An Untimely Death

by Blythe Baker

  Her name was Selina King and she was my only friend.

  She turned, seeing me hovering near the end of the hall. Her green eyes brightened.

  “What a sight you are,” she said. “What are you doing all the way down here?”

  “Mrs. Montford sent me,” I said simply. “She said that Mrs. Rose may need help.”

  “That she does,” she said, planting one free hand on her hip. “You would not believe the morning we have had.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, worry following down the same pathways that it often did.

  “There was a fire in the kitchens,” Selina said, shaking her head. “Come along, I must fetch some polish and do my best to buff the ash from this tray. It is meant for the pastries at the party.”

  I eyed the oversized tray in her hand, noticing the dark cloudiness caked on one side. I looked back up at her. “What in the world happened?”

  “I am certain Mrs. Rose will not need your help more than I,” Selina said, nodding her head in the direction I had come from.

  Without arguing, I fell into step beside her, and together we started back down the hall.

  “It has been utter chaos,” she said in a low voice as we swept around the corner. “Margaret came into my room first thing this morning, yowling like a cat about the linens, the linens!”

  She shook her head as we stopped at a door, which she allowed me to push open for her.

  “I assured her the linens had been pressed the day before and laid out. She then screeched at me that the linens had gone missing, that no one could find them, that they had been moved.”

  The room beyond was nothing more than a storage closet stocked with many cleaning supplies—mops, buckets, and what we were after…jars of polish.

  She snatched one off the shelf, and I grabbed an old, ragged cloth from inside one of the mop buckets on the floor. Setting the silver tray on an empty space on the shelf, she uncorked the jar, dipped the cloth I handed her within and began to scrub furiously at the silver.

  “It turns out the linens had indeed been moved, to a table outdoors, in fact. And, as you know, it rained last night.”

  I nodded, watching as she struggled to get a portion of the soot from the silver, which seemed determined to stick.

  “Naturally, the linens I had spent hours freeing from wrinkles became cold, damp, and not at all suitable for Mrs. Montford’s vision for her husband’s birthday,” Selina said, pausing to catch her breath, shaking out her wrist.

  “Allow me,” I said, reaching for the cloth. She did not hesitate to pass it to me.

  I laid my hands against the silver, running my fingers over the ash, leaving a streak of gleaming metal behind. I took the cloth to the silver and began to scrub it off as Selina had.

  “When I went to look for extra linens, though knowing the ones we would need to use would be the inferior set that Mrs. Montford uses for her Wednesday ladies’ tea, Mrs. Carlisle sent me to Mrs. Rose. When I entered the kitchens, it was packed to the rafters with other servants who had all been backed up there trying to ready their stations. The clustering of people and the volume in the room caused Mr. Perry to explode with rage, knocking over a bowl of lard across the stove, creating flames which quickly grew out of control. By the time they could be put out, the damage had been done.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” I asked, nearly forgetting the polishing.

  “No, thankfully,” Selina said. “But it set Mrs. Rose back a great deal and it utterly ruined the roast she had been cooking since last night.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said.

  “It seems as if there are forces working against us today,” Selina said. “The party begins in three hours and hardly anything is ready. I cannot imagine that Mrs. Montford will be happy when she learns of what occurred.” She grinned at me. “Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that she sent you down to the kitchens and I was able to intercept you.”

  I swallowed, the knot in my stomach reminding me of its constant presence.

  “What’s the matter?” Selina asked. “You have that look on your face.”

  “What look?” I asked, examining the silver, deliberately not meeting her eye.

  She sighed, clearly exasperated. “You are like a mouse sometimes,” she said. “You would be frightened of your own shadow if you were not already acquainted with it.”

  My face flooded with color, and I scrubbed absently at the same spot on the silver knob.

  “It will do you no good to brood,” Selina said in a somewhat harsh tone. “Tell me what happened. Did Mrs. Montford scold you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then what was it?” Selina asked.

  “I…had that dream again,” I said, reluctant, though at the same time, relieved to be able to share it.

  I felt Selina’s gaze pass over my face. “The one of the river?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  She sighed again, taking the cloth from me; I was doing nothing further to help polish the silver. “It is only a dream,” she said.

  “Then why does it always feel so real?” I asked. “It is terribly unsettling.”

  “You knew today would be chaotic, with all the guests coming and going and Mrs. Montford sure to be on edge,” she said. “It is likely only a result of your worry as you went to sleep.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” I said, though the knots in my stomach did nothing to loosen.

  “Either that, or you are clairvoyant,” Selina said with a small jab in my ribs with her elbow. “And you knew that these disasters would occur this morning.”

  I gave her a reluctant smirk. “You know as well as I that—”

  “I know, I know,” Selina said. “But I had to stop you from worrying so. Come along, we must return to Mrs. Rose before anything else goes wrong.”

  With a twinge of dread, I agreed.

  We made our way back toward the kitchens when more shouting reverberated from within.

  “Mrs. Rose?” Selina asked, opening the door. “We have finished the silver!”

  “Get it in here,” Mrs. Rose commanded from within.

  The banging of pots and pans echoed out, causing me to wince. I followed in close after Selina, looking around.

