Chapter Five
Violet awoke suddenly to a sharp knocking.
"Up," said the voice. "Get up. We've got things to do."
Violet groaned and lifted her head, her neck stiff. In her arms there was a child, which puzzled her at first, then she remembered with dismay that she was at Count Olaf's home. There was the sound of a lock being slid and the door creaked open, revealing the monster himself.
"Servants, up. There's a lot to be done," he insisted, an edge of annoyance in his tone.
"Give us a minute," she said, trying to twist her back in order to pop it. Had she not been so exhausted, Violet suspected she would have slept horribly on the lumpy mattress. Next to her, Alec was twisting in the same fashion she was and rolling his shoulders.
"Hurry up," Count Olaf demanded, then slammed the door shut.
"Good morning," Alec said quietly, offering her a smile as he untangled himself from her arms.
"Good morning," she replied with a tired grin, then the two of them stood and stretched before exiting into the kitchen. No matter how tired she was, forgetting the stench of the kitchen was enough shock to wake her right up. What a horrendous thing to wake up to. When it came time for chores, Violet decided then that she would focus on the kitchen before anything else.
"My seamstress will be here any minute," Count Olaf said in a hurry, slumping two bowls down on the counter. Violet didn't even have to look to know it was cold porridge. She'd spent enough time with him to know his culinary skills were limited. Just the thought of that lumpy, tasteless mess had her missing Sunny. "Then we're going to meet with Mr. Poe. Well, you are, anyway. And then we have to pick up supplies for the party tonight. Butler, I expect the living and rumpus rooms to be spotless."
With that, Count Olaf turned on his heel and disappeared into the house while Violet and Alec were left standing there, trying to piece together what he'd said in their tired minds. Mr. Poe? Was he wanting her cut of their inheritance already? Would he be waiting outside in the car while she went into the bank? That would give her ample opportunity to tell Mr. Poe everything and have him alert the authorities. Suddenly Violet was itching for the seamstress to get there so she could be measured and they could leave for the bank. The porridge didn't seem half so bad when it was eaten with a positive possibility in the near future.
Alec, however, was flicking his food around the bowl with a glum expression. Violet finished in a hurry, setting her bowl on the counter. It seemed silly to clean it while she was surrounded in the mold and grime of much dirtier plates. Right as the bowl left her hand, there was a sharp knocking from somewhere else in the house.
"Front door," Alec mumbled, trying to make himself swallow another bite. Violet nodded in reply and stood still, unsure if she was supposed to go meet the seamstress or wait to be called. From the living room she heard heavy footsteps lumbering across the house, then someone fiddling with keys.
"Boss," cried a deep voice, "Lucia is here!"
Violet wracked her brain, but didn't recall ever having met a Lucia in Count Olaf's hire. Of course, she hadn't met Viktor, either, and wondered how many new faces she would have to remember. Down the staircase came Count Olaf's even steps and she heard him exclaim, "Lucia, my dear, how wonderful to see you again!" Violet thought this was the nicest she'd ever heard him be toward another person, but he ruined the moment by yelling, "Maid! To the front door immediately!"
With a grimace, Violet threw Alec a look and stepped through the rumpus and living rooms, finally entering the small hallway which served at the entrance to the house. Viktor was standing there, eying her in a way that made her feel very uncomfortable. Count Olaf was to her right and put a hand on her shoulder, as he had done the evening before. Lucia stood in front of them, a small woman with a magnificent bunch of red hair which stuck up in curly tufts around her wrinkled face. She seemed very fashion-forward, sporting not only a sleek dress which Violet thought was far too young for her, but she also had oversized purple glasses which amplified her eyes.
"I also need you to take measurements on my new maid. Veronica recently lost everything in a fire," he said, not bothering to mention that he'd been the one to start it. "I've taken her in out of the goodness of my heart."
Violet smiled through her grimace toward the woman. The desires of Count Olaf's heart had more to do with vast fortunes than goodness.
"Oh, my," Lucia exclaimed dramatically. She came forward and clasped at Violet's sleeve, eying the singe marks which riddled it. "This simply won't do. You reek of smoke and ash. Olaf, you monster," she said, though there was endearment in her tone, "You've let her stay in this horrid rag?"
