Memoir of a Trapped Housewife

Chapter Four {Shock and Shards}

Chapter Four

Shock and Shards

A maid showed me to my room on the fifth floor, the servant's quarter. The floors were polished slats of oak wood, the walls were plain bare, spotless. Hollings' hospital came to mind.

The cove I was given was bigger than the closet I claimed as my own back home, occupying it were two neatly made beds with downy feathers stuffing the duvets. A window overlooked a glycerin gel-looking lake behind the house and the pine forest beyond. My tired luggage rested at the foot of my bed. Dropping to my knees to unpack, I caught a whiff of the lemon scented floor polish.

As soon as the maid left I unzipped the suitcases and lickety-split dug out all of Sable's items that might bring down my colleagues' suspicion. Would there be a place to hide them? Luckily, my fingers stumbled on a loose floorboard. After moment's hesitation, I shoved Sable's sack of jewelry there like a squirrel. For her dresses I would just have to think of a plausible excuse for owning such fineries.

Once done with unpacking, I dressed in the uniform spread neatly on my bed. Peeking in the mirror hanging on the wall, I giggled at how silly I looked. The attire with its perky little cap, white apron and blocky gown, gave me the appearance of a stern 1940's war nurse.

A smiling maid materialized behind me as I laughed.

"Yeah, the uniforms look just ridiculous. Personally, I think it's because Mizz Cecilia doesn't want us looking too kinky around her brothers, if you know what I mean."

I laughed while reddening. "That's a wicked thing to say."

"It is," she snickered. "But believe me, if there was a way to turn Mr. Calvin Blackstone's head in this, I'd for sure try it."

"Why? Is he cute or something?"

"Extremely so," the girl sighed. "All of them."

I frowned at her dreamy expression. Yes, perhaps men were pleasing to the eye but I found other things about them wholly objectionable; like their tendency to control and their advantageous position in society. So many things men enjoyed were denied by me; even the subject of simple freedom. If I had been a man would I have been approached when I slept outside the bus? If I were a man would my stepfather have trapped me under his roof for the purpose of servitude? If I were a man would I have been thrown out of an inn for having a woman in my room?

I doubted it.

The maid introduced herself. "I'm Annabelle, but people just call me Anna or Belle."

"Bernadette," I replied. "If you like you can call me Berna."

"Okay Berna," Anna grinned. "I think we'll get along well."

Together we headed down five flights of back stairs for the servants and reached the lower chambers where laundry, cooking, and other functions were done. I smelled food and salivated, remembering I hadn't eaten at all today.

The servants were served a light lunch and then sent off. I ravenously devoured three of the sandwiches the cook had prepared, giving very little concern for how odd I undoubtedly appeared. A few new colleagues passed me probing looks, in all likelihood wondering why I ate like a starving animal.

The truth was I hadn't eaten a single bite of food in two days. The excuse I used was that on the road chow was much too expensive. Though really, the looks I received for simply entering most eating establishments in the northern states and in Canada were enough to keep me out of them.

When I finished eating the housekeeper who had recently entered the kitchen curiously regarded me. "What's your name?"

"Bernadette." I smiled.