I stared at the trunk as it sat in the corner of the room, all other
thoughts gone and the cleaning abandoned. All that mattered was this object
that I never knew about, that was my mother's, this link to her that was
unknown. I suddenly kneeled beside it, examining the fasteners. There were
two metal latches that were opened easily. However, there was also a lock,
sealing it tight. Where on earth would I find a key for this seemingly
abandoned, unknown treasure box? Does Madam Scheffield know about this, I
thought. If she did, she'd never give me a key to open it and probably
claim whatever was in it. I couldn't let that happen. Maybe Cook would know
what to do. She was my mother's friend.
I swept up the remains of the dust off the floor and once again inspected for mice. There was none. I pulled a dirty once-white table cloth out of a box of old housewares and placed it over my mother's trunk then pushed it back in the corner, afraid of someone else finding it before I could find a way to open it. Hopefully no one will come up here anytime soon, I thought, as I walked across the room, broom in hand. I looked back on the trunk, still worried at someone discovering it and also excited over what treasures it may hold.
I quickly walked down the steps and rushed across the hall, trying to make way to the kitchen so I could talk to Cook. However, enroute, I nearly crashed into a still drowsy Camille.
"Watch where you are going!" she shrieked, more out of being caught off- guard then anything else. "I don't want the likes of you to touch me," she added sneering at me, as if I were a disease.
"Forgive me," I managed to whisper as I curtseyed quickly, hoping to get away from her fast.
"Forgive you?" she laughed scornfully, "I will never forgive you for your very presence being here." She pointed down the stairs, "Go find something to make you slightly more then useless." And then she returned in the direction of her room
Another wonderful day, I thought bitterly, as I hurriedly made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Not wanting to mention anything in front of the scullery maids for fear of them relaying it to madam, I waited in a corner until the kitchen was emptied.
"Cook?" I then replied, as she concentrated on delicately laying out pieces of cheese in a design on a plate. She jumped, having been immersed in concentration.
"Child," she managed to say in-between breaths, "You scared me half to death." Then she added, trying to justify her fright, "Aren't you supposed to be looking for mice?"
"The only thing in the attic is some dust and cobwebs," I said, genuinely laughing, "Madam Scheffield must be mistaken."
"Hmmm." she mumbled, now back to her work, "well, that is nice dear."
"I did find a trunk of my mothers."
She turned back to me. "Are you sure its hers? Maybe it's one of the mistress's relatives."
"It said 'Cendrillion' on it, so it belonged to my mother."
She then laughed at me, "Dear, your mother was 'Cinderella' not 'Cendrillion.' Honestly Norie, you can't function with so little sleep." She then patted my head like I was a puppy and then once again returned to making her cheese design.
"She was Lady Cendrillion before working for the Scheffields. It was only after the noble name no longer fit that she took on Cinderella. Just as I am called Nora and not Eleanor. That is her trunk in the attic and I have a right to whatever is in it." I never had a real possession before and the thought excited me. "However," I added, "it's locked with no sign of a key anywhere."
"Norie," Cook replied sadly, still facing her platter, "The mistress will not allow you to have whatever is in there. She'll claim that as your guardian she is in fact the one with the rights to it. Just forget about it dear, okay?"
I nodded and left the room, but I couldn't forget. I would find a way to open it-it was my last connection to my mother I had. I wasn't going to lose it for any reason. Just how and when though were going to complicate things. I would have to wait for a day when the Scheffield's went for a walk in the park or go to town, and then manage to get all my chores down and find a way to open it. It wasn't going to be easy. Until then, I had things to do.
It was already passed noon and Madam Scheffield still hadn't risen though there were many cameos of Camille, either whining to Cook or yelling at me. I am sure I met my quota of getting damned to hell for the day and it wasn't even over yet.
"Should I wake her up?" I asked Cook, "She won't be thrilled to know she is sleeping the day away."
"I am sure she isn't going to mind. Just let her sleeps and take this to Camille." And then Cook handed me a platter of bread and cheese, laid out in a design of the sun. I liked it better when the Scheffield's ate at the table; then all I had to do was clear it off later and be productive somewhere out of the way. Unless on the rare occasion I was invited to eat with them, but that hasn't happened since Yuletide.
Sighing, I took the plate and walked up the staircase again and knocked on Camille's door.
"Who is it?" she said sharply, opening the door, still in her night shift and her hair a mess. The dark rings under her eyes also proved that she still hadn't recovered from the night before. It was almost delightful to see her a mess. Seeing me, she narrowed her eyes, and stared down at me, like a cat about to pounce its prey. "What on earth do you want?"
"Its lunch time," I replied softy, my voice shaking, looking down on the plate, "Cook asked me to deliver it to your room."
