Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender is not owned by me
Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender is not owned by me.
Ch.1
The respected daughter of a gentleman and her granddaughter sat in the parlor of the revered Mr. Harry Cilstone, the family's lawyer since before Sokka and Katara were even born. The room was small and cozy, with dark paneling on the four tall walls. It is very grand, but not even as grand as Lady Kanna Drasinky's smallest mansion in the hills, or at least it used to be her mansion.
"Grandma, you know this is necessary, I have to do this. We can't keep living on Mr. Cilstone's generosity," Katara pleaded with Kanna, who was acting rather like a stubborn mule and not taking stock of the situation they were in.
"I don't see how it's necessary. Harry said we can stay here as long as we want and you know they won't hire a lady to do work as a house maid. You are the daughter of a gentleman, not some country peasant," Kanna fired back, her eyes intense, but her will slowly crumbling like the way her beautiful home in the hills of Poland probably was.
The war was hard on countless families and too many people needed jobs. Once very rich and respected, Kanna had three mansions, numerous jewels, and so many servants she could not even name them all, but the war changed that. Kanna's daughter died in the beginning when a raid happened on their native city. Their house was ransacked and everything worth any value stolen. They fled to their mansion in the hills, and Katara's father was called into service. With heavy hearts, Katara and Sokka watched their remaining parent go off to battle.
When enemy troops approached the village and were dangerously close to the family, they had to leave that home too, taking with them only what they could carry. News of a brutal battle in the southern border of their country left Katara and Sokka fatherless, with only their Grandmother to rely one. Now poor, with everything of value owned by them looted, or stolen right off their hands, they fled their native country and traveled to England, where their old lawyer assisted them.
The only gem not stolen was Katara's vivid sapphire necklace that once belonged to her mother as an engagement present. After her mother's passing, the large pendent was always seen on Katara's slim neck.
"They won't know I am a lady, because they probably don't keep a list of esteemed families in foreign countries," Katara replied calmly in her thick Polish accent, her w's acting as v's. "I will just be another foreigner in the countless ones here looking for work. The agency has already found a home in need of more servants and I've been accepted! I will send home my paycheck every week so you can at least pay a rent."
"Aren't you forgetting the small matter of what Sokka will say when he finds out you're working as a servant?" Kanna asked, bringing up a valid argument in her defense, "You know he's only finishing school because you want him too. If he finds out you're working as a maid, he'll catch the first train to London, and find a job himself, probably selling newspapers or something else as dirty as that."
"I won't tell him," Katara said sternly "He's away at that academy, he doesn't have to know.
"Fine," Kanna said sighing, "But this isn't going to be permanent. When I find a suitable match for you, he can support us."
Katara just fidgeted in her chair. She may be a Lady, but she was also a poor penniless Polish immigrant, with no parents. It would be hard to find a respectable gentleman to marry that kind of package.
Mr. Charlie Sidle, the head butler at Lord Zuko Clayton's mansion, but it was more of a castle, patiently distributed the day's work assignments. Today was the day the new maid would arrive from the agency, and who knew what they would send. He was not informed much about the new girl charged to be an extra hand around the large castle, now needing much additional help. He was told she was seventeen and foreign. No one seemed fit to make it known to him what nationality she actually was. Who knew if she was Russian, German, Bulgarian, or even Yiddish?
When the war started, and the master joined ranks fighting over sea, much of the house was closed off. The war now ended and its owner coming home, the many dusty, dank, and rundown rooms were being open. Every servant on hand and even the kitchen maids would be busy repairing, cleaning, and making the rooms presentable for its brooding master, a twenty year old and much eligible male.
Mr. Sidle who had seen Zuko grow from a toddler to an irritable teenager wished whole-heartedly for his happiness. He very much cared for the boy, and traveled with him and his Uncle when they moved into the mysterious castle he is now employed at. His uncle being retired and too old for the war stayed in the dark mansion the year his nephew was warring.
Zuko would be discharged from the hospital in seven days, and so in a week he would be traveling home. The nurses, who all fought over being the one to take care of him, healed his injuries of two broken ribs and a broken leg, which he received in a submarine explosion. Zuko always being an adamant horse rider, automobile driver, and anything that could move at a fast speed was employed as a captain in the navy and he also steered many submarines.
"Sarah! Polish the silver better than that!" barked Mr. Sidle, eyeing the less than average cleaning of the dinner set.
"Yes sir," mumbled Sarah in return, not in any mood to redo the job she thought was perfectly acceptable.
Mr. Sidle wandered down the many corridors and hallways of the Clayton Castle, advising where advice was needed, and ordering work to be done when the job being carried out was not satisfactory.
In harder times, when less people were employed, he would have to take part in the labor more frequently, but since the master was returning and more servants hired, he would no longer need to take part in any dirty work, such as beating carpets, scrubbing tapestries, polishing dinner sets, cleaning banisters, and dusting sculptures.
Katara hurried down the avenue, cursing the stupid train that held up the carriage taking her to her new servitude. Being late on your first day does not look good, especially if when you arriv your employers will be able to tell that you've never done that kind of work in your life.
The street Katara was practically sprinting down was lined on each side by deep forestry, but she did not have time to pay attention to the haunting feeling it inspired. The abode soon came into view, and Katara slowed to a walk, not wanting to be breathless when she was introduced. Carefully she ascended the hill that would take her to the walk which led to the back door. The house that was her new home, stirred a feeling of awe in the pit Katara's stomach.
