Story: Florence, Lady Cranwell. Chapter 1.

by Jackie J

Florence, a delicate flower, sat in the window seat wearing her beautiful dress stroking her fingers through her long brown hair looking out over the extensive manicured gardens at the front of the house. Her eyes stared down the long gravel driveway to the main gates and the road beyond which stretched though the woodland and over Tory Tine hill. She sat there most morning after dressing and breakfast wishing for the vision of her dashing husband clearing the brow of Tory Tine and galloping down to be greeted into her open arms.

Of course, it would some time before she had the pleasure of her husband’s touch, the Regiment was overseas and Lord Cranwell, a Captain with the brave Hussars, was at camp in the Crimea awaiting orders.

Florence was twenty-three, her husband of two years being older at thirty-one. Almost three months since Jonathan’s departure and her thoughts drifted to the grand ball held in the main hall before he and his regiment had set sail. A main hall that now stood silent and empty of the smiles and laughter left behind.

A hand on her shoulder Florence turned and smiled up wistfully at Catherine the widow of the late Lord Cranwell whose passing brought the title and lands to her only son Jonathan.

 Catherine had begrudgingly accepted her demotion at Cranwell Manor, when Jonathan inherited the title and his pretty new wife became Lady of the Manor. Accepted is probably the wrong word having never actually accepted that this young thing was ever good enough for her only son. Her choice of bride for her Jonathan, Lady Mary Downton, the daughter of an Earl had been rejected for the daughter of Sir Richard Collingwood a mere land owner, granted a very rich land owner but Catherine saw the family to be commoners and no more. Despite her pleading and Jonathan and Mary having been childhood sweethearts, Lord Cecil had given the union his blessing and when he died shortly after the wedding and Jonathan inherited the title Catherine had little influence in the affairs at Cranwell.

Catherine was silently seething at the presumed arrogance of the new Lady Cranwell changing this and changing that within the manor. In truth Florence was just making the manor her home updating the furnishings. If Catherine was seething about the changes being made in what was her home Florence’s less than refined accent was a constant source of irritation. Whilst well educated, being from the country Florence had never considered a gentile and polite soft lilt of importance. In fact, it amused Jonathan and often he had her read to him. Catherine was not alone in her veiled contempt for sweet Florence her friends also believing a fellow aristocrat would have been a more suitable choice for her son. Catherine and her friends, over afternoon tea, had often chuckled discussing and plotting the potential demise of Lady Florence and one particular scenario had given Catherine food for thought and a scheme was already fermenting in her mind. Florence was headstrong and opinionated and besides murder it seemed the most credible solution to her problem.  Catherine however hid her feelings towards Florence very well and outwardly the two of them could be taken to be friends.     

“Your pinning won’t hasten his return Florence my dear come, let us continue with the embroidery or would you prefer I get Janet to bring out your painting materials? The woodland picture you did was lovely, worth hanging perhaps?”

Florence was bored she missed Jonathan so much, if he were here they would be out riding together visiting the tenants on the farms. The days seemed endless embroidery, painting, sewing, writing letters walking in the gardens punctuated only by meals.  

Florence sighed.

“Oh, I suppose Catherine perhaps the painting again, please get Janet to set up my things at the back of the Orchard?”

The morning meandered away and with the overhead sun now strong even beneath her broad brimmed hat the light prevented any accurate reproduction. With her brushes plopped into the jar of water Florence gathered her skirts and headed back into the house.

It was almost time for lunch and having freshened up and stared disappointedly at the empty mail tray Florence joined her mother in law at the table to dine and perhaps somewhat over dramatically yawned.

“No letter again from Jonathan I wish her would write more.”

Catherine was tired of reminding her daughter in law that her son was at war and would be preoccupied with more pressing matters and sighed.

“Oh, Florence you must shake yourself out of this Jonathan said you could join him in the baggage away from the front if you wished a lot of the wife’s do.”

Florence was aware that many wife’s and sweethearts had visited their husbands but the sight of so many injured soldiers had left some quite traumatised and she definitely did not want to share that experience.

Janet entered the dining room in her pristine uniform and served luncheon Catherine deciding that this would be a good a time as any to promote her scheme for Florence.

“There you are Florence you always seem to be bored look at Janet busy like a bee no time to be bored. It always amazes me with the maids they are so diligent a special talent for sure not many could do what they do.”

