Edith's New
Governess
By HandPrince
Chapter 11.
Lily Tells A Story
With a stubborn groan of metal upon
metal, the dumbwaiter mechanism slowed, then
stopped.
Edith tugged upon the cord with all her
might but to no avail. Clearly the hoist in
this unused section of Wippingham Manor's east wing
had languished long without its pulley axles
receiving so much as a drop of oil. Stifling
her rising sense of panic, she cast her eyes about
in hope they might land upon a source of
inspiration.
They did. Flinging aside the
sheet covering a wicker chair, she quickly dragged
it next to the dumbwaiter cord, stood upon it,
grasped the cord, leapt free of the chair and hung
upon the cord with her full weight. After a
few moments of faint creaking the mechanism yielded,
lurching the rising compartment of the dumbwaiter
sharply upward, and landing Edith disheveled upon
the floor. She quickly regained her footing
and pulled several times upon the cord until the
dumbwaiter's compartment rose into view and- "Miss
Edith!" "It worked, Lily!" boasted Edith, giving no
indication of how closely her plan had come to
disaster, "just as I knew it would!" Edith
helped Lily, curled up in fetal attitude, to squirm
her way out of the compartment, onto the wicker
chair and onto her feet.
After a hasty curtsy to Edith, Lily
wonderingly surveyed the richly-carpeted room filled
with sheet-covered furniture, and lined along its
walls with sheet-covered paintings. "Where are
we, Miss Edith?" she exclaimed. Edith
explained that they were on the upper floor and that
no one ever comes to this section of the house so
the two of them needn't fear discovery. She
then led the little scullery maid to a sheet-covered
sofa and bade her sit. First Lily spun herself
around once, and chirped, "Look at me new frock,
Miss Edith!"
Edith, who had a wardrobe filled with
dresses equaling or exceeding it, nodded
indifferently. Lily, disappointed at Edith's
response, said, "Miss Field 'ad it made for me
special. Powerful kind lady she is!"
"Miss Field is wicked and cruel!"
snapped Edith. "Just yesterday she made me eat
every bit of awful cold ptarmigan or she said she
would given me an awful smackbottom. And when
I got sick and vomited it all up, she told nanny I
mustn't have a bite to eat until breakfast so I went
to bed with an empty stomach. I've never been
hungry like that before!"
"I 'ave," murmured Lily pensively,
almost to herself, as she took her seat towards the
opposite end of the sofa.
"Well you shan't be hungry this
afternoon," announced Edith, who then reached into
one of her voluminous hair bows and drew forth from
concealment several purloined sugarplums. She
set them on the sofa between them, and handed one to
Lily, who devoured it with delight as Edith consumed
one of her own. "You are fortunate to have no
governess, Lily. Governesses are all horrid
creatures. Just last night, I had to get all
frocked up for a fancy lord and lady Mama had over
for dinner. That grand lady told me that when she
was my age her governess used to lock her in a dark
closet and whip her with a birch rod so hard she
bled."
"But Miss Field wouldn't
never do nothin' like that, now would she!"
asserted Lily, indignant at the suggestion that her
adored Miss Field could ever qualify as "horrid."
Aside from what she had already
experienced first hand, Edith knew nothing of Miss
Field's capabilities with regard to
punishments. She dearly wished Lily right, but
longed to know with certainty that no locked closets
or birchings lay in her future. Should Edith
ask? But what if Edith's query provided Miss
Field with novel inspiration for trying out such
methods on Edith, methods she might otherwise never
have thought to employ?
Banishing thoughts of birches and
closets from her mind for the time being, Edith
asked, "When did you last have to go to bed without
your dinner?"
"It weren't long ago - just
'afore I came to work 'ere it was. Me mum an' me we
were-" Lily checked herself. "I'm sorry Miss
Edith. I'm not allowed to talk 'bout before we come
'ere. Me mum'll gi' me a leatherin' just as sure as
it's Sunday!"
Gazing longingly at the little cache of
sweets spread on the sofa, Lily asked if she might
have another one. Edith sniffed haughtily as
she had oftentimes seen her mother do.
"Servants should be grateful for whatever members of
the family give them. It is most improper for
them to ask for still more," she declared, helping
herself to another sugarplum. Lily sighed
dejectedly, looked down at her lap, then wistfully
at Edith, then back to her lap again. An
awkward silence of several seconds followed, broken
only by the faint sounds of Edith chewing.
