Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 3.

by Jackie J

Chapter 3

Life being Mrs Burtonshaw’s maid is certainly different to being Mistress of the household. I chuckle at the thought, feeding the laundry through the mangle, lucky Miss Williams. Counting the few days I worked alone, before Mrs Burtonshaw’s arrival, it will be three weeks of being aproned tomorrow. It still amuses me thinking of Miss Williams, not of myself but of the privileged Mistress of the household.  A harmless deceitful pretence, and initially a difficult delusion to accept. The deceit is encouraged by Mrs Burtonshaw, often referencing Miss Williams to her maid. Compliments and admonishments in equal measure, Miss Williams would not be happy with this or that. Miss Williams would be most pleased to see you have done this or that. I was fine working alone but with the routines of the rota and Mrs Burtonshaw’s organisation and strict control of me, there is little time to consider other than my life a maid.

Shortly after it was confirmed that Linda’s absence would be extended, and Mrs Burtonshaw noticing the discomfort of Linda’s shoes that I wore, Mrs Burtonshaw acquired a pair of low -heeled boots that I now wear. Heavy yes, but comfortable and practical for a working maid. I have given up on trying to protect my hands and nails, I know they are a mess, but why wouldn’t they be? The chipped nails are now cut short, and the palms of my hands display calloused skin. I used to spend literally hours brushing my hair, now, I am quite practiced at balling my hair atop of my head and with wearing the mop cap during my waking hours, so there is little point in wasting time on that.

The work of a maid at Crestley House is not difficult, and the work rota prepared by the housekeeper, Miss Renwick, adopted my Mrs Burtonshaw, and now carried out by myself, provides a rhythm to each day. Always something to do and never idle. Day dreaming is not an option for a working maid and, hearing Mrs Burtonshaw’s distinctive footsteps on the hallway tiles, the pace of my brush of the stair carpet quickens.

“Not finished with your brushing yet Milly? Don’t forget Miss Williams will expect those brass stair rods to be gleaming when polished.”

“Yes Miss”

I have one criticism of my Mistress maid, yes remarkably only one. She lets her mind wander whilst at work. What are in those thought’s heaven only knows? I have been amazed by maid Milly, she follows the rotas and my instructions without question and always completes her daily tasks. There is a pride in her work and a better cook than most households would find in their employ. I have to admit, in all my years, I doubt I have found a more dutiful and proficient maid which is remarkable given she is the Mistress of Crestley House.

“I am going to the village to settle the monthly household accounts with the traders Milly. Make sure that you have completed the deep clean of Miss William’s rooms when I return.”

I stand turning on the stairs and curtsy acknowledging Mrs Burtonshaw’s instructions

“Yes Miss”

 

The monthly accounts, Miss Renwick will be most upset if there is a penny out of place on her return, but I am sure Mrs Burtonshaw will be minded of that. With the last stair rod polished to a glistening sheen I sigh, wipe my hands on my apron and straighten my back. A mug of tea I think before I start on Miss Williams rooms.

I follow Janice’s payment routines with the various trades people, explaining that I am the temporary housekeeper at Crestley House. One query at the bakers was amicably settled and with all receipts in my satchel I decide to visit the tea rooms on the main street. Crestley is a typical village, a local hub for the surrounding area, picturesque, and bustling being a market day. I am not looking forward to the train journey to the city, but I need to know the situation with the maid Linda.

Just over an hour and I am stood outside fifteen Park gate place, the address given to me by Linda’s aunt.

My return to Crestley seems quicker, but I find return journeys often do. Good news concerning Linda’s mother, and it was agreed that Linda will be returning to her work at Crestley House at the end of the following week. It will soon be time for my Mistress maid to hang up her apron.

With all my cleaning equipment and materials gathered in my room, well Miss Williams room, I recall when Linda completed this infrequent routine. Four times a year and the room always felt and smelt so fresh. I have aired the room, indeed all the rooms daily, but with lack of use, this room in particular is missing its familiar aroma. Especially the scent of perfume, the bottles sitting unused at the vanity. I have cleaned this room weekly, but this is a deep clean, no light dusting today.

