12. Cristmas at the Homefront
I got out of the carriage and took in the surroundings. The light snowfall didn't hide the front of the houses in front of me. The neighborhood looked like a smaller copy of one of the villa neighborhoods. The houses were also white and surrounded by gardens, but both were smaller and the entrances were still almost directly on the street.
Houses for the upper middle class. Expensive, but not too much and beneath the dignity of a factory owner. But not a bank manager.
I had almost been able to suppress it until now, but now that was no longer possible.
My father is in there. In a few minutes I would have to face my father.
A man I had no memories of, apart from a few confused feelings and images. And even from the letters, I could only guess what he was like in person.
Would he notice anything?
And even if he didn't, how exactly would this meeting develop?
It could be that...
I shook myself to get rid of these thoughts. No matter how it turned out, I would need all my concentration to get the best result.
"Miss?" The coachman started at her. I apologized and gave him a few coins as a tip.
Apparently too much, because he thanked me with almost exaggerated enthusiasm and began to unload my luggage with great enthusiasm.
I knocked on the door. Then I saw the bell pull and pressed it too.
Someone would have to come now.
Less than half a minute later, the door opened.
A man stood in the doorway. A tall, muscular, black man in an impeccable suit. No hair, but a nose broken in two places and a scar on his chin.
A face like an ex-boxer, or worse, an ex-criminal.
The old Lavinia would certainly have been horrified. I, on the other hand, stood in front of him a little embarrassed, as I had no idea who he was.
My father? That was rather unlikely.
He looked at me with an almost embarrassingly fake smile.
"Miss Lavinia, how good to see you again. Your father is expecting you in the drawing room. Don't worry, I'll take care of your luggage..."
"Thank you." Then I walked slowly into the house and down the hall.
Who was that and why was he acting as if my presence had ruined his day?
But all that immediately faded into the background as the upcoming event came back into my mind.
My (new) father. For the first time. In less than a minute.
As a distraction, I took a look at the interior on the way. Lots of wood, dark, everything new and well polished. The decor was almost clichéd Victorian and there was a lot of superfluous ornamentation.
A dark wooden staircase in the middle of the hall led upstairs, I took the door right next to it and found myself in a dining room. The living room was apparently not at ground level.
An older, somewhat mousy woman was mopping the floor.
I would have to ask her. "Excuse me miss, where is the drawing room? I'm supposed to meet my father there." The woman looked up, startled. Then she made a hasty curtsy, smiled apologetically and said in a surprisingly low voice: "Welcome! You must be Mr. Herbert's daughter. The drawing room is on the right on the second floor. If you keep to the right on the stairs, you can't miss it."
I thanked her and set off. All the delays were not helping to calm me down.
Up the stairs. It didn't look much different on the second floor than on the first.
I pushed open the door to the lounge.
And there he is, standing at the window. My father.
The first thing I noticed was how small he was. I was a little taller, he would have to look up slightly to see my eyes. And he was fat, almost spherical. Black hair, just like mine.
Apparently not all of my looks came from my mother.
A small pince-nez instead of glasses rested on his nose. He was also wearing a robe and slippers. All in all, he looked like a caricature of a petit bourgeois.
Ironic, because as a bank manager he actually belonged to the upper middle classes.
Thanks to the gap in my memory, I had assumed all sorts of things about my father, from a four-legged fellow to an exact replica of my old dad.
But I had never expected this droll appearance, especially when he had always sounded so stern and rational in his letters.
But I couldn't let that distract me, he was still my father and my legal guardian. And I was no longer the same girl he had sent to the seminary. Now it was time to see if he would believe my story in person.
I took a deep breath and curtseyed: "Father". He turned to me and a smile spread across his face.
"Lavinia, dear, how nice of you to come. Did you have a good journey?"
Eight kilometers in a carriage. What could have happened then?
But politeness was still one of my top priorities, especially towards people I couldn't judge. So I replied: "There were no problems, Father. Thank you for the trouble of providing me with a carriage."
He waved me off. "Not at all, it's the right thing to do."
He came over and took my hand.
"We have a few things to discuss. But we shouldn't do that right away. We'll meet for tea. You should freshen up first."
He let go of me and gestured to the left. "Your new room is on the left in the corridor.
It's still undecorated, but I've had everything brought in from the old house. You can redecorate it to your heart's content over the next few days. Oh, and your personal maid is waiting for you there too. In the last few weeks, she's only been involved in auxiliary work to get the house ready. I'd be delighted if you could instruct her in her new work."
