Chapter 21
Thomas Barrow lifted the hoover onto a table in the work yard behind the Abbey. It had been five days with less staff and five days of complete chaos above and below stairs in his estimation. Today the maids had attempted to use the new hoover after a great deal of coaxing on his part. Not twenty minutes later one of them had come running when it was making a peculiar sound and wouldn't suck. He'd unplugged the machine and brought it outside.
He took off his jacket and set it to the side before he opened the canister to see it was full of a huge hairball. His lip curled in disgust when he discarded it by jabbing it with the end of the screwdriver he was using and carrying it at arms length to the rubbish barrel. He continued to take the machine apart and promptly set to work attempting to unplug the hose when he realized there was something lodged inside. He spotted a long stick by the woodpile and went to fetch it to try pushing whatever it was out one end or the other.
Life as the head butler was a great deal different than what he thought it would be. There were only twelve staff plus the nanny left from the thirty there had been a month previously. Molesly was kept busy acting as valet and helping serve. Miss Baxter was occupied seeing to both ladies in the house. There were two maids for light house keeping and making beds and two house boys to see to the fires and some general sweeping up below stairs. With the three left in the kitchen and the nanny that was all the live in staff that was left.
Two days ago Mrs. Patmore had run screaming from the kitchen when the timer on the electric cooker had gotten stuck in the on position. There had been a few heart stopping moments when they all grabbed fire pails and headed into the room only to find a pot merrily boiling over and the ringer blaring until Thomas had managed to wiggle it enough it shut off.
Yesterday had been the first time with the day cleaning crew in. He'd caught one of them riffling through the silver drawer in the butler's pantry having a look. He'd fired the woman on the spot. Now half of the cleaning wasn't done for the week, the hover was already broken down and this morning Lord Grantham had complained for the fifth morning in a row about his paper not being ironed and getting ink on his hands.
Thomas finally jiggled the stick he was using on the clog enough a piece of lint-covered fabric popped out the end of the hose. He pulled a sock from the end of the hose, beat it against the table a few times to get the accumulated dirt off and began putting the hoover back together. There was enough time before luncheon the maids could finish the vacuuming the bedrooms if they were quick about it.
He wasn't looking forward to his meeting this afternoon with Lady Grantham. He'd worked out a staff schedule that was easier to follow and gave the staff more free time than the one she had created with Mr. Carson. He doubted she would accept it and was anticipating a long list of questions as to why things weren't done. The upstairs still seemed to think things would go on as they had always done despite the cutbacks. He just didn't know who they expected was going to do the work.
-0-
The trip across Germany had gone quite quickly once he had gotten in with smugglers. They traveled by night and sometimes by day right under the noses of the police. He had passed from barge, to lorry and back again at least four times. Trust was something he didn't have in the smugglers and it was not something they gave lightly to strangers. The only thing that united Michael with them was the fact none of them wanted to be discovered by the police. When he reached the outskirts of Dusseldorf he had walked away in the middle of the afternoon when the lorry he was on had stopped to repair a punctured tire. The Netherlands wasn't far. If he could only make it across the border without being detected he would breath a sigh of relief.
Michael walked into the outskirts of Dusseldorf. He stopped at a barbershop and had a haircut and shave without saying a word to the proprietor. He placed a few marks on the counter when the man was done and exited the shop. His next stop was a seedy hotel. He pretended to be mute and wrote his request for a room on a piece of paper. This time there was a tub and running hot water much to his surprise in the washroom. The place was far from clean but at this point he didn't care as he got in and scrubbed the weeks of grime from his skin. He lay back in the tub and savored the feel of the hot water for a moment as he watched the single bulb hanging from a cord overhead sway and bounce in time with the sounds of a prostitute plying her trade in the room above.
When he was done the bath, he returned to his room. It was getting late and a bad time to make his way out of the city. He pulled on a clean pair of under drawers and an undershirt. He hung his suit over a chair to help get the wrinkles out. He would have liked something to eat but he didn't want to put himself more out in public than was necessary. Tomorrow or the next day he would make it over the border. He lay down on the lumpy cot and stared sightlessly at the ceiling planning his next move.
-0-
Rose checked her appearance in the mirror in the ladies room one more time and returned to her desk to retrieve a folder. She had been at Whitehall almost three weeks and it had been a far cry from what she had expected. The first day she had been shown to a shabby desk in a room with twenty other desks. There was easily an inch of dust on the desk and boxes of folders had been stacked on the surface and on the floor beside.
"What are all these boxes for?" she asked Miss Whistleton the section secretary.
"They're for you. Treaties and copies of negation notes from the last ten years," Miss Whistleton replied snidely. She didn't approve of young women working in government especially noble women.
"Oh my, there are quite a lot," Rose said. She took off her gloves, held them in one hand and looked at the pile. "Is there a custodian?"