Having removed the rugs and curtains then swept and scrubbed the floors and wiped down all the paintwork and surfaces of the bedroom I start on the bathroom. A mistress cleaning her own toilet so thoroughly, unheard of, but a maid, well she better make sure she leaves not a stain or blemish, and I don’t.  The bathroom gleaming, I return to the bedroom. The floors are dry, and I take the rugs for a sound beating in the yards. Heavy work but it is done, and I return to the bedroom and lay them in place. With the curtains rinsed through and drying on the lines, the interior of the closets and drawers are next on the check list.

Emptying the closets and drawers, handling my, Miss Williams fine clothes, I smile at the soft lightness of the garments, the delicateness of the underwear and especially the shoes. I linger laying pretty dresses carefully on bed. I sigh feeling the obviousness of the roughened skin of my hands handling the silk and chiffon, reinforcing thoughts that these garments are not for the likes of a working maid.

The inside of the closets cleaned, and every drawer washed and relined the clothing is neatly returned to its place. With the camphor balls replaced and the doors and drawers closed I start on the polishing. Bed linen smoothed into place and fresh towels in the bathroom I am almost done.

The drapes are dry, and I give them a light pressing before rehanging them. I think of flowers, but with no mistress to saviour their fragrance it would be a waste. All done, I am exhausted and sit at the vanity. How long I stare at my image in the large mirror I don’t know, but what I do know is that the three weeks a maid has taken a toll of my complexion. The mop cap, an accepted adornment, sitting with an accustomed familiarity, a few wisps of random loose hair I tuck back in place.  I glance at the brush set at the side of the vanity and smile then chuckle. Not for you missy.

“Milly, Milly, where are you come to my office.”

Mrs Burtonshaw is back, and her voice beckons my attention. I look back at the spring-cleaned room before closing the door, everything is perfect.

Mrs Burtonshaw’s door is open and entering I curtsy.

“You called for me Miss?”

“Yes, I did Milly please take a seat. I have some news to share with you. Linda, the maid here at Crestley House, will be returning to her duties at the end of next week. As such your time being a maid at Crestley House will finish next Thursday.”

Should I be pleased? Pleased to no longer be Mrs Burtonshaw’s maid? Of course, I should, to return to the comforts and luxuries that I have deprived myself of these past weeks, but I am not, and no doubt my sulky expression and my half pleading words at hearing this news portrays just that.

“No, no, I mean, oh really, so soon?”

Bloody hell the woman looks like she is going to burst into tears. Which I could understand if I had told her that her days of being Mistress at Crestley House were over and that she was to remain aproned, a maid for the rest of her days?

“Milly, compose yourself, you knew this was a temporary position for you. You always knew that. We both understood this would end when Linda returned. I know you have enjoyed being my maid and an excellent maid you make. Look, you continue being a good maid for me until it’s time for you to return being the Mistress at Crestley House and I may have a proposition for you.”

Upset, and I know close to tears, I hardly hear what the housekeeper is saying. I have become so engrossed in my role of maid I had perhaps tried to forget that Linda would be returning soon but the reality is, she is due back in just over a weeks’ time.  The wearing of my uniform, the authoritative words and direction of Mrs Burtonshaw, my willing servility, that of a dutiful maid, over, at an end.

I look up and sniffle unable to hide my feelings.

“My goodness Milly anyone would think that you would rather remain a maid than being the Mistress at Crestley House. Now, back to your duties, there will be no tardiness whilst you remain my maid.”

It was only to be for a few days, even when Mrs Burtonshaw arrived and found me aproned. But this last week, especially this last week it as all felt so natural. Still, I have one more week a maid, which is more than I could have dreamed of before taking Linda’s apron for my own.

Standing I curtsy and leave Mrs Burtonshaw’s office. How strange that I should feel this way, most maids would give their right arm to become Mistress of a household such as Crestley House, but I am sure, I would be hard pressed to find a mistress, of the likes of Crestley House, willing to take the apron and become its maid? A form of madness, I guess.

