From a Fire

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Downstairs

September 16, 1927

I'm awake by the time that Daisy comes in to light the fires. We never replaced the position after Wilma, the former scullery maid, left.

"Good morning, Daisy," I say as I sit up.

Daisy jumps a little, nearly hitting her head on the inside top of the fireplace, "Good morning, m'lady. I am so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I'm sure that you didn't," I reply, smiling at her. "I was awake before you even came in."

Daisy nods and continues to quickly build up a fire. When she leaves, I lay there, listening to the fire crackle happily inside of the fireplace. With the sound of the crackling, I think of Paul, how he burned inside of his own house.

I try to get some more sleep, but with the fire going, safely in the fireplace, it worries me so much. I wait about half an hour, before I know for certain that I can't stand the sound any longer.

I climb out of bed, and slide my dressing gown over my nightgown. I slid my silken slippers onto my feet and quickly get dressed. I couldn't bear to be in a room with a warm crackling fire when my brother died in one.

I wandered down to the big hall, and walked around there for a little bit. I rarely ever do this now, but I often did it with Mary, Edith, and Sybil when they were young. I head toward the stairs, the ones that lead to the kitchens and servants' hall.

There is hub-bub downstairs, Mrs. Patmore is yelling at Daisy, like usual, according to Mrs. Hughes, Anna, and Baxter. I can hear her before I even reach the bottom stair on the staircase. Baxter is sitting at the table, sewing, as Anna sits across from her, holding her sleeping son, Johnny, on her lap.

I walk down the hall toward the kitchen, where Mrs. Patmore has finally stopped yelling at poor Daisy. Mrs. Hughes comes out of the hall, where her sitting room is, surprised to see me, and is even more shocked to see me dressed, not in my normal attire, but rather dressed in a deep purple dress that I put on myself, and my hair still in its braid.

"How may I help, your Ladyship?" Mrs. Hughes asks, as she joins me on the short walk to the kitchen. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No, Mrs. Hughes," I reply, as we reach the kitchen. "I just couldn't sleep."

"Do you want me to send Baxter up?" Mrs. Hughes asks.

"No, I'll ring in a little bit. I might try to do some reading," I reply.

"DAISY!" Mrs. Patmore shouts, as she kneads some bread dough. "You have to stir the porridge! Lady Rose likes it that way!"

I give a small laugh, but succeed in mostly suppressing it. I can't look over at Mrs. Hughes, in fear that she is also trying not to laugh. I suppose that Daisy finished with all of the fires and headed back downstairs to try not to get yelled at by Mrs. Patmore.

"Mrs. Patmore," Mrs. Hughes says, walking over to the front of the work bench. "Be easier on the girl!"

Mrs. Patmore glances up, and is startled to see me, "Oh, your Ladyship! I am so sorry, I didn't know you were there."

"Mrs. Patmore," I say calmly. "I would like to confirm that you'll go over the menus later today."

"Y-y-yes," Mrs. Patmore replies, kneading the dough again. "Just come down when it is convenient for you."