Stroke of Twelve: Chapter 8

"We're here, ma'am," the coachman said. Cendra picked up her suitcase and nervously stepped out.

"Thank you, sir," she told him as she paid him the fare. He simply nodded in reply and drove off, without so much as a "Have a nice day".

Not that it would have comforted her if he did, for Cendra certainly did not feel as though it were a nice day.

A week before, she had spoken with her mother about the housemaid job. She really didn't think anything would come out of it, and she had hoped her mother would think the same, but she was completely wrong. Mrs. Flaxfield had pounced on the opportunity, hastily writing a letter to a friend of her's who she said could talk to Lady Claxton. Cendra was surprised, as she really hadn't known her mother had a noble friend in the crown city. And she couldn't believe that she would get a job there, either.

She still couldn't believe it. Even standing at the gate of Claxton Mansion, in the city, miles away from home, she kept hoping that she would wake up and find it all a dream. A nightmare, really. Shy, awkward Cendra Flaxfield, daughter of her small town's needy invalid widow, was housemaid for Lady Claxton and her family. Not that was some great sophisticated job or anything of the sort, but it was still intimidating and incredible that in one simple week she had left behind everything she knew to start a new life.

Forcing herself to take strong, purposeful steps, Cendra moved through the front gate and down the path to the front door. The house was large and intricately decorated, even from the outside she could see the frilly curtains, and the expensive vases full of flowers set on the windowsills. There were hedges and flowers on either side of the path, and other smaller paths running off, no doubt towards delightfully secluded sections of the garden.

And to think, this was only the city house. The property was limited because of the other noble's houses nearby; it's purpose was for when the family wished to reside nearby the castle, to be ready for any balls and gatherings held there. Cendra couldn't even imagine what the country mansion must look like. But how could she? Her own home was a small two-story with a leaky thatch roof.

Her knock on the door sounded bold, though her hand shook slightly as she administered it. She waited nervously a moment, and then mentally slapped herself as she realized there was a doorbell. Good way to make a first impression, she told herself. She grabbed the rope and pulled.

Not a second later the door opened and a blank faced maid stood there.

"Welcome, my lady," she said hurriedly, "Please step inside and-" she stopped suddenly and glared at Cendra. "Who're you?" she asked irritably. "If you've come here to bother my mistress for charity, let me tell you now, you're wasting your time. She cannot be bother now. Didn't you know Fridays are her lady's club days?"

"Cendra Jane Flaxfield. I'm the new housemaid." Cendra did her best to sound professional.

"Not yet you aren't. You have to go through testing first," the maid said, then sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping. Please come inside; I'll take you to the housekeeper. We've got to hurry, because guests will be arriving in a few minutes."

"Okay," Cendra said, hurrying to follow the maid. She looked at the girl as they walked, and realized she probably wasn't much older than her. They both had black hair, but Cendra was taller.

"My name's Anne," the girl said, noticing Cendra watching her. "I hope you'll overlook my temper, and maybe we'll get along."

After a few twists and turns, they arrived at a door. Anne opened it without knocking, and Cendra realized it was the kitchen. A few servants, presumably cooks, were busy at the ovens.

"I can't take you any farther," Anne said regretfully. "Just go into the pantry; Miss Jane is in there discussing courses with the chef."

Cendra had no time to ask what Miss Jane looked like before Anne was gone. She braced herself and walked through the kitchen, avoiding getting in the way of the cooks. Heading towards a door on the far side of the room, she peeked inside to find a long room filled with shelves of stored food. She walked past them until she came upon two people.

The first was a man, tall and brown-haired, and slightly pudgy. From his clothes and apron, she could tell he was the chef, and he was talking in a fast, angry voice. Beside him, wearing an annoyed expression, stood one of the most beautiful women Cendra had ever seen. She was tall and stately, possessing a natural grace and authority. Her skin was pale, and her eyes a deep purple. Her grey hair was pulled back in an elegant bun, and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, though showing her age, did nothing to detract from her beauty.

When the lady turned towards her, ignoring the rant of the chef, Cendra took it as an opportunity to speak. "Excuse me, are you Miss Jane?"