Count Olaf merely shrugged. "My clothes are too long and Viktor's too big," he said, as if he'd even tried to get Violet a change of clothes.
Lucia gave a dramatic sigh and shook her head. "Men!" she exclaimed, then offered Violet a wink. "I think I may have a few things in my trunk that would fit you, lovely girl." Lucia paused and looked over her shoulder at the men. "Well?" she said in irritation. "Go and grab my trunk from the van! It's not often I actually get a pretty one to play dress up with!"
Viktor immediately did as he was told, but Violet noticed a look of pure fury on Count Olaf's face. The moment passed without incident, however, and Violet was being whisked into the rumpus room while the men made their way to the van parked outside.
"Ugh," Lucia exclaimed once her eyes met the dismal state of the room. "I'm glad he hired you to help. Olaf has always been one of those mad-genius types, dear, and mad-genius types, as smart as they are, never seem to grasp the importance of a broom."
Violet looked around and thought a broom would do little help for the room. Perhaps several bottles of bleach, a bulldozer, and a blowtorch. But a broom? No.
"I certainly have my work cut out for me," Violet said, giving the woman a grimace. Lucia flashed her a dazzling smile and pulled a tape measure from her leather purse. The woman hummed as she worked, some show tune Violet wasn't familiar with, and soon pulled away with a determined expression.
"I'm quite sure I have a dress or two which will be close enough to work until I can make a few to your proper measurements," she said. Violet nodded, then looked toward the living room, where there were sounds of a ruckus. The two women watched while the men struggled to get the gargantuan trunk in through the door. Viktor's face was quite red and Olaf's mouth was twisted into a snarl.
"It gets heavier every time you visit," the latter said, eyes shining in ill-disguised anger. "It's not as if any of us need an entire wardrobe." At that, the men dropped the trunk with a deafening thud.
That was untrue, though. Violet needed an entire wardrobe. She thought sadly that all she had were the clothes she was wearing. Then she thought of everything else she was missing and self-consciously ran her tongue over the front of her teeth. As much as she hated the idea of asking Count Olaf for anything, surely he would understand her need for a toothbrush.
"Shoo!" Lucia said, not bothering to reply to his comment. "Out! Ladies first, then I'll get to fitting your new trousers."
Viktor, again, immediately left the room at her order, but Count Olaf stood tall and crossed his arms in defiance. "If I'm footing the bill," he said, "I need to make sure her clothing is appropriate for working in my home."
Violet knew, of course, that this boiled down to his supposedly jealous girlfriend that she'd not yet had the pleasure of meeting. It wasn't something she protested, anyway. Modest clothes had always made her feel more comfortable.
Lucia, though, looked to Violet with a questioning gaze, to which she nodded in reply. "He's right," Violet said, earning her a satisfied smirk from Count Olaf's direction.
The woman merely shrugged, then bent and popped open the locks on her trunk, which sprung open without being held shut. Things started to fly to left and right – bits of fabric, scissors, spools of thread – as she shifted through to find whatever it was she was after. "Ah!" she finally said, pulling a wad of fabric out, "Here we are. Olaf, darling, turn around while I change her. This would work marvelously for a work uniform, you'll simply love it."
Even though the seamstress vaguely reminded Violet of that horrid Esmé Squalor, she couldn't help but like the woman. She commanded Count Olaf with such an ease that it took Violet by great surprise. Olaf listened without a dark look for once, spinning and standing with his back to the two. In an instant, Lucia had a small stool pulled from the depths of her trunk and prodded Violet to stand on it. With hands as speedy as the peskiest mosquito, the seamstress had Violet's soiled dress on the floor, leaving her standing in the middle of the room in only her slip. It wasn't until then that Violet grew quite uncomfortable, not realizing at first that she'd be so indecent near a man, let alone Count Olaf. Her captor, however, behaved and never peeked, much to her relief.
"Here," Lucia commanded, shoving the bundle of fabric into Violet's arms. "You work on the top while I find the bottom piece," she added before diving into her trunk once more.
