Thedra

I dream I am a child again, happy in Clyde manor. My father and brothers are still alive, my mother smiles happily. Everything is warmth, sunshine and laughter.

When I wake there is pain and darkness, but always a presence. Familiar, reassuring. Someone holding my hand, a man’s voice speaking to me softly, reading to me out of that old novel I love so well, Friend of the Stars.

Like this, I drift back to comfortable sleep, and pleasant dreams.

When I finally wake fully, Mrs. Agate is standing over me with a cranky expression on her ruddy face. “There you are, Sleeping Beauty. Finally decided to wake up at last?”

“How long have I been asleep?” I sit up, feeling remarkably well, I think, for all I’ve been through.

“Two days,” she answers, “and kept me and the master busy tending you,” she adds with undisguised annoyance. “As if I didn’t have enough work to do…”

The master, she says, but that can’t be right. Why would the master take time to tend me? I look with bewilderment around the guestroom I’ve cleaned a few times before. “What am I doing here?”

“Ask the master, he carried you here himself when he found you in that state. Right worried, he was, hardly sleeping or taking his meals. Wouldn’t be satisfied till you were well again.”

What’s she saying now? I hide my flaming cheeks behind my hands. “Why would he do something like that?”

“Why indeed?” Mrs. Agate clucks. “He’s been busy doing a lot of things lately. Inspecting all the servant’s rooms, having the windows re-calked and new warm bedding supplied to all of the staff. He’s made Evelyn look like a fool, since all this is supposed to be her job. But that’s what she gets for neglecting her duty. She was lucky Mr. Bentham didn’t fire her on the spot, when he found out what she’d put you through.”

I don’t know what to say. When she talks of Mr. Bentham making a fuss because of me, I feel so incredibly shy and grateful. Seeing me so overwhelmed, Mrs. Agate smiles a bit gruffly. “You had us worried, young one. Promise me you won’t let yourself get to that point ever again.”

“It’s not as though I had a choice,” I murmur, recalling the way Evelyn pushed me until I collapsed that day, freezing on the stone steps. Beside me, Mrs. Agate snorts.

“If you’re talking about that old sow Evelyn Murdock, I think you’ll find her changed as well. Humbled,” she chuckles with satisfaction. “Yes, rather humbled since the master’s little chat with her. She won’t be troubling you anymore, at least not like before.”

It all sounds too good to be true. All these good things happening to me, and all because of Mr. Bentham… He truly is the most wonderful master. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve to work for someone like him.

Feeling my face getting hot again I quickly rise from the soft bed I’ve been sleeping in and begin to strip the sheets.

“What are you doing, girl?”

“I mustn’t be idle. I owe Mr. Bentham a huge debt of gratitude.”

“Yes, but you can’t expect to work in your nightshirt. Not that I disapprove of your sentiment— one can’t lie around all day when there’s work to be done. But just you come downstairs and dress yourself first and get some solid food in your gut, then you can work to your heart’s content.”

“Yes, Mrs. Agate.”

I feel incredible, so magnificently restored after resting for so long. My bruises are fading to ugly yellow marks, and my body no longer aches with fever. After taking Mrs. Agate’s advice and having a meal of warm toast and stew, I hurry to my room to change into my uniform. Throwing open the door, I stop short at the threshold, realizing I’ve miscounted the doors in the hall— this is not my room. Closing it, I step back to recount, and with growing confusion I realize I had the right door after all. I open it again and peer tentatively inside.

The draft is gone. The old window has been properly sealed and covered with a white curtain embroidered with tiny delicate pink flowers. The bare wooden floor is now furnished with a lush ruby colored rug, and the bed is made with a whole mountain of soft white blankets and pillows. On top of that is a folded letter sealed with the wax initials R.B., and a red silk carnation. I take them both up in nervous hands and open the letter. Inside is a single line, penned in a heavy, elegant script:

It was the least I could do.

I feel my eyes start to well with tears. He really is the most wonderful, the most considerate…

I scrub my face and suck a deep breath. I must work even harder to be deserving of such kindness.

In no time I’m in my uniform and back to work with redoubled effort. I return to the guestroom where I stayed and change the bedding and wash all the surfaces. I go on my hands and knees with a brush and a dustpan to make sure there’s not a single speck on the floor. Satisfied I’ve cleaned up after myself, I leave to begin my other chores.

I’m just coming back with the feather duster to tackle the paintings when I notice a familiar set of footsteps drawing near. I freeze in place and my blood goes cold.

Evelyn.

My head lowers automatically. As she draws up to me I see only the toes of her black shoes, and the end of what looks to be a new wooden cane.

“The master wants to see you. He’s in his office.”

I wait, cringing slightly in anticipation of further orders or abuse, but she says nothing more. Her silence is scary, I think, shaking slightly. Scarier than anything else she could ever say to me. It makes me wonder what she’s plotting.

Mrs. Agate said I’d find Evelyn changed, but even without looking at her I can sense she hasn’t changed at all. If anything, her hatred for me’s grown even stronger.

I wish I knew what to do about it. I wish I knew what would make her happy, but probably there is nothing that would make Evelyn Murdock happy. Except maybe seeing me dead with overwork.

“Well?” she prompts me when I don’t move. “Get on with you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer quietly, and hurry away with my neck still bent.

“Thedra,” she calls after me, and I freeze in my tracks. A few tense seconds pass. Then she speaks.

“Don’t run that mouth of yours too much. You wouldn’t want to bother the master.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I’m understandably nervous as I approach Mr. Bentham’s office door. Evelyn’s warning rings in my ear, together with Mrs. Agate’s account concerning his care for me. And then there was my bedroom, too. Truthfully with all that’s happened I have no idea how I’m supposed to approach this man. Best keep a professional distance, I decide, taking a few centering breaths and putting my hand out. Act like I always do.

Quietly, with my head down, I open the door and let myself inside.

Almost at once I hear the sound of writing stop and Mr. Bentham sets his pen down with a faint tap.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“That’s right,” he says, and waits a few seconds. “Are you just going to stand there, or—”

“Where would you like me to stand?” I ask, flustered.

He hesitates, then answers, “Anywhere you like, I suppose.”

“Then,” I lower my head a little more and remain where I am. I hear him sigh faintly. Was that the wrong answer? I hope I haven’t offended him. It’s just that I feel unworthy somehow, of drawing any closer.

“I see you’ve returned to work. Are you sure you’re well enough to be up?”

“I am,” I assure him. “I feel much stronger.”

“I’m told,” he says at length, “you suffered a great deal at the hands of the head housekeeper.”

I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that, so I remain still.

“I’ve had words with Mrs. Murdock. She understands what she did to you was unacceptable. If anything like it happens again, come to me immediately and I will set things right.”

“Yes, Sir.”

 Again, he hesitates. I hear his chair creak as he shifts his weight in it. Then he rises and starts forward. My heart starts to beat wildly and I feel my face go red hot at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

Don’t come any closer! I’d like to yell. I won’t know what to do if you stand so close to me…