The woman gave a stunning smile, "Why yes, dear. Am I right in assuming that you are Cendra Flaxfield, our newest tryout for the position of housemaid?"

"Er, yes, I am," said Cendra, surprised that she did not have to introduce herself.

"Good to meet you," Miss Jane said, shaking her hand. "Come with me and I'll brief you on what your job will be."

As they left the room, the chef stepped forward and opened his mouth as though to speak. Miss Jane held up a hand to silence him.

"It will be shellfish, Mr. Becket," she said sternly, "or you may bid farewell to your position in this house."

The chef glared at her, but shut his mouth. He turned and stalked away.

Miss Jane led Cendra through various rooms, describing what would need to be done and how she should do it. Cendra took it all in, vowing to remember the information. It wasn't too different from what she had to do at home, though there were some jobs that she had never had the need to do in her own house, such as dusting vases or arranging flowers.

"There, that's pretty much all of it," Miss Jane said, closing the doors to a dining room. "You'll only have to dust this room once a week, unless Lady Claxton entertains company in it. In that case, you'll have to clean before and after. Any questions?"

Cendra assured her that she understood everything perfectly.

"Good." Miss Jane nodded. "I will show you your room now."

After a few twists and turns, they reached a staircase.

"Your room is separate from the other servants' quarters," Miss Jane explained, "because for now you are only working in the far west wing of the house, unlike most others, who work in the front. In a few months, if you are deemed capable, you will be moved to a superior position."

Cendra struggled to hurry after Miss Jane's brisk pace, without tripping over the uneven steps. When they reached the top, they faced a small door.

"Your room lies inside," Miss Jane said. "Arrange your belongings in any way you like, and make yourself at home. Afterwards, if you head to the kitchen the cooks will give you something to eat, but avoid well-frequented hallways, and don't disturb anyone. Your work begins tomorrow at six, so be sure to get a good night's sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," said Cendra, feeling slightly dizzy from all the instructions.

"Oh, and one more thing," the other said, pausing on the top step, "you may call me Jane, as the other maids do. If you have any trouble with anything, just seek me or Anne out." She smiled that beautiful smile of hers again. "I understand how hard it must be for you, but I'm sure you'll do well."

With that, she hurried off, leaving Cendra in front of the door. Cendra decided she liked Miss Jane, even if she was very brisk and busy in everything she did. At least she was kind, and that definitely counted for something in Cendra's book.

She carried her luggage into the room and placed it beside the neatly made bed. It was such a relief to put it down, after carrying it around the whole time. She walked over to a small square window and looked out. It provided a view of the street, and a little bit of the garden. Looking up, she discovered that her room was on the highest floor of the house.

Cendra looked around again at the room, noting the bare walls, the rafters of the ceiling, and the slanted ceiling. The whole thing looked to be some kind of attic.

"Well," she muttered, looking between her suitcase and the small dresser, "I'd better unpack, then see about getting dinner."

...

"No! You didn't!" Cendra gasped. Connor, a friendly cook in his early thirties, was telling her of the his disastrous attempts at cooking when he was younger.

"As a matter of fact, I did," he said, laughing as he related a tale, "The delivery boy still had not arrived with the fish, so I went to the pantry and fetched a whole chicken, filleting the white meat and laying it out with the proper seasonings. Or rather, what the proper seasonings would be if it had been fish, but I'm afraid they did not sit well with the taste of chicken. Master Reginald thought the same, and had no qualms about telling me so in a very straightforward manner."

He went on to describe the aftermath of his failure, which was quite funny the way he told it, and involved the displeasure of an eccentric lady vegetarian who frowned at eating land animals but believed it was perfectly fine to eat fish.

Cendra was happy that she had mustered the courage to enter the kitchen for her meal. Though she had been very shy at first, and afraid of making the wrong first impression, Connor had been the only one in the room, and was very kind and humorous. In no time he had brought Cendra out of her shell with his hilarious anecdotes.

