Story: Veronica and Aunt Miranda. Chapter 2.

by Jackie J

Veronica was packed and ready and Elizabeth smiled at her daughter who was stood waiting for her carriage to take her on the first part of her journey to the railway station. Elizabeth was still apprehensive about her daughter heading north for the summer but her husband had convinced her that Veronica would most likely be back at Latchwood within the month rather than staying for the full summer. How little they knew!

Veronica had made the journey from Wiltshire to the north of England a number of times. It was tedious and she hated it when the open fields gave way to the grim industrialisation that sprawled from the tracks of the major towns that the locomotive passed through.

The train pulled into the steam-filled station that marked the end of Veronica’s train journey. Amid the hustle and bustle of activity on the platform Veronica spied her smiling aunt just beyond the ticket inspection barrier. 

The two embraced by the rail and a giddy Veronica giggled.


“Oh Auntie thank you for arranging this! It will be so much fun. I just know it will.”

Miranda stood back and smiled.

“Well it’s what you wanted. There can be no going back now. Have you packed like I told you in my letter?”

Whilst they spoke a porter arrived with his trolley containing Veronica’s luggage and stood awaiting instruction.

“Yes, Miranda, the blue case is the one we need.”

Miranda approached the porter and having removed the blue trunk from the stack he headed off across the platform with the remainder of Veronica’s things.

Miranda turned to her niece.

“Bring your trunk and follow me.”

The station hotel was only a short distance from the station and Veronica was soon becoming familiar with the pre-booked room her auntie had arranged for her first night's stay in the north.

Having spent two hours running through the do’s and don’ts for a junior maid Miranda hugged her niece before leaving.

“So remember what I have told you. Tomorrow a carriage will collect you at seven thirty in the morning to bring you to Lowercroft. The carriage will take you to the rear entrance and you will be met by Mrs Robinson. There can be no familiarity between us and you must follow Mrs Robinson’s instructions to the letter. Understand?” 

Veronica smiled.

“Yes, auntie. Sorry, Mrs Shipley.”

“Yes, remember that well Ronnie. One slip like that and you will be back on the train to Latchwood. You are a maid now and nothing more. I have gone out on a limb for you with this and I will not be embarrassed. I look forward to seeing my niece again in the autumn and not before. Is that understood?”

Ronnie mocked curtsy of deference.

“Yes, Mrs Shipley.”

Miranda smiled and could not resist giving Veronica one last hug and a kiss.

Veronica had given her aunt her valuables and all other of her belongings that would mark out to be anything other than the common maid she was to portray. Opening her trunk Veronica, or was it Ronnie now, removed the plain drab clothes she would wear in the morning. She had to be convincing when she met Mrs Robinson. With her flimsy silk nightdress replaced by a plain cotton shift Veronica stared at her reflection in the mirror with a degree of apprehension. 

She had to do it. She knew she had. It would grow back over the summer. Of course it would. And what maid had she ever seen with such luscious, well-cared-for silky curls? Her aunt was right and her mother would never know, would she? Snip, snip, chop, chop. A brush through and some further light trimming and it was done.  Veronica’s face looked a little more round, puffy and two or three years younger at least, perhaps even four. She chuckled fondling her self-trimmed short bob. She had never had short hair as long as she could remember but then she had never been a maid before either. 

A restless night’s sleep and the morning eventually came.

The shabby worn clothes that she had acquired seemed to hang heavy about her and the shoes, one with a purposely very well worn heel and sole, made her gait quite awkwardly. Ronnie was ready and smiled at the trunk she was to leave for her aunt, Mrs Shipley, to have collected later. She tugged the ties of her bonnet, grabbed the woollen bag-like bundle of belongings and headed down through the lobby and out onto the busy street. 

Recognising the crest on the door of the carriage she approached and a rough-looking man who had been tending the horses offered a toothless smile.

“Ronnie is it? The new maid for Mrs Robinson at Lowercroft Hall?”

Ronnie smiled and nodded afraid to speak.