"You can tell me, Lily,"
prompted Edith once she had swallowed the last
nibble of her sugarplum. "I shan't tell your
mother. You know I shan't. I've
never even met her!" Lily merely shook
her head, plainly in no mood to place herself at
risk in the interest of extending to
sugarplum-hoarding Edith any special favor.
"If you tell," wheedled Edith, holding up one of the
uneaten sweets, "I shall let you have this."
After several assurances of utmost secrecy on
Edith's part, Lily accepted the confection and
promptly consumed it with relish while Edith did
likewise with yet another sugarplum of her own.
"It were a few days 'afore me an'
me mum first come 'ere. We was under a bridge
for the night on account of it were rainin'
see? And we didn't 'ave no blanket nor no food
neither."
"Oh! Lily! That's
perfectly dreadful! Why didn't you and your
mother go home?"
"Run away from 'ome, we 'ad."
"What on Earth could have
possessed you and your mother to run away from your
home and sleep under a bridge?" exclaimed Edith in
astonishment.
"We 'ad to says me mum.
Thems as lived there 'ad a plan for me that me mum
said were a very bad one, and she wouldn't stand for
it. But they told 'er she 'ad to let them put
me into their plan and mum 'ad no say as it were
bound to 'appen whether she'd like it or not, says
they."
"What sort of place was it??"
"A gentlemen's 'ouse it were.
Mrs. Baudelaire were the missus, an' there were two
other ladies as lived there aside from me and me
mum. I can't remember when I didn't live
there."
"So the lady of your house was French?"
asked Edith, and then, "how many gentlemen lived
there?"
"Oh there weren't no gentlemen as lived
there, just ladies. And Mrs. Baudelaire would
talk all French-like when one o' them gentlemen come
to visit. But the rest o' the time she'd just
talk regular. When a gentlemen would come,
mummy and them other two ladies would sit in the
parlour and 'e'd choose one of them, or sometimes
two, and then they'd go upstairs."
"What did they do upstairs?"
"I don't rightly know, just that they
made gentlemen 'appy, and them gentlemen paid good
coin to get themselves all 'appy-like. Me mum
said I weren't to ask 'er no more questions about
that as I would learn all I needed to whens I gots
older."
Edith frowned with puzzlement,
keen to tear aside the veils shrouding this mystery,
but at a loss as to whom and in what manner she
might inquire without opening herself to questions
which might reveal her current illicit liaison with
Lily. "Were the other ladies nice to you?"
"Nice enough I s'pose, just as
long as I did me work and didn't slack off and get
me bum skelped. I 'ad to scrub floors and wash
dishes an' such."
"Much like the work Cook makes
you do now," observed Edith, starting on another
sugarplum. "But why did you and your mother
run away, and sleep under a bridge with no food??"
Lily looked longingly at the
dwindling supply of sugarplums. Then with a
twinkle in her eye, she declared, "I can't rightly
remember just now. But another one 'o them
sugarplums'd jog me memory right proper I'd wager!"
"I don't believe you," scolded
Edith sternly. "I think you remember perfectly
well and you just told a deliberate falsehood simply
to try to make me give you something which isn't
rightly yours!"
Lily shrugged her shoulders in a
parody of helplessness, then made her eyes cross
while scratching her head in an absurd impression of
someone at a loss to remember. Edith began
laughing in spite of her intention to remain stern,
quickly followed by Lily as well. Once the
children's mirth subsided, Edith handed Lily one of
the sugarplums, took one for herself, and motioned
for Lily to continue.
"It 'appened one evening when I'd
filled the coal scuttle in our cellar and I'd taken
it up stairs one step at a time, it bein' 'eavy and
all. It were bound for the fire in our
parlour. And when I went in wi' the coal, me
mum and the other ladies were all there and a
gentleman I 'adn't seen before were there too,
lookin' them over and decidin' which of 'em 'e would
take upstairs to make 'im 'appy.
"Then 'e looks at me, 'is eyes all
wide-like. Says 'e, "'is she on
offer?" Me mum shouts at 'im, "no she ain't no
how!" Then she turns on me, 'er face all
angry-like and yells at me to go to me room right
now an' get in me bed."
"So you were in trouble?" asked
Edith. "But why?"
