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IT was the autumn after I had the typhoid. I'd been three months in
hospital, and when I came out I looked so weak and tottery that the
two or three ladies I applied to were afraid to engage me. Most of
my money was gone, and after I'd boarded for two months, hanging
about the employment-agencies, and answering any advertisement that
looked any way respectable, I pretty nearly lost heart, for fretting
hadn't made me fatter, and I didn't see why my luck should ever
turn. It did though--or I thought so at the time. A Mrs. Railton, a
friend of the lady that first brought me out to the States, met me
one day and stopped to speak to me: she was one that had always a
friendly way with her. She asked me what ailed me to look so white,
and when I told her, "Why, Hartley," says she, "I believe I've got
the very place for you. Come in to-morrow and we'll talk about it."
The next day, when I called, she told me the lady she'd in mind was
a niece of hers, a Mrs. Brympton, a youngish lady, but something of
an invalid, who lived all the year round at her country-place on the
Hudson, owing to not being able to stand the fatigue of town life.
"Now, Hartley," Mrs. Railton said, in that cheery way that always
made me feel things must be going to take a turn for the
better--"now understand me; it's not a cheerful place i'm sending
you to. The house is big and gloomy; my niece is nervous, vaporish;
her husband--well, he's generally away; and the two children are
dead. A year ago, I would as soon have thought of shutting a rosy
active girl like you into a vault; but you're not particularly brisk
yourself just now, are you? and a quiet place, with country air and
wholesome food and early hours, ought to be the very thing for you.
Don't mistake me," she added, for I suppose I looked a trifle
downcast; "you may find it dull, but you won't be unhappy. My niece
is an angel. Her former maid, who died last spring, had been with
her twenty years and worshipped the ground she walked on. She's a
kind mistress to all, and where the mistress is kind, as you know,
the servants are generally good-humored, so you'll probably get on
well enough with the rest of the household. And you're the very
woman I want for my niece: quiet, well-mannered, and educated above
your station. You read aloud well, I think? That's a good thing; my
niece likes to be read to. She wants a maid that can be something of
a companion: her last was, and I can't say how she misses her. It's
a lonely life...Well, have you decided?"
"Why, ma'am," I said, "I'm not afraid of solitude."
"Well, then, go; my niece will take you on my recommendation. I'll
telegraph her at once and you can take the afternoon train. She has
no one to wait on her at present, and I don't want you to lose any
time."
I was ready enough to start, yet something in me hung back; and to
gain time I asked, "And the gentleman, ma'am?"
"The gentleman's almost always away, I tell you," said Mrs. Ralston,
quick-like--"and when he's there," says she suddenly, "you've only
to keep out of his way."
I took the afternoon train and got out at D-----station at about
four o'clock. A groom in a dog-cart was waiting, and we drove off at
a smart pace. It was a dull October day, with rain hanging close
overhead, and by the time we turned into the Brympton Place woods
the daylight was almost gone. The drive wound through the woods for
a mile or two, and came out on a gravel court shut in with thickets
of tall black-looking shrubs. There were no lights in the windows,
and the house _did_ look a bit gloomy.
I had asked no questions of the groom, for I never was one to get my
notion of new masters from their other servants: I prefer to wait
and see for myself. But I could tell by the look of everything that
I had got into the right kind of house, and that things were done
handsomely. A pleasant-faced cook met me at the back door and called
the house-maid to show me up to my room. "You'll see madam later,"
she said. "Mrs. Brympton has a visitor."
I hadn't fancied Mrs. Brympton was a lady to have many visitors, and
somehow the words cheered me. I followed the house-maid upstairs,
and saw, through a door on the upper landing, that the main part of
the house seemed well-furnished, with dark panelling and a number of
old portraits. Another flight of stairs led us up to the servants'
wing. It was almost dark now, and the house-maid excused herself for
not having brought a light. "But there's matches in your room," she
said, "and if you go careful you'll be all right. Mind the step at
the end of the passage. Your room is just beyond."
I looked ahead as she spoke, and half-way down the passage, I saw a
woman standing. She drew back into a doorway as we passed, and the
house-maid didn't appear to notice her. She was a thin woman with a
white face, and a darkish stuff gown and apron. I took her for the
housekeeper and thought it odd that she didn't speak, but just gave
me a long look as she went by. My room opened into a square hall at
the end of the passage. Facing my door was another which stood open:
the house-maid exclaimed when she saw it.
"There--Mrs. Blinder's left that door open again!" said she, closing
it.
"Is Mrs. Blinder the housekeeper?"
"There's no housekeeper: Mrs. Blinder's the cook."
"And is that her room?"
"Laws, no," said the house-maid, cross-like. "That's nobody's room.
It's empty, I mean, and the door hadn't ought to be open. Mrs.
Brympton wants it kept locked."
