Secret Letters by Leah Scheier Page A

basement and placed in the housekeeper’s charge.
    Mrs. Bentney looked me over with a critical eye, and her greeting consisted of a sniff and a comment about my thinness. “I trust you’re not consumptive or sickly,” she demanded severely as she led me on a brief tour of the home. “We will need a good deal of help in the coming weeks with the reception for the wedding. The event was supposed to take place at the bride’s home, of course, but an outbreak of typhoid fever among their staff necessitated a change of plans. As if that’s not enough, tomorrow night Lady Jane and her family are dining with His Lordship, so you’d best look smart and learn your duties quickly. I understand you come with the best references, though I wager you’ve never served in a home this grand.”
    I prayed that she would not inquire too deeply into my résumé but a simple “No, mum” and an awed stare seemed to satisfy her. She puffed her cheeks out with an air of self-importance and proceeded to describe my chores and the intricate rules that applied to my attendance of the noble family.
    My duties were those of any under-maid and consisted of the “lower work,” cleaning grates and lighting fires, scrubbing floors, and all other occupations that were beneath those of the upper-house servant, who attended to the standing work (curtains and such). I was one of seven girls of a similar status in an estate that boasted forty house servants, as well as a dozen men to tend to the stables and the grounds.
    A girl in my position could, after years of dedicated service, aspire to the post of a cook’s assistant, or if she was especially pretty and well-spoken, a parlor maid. I could never hope to achieve the status of a woman like Bertha, Lady Rose’s lady’s maid, whose main purpose in life had vanished with her mistress and whom we occasionally observed wandering about the house with a lost look in her vacant eyes. These servants were recruited from good families and were much more cultured and literate than the ignorant under-staff. The snobbery below stairs was one of the most frustrating obstacles to my real occupation in that home, as I could not easily converse with those girls who had the most contact with the lords and ladies.
    Mornings for the lower staff began at five-thirty when I, along with four other girls, would polish and light the kitchen range. The reception hall and breakfast room were then dusted, and the grates black-leaded and fireplaces lit. The latter was the most difficult of all my chores; it was lucky that one of my fellow under-maids was patient with me and helped me with the task until I learned the trick. Finally, before mealtime, I would empty the dustbin into the rubbish container behind the stables and carry out any other refuse which remained from the evening before.
    I was shaking the bin to make room for my odorous bag of kitchen scraps when a large metallic object sailed out from the overloaded tub and knocked me on the temple. I leaned over to pick it up, wondering lazily why someone would throw out the mechanism of a clock instead of attempting to repair it, and chucked it back into the pile. “Careless, wasteful noblemen” was my assessment; and, wiping my hands on my dress, I hurried to complete my errands before the upper-maids joined us for tea.
    I had completed the sweeping and was heading toward the servants’ hall when I encountered Agatha, a young parlor-maid, who was carrying a tray of cutlery to the dining room. As I passed her, I noticed her pallor and dilated eyes; but in my rush I paid no heed until I heard a wretched gasping sound behind me, and the clatter of falling silver. I ran back in time to catch the poor girl from falling to the ground, and a moment later she was sick into a potted houseplant in the corner. When she had recovered from her spell, I helped her to her feet and indicated that I would fetch some assistance, but to my surprise, she clung frantically to my