Florence scoffed.

“What, a special talent, being a maid, you surely jest Catherine, why anyone could do what they do, anyone.”

Catherine smiled she knew that would be the attitude that Florence would adopt and continued with her soup.

Janet returned to clear table and Florence paid a little more attention to her following Catherine’s comments.

Little more was said on the matter and Florence took a walk in the gardens during the afternoon picking flowers. Some to press and some bunches for the vases in the manor.

Early evening after dinner with Florence and Catherine pressing needles into their embroidery in the quiet of the parlour they chatted. Catherine casually raised the subject again of how skillful and difficult a maid’s work was sighting various aspects of their chores around the manor discreetly implying that this work would be beyond the abilities of Florence. Florence pressed her needle a little harder through her fabric listening to her mother in law suggesting she would be incapable of doing the simplest of maid’s tasks.

The particular conversation ended in a I can, no you couldn’t, yes, I could, no you couldn’t stand off until both smiled and laughed, Florence’s amusement genuine that of Catherine’s a little more contrived. Over the coming week it became a bit of a game when Janet was in their proximity at her tasks Catherine would point and smile could you? Florence mistakenly not thinking anything untoward would giggle and reply, yes, I could.

Over supper on Saturday they laughed and joked about their little game and Catherine pushed forward.

“Well I don’t suppose you would like to prove what you have been telling me would you Florence?”

Florence nearly choked on her glass of wine and laughed.

“What, are you serious me be a maid here at Cranwell, I don’t think so Catherine I am afraid you will have to take my word for it.”

Catherine joined Florence in her laughter although feigned.

“No not here at Cranwell that would be ridiculous and of course no test at all, Janet would just cover for you, leave you to do all the easy duties and tell me you were perfect and the Lady of the manor a maid in her own home ridiculous.”

Catherine took a more serious tone.

“No if you thought you could really prove what you have said, which I must say I doubt very much, it would have to be somewhere else, somewhere where they did not know who you were.”

Florence looked at Catherine filling her glass and smiled.

“So, you doubt my word Catherine that I could handle a maid’s duties.”

Catherine sensing her scheme for Florence was not so farfetched after all continued.

“Oh, Florence I don’t doubt your word I truly belief that you think that you could perform a maid’s duties I just doubt that you actually could.”   

Florence unknowingly had swallowed Catherine’s bait hook line and sinker.

“Balderdash, if there was a way to prove it I would believe me.”

Catherine sipped on her wine and smiled.

“Well young lady perhaps there is a way, leave that with me.”

An exchange of letters, followed by a clandestine meeting and Catherine was all prepared to put her scheme into place all she needed now was Florence’s agreement.

During a casual discussion after lunch, a week after the conclusion of their little game ended with Florence saying she would prove her abilities to perform a maid’s task’s if she could, Catherine raised the subject of Florence’s pledge.

“The other week Florence what you said about if there was a way to prove being able to perform a maid’s duties?”

Florence removed her napkin and dabbed her lips.

“Yes, what about it, I said if there was a way to prove my word I would, so?”

Catherine smiled.

“Well I have found a way, if you are still so confident, but I doubt you will take up the offer and if you did I doubt very much you would succeed in proving anything.”

It sounded like a challenge it was meant to be.

“Indeed Catherine, so pray tell what way have you found?”

Catherine moved a little closer sitting on the dining chair next to Florence, not wanting to risk being overheard, then proceeded to relay the proposition. Florence listened and giggled although Catherine continued in a serious tone until the full extent of the proposal was conferred.

“There so that’s the invitation Florence but like I said before, I doubt very much you will take up the opportunity even though it would prove what you have boasted to me that you could do.”

Florence had never actually boasted about anything just said she could do what the maid was doing but if it sounded like a challenge before it was more so now.

“Well Catherine I am not sure it would be right although I concede it would be conclusive and bring an end to the matter. Let me think it over we have a week to respond, don’t we?”

Catherine hid her emotions well and a little reverse psychology never went amiss was Florence, Lady Cranwell really going to go ahead with this?

“Oh, forget it Florence I believe you about doing all those things that only a trained maid can do well.”

Florence suspected nothing and this last taunt from Catherine haunted her in her bed that evening.

Forget proving my word, things that only a trained maid can do well, I will show her!

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