There had always been unsavoury rumours about Hill House. The people who lived there were said to be odd recluses who avoided all society beyond that of their servants. They had trouble keeping them there too. Employees usually left after a few months at best. They would depart for unspecified reasons, but they seldom kept quiet once they were gone and gossip spread swiftly.
People said Mary, the woman of the house, was quite mad with jealousy and that if one of her maids should look at her husband, Richard, she would fly at the girl in a mad rage. She was violent, they said, and possessive. She would cry and kick and scream, should he wish to leave her for a few hours to conduct business.
Not that he did. He seldom left the environs of the house but wandered around the gardens solemnly. Perhaps it was simply the only break he felt he could take from his wife. But there was something else, according to the excitable former employees. He would go up into the attic for hours by himself.
I supposed this was for much the same reason as his disconsolate wanderings: The poor man had made a mistake in his marriage, and now needed a break from his wife. But the rumour mills had more outlandish suggestions each time it was brought up.
Some supposed that he had a mistress hidden away in the house, the only way to sneak her by his jealous wife. Others said he was insane too. His voice was often heard up in the attic, but there was never any reply. Perhaps he was mad and conducted conversations with himself... The suggestions of the gossips became more and more ridiculous, until no one would go to work for them.
But by this time, I had long ago ceased to listen to the rumours. They had become far too far-fetched to be true. This was not an opinion shared by my sisters, who urged me to take the job.
Too scared themselves, but sure that there was something sensational would be uncovered in the house, they nagged.
'Oh, go on, you always say you're desperate for a job, that'd be a way in. And think of the extra money you could make if you sold their story! Everyone's dying to hear it!' Emily encouraged.
I admit that that idea was attractive. Not because of greed, particularly, but because the idea of seeing my name in print had always interested me. If I had known what ungodly things I would have to endure, I might have been a little more sensible. But I wasn't, and I applied.
It was not a hard job to get. They had no other servants there, besides an elderly gardener who occasionally popped in, and no other applicants. A house like that needs attending to. So, I moved up there as soon as possible
My room was a small one, just off the kitchen. I think it was a relic of times long past, the Victorian era or some such time. Probably because it resembled a cell to me. There was a narrow, lumpy little iron-framed bed, an old, chipped basin, and a cracked mirror. There was nothing else. I dumped my suitcase in this dubious abode, as instructed by Mary.
This much discussed lady had met me at the door, looked me up and down and sniffed, as though I was barely suitable. Then she had wordlessly pointed me through to my room. Now, I supposed, I would have to seek her out to find out what exactly my new job would entail.
When I convened with her in the drawing room at last, she made my head spin with orders.
"You need to be up at 5:30 am to get the grates cleaned and the fires lit. Then clean the kitchen before you start making the tea. We want our tea and breakfast in the dining room at 7 am." She told me sharply. "Then I'll check on the kitchen to see that is in order," She glowered at me, as if warning me that she wouldn't tolerate it not being. My head started to swim as she carried on... "Then you will start preparing for..."
On and on she went, the rest of the long, long day broken down into what seemed like hundreds of monotonous and painful tasks, until my day finally finished at 9.30pm. Then she set me to work.