“In you get then, missy.”  

Coachmen knew their duty when conveying Miss Veronica Singleton but there was no help up the steps into the carriage for this working girl. 

The journey from the squalor of the city to the rural aspect of Lowercroft was the same that she had made previously. It was the same coach, taking the same winding rutted lanes but its cargo was much changed. The bundle of clothing sat on the seat by her side that many would discount for rags. She wore a heavy well-worn drab woollen dress, her cropped hair was hidden and tucked beneath a cheap bonnet without a hint of care or finesse and she could not hide her nervousness. Yes, outwardly this cargo was much changed, yet its real change had yet to begin. 

The carriage rattled up the cobbles into the rear yard of Lowercroft and Ronnie stumbled out unaided with her bundle. Miranda was watching unseen from an upstairs window: well she wanted this, didn't she?

A stern-faced Mrs Robinson stood on the steps of the rear entrance, hands on hips and stared at her new dishevelled charge. So this was Ronnie, her new junior maid.

Mrs Robinson had wanted to bring a maid she had known from a previous employment to Lowercroft, not happy but she had yielded to her Mistress's preference.  The girl walking awkwardly towards her looked like she couldn’t look after herself, let alone a household!

Ronnie stood in front of the woman who would control and command her every waking hour from this moment on and clumsily curtsied.

“R, R,  R, Ronnie m, m, Miss.”

Veronica inwardly berated herself, cursing her nerves. Where had that stutter come from? She had not stuttered since she was a child.

Mrs Robinson smirked.

“Yes we have been expecting you come inside let’s get your settled in child.”

Ronnie was shown to her room. It was cramped and basic but clean and tidy with a small window looking out over the rear yard. For an heiress it was no better than a prison cell, but for a junior maid it was a palace. Most junior maids, whom Veronica was seeking to portray, would rarely have a room of their own and Ronnie gratefully thanked Mrs Robinson for this privilege.    

Having given Mrs Robinson her signed agreement of service the new maid was left to freshen and change into her uniform. Ronnie surveyed what would be her new world. Uniforms, underwear, hosiery, boots, aprons and mop caps neatly arranged in the closet and drawers, a jug and wash bowl, a narrow hard bunk and not much more. There were no frills, that life was behind her now. A simple maid’s life lay ahead.  

Thankful to be stripped out of the clothes that she had arrived in Ronnie was in no hurry to dress. This is what she had thought of, dreamed of. Those stolen moments, watching her mother’s maids at Latchwood meekly rustling about their duties in their drab garb, but more than that Jane, maid Jane here at Lowercroft, Jane epitomised all that Veronica desired. Ronnie felt weak and was tingling from head to toe withdrawing the underwear from the drawers. The low quality coarse garments were a very loose fit and having fastened up the buttons the strange and unfamiliar weakening feelings continued whilst she dressed.  

All the clothing was obviously not new and quite shapeless and baggy on her. The petticoats, then the heavy woollen black dress and tying the laces of her shiny black boots Ronnie sighed in blissful capitulation to her willing self-degradation. Lifting the yoke of her starched bibbed apron over her head she drew the tapes behind her and fumbled a securing broad bow in place. Just the mop cap now. Slowly Veronica pulled the crown of self coronation onto her head, consummating her outward transformation from the privileged Miss Veronica Singleton to Ronnie, the junior maid of Lowercroft Hall.

Ronnie stared at her image in the mirror. She looked so different. She was different. To all who would see her now she would be no more than a lowly maid.

A sharp rap on the door was followed by the bustling entrance of Mrs Robinson.

 “Good, you are dressed. Not a bad fit, I see.”

And so it was that Miss Veronica Singletons life as a maid in her aunt's home began.

Whilst she could not admit to such, much of the home of her aunt was of course familiar to Ronnie - the main living quarters, the bedrooms, the hallways and stairs. But much was not - the kitchen, the wash house, larders, the rear yard and store rooms. During the tour Mrs Robison told her new maid the various cleaning routines and standards expected of her.