It all sounded more like orders than friendly advice, but at the moment anything that shortened the first meeting with him was fine with me. More time before the first serious conversation was something that would do me good.
So I simply curtseyed and left the room at a leisurely pace.
I still wouldn't be able to rest. Now it was time to get Marinette on my side.
When Marinette had realized who the job advertisement had come from, she had initially thought it was a bad joke. However, an embarrassingly long time had passed before she found out that the client was Lavinia Herbert.
At first, she had simply assumed that it must be some kind of eccentric, perhaps even a fetishist. At least she had no other explanation as to why a woman with dark skin was explicitly requested.
For that reason alone, she had hesitated longer to accept the offer.
But the job market was anything but kind to an African-looking woman, no matter how good she was at French. Moreover, she had simply chased Minchi out of the house without a recommendation and without a job recommendation, a good job was almost impossible.
She would have had to start from scratch again, if she had found a respectable job at all. After it became clear that, apart from this ad, she only had the choice between miserable paid work and prostitution, she had taken heart and gone to the address mentioned.
Even then, she had not attached any importance to the name Herbert, she had been fully occupied with worrying after the landlord had told her that he had not advertised a position and that he would have to ask his daughter first.
When he had hired her after two days, she had been overjoyed and had only found out which girl she had to thank for her new job when she spoke to the butler, Marcus.
Marinette had no idea what to expect.
When the carriage had pulled up downstairs, she had put her uniform in order, inspected the room once more and then stood waiting.
It wasn't long before the door was pushed open.
Lavinia... didn't look well.
Sure, it was hard to tell and someone who had never seen her before wouldn't recognize it.
But Marinette could see that the hastily applied make-up did little to hide the circles under her eyes.
What's more, she no longer walked with such pride and swagger. She looked more... erratic.
Nevertheless, it would do her no good to address her new employer immediately.
She performed a perfect curtsey. "At your service mistress."
Lavinia smiled wearily at her. "I appreciate the formality, Miss Dumas, but I think we already know each other a little. May I call you Marinette? I wouldn't have a problem if we were on a first-name basis in private."
"Marinette is all right," Marinette replied cautiously. "However, I would remain formal with them for now, Miss Herbert. After all, we don't know each other personally and I've only just started working for them."
"Just as you please. I assume you would like to ask me something?"
Marinette actually wanted to. Why are they suddenly so friendly and formal? Or why are you treating this like we've known each other for a long time? She had never spoken to Lavinia directly and had only met her in the presence of Sarah.
But that seemed too aggressive, so she asked the next best thing: "Your father said they placed an ad specifically for me because they didn't want to let a fully trained ladysmaid slip through their fingers. Is that the only reason?"
Or do they want to play a nasty trick on Sarah with her? But she'd better not say that out loud and Lavinia didn't seem to have heard the unspoken second question.
"That was one of two reasons, yes. Besides..." She played with the fabric of her dress, slightly embarrassed.
"Besides, it seemed unfair of Miss Minchi to just throw you out like that without a recommendation. After all, they had nothing to do with the whole situation with Sarah's father. Without the recommendation, you wouldn't have found a good job, would you? I mean, that was almost the same as sending them out to beg."
This was not at all what Marinette had expected. The fate of servants, especially others, especially in comparison to Sarah's fate would not have been noticed by anyone. Except Sarah, perhaps. Had her former mistress rubbed off on Lavinia after all?
She hoped so. Sarah had been an outstandingly good mistress, and even if Marinette didn't want to admit it, she had been something of a little sister.
Before she could continue the thought, Lavinia began to speak again.
"I would leave it up to you to decide whether you want to accompany me back to the seminary.
You are welcome to stay here until I have finished the seminar. I would understand if you don't want to see Miss Minchi or Sarah again. That should be no problem, as my father will probably have to be persuaded to let them come with me. He was a little skeptical about my needing a personal maid even now."
That made Marinette think for a moment. She didn't want to go back Miss Minchi and the whole situation at the seminary with Sarah and Becky reminded her far too much of her own childhood and what she had had to endure.
But on the other hand, she had to think about how a sweet girl like Sarah had suffered from what she had been through.
If she were back at the seminary, maybe she could help.
So she said, "Miss, I would welcome the opportunity to return to the seminary with you. Miss Michi doesn't scare me and even though it might be uncomfortable, I won't shy away from it."
Lavinia smiled wearily at her. "Then it's decided. We should determine what your duties will be in the next few days. Right now, I just need to change for tea."
