Chapter 2 (Part One)

Henry’s New Assignment!?

Henry’s POV

~DAY ONE~

Denial

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!”

My lips curled up into a smile as I felt the wool blanket slide off my body. A squeal emitted from her lips as I rolled over and encased my wife in a hug. Placing quick pecks across the back of her neck-

“COCK-A-DOOLE-DOO!”-

“Alright, Jack! I’m up, I’m up!” I shouted playfully, landing a solid slap on my wife’s behind as I pushed my body off the bed.

I shuffled around the tiny dark room searching for my neatly folded livery, then dressed for the day.

Walking over to the door, I felt a slight tinge of unwillingness well up in my chest. I looked back at the sleeping mass on the bed behind me, a light chuckle escaping my lips. 

Beautiful. 

Humming softly, I walked outside, letting the door close with a soft clack. 

It was another brisk morning. I looked over at my good friend, Jack. A majestic cock perched proudly atop the wooden fence post, his long, curved tail feathers flowed behind him like a silken cape.

“Your Grace,” I said with a smile, giving him a deep formal bow before trotting off towards the Alistair Estate.

Like every morning, the dawn was breathtaking. The dew-drenched grass glistened like diamonds in the early light that peeked atop the edge of the horizon. Smiling broadly, I walked down the dirt path to the road. My heart felt full, swelling with so much joy and happiness, I feared it might burst at any minute. Not a day has passed since I’ve been married to that gorgeous woman in there, that I’ve not had a jump in my step.

I arrived at the Alistair Estate exactly on time, like always, shuffling in through the servants’ entrance. Making my way between the lively morning bustle to the storeroom to collect my items for the day. Being sure to give a polite nod or smile when due. If I’ve learned anything over my time serving the Alistairs, it’s ‘Only speak when spoken to.’ The lady of the house did not appreciate idle chatter and although the main family did not often reside in the countryside estate, I’ve grown used to the silence over the past 8 years. All you really need to do in this line of work is listen anyway.

My focus shifted to the empty wooden coal buckets before me, coated in soot from daily use. I grabbed the familiar metal shovel still propped against the wall, where I’d left it yesterday. Humming lightly to myself, I started to fill the buckets. My first daily task: Filling the coal scuttles in the servants’ quarters.

After heaving the now full buckets of coal onto a wooden push-cart, I made my way through the first-floor servants’ quarters. While I was very aware everyone had already started their day, buzzing about the empty estate ensuring its prompt upkeep, I could never bring myself to enter someone's living space without a prompt knock. I proceeded to make my way down the hall, attending to the coal-less scuttles, in the unoccupied rooms.

Placing the last empty bucket atop the push-cart, I started back toward the storeroom, satisfied with my work. I quickly moved the cart out of the way towards the wall as two maids scurried past with hyper-focus on whatever had them in such a hurry. With an unbothered shrug of my shoulders I continued forward once more, only to come to a halt before a pair of finely polished black shoes.

Looking up, I faced none other than our esteemed Head Butler. A glint of admiration flashed in my eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Abraham,” I greeted with a slight bow.

He said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgement after staring at me for a brief moment, then walked off towards the Head Maid's office. He was a dignified man, adequately skilled, and wholly deserving of his position. I reminisced as I brought my cart back in motion towards the storeroom once more, parking it tightly against the wall before offloading the empty buckets back to their proper place.

I then procured a clean bucket, tossing in a container of shoe polish, a velvet-faced clothing brush, and a few unsoiled rags. The next task on my list was to polish His Grace’s shoes in preparation for the upcoming winter months, and to brush and refresh his outerwear. I’ll never cease to be amazed at how nobles are able to hold separate estates with multiple untouched wardrobes. I catch my wife's ire if I don’t polish and brush my single livery every few days. I cracked a broad smile, her ire wasn’t so bad either.

Bucket in hand, I walked out of the storeroom, the door closing firmly behind me. I backed against the wall as another set of maids came rushing down the corridor.

“Good morning, Henry," one greeted as they passed me. I smiled and gave a polite nod.