She opened my door and led me into a neat room, nicely furnished,
with a picture or two on the walls; and having lit a candle she took
leave, telling me that the servants'-hall tea was at six, and that
Mrs. Brympton would see me afterward.
I found them a pleasant-spoken set in the servants' hall, and by
what they let fall I gathered that, as Mrs. Railton had said, Mrs.
Brympton was the kindest of ladies; but I didn't take much notice of
their talk, for I was watching to see the pale woman in the dark
gown come in. She didn't show herself, however, and I wondered if
she ate apart; but if she wasn't the housekeeper, why should she?
Suddenly it struck me that she might be a trained nurse, and in that
case her meals would of course be served in her room. If Mrs.
Brympton was an invalid it was likely enough she had a nurse. The
idea annoyed me, I own, for they're not always the easiest to get on
with, and if I'd known, I shouldn't have taken the place. But there
I was, and there was no use pulling a long face over it; and not
being one to ask questions, I waited to see what would turn up.
When tea was over, the house-maid said to the footman: "Has Mr.
Ranford gone?" and when he said yes, she told me to come up with her
to Mrs. Brympton.
Mrs. Brympton was lying down in her bedroom. Her lounge stood near
the fire and beside it was a shaded lamp. She was a delicate-looking
lady, but when she smiled I felt there was nothing I wouldn't do for
her. She spoke very pleasantly, in a low voice, asking me my name
and age and so on, and if I had everything I wanted, and if I wasn't
afraid of feeling lonely in the country.
"Not with you I wouldn't be, madam," I said, and the words surprised
me when I'd spoken them, for I'm not an impulsive person; but it was
just as if I'd thought aloud.
She seemed pleased at that, and said she hoped I'd continue in the
same mind; then she gave me a few directions about her toilet, and
said Agnes the house-maid would show me next morning where things
were kept.
"I am tired to-night, and shall dine upstairs," she said. "Agnes
will bring me my tray, that you may have time to unpack and settle
yourself; and later you may come and undress me."
"Very well, ma'am," I said. "You'll ring, I suppose?"
I thought she looked odd.
"No--Agnes will fetch you," says she quickly, and took up her book
again.
Well--that was certainly strange: a lady's maid having to be fetched
by the house-maid whenever her lady wanted her! I wondered if there
were no bells in the house; but the next day I satisfied myself that
there was one in every room, and a special one ringing from my
mistress's room to mine; and after that it did strike me as queer
that, whenever Mrs. Brympton wanted anything, she rang for Agnes,
who had to walk the whole length of the servants' wing to call me.
But that wasn't the only queer thing in the house. The very next day
I found out that Mrs. Brympton had no nurse; and then I asked Agnes
about the woman I had seen in the passage the afternoon before.
Agnes said she had seen no one, and I saw that she thought I was
dreaming. To be sure, it was dusk when we went down the passage, and
she had excused herself for not bringing a light; but I had seen the
woman plain enough to know her again if we should meet. I decided
that she must have been a friend of the cook's, or of one of the
other women-servants: perhaps she had come down from town for a
night's visit, and the servants wanted it kept secret. Some ladies
are very stiff about having their servants' friends in the house
overnight. At any rate, I made up my mind to ask no more questions.
In a day or two, another odd thing happened. I was chatting one
afternoon with Mrs. Blinder, who was a friendly disposed woman, and
had been longer in the house than the other servants, and she asked
me if I was quite comfortable and had everything I needed. I said I
had no fault to find with my place or with my mistress, but I
thought it odd that in so large a house there was no sewing-room for
the lady's maid.
"Why," says she, "there _is_ one; the room you're in is the old
sewing-room."
"Oh," said I; "and where did the other lady's maid sleep?"
At that she grew confused, and said hurriedly that the servants'
rooms had all been changed about last year, and she didn't rightly
remember.
That struck me as peculiar, but I went on as if I hadn't noticed:
"Well, there's a vacant room opposite mine, and I mean to ask Mrs.
Brympton if I mayn't use that as a sewing-room."
To my astonishment, Mrs. Blinder went white, and gave my hand a kind
of squeeze. "Don't do that, my dear," said she, trembling-like. "To
tell you the truth, that was Emma Saxon's room, and my mistress has
kept it closed ever since her death."
"And who was Emma Saxon?"
"Mrs. Brympton's former maid."
"The one that was with her so many years?" said I, remembering what
Mrs. Railton had told me.
Mrs. Blinder nodded.
"What sort of woman was she?"
"No better walked the earth," said Mrs. Blinder. "My mistress loved
her like a sister."
"But I mean--what did she look like?"
Mrs. Blinder got up and gave me a kind of angry stare. "I'm no great
hand at describing," she said; "and I believe my pastry's rising."
And she walked off into the kitchen and shut the door after her.
Read next: CHAPTER II
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