"Might I also suggest you fix your makeup, miss? Your exhaustion is... plain to see."
Lavinia settled down in front of the dressing table. "After i've changed. Fix my hair, too, please. I don't want to worry my father unnecessarily."
"Of course miss."
That worked better than I had expected. Marinette has noticed that I'm behaving strangely, but with her in the seminar I have an excellent ally to help Sarah and Becky.
She's also exceptionally skilled with her hands. It would never have occurred to me to lay my hair like that. And I really don't want my father to see how the problem with Mr. Carrisford is bothering me. I have to find him, and soon.
But first, tea with my father. This is going to be a serious, lengthy conversation.
I mustn't make any mistakes.
I entered the Parlour, a somewhat sparse but cozy room with a view of the street.
Dad had changed his clothes by now and I was grateful for that.
He no longer looked like a walking caricature, but like a serious banker. A suit definitely suited him better than a robe.
Now it's time. A lot depends on this conversation in the future. Especially how much my father supports me. Hopefully I could sell him the new Lavinia well.
I wiped my hands nervously on my dress. Of course I had changed, it was hard to show up for tea in street clothes.
Father stood up. It was strange how quickly I had accepted him as my father. Probably because there was no alternative.
"Please sit down, Lavinia. We have some things to discuss." I sat down. He poured me some tea.
"Next, I'd like to ask you why you haven't collected the money for the exchange yet. I had hoped to talk to you about the success or failure of the campaign by now. I had expected more reliability from my daughter."
That started well. Now I'll have to see if I can get out of this with half-truths.
"I was actually planning to do that, but then I got distracted by things at the seminar."
"What kind of things?"
"My two best friends are having a difficult time at the moment." Calling Sarah my best friend might have been a bit of a brag, but fascinating acquaintance wouldn't be enough justification. "I've already written to you about Sarah. Her father died in debt and she is completely impoverished. Miss Minchi hired her as a servant, supposedly out of kindness so that she wouldn't end up on the street, but actually to pay off her father's debts.
Sarah... is not well. I know that new servants in particular are disciplined and treated more harshly and that they don't eat as well as young ladies.
But Sarah has lost almost ten kilos in three months and you can see signs of bruising on her face almost all the time. It's gotten so bad that I sometimes fear that if she wasn't so optimistic and I sometimes sneak her food, she would have killed herself long ago. Or would have succumbed to a fatal illness.
She has to walk around in the cold almost every day, undernourished and with inadequate clothing.
That will kill her sooner or later.
Not that Miss Minchi treats Becky, the other scullery maid, any better. She is treated almost as badly and paid almost as little because Miss Minchi keeps taking her wages away.
Sometimes I'm afraid we'll have to bury one of them before spring.
I also have a certain suspicion about Miss Minchi. Not only is she acting out her sadism on two innocent girls my age right in front of us, but I suspect that she made up the whole debt just so she could keep Sarah as a debt slave. I mean what kind of debt? Her father paid the tuition up front and ran all other expenses through an account that I don't think would have allowed debt. Maybe the debt is just an excuse for Miss Minchi to keep an unpaid servant. How could Sarah dispute that? She has no money, no help, and no experience in the matter, she is as ignorant as I was before I asked for your help."
Dad's face had taken on an inscrutable expression, but I couldn't stop myself. I just had to tell someone about this.
"And Jessie has it only slightly better. I don't know if I ever told you this exactly, but Jessie's family is significantly worse off than anyone else in the seminary.
She barely has her school fees and clothes, I had to lend her the rest because otherwise she would never have looked respectable. Her parents were counting on her finding a rich husband to provide for her.
I had always planned that when I got married or looked for a husband myself, I would find her someone suitable, preferably my husband's brother, so that we could stay together. Or maybe take her as a companion, if my husband allows it."
All half-truths. I would prefer to see Jessie with either Sarah or me, not married. And she hadn't said anything about it yet, but I knew it was coming and that my plan to save her wouldn't work without Sarah's money. Jessie had also traveled to her parents' house for Christmas. And I could guess what they would talk about.
"But her parents suddenly want to marry her off now and they've picked almost the worst possible suitor.
A Mr. Watney who is rich, but almost thirty years older than her.
And he's... not a gentleman. He's made some... very inappropriate comments to her, Jessie says he always looks like he can't wait to get his hands on her.
She says his attention makes her feel so dirty and shameful and I don't think it's going to be a happy marriage. Jessie will suffer.