  One of the servants knelt down on the floor, scrubbing at the stone with great vigor. The dark, sooty stone beneath him was caked with grease, which simply smeared as he tried to wipe it clean. Some of the lard, no doubt.

  “Anna Fairweather!”

  I jumped, bumping into the shelf behind me. A sack of flour shifted, and I reached out for it, desperately trying to keep it from tumbling onto the floor at my feet.

  Thankfully, Selina grabbed it with me and we were able to wrestle it back into place.

  “I will ask you not to make any more work for me,” I heard behind me.

  I turned slowly to see Mrs. Rose standing over the stove, using the edge of a knife to slide some sliced potatoes into a large simmering pot.

  She was a tall, lean woman with dark hair like a raven’s wing. Her eyes, sharp and narrow, were like ice, silver and gleaming with anger. It had always surprised me that she ended up as a house cook, as lovely as she was. Age had stolen some of her beauty but it was quite clear she had once been a rose among weeds, indeed.

  “I am terribly sorry,” I said, bowing my head.

  “Get her an apron, will you?” Mrs. Rose told Selina, brandishing her knife in our direction. “See to it that she wears it correctly.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Selina said, drawing me away from the shelves.

  She grabbed an apron from a stack atop a barrel in the corner and hurried back over to me. She tugged it over my head and we pulled it into place.

  “What can we help with?” Selina asked.

  Mrs. Rose snatched the silver tray from the table in the center of the room and gave it a quick look over. “Is there any polish on here?” she asked.

  “I believe I cleaned it thoroughly,” Selina said. “I would be happy to clean it fu
rther if you wish.”

  Our conversation was interrupted in that moment by the sudden arrival of the housekeeper, who stepped into the kitchen.

  “Anna, come along,” Mrs. Carlisle commanded when her eyes found me. “I have a task for you.”

  “Pardon me…” I said, ducking my head. “Excuse me, Miss…”

  “Miss?” a woman said, her eyes narrowing as she glared at me from beneath her slender-brimmed blue hat. “I am Lady Russ, you insolent little—”

  I stepped around her and her husband, hugging the wall, wishing that it would open up and swallow me whole. At least then I would not have to be lingering in the entrance hall where all the guests had begun to show up for the Colonel’s birthday.

  The foyer of the manor was quite lovely most of the time, but the beauty of the tall, vaulted ceilings and the stained-glass windows inlaid within the front doors were lost amongst the crowds of people streaming through. They lingered as soon as they entered, finding friends and acquaintances with whom to exchange pleasantries.

  Mrs. Carlisle had tasked me with collecting the coats of the guests and taking them to the parlor to be arranged in a sensible manner. Organizing the coats did not trouble me. In fact, stepping into the empty room gave me a moment to breathe, though I knew I could not linger.

  I hovered near the wall close to the door. Behind me, I could still feel the wrathful gaze of Lady Russ, indignant that I had not known who she was from a simple glance.

  “Hello,” I said as another pair of guests stepped inside. “May I take your coats?”

  The man, whom I recognized as Chief Constable Talbot, an important figure in town, gave me a small nod as he shrugged off his coat. He passed it to me as he helped his wife remove hers, as well.

  He laid the coats in my arms, and then the couple strode through the foyer, making their way toward the back doors, which lead to the sunroom and then out to the gardens.

  I took a quick peek outside, and to my regret, I saw another car pull up, the engine popping as it came to a stop.

  How many guests had been invited to this party? I thought with mounting frustration.

  As it was the Colonel’s seventieth birthday, I knew it was an event that had been planned over the course of nearly two months. I was now quite convinced that the entire town had been invited, and perhaps the inhabitants of all the villages nearby as well. Was the manor even capable of holding all these people?

  Another servant appeared through the back doors, melding quickly with the crowd. A tall, broad-shouldered man. It was probably Mr. Hendrick, the butler, making his way toward the front door.

  Thank heavens, I thought, which surprised me, given my general dislike of the man on an ordinary day. At least I will not have to greet the guests any longer.

  But the butler soon disappeared once again, the wave of guests hiding him from my view.

  “Fairweather, what are you doing?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin, the coats in my hands tumbling to the floor.

  I stooped to pick them up, my face scarlet.

  Perhaps Selina is right about my worrying too much. I woke with such a terrible fear this morning and it has been nothing but turmoil. Nothing but trouble, all day.

  I stood with the coats in my arms and found myself staring at Mr. Hose, one of the Colonel’s stable hands. It was strange to see him in the house, but given the influx of guests, it was likely important for him to be of help outside of his usual responsibilities.

  Last Christmas, when the servants had celebrated perhaps a bit too thoroughly, he had made a pass at Selina, who had refused him. He had since treated her as if she were no better than dirt. For that reason, I did not care to spend any time in the same room as him.

  My stomach twisted even further. He and Mr. Hendrick looked similar in their matching clothes, but out of the two, I would have preferred Mr. Hendrick any day.

  He glared, pointing at me. “Mrs. Carlisle needs all the maids out in the garden serving drinks,” he said.

  “She asked me to be here, gathering the coats,” I said.

  “No,” he said, snatching the coats from me and pressing a silver tray into my hands. “Go and serve.”

