Story: Veronica and Aunt Miranda. Chapter 3.

by Jackie J

Forgetting her general fatigue, scuffed knuckles, broken grimy nails, sore knees and the calluses forming on her reddened hands, Veronica had overlooked or indeed perhaps never considered two factors that were having a significant impact on her.  The common Northern dialect spoken by Lucy and Betsy made Ronnie appear stupid at times, not fully understanding the instructions she was being given. Her own accent was mimicked and teased remorselessly, in the main by Lucy, especially the nervous stutter which Ronnie just could not seem to overcome.

During the first three weeks in service Ronnie was berated for her lack of skills but she was a quick learner and never complained once. This impressed Mrs Robinson as the new maid's enthusiasm for her work could not be doubted. Despite the unfamiliar physical hardship and the tormenting and teasing she received Ronnie settled into her routines anxious to prove herself to be a good maid and subtle changes in her character were already becoming evident. 

Miss Veronica Singleton was a confident young lady with perfect diction. Not only was Ronnie more understanding of the Northern tongue, whilst she spoke little, Ronnie was now shortening words, flattening vowels and even using slang words herself. Confident? Hardly. The rigours of maid’s work, offering deference to and being chastised by a mere maid, a cook and a head of household all unfamiliar, she had to accept and adapt  she was in their world and not her own. Ronnie, in stark contrast to Veronica, had become a little nervous and anxious, not wanting to make mistakes and please who she had come to accept to be her betters. The stutter had gone probably around the same time that Betsy had dyed her hair black for her. Ronnie thought that black hair suited her new position better than her natural strawberry blonde. 

Ronnie wasn’t unhappy; sure it was not a life of serving tea to a mistress on a silver tray in a pristine uniform, like she had coveted Jane’s perceived existence at Lowercroft. Tears had formed whilst scrubbing floors and steps, she had been made to feel small, useless and inadequate but rarely without just cause, but for all of this, through all of this, Lucy, Betsy and most importantly Mrs Robison had treated and accepted her to be a maid and nothing more.

When Mrs Shipley had visitors to Lowercroft, which was often, and Ronnie had been at work scrubbing and cleaning above stairs, she had been ignored completely, treated with total disdain by the visitors and the Mistress alike. The feelings that such callous treatment engendered within Ronnie of anonymity and worthlessness, who for most of her chosen rank would be met with returned veiled disdain, this unspoken and unconditional mocking of her status only served to fuel her perverse desires for a life of servitude, for the life of a maid.  Desires that had not been diminished following her introduction to the realities of being a maid but indeed reinforced them, something Veronica’s aunt could never have foreseen.

Miranda could not believe her ears listening to Mrs Robison reviewing the progress of Lowercroft’s new maid at the conclusion of one month’s trial period. This was a glowing report of her niece, a total contradiction of what Miranda had expected. Miranda had seen Ronnie at work about the hall and had flinched  in pity and disgust seeing her niece on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors but had chosen to ignore her hoping it would help dissuade her from her misguided enterprise. 

Mrs Robinson was keen to keep her ever willing new maid and give her a permanent contract, offer the poor girl the opportunity of indenture so she could be paid and have some security in her position. It would only be right, fair and normal. Mrs Robinson was not altruistic; finding such willing drones to serve unquestioningly was not easy. The head of household's real motivation was to keep the girl at Lowercroft Hall should she ever tries to leave.

Summoned to Mrs Shipley’s study Ronnie entered and curtsied to her Mistress then stood by the side of Mrs Robinson.

 “Mrs Robinson tells me you have been good at your work and wishes to keep you on at Lowercroft now that you probationary period is over. How do you feel about that girl?”

Ronnie bobbed curtsy.

“Thank y’r Mistress, most kind of ‘er Mrs Robinson. Sure be great that, won’t it. Ah like it ‘ere.”

Miranda stared at Mrs Robinson then back at Ronnie in disbelief having heard her niece speak not only surprised she would accept continuing being a maid, but her words, the way they were spoken in such an uncouth manner. Only a month and the soft spoken articulate Veronica was already sounding like a common maid! 

Ronnie’s conversations during the last month had been almost exclusively with Lucy and Betsy and she had unconsciously picked up on their way of speaking. Teased about her accent and the uncontrollable return of her stutter when she started at Lowercroft Ronnie was anxious to fit in and had not really noticed the change in her speech herself.

Miranda was fuming and wanted to berate her niece for her sloppy speech but how could she? This was just a maid and her head of household was present. Hiding her annoyance Miranda composed herself before speaking.

Miranda had hoped that a month wearing her drab shapeless uniform of service, restricted to the cramped maids quarters and fatigued by the rigours endured by a common maid would have been enough to convince her niece the error of her ways and that she would be desperate to call a halt to her folly. How wrong she had been!  Mrs Robison wanted to keep her new maid and her niece, to Miranda’s astonishment, wished to remain a maid. 

Under normal circumstances, with a maid having successfully completed a probationary period and with the head of household’s endorsement, by matter of course, would lead to the maid being offered an indenture. With various terms and conditions an indenture benefited both parties. The maid, commonly from humble origin and with no resource would be grateful to have guaranteed lodgings, meals and clothing plus an allowance. The trade off being the household offering the indenture, to obtain a return on its investment, would have exclusive use of the maid for a given period but often indefinitely. For a common maid to be indentured was a badge of honour proclaiming her worth, but for an heiress to a fortune moonlighting under the pretence of being a maid dangerous ground indeed! Surely, Veronica, being well educated, would understand the implications of indentured service, wouldn’t she?

