The House on Blackstone Moor (The Blackstone Vampires) by Carole Gill Page B
Authors: Carole Gill
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time.”
I stood down and smiled at the woman who by now looked somewhat more pleasant. Dr. Bannion introduced us. “Mrs. Mott is a treasure, Rose, and I am sure you will feel comfortable and at home.”
“I am certain I will, sir.”
I am not high born, so it might be surprising for me to say this—but I did find her manner forward. She was after all a servant.
The pecking order for domestic help in England was such that governesses stood apart in their own little sphere, housekeepers beneath that and maids and cooks next. Lowest were stable hands and scullery maids.
Everyone in England knew that, yet this Mrs. Mott enjoyed what I considered to be a great deal of familiarity. I was surprising myself with such opinions. What a little hypocrite I was, for what had I just been hired as?
I think I felt this way because I quite resented Mrs. Mott’s attitude toward me and wondered if I should change my opinion.
*
Dr. Bannion asked me if I was tired and I said I was. “Well then, you might wish to have supper in your room. I can have Mrs. Mott bring it up.
“Yes, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
I was glad to eat in the room, for I knew I should feel awkward eating at his table, yet I had no doubt at all that Mrs. Mott dined there all the time!
The room was small, but comfortable. It was cheery and dry and it faced the garden, which was pleasant.
I was tired and nearly nodding off when I heard a soft knock at the door. It was Mrs. Mott. “Tray for you, Miss Baines.” She smiled and put it down. “There’s a nice bit of stew, freshly made today, and a pot of tea as well.”
I assured her she was more than kind. I did notice cheeriness in her attitude as if some reassurance had been forthcoming from Dr. Bannion.
“It smells delicious, thank you, Mrs. Mott.”
She looked pleased and turned to leave. “One more thing, I shall be delighted to show you to the shop for your clothes. Dr. Bannion has told me you are to do some shopping.”
“Thank you, I am.”
“Good evening, enjoy your meal , ” s he said as she closed the door.
I did and ate every bit of it.
The excitement of the day caught up with me at last for I could not stop yawning. I climbed into the cozy bed and fell quickly asleep. I was awakened during the night by the sound of giggling and running footsteps past my door.
I smiled to myself. Clearly, she was Dr. Bannion’s woman.
Chapter 8
It amused me that she was his woman . Yet , I think if I am honest with myself I realized I was also jealous. Not so much jealous of her relationship with Dr. Bannion, I was instead jealous that I had no one in my life.
I had only known a nineteen year old boy whose fondness for me was not permitted to bloom, but was cut short by my father.
John was nice and I did like him, especially his eyes and steady gaze, the depth I saw in them, so clear, unblemished, and not riddled with insanity or depravity.
He would have been a nice young man for me to marry someday, to love and to bear his children, too.
Mrs. Darton had asked me about children. And now in reflection I suppose I thought I did long for them, for I wished to know what it would be like to be a mother, and to love as one.
The last I heard John had moved away. My brother told me. He told me in the gravest tone: “He has gone I heard, for I did ask. I didn’t say who was asking about him—just a former school friend had inquired about him, I said. They said he had gone to America.”
America. How I would have liked to go! I tried to imagine marrying him and bidding my parents goodbye, yes, even my father—for in this happy fancy I had driven out his madness and made him well.
Why not make dreams what you will, they’re dreams anyway, aren’t they?
We would be living in New York, I thought. Yes, in a modest flat near Broadway , and we would stroll along the streets and parks. He might bu y us a little dog.
But what if John preferred the W est?
“We shall be leaving for Texas, Rose. I
I stood down and smiled at the woman who by now looked somewhat more pleasant. Dr. Bannion introduced us. “Mrs. Mott is a treasure, Rose, and I am sure you will feel comfortable and at home.”
“I am certain I will, sir.”
I am not high born, so it might be surprising for me to say this—but I did find her manner forward. She was after all a servant.
The pecking order for domestic help in England was such that governesses stood apart in their own little sphere, housekeepers beneath that and maids and cooks next. Lowest were stable hands and scullery maids.
Everyone in England knew that, yet this Mrs. Mott enjoyed what I considered to be a great deal of familiarity. I was surprising myself with such opinions. What a little hypocrite I was, for what had I just been hired as?
I think I felt this way because I quite resented Mrs. Mott’s attitude toward me and wondered if I should change my opinion.
*
Dr. Bannion asked me if I was tired and I said I was. “Well then, you might wish to have supper in your room. I can have Mrs. Mott bring it up.
“Yes, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
I was glad to eat in the room, for I knew I should feel awkward eating at his table, yet I had no doubt at all that Mrs. Mott dined there all the time!
The room was small, but comfortable. It was cheery and dry and it faced the garden, which was pleasant.
I was tired and nearly nodding off when I heard a soft knock at the door. It was Mrs. Mott. “Tray for you, Miss Baines.” She smiled and put it down. “There’s a nice bit of stew, freshly made today, and a pot of tea as well.”
I assured her she was more than kind. I did notice cheeriness in her attitude as if some reassurance had been forthcoming from Dr. Bannion.
“It smells delicious, thank you, Mrs. Mott.”
She looked pleased and turned to leave. “One more thing, I shall be delighted to show you to the shop for your clothes. Dr. Bannion has told me you are to do some shopping.”
“Thank you, I am.”
“Good evening, enjoy your meal , ” s he said as she closed the door.
I did and ate every bit of it.
The excitement of the day caught up with me at last for I could not stop yawning. I climbed into the cozy bed and fell quickly asleep. I was awakened during the night by the sound of giggling and running footsteps past my door.
I smiled to myself. Clearly, she was Dr. Bannion’s woman.
Chapter 8
It amused me that she was his woman . Yet , I think if I am honest with myself I realized I was also jealous. Not so much jealous of her relationship with Dr. Bannion, I was instead jealous that I had no one in my life.
I had only known a nineteen year old boy whose fondness for me was not permitted to bloom, but was cut short by my father.
John was nice and I did like him, especially his eyes and steady gaze, the depth I saw in them, so clear, unblemished, and not riddled with insanity or depravity.
He would have been a nice young man for me to marry someday, to love and to bear his children, too.
Mrs. Darton had asked me about children. And now in reflection I suppose I thought I did long for them, for I wished to know what it would be like to be a mother, and to love as one.
The last I heard John had moved away. My brother told me. He told me in the gravest tone: “He has gone I heard, for I did ask. I didn’t say who was asking about him—just a former school friend had inquired about him, I said. They said he had gone to America.”
America. How I would have liked to go! I tried to imagine marrying him and bidding my parents goodbye, yes, even my father—for in this happy fancy I had driven out his madness and made him well.
Why not make dreams what you will, they’re dreams anyway, aren’t they?
We would be living in New York, I thought. Yes, in a modest flat near Broadway , and we would stroll along the streets and parks. He might bu y us a little dog.
But what if John preferred the W est?
“We shall be leaving for Texas, Rose. I
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