"For what?" Miss Whistleton snapped. The young women in front of her was wearing a dress better suited to a garden party complete with hat, pearls and gloves in the middle of an office of business.
"To clean this mess," Rose gestured to the desk.
"There's a closet in the hall with supplies. You'll have to clean it yourself," Miss Whistleton replied. She turned and stalked back to her desk.
Rose looked up to see some of the men at the surrounding desks snickering slightly. They quickly looked back to their papers.
"I suppose I will," Rose said. She walked to the door of the office and left the room.
"That's the last we'll see of her," one of the men from the section she was assigned to said to the man at the next desk.
Five minutes later a custodian in a brown coat followed Rose to her desk. The custodian was carrying a bowl of flowers that looked as if they came from the main reception area.
"Once you've cleaned this area, would you be so kind as to open the windows?" Rose said to the custodian. "It is dreadfully stuffy in here."
"Would there be anything else, Lady Rose?" the custodian asked as he quickly wiped down the desk and placed the bowl of flowers for her.
"I'll let you know in a moment," Rose replied. She set down her gloves and handbag on the desk once it was clean. She checked the dates on the boxes while the custodian was opening the windows. He was back at her elbow in a few moments.
"I'd like these boxes arranged by date. You can stack them along here," Rose said. "This one can be left on the desk for now."
"I'll empty your rubbish bin before I leave," the man said.
"If you would be so kind," Rose replied. "I will be arriving by eight most mornings. Please see my desk is cleaned and fresh flowers are put out daily."
"Of course, Lady Rose," the custodian replied. He was gone in a few minutes. Rose got busy taking the folders out of the first box and placing them on her desk.
A man she had been introduced to when she was offered the position approached her desk just as she had opened the first folder.
"Miss MacClare, I see you've settled in," John Neilson said with a frown. He was somewhere in his late thirties, with dark hair and a serious expression. He hadn't smiled once at their previous meeting.
"Lady Rose. I will be using my formal title." she corrected him.
"Lady Rose," he said pressing his lips together. He wasn't too pleased having a debutant forced on him. He didn't have time for any shenanigans. He didn't know why Sir John had insisted on hiring this woman and placing her on his team. Sir John was insisting she be included in all negotiations. He didn't have time for this. He quickly introduced each of the four other men on the team pointing to each in turn. They each nodded without saying a word and went right back to work. "There are briefings every Tuesday at eleven and Friday at ten in my office. Try not to be late. If you need anything ask Miss Whistleton."
"I'll be sure to let her know if there is anything further I need," Rose replied with a smile.
Two of the men from her team approached her desk during the morning tea break and reintroduced themselves. The one man at the next desk to hers was married, had a round face and even rounder spectacles and said very little. The other man serious and seemed to have his nose stuck into a book or folder constantly. The other two who clearly resented her presence had ignored her. All of the men only addressed her only when they had to.
Rose had sat through the first two weeks of meetings and listened. She had only asked one or two questions as she had only managed to read through the first four boxes of files. During one of the meetings John Neilson announced they would be hosting a delegation from Norway in ten days.
"May I ask who reviews the menus and the arrangements for the negotiation meetings?" Rose asked.
"Whistleton takes care of everything. You don't have to bother yourself, Lady Rose," John Neilson replied snidely. The other men all got half smiles on their faces and shook their heads slightly.
After the meeting Rose approached Miss Whistleton for copies of the menus and arrangements that had been made. She'd had to insist quite forcefully to see the folder with the arrangements and Miss Whistleton had stalled for most of the day. After a few minutes of reading over the file with the menu Rose had asked Mr. Fraser the very round man at the desk next to hers how to go about requesting documents from other departments.
"I would think you have enough to go through already," he said. "But if you want more fill in one of these and give it to Whistleton. You should have the documents you want by lunchtime tomorrow."
"Thank you ever so much," Rose had replied. She'd filled in the form on Tuesday. Thursday morning there was no sign of the documents she had requested. She had gone to ask Miss Whistleton if the documents had been delivered.
"I'm busy," Miss Whistleton snapped.
"Yes, I can see how busy you are," Rose said. She had spotted her requisition sitting in the dustbin beside Miss Whistleton's desk. Rose had noticed there were a number of documents the other's were looking for that hadn't arrived as well. Miss Whistleton was nice as pie to Mr. Neilson and the other department heads but she barely gave the juniors such as herself the time of day. Rose had returned to her desk and made a few phone calls.
"If anyone is looking for me, I'll be downstairs," Rose said to Mr. Fraser once she was off the telephone. She had gone to another office and made a few inquiries. By the time she was back the files she had requested were on her desk. It hadn't taken her long to go through them and make her notes. Here it was Friday morning and she was taking her place in John Neilson's office waiting for the meeting to begin.
Once the meeting started Rose couldn't help but think she had never known as many species of fish existed as were being discussed. The men talked about fishing seasons, various runs and different fishing fleets. The majority of the meeting was taken up with discussion of the distances from shore and overlaps of the various fishing grounds they would be negotiating at the upcoming meeting.