"I didn't rightly know," replied Lily
sadly. "But I run off to me cot like she told
me to do, and lay there a-cryin' on account of I
thought I would catch an awful whippin' soon, but I
'adn't a notion as to what I 'd done wrong to make
mummy so cross wi' me. All I knew was it 'ad
to 'ave been something awful bad I done."
As mysteries coalescing around
Lily's story multiplied, Edith imagined herself
lying on her feather bed in the night nursery,
knowing that Miss Field would soon arrive and whip
her, and her heart went out to poor Lily. At
least Miss Field always told Edith beforehand what
she had done to earn her chastisements.
"I got out o' me clothes except
for me shift for sleepin' in. And then I 'eard
shouting. I quit me crying and poked me 'ed
out the door to try an' make out what they was all
a-shoutin' about, but I couldn't 'ear no words, just
voices. And me mum's and Mrs. Baudelaire's
were loudest of all. 'Avin' the collie shangles they
were! And they kep' at it and the more they
kep' at it the angrier they got. Then I 'eard
fast footsteps comin' me way and I thought me mum
was fixin' to tan me bum so I run back into me bed
an' put the covers over me.
"So in she comes and I never seen
'er so mad 'afore. Powerful scared I were! But
she didn't whip me. Instead she leaned the
back of a chair 'gainst the doorknob so the door
couldn't push in. And then they was a-knockin'
'ard on the door and tellin 'er to open up but that
chair stopped them. She pulls me covers off
and whispers that we gots to be out of there fast
and to look smart."
Edith was on the edge of her
seat. What a ripping yarn - just like in
books! But in a book Edith would have had a
better understanding of why such drama was
unfolding.
"She 'elped me back into me frock
an' apron and then she starts yelling towards the
door "y' can't 'ave 'er! I'm 'er mum and I says No
and that's an end of it! And I don't care a pin if
that toff offers the crown jewels, I don't!"
She shouted them words as she were liftin' the
window sash so's they couldn't 'ear 'er doin'
it. Then Mrs. Baudelaire was sayin' 'think o'
all them nice new frocks an' toys an' pretty things
y' could buy 'er wi' yer share o' that 'undred pound
note Lord Reddend says 'e'll pay. Don't ye want that
for 'er?'"
"Didn't your mother want you
to have pretty frocks and toys?" asked Edith,
puzzled, and wondered what Mama's dinner guest of
the previous evening could possibly have wanted with
Lily.
"Not if it meant lettin' them put me
into their plan wi' that posh gentleman she
didn't. So as she were liftin' me out o' the
window, she yells "me sprog'll 'ave a better life
than mine if I gots to die makin' that 'appen." Then
she climbs out after me, picks me up on 'er back and
takes off runnin', faster than I ever thought me mum
could run, 'specially carryin' me and all."
"You must have been so dreadfully
scared!" gasped Edith.
"Actually, I weren't much scared
'cause I'd worked out by then as it weren't meself
mummy were cross with, but the Missus. So I
wasn't 'bout to catch a whippin' from 'er after
all."
"Where did you go next?
Your father? Your grandparents?" asked Edith,
and began nibbling on one of the last sugarplums.
"I never knew me dad. Me
mum says 'e's a deceitful no-good and 'e's gone away
permanent since 'afore I were born and not to ask
'er no questions 'bout 'im. And me mum's mum
and dad don't want 'er no more on account o' 'er
'avin' me when she weren't all proper married like."
Edith then remembered her
original question which had first set Lily's story
into motion. "So that was when you and
your mum slept under a bridge with no dinner!"
Lily nodded. "Weren't you cold??" Lily
nodded again. "And then you came here?"
"Oh no," replied Lily.
"Early next morning me mum carried me on 'er back to
the work'ouse. I tried to walk but stones in
the road 'urt me feet."
"Because," concluded Edith aloud, "you
hadn't time to put on your shoes, because Mrs.
Baudelaire and those other ladies were after
you." At least one piece of Lily's
puzzle had fallen into place. Edith had heard
of workhouses, although she had never seen
one. By all accounts they were grim places and
kept that way so only the most desperately poor
would resort to going there. "So you lived in
the workhouse?"
