Author's note: This chapter didn't turn out like I was expecting, and I'm not overly happy with it. Hopefully it doesn't seem too out of place.I look forward to any feedback you can give.
Once again I ask that you grant me some leeway with the introduction of staff members...Enjoy :)
10
She's waiting nervously in Mrs Hughes' parlour; she's not sure how long she's been there but she's removed her coat twice because of the heat, and put it back on just as often for fear of appearing presumptuous. Finally, after her third or fourth tour of the small room, the door opens and she's greeted by a "Hello again, my dear, sorry for keeping you waiting; I'm afraid it's all hands on deck when there's a hunt on". The woman offers a kind smile that takes the edge off her severe demeanour, and gestures to a chair that the young girl gratefully eases herself in to. She can't bring herself to relax, or breathe properly, until Mrs Hughes has stated, for the third time, that she is officially an employee of the house and will be expected to take up her duties the following morning.
For the next week and a half she finds herself trailing after two other maids, ignoring the obvious advances of the first footman and jumping every time Mr Carson's booming voice catches her unawares. It's a huge house with a large staff, but she misses her family and mostly just wants to return home where she doesn't feel so lonely or out of place. She seeks out Mrs Hughes at all hours of the day and night for comfort; she's a kind woman, but even her matronly patience is wearing thin. It's with an exasperated sigh that the Housekeeper leads her back to her bedroom one night telling her to 'pull herself together' and 'everything will look better in the morning'.
Nothing looks better when she wakes up to a cold room and Chloe's surly attitude. She decides, anyway, to follow Mrs Hughes' advice and strikes out on her own, so to speak. She completes all of her duties without seeking approval from the other maids and she doesn't take herself off to Mrs Hughes' parlour on any of her breaks. She still jumps a little when Mr Carson greets her but overall, she's starting to feel a little better about things.
By her third week she's feeling much better about her lot; not happy, exactly, but content at least. She's now acquainted herself with nearly all of the staff, although she couldn't claim friendship with any of them, and she's met most of the Crawley family, although only briefly. It was a relief to discover that His Lordship was not the 'randy tyrant' that Philip had tried to convince her he was, and Lady Grantham was very warm and welcoming, and the Dowager was only half as intimidating as she was made out to be –maybe three quarters.
As for the Crawley children, she's only met the two youngest, as the elder sister had been staying with her Aunt in London almost as long as she's been there. Lady Sybil she finds to be a delight; a pretty little dear with dark hair and twinkling blue eyes that reminds her of her cheeky little cousin, May, and makes her feel less homesick. Lady Edith's much fairer, and quieter, than her little sister, with soft red curls framing a round little face; her brown eyes are more cautious than Lady Sybil's, and her smile is never quite as friendly, but she's a pleasant enough child when she makes her presence known.
All she knows of Lady Mary comes from the staff, and the tales – horror stories - she's heard of the young lady's behaviour makes her the second Crawley she's most nervous to meet – the Dowager takes the top spot even though she's already met her on numerous occasions. Although she'd vowed to take anything further her colleagues said about the family with a pinch of salt, she couldn't ignore Mrs Hughes' less than flattering description of the child; the words 'uppity', 'demanding' and 'spoilt' were repeated a few times. Only Mr Carson can find praise for the youngster but, she's come to realise that, he worships all of the family, whether they deserve it or not. Mrs Patmore also refrains from criticism, but only because she's far too busy making dinner to waste time discussing silly little girls.
It's with mounting dread that she discovers she's to dress the young hellion –Philip's word, not hers – for her homecoming dinner as Chloe steadfastly refuses to do so ("I 'ave no issue with the little ones, Mrs Hughes, but I shan't be a whipping-boy for her any longer!"). And so she finds herself outside of Lady Mary's bedroom, steeling herself to face a little girl. "Get a grip" she scolds herself before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.
Lady Mary is a tall, pale girl of ten with deep brown eyes and dark hair reaching almost to her waist. She looks tiny in her big room – not intimidating at all. She seems distracted whilst she's being dressed and makes no attempt at conversation, just moving about like one in a trance. Only in the midst of having her hair styled does one lonely tear escape down her cheek and it's like a dam has been broken. She tells how she came home to find she's been moved out of the nursery as a surprise but she can't claim to be happy about it at all. She knows she's getting too old to share with her sisters but she didn't think she'd be kicked out so soon, and this room is too big and empty and, besides, Sybil needs her to keep the monsters away. She's talking herself round in circles and getting more miserable by the second and all the startled housemaid can do is place a consoling hand on her shoulder and attempt to reassure her that things won't be as bad as she's imagining.
Once she's finished her work, and Lady Mary's dried her eyes and straightened her shoulders, she asks "Will that be all, m'Lady?" and the young girl gives her a small smile and a whispered, "Yes, thank you". She offers her as warm a smile as she can and turns to leave but she's stopped before she can reach the door with a "Wait, please...You won't mention this to anyone will you? This conversation, I mean?" "No, m'Lady, I won't tell a soul" she replies. The young girl's body visibly relaxes and she gives her a proper smile then, lighting up her whole face and she thinks, she's actually quite beautiful.
She keeps her word to Lady Mary by not telling anyone of the little girl's fears, not even Mrs Hughes. Instead she finds herself always taking her time getting the younger girl ready for bed. She learns a lot of the little Lady's secrets during these times, and she finds Lady Mary is much more generous in her opinion of the staff than they are of her. Most of all, though, she feels she's helping Lady Mary conquer her loneliness in that big, cold room – and she relishes the chance to talk of her own home life and family with someone who genuinely seems interested. She doesn't reveal the content of their conversations to any of the staff, not even Mr Carson, whose opinion of Lady Mary she comes to appreciate the most, nor does she tell anyone when she finds Lady Mary curled up in Lady Sybil's bed on numerous occasions, she only leads the sleepy girl back to her own room before anyone else notices –she won't give them the satisfaction of having more to discuss about the child.
She feels like she's finally found a purpose in the big house; there are plenty of maids who can fold sheets and make the beds, but only she -and Lady Sybil- seems able to produce a genuine smile from Lady Mary. She does think she's being subtle with her attentions though, so it's with pleasant surprise that she learns her efforts haven't gone unnoticed. She's just finished tucking Lady Mary into bed and is turning to leave when a small hand on her arm stops her. "Is everything all right, m'Lady?" she asks. The young girl looks unsure of how to proceed but eventually gets out, "Yes, I, well I guess I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate all you've done for me. You've made everything much easier and, well, I just wanted to say 'thank you'". She's touched, truly, and in a moment of madness, or blind affection she can't tell which, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to the girl's forehead and whispers, "Nonsense, m'Lady, you've no need to be thanking me. I like to think we've helped each other". They smile at one another before she presses another kiss to the child's head and makes sure the blankets are tucked around her. "Goodnight, Lady Mary", she says, as she's leaving the room; before she's fully shut the door she hears a sleepy "Goodnight, Anna" and she smiles to herself and thinks, Yes, I'm sure I can be happy here.
