Chapter Twenty-Four #2
The main storage area would stay the main storage area, she thought. And in a couple weeks, she’d dig out the Halloween decorations. But before that, yes, she’d do a similar hunt down here as she had in the attic, in the ballroom.
She moved through what she thought of as the downstairs world of servants and staff.
The space she’d chosen held, like the attic and ballroom, far too much. Organization would be key, which, she knew, meant organizing that main storage area in a way that made room for some of the rest.
It might mean moving some pieces to the attic, and hopefully finding others they could use upstairs.
In her mind, she emptied the space, removed everything inside it.
Then slowly, began to place what worked for her through her sketch pad.
She didn’t consider it overconfidence to believe they’d find everything they needed—save the pool table, pinball machine, whatever other games they wanted—right in the manor.
An old jukebox, she decided. Wouldn’t Clover have fun there? Keep it all as vintage as possible, at least in looks.
She heard Cleo on the stairs.
“I’m back here. It’s a great space, and I don’t want to make it modern and shiny. I really wish I could see it the way it was. Maybe we’ll find some photos. Then I’d get a good sense, be able to pay a little homage to the staff. And wouldn’t it be a kick to see Molly down here?”
“You forget how big this place is,” Cleo said as she worked her way through.
“Tell me about it.” Sonya turned to smile, and when she turned back, the mirror stood in front of her. “Cleo. The mirror.”
“Wait! Wait for me. Don’t go through.”
“It’s not pulling. It’s not like that demand.”
Moving fast, Cleo found her, took Sonya’s arm.
“Cleo, it feels like … an invitation.”
“You can say no, Sonya. Send your regrets. You’ve had enough for one day.”
“I … I want to go in. It feels like welcome. Don’t worry. It’s never hurt me.”
“I can text Owen. He’ll come, go with you.”
Sonya shook her head. “It’s for me. It feels like it’s for me. I can see movement. I can hear voices. Someone’s laughing. I have to go.”
“I’m texting Owen and Trey.”
“Don’t. Give me a few minutes first.” She handed Cleo her sketch pad. “I’ll be back.”
She stepped through.
And into the servants’ hall.
As they were now, the walls were paneled. But instead of white-draped furniture, the space held a long table. Two women in black dresses and white aprons and caps sat there, chatting away as they polished silver.
Another, older, wore gray like her hair. She sat in a chair by a small table sewing. Darning? Sonya wondered.
The older woman shook her head at the younger girls.
“You sound like a couple of chickens clucking. And over the new footman.”
“He’s very handsome,” the girl on the right said. And they both giggled.
A man walked in, wearing a black suit, a stiff white shirt. “I’d best not see streaks or spots on that silver.”
“No, sir, not a one.” The one with blond hair and freckles answered respectfully, even as she slid her gaze—with a little roll of her eyes—toward her companion.
A man—no suit jacket—sat across the room polishing boots. He sent the girls a cheeky grin, then quickly lowered his head when the suited man looked his way.
“The master had enough mud on these boots to build a dam.” His voice sounded British, but without the round tones of the older man. “But he’ll be able to see his face to shave in them when I’m done. I can promise you that.”
“See that’s a promise kept.”
A woman dressed in black came in, her hair in a tight, no-nonsense bun. She brought in a girl in a simple straw hat, a dark blue coat over a brown dress. Her brown boots looked well-worn but shining clean.
Under the hat, her deep red hair was held back and up in a thick roll. She had bright blue eyes, a scatter of freckles over a pretty face.
She carried a single small suitcase.
“Miss Molly O’Brian has joined the staff of Poole Manor as an undermaid. She’s just arrived from Ireland. Molly, Grimes is head butler.”
“Molly,” Sonya murmured as the girl—sixteen at a guess—gave a little curtsy.
“Welcome to Poole Manor. We have the highest standards, and trust you’ll meet them.”
“Sir. Sure and it’s a grand house, and I’m privileged to work in it. My best it will have, I promise you.”
The woman introduced the others. Mrs. Steele, Rory Bates, Gracie, and Frances.
