Ashes

by Ann Hunter

  Rebecca squared her shoulders and went back inside. Heavy shoes clomped on the floor above. She made her way upstairs to see Cassandra and Brunhilda tearing her dresser apart. Rebecca pressed herself against the wall as one of her petticoats was flung across the room.

  “Rags. Moth balls. Rags.” Cassandra grunted.

  Brunhilda was busy ambushing Rebecca’s pillow. “Are these chicken feathers?”

  Rebecca sidled by them toward her mother’s room where an equal amount of noise was being made. Hesperia stood in the center of the room directing footmen about. “Take down those hideous curtains. Move the night stand over there, the bureau here. That goes over there.”

  Rebecca stood with her eyes wide and mouth ajar. Everything that reminded her of Lilly in this room was being stripped away. Rebecca’s voice had never felt weaker. “Stop.”

  “And that bed smells as though something died in it. Bring up my spare from the old guest room back home.”

  Rebecca clenched her fists. “Stop.”

  Hesperia did not seem to hear her, nor did the servants. “Now that… that has to go.”

  “That was my mother’s!” Rebecca cried.

  Hesperia rounded. “Servants sleeping in the house? Well. I knew Lord Tremaine was an eccentric man, but even that is a bit much.”

  “Lady Lilly Tremaine was not—”

  Hesperia clasped her hands and looked at Rebecca placidly.

  Cassandra and Brunhilda stumbled in holding up Rebecca’s clothes against themselves. “Mother look at how quaint these rags are. Are not they adorable? So countryish. Do we own pigs? I should like to dress a pig in one and call it Countess Tremaine,” said Brunhilda.

  Rebecca grabbed her clothes from them, yanking them away. “Those are mine!”

  “Why would a servant’s clothes be in the main quarters?” Cassandra asked.

  Rebecca’s chest heaved. “I live here. Didn’t Robert tell you? I’m—”

  “Sleeping in the servant’s quarters across the yard from now on,” Hesperia murmured, waving toward the forge. “You may go now.”

  “But—” Rebecca objected as footmen pushed her toward the door.

  The corner of Hesperia’s mouth turned upward ever so slightly. “You are excused.”

  Brunhilda turned to her mother and smiled excitedly. “Oh, Mother, let us give her a name.”

  “I have a name,” Rebecca growled. She struggled against the footmen until they gave up and merely kept her at bay near the landing at the top of the stairs.

  “Can we give her a name? We always gave new servants names back home.”

  Hesperia kept her eyes on Rebecca, her mouth turned in that dark smile. “You may.”

  Brunhilda looked at Rebecca giddily. “Let us call her Ella. Doesn’t she look like an Ella?”

  Cassandra stepped in front of her sister with the same smile as her mother. “No. Cinders. She’s so dirty. Can’t you see? Dirty, dirty, dirty. Like the cinders in the hearth.”

  Hesperia raised her hand to shush them. “Her name shall be Girl. There will be no confusion that way.” She crossed to Rebecca slowly, and placed the tip of her finger underneath Rebecca’s chin to raise it gently. Rebecca locked eyes with her. “When I say ‘Come, Girl.’ You will come. When I tell you ‘Girl, go and fetch me this’ or ‘Girl, go and fetch me that’ you will fetch it. When you are told to do anything, Girl, you will do it without question or regard to yourself. Do I make myself clear?”

  Rebecca’s nostrils expanded and contracted with her racing breath. She wanted to spit in Hesperia’s eye. To drive her heel through the woman’s toes. Lilly had raised a better girl, though. Lilly had raised a lady. A lady knew when to leave.

  Rebecca backed down the stairs, never breaking eye contact with Hesperia until she reached the door. The girls gathered beside their mother, clasping their hands just like her with their pursed lips, sharp noses, and judging eyes.

  “That girl is a wild one,” Hesperia said just loud enough for Rebecca to hear her. “But do not worry, my pets, we will break her like the unruly filly that she is.”

  Rebecca stormed toward her father’s forge with a fire in her chest and face. She thought if she had surly veins in her neck or the little vein in her brow like her father, they would surely bulge and pulse.

