The next few days passed without much happening. The stacks of papers were slowly disappearing, and in their place were neat piles of organized documents which I knew would please Ramsley when he returned. On a particularly nice day, I decided I would bring my work outside. I set up my station and was just about to begin the days work when I saw Elizabeth hanging the laundry to dry. Suddenly a gust of wind swept up, and some of the sheets and clothes flew off the line. I rose quickly to gather up some of the items. I returned a handful of clothes to Elizabeth, who looked at me surprised.
"Why do you gawk at me?" I asked.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare; it's just I have never known a person to run after another person's work, especially not the head of the household," she said, taking the items.
"It is nothing really. Perhaps it was a good distraction from my work, and God decided he might grant me a brief reprieve," I said but then quickly added, "But I don't really need a break; after all, it is just paperwork. I shouldn't complain that all I have to do is decide if the numbers add up. You must think me spoiled."
"Why would I think that?" she asked while pinning clothes to the line.
"Well, I suppose my work is easy in comparison to what you do. All-day you are up and about, doing actual labor, and I have the audacity to imply my work is so difficult I need a break," I explained.
"Just because your work is done sitting doesn't make it any less important or difficult," she said kindly.
Not knowing what to say, I began pinning up clothes as well. I was apparently doing a poor job of it because she was quietly removing my work and repinning.
"Please, show me how to do this correctly; I don't want to make more work for you just because I am a spoiled man who has never needed to do this," I said.
"Oh no, you were doing a fine job," she said.
"No, I wasn't. I wish to help you, and I can see that I am doubling your work," I implored.
"Very well, hanging clothes isn't terribly difficult. You just need to make sure it is secure, and you aren't making more wrinkles," and with that, she showed me.
I corrected my technique, and before long, the basket was empty. "Well, with this heat and slight breeze, these should be dry in no time," she said, pleased.
"Is there any other work that you need to attend to that I might be of some assistance?" I asked.
"I need to polish some silverware, but you don't need to help with that. You may sit with me if you are so inclined," she said. "I don't imagine there have been many parties here so that the silverware will need a good clean."
"I don't see why they need to be cleaned now. I'm not aware of any functions being held," I said before catching Elizabeth's eyes widening. "Unless something is happening that I have not been made aware of."
"Apparently, there will be a dinner party announcing your return in a few weeks, or so Ramsley told the staff a few days before you arrived. I don't think you were meant to know," she said sheepishly.
"I suppose I will just have to pretend. I was apart of a small acting troupe in my younger years. Father didn't approve, but it was good fun," I said, reminiscing.
I followed her into the kitchen, where all the silverware was laid out. I could tell the other kitchen staff thought it odd I was down here.
"Master Gracey, dinner is not for many hours. Can I fix you something to eat?" the maid asked.
"No, no. I was just speaking with Elizabeth and thought I would keep her company whilst she attends to all this," I said, gesturing to the baskets of silverware. "Please feel free to rest until supper," I said this mostly so that Elizabeth and I could talk privately.
"If it pleases you," she said before disappearing. I detected an air of disapproval, but it wasn't as if she would object.
We sat down, and she grabbed a rag and some polish and began to work the tarnish off a serving spoon.
"I imagine people will be gossiping about this," Elizabeth said, not looking at me.
"What do you mean?"
"Servent and her employer, in the same room as if she were his equal," Elizabeth said.
"Oh, I see."
Neither of us spoke for a while, and it wasn't until she put down a giant serving platter and looked at me.
"Why are you being so kind? I have worked many places, and you are the first to call me by my first name," she said.
"I suppose I believe everyone deserves kindness," I said earnestly.
There was an awkward silence. "If this makes you uncomfortable, I can leave. I wouldn't want to be an imposition."
"No, it's fine. It is just different. I suppose I rather you sit here with me and be a gentleman than yelling at me," she said with a slight smile.
"Have all of your employers been cruel?"
She gave me a weird look, "I'm not sure cruel is the right word, but none have been kind to me. Of course, I wouldn't expect anyone to be tripping over themselves to be nice to me."
"Why do you say, 'of course'?" I said dumbly.
"I'm mixed..." she said as if it was perfectly obvious.
"Oh... because you're mixed race, people are cruel to you?" I said, a bit shocked. How could anyone be cruel to a servant who did their job well? Who could be cruel to their fellow human?
"I'm still Black, in the eyes of the law, so I guess people see fit to be cruel to me," she said with a twinge of anger. "How do you not know about this? Folks of color are treated horribly every day, and no one seems to care. Have you been privileged not to see this?"
"I will not be spoken to this way!" I said defensively and standing up and slamming my hand on the table.
There was a thick silence that descended in the room. I wanted to be angry that she had spoken to be this way, but in truth, she was right. I was blind to those I did not associate with, and being away had not helped. I was naive.
"Forgive me, I should not have spoken to you that way," she said, looking away.
"No, you're right. I have been ignorant, whether willfully at times or not. I was foolish to ask something and not to accept your anger. It is I who should apologize for speaking as I did," I said, sitting down. "I want you to feel comfortable talking to me and I will endeavor to listen and not yell when the topic reveals uncomfortable truths."
She simply nodded. It seemed she had this conversation before, and had not gone well. I decided to switch topics. Once again, I made conversations awkward.