The steep spiraling columns held up walls that led to turrets rising high into the sky. The pale brown stone cemented on the castle looked worn and old, even crumbling in a few places. Katara gulped and traveled through the overgrown gardens on the property; bushes advancing on the sidewalk, weeds two feet high growing in the cracks of the brick, roses in desperate need of love. She was now a maid at what could easily be Frankenstein's fortress.
Nervously Katara knocked once, twice, and a third time on the hard wooden frame.
"Aye, we've been wait'in for you," an older lady in a dirty apron announced swinging open the door, "Come on in lass and we'll give ye your assignments…Me name's Rose by the way."
"I'm Katara."
"I know, everyone ere does. We've all been in a jitter this morning awaitin the arrival of some foreigner. Everyone's been makin bets on where you is from. Looks like I lost," Rose said in her chunky English accent, "Lost me a whole day's wages sayin that I thought you'd turn out to be Swedish."
"Oh…My whole family's from Poland," Katara said tentatively, as she glanced around the kitchen she was being led into. A large wooden table bigger than half the parlor at Mr. Clistone's stood in the middle of the room. Meats, vegetables, spices, and other various food assortments hung on the walls or lay in wooden barrels on the floor.
"Looks like Teo won the gamble…humph…the kid don't even work as hard as the rest of us. He just roams around the grounds all day helping his dad with all the odds and ends the castle needs," Rose grumbled walking to the large table in the center of the kitchen, "Stay here while I go get Mr. Sidle. I'm sure the other workers will want to get a glimpse of ye anyway."
Katara sat lightly on a stool by the fireplace careful not to disturb the pot hanging over the billowing flames. The scent issuing from it was enticing, perfuming the air with the smell of cooking meat, chives, parsley, and carrots. Surprising her, a faint rumble sounded from her belly, reminding her that she ate no breakfast this morning because of the severe nervousness that came with a new circumstance.
The walls in the kitchen were a dark unwelcoming brown, just as cold as the outside appearance. Even though many lights burned on the ceiling, the room still felt chilly and lonely.
"You're the new maid," a girl who appeared to be about sixteen said cheerily as she popped through the doorway, "You'll be working with me. I'll be showing you the rooms and such, and the work you'll be doing when the boss-man releases you."
"The who?" Katara asked innocently.
"Suki! Go finish dusting the fifth guest room, and air out the curtains while your at it," Clipped Mr. Sidle walking into the kitchen, with Rose following a step behind him, "You can talk to her later when there's no work to be done."
"Yes Sir!" Suki said in a military-like voice, while raising her hand up in a brisk salute. Rose snickered, but hid it in her apron as she grabbed a broom and pretended to be sweeping. Mr. Sidle turned an odd color of purple, but quickly changed his shade back to the norm.
"I am Mr. Sidle, the head butler of the premises."
Gracefully Katara stood, the stool not moving a centimeter as she did. Elegantly, she bowed, her foot drawing a sophisticated arc on the dark wood floor, her head gently falling. Oh no, thought Mr. Sidle. This girl was clearly not a scullery maid or even the daughter of a scullery maid. Not even the daughter of a tavern maid. She was the daughter of someone born to privilege.
"Have you done this kind of work before?" Squeaked Mr. Sidle, "You don't seem to be exactly what we are looking for. We will assign to you hard labor, exertion you might not be prepared for."
"Oh! I will try. I will work my hardest! I promise you I won't stop or slack or not do my assignments. I'll get up at the crack of dawn and work until the sun has been long out of the sky. I promise I'll work hard!" Katara exclaimed a little louder then she meant. The nerves seemed to really be making it hard to control herself.
"Okay. I am just telling you so you know. I don't want you to be surprised when the work starts. We will pay you for the first week, and if your work is satisfactory then we will employ you for longer. The first seven days is a trial week."
Katara nimbly slipped the pale calico dress over her shoulders, and replaced it with her new uniform: a dark brown dress, white apron, and white starch cap in which she tucked every strand of her hair into. Formal occasions such as a dinner party required a gothic blue dress, black apron, and black cap.
Katara's room was situated in the farthest end of the servants' quarters. Its size was small, not even as big as the master suite's closet. The walls were dark, of course, considering every wall Katara had seen were a gloomy depressed color of paint. Her room was painted with a shade of pine green, a tint she actually liked; the color of the rolling trees of the forests of her homeland.
The room consisted of a small bed with a sheet that was once probably white, a table holding a lamp, the only source of light in the room, and a chest. A basin and pitcher sat on the floor by the chest, not having a table to be placed on. Katara dropped her luggage, a carpet bag, on the divan. She pulled out a vibrant quilt with a red poinsettia pattern and tucked it into the bed, giving the room much needed warmth.
The one other dress she owned was folded and placed into the chest by the door. On top of that, her favorite book Pride and Prejudice was laid. Katara was quite a romantic, reading all Jane Austen's novels, the Bronte sisters' books, and anything she could get her hands on. The last object pulled out of the dusty old bag was a black and white photograph of Kanna, Katara, Sokka, and their parents. After those objects were situated, the carpet bag was carefully positioned next to them.
Katara pinned up her hair, washed her face from the water in the pitcher, patted it dry, and ascended down the back staircase to meet her fate.
End of ch. 1. Hope you like it so far!!
Review!! They make me feel more inspired to write.