  Rebecca threw her clothes on her father’s work table. She paced hotly, running her hands through her hair, shaking from head to toe. When she had calmed enough to hear herself think, she started the fire in the forge. Though it was summer, the nights were still cool. She would need to keep warm.

  A short while later, the footmen carried in her mattress and bed linens and threw them in the corner of the workshop. Rebecca ran over to kick them hard. Then she fell on to it with tears sliding down her cheeks. What a fool she had been!

  She leaned against the wall close to the forge fire listening to the pop and hiss of the coals. She shut her eyes and was violated once more by the sight of the men tearing her mother’s room apart with Hesperia in the center of it, erasing the very memory of Lady Lilly Tremaine. And the names they had tried to give to her…

  Rebecca dropped her hands to her sides. One of them landed in a soft downy pile next to the forge. Rebecca coughed as a cloud of ash flew up. She looked at it. Cinder. Dirty.

  Her hand dove into the pile and covered herself in ash, and without a second thought grabbed a burning poker from the forge. She bit hard into her dress as she carved five burning letters into her wrist.

  Lilly.

  VII

  “Get up.”

  Rebecca jolted to the hard thump of a foot in the side of her mattress. She rolled onto her back. Hesperia towered over her. The morning sun trickled in between wood slats in the workshop walls. Rebecca moved to rub her eyes but grabbed her wrist and winced. What happened yesterday roared back to her. She must have fainted after writing her mother’s name on her wrist.

  “A woman by the name of Mrs. Diggory came by with a chicken last night, which we were forced to cook. Tell me, Girl, have you been here the whole time?”

  Rebecca winced up at her. “Yes.”

  Hesperia rolled her eyes haughtily. “Unruly and lazy. What will I do with you, Girl?” She regarded Rebecca momentarily and sneered. “And filthy as well.”

  Rebecca touched her cheek to feel the ash dust she had covered her self in.

  Hesperia bent to grab her wrist and yanked her to her feet. Rebecca bit back a yelp as the woman wrenched her aching burn. “Too long have you managed alone. It is high time you learn how to be a proper maid.”

  Hesperia dragged her from the workshop and out into the yard. One of the footmen crouched near the hens making ridiculous noises at them. His hands were tucked under his armpits and he flapped his elbows, then proceeded to talk to them.

  “You,” Hesperia commanded his attention.

  The footman stood straight up and looked at her.

  “Draw this girl a bath.” Hesperia looked at Rebecca from the corner of her eye. “I do not believe she has had one in the whole of her life.”

  The footman clicked his heels together and saluted Hesperia.

  He drew the bath in a clean metal tub barely fit for a horse to drink from; standing with his back turned and towel ready a few feet off. Hesperia observed with her hands clasped behind her back as she paced back and forth. “Lesson number one.” She gazed at Rebecca. “You will henceforth and forever more refer to me as Mum or M’Lady.”

  Rebecca scrubbed her shin and muttered under her breath, “More like Malady.”

  Hesperia’s thin mouth tightened. “Lesson two. You will not speak unless spoken to. When you are issued a command, you will look us in the eye and confirm you have received it.”

  Rebecca locked eyes with her. “Yes, Malady,” she smirked.

  Hesperia glared at her. “Three. You shall be a ghost in this house. You will give room to any of your betters that you meet in any room, hall, or doorway. You are expected with the tea tray shortly after dawn a
nd are to be gone from under my roof by half past ten in the evening. Anything found broken, damaged, or stolen will warrant you the deepest and most severe of punishments. Confirm you have received this instruction.”

  Rebecca leaned back to scrub her feet. “Yes, Malady.”

  Hesperia squinted. All of a sudden she lunged at Rebecca, stealing the sponge away. “You are not scrubbing hard enough.”

  Rebecca slipped under the water, knocking the back of her head against the tub as Hesperia grabbed her other ankle and ground the sponge into it.

  Rebecca came to a moment later, taking in a mouth full of water. She tried to pull herself up, sputtering and choking, but Hesperia took firm hold of her leg to scrub it until it turned pink.

