I Am Bree - Book 1

Chapter 6 - Servant

It was still dark when Ava woke me. She mumbled an apology and disappeared into the darkness. It was cold in my room—colder than I'd have thought was possible—, and I shivered as I dressed. My fingers were so numb that it took several tries to button my dress.

Fumbling with my apron strings would only waste time, so I went without. Greta had left a neatly folded stack of traditional servant's clothes on my bedside table the night before. The dresses were worn and patched, but I liked them better than my hand-me-down finery.

It was only after I crept down the rickety attic stairs that I dared to look at the list Madame had given me. At my first glance, I groaned in despair. There was no way I could finish a quarter of the tasks before noon. In fact, I was sure that such a list could take a week of non-stop work to complete.

Despair clutched at me as I descended the stairs to the kitchen. There was nothing for it. I would be punished severely, and given another task equally as difficult. Still, there was some hope within me that Greta would be able to give me some sort of help.

To my intense surprise, however, Greta barely gave the paper a cursory glance. She motioned for me to take a seat, hardly stilling in her morning work. A plate of breakfast was put in front of me, but I didn't feel like eating.

"I looked at it last night after you went to sleep." She admitted after a moment. "I knew she wouldn't make it easy for you, but I didn't expect her to lay it all on you like this." Her jaw tightened, and I could tell she was holding back her anger. "There'll be sure to be some sort of punishment in store for you if that isn't done in time."

Turning away from me, Greta opened a boiling bot on the stove. I heard her muttering harshly as she waited for the steam to escape before sticking her long-handled spoon into the mixture and stirring it thoroughly.

"Then what am I to do?" I stared helplessly at the food on my plate.

"Well, first off, you eat that breakfast before it gets cold. I spent a good bit of time getting it ready for you, and I'm not about to see it go to the hogs." We had no hogs, but it was her way of trying to lighten my mood.

Her soothing presence as much as the words helped ease my worry—if only a little. I ate as much as I could and tried to tell myself that this wasn't reality, that I was trapped in a dream, that it would all go away soon, but the list of chores beside me forced me to set all such thoughts aside. This was my reality now.

Greta bustled about the kitchen for a few more minutes before sitting beside me. She wiped her forehead with the back of a work-toughened hand and smiled at me. Donning her spectacles, she stared at the list, her eyes thoughtful and calculating.

"It'll take a good three hours to clean all the rugs, but that can't be done in the dark. I suppose the thing to do is go over this list and do what you can now." She sighed. "I'd send Ava to help you, but Madame has made out a similar sort of list for us to complete before the end of the week."

"I'm sorry, Greta." I spoke softly, my voice low, to keep from crying. Father never would have treated the staff this poorly.

"Don't be, my lass." She covered my hand with her own. "I just wish there was something I could do. She ought to know better than to do this. It'll make the neighbors suspect." She stared off into space, her eyes narrowing slightly, and I had a feeling she was talking more to herself than to me.

"Suspect what?" I took the list, scanning it with renewed strength. When all else failed, I could say that I had tried and know it to be true.

"Huh? Oh, nothing, love. You'd better get a move on." She deftly waved off my curiosity, stowing her glasses in her apron pocket and returning to her work.