In quiet we had learn’d to dwell;
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are:—even
Regain’d my freedom with a sigh.”
Deservedly, the audience’s applause was followed by a standing ovation. James insisted on waiting for the crowd to disperse before leading Gladys to meet the young actor. Surprised, Gladys noted that he looked nothing like the old man they had watched on the stage without his beard and long wig.
On their way home, James and Gladys talked about the poem.
“I think the last verse was the most poignant,” Gladys said.
“Yes, from a romantic point of view, but realistically, I don’t think one could live in such conditions without going mad.”
“Oh, you are wrong there,” Gladys blurted out.
“Now how would you know? I don’t imagine you have spent much time in a dungeon!” he said, laughing.
“No, but I have met people who have lived in the ghettos where life can be just as horrible, and yet, like the poem, there is always something they miss when they leave.”
Not wanting to continue on with the subject in fear of spoiling the evening, she added, “I cannot believe anyone could memorize all those lines, except Mr Dickens, of course. But it must be easier for him because he wrote the words himself.”
James laughed and answered, “Yes, young Sylvester did very well, and I am sure no one else in the audience noticed that he left out two lines.”
“He did?”
“I’m afraid so. He said ‘There are seven pillars of Gothic mould, in Chillon’s dungeons deep and old,’ then he left out the next two lines, ‘There are seven columns, massy and grey, dim with a dull imprison’d ray,’ but his presentation was so brilliant, I forgave him.”
“How on earth did you know those two lines were missing?”
“Well, you see, I happened to win an award at school for reciting the same poem. Of course, my recital was not as eloquent as young Sylvester’s, and most of the class fell asleep before I finished, but I won an award and was quite proud of it.”
“And so you should have been.”
During the first two years Gladys lived at Four Oaks, James had never invited guests to the house. In some respects, this was disappointing. She recalled the wonderful times she’d had when she was a guest at Sorenson Manor. However, now that her status was that of a servant, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to join the guests anyway. Still, she reasoned, it might be fun to oversee such an occasion. She also wondered why James hadn’t any friends, but was soon to find out.
James had had many business associates, but only one close friend other than his halfbrother, Keith. Sadly, that friend had died in London of a ruptured spleen the same year Keith was killed in India. Those two tragedies left him apprehensive about forming another close relationship until Percy Hudson, one of his corporate lawyers and the man who had told about him about the vacant flat in London, bought a flat in Sandwich.
Not long after moving into the small apartment he had purchased, Percy joined James’s cricket team and club. The two men soon realized that they had a lot more in common than just the business. Both were well educated, spoke softly but precisely, were fastidious in their dress and their being, enjoyed playing cricket, and were avid readers.
James hadn’t mentioned to Gladys that he had made a friend, so it came as a surprise to her and all the staff when he informed Freda that he had invited a guest for dinner the following evening. Jenkins, Freda, and Gladys spent the rest of that day guessing whether the guest would be a lady or a gentleman.
Just in case it happened to be a lady, Jenkins set the table with the finest china and cutlery, and Gladys made a beautiful arrangement of flowers for the centrepiece. Freda outdid herself, preparing a variety of meat and vegetable dishes along with a blackberry pie.
All were waiting anxiously for the mystery guest to arrive the next evening, and Jenkins, after one quick glance at the table to make sure he had it set just right, stationed himself by the door.
When Percy arrived, Jenkins took his overcoat and hat and showed him into the study where James was waiting to greet him. After pouring them both a drink, Jenkins hurried to the kitchen to report that the guest was a well-dressed gentleman who appeared to be in his mid-thirties.
After they had finished their dinner, Percy asked James to convey his compliments to the cook, since he had never eaten a more satisfying meal.
“You may tell her yourself,” James responded. “Ask Freda to join us, Jenkins,” he instructed.
Jenkins was just about to leave when James said to send Gladys in as well.
Freda blushed when Percy took her hand and kissed it before he complimented her.
Gladys felt awkward and embarrassed as she stood and waited to be introduced, but her discomfort didn’t show. As soon as Percy saw her, he could see that James had not exaggerated when he said how pretty she was. Although she was dressed plainly, she didn’t resemble any housekeepers he had ever seen. He also thought she had a lovely, warm smile, and it only took a few seconds to decide he liked her.
“James has told me about the difference you have made to his home, and by the look of this room, I should say he is a most fortunate man indeed. He also told me how beautifully you play and sing. Perhaps you will be so kind as to grace us with a tune before I take my leave?” he asked.
“I would be pleased to do so,” Gladys said.
The two men retired to the library to talk about books and enjoy a sherry.
The rest of the staff was in the kitchen waiting for Freda and Gladys to tell them about the first guest any of them, except for Jenkins and Freda, had ever seen at Four Oaks.
Freda was the first to give her opinion, “He knows how to spread the honey, that one. But I can’t say I minded! What do you think, missus?”
“Well, it is a bit soon to tell, but he does seem very nice. He is very good-looking and has nice thick hair and neatly trimmed mutton chops. I am not usually fond of mutton chops, but they suit his face. He also has a nice build, and, I would guess by the look of his clothes, he is a man of means.”
