She makes the skin crawl a bit, though…
Daisy Robinson – well, no, Daisy Robinson-Mason would be more accurate, according to a civil status she'd rather forget about – was sitting in the servants' hall, idly flipping through a magazine while letting her mind wander and her eyes peep at the new recruit Mrs Hughes hired a few month ago to strengthen the house staff.
And those scars… I know it's not her fault, quite the contrary indeed, but still…
Alice Dillon, seemingly totally unaware of the scrutiny she was under, had her nose buried in whatever periodical was engrossing her whole attention right now.
And this long face she's pulling, like she's always in the doldrums… What would it cost her to pull on a smile once in a while?
Burying herself back in the weekly gossip, Daisy tried to get rid of those unpleasant thoughts. But the news didn't seem to be enthralling enough to dispel the uneasy feeling that seized her right before, by watching the last comer in Downton Abbey.
And these eyes! Sometimes it's as if… well, as if nothing, in fact. As if that look was dead. Nothing. Empty. Or else as cold as her hands.
Daisy had shivered, physically this time, when earlier in the day she had taken a clean dishcloth from the hands of the new maid who had just picked up the air-dried laundry from the clothesline.
Freezing. Her skin was freezing cold. Daisy, who had just been bustling around the kitchen, had felt this unpleasant contact against her own skin, pleasurably warmed up by the stove's heat. She had felt the shiver spread to her spine, and she only just hold back a faint shriek.
And honestly! she could say more than three words in a row every now and then! Been months since she's there, and I still hardly know her… as though each word she delivers costs her a certain amount of money deducted on her wages.
Again, Daisy glanced at Mrs Dillon – Alice, even if it seemed almost weird that such a person had a first name, or whatever human and personal for that matter – to try and spot the hint of a feeling, the start of the beginning of anything betraying some emotion, but no, nothing. Or at the most yes, this crinkle of the lion's wrinkle, there, between her eyes, while her gaze and seemingly all her attention remained set on this periodical she was engrossed in.
Somehow and all in all, this woman was a bit creepy.
Five days earlier, Daisy and Ivy attended with Jimmy and Thomas – no! Mr Barrow now, when would she finally get used to it? – to a screening of a motion picture. With no ulterior motive of course, and Mr Carson made sure to insist on this particular point before he allowed the four of them to take a night off all at once.
And the moving picture they watched then did greatly impress both Ivy and herself. Hearing that it was a German movie, she hesitated a bit, though. After all, the Germans had killed William. Therefore, wasn't it somehow betraying his memory to go and watch one of their movies? But Jimmy seemed very enthusiastic about it, and Thomas seemed curious to discover it. And after all, it being German didn't necessarily make it bad or wrong. Furthermore, it was after a novel by an Irish writer, so it was somehow nearly not totally German.
Thomas – no! "Mr Barrow", for God's sake! – got a kick from telling them it was a frightening story. Daisy felt rather ill worried about this but she did her best to not how him anything, he would have been far too pleased; on the other hand, it made Ivy even more eager to watch this movie.
So after two nights full of nightmares, Daisy found herself comparing one of her fellow co-workers to this Earl Orlok she had seen in the movie; though the housemaid had neither his long teeth, nor his pointed ears, or his bald head, his white skin, his long gnarled fingers… but it was more a general impression about her.
Enough for Daisy to feel the need to get up and leave the room and find refuge in the comforting cocoon that was the kitchen, Mrs Patmore's kingdom.
And that's where, a few hours later whilst Daisy and Ivy were bustling about tidying everything before going to bed, as like a black and white shadow Alice Dillon was passing by the corridor wishing good night to those still up on this late hour, Daisy Robinson bent towards Ivy Stuart and discreetly whispered in her ear:
"Tell me… after all… what if vampires really do exist?"