The Wolves Belong Underground

Chaper 2

As per the request of the master, Mr. Clarke showed Maria to the servant's quarters. Found on the first floor, nestled away in the left corner of the manor. Due to the lack of staff, she was given her own room. Something she never had. It was a simple room; a small bed in the corner of the room, a fireplace at the other end of the room, a writing desk and a tiny wardrobe with a dirty and cracked mirror on top. A maid's uniform was laid out for her on the bed. Mr. Clarke handed her the list of chores and times they must be done. The list nearly rolled down to the end of the floor it was so long. She wondered if there was a Lady of the manor, maybe even some children living about the house. Yet the manor was silent. Hardly any sign of life besides Mr. Clarke and her new master.
She really didn't know much about her master, though the last name sounded familiar. She recalled hearing about a Lord Archer Wolfsbane, it could have easily been his father. From what she knew he was a stern and brute general, leading many men during war with his strategic battles. She could sense some of the resemblance between the two.
She set her suitcase down and took a closer look at her list. She was to start her work at six in the morning, starting off with polishing the silver, setting the table and serving the master his breakfast. Her lips tightened at this. She had to admit, she was hoping to avoid him as much as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was slip up around him. She did lie to him; she was awful at cleaning. To her credit, she hardly had time to clean back at home. Her sister was most likely better at it since she spent more time at home. But she couldn't bring herself to send her sister away for a job like this. She was too young, too naïve at fourteen years of age. At least Maria knew she was safe and looked after back in London. Now Maria had no choice but to learn how to clean and look after a home. It could come as useful in the future when she is a wife and must stay to look after her own home.
The next morning Maria awoke before the sun did, the room dimly lit from the late-night embers weakly burning in the fireplace. After washing her face and putting up her hair, she changed into her maid's uniform. A bit loose on her, but she hoped she would eventually become as large as her new paycheck. After pinning back her thick, jet-black hair she was ready for her first day. It was a maze trying to find the kitchen. From what she could tell the manor was laid out circling the grounds. From the front windows she could not only see the lawn (a bit overgrown) and the rest of the manor, swarming the lands as though to swallow it whole, connecting to the stone entrance that held the mighty iron gates. This manor was more of a castle, Maria thought to herself. A whole castle she must take care of alone. It was going to be a long week.
She finally was successful and found the kitchen. Two cooks were already prepping breakfast. One cook, a woman, preparing cheese turnovers and weak tea. The other, a man, making what could only be the masters. The smell of ham, fresh bread, eggs and sausage overpowered the measly turnovers. Maria's mouth salivated, the thought of eating delicious, fresh ham made her weak in the