  Rebecca floundered. Her throat burned with trapped air. She struggled against Hesperia’s hold. When the woman tried to take Rebecca’s other foot, she swung her leg hard and landed the ball of her foot squarely in Hesperia’s stomach.

  Rebecca coughed up water as Hesperia staggered backwards. Hesperia charged the tub and knocked it over, spilling Rebecca out onto the ground along with the tepid water. Rebecca coughed again from air being knocked out of her lungs as she had bumped hard against the edge of the metal tub. She lay on the ground, vulnerable and exposed.

  Hesperia yanked the towel from the footman and hurled it at Rebecca. “Lesson four. Respect is given to us at all times. Now dress yourself. Full dress. None of this petticoat and apron business. You will look like a lady. You will behave as a lady. And by the grace I grant you, will become a lady. Now say Yes, M’Lady.”

  Rebecca rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows and launched a wad of spit at Hesperia. She wiped her mouth. “Yes, Malady.”

  Hesperia turned a shade of red Rebecca had not seen before. She leaned back to raise a foot and swing her leg toward Rebecca but stopped as Rebecca glared back at her. “Do it. I dare you. You know who I really am, don’t you?”

  Hesperia returned her weight to both feet. She sucked in a breath and clasped her hands in front of her, pressing her fingertips together. “Yes. Girl.”

  Rebecca curled close to the fire in the forge that night. Her mattress was still wet and freezing from having bath water leak into it. Hesperia had worked her hard that day. Rebecca had become accustomed to working, but Hesperia managed to find little insignificant jobs that made one’s finger tips ache, knuckles cramp, and eyes twitch.

  Every muscle in Rebecca’s body was tense and hurting. It was all made worse by being forced to work in full clothing. Hesperia did not allow a single soul within the house to be in any form of undress. Rebecca was sure that were there rodents about, Hesperia would have them dressed as well before being killed.

  Rebecca lay on her side reading her mother’s diary. She had read it over and over across the years. Often it made her angrier and more frustrated. None of it made sense. All of it only raised more questions. Yet she continued pulling it out every now and again and reading. Mentions of a great machine being manufactured inside the factory quarters of The Corporation coming to destroy the clock people, and of horrific accidents, and unexplained sickness. Rebecca still could not piece together how so much ash filled her mother’s lungs when she worked inside a building all day and all of the pollution was outside. More and more questions plagued her.

  ~*~

  Rebecca’s feet ached from the arduous walk from The Hamlet to The City. She pulled the parchment from her apron and reviewed it. Some of the items Rebecca had not even heard of. The things Hesperia and her daughters required seemed ridiculous, useless, and unnecessary. They spent too much money on things that did not really matter. Khronos, they spent too much money, period!

  Rebecca had a difficult time keeping up on the books with how those women spent. Robert had been good about sending a sum of money once a month to the estate, and Rebecca had saved up a small fortune to restore their good name. Hesperia, Cassandra, and Brunhilda had greedily, and unknowingly, sacked the entire sum and then some.

  Rebecca was not entirely sure if they mistakenly thought the apple orchard was really a money orchard. The money tree was being picked clean, and it worried her. Had Robert known what he was getting into when he married this family? Did he realize the quality of life they were accustomed to? And now they were forced into this cottage in the country side. Rich city folk in country quarters. It did not bode well.

  Rebecca sighed as she entered a ladies shop. She coughed and sputtered and waved her hand in front of her nose. The air was thick and heavier than outside, but it was with too much perfume instead of ash. Could ever escape choking in this wretched city?

  Furthermore everything was pink in the shop. Pink and white striped walls. Pink plumes on wide hats. Pink bodices and gowns. It made Rebecca’s head hurt.

  A fat woman waltzed to the counter and asked if she could be of assistance. Rebecca shoved the list at her. The woman looked it over and smiled pleasantly, assuring she could fill most of it. Rebecca told her where to send it and the woman directed Rebecca to another shop a few doors down for the rest of the things. Rebecca thanked her and stuffed the paper back into her apron.