"We'll wrap up if there isn't anything further," John Neilson said.
"I have a number of questions and comments," Rose said.
"We don't have time for nonsense," John Neilson replied with an exasperated sigh.
"My role as I understand it as part of this group is to help smooth the negotiation process," Rose replied calmly. "How would you have me complete my assigned tasks if I don't contribute?"
"Very well, but do try to be brief," he sighed.
"I would like to know if the diplomatic branch is contacted before each set of negations begins," Rose asked.
"No, why would we?" John questioned with a frown.
"Were you aware pork medallions with mushroom sauce were ordered for the dinner the first evening and the dinner on the second night was to be held at Kew Gardens?"
"What difference does that make?" John demanded irritably. All of the other men nodded their heads in agreement.
"While it all sounded quite nummy, if anyone had bothered to check the diplomatic briefs I would say a substantial one," Rose replied. "The lead Norwegian delegate gets quite a nasty rash from mushrooms and suffers from hay fever. I would say itching and sneezing through four days of negotiations would not encourage anyone to be amenable to the other side."
"Well, we hadn't thought of it. Why haven't you consulted Whistleton about this?"
"Miss Whistleton is rather, well how should I say this, resistant to suggestion and slow to act. I've noticed a number of document requisitions seem to have slipped off her desk into the dustbin including yours Mr. Darrow." Rose nodded to one of the men in the room who barely acknowledged her presence at the best of times. "Weren't you looking for the financial reports for fish purchased by England during the last quarter of 1925 from Irish ships?"
"That's a serious accusation," John Neilson stated angrily.
"If you care to check I'm sure the requisitions are still there as the custodian hasn't collected the rubbish since Wednesday," Rose replied. "I've taken the liberty of selecting a replacement from the secretarial pool if you are agreeable. She comes highly recommended and had two years with a hotel before coming here."
"Stay here," John Neilson stated. His face was red with anger. He went straight to Miss Whistleton's desk and collected her rubbish bin. Rose didn't look over to see the scene that was going on in the main office, but she could hear a great deal of raised voices. The other men in the office were craning their necks to see what was going on.
"The fat's in the fryer now," Mr. Fraser commented while they all waited.
"How did you know?" John Neilson demanded when he returned.
"When my file requisitions weren't filled, I took the liberty of telephoning the departments myself to see if they had arrived. It wasn't difficult to find out why they hadn't once I made inquiries," Rose replied. "That is neither here nor there. The transfer document requires your signature for Miss Charlotte Grill to be moved here from the secretarial pool and Miss Whistleton to be moved down." Rose produced a document from her folder and handed it to John Neilson. He quickly signed it and handed it back.
"Now as to the arrangements and menu. I've taken the liberty of drawing up a new menu and schedule of events. I'll have Miss Grill take care of things this afternoon once she arrives. I do suggest you allow me to review all arrangements in future to ensure protocol is followed and these details aren't missed."
"Is there anything else, Lady Rose?" John Neilson inquired with grudging respect. The other men were all looking at Rose with surprised looks. Her dress, hat and shoes today were all pink. She was the picture of grace and style in the middle of a cramped office with papers and files stacked everywhere.
"There is one more thing," Rose continued. "Mr. Neilson are you free this evening to attend a diplomatic function?"
"I beg your pardon," he replied with his mouth slightly open.
"There is a reception tonight at the American Embassy. I believe the Ambassador from France and the Irish Ambassador will be in attendance. It may be prudent to start laying some ground work as we have negotiations on the roster with both countries before the end of the year."
"It's a waste of time. Both countries are impossible to deal with. We've only had minimal success in our last two negotiations," he replied. The other men nodded their heads.
"Then we shall work to change that," Rose replied. "As you are the lead negotiator Mr. Neilson and the only single man on the team, I am asking you to act as my escort to the reception this evening unless you have a special young lady you would like to bring. I can easily arrange a friend to accompany me and have you added to the guest list."
"I can make myself available," he agreed through clenched teeth. "You don't need to invite anyone else."
"Wonderful," Rose replied with a smile. "I'll have Miss Grill arrange a car from the motor pool once she arrives. I'm afraid my brother has taken his chauffeur out of town along with him. It's dreadfully inconvenient."
"A taxi will suffice," he said.
"I don't want to take the chance of damaging my dress," Rose replied. "I need to get at least one season out of it. Do you have tails or will I have Miss Grill arrange them for you as well?"
"I have tails," he replied in exasperation.
"Wonderful," Rose replied still smiling. "This should be quite educational."
The meeting broke up. Rose went directly to her desk to telephone the secretarial pool.
"Educational for whom?" John Neilson said to Mr. Darrow with a shake of his head after the others had filed out of his office.
"She couldn't be more impudent if she tried," Mr. Darrow replied before he exited the office to return to his desk.