Lady's maids -- Fiction; Love stories; Wessex (England) -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
From the same direction down the dell they could now hear the whistling
creak of cranks, repeated at intervals of half-a-minute, with a sousing
noise between each: a creak, a souse, then another creak, and so on
continually.
‘Now if anybody could make shift to live through the other sounds, these
would finish him off, don’t you think so, miss? That machine goes on
night and day, summer and winter, and is hardly ever greased or visited.
Ah, it tries the nerves at night, especially if you are not very well;
though we don’t often hear it at the Great House.’
‘That sound is certainly very dismal. They might have the wheel greased.
Does Miss Aldclyffe take any interest in these things?’
‘Well, scarcely; you see her father doesn’t attend to that sort of thing
as he used to. The engine was once quite his hobby. But now he’s getten
old and very seldom goes there.’
‘How many are there in family?’
‘Only her father and herself. He’s a’ old man of seventy.’
‘I had thought that Miss Aldclyffe was sole mistress of the property,
and lived here alone.’
‘No, m--’ The coachman was continually checking himself thus, being
about to style her miss involuntarily, and then recollecting that he was
only speaking to the new lady’s-maid.
‘She will soon be mistress, however, I am afraid,’ he continued, as if
speaking by a spirit of prophecy denied to ordinary humanity. ‘The poor
old gentleman has decayed very fast lately.’ The man then drew a long
breath.
‘Why did you breathe sadly like that?’ said Cytherea.
‘Ah!... When he’s dead peace will be all over with us old servants. I
expect to see the old house turned inside out.’
‘She will marry, do you mean?’
‘Marry--not she! I wish she would. No, in her soul she’s as solitary
as Robinson Crusoe, though she has acquaintances in plenty, if
not relations. There’s the rector, Mr. Raunham--he’s a relation by
marriage--yet she’s quite distant towards him. And people say that if
she keeps single there will be hardly a life between Mr. Raunham and the
heirship of the estate. Dang it, she don’t care. She’s an extraordinary
picture of womankind--very extraordinary.’
‘In what way besides?’
‘You’ll know soon enough, miss. She has had seven lady’s-maids this last
twelvemonth. I assure you ‘tis one body’s work to fetch ‘em from the
station and take ‘em back again. The Lord must be a neglectful party at
heart, or he’d never permit such overbearen goings on!’
‘Does she dismiss them directly they come!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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