"I thought we would, especially
when I spied a man as looked familiar and who seemed
like an important fellow in that place. Then I
recognized 'im as one of them gentlemen as come to
our 'ouse regular. I 'adn't recognized 'im
first off without 'is mustache. An odd
mustache I always thought it were, as it were almost
the same colour as 'is 'air, but not quite.
And 'e were dressed as a vicar now, wi' a backward
collar and the lot! I were powerful glad to
see 'im on account of 'ow 'e were always kind to me
when 'e would visit; and e'd pat me on me 'ed and
give me a sweet every time he came and tell me to
make certain I always said me prayers. I
thought for sure e'd be our friend an' look after us
proper. But when I let on as I recognized 'im,
'e looked at me and me mum all 'orrible like. Says
'e, 'be off and never come back!'" Lily
stopped abruptly and hung her head, her eyes
moistening.
"Don't cry, Lily!" urged Edith.
"Here. You may have the last sugarplum to cheer you
up!" Lily smiled weakly as she accepted the
treat and began to slowly nibble on it, making it
endure as long as possible.
Once the last of her sugarplum had
gone, Lily continued, "we was both of us powerful
'ungry. But me mum said she weren't about to
go beggin' as she still 'ad 'er pride and
that. I 'ad me shift on under me frock that
I'd 'ad on the night before for going to bed in.
Mummy got it off me, tore it in strips and wrapped
it 'round me feets so's I could walk, on account of
how we's got to hoof it to the work'ouse at
Cherrybun Crossing which were nigh on twenty miles
away. Mum reckoned as no one would likely know
us there."
"Oh dear me," exclaimed Edith,
"such a frightfully long way. And you without
proper shoes and nothing to eat! At least you
had plenty of daylight ahead of you. Were you
able to get there before dark?"
"We never did get there," Lily
replied. "We'd gone 'alf an hour on the road
when this cart come by 'edding into town. And
drivin' it were a gentleman as come to the 'ouse and
always liked me mum best for makin' 'im 'appy
upstairs. When 'e learned what as 'appened to
us, 'e said 'e'd 'elp us. So 'e turned back
round and 'edded back to where 'e'd come, and me and
me mum 'id under potato sacks so we wouldn't get 'im
into no trouble.
"Where did he take you?" asked
Edith excitedly, wishing she could have thrilling
adventures like Lily's, aside from the barefoot and
hungry and cold parts.
" 'E were stable master at a big
country 'ouse, and 'e took us to 'is cottage.
Powerful kind 'e was. Fed us 'til we was fit
to burst. And that night 'e fixed me up wi' a
cot close by the fire all warm and snug like.
And 'e were even kinder to me mum! 'E even let
'er sleep in 'is own bed wi' 'im!" Lily hopped
off the sofa and dashed to the window to scan the
surrounding countryside. After a few moments,
she pressed her left cheek to the glass and looking
as far to the right as possible, pointed and
exclaimed, "There it be! That's were we come
from that day! Come 'av a look Miss Edith!"
Edith rose from the sofa.
"Step away from the window!" she commanded with a
frown. "If someone in the park looks up and
sees us together and tells Mama, I shall be
punished!" Looking a bit hurt by Edith's sharp
tone, Lily murmured an apology and stepped
away. Pressing her cheek to the window as Lily
had done, Edith saw at once that she had pointed to
Sternburne Place, the nearest country house to
Wippingham, atop a knoll two miles off.
Edith regained her seat on the sofa and
urged Lily to continue once she had regained hers.
"Next day the stablemaster gentleman
were fixin' to ride us to Cherrybun in 'is cart, but
then 'e 'eard from 'is groom as 'ow the scullery
maid 'ere at Wippin'am got the chuck on account of
'er and that groom bein' caught kissin' in the
garden."
So that
must be what "spooning" means, thought Edith
triumphantly.
"Then 'im and me mum set to makin' up a
letter sayin' as 'ow we was first rate scullery
maids wi' loads of 'sperience an' 'ow we was of good
character and 'ard workers 'an honest Christians and
that. And then 'e pointed Wippin'am to us and
tol' us to start walkin' as 'e couldn't be seen
droppin' us off 'ere. So we sets off, straight
through the fields until we-"
Two heads wheeled towards the sound of
the door opening. And there, to their horror,
regarding them both with consternation, stood the
terrible presence of Miss Field.
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(c)
Copyright 2024 by HandPrince
This is fiction. Please don't
discipline
your children this way.
For permission to reprint:
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