The Disgraced Servant

In candlelight, she fastened her apron before the mirror. Her reflection nodded back at her. “You’re no beauty, Eleanor. Certainly not with those grey eyes and horrendously wood-brown hair. But there’s nothing wrong with strong shoulders and a nimble frame. And at least your hair could be mistaken for gold and eyes for silver when the light doesn’t fall upon them.”

She nodded once more, then departed for the short walk to the kitchen. There was oh-so-much to do on banquet days, and two things alone provided any silver lining of note: there would be plenty of dashing young men to look at, and the leftovers from the meal could be feasted on afterwards… assuming there were no mishaps.

Eleanor could never forget the public berating and the loss of a week’s wages she received as punishment when caught daydreaming while serving a meal. She’d simply wondered whether the foreign visitor had seen any magnificent lions on his travels. He’d spoken so fondly of his time on the African savannas, that he was sure to have-

“Eleanor! Move your feet girl!” Miss Brenda ordered in a harsh whisper. “How is it that you sleep no more than thirty feet from the kitchens and still cannot make it there without getting caught up in a daydream? You’re a foolish girl who doesn’t appreciate the privilege she has to work for such an opulent couple in such a beautiful home.”

Eleanor began to protest, but Miss Brenda wouldn’t have it. “Move your feet.”

There wasn’t really any purpose in protesting anyway, she knew. There was work to be done, and in this instance she had been in the wrong, as she often was. Eleanor knew she dreamed of the beautiful world outside because she was unworthy to see it for herself. Even if she tried, she wouldn’t last a day on her own.

•

The day passed well, and through great struggle, Eleanor stayed focused and efficient in her work. She set the tables, carefully crafted the mushroom soup, swept and dusted the three rooms she was assigned to, and laid out Madame Margene’s best gown for her.

She served at the banquet and refrained with all her might from fantasizing about the dashing young men in attendance from the business university on the other side of town.

That is, until late in the meal when a young man with thick black hair, blazing blue eyes, and a mischievous smile met her gaze. She looked away quickly, determined to avoid distractions, and anticipating a soon-to-be-had leftover feast for a dinner. As the meal ended and the guests moved to the ballroom for conversations and dancing, Eleanor began to clean up the meal.

She’d already returned half the dishes to the kitchen when someone entered the dining room. Eleanor hid her face after the smallest of glances. Of course it was him. She continued her chore with diligence, hoping to appear oblivious.

“So, this is how the staff treat guests to the house?”