“..they say she tried to kill herself, can you believe it? How shameful,” 

I looked back at their retreating forms. Gossip was in no way a new trend among servants, I suppose it’s a way of life to some, but what on earth could have them speaking of something so dark? I shook my head and headed off in the direction of the third-floor living quarters. The Duke's shoes were certainly not going to polish themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~

The clothing brush landed atop the shoe polish soiled rags in my bucket with a thud. I stood up from the stool I had been crouched on for the past few hours and stretched. I had finally finished polishing all His Grace's shoes and brushing the winter outerwear. I placed the small wooden stool back in the corner of the large bedroom and grabbed my bucket of supplies.

A low growl erupted from the depths of my empty stomach. It was time for a well-earned lunch. I held my bucket close as I made my way down the corridor to the servant stairs, weaving through the bustle of people busying about. The estate was certainly more lively than usual. I wonder if we’re preparing for visitors?

It was not often we received guests at the Alistairs’ countryside Estate. From my knowledge, this home was actually built for the late former duchess, Lady Ophelia. The current duchess, Lady Beatrice does not frequent this estate. I never had the pleasure of serving the former duchess, as she passed before my time here began, but I’ve heard stories from the other long-standing servants. She was beautiful and kind, but stricken with an unknown illness, far too young. A tragedy, indeed.

“-ery? Henry?!” My head sprung up, as I snapped out of my thoughts at the sound of my name.

“Forgive me, my mind had wandered,” I apologized, giving the short, stout woman my full attention. Although she didn’t seem happy about having to repeat herself, she continued.

“After your lunch, Mr. Abraham requests you to his office,” she huffed as she stalked away in the other direction.

I blinked in confusion. Mr. Abraham? I typically don't meet with him for additional assignments until later in the day. How unusual. I replaced my bucket on its low-hanging shelf in the storeroom and shut the door behind me tightly. 

 Stepping into the hallway, I followed behind some chatty servants headed toward the staff dining hall, completely shocked by the conversation I’d overheard.

My brows furrowed in concern.

“...Exactly. They said the Duke’s daughter tried to poison herself, so they sent her here,” one woman whispered.

“My goodness, to think she’d do such a thing. The Duke must just be beside himself,” the other responded loudly.

“That’s not all!” she continued in a hushed tone.

“What more could there possibly be?!” the other exclaimed.

“I heard that she did it because she fell in love with a stable boy of all people!” she continued, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning closer.

“How uncouth!” the other whispered.

“Shh, it’s said there was even a pregnancy,” she whispered, looking around. 

My heart skipped a beat. What an unfortunate scandal for a young woman.

“My goodness!” the other squealed in shock.

They turned off walking in a different direction. I continued into the dining hall, deep in thought, receiving my lunch plate and sitting down among my chattering peers. The earlier conversation kept replaying in my head. It was even on the lips of my peers gathered around me. Each variation was slightly different, but none less awful than the last retelling.

My meal was somehow tasteless. The simple act of feeding myself was something I couldn’t recall, nor, for that matter, how I ended up facing the intimidatingly large, solid oak door before me. It’s like I had been in an absent-minded daze.

I took a grounding breath and finally gave Mr. Abraham’s door 3 sturdy knocks. Arriving here was but a faint recollection. Which I'm sure was due to so many unpleasant thoughts swirling around in my head. Swallowing hard, I tried to quell my lunch that sat, swirling, unsettled in my stomach. I promptly entered upon hearing Mr. Abraham’s summons.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Abraham,” I said with a bow.

He was sitting at a large oak desk, with a few small stacks of paperwork collected into neat piles. He gestured for me to sit down in an adjacently faced chair. I compiled swiftly and looked to him for instruction. He pulled out a thin folder from a drawer and held it in his hands for a minute before setting it down in front of him. I stared at him nervously as we duly existed in a brief silence. What in the world is going on here?

“Good afternoon, Henry. I have an assignment I'd like to extend to you. One that I believe you'd be well equipped to handle.”

I gave a slow, grim nod. With how the house had been buzzing this morning, this surely had something to do with the arrival of the Duke's disgraced daughter. What could Mr. Abraham possibly think I could do for her?

“As I'm sure you've heard, the Duke's heir will be residing in the countryside estate for an undisclosed amount of time,” he said, opening the folder with a swift flip.