  She was glad to be out of the shop, even if the air outside was terrible. Ash fell softly like winter snow, collecting at every corner of every street, against shops and houses, and lantern poles.

  Though the streets were still, Rebecca had the sense that she was being followed. She glanced a shadow over her shoulder dashing down an alley way. She ignored it at first, but after several shops she could ignore it no longer. She tried to follow but lost track.

  She stood at a cross section of shops and houses realizing she was lost. All there was was ash, and darkness, and stillness. Rebecca gasped as a hand covered her mouth and waist, dragging her back into a dark alley. She kicked and swung her arms and tried to scream but it was all muffled.

  She was thrown against a corner of brick wall and housing and sank to the ground. A hooded figure stooped before her, another hooded figure walked up behind them.

  “You ask too many questions,” said a young woman.

  Rebecca’s eyes looked wildly between them. “I’m sorry, I did not know. I—“

  The figure before her put a finger to Rebecca’s lips. The other stepped closer.

  Rebecca grabbed a fist full of ash, ready to fling it into their faces and escape when the woman grabbed her wrist and helped her to her feet. “Come with us.”

  Rebecca rubbed her wrist sorely, glancing at the ashen handprint left behind by the woman. The two figures hopped up on barrels, one behind the other, and began scaling the wall. Rebecca stared up at them, unsure if she could follow.

  One of them looked down at her from the rooftop and motioned to her. “Come on. You can do it. Unless you are scared.” A male’s voice this time.

  Lord Robert Tremaine’s words about being a frightened, frozen cog came rushing back to Rebecca. “A stuck cog or gear is a cog or gear that must be removed and replaced.”

  The last thing Rebecca wanted was to be removed from The Great Wheel by these two hoodlums. She squared her shoulders and hiked up her gown, climbing up onto the barrel and attempting to follow the same path they did.

  One foot on the barrel. Another in a niche in the wall. She could almost reach that windowsill and pull her self up. A water spout served as the next step. Only once did she slip. She caught herself quickly, fingers trembling. Finally she reached the top and pulled her self up.

  The cloaked figures dashed off again, jumping from roof top to roof top, chimney to chimney, as though it were nothing more than stones in a stream. Rebecca panted and stumbled, feeling as though she could never keep up. “Where are we going?”

  They did not answer, only waved to keep going and to keep quiet.

  Drumlights searched the sky ahead and the surge of music throbbed from The Corporation. The cloaked figures drew closer to it. On a roof up ahead, a third figure overlooked The Corporation from a safe distance. They crossed another rooftop and the t
wo figures slowed.

  Rebecca caught her breath and sighed in relief that they had finally slowed down. By now she felt fairly certain that they did not mean to harm her, but she had not completely ruled out being thrown off a roof yet if she did not comply with their wishes.

  They strolled up to the third figure who was broad shouldered and shrouded in a wool cloak of hunter green. They crouched down together and one of them, the woman Rebecca thought, grabbed Rebecca’s head to shove her down too. The one in green asked her to come closer. He pointed toward the The Corporation.

  “Look and see.”

  Rebecca looked at the monstrous emerald palace and factory, at the swarm of people all pressing in the court yard, jiving to the music. A red velvet carpet led up to the door. In a black polished steam car stepped a tall young man with slickly combed black hair and a ridiculous purple plush suit.

  “What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?” Rebecca asked.

  “Doesn’t it sicken you? The whole spectacle. This city of death is alive, but only to those who can afford to be. That party down there is for the prince himself. That bloke there in the purple. His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation. Do you see him?”

  Rebecca nodded.

  The green cloaked man rose and took a few steps back. The other two were off a few feet away chuckling together. He took Rebecca’s hand and guided her to the middle of the roof. “My name is Quarren. Those two over there are Pyp and Arrow.”

  At the sound of her name, Pyp straightened and slid back her black hood to reveal dark purple hair which was cropped close to her head, as a boy would. Rebecca gasped as she’d never seen such a thing.

  Pyp crossed to her and offered her hand and a smile. Rebecca accepted and leaned around her. Arrow was still crouched near the edge of the building, snorting. “Why do you call him Arrow?”