“This is Eliza, the lady’s maid,” William, the head butler, introduces.

Oscar makes a mental note. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

He gets a curt smile in response and stern but smiling brown eyes. Eliza’s bun bounces lightly at her nod.

“And the empty-headed blonde over there is James, our head cook,” William finishes, not even bothering to gesture to the man.

“Hey! Who are you calling empty-headed?!” James yells in protest. He grabs Oscar’s shoulder and whisper-shouts, “Listen, Oscar, William is a demon, so stay faaar away from him. He’ll work you to death!”

William smacks James’ head. “Don’t put weird ideas into the boy’s head. And don’t you have to start cooking now for lunch to be finished on time?”

James sighs in defeat, but he quickly winks at Oscar before rushing off.

I can’t tell if they’re friends or enemies… Oscar wonders.

“They’ve known each other since they were children,” Eliza whispers to him. “They’re always like that, but don’t worry, they’re good friends.”

“O-okay,” he stutters. This is all very new to him. Blackwood Manor and these…interesting people.

“You’ll be coming with me today, Oscar.” William starts down the long halls in the direction of the foyer. Oscar quickly stumbles after the man. “We’ll start by going through the entire day’s schedule,” William continues. “At what time must you arrive each morning?”

“Uh, eight, sir?” Oscar guesses.

“Wrong. That’s when Eliza, James, and I are ready for the day. You’re just a hall boy so you have to be up much earlier than that. If you don’t start at six, you’ll never finish your morning tasks before eight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

They descend the stairs as William explains other procedures and etiquette expected of him at Blackwood manor. He tries to remember all the information, but he’s already starting to forget some things.

“We’re here,” William says as he stops his stride. He turns to Oscar, revealing footwear laid out behind him on the ground in neat rows. Frilly laced shoes and silken slippers, long leather boots and spats.

Never before had Oscar seen so many pairs. What a rich display. Literally.

“Sir, why are we here?” Oscar asks, uncertain of what to do.

“Around the Blackwood Manor, the hall boy does more than just sweeping the halls. You’ll be polishing these shoes as well as the senior servants’ shoes in the morning. You’ve seen the servants’ quarters where you’ll find our work shoes. All this needs to be done and returned to the owners’ respective rooms before eight.” William presents Oscar with a brush and bottle of polish. “You’d best get used to this.”

Oscar takes the items as William continues on about his other duties: assisting the cooks and waitresses, cleaning the doorknobs, washing the pantry and windows, cleaning the dining room, carrying coal, attending to the front door, and on and on. By the end of it all, Oscar’s face is a few shades paler and he balks at the amount of work there is. Remember, it’s temporary, he tells himself. I’ll be done with this as soon as I kill Edward.

“…show promise, then you’ll be moved up from these duties in time,” William finishes.

Oscar’s ears perk up. “What would I do then, sir?”

“Less mundane work. We’re in need of a hall porter, and you’ve the potential to become one. You’re able to read and write, no matter how little, and with some polishing, you’ll be at a workable level. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re a courteous young man and that is a necessity for a hall porter. But what’s far more important for that position is a discerning eye. You’re not gullible, Oscar. I can tell because neither am I.”

Oscar tenses. Does he know? Have I been caught already?

“I was once in your shoes,” William continues, “and I know from experience you’ll never be satisfied as a mere hall boy. Nobody would be.”

Oscar loosens in relief.

“Come find me once you’re done with these shoes. I’ll likely be keeping James in line at the kitchen.”

Oscar watches William ascend the staircase, leaving him alone in the foyer. He sighs, settling himself on the floor and picking up a black laced boot. Overhead, the sunlight casts a golden glow, illuminating the dust motes as he works. Minutes pass as he scrubs, polishes and shines. By the time he gets to the nineteenth pair, his hand is sore and blistering from the coarse brush. A bead of sweat trickles down his forehead.

Oscar leans back, pausing to rest his arms. His gaze lands on the impressive mural on the ceiling. Now that he has a chance to look at it properly, he realizes the light orbs in the picture being given to the seven hooded figures aren’t light orbs at all. They’re objects.

The one in the middle is actually a golden pocket watch. The others are a quill, jeweled ring, mirror, smiling mask, cloak, and silver chains. Above the choir of angels is an empty gold throne. He’s never seen a painting before where the centerpiece is empty. No halo, no floating divine person, nothing. Weird painting. Isn’t God or something supposed to be sitting there?

A bell rings around the corner. “Lunchtime!” Eliza calls from atop the stairs. “If you’re late you won’t get any!” She notices Oscar and gestures for him to come up too.

The once empty foyer is suddenly filled with voices from the other servants, and the side entrance opens. Young men and women—girls and boys both older and younger than Oscar—trail in. They come from the gardens, the cellar, the storage rooms, chattering away happily. Each of them is dressed in uniform and none of them look as dirty as Oscar had himself just a few days ago.

“Come on,” Eliza says, extending a hand.

Oscar startles. Crap, I zoned out.

“It’s your first time seeing this, right?” Eliza asks, smiling slightly. “There’s a lot of us here and we’re one big family. Blackwood Manor is big, but we’re always just around the corner. So, you don’t have to feel alone.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, swallowing. He takes her hand and she hoists him up. “Thank you.”

Eliza smiles once more before her expression reverts to her usual stern one, the faint onset of age wrinkles making her seem much older than she is. “Lunch finishes in an hour. If you don’t want to miss out, follow me.”