Violet could tell, just by holding it in her hands, that there wasn't enough fabric to be something decent. Whatever the bottom piece to the outfit was, she hoped it covered more. Sliding it over her head, she found her deductions correct. It had three-quarter sleeves, which she liked. That was about all she liked. The neckline was far too low, exposing the top curves of her bust. The length in the back was long, brushing her ankles, but the front fell several inches above her knees. When Lucia turned around, Violet saw with horror that she had a short petticoat.
"Step in," the seamstress ordered and Violet did so, not finding the bravery to protest. Once the petticoat was tucked away under the skirt, she looked very much like a maroon Little Bo Peep.
Violet tossed the possible rejections around in her mind, trying to think of the most polite, and finally said, "I'm not quite sure this is appropriate for work."
"The apron!" Lucia cried, diving back into her trunk. Violet slumped a little in dismay. Unless the apron brushed her ankles, it wouldn't do much help. The apron was near the bottom of the trunk and took several minutes to locate, but when she finally pulled it free, she had it tied around Violet's waist in the blink of an eye. It was a lacy thing, lovely on its own, but not to Violet's taste and certainly not long enough. "Olaf!" said Lucia in that dramatic fashion of hers. "Turn and see your new maid!"
Olaf had not been prepared for what he saw. The sight of Violet's pleading eyes and otherwise awkward stance was nearly too much to handle and he raised a hand to his face as if in thought, though he was trying to cover the twitching of his mouth. "It's lovely as always, Lucia," he began, locking on to Violet's near-pained gaze. "However, perhaps something a shade more modest."
Lucia spun toward Violet and the girl looked down at the seamstress, transforming her face from one of pleading to one of disappointment. "It is quite lovely," Violet said, "However, it's his home, his rules."
Olaf couldn't help but smirk at her obvious relief. While her eyes were turned toward Lucia, he took a moment to admire the eldest Baudelaire. It seemed she hid shapely legs under those long skirts of hers and, moving his sight upward, he spied upon the swell of her bust.
It wasn't the first time he'd thought of such things. Violet had created many dark thoughts in his mind over the years, beginning when she first came into his guardianship. When his marriage scheme was ruined, he was just as disappointed over missing their wedding night as he was losing the fortune. And later, when he'd become aware of what she and that Quagmire boy were doing on his stage, a terrible jealousy had lodged itself in his throat for several days. Many sleepless nights were spent imagining what she looked like under all those layers and now that she was back under his roof, he would certainly not be letting her go until he'd had his turn.
Before Violet's dark eyes turned back to his, Olaf spied a ring dangling near her cleavage from a simple brown cord. He tucked it away in his brain to investigate later and was looking as innocent as ever by the time Violet met his gaze. Though she didn't say a word, her eyes expressed thanks and he nodded in reply. It wasn't as if he would have allowed such an indecent outfit with Ursa coming back soon. He could only imagine the squawking he'd have to put up with if he introduced his new maid dressed in something like that.
"I might have something else," the seamstress said, motioning for Count Olaf to turn back around. This time he did so, but waited for the rustling of fabrics to peek over his shoulder. Violet was struggling to remove the dress from over her head, exposing her satin slip to the room. Lucia was attempting to help her, having already removed the ghastly petticoat, and Olaf took the opportunity to stare at the way the slip flirted with Violet's thighs before turning back around.
Violet was relieved to have the monstrosity off of her and wondered what else was in store for her within Lucia's never-ending trunk.
"Here," Lucia said, pulling a thick bundle from the trunk. "It's rather plain as I hadn't finished, but it'll work in a pinch."
This bundle looked far more modest. It was a lovely shade of green, made from fine cotton, and the bodice was corseted in a display of immense skill.
"It's lovely," Violet said, running her fingers over the fabric. Lucia helped her changed and pulled the corset a bit too taut for Violet's taste, but she didn't protest.
"How is this, Olaf?" Lucia asked and the man spun, looking Violet over.
"That will do nicely," he said, glad it was modest enough for Violet, but still showed off her figure more than the rag he'd found her in.
"I've another in a different shade," Lucia said, ruffling around in her trunk and pulling forth the same dress in a butter yellow color. "These will have to do until next week."
