Chapter 12
What Was in the Closet?
rs. Williams gave the dough a few more slaps and pushes for good measure, and set it into a huge blue-rimmed bowl to rise. She sighed and wiped her floury hands and forearms on her apron.
Nelly, who was pouring a cup of tea from the huge pot on the table, echoed the sigh. “Have a cup, Missis?” She handed it to Mrs. Williams, who took it and sat at the large wooden table.
“That’s the bread done.” The cook had a long swallow of tea. “I’ll just put out elevenses, and I’ve got to dress those ducks, order the veg for next week, and make some pudding for the Upstairs.”
“Isn’t it a saint’s own list I have meself?” Nelly poured a cup for herself. She eyed the cook, but Mrs. Williams was not looking at her. She seemed to be intent on some inner thoughts of her own, narrowing her eyes in reflection. Greatly daring, Nelly lowered herself onto a chair and took a long slurp of tea.
“I’ve done me beds, and me fireplaces, but I still have the smalls to collect and send to the washing. And those children are that hard on their smalls, Mrs. Williams, I’ll have you know. And the mistress wants me to sort out the cupboards in the rooms – which rooms she didn’t say.”
“Mmm,” Mrs. Williams said, not really heeding.
“And she says that I’m to rearrange but not move any of the contents. How am I to manage it, would you please inform me of that, Mrs. Williams? Rearrange, but not move! Did you ever!” Nelly snorted. “Thank goodness, Miss Miriam is off with her governess, and the young fellas are nowhere to be found.”
She drank another long gulp of hot tea. It was nice in the kitchen, she thought, at least when Mrs. Williams didn’t rant and roar. The sun streamed in through the window, and the clock on top of the dresser ticked loudly.
A loud rap on the window startled the two women, and Nelly gave a faint shriek. “Lord bless us and save us!” She spilled half her tea into her saucer.
Outside the window, a gap-toothed face grinned in at them. It was George, who was outside doing the stable and helping the gardeners.
Mrs. Williams opened the window and roared at him, “Don’t you know how to use a door?”
George propped his arms on the window ledge. “Aye, but I couldn’t help seeing the beauty of you two fine ladies through the glass.” He winked at Nelly.
“Away with you,” she replied, secretly delighted.
“Just a quick cuppa.” His smile broadened. “Come on, missus, pity the poor afflicted.”
“Afflicted is right,” Mrs. Williams grumbled, but she heaved her large form to its feet and put a currant bun on a plate. “Here, take that and get on with your work, young George. And you, Nelly, I’m sure you have many better things to be doing than dreaming at the kitchen table.”
“Like waiting hand and foot on Old Walking Stick?” George said.
“Old who?” Mrs. Williams poured out another cup and handed it to him through the window. “Drink up quickly, now, and give me back my cup.”
“Old Walking Stick,” George repeated, through a mouthful of bun. “So-called because he looks like he swallowed a walking stick and it be coming out the other end.”
Mrs. Williams flung her dishtowel at him, and Nelly gave a shriek. “You, bold, dirty, filthy article!” she squealed.
“That’s enough. I’ve had it with the two of you. Give me your cups, and go and do some work for a change. Yes, you, too, Nelly. I have the supper to get ready.” Mrs. Williams snatched the cup and the plate back from George as he crammed the last of the bun into his mouth, crossed his eyes, and walked away.
Nelly giggled again and scurried upstairs.
Armed with a duster, she began with Miriam’s new room. She opened the drawers and noted with approval that the contents were folded with mathematical neatness. Nelly closed the drawers, and went to the small cupboard.
Miriam’s clothes, all spotlessly clean and ironed, hung from hooks in a neat row. Well! Nelly thought. That governess may look like a heathen, but she keeps Miss Miriam’s things tidier than many would in her place.
She went to close the door, but the large chest caught her eye. She frowned for a moment. She was fairly certain that the new missus wanted her to perform a search.
She glanced at the doorway. No, there was no one else there. Should she leave the room and respect the girl’s privacy? She remembered Miss Miriam pulling faces at her on the stairs, among numerous other insults she had received over the years from the child. Besides, she was curious to see what was kept in there.
She went and closed the door firmly, turned the key, and opened the lid of the chest. What in the name of God was that? Nelly reached into the chest and pulled out the Crown Phoenix machine. The heavy device made her stagger, but her curiosity got the better of her.
The light was better by the window. Nelly brought it to the broad windowsill. She brushed her hands over the keys. She pushed one key down with her finger. It seemed to make the thing come alive. There was a hum and a whirr from within.
Nelly shrieked and nearly dropped the typing ball. Her hands shook as she lifted it from the sill and carried it back to the chest. The thing still whirred, and she pushed several other keys to try and get it to stop. “Oh Lord!” she sobbed to herself. “If they find out that I lifted that yolk I’ll lose my position and no bones about it!”
After a few more tries she closed the lid of the chest on the thing. Perhaps, if she left the room now and did her other tasks, someone else would get the blame. Maybe Miriam would be punished for it, but the girl didn’t have a widowed mother and eight brothers and sisters depending on her paypacket.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she closeted the ball and left the room. What sort of infernal device was it? Nelly didn’t know, but she vowed never to touch it again.
Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express Page 12