“I'd like to extend the position of Lady Isadora's personal footman and coachman,” he continued. He grabbed a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and placed them atop the bridge of his nose.

I was at a complete loss for words. It’s every male servant's dream to elevate to the position of footman for a noble family… But to act as a footman to that of a shamed noblewoman? I tried to clear the growing itch in my throat that became more uncomfortable by the second.

“Should you accept, your current duties would cease, and these two positions would become your sole responsibility. They, of course, come with a pay increase,” he said, eyeing me from over his spectacles.

Sitting completely still, I racked my brain. A pay increase could alleviate a significant amount of monetary strain for us. My wife and I could even start a family sooner. I gripped the sides of my chair. But serving a disgraced noblewoman would surely cause people to look down on me and my family by association. If this assignment ends up being short-lived, I may find myself without a means of work.

“Mr. Abraham,” I started. Cogitating to find the appropriate words.

“While it’s an honor to be offered the position of footman for the esteemed Alistair family. I might ask if I could consult my wife? It's not long since we've been wed, and I would like my family to be a part of decisions that could alter our lives.” I replied slowly, meeting his stern eyes.

This is a decision that would not only have an effect on us financially, but how we were perceived socially by our peers and society. I couldn't possibly make it on my own without so much as her opinion.

“Of course. Report here tomorrow morning with your answer. I trust it will be favorable, as I intend for your duties to ensue immediately,” he said, turning back to the neat piles of work on his desk.

With a stiff nod, I rose from the chair. I gave a deep bow, then exited the room swiftly. The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding shakily escaped my mouth as the office door shut behind me.

Never in my life would I have thought I'd be offered the position of footman to a member of the main family. Albeit a disgraced heir. A noble family's prestige extends to its servants, so does its shame. How could I knowingly put my wife in that position? With a pay increase, I could provide us with a more secure means of survival. We’d certainly be able to live more comfortably. Just what exactly is the right decision here?

The afternoon passed by as quickly as it had come. I found myself focused on the dirt beneath my feet. The sound of gravel crushing harshly between the soles of my shoes and the quiet road home. I considered the conversation I was to have this evening as I watched the sun start to lower in the distance. This breathtaking golden hour I witnessed every day felt different. As the sun's harsh edges of light began to soften, the chaos of the day quieted somehow more than usual, replaced by the hushed symphony of twilight.

I saw the dim glow of candlelight through the quaint windows of our home. Without a second thought, my pace quickened, until my hands were pushing through the front door. My body falling into a set of outstretched arms.

“Henry, you're late,” 

I nuzzled my face into my wife's dark blonde hair. Reveling in her warm embrace. No one in the world could be as sweet as this woman. There was no smell, no taste, no feeling that could match hers.

“I’m sorry. I had to meet with Mr. Abraham this afternoon and fell behind on my work,” I admitted, embarrassment flowing into my cheeks.

I released her and proceeded to remove my livery. She handed me a linen nightshirt. I slid it over my head and sat down at the kitchen table, inhaling the savory scent of a vegetable and grain stew. 

“Oh my, I hope it wasn’t anything troubling,” She said, adding a few scoops of soup into a wooden bowl before placing it gently on the table in front of me.

“I’m not sure yet, tell me about your day first,” I replied, changing the subject as she sat down beside me with her own bowl.

“Well, at work today, I heard from one of the ladies maids, the heir of the Alistair estate took up lodgings in the countryside, but there was a complete scandal,” She said, pausing to savor a spoonful of soup.

“What had they to say about the scandal? The entire estate was abuzz with news of terrible acts,” I asked, my ears immediately perking up.

“Goodness, Henry. It isn’t like you to gossip,” She teased as I felt my ears grow warm. She leaned closer.

“From what I was told, this information comes from the Grand Duchess’s daughter,” she continued as I cocked my head to the side in question.

“Truly! One of the ladies in waiting attended a soiree and the child seemed to be telling everyone that would listen about the whole scandal,” She explained. 

“She claims that her sister had inappropriate relations with a stable boy! He apparently used her, then tossed her away, causing her to attempt to take her life by poison,” She said, shaking her head, then grabbing our empty bowls and proceeding to wash them in a bucket.