Violet nodded and, to her relief, Count Olaf was finally shooed from the room so Lucia could take proper measurements while the girl stood in her slip. Every now and then, the seamstress would write a note on a pad of paper she pulled from her purse, then she would continue with her measuring. While she worked, they discussed aspects of the dresses she would make and decided three-quarter sleeves would be best for housework, as would the hem falling just above the ankles. When they were done, Violet was helped back into the green dress and sent to help Alec while Count Olaf was fitted for his new trousers.
She found the little butler in the kitchen, just staring at the massive piles of plates that sat staggering around the room.
"Overwhelming, isn't it?" she said kindly, laying a hand on the boy's head. "I've found it best, when faced with a big problem, to work on it in sections."
"It's just so much," Alec said miserably. "I'll never get it done for the party tonight."
Violet didn't have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't have it done by the following week, even if he worked non-stop with no sleep. Instead, she gave him a small smile and made her way to the sink.
"Well, we need the sink to clean the dishes, so we should start here," she said, pulling the filthy dishes from the sink and, finding nowhere else to put them, starting a new pile on the wooden table in the middle of the room. Alec sighed and joined her, together the two clearing the sink in record time, despite trying not to gag at the putrid smell coming from the drain.
"I think there's a dead animal down there," Alec said, pointing to the drain. Violet laid her hand on the back of the chair which he stood, Alec needing extra height to help, and stared at the drain.
"I wouldn't be surprised," she said, eying it warily as if expecting a half-dead raccoon to start crawling from its depths. Violet ducked and carefully opened the cabinet beneath the sink, watching with dismay as a cockroach scuttled in the back corner. There was an ancient looking jug of bleach, a filthy toothbrush, a long forgotten tub of glue, a bottle of liquid starch, and a half-used box of baking soda. Among those things, Violet could see the curved pipe which the sink water drained through and scrunched up her noise at the concentration of foul odor that lingered there. "I think we've got two problems," she said aloud.
Alec hopped down off the chair and stuck his head under the sink with her. It only took a moment before his face scrunched as hers had and he pinched his nose between his fingers. "It's worse down here!" he said, sounding as if he might be ill.
"You see this pipe?" Violet asked, pointing to the curved piece of metal beneath the sink. "This is called the P-trap. See how it curves up?" Her finger traced down the curve, then back up. "Sometimes things get stuck in there, like food. Which is probably the smell. But, this happens a lot and normally you can't tell because it doesn't smell. Because we can – and because the stench is worse down here – I think the seal might have a leak."
"So, what do we do?" the boy asked, which was a very good question. Violet pulled her hair back to the nape of her neck, wishing for a ribbon, and eyed the things beneath the sink.
"Do we have a wrench?" she asked, pulling herself away from the stench under the sink. Alec pursed his lips in thought, then his eyes lit up and he ran from the room without a word. Violet chuckled at his excitement and stood, returning to the rumpus room. Count Olaf was standing on the stool now, adding another foot to his height and making him seem all the more formidable. Lucia was crouched below, pinning the hem of his trousers.
"Why did the butler just run through here causing a ruckus?" Olaf asked, giving Violet a disapproving look.
"There's an issue with the sink. He went to find me a wrench," she explained, eying and grabbing her singed dress where it still lay in the floor. "Lucia, might I borrow a pair of scissors?"
The seamstress paused and looked at Violet over her shoulder. "Over here, lovely girl," she said with a smile, then turned back to her work. Count Olaf, however, was giving her a suspicious look.
"What's wrong with the sink? Why do you need a wrench?" he asked, eyes gleaming with mistrust. At that moment, he looked like he'd rather be looming over her shoulder than being fitted for his clothing.
"I think there's something stuck in the P-trap," she said simply, walking over and grabbing the scissors from where they sat next to his foot on the stool.
"The what-trap?" he asked, voice still full of suspicion.
"The P-trap," she repeated. "It's the curved pipe under the sink. There's a terrible smell, so we think something is stuck in there." Then, as an afterthought she added, "And there's probably a crack in the seal, but that's a separate problem."
Count Olaf eyed her over, then looked down at his ankles in distaste. He'd always been a brilliant liar, but his eyes gave him away. Violet knew he wished Lucia to hurry up so he could see if she and Alec were up to no good.