The familiarisation of the layout of Lowercroft Hall completed, maid Ronnie was introduced to the other two servants at Lowercroft: Betsy the cook, who also managed the laundry, and Lucy, the previous junior maid who had been promoted to Mistress's maid when Jane left Lowercroft.

The cook squeezed Ronnie’s cheek and chortled speaking in a strong northern accent and dialect that Ronnie had great difficulty in deciphering but Betsy’s smiling round face seemed friendly enough.  Lucy was less friendly and again her accent and dialect left Ronnie a little bemused with what had been said to her.

Mrs Robinson explained that Lucy would show her the daily cleaning routines and that she would also help Betsy in the kitchen and with the laundry.

The tour and introductions over Mrs Robinson told Ronnie that the Mistress of Lowercroft would see her before she started your duties.

“Curtsy, keep your gaze lowered and speak only when you are asked a direct question. Do you understand?”

Ronnie curtsied.

Y..y.. yes  M.m..m .miss”

The Stammer she had not been afflicted with since early years manifested itself again. Ronnie was unsure, nervous, excited she was to see her aunt Miranda or, more correctly, presented to her, no longer her privileged niece Veronica but her new maid Ronnie.

The large doors leading into the private study of Mrs Shipley opened and following Mrs Robinson Ronnie entered, curtsied and then stood meekly by the housekeeper's side not daring to look at her aunt.

Miranda looked up and could not hide her smile seeing her sister's little princess with the gorgeous flowing long locks of her hair shorn and denuded of her expensive frills and bows replaced by the dour, unflattering uniform of service. She still struggled to understand why her niece, a privileged, pretty, confident and educated young lady, would wish to demean herself in this way. Seeing her niece uniformed and looking so meek by the side of Mrs Robinson Miranda wondered if she had done the right thing in allowing Veronica to become a maid in her household.

It was too late to change things now, this was not her niece Veronica Singleton stood with her head of household, Mrs Robinson, it was Ronnie the new junior maid and hard as it would be, this is how the girl must be treated. It is what her niece wanted, but for how long? Miranda would have to wait and see.

“So this is your new girl, Mrs Robinson? Ronnie, isn't it?”

Mrs Robinson looked at an obviously nervous maid at her side.

“Yes, Mistress. This is the new girl you asked to see. I have her signed agreement here.”

Miranda took the agreement from Mrs Robison and smirked before standing to walk around her new maid.

“What a pretty little thing you are! I do hope this weak-looking maid will be able to cope with the work, Mrs Robinson?”

 “So girl. You are on a month’s trial. Perform well to Mrs Robinson's satisfaction and we will consider a longer term for you. Fail and you will be out on your ear. Do you understand girl?”

There was no familiarity just like her aunt had told her. There wouldn’t be. She was being spoken to like she was hired help, making her more nervous than she already was, but then that is exactly what she was now, what she wanted to be, wasn’t it?

Ronnie lowered a respectful curtsy

“Y, y yes m m mistress.”

That stammer again and Miranda looked at her new maid questioningly. Veronica never stammered. What’s wrong with the girl?

Miranda wanted to ask why she was stammering but knew she couldn’t with Mrs Robinson present. Perhaps that was just initial nerves. Why wouldn’t Ronnie be nervous on her first day of being a maid?

Having watched Mrs Robinson troop Ronnie out of the study to begin her duties of a maid at Lowercroft Miranda realised it was not going to be easy treating her niece like a common maid but she would have to. Miranda smiled at Ronnie’s signed agreement that Mrs Robinson had given her and muttered under her breath.

“Silly girl.”

Miranda was sure that her niece would find the hardship of actually being a maid somewhat different to whatever strange desires and imaginings she had before she embarked on this ridiculous venture. That is if Veronica even lasted out the month’s trial. She would come begging her aunt to bring an end to this nonsense and then perhaps Miranda could take her niece away somewhere to recover from her ordeal.

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