  I saw the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth, and my stomach sank.

  He knows I would rather be indoors than in the crowded garden, I thought. Did Mrs. Carlisle even ask for me?

  But I knew it was best not to question him, as it would only make him more disagreeable than ever. I didn’t need to make enemies unnecessarily.

  I turned, following along the wall, doing my best to keep out of sight of the guests but also of Mr. Hose.

  After pausing near the door to allow a young couple to pass through, I hurried out the back doors into the garden.

  It was as beautiful as Mrs. Montford had hoped it would be.

  Garlands had been strung between the pillars of the terrace, fresh flowers overflowed from crystal vases on every table, and despite the inferior choice of tablecloths, it was quite an elegant affair.

  All the staff, adorned in the same white aprons, seemed to disappear amongst the guests who all wore brighter blues, greens, and reds. One young woman had even chosen a beaded, canary yellow dress, paired with white t-strap shoes.

  I drifted toward the wall, my eyes passing over the guests, in search of a familiar face. I recognized some of the guests that I had come to know during my four years of service to the Montford’s, including the Chief Constable, Mr. Talbot, whom I had seen come in with his wife, as well as the town’s physician, Dr. Conolly. Lady Russ had made her way outdoors, along with her husband.

  Colonel Montford stood near the door, greeting guests as they came through the doors into the garden. With a small turn around one of the pillars, I started in his direction. As I drew nearer, however, he stepped away from the guests and made his way back toward one of his attendants who stood along the wall.

  I hesitated. The Colonel would be none too pleased to have one of the maids approach him without reason, and yet, seeing the hordes of people congregated together on the terrace and garden path made me feel claustrophobic. I had no desire to push my way into their midst carrying my serving tray.

  I shook my head. Although I do not entirely believe Mrs. Carlisle truly asked for me to come out to serve guests, I shall do my best to appear busy by bringing something for the Colonel.

  It was the safest way to be attending and yet inconspicuous.

  I reached a table with some crystal cups that had been ladled with punch. I selected a few filled cups and set them upon my tray. I did my best not to make eye contact with any of the guests, lest they signal me over to serve them.

  I made my way to the Colonel, but as I came around another table, I heard his voice. He sounded angry.

  I stopped, drawing myself behind one of the pillars nearby. I peered around it, seeing the footman he stood near looking rather sheepish.

  “And if I have to tell you one more time, I assure you, George, I shall ensure that it is your last day in my service,” I heard the Colonel say.

  A chill swept over me. What has made the Colonel so angry?

  George looked past the Colonel and noticed me with my tray.

  I saw him shake his head ever so subtly at me, and I realized he was warning me not to approach.

  What could George have done to irritate the Colonel so suddenly? Perhaps it had been something as simple as spilling his drink.

  Nonetheless, the knots in my stomach tightened ever more, reminding me of the terrible feeling I had awoken with that morning.

  I turned around and started back toward the doors to the garden, my heart beating uncomfortably in my chest.

  It was not like the Colonel to be so harsh. He might not have been the warmest man but he did not usually snap at the servants so severely.

  Perhaps something happened earlier, something before the party?

  I hid behind the pillar once again and looked around. With the option of serving the Colonel gone, I ne
eded something else to occupy me.

  My eyes fell upon Mrs. Montford, standing off to the side with an elderly woman named Mrs. Briar, a dear friend of my mistress.

  I made my way through the tables, all of which had been stacked with Mrs. Rose’s delectable cooking. A table near the stairs leading down onto the garden path had been laden with gifts of all shapes and sizes.

  If it had not been for the terrible morning I had endured thus far, and having just witnessed a rare occasion of the Colonel’s wrath, I might have found myself almost enjoying the festivities.

  “There you are, girl,” Mrs. Montford said as I drew near. “I was wondering where you might have gone off to.”

  I said, “Mrs. Carlisle asked me to take the coats of the guests and then she asked if I would come out and serve.”

  Mrs. Montford bristled slightly and then nodded. “Very well. I suppose I did ask you to see what she might need. But I need you now. Set those drinks down.”

  I did as she asked, all too happy to do so.

  Mrs. Montford’s gaze swept over the crowd, and with a brief moment to follow her gaze myself, I found her watching her husband, who had made his way back toward the door to greet the guests once again.

  “Is everything all right with him?” Mrs. Briar asked. “He seems unlike himself today.”

  “I believe so,” Mrs. Montford said.

  I frowned, doing my best to sidle in behind the women, out of sight of the other guests.

  Mrs. Montford turned to look at me. “What seems to be the trouble, girl?” she asked.

  I shifted nervously. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all, ma’am. Everything is right as rain.”

  Mrs. Montford sighed. “I would caution you not to lie to me. You know better.”

  I felt my face redden.

  “Now, tell me, what is the matter?” she asked once again.

  I looked up briefly toward the Colonel.

  “He…seemed irritated,” I said. “He scolded George rather harshly.”

  “For what?” Mrs. Montford asked, her brow furrowing.

  “I do not know,” I said. “But George warned me not to come near. I must admit, I have never heard the sort of tone that the Colonel took with him.”