Violet wished she was up to no good. If she had it her way, she'd steal Alec away and burn the place to the ground. Perhaps she would. But, she would need a plan and something to start the fire with and that was something she would have to think about when she had more free time.
Right then, she had something else to occupy her time. Alec's footsteps came raining down the stairs and he entered a moment later with a triumphant look and a rusty wrench in his grasp. Violet smiled and took the moment to cut two long strips from her soiled dress – one about four inches thick and the other perhaps an inch – then bundled what was left and tucked it under her arm. Afterward, she put the scissors back where she found them and retired to the kitchen, the feeling of Count Olaf's eyes burning into the back of her head.
"What first?" Alec asked, beaming in excitement. This was the first time Violet had ever had a proper assistant and she was glad to have such a happy one.
"Give me the wrench," she said, reaching out to take the tool, "And you try to find measuring cups. If you can't, I need a small cup." Violet ducked under the sink and took out the things in the cabinet, sitting them on the floor next to her. Then she readjusted the wrench to fit the pipe. As an afterthought she added, "Also, a big bowl and something to stir with."
"Aye, aye, captain!" Alec proclaimed, dragging the chair next to the sink over to the cabinets. While he looked, Violet worked on loosening the pipe, which was proving difficult as there was a lot of rust. Once she got it to budge, though, it was smooth sailing. With each twist of the wrench, the terrible odor grew and Violet was beginning to feel quite ill by the time the piece fell loose into her hand.
"Ugh, what is that?" Alec asked, peering over her shoulder with a look of disgust.
Violet…well, Violet wasn't sure. Inside the pipe she could see some shapeless black mass that was emitting the putrid stench. "I'm not sure," she said, resisting the urge to gag. Instead, she gathered what was left of her soiled dress and spread it in an empty space of floor she found. Once she was done, she started tapping the pipe on the cloth and extracting the source of the smell.
Alec watched nearby with a mixture of horror and astonishment. "I think it was meat," he said, nose hidden in the crook of his elbow. Violet wasn't sure what it was, other than sickly. The sour smell turned her stomach and that time she did gag, looking away and tucking her face away as Alec was doing.
"What is that?" said a voice behind them, filled with horror. Violet didn't bother to look up at Count Olaf.
"We think it was meat at one time," she said, resisting the urge to gag a second time. Her reflexes won out and she made a nasty retching noise.
"Get it out of here!" Count Olaf said, disgust thick in his voice. Violet kept her face tilted away as she hurriedly wrapped it in the remains of her dress and grabbed the edges of the fabric, hoisting it toward Count Olaf. "I'm not touching it!" he hissed, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out his key ring.
Violet stood, trying not to think of the nauseating thing she was holding, and waited for him to unlock the back door. As soon as he did, she flung the dress out into the backyard. "Hopefully something will come along and eat it," she said with a shudder.
"Doubtful," Olaf replied, shutting and locking the door back. He turned back to Violet and gave her an impatient stare. "Hurry and finish, I want to get to the bank," he said and she sighed, nodding in reply.
The good thing about getting the mystery meat out of the house is that the kitchen smelled a lot better. Not exactly good, as the stench still hung in the air and they were surrounded by filthy dishes, but it was a manageable odor. Violet picked up the P-trap and looked it over, finding a thin crack along the side. With a grin, she walked over to Alec and pointed to the crack. "Right there, see it?" she asked, pointedly ignoring that Count Olaf was leaning against the cabinets watching their every move.
"You were right!" Alec said with a grin. "How'd you know so much about pipes?"
Violet shrugged, sitting the P-trap on the counter and reaching for the bowl in Alec's hands. Inside the bowl, he'd found a one-eighth cup for measuring and a slotted spoon. "I like to know how things work," she said, before adding, "Alec, down in the floor – hand me the glue, the liquid starch, and the strips of fabric."
Alec, eager to help, grabbed the things in a hurry and nearly tripped in his excitement. Violet giggled and laid a gentle hand on his head before taking the things from his grasp. First she took the thin strip of fabric and tied back her hair. Violet sighed at the feeling, glad to have her head clear for thinking.
