The Letter - Chapter 43

The first thing I heard was the key turning in the lock.  The bedroom door opened with barely a sound.  As I started to wake up, the feather tick felt luxurious.  I snuggled down into the bedding, suddenly aware that I wasn’t in my bed in my house.  The memories of the past evening came rushing back.  The Sweetheart Dance, Jeff, that slow dance, gazing up into his eyes expectantly.  And the kiss that never happened because my mother dragged me from his arms and made me a virtual prisoner behind the stone walls and iron gate of this compound.  I looked around, but couldn’t see anything beyond the drawn curtains of the bed’s canopy.  I lifted my arm and felt the soft material of the pajamas they had laid out for me last evening.  I heard stirring nearby.

“Hello?  Who’s there?  Mother?”

A hand drew the curtain aside.  “No, Miss.  It’s just me doing a bit of tidying up.”

I looked at the young woman.  Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun.  Her brown eyes looked me over, unsure of whom she was looking at or why I was here.  I guessed her to be a few years older than me.  She was wearing a uniform. 

“And who are you?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

“I’m Minerva, Miss.  I’m the housemaid here at the estate.”

“Minerva?  Seriously?”

“My mother was a big fan of Roman mythology.  Would you like me to pull the curtains aside and open the blinds to let in the light of the day?”

“Sure.”  I didn’t know how I should act with a servant.  “Which goddess was Minerva?”

“She was the Roman goddess of wisdom and war.”

“Well, I sure could use some wisdom, and I feel like I’m in the middle of a war.”

“Miss?”

“Uh, never mind.  I’m Jennifer, by the way.”  I wasn’t sure how far I could trust Minerva.  I extended my hand, but she declined to shake it.  Protocol?  “So, how many servants are there in this house?”

“There are just three of us – well, four if you count Henry the chauffeur, which I suppose you should.  There’s Mr. Hughes the butler, Mrs. Tomlinson the cook and me.  My mum says that’s the minimum for a house this size.  But I think it’s not enough.  We’re kept very busy.”

I threw the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed.  “Do you live here?”

“No, Miss.  This house doesn’t have servant’s quarters.  We all go to our separate homes at the end of the workday.  My schedule is 6:30 to 3:00 most days.  Mr. Hughes and Mrs. Tomlinson start later and stay later to cover the dinner hour.  And Henry works whenever they need him.   I’m usually not here during the weekends.  None of us are, unless something special is happening.  But I guess your being here is special, since we’re all here on a Sunday.”

“So, am I supposed to let you dress me?”

“No.  I’m a housemaid, not a lady’s maid.  Do you know the difference?”

“Sure.  I’m a big fan of Downton Abbey.  I detect a slight accent, though your English is perfect.  Were you born outside the United States?”

“Yes.  My parents came to this country as refugees from Syria.  They run a small restaurant.  In Coraopolis.  Here are the clothes Madame has picked out for you.”  Minerva pointed to a neatly folded set of clothes on the bench in front of a vanity.  I have more work to do.  Would you like me to turn on the fireplace before I leave?”

“No thank you.  I’m plenty warm.”

“There are soaps, shampoos and other things you might need in your bathroom.  I’ve also laid out fresh towels for you.”

I looked at the door leading to my private bathroom.  I hadn’t noticed the private bath during the whirlwind tour Mother had given me last week. 

“Thank you, Minerva.  It was nice talking to you.  Maybe I’ll see you again.  I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

“I hope it will be for a while.  It’s nice having someone close to my age to talk to.”  She grasped the door handle and pulled a key from her apron pocket.  “Oh, I’m sorry Miss, but Madame insisted that I lock you in.  For your safety.”  Minerva exited my room and I heard the lock click shut.

I stood there on the plush rug considering my situation.  How long is my mother going to keep me locked up in this room?  At this point I have no way to communicate with the outside world.  Minerva could be a valuable friend.  She leaves this place every day.  Perhaps she could get a message to Dad.  I looked at the clothes.  They were far more fashionable than the clothes I normally wear.  At least they were the correct size.   On the vanity was a full array of beauty products.  My mother must have done some research on popular brands among teens and young women.  Too bad I never use makeup – well maybe a little on special occasions like a semi-formal dance.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  My tears on the ride here last night had pretty much wiped out the little I had put on last evening.  I looked toward the bathroom.  A hot shower would feel good.  I walked to the bathroom door and looked at the neat stack of soft towels on the sink.  Then I saw the Jacuzzi tub.  Well, if I’m going to be a prisoner, I might as well enjoy the available perks.  I filled the tub with hot water, climbed in and turned on the jets.