Linda’s uniforms laundered and repaired where required, all back in the closets and drawers. I still have my boots, a retained trophy from my time a maid. Leaving the warmth of my luxurious bubble filled bathtub I wrap myself in the softness of my bathrobe and squirm in its comforting embrace. Returning to a recently denied pleasure is a pleasure in itself and towelling my hair I stride into my bedroom. I spend some time buffing and rounding my nails which are now free of grime. A light application of nail varnish improving their condition and look. Opening my underwear drawer, I raise a pair of silky knickers and inhale the perfumed fabric which is light and dreamy soft. With my clothes for the evening, chosen and laid out on the bed, I sit at the vanity with brush in hand and slowly draw long strokes of the brush through my hair. Having Slithered into my underwear the lightness of my dress is in sharp contrast to my attire of the previous four weeks.  

A bracelet, necklace, and my rings removed from my jewellery box I stand smoothing down the skirt of my dress and gaze into the mirror. Miss Millicent Williams appears to have made a return.

Mrs Burtonshaw is preparing dinner this evening, the eve of maid Linda’s return to Crestley House and I step lightly down the stairs hardly feeling the shoes on my feet.

Having poured myself a sherry I sit in the parlour in anticipation of the meal Mrs Burtonshaw is preparing.

The food almost ready to be served I find Miss Williams in the parlour and smile

“Well Miss Williams, I must say you look splendid, what a lovely dress you are wearing this evening.”

I stand and giggle at the compliment swishing the skirt of my dress forcing myself not to curtsy.

“Why thank you Mrs Burtonshaw, quite some time since I have worn the likes of this.”

There is a short but awkward silence which I break.

“Please, have a sherry Mrs Burtonshaw, help yourself, and you must dine with me this evening”

She looks so different out of her uniform and with a much more confident manner. Hard to believe that only this morning she was my maid serving me my breakfast and cleaning the kitchens.

“Why thank Miss Williams, just a small one, and I would be pleased to join you for dinner.”

The meal was well prepared and served by Mrs Burtonshaw and she joined me to dine. It felt quite strange being sat back at the dining table. I hate awkward silences and was first to speak again.

“This is lovely Mrs Burtonshaw.”

We both look at each other and laugh, perhaps a release of our shared anxiety and then our conversation flowed. I am the one who breaks protocol, but, given the circumstances of what had passed these last weeks, first names seem appropriate.

“Well Agnes, I must thank you for your indulgence, when I first met you, when you arrived at Crestley house my heart nearly stopped. I cannot begin to think what you thought seeing me like I was and when I tried to explain how you had found me.”

I was a little worried how things may be, when Miss Williams returned to her status and then asked me to join her for dinner, but I am pleasantly surprised. She sits elegant and poised and calls me by my first name, as if friends? Indulgence she says, I have never come across such a strange fascination, wishing to be aproned and put to work a housemaid.

“I will be honest with you Miss Williams, I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, a Mistress wanting be a maid? There was however no humour in your demeanour when you freely admitted that you wore the very uniform of your absent maid. I was curious, very curious, I felt like a priest at confession when you chose to bare your soul of your innermost supressed feelings. After you took me on a tour of the manor, I had had time to consider the situation.”

I laugh.

“Well, we both know the rest don’t we. I admit I never thought that things would turn out like they did, and I must say you have proved yourself to be an excellent maid.”

 I blush at Agnes’s last comment, and we talk of our shared experience, laughing at various things that had happed whilst my time a maid. The meal over Agnes stares across the table at me, the way she does, and I wonder what is on her mind.

 “What is it Agnes, I recognise that questioning look, tell me what it is?”

“Sorry for staring Miss Williams but I have to ask. When I told you that Linda was returning, and it would be time for you to hang up your apron, you looked upset, I sensed, if offered to remain my maid, you would. So, I ask, would you take the apron again?

My time a maid should have purged the ridiculousness of a Mistress forgoing her affluent lifestyle and comforts, for the rigours and deprivations of domestic service. How strange that it hasn’t, in fact my time under the control of Mrs Burtonshaw having had quite the opposite effect. However, I doubt such circumstance will ever present themselves again.

“Well, I have kept the boots you provided for me, who knows, why do you ask?”

If my suspicions are correct, her time being my maid have not quelled her passion to be taken into service. I am convinced that Miss Williams would tie the tapes of an apron around her waist again at the drop of a hat. Whilst I am sure Miss Williams is not aware that good maids, like she herself proved to be, are hard to find. But I do, and I have found one.

“Just curious that’s all” 

Subscribe to Lady2Maid Blog Newsletter