I've tried to find a way out for her, but I can't give her parents any money and I don't know a better, rich suitor to offer her.
I'm getting desperate about her problems. I can't help Sarah, I can't help Jessie, but I'm trying anyway, I can't just give up on my friends.
Plus the regular school work in seminary and what else I should be doing for you myself on the side.
I'm not in a position to get into the stock market right now. I'd just be making a bad decision. I thought I'd just wait until something improved."
Dad said nothing for a full minute. Then he took a deep sip of tea, wiped his mouth with his napkin and said, "Actually, I was going to reprimand you. I thought your enthusiasm for work had already waned again.
In view of what you've just told me, I think it's best if I get straight to the main topic of this conversation.
I had actually intended to deregister you from the seminar from the New Year."
He raised his hand before I could even protest.
"Because of what you just told me, I'll think about it again. First, let me explain what I was thinking.
Lavinia, you've been in the seminary for about seven years and you've always been at the top of your class, except for a couple times because of that Sarah girl. I think you've learned everything there is to learn there.
Your French and manners are impeccable, you've mastered household math and all the cultural things a young lady needs to know.
Normally I would have been satisfied with that and left you in the seminary until your eighteenth birthday.
But after you wrote me your letter arguing that you didn't have all the skills that would be useful later in life and therefore asked me to teach you business math, I wondered if there weren't other gaps in your education. Sure, more culture is always good, but I wouldn't have brought you home for that. A few more books on Shakespeare would have been enough.
But then I noticed something. Your most important task after marrying whomever will be to run the household. You've learned how to draw up and calculate a budget, but there's another problem. I don't think you'll marry someone who doesn't have servants, so you won't necessarily have to be able to cook and clean.
But you'll probably have to manage the servants who do that, and Miss Minchi didn't teach you that, did she?"
The most Miss Michi would have taught me is how to beat servants and cheat them out of their wages. "No, she didn't, father. But isn't that what the butler or the housekeeper does?"
"Not in all houses, only if the servants are large enough to justify such a position. Besides, you wanted to learn so that no one can cheat you later. And how are you going to control your employees if you don't know how to do it properly?"
I hadn't thought about that. That was an aspect of life with servants that I had never thought about. That a certain amount of work still had to be done.
Father continued: "I had actually planned to keep you here in the house for the next year and give you responsibility for the household. In the beginning, of course, I would have stood by you, together with Marcus and your new maid.
But now I no longer think that's the best thing to do. If your friends are really in such a bad place, it would be cruel to tear you away from their side."
I took a deep breath. Hopefully I would be able to persuade him to stay the course and not reconsider in two months' time. A compromise had to be offered.
"I... Thank you, Father, that means a lot to me. But you're also right that management is something I should learn. I have an idea: I'll be here for the next two weeks one way or another. I could take over the household on a trial basis during this time, couldn't I? And then again at Easter and in the summer. That way we can see each other more often, I can stay at the seminar most of the time and still learn enough. I mean, I'm not assuming that I'll get married straight after graduation, it'll probably take another year or so. And then I can take on the responsibility for a longer period of time."
I had hit the bull's eye and my father seemed very enthusiastic. "Yes, that's a wonderful idea, Lavinia! You can start straight away, after our conversation Mary, the cook, wanted to talk about the shopping for the Christmas dinners."
"Good." I rose jerkily and curtsied. "Then I'll get straight to work. I'll prove to you that your faith in me isn't wasted."
Dad had a broad, happy smile on his face. "Intelligent, plucky and energetic. Now that you're almost grown up, I can see how much you are like your mother."
That sounded like a compliment. But I knew nothing about this woman apart from her looks and origin. The Indian woman I had always been ashamed of. The woman my father had perhaps loved or who had simply been a brief affair with the maid.
I had a few questions, but you shouldn't wake sleeping dogs.
"Thank you, Father." I made my way to the kitchen.
Sarah lay on the bed in her little attic room and tried desperately to stop her tears. But it didn't help.
The last week had been terrible and now, on Christmas Day, it had reached its sad climax.
Even though most of the students had left the seminar to go home to their parents. Nevertheless, Becky and Sarah had to work until they dropped all week to make the seminar "presentable" for the festivities. At least the decorations had mainly been done by Miss Amelia. Then there was the shopping and work for the cook to get the feast ready in time. Of course, they hadn't gotten any of it.
But at least it hadn't looked as if they would have to go to bed hungry, because Cook had made a thick soup from the leftovers.
