AN: Oi Oi - It's me the humble fanfic writer. I'd like to take a moment of your time and thank my readers for well, reading and request that you simply leave a review of my work so far. An buckle in, this tale is going to get bumpy xx
Clara Potter bent over on the floor, scrubbing at the stubborn mark. She cursed, if she had watched where she was going she wouldn't have tripped over that coal scuttle and spilt dirty black powder all over the mistresses bedchambers. Clara was a maid. At 14 years old she had left the orphanage to find work. This was her first position. She was lucky, there where over thousands of girls desperately looking for jobs like hers, and yet Clara had been on the streets only 3 days before being approached by Mrs Mawsham. Clara shuddered, that women gave her the creeps, almost 40 years old, round and red faced, Mrs Mawsham was the head cook of the household. She worked Clara hard, day and night, beating her with the cane at any given opportunity. Clara worked hard to avoid that cane. She doubled her efforts on the coal mark, soaking the rag in cold water again. It was no use, the rug was soaked and stained with black and her water bucket murky with dirt. Sighing Clara picked up the bucket and hastily ran downstairs, and out the back to the water pump. Standing outside in the cold December air she shivered. The sun had not yet risen and frost still covered the ground. Clara pulled her thin smock around her as she waited for the bucket to fill up.
Hurrying past the old clock in the servants stairway, Clara cursed. It was almost 7 o'clock and the children needed waking up with their morning tea and crumpets. That mark had put her almost half an hour behind schedule. She was in for a beating. Approaching the kitchen she heard Mrs Mawsham. Shouting, again. "For Christ's sake Lauren. How do you expect to serve that to the Master it's appalling!" This was here chance, get in and out of the kitchen before Mrs Mawsham noticed she was behind. Slowly cracking open the kitchen door, Clara crept in. The kitchen was dusty, hardwooden benches dotted around the room with various vegetables and meats upon them. Mrs Mawsham was standing by the fireplace, her back turned and stirring a steaming pot while berating the pantry girl, Lauren. Clara scanned the room for the tray she was to take up to the children. Spying it on the table directly behind Mrs Mawsham, she hurriedly made her way across the room. Her fingers had barely closed around the tray handles, Mrs Mawsham span around, her red face sweating from the kitchen heat. "Clara! What time do you call this! Half an hour behind schedule! I'd wager you slept in you lazy sod." spat the cook.
"No please ma'am, there was simply a mishap in the Mistresses bedchambers, I was up on time I s-swear" pleaded Clara. Unfortunately she had mentioned the wrong thing as Mrs Mawsham drew in her breath sharply. She seemed to inflate even more as she shouted "A mishap!"
"Oh no ma'am, Mrs Mawsham, it's all sorted now there is no need to beat me, i can still t-take up the children's trays ma'am please." Clara desperately started edging away from the conversation, tray in hand. "Don't you run away from me young girl. I knew you when I found you, you would turn out to be trouble. But I couldn't have your kind on the street, no, there are much better places for you" the cook growled menacingly slowing drawing the cane from her side. And then it struck her. Mrs Mawsham whipped the cane through the air and it came down with a sickening crack on Clara's left arm. The pain shot through her body and she dropped the tray, the china worth more than Clara would ever make in her life, shattered on the floor. Crack. This time the pain came from her shoulder blades, rippling across her back. Tears began to stream down her face as she lay, curled in a tight ball, Mrs Mawsham shredding her back.
Lauren soaked a small towel in water and gentle dapped it onto Clara's bleeding back. They were closeted in the pantry, tending to the red scars, zig-zagging across her flesh. "Sush, it's okay, it's over now" Lauren comforted. Clara wiped her eyes on her sleeve, she was ashamed. Clara had never cried at a beating before, or even spoken to Lauren, yet here she was, holed up in a closet with her, crying her eyes out. Lauren tucked her curly, mousey brown hair behind her ears, they were strangely pointed, Clara noticed. Now she thought about, a lot of things were unusual about Lauren's appearance. Her skin was pale and soft, like the richer folk and her eyes where shockingly green. Lauren was actually quite beautiful, and it was wasted on a maids work, thought Clara as she considered her own dirty blonde hair. "We got to make you look nice Clara, they'll be coming for you soon" murmured Lauren.
"What?" Clara replied "Who's coming for me?"
"Oh!" Lauren rushed "Forget I said anything, it's nothing!"
Clara busied on with work for the rest of the day desperately trying to avoid Mrs Mawsham. But late at night in the few hours of rest she had, Clara's mind kept going back to what she had said. "I couldn't have your kind on the street" Her kind? What did she mean? Clara wondered, itching to go, wake Mrs Mawsham up and demand answers. Clara did not move, though her bones aching and in need of rest, she dropped into a fitful sleep. Images flooded her mind as she dreamed. A dark tower. A shadow crosses the full moon. A hooting owl.
Clara woke up feeling nought but unsettled. She couldn't remember why. Something wriggled at the edge of her memory but the more she pulled the more it ran away. Sighing, Clara began her work. She didn't knock over the coal scuttle this time.
Hours later, the doorbell rang. A maid was sent to welcome the unexpected guest. If Clara had been there she would have seen a young man shrouded in a dark hood. As it was, Clara was outside and busy. As she walked back into the kitchen, a hush fell among the busy workers. Whispers followed her as she gathered her things. Lauren avoided Clara's gaze, looking ashamed of herself. Mrs Mawsham wasn't there. Someone came barrelling into the kitchen, another serving girl Clara didn't know. "Clara" she began hesitantly, in the silence of the room "There is someone here for you. They've come to take you away"