Jenkins walked in and overheard her, and added, “I think you are right, Mrs Pickwick; he was wearing an expensive silk top hat and a fine, double-caped wool coat when he arrived. The coat is lined with red satin, and I must say that I would fancy a pair of boots like the ones he is wearing. They look to be made of the softest leather I have ever seen.”
“What else was he wearin’, missus?” said little Inis, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Well, he had on a fine linen shirt with ruffles at the neck, and sleeves with ruffled cuffs, and a beautifully embroidered silk vest under his tailcoat.”
“Well, missus, if you’re goin’ to play and sing for such a dandy, you’d best get yourself up them stairs and put on a fancier frock,” Freda said and gave Gladys a shove in the right direction.
Dolly followed her mother up the stairs, then sat on her bed and watched as she got dressed. “May I come and hear you play, Mother?”
“Not this time, darling, but perhaps if he comes again I shall ask James if you can join us.”
Gladys had already begun to play when James and Percy came into the parlour. The difference in her appearance didn’t go unnoticed. Percy leaned over and whispered in James’s ear, “She is beautiful!”
Gladys sang a few solos before insisting they join her in singing the lively song, “Coming through the Rye.” James had a pleasing tenor voice, but Percy couldn’t keep a tune. Fortunately, he didn’t realize it and sang with such enthusiasm, it added a pleasant essence to all the songs they sang during the remainder of the evening.
As he was leaving, Percy expressed how much he had enjoyed the evening with the hopes of being invited back. James had also enjoyed Per
cy’s company and from that time on, Percy became a frequent guest.
Gladys was delighted that they often invited her to join them. Some evenings, Dolly got her wish and was also allowed to join in with the singing for an hour before her bedtime.
As time went by, James was tempted to ask Gladys to join him and Percy at the dinner table, but he knew such an arrangement would be inappropriate. Nonetheless, she was invited to ride with them whenever she had the time, and before long, they became such good friends that Gladys couldn’t help but compare their threesome to the one she had shared with Tom and Keith. As flattering as the thought was, she hoped it didn’t end in having two men fighting over her affections again.
Chapter Eight
The news that a handsome, middle-aged bachelor had moved into town soon spread, and Percy began receiving invitations from lonesome widows and hopeful spinsters. Since he enjoyed being a bachelor, he complained to James, who assured him that in due time, the invitations would subside, especially if he persistently declined. He also added that he had suffered with the same problem shortly after his wife passed away. His constant refusals soon convinced the ladies that he was determined to be faithful to his wife even after her demise, and from then on, he was looked upon with admiration and respect.
In fact, some of the ladies, especially the spinsters, romanticized over his reclusiveness, and he was often the topic of conversation whenever they were in the mood to share their most intimate thoughts. Some even boasted of having affairs with him in their dreams. They would have been disappointed had they known that James had always been a recluse and his aloofness toward them had nothing to do with a broken heart.
Percy took James’s advice and, before long, the invitations became fewer and fewer, until they finally ceased. Although he was happy to be free of being toadied to by doting parents with hopes of acquiring a son-in-law, Percy had an outgoing nature and made friends easily. Two of his newfound friends were Bob and Tina Rudyard, who enjoyed card games. Because most of the games they enjoyed required four players, Tina often invited her widowed sister, Mary Baker, as a partner for Percy.
Mary, an intelligent woman in her late thirties, was tall and had the poise of a true aristocrat. She wore her ebony hair pulled back and fastened in a chignon instead of ringlets—a style too severe to suit most women, but, on her, it added elegance. She had flawless pale skin. In stark contrast, her red lips and striking black eyes were like magnets that drew the attention and admiration of both sexes.
The four often played whist or euchre, and, although Percy enjoyed the games, he still preferred to spend his evenings in the company of James and Gladys.
One day, he asked James if he could bring his three friends for a sing-along some evening. James would have refused, but, not wanting to jeopardize his friendship with Percy, he agreed. Unfortunately, he forgot to tell Gladys, and the evening the guests were expected, she had decided to take a stroll after dinner and didn’t return until an hour after they had arrived. Freda was waiting for her when she came in the back door. “Oh, missus, he hasn’t half tried to find you.”
“Who, Freda?”
“Sir! He’s been in my kitchen three times askin’ for you.”
“Well, I am here now. Where is he?”
“He’s in the parlour, missus, and there’s others there too.”
“Others?” Gladys was beginning to be alarmed until Freda put her mind at ease.
“They’re friends of Mr Percy’s, missus.”
Before Gladys could ask any more questions, James appeared, “Well it is about time you showed up,” he said accusingly.
When Gladys tried to explain where she had been, he took hold of her arm and started leading her to the parlour.
“Can I at least take off my coat?” she asked as she pulled away from his grasp.
“Your coat? Oh yes, your coat. Yes, yes, take off your coat and your bonnet too, but do hurry. We have been waiting for you for an hour.” Gladys hung her things on a clotheshorse before allowing him to usher her into the room.
