprise.
Prudence and Mrs. Harper had to flatten themselves against one wall as four men, two in their bright velvet footman livery and two in rough work clothes, hauled the trunks into the small room. Prudence recognized one of the footmen as the one who had been so shocked at her being hauled out of the coach. He was a nice-looking young man, with plain features and friendly, greenish eyes.
The trunks, made of gleaming oak, were the most beautiful objects in the room. The men smirked, looking at the trunks, until Mrs. Harper shooed them out. The footman gave her another friendly smile before leaving the room.
Prudence waited for a moment before realizing that Mrs. Harper wasn’t going to leave until she got a peek into the trunks. Reluctantly, she knelt and opened the first trunk under Mrs. Harper’s critical eye. Because Prudence knew they were going to be at Summerset for an
Suitably chastened, Prudence followed Mrs. Harper up a steep staircase. Gaslights lit the cramped stairwell and countless feet had worn dips in the center of each step. How many servants spent their entire lives treading up and down these stairs?
After climbing for what seemed like forever, and passing several landings, they came out into a narrow, dark hall with doors on either side. The hallway smelled of mold, human sweat, and, oddly enough, vanilla.
“We call this petticoat hall. It’s for the female house servants. The men’s quarters are on the other side of the wing, and they are not allowed here. If you are caught fraternizing with the opposite sex, you will be dismissed without notice. You will receive thirty-two a year and will draw your wages monthly.”
Mrs. Harper paused in front of a door and took a large brass ring of keys out of her oversized pocket. She fiddled with it until she found the right key and then opened the door. Moving aside, she waited for Prudence to enter.
Swallowing, Prudence stepped inside a room that could not have been more than eight by eight feet. After the lovely home she’d just left, its starkness struck her heart like a physical blow. Old green paint flaked off the iron bed in the middle of the room, and the mattress sagged under the thin quilts. The one small window in the room was covered with coarse yellow burlap. Under the window stood a rickety chest missing several knobs. Its matching table sat next to the bed and held a chipped plain white bowl and pitcher for washing. Above the table was a small, cracked mirror. There was no closet.
On the bed lay two black-and-white-striped calico blouses and two plain black bombazine skirts.
“The cost of the uniforms will, of course, come out of your pay. I have a list of rules for you to be aware of. Please go over them as soon as possible. Mr. Cairn and I pride ourselves on how smoothly this house runs and there is always a risk with a new servant.”
A chill ran up and down Prudence’s spine, one that had little to do with the cold draft coming from the window. What was she doing here in this cramped room with this sour-faced woman? This was not her life. Her life was with Vic, Ro, and Sir Philip in a warm, gracious home filled with the sound of music and laughter. But Sir Philip was gone and it had never been clearer to her that that life was over.
Mrs. Harper rooted around in her pockets again and handed Prudence a sheet of paper and a key hanging from a long chain. “The key is to your room. Wear it around your neck. I always tell young girls who spend most of their time looking at their reflections to put the rules up next to the mirror until you have memorized them.”
Numbly, Prudence took both the key and the paper. Outside in the hallway, they heard a muttered oath and the stamping of feet. Mrs. Harper poked her head out the door. “Are those her belongings?”
Prudence had never thought she’d hear anything in Mrs. Harper’s speech except disapproval, but now her voice elevated in surprise.
Prudence and Mrs. Harper had to flatten themselves against one wall as four men, two in their bright velvet footman livery and two in rough work clothes, hauled the trunks into the small room. Prudence recognized one of the footmen as the one who had been so shocked at her being hauled out of the coach. He was a nice-looking young man, with plain features and friendly, greenish eyes.
The trunks, made of gleaming oak, were the most beautiful objects in the room. The men smirked, looking at the trunks, until Mrs. Harper shooed them out. The footman gave her another friendly smile before leaving the room.
Prudence waited for a moment before realizing that Mrs. Harper wasn’t going to leave until she got a peek into the trunks. Reluctantly, she knelt and opened the first trunk under Mrs. Harper’s critical eye. Because Prudence knew they were going to be at Summerset for an
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