It was a pleasant afternoon, one of the few ones of the summer and I intended to enjoy it the best I could. The mistresses of the house left for a jaunt in the park, giving me the whole house to myself for a brief moment. Though I had to spend that time scrubbing, mending and otherwise being busy, it was nice not having glares over my shoulder or my name constantly being yelled out with more orders. So, I worked steadily, humming cheerfully, as the summer winded blew through opened windows, making the room for once seem tranquil.
I lifted the pail and filmy cleaning rag off the main hall's floor and gazed at my work. Each pale tile shown brightly and even glittered under the candle chandelier. I tugged the newly cleaned Persian rug to its place in front of the grand entryway, and replaced the polished silver cups and trinkets back in their rightful display cases. Sighing happily, I had finished all the tasks I had been given and decided to treat myself to a rare, but much needed break. Walking outside, I poured the filthy cleaning water onto the grass and placed my cleaning supplies on a hanger just inside the aged barn where horses once stayed. Then I walked to the very far and mostly hidden from sight end of the manor and into an apartment that once housed a gardener.
I took off my soiled work apron and placed it on a hook on the door--I would clean it later. Now was some 'me' time. I stretched out on the dull flannel blanket that covered my rickety bed and stared at the ceiling. The warm sunlight covered my face making me feel drowsy. Relaxing more, I let my mind drift, until I fell into the first peaceful sleep I had in so long.
"Mother!" I heard someone yell shrilly in my sleep and I woke with a start, "Mother! She is asleep in here!" Camille, one of the mistress's daughters stood in my doorway and spitefully commented looking down on me still lying on my bed, "Mother will be displeased you were napping when there was work still to be done." Raising her chin slightly she haughtily added, "We should not have to house a poor orphan who is useless. We can throw you on the streets you know." Then she turned and left.
And I did know. That is why I never spoke to my mistresses with disrespect or dismissed an order given by her or her daughters. She was all that was saving me from destitution. But knowing that I finished all she asked of me for the day, I did not dwell so much on fearing her. It would be unfair to reprimand me. I rose from my bed and sat up, shaking the drowsy feelings away. Smoothing out the wrinkles on my grey woolen dress, I got up from the bed and retied the green ribbon hold back my hair.
Camille was standing next to her mother as I entered the side entrance of the manor, both had perfect posture, and a snobbish countenance. They looked very much alike, trim with a cream complexion and dazzling auburn hair, though the mother's was shot with grey. They were the embodiment of prestige and wealth. I am sure they slightly wrinkled their noses as I walked up to them and gave a slight curtsey. I believe they thought even being in their presence was too good for me.
"Girl," my mistress sharply declared, for she never spoken my name, "I must wonder why you think you have the right to neglect your duties while we are gone. Do you really think we wouldn't notice?"
Staring confused, I slowly and quietly replied, "Madam Scheffield, I assure you I completed all the tasks you gave me."
Camille stepped forward before her mother could replied, "And what pray tell, is the assurance of a--," her nose wrinkled more as she spat out "servant?" Then she turned to her mother, "This floor cannot be considered clean, Mama! Look at it" and with a perfectly shaped nail, pointed to invisible dirt spots. Madame Scheffield must have seen these unnoticeable spots as well, for she glared back at me. "You," she angrily pointed at me, "will finish this floor and then return to your room. I do not want to see your face for the rest of the day! Consider this a warning--if this occurs again you will be out on the streets! You miserable rebel..."
Defeated and humiliated, I retrieved my pail and filled it with water and soap. Taking it and my wash rag, I walked back into the manor house and placed it on the floor to moved the Persian rug out of the way. Before I could get back to cleaning, Camille walked in. "You should not leave your things unattended--someone might trip on them." With that she kicked over my pail and I gasped as it flowed all across the great expanse of the hall. She chuckled and replied, "Clumsy me." She then left me to mop up the mess.
It took me the rest of the evening to sop up the water Camille spilt on the floor and clean the tiles to Madam Scheffield's expectations. Some how in it all, I was also conveniently not invited of dinner and sent back to my room hungry. It wasn't the first time, so it wasn't a nasty shock, just frustrating and very unfair. At that I could hear my mother's voice comment, "And since when was life ever fair?" I couldn't help but smile at her memory. Even now, 7 years after her death, I could still feel parts of her around me. Maybe that is what gave me the courage to go on.
I sat on my bed until the lights went out of the manor house, wishing my mother was still with me. She died a long time ago, but the pain was ever present. On days like this, she'd hold me in her arms and quietly speak of a day when everything would be okay. But I could never see a day where everything would work out. I always knew this way of life, and just assumed I would grow old here, like the mistress's kindly cook, who looked older then life itself. Joking aside, I loved Cook. She was one of the only people who didn't sneer when they saw me near. Everyone else just comment "Dirty rebel spawn" and turn their noses at me. She just would hand me a leftover apple tart when no one was looking and to keep my chin up. She reminded me so much of my mother some days. What would I do when I lost her too?
Feeling sad again, I looked out the slit window in the rook of the room and gazed at the sky. Was my mother among the stars in the heavens? Did she look down on me? Why did she have to leave me here? Then I grew angry, and thought 'And why did my father do this to us?! Its his fault I am here!' Bitterness overwhelmed me and angry tears fell from my eyes. I would never forgive him, never ever, for this. Let him rot in rebel's hell for all I cared. Still crying I turned to my bed and laid on the blanket. My temper was still too hot to sleep though.