“Ah, here is our girl now!” Percy announced as he jumped up from his chair. He then introduced her to the three guests without mentioning she was James’s housekeeper, which did little to ease her discomfort due to the inequality between her attire and that of the other two women.
When James asked her to play and lead them in a sing-along, she felt obliged to comply, although she felt the request unfair.
They all joined her around the piano. After a few songs, she began to enjoy herself. They laughed and sang for almost two hours before Freda brought in a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits. As the rest sat down to their refreshments, Gladys slipped out the door and was on her way to her apartment when Percy ran after her and caught her by the hand.
“And just where do you think you are going?” he demanded. Gladys said she was going to retire, but he would have none of it and practically pushed her back into the parlour. “Now you seat yourself down here and drink your chocolate,” he insisted as he sat her in a chair beside Mary.
Mary smiled at Gladys and said, “Yes, Gladys, you deserve this more than the rest of us.” Gladys was impressed with Mary’s appearance and felt dowdy in comparison. Although all three guests were exceedingly polite and offered flattering remarks about her musical talents, she was certain they were just being condescending.
After the guests had left, Gladys was obviously annoyed as she confronted James and said, “Sir, I realize I am a servant here, but I do not recall being informed that playing the piano would be one of my duties.”
James was taken aback. This was a different side to Gladys than he had ever seen, and he felt both chastised and annoyed. His answer was as curt as her statement. “Yes, Mrs Pickwick, you are correct. I am sorry if I have infringed on your time and you may be assured it shall not happen again.” Head high, he turned to leave, but Gladys grabbed his arm.
“Wait, sir, I have not finished what I wanted to say.”
“Very well, say it and be done!”
“I only want to have a little notice if you wish me to entertain, sir. You see, I may be a servant, but I am also a woman. And, as a woman, I should like to have the chance to dress accordingly for special occasions. From now on, sir, if you would be kind enough to let me know when you are expecting guests and when you wish me to play the piano, I shall be pleased to do so.”
Relieved, James laughed and said, “Forgive me, Gladys. I can see how thoughtless that was of me. It shan’t happen again. And, Gladys, thank you for playing tonight. It was brilliant.”
One day, James announced that his Aunt Jean, his father’s youngest sister and James’s only living aunt, was coming for a visit. He asked Gladys to see that one of the guest rooms would be ready for her. He also warned Gladys not to expect his aunt to be an agreeable visitor, adding that even though the woman was in her eighties, she could be quite formidable whenever things didn’t meet her approval.
Gladys assured him that she and the rest of the staff would be on their best behaviour. She was looking forward to having a guest in the house until she told Freda.
Freda, who had met the woman before, moaned, then she exclaimed, “Oh, no!”
The day of Aunt Jean’s arrival, Gladys had everything ready. Freda had spent the morning baking fresh bread, pies, and cakes. The tantalizing scents still lingered in the air, but the old lady didn’t seem to notice, or, if she did, she never acknowledged it.
As soon as James brought her into the parlour, and before she took off her coat, she began her inspection. James stood silently by, waiting to hear her approval. Finally, after running a gloved finger over most of the furniture and not finding any dust, she demanded, “What happened to that old housekeeper of yours?”
“The poor old soul fell and broke her hip.”
“Good!”
“Really, Aunt Jean!”
�
��I suppose that did sound a bit harsh, but if the old girl hadn’t broken a hip, I think you would have had to call in an exterminator by now. The place was in such a state that I was thinking of finding lodging at the nearest inn. Your new housekeeper is obviously far more efficient at her job.”
“Yes, she is, extremely so. I shall send for her, Auntie. I am sure she shall want to meet you and help you get settled in your room.” After noticing the improvement in the cleanliness of the parlour, Jean envisioned the person responsible to have a stalwart build and a countenance that portrayed authority. Therefore, when Gladys entered smiling amiably and James introduced her as the housekeeper, Jean was shocked.
Gladys was about to reach out her hand, but something told her to wait and see if Jean offered hers first. When she didn’t, Gladys said, “I am pleased to meet you, mum. I have your room ready. Perhaps you would like me to help you get settled now and bring you some tea. You must be ready for some refreshments after your journey. Or would you prefer to have it down here in the parlour?”
“I prefer to go up now, if you don’t mind,” Jean answered, then she wondered why on earth she had added the “if you don’t mind.” The girl was a mere servant, even if she didn’t look like one.
Once they were in the guest room, Gladys rang for two of the girls, having left instructions that if the guest room bell rang they were to bring up a jug of hot water and a tray with tea and biscuits.
As she waited to take the aunt’s coat and bonnet, Gladys had time to study the woman, who was busy assessing her accommodation. She was a petite lady but made use of what height she had by standing tall. She might have had nice facial features if she had a more pleasant personality. The suit she wore was clean but outdated and a little threadbare. She wore no jewellery, and her boots, although well-polished, were far from new. The longer Gladys studied her, the more she began to think the woman might feel more miserable than cranky and was surprised at the empathy she felt toward her. Then, when Jean finally took off her bonnet and handed it to Gladys to hang up, Gladys understood why.
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