"You'd think I would have learned my lesson after that incident," said Connor, shaking his head and smiling, "but oh no, I had plenty of mistakes yet to make." He stirred the vegetables he was sauteing in a pan. "There was the time when I lost count of how much sugar I put in a cake, and somehow ended up doubling the amount. I don't think the end result tasted that bad myself, but it did not turn out how it was supposed to, and so was a failure."

"I wouldn't count that as a failure," Cendra said, "But I guess that's because at my house, we're always thankful for anything that tastes good."

"Thank you," said Connor, "but I suppose delicate ladies working to maintain their stick-thin figure and live up to their standards of beauty care more about the calories and sugar than a peasant family brought up in poverty." He paused a moment, then swiftly added, "I mean no offense, of course. I'm just assuming, what with you having to work here, that your family must have some reason behind it, and in these times…"

Cendra smiled at his rambling, and shook her head gently.

"Don't worry, I'm not offended. It's true my family is poor, but I'm not ashamed of the fact. My mother and I do our best to support our family, and if we could do any better we would."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Connor, relieved. "Too many people take a comment like that as an insult. I come from a poor family myself. I was raised, along with my three brothers and two sisters, in a small cottage in Gartshire, so I never look down upon those who come from the peasantry."

"I live some miles south of here, beside the Himintar," Cendra said. "It's difficult to explain, but I don't exactly live in a town. A lot of people built their houses close enough to fend off loneliness, but the place doesn't really have a name. We pay our taxes at a nearby town's office, and that's where we go to mail correspondence and such. Most people there like to keep to themselves, but they are kindly enough."

"That sounds interesting," Connor said as he handed Cendra a plate of steaming food. "There aren't any places in the north, probably because of all the big cities and towns up here. It's more… wild down in the southern part of the country. Anyway," he changed the subject, "What is your family like? It must be hard leaving them to come all the way to the crown city."

He took a seat, leaning against the back of his chair leisurely. He fixed Cendra with an expectant look.

"Umm," Cendra murmured, blushing, "I don't know where to begin."

"What about your siblings," Connor prompted, "you do have some, right?"

"Oh, yes," Cendra said, relieved to have something definite to talk about. "Well, I have two brothers. James is nine, and Thomas is six. They're very naughty, and always getting into trouble."

"They sound just like my brothers," Connor laughed, then his expression grew serious. "Well, how they were before they died, anyway."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cendra said awkwardly, unsure exactly how to respond.

"You've no need to be," Connor said softly, "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Cendra carried her empty plate to the sink and started to wash it. She was unaware that Connor was behind her until she felt the plate being pulled from her grasp.

"Why are you washing your dish? That job is for the kitchen boy," he said, laughing.

"Oh, right," Cendra said, embarrassed. "Force of habit, I guess." She yawned.

"You'd better get to bed, young lady," said Connor, becoming stern. "It's already seven."

"Seven!" said Cendra, half indignantly, as she yawned again. "Doesn't that seem a little early to you?"

"For me, perhaps," he said, eyes twinkling, "but considering your long journey today, and the fact that you have to get up at five tomorrow, I think it would be wise to retire early."

"Fine," Cendra huffed, walking towards the door. "Goodnight - it was nice meeting you!"

"'Night, Cendy," he called after her. She made a face, but stopped as she reached the door.

"You know," she said, turning and smiling at him sadly, "You would make a great dad."

"Where did that come from?" Connor joked, then, faking hurt, "I don't look that old, do I?"

Cendra laughed. "No, you're just very nice, that's all. And you know how to get someone to obey you without having to beat them."

She said it in a light tone, as though it were a joke. But as she traveled towards her room, she sighed.

"That means more to me than he could ever know."

Author's note: Hi guys! Thanks for reading! Please tell me how I did in this chapter, and as always, I'm open to all kinds of constructive criticism, positive and negative. I'm not sure whether or not I like Connor's name, but I'm really bad at naming characters, so I think I'll stick with it for now. In the next chapter we will see how Cendra handles her job, and what happens when she meets with her employer, the Dreaded Lady Claxton! :) Thanks again!

P.S. I just realized this chapter has the largest word count of all the chapters that I've written, so at this point it's the longest chapter in the book. :P