But just before they had had a chance to eat it, Miss Minchi had rushed into the kitchen, almost furious with rage, slapped her in the face and screamed accusations of theft and ingratitude.
Sarah had backed away fearfully, not knowing why she had suddenly attacked her like that.
Then Miss Minchi had held up the blanket and Sarah had realized.
She had been in her room for whatever reason and had found the things the magic had left her. And confiscated them.
Then she had screamed herself into a rage, threatening them several times to throw them out. Meanwhile, Miss Amelia had appeared and tried desperately to calm her sister down, but things were getting worse and worse.
At least Amelia had managed to convince Minchi not to throw her out onto the street. But she had taken away their blankets, their warmer clothes, the remaining canned food and the candles and sent them to bed without food.
Sarah had half hoped that before she went upstairs the magic would have replaced everything, but the attic was empty. The same was true the next morning.
During the day she had been chased from A to B again and in the end she had not been given any food. And the attic was empty again. The magic had not returned. Sarah had tried to find comfort in Emily, but she felt empty.
It had not helped. And so she lay crying in the darkness.
Late in the evening, the servants of the Herbert household had met to play cards. New Year was behind them and the mood was therefore happy and relaxed.
Marinette did not take part in the game, but sat at the table so that she could join in the conversation. The conversation was currently mainly about the daughter of the house, who had been their boss for the last two weeks.
"She's doing pretty well, isn't she?" Sophie was one of the two maids in the house and, despite her young age, was resolute and hands-on. It was only her second job, but you couldn't say that she wasn't doing her job well.
"I would have expected it to end in disaster at the beginning and for us to have to run around like scared chickens to save everything. But apart from the thing with the wine, it went relatively smoothly.
"I don't know." Molly, the second maid, was older, shy and mouse-gray. But she knew her job. "Sure, nothing major happened. But she had all the help she could possibly need, and her job consists mainly in asking us what the best course of action is in the situation, and then ordering that. A real lady would know what to order without us."
She played a card to Tom, the gardener and assistant cook. Sophie snorted. "And when is she going to learn that if not now? She has already won my heart by listening to us when we tell her how to do something. My last employer kept telling me how to do my job, got it completely wrong, and then fired me when her tea party turned into a disaster because of poor preparation. I don't have the feeling that would happen with Miss Herbert."
She passed a card to Alice, the elderly cook.
"Miss Herbert is very nice," said the newest member of the servants, a boy named Peter, who was standing by in his carriage as a chauffeur. The others didn't let him play yet, so he just warmed himself up by the fireplace.
"She's polite and always says thank you. I only had that with a few customers when I was a taxi driver. And she also organized a better meal for us at Christmas."
Marinette had to agree. It was rare for a Christmas party with servants to have good food. The best things were always bought by the servants themselves, and the party was therefore usually rather dreary. But Lavinia had had some things contributed. What was served upstairs for dinner wasn't as good, but it was better than some.
"You shouldn't praise her so much," said the butler, Marcus. "Sure, she's polite now, but only because her father is watching her behavior very closely. As soon as he looks away, she'll be back to her old self."
Marinette had a similar suspicion, but she was still surprised by the dislike in his voice.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Before she started the seminar, I was already her father's butler. When she was around him, she was always the perfect little angel, but as soon as he was gone, she became a little devil. Always the same. I've never met an adult who treated me with as much contempt as this child. Sure, she was always the polite lady. But you could tell that she saw my mere presence as an insult."
Sophie didn't seem convinced. "Maybe you just scared the girl. I mean, without wanting to offend you, but you look like you could bite a dog's head off."
Marcus laughed darkly. "I wouldn't have cared, I know what I look like. I would have understood fear, that's how many people react. It was the way she made it clear, despite all her politeness, that she thought I was the lowest of the low. The girl is no saint and certainly not nice by nature."
"I can understand you to a certain extent," said Marinette. "When I met Miss Herbert in the service of my last mistress, she was polite but very arrogant and not particularly kind. But then she had a breakdown and became much quieter, shyer and more considerate. She even went so far as to apologize to my former mistress, which I would not have thought possible before. Then I had to leave the seminar, and when I saw Miss Herbert again two weeks ago, I almost didn't recognize her. So much nicer and more pleasant. She told my mistress at the time that she had an inspiration and wanted to change for the better. Maybe that really happened."
"Maybe." Marcus discarded his last card. "Or maybe she just got better at lying."
Peter is the Peter from the anime. I liked the character and the addition he brought to the story, but I didn't know how I could have integrated him into this story. That's why he's just in the background.