It would be most irregular if Miranda did not offer an indenture and she could see that was on the mind of Mrs Robinson and under normal circumstances why wouldn’t it be? If Veronica was stupid enough to accept it then she would have to go along with it. Miranda considered the implications, of course all she would need to do at any time was sign the release clause and the maid would be free to leave. Her niece playing at being a maid, no matter how well she had convincingly performed, was one thing, but becoming an indentured maid? Her niece, her sister’s pretty little treasure an indentured maid in her household? The same wicked thoughts she had on her return journey from Latchwood following her humiliation at the hands of her obnoxious sister bled into her mind and a faint smile grew across her face.

Miranda took a breath.

“Indeed, girl. Well I am pleased you feel that way. You have obviously impressed Mrs Robinson with your work here at Lowercroft. You may go now whilst I speak with Mrs Robinson.”

Ronnie curtsied

“Thank y’r, Mistress.”

Miranda watched her niece leave the study and still confused why her niece wished to continue in such a demeaning role of a housemaid sat back at her desk waiting for the inevitable request from her head of household Mrs Robinson.

 Mrs Robinson took a seat opposite with a smile on her face.

“She's a good little worker, Mistress. Can I keep her, lock her into an indenture? She deserves it and of course so do we. Wouldn’t want that little miss mop wandering off, would we?”

What was driving the silly girl, how deep was her loathing of her privilege, her desire to humble and demean herself in such a way? Miranda was confident that no way would Veronica enter into an indenture when she realised the terms. She wasn’t that stupid, was she? But having just seen and heard her, maybe she was?

The thoughts of her sister having to grovel to obtain her precious daughters release from such a legally binding indenture crossed her mind again. Why shouldn’t she indulge her niece, a month’s trial is one thing but to be confronted by the realisation of being locked into the shackles of service permanently? Perhaps that’s the rude awakening she needs?

“Well, Rose, I leave the business of servants to you. Prepare the documents and see if the girl agrees to an indenture.”

Following a gruelling day in the wash house assisting Betsy with the laundry, Ronnie lay in her bunk under flickering candlelight reading the conditions of the indenture offered to her by Mrs Robinson. Most maids of her rank, semi-literate at best, would have little understanding of the indenture beyond the perceived security of employment it gave them. But Ronnie squirmed in her exquisite imaginings of her capitulation to such binding servitude detailed within the text.

Forgetting in those delectable moments it was her auntie’s household. By her own hand she would willingly accept, what was no less than her enslavement, becoming the property of a Mistress and her household. Ronnie was breathless, panting, quivering in excited anticipation of her renunciation of all she was, all she could be into a life of permanent anonymity and unconditional servility, the life of an indentured maid. Is this not what she had seen, envied and coveted in Jane and in her mother’s maids at Latchwood?

Squinting in the half-light Ronnie read and reread the terms and conditions of the indenture until she flopped back onto the hard pillow of her bunk in a state of emotional distress wishing her imaginings real.

Her auntie had allowed her to become a maid in her household and now the head of that household was offering her a permanent position with so many strings attached they would bind her so tight she could almost feel each loop being slowly wrapped around her, pulled tight and securely knotted in place by a smiling Mrs Robinson. 

It was all too much for Ronnie and letting the document slip from her grasp before blowing out her candle she pressed her face into the pillow seeking to deny her innermost feelings. Unfortunately for Veronica, they would not be suppressed and the lucid dreams that followed only served to fuel her desires, desires to seal her own fate and become an indentured maid to the household of Lowercroft Hall.  

With breakfast having been prepared and Lucy having taken the trays to serve her Mistress, Ronnie sat with Betsy in the kitchens grateful for the mug of strong streaming tea sat on the table in front of her.

“Nice cuppa Betsy, ta fer that.” 

Betsy smiled thinking back to the polite young maid who joined Lowercroft with her strange accent. How she had asked for a cup and saucer like the Mistress was served in when taking tea. Betsy didn’t think the new maid would last two minutes but how wrong she had been. Ronnie had never complained once no matter how hard the task. Even Lucy, who was even more sceptical, could not fault the new girl's work and enthusiasm.

“Y’er a funny 'un Ronnie. When y’ve drunk that yer can scrub out pans ‘n’wash down, then w’ill get pressin’ stuff dun fr’m yesterday's laundry."

Ronnie with both hands cupped around her mug, slurped on her tea then looked up.

“Yeh lot t’do t’day Betsy I’ put irons on when ‘have washed off.”

Ronnie was still fascinated how the board-like creases set from the starch in the aprons smoothed out to leave such a pristine smooth finish. Whilst the irons, even when chilling off, slid over the gassed cotton aprons quite effortlessly the woollen dresses were very different though requiring quite some muscle. With all the servants uniforms pressed and back in the closets and drawers Ronnie began pressing Mistresses clothing. The quality of the fabrics far superior and much different, twelve weeks now since Ronnie had worn such fine garments but it may well have been twelve years. These were Mistress's clothes, not for the likes of servants.

Miranda could not believe that her niece had signed the indenture but she had and that was now some months ago. The changes in the new maid at Lowercroft, which seemed to accelerate since accepting the indenture, had been fascinating and worrying in equal measure for Miranda. There was no pretence now in maid Ronnie, the way she spoke, her deportment, her meaningful deference. Her hair had not grown back in fact it was a little shorter and neater and of course now raven black, Ronnie having let Betsy keep it regularly trimmed. Ronnie had also filled out the quite baggy uniforms, the comforting extra added pounds obvious.  

Miranda’s pretty, petite, polite and well-spoken niece Veronica, in her four months of servitude at Lowercroft, had slowly but surely surrendered all she ever was, willingly giving herself over body and soul into the possession of the persona of Ronnie, a common housemaid, a true transformation from lady to maid. Fascinating yes but also worrying: autumn was fast approaching and with it the intended return of her niece Veronica to her sister’s home at Latchwood... 

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