"Tell Cook," she sneered, "That I am disappointed with her service. She should have picked a better messenger. Maybe one who wont poison my food" With that she grabbed the plate from my hand and slammed the door before I could curtsy. Well, whatever. I hope you choke on it, I thought angrily, as I stalked away, though I took it back and felt horrible by the time I reached the stairs down.
I swept up the remains of the dust off the floor and once again inspected for mice. There was none. I pulled a dirty once-white table cloth out of a box of old housewares and placed it over my mother's trunk then pushed it back in the corner, afraid of someone else finding it before I could find a way to open it. Hopefully no one will come up here anytime soon, I thought, as I walked across the room, broom in hand. I looked back on the trunk, still worried at someone discovering it and also excited over what treasures it may hold.
I quickly walked down the steps and rushed across the hall, trying to make way to the kitchen so I could talk to Cook. However, enroute, I nearly crashed into a still drowsy Camille.
"Watch where you are going!" she shrieked, more out of being caught off- guard then anything else. "I don't want the likes of you to touch me," she added sneering at me, as if I were a disease.
"Forgive me," I managed to whisper as I curtseyed quickly, hoping to get away from her fast.
"Forgive you?" she laughed scornfully, "I will never forgive you for your very presence being here." She pointed down the stairs, "Go find something to make you slightly more then useless." And then she returned in the direction of her room
Another wonderful day, I thought bitterly, as I hurriedly made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Not wanting to mention anything in front of the scullery maids for fear of them relaying it to madam, I waited in a corner until the kitchen was emptied.
"Cook?" I then replied, as she concentrated on delicately laying out pieces of cheese in a design on a plate. She jumped, having been immersed in concentration.
"Child," she managed to say in-between breaths, "You scared me half to death." Then she added, trying to justify her fright, "Aren't you supposed to be looking for mice?"
"The only thing in the attic is some dust and cobwebs," I said, genuinely laughing, "Madam Scheffield must be mistaken."
"Hmmm." she mumbled, now back to her work, "well, that is nice dear."
"I did find a trunk of my mothers."
She turned back to me. "Are you sure its hers? Maybe it's one of the mistress's relatives."
"It said 'Cendrillion' on it, so it belonged to my mother."
She then laughed at me, "Dear, your mother was 'Cinderella' not 'Cendrillion.' Honestly Norie, you can't function with so little sleep." She then patted my head like I was a puppy and then once again returned to making her cheese design.
"She was Lady Cendrillion before working for the Scheffields. It was only after the noble name no longer fit that she took on Cinderella. Just as I am called Nora and not Eleanor. That is her trunk in the attic and I have a right to whatever is in it." I never had a real possession before and the thought excited me. "However," I added, "it's locked with no sign of a key anywhere."
"Norie," Cook replied sadly, still facing her platter, "The mistress will not allow you to have whatever is in there. She'll claim that as your guardian she is in fact the one with the rights to it. Just forget about it dear, okay?"
I nodded and left the room, but I couldn't forget. I would find a way to open it-it was my last connection to my mother I had. I wasn't going to lose it for any reason. Just how and when though were going to complicate things. I would have to wait for a day when the Scheffield's went for a walk in the park or go to town, and then manage to get all my chores down and find a way to open it. It wasn't going to be easy. Until then, I had things to do.
It was already passed noon and Madam Scheffield still hadn't risen though there were many cameos of Camille, either whining to Cook or yelling at me. I am sure I met my quota of getting damned to hell for the day and it wasn't even over yet.
"Should I wake her up?" I asked Cook, "She won't be thrilled to know she is sleeping the day away."
"I am sure she isn't going to mind. Just let her sleeps and take this to Camille." And then Cook handed me a platter of bread and cheese, laid out in a design of the sun. I liked it better when the Scheffield's ate at the table; then all I had to do was clear it off later and be productive somewhere out of the way. Unless on the rare occasion I was invited to eat with them, but that hasn't happened since Yuletide.
Sighing, I took the plate and walked up the staircase again and knocked on Camille's door.
"Who is it?" she said sharply, opening the door, still in her night shift and her hair a mess. The dark rings under her eyes also proved that she still hadn't recovered from the night before. It was almost delightful to see her a mess. Seeing me, she narrowed her eyes, and stared down at me, like a cat about to pounce its prey. "What on earth do you want?"
"Its lunch time," I replied softy, my voice shaking, looking down on the plate, "Cook asked me to deliver it to your room."
"Tell Cook," she sneered, "That I am disappointed with her service. She should have picked a better messenger. Maybe one who wont poison my food" With that she grabbed the plate from my hand and slammed the door before I could curtsy. Well, whatever. I hope you choke on it, I thought angrily, as I stalked away, though I took it back and felt horrible by the time I reached the stairs down.