With a steady hand, she measured out two of the little cups full of the runny paste and dumped it into the bowl. Then she handed the little cup to Alec. "Your turn," she said with a kind smile. "I need two of those little cups filled with water." Alec grinned from ear to ear and stole the measuring cup from her hand, turning to the sink. "Be careful," she added, "Don't let any spill. There isn't a pipe for it to drain through."
Alec, however, proved a wonderful helper and didn't spill a single drop. With hands just as steady as Violet's, he measured two of the little cups and dumped them into the bowl. Violet thanked him and instructed him to mix the two together while she eyed the crack in the pipe.
"It will need replaced," she said, looking over her shoulder to Count Olaf. He grimaced, shooting her a dark look.
"I buy you new clothing and suddenly you want to tell me how to spend my money," he said with a scowl, eyes gleaming.
Violet turned her back to him, biting back the urge to tell him soon enough he'd have even more money which wasn't his. Instead, she replied as calmly as possible, "A P-trap is inexpensive and necessary. This is just a quick-fix, but it will need replaced sooner rather than later. If you want us to keep your house clean, we'll need a working sink."
She'd only said it because she knew there was no way he could protest. If the sink broke, there was nothing they could do about the dishes. And seeing as the dishes took up such a large chunk of time, without having them to do, she and Alec would have a lot more spare time on their hands, which she knew was not something Count Olaf wanted. "Fine," he said and she was glad her back was turned, so he couldn't see her smile.
"I think it's mixed up good," Alec said, handing the bowl to Violet. For good measure, she mixed it a few more times, but he'd done an excellent job mixing it on his own.
"You're a wonderful mixer," she said warmly, then set the bowl back on the counter and measured two little cups of liquid starch, adding it into the mixture. This time she mixed and Alec, standing on the chair, watched in amazement.
"What's it doing?" he asked excitedly. "It's getting all gooey!"
Count Olaf, his interest piqued, came to loom over her shoulder and watch. Violet repressed a shudder when he laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Looks like you're making a mess," he said with distaste. With each of his words, she felt his warm breath on the side of her neck. The sensation sent chill bumps crawling down her arms.
Violet shook the feeling away and kept mixing, which was growing more difficult as the mixture thickened. "It'll fill the gap," she said under her breath, trying to make sure everything was blended evenly. "When it dries, it'll act as a mild adhesive, but it won't last for more than a few weeks."
The two boys watched as she pulled the flubber-like substance from the bowl and began working it in her hands. Violet picked off a small amount and rolled it into a thin rope, pausing to fit it into the crack. With the rest, she flattened it in her palms and pinched it between her fingers before pulling her hands far apart. The substance stretched, becoming a thin strip, and she wrapped it around the pipe in the area of the crack. Once she was through with that, she did the same with the leftover piece of fabric, securing the goop and tying it tight to keep it in place.
"Let's see how it works," she said, waiting for Count Olaf to pull his hand from her shoulder. When he didn't, she turned and gave him an expectant look. Olaf eyed her for a moment, then removed his hand and took a step back. Violet found it odd, but didn't realize he'd been peeking over her shoulder to get a better look at the ring hanging around her neck and didn't realize she was ready to test her repairs.
Ducking back under the sink, Violet held the pipe in place and used the wrench to tighten. Once she could turn it no more, she gave Alec a thumbs up and he grinned, reaching over and turning on the tap. The three listened to the water run into the sink and down the drain, waiting for the drip of leaking water, but it passed through without a problem.
"We did it!" Alec said, jumping from foot to foot on the chair.
"And now you can continue doing dishes while the two of us run to the bank," Count Olaf droned, giving the boy a hard stare. Alec sobered, his shoulders sagging slightly.
"Don't worry," Violet said with a grin once she stood. "You'll get them done in no time. Just soak them in hot water for a while and work on the rest of the house. When you come back, they'll be a lot easier to clean."
Alec gave her a hopeful look. "Really?" he asked, listening to any advice she had to give with fervor. Violet nodded and washed her hands, throwing her little partner a smile over her shoulder.
"You bet," she said. "Why, you can probably get a few stacks done by tonight if you try."
But, before she could say anymore, Count Olaf's hand found her shoulder once again and was steering her from the room. "Come on," he said once they reached the rumpus room, "I'm growing impatient with you. The bank closes early on Saturdays and we've got a long drive."