“I’m pleased to meet all of you.”
“Grimes, I’ll take Molly up to her room, then bring her down to show her the kitchen and the rest.”
“As you say, Hobson.”
“Come, Molly, we’ll get you settled.” There was a kindness in her gesture. “Then you’ll meet more of the staff, and have a bite to eat. You’ve had a long journey.”
“Aye, ma’am, that I have, and an exciting one.”
“Molly,” Sonya said again as Hobson led her away.
Sonya heard her say, with awe in her voice, “Never have I seen such a grand and beautiful house as this. I’ll be doing my work with great pride, my word on it.”
Mrs. Steele went back to her darning as Grimes followed them out. “Another clucking chicken, I wager.”
“A pretty one,” Rory said with a grin.
“Just off the boat, from the sound of her,” Gracie commented.
“Her hat looked new,” Frances noted. “But that dress. A terrible color, and you could see where it had been let down.”
“And you’re the fashionable one?” Mrs. Steele snapped.
Gracie stifled a giggle. “That coat won’t keep out the cold once winter comes around. But she looked nice enough, and we can use another pair of hands, especially since Alice ran off.”
“Alice wasn’t any better than she had to be, and not often that. We’ll see how this one fares.”
Mrs. Steele set the darned sock aside, picked up another.
Wanting to see more, Sonya started forward. And the mirror, instead of standing behind her, blocked her way.
Now she felt a pull, this one drawing her back.
“All right, that’s all I get. But it’s a lot.”
She moved to the glass.
“What happened?” Cleo gripped her hands. “You weren’t gone two minutes.”
“Really? It was longer than that in there.”
“In where? No wait. Let’s go up.”
“Yeah, I could sit. Just a little dizzy. The servants’ hall. I saw it the way it used to be. It had to be a hundred years ago. The bells on the wall, all polished up. The lamps on the wall. Gaslight? I’m not sure.”
When she put a hand to her swimming head, Cleo took her arm.
“The walls were paneled, like they are now. A long table. Two maids were polishing silver. Gracie and Frances. Rory, a boy—couldn’t have been twenty—in a chair polishing boots. An older woman, Mrs. Steele, across the room darning. Smaller tables and chairs. I’ll know them if we find them.”
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I could sit.”
“You’ll sit. I’ll get you some water.”
With an arm around Sonya’s waist, Cleo led her back to the kitchen.
“The head butler—he struck me as a stickler. Grimes. And Hobson—she seemed kind under it. I think maybe head housekeeper.”
When she sat on a stool, Sonya let out another breath. “Better, already better. But Cleo, Hobson brought in another girl, young, so pretty. It was Molly.”
“Molly?” Cleo hurried back with a glass of water.
“I saw her. I heard her voice. She was a teenager, still in her traveling clothes, I guess. Dark red hair, bright blue eyes. When I’ve seen her in her room, when she’s dying …
I didn’t recognize her. You could just feel how happy and excited she was.
She already loved the manor, and that was clear, too. ”
“That’s—” Cleo dropped down on the next stool. “That’s amazing and wonderful.”
“It was. She was so young, so fresh, just glowing. I don’t know how long she lived and worked here before she died, but I absolutely believe she was happy.”
Clover used Bowie’s “Five Years” to answer.
“Five years. I hope they appreciated her like we do. It was different, Cleo, than most of the other times. I wasn’t pulled in, but invited.
And not to see death or Dobbs. But just to see daily life in the servants’ hall, and Molly’s arrival at the manor.
Still, coming back leaves me a little woozy. ”
“It has to cost you energy, doesn’t it? You’re actually moving through time. So, you come back a little depleted. But I swear, you were only gone about two minutes.”
“Longer over there, and that’s different, too. I would’ve been longer. I wanted to look around some more, but the mirror blocked my way, and then I felt a pull, but to come back through.”
“Then you saw what you needed to see.”
“Molly. The way the hall looked, but especially Molly.”
“Sketch her.” Cleo pushed the book over.
“Great idea. I can do that. Let me get a Coke first.”
