∞CASSIDY☼
I realized one fundamental detail after putting on the uniform.
I have long realized that this is a servant's frock so this detail is far more important than that. For a moment I hesitated opening the stable door because of the missing detail. A detail that when ignored could be monumental. Mark the Horse, neighed encouragingly at me and I went back to stroke his mane. "I look weird in this bonnet, don't I?"
The door swung open, making me jump up. "Spritely early in the morning, er we girly? Ye 'ave time to worry about yer bonnet but no time to serve breakfast?"
The woman that entered the stable was red faced with anger and I have no doubts to who it's directed toward. I was not able to answer immediately in my shock and to top it all off, I wasn't able to understand a word. I had to run her words over in my head again.
"What? Do we 'ave two princesses in our 'ands afterall? Come on ye and be done with it!" She's taller than me so even as I tried to slap her hand away she managed to grab on my ear flap. She dragged me out the door with it as I yelped out in pain. It feels like it's being detached from my head.
"Yes, missus!" I played along, trying to copy her accent but it was blocky and airy in my tongue. I never was a good actress. "They sent me out 'ere to give 'ay to the 'orses, missus! I'm sorry!"
She harrumphed and finally let me go. Her black eyes are shrewd and with her hooked nose, gave her face great resemblance to a crow. She turned her rail stick figure and started for the mansion. "Follow me then and arrange yer bonnet. The Russian princess is a 'ard one. We need all the 'elp we can 'ave. And what 'appened to yer boots?"
I winced. She noticed that I am still wearing my black military boots. It was still a bit muddy in contrast to the cream stockings. "This is the only good pair that I have, missus."
"One of the other girls probably 'ave something they've outgrown. We'll see after breakfast. And yer name, girly?" She looked back, her black eyes scrutinizing me.
"Heather," I stammered out. "Heather Brookes."
She spat out on the ground, the white glob hit a flower growing on the path. "Another fecking Scot."
I'm so sorry, Heather. You are probably a nice girl but I can't use my real name.
We entered the back of the mansion through a small wooden door at the side of the building. It was drafty and can only fit two people walking side by side but at the end of the passage, it opened to a busy kitchen. Men in black coats and maids wearing the same uniform as me rushed in and out of the kitchen carrying baskets and trays full of various foods. "Get the bread, girly. Earn yer coin."
I found the basket of bread that she was talking about. The circular loaves are brown and no bigger than a palm, still steaming from the oven. I felt my mouth water just from the scent of it. My stomach grumbling upon first sniff. They say that all you need to know about how bread tastes is from the smell of it. The basket is woven and I tested it, proving to be heavier than I thought but nothing that I could not handle. Following the train of other servants carrying pots of delicious smelling foods, we finally emerged to a grand hall.
On the ceiling were four chandeliers with light bulbs, a detail that did not escape my notice. Electricity already exists in this time period. We must be in the final decades of the 1800's then. This could be a good opportunity to gather materials. Wide floor length windows let in sunlight making everything in the room glow, thick curtains that looked to be hand painted themselves framed the sides. A long table spanning from one end of the room to the other was the main piece of furniture with chairs backed with red cushions. It was covered with white linen and all the richly dressed guests are already seated. Men wore double breasted vests with golden chains of pocket watches and the women wore dresses shaped with corsets. It's surreal. Lively conversation flowed throughout the room and none of them paid the servants any mind. I just have to blend in effectively and all will be well.