"Have you picked something to read?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, thank you," she said. "I picked out Grimm's Fairytales. I know they are for children, but sometimes one likes to imagine they are a beautiful princess."
"But you are beautiful!" I blurted out. Before I could cover for my slip, she said, "You think I am pretty?"
"Of course!" I said, aghast that she did not think so herself.
"No one has ever said that to me before," she mused.
"Forgive how I said it, but it is none the less true. The sun comes up because it misses your beauty," I opined.
"Well, I wish the sun would come up later. I would like another hour to sleep," she laughed, brushing off my comment.
"You don't believe me, do you?" I said. "Let me prove to you that your image deserves to be in every museum; let me paint you!"
"Paint me? I am not a great beauty. You shouldn't waste canvas on me, sir, I must insist not," she said.
"Please, I have a certain canvas in mind that must be covered anyway," I said, "It suffered some water damage, and besides, it would be my honor as well as my privilege."
"Well, we would have to do it in the evenings because I have work I need to attend to," she considered, "but please don't inconvenience yourself on account of me."
"This evening then, meet me in the library," I said, rising. It wasn't that I wanted to leave her but rather that I had to look for something.
I made my way to the attic where the old trunks lay. I found what I was searching for quickly. In an old trunk were many of my mother's old dresses. She always thought one of her daughters would someday be able to makeover one of her old dresses, but alas, she only had a son. But she still kept them and donated them to those in need. I found a lovely gown, the color of goldenrod. It would look striking against her dark hair. I also found some earrings that would do. I ordered that these clothes be cleaned up and delivered to Elizabeth's room and that she wasn't to see a thing.
That evening I was waiting in the library. My father's painting had been brought in and set up with an easel. I had already covered it over. The painting was in pristine condition, but Elizabeth didn't need to know that.
Elizabeth glided into the room then, and I looked up and let a small gasp escape me. She was radiant, her hair was swept up, and the dress looked perfect on her. It was as if an angel entered.
"I trust the dress is suitable? I hope you didn't think it too forward of me," I said, not knowing quite what to say.
"This dress is too nice for me to wear. A queen should be wearing this, not a servant," she said.
"But a queen is wearing this dress. I couldn't imagine anyone else wearing this gown," I said.
She blushed then. Before this could become more awkward, I led her to a little ottoman. She sat and then asked, "How should I pose?"
"Any way that is comfortable," I said, preparing my paint on my pallet.
"I feel like it would look strange if my arms were just hanging there," she said. She moved around a bit, trying to find a suitable place for her arms when she was fiddling with her necklace, and I held up a hand.
"Stop! Right there!" I said. Her hands were crossed at her heart.
And I painted her. I knew it wouldn't be done in one night, but I tried to work as fast as possible.
"What does a gentleman like you know about painting?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I know you learned of art at university, but I thought only ladies painted or those who make their living as an artist," she said.
"My mother never had a daughter, and she loved to paint herself, being ill a lot of the time, so I spent a lot of time with her, and I learned to paint that way. I never was formally trained or went to art school; father would never allow that. But throughout university, I dabbled with painting. It has always been a nice past time that had helped me remember my childhood when I was far away," I considered.
"That sounds lovely," she murmured.
And we were silent for the next hour. No words needed to pass for us both to know that this somehow felt right.
When I was done for the night, I released her, saying, "I apologize for keeping you up. I know you have your duties to attend to."
"I quite enjoyed this time; gave me time to ponder and think on things," she mused.
"What were you thinking about?" I asked.
"I should be preparing for bed," she said, "What should I do with this gown? Would you like it returned to you tomorrow?"
I noticed how she didn't answer my question, but it really wasn't my business, so I responded, "Keep it. I haven't even really started on the gown, and besides, think of it as a gift."
"No, I couldn't!"
"Well, keep it for now, at least, until the painting is done," I said.
"But when you're done, this lovely gown will be back in your quarters again," she reaffirmed.
I smiled. "Fine. Can we continue tomorrow night then?"
She nodded and bid her leave for bed. I remained in the library and continued to work a bit on the portrait. I knew Ramsley would not be pleased with what I was doing but, I am the master of this estate, and so I could do as I please.
I also thought about Elizabeth. I quite liked how honest and plain-spoken she was. I hesitate to admit to even myself if I felt something more for her. On one hand, she felt like someone I could spend my life talking to but, on the other hand, there was society's reaction.
While I saw her as Elizabeth Henshaw, what would society think? Plenty of people I knew through my father had mistresses or affairs with their servants, but I did not want to be one of those people. The whole affair did not sit right with me. I did not want to marry someone society thought was acceptable only to cheat and hurt two people in the end. I wanted to court Elizabeth, not as my servant but as just Elizabeth. I wanted anything we became to not be gossiped about or looked down upon.
I decided, at that moment, I would comport like the gentleman my mother wanted, and if I did not act strangely about this, then no one else would need to twitter. I would make my intentions obvious and civil, and should she decide otherwise; I would back off immediately without objection if she said no or was in any way uncomfortable.
That night while I was lying awake I considered this new future. Elizabeth's eyes were burned into my mind and I was hoping I could look into her brown eyes more in the future. I hoped we could have a future together.