“Sit. I’ve got it.”
“Something smells so good. Is that the bread! Wow, just wow.” Three golden loaves cooled on a rack. “Talk about amazing.”
“I’m feeling seriously smug about it.” Cleo handed Sonya a Coke, sat back down with her own.
“You know you can never go back to the routine of takeout and delivery.”
“And oddly, I’m okay with that.”
“For which I’m grateful. I’m going to say Molly’s about five-three, very slim. I’m guessing her hair’s long,” Sonya continued as she sketched. “But it was up in a roll. A heart-shaped face. She has freckles over milky skin. Pug nose, big, bright blue eyes, ah, just a little bit of an overbite.”
“She’s pretty. She’s got a sweet look about her.”
“Yes. Still a bud, you know? She hadn’t bloomed yet. More girl than woman when she first came here. Imagine leaving everything at that age to come to another country.”
“It takes courage.”
“I was nervous leaving home for college, and it was right in Boston. She crossed an ocean.”
“Now do one of her full-length, with these.” Cleo pulled open a drawer, got out colored pencils. “I’m going to put the water on for the pasta.”
“Is it that late?”
“I have to put the lasagna together, then it has to cook, then it needs to rest. So close enough.”
“It’s been a hell of a big day. I honestly believe we’re getting closer to real answers.”
Since Yoda sat by her stool, Sonya rubbed him gently with her foot as she drew.
“She had one suitcase, Cleo. The size I might pack for a long weekend. A new country, a new life, and she took everything from her before in one little suitcase.”
“Which means something I’d pack for an overnight.”
Sonya had to laugh. “Pretty much.”
“I admire that.” Cleo put a pot of water on to boil. “I admire her courage, what had to be a sense of adventure. And God knows her dedication to this house.”
As she spoke, she got out ricotta, mozzarella.
“I wonder if she’ll move on when the curse is broken. I’ve wondered if those who stay here, or at least some of them, are somehow caught up in that, and can’t move on.”
“I’ve wondered the same. I’d miss her.” Sonya drew the hat over the dark red hair. “Not just because we don’t have to even think about cleaning, or hiring a crew. But because there is that sweetness to her. You can feel it.”
“You can. Okay, I’m going out for more herbs. I want to put some in this cheese mix. And yes,” she said as both pets got up at the word out, “you can go.”
Alone, Sonya did her best to put Molly’s image on the page. She kept at it when Cleo came back, dealt with the herbs and cheese.
When the oven timer went off, she blinked, looked up.
“Cake’s done!”
“I forgot about the cake. It really is a celebration, and now we’ve got more to celebrate. This is Molly. As close as I can get.”
After setting the cake pan aside, Cleo came around the island to look.
“Sweet, pretty. There’s a sparkle to her, and you brought that out. We’re going to frame that, Son, put it in the gallery when we boot that bitch out of here.”
“That— Well, I love that idea. She belongs there. I’m so glad I got to see her, to hear her.
I’m going to sketch out the servants’ hall, too.
I’d started to sketch how I wanted it to be, and began thinking out loud how I wish I could see it the way it was, so we could pay some homage.
And I wish I could see Molly in there, so… ”
It struck, the simplicity of it struck like lightning.
“Cleo.”
“You wished it, and the mirror came to grant that wish. That’s a major holy shit, Sonya.” She gripped Sonya’s arm. “That’s why it invited you, that’s why it felt different. You asked for something.”
“And it didn’t let me go past that. It gave me a gift, but the gift had limits.” Sonya rubbed a hand on her chest. “It makes me a little breathless.”
“Join the crowd.”
“I think I have to be careful, not abuse it. Not be frivolous. This wasn’t frivolous. It was about the manor, wanting to honor it, about someone who takes such loving care of it. Now I’ve seen it, at least how it was in Molly’s time.”
“And I think that’s perfect.”
“So do I. We’ll take that back, too, and make it a happy place. I think it was, Cleo. I think it was a happy place.”
Sonya began to sketch again. “It’s a really big day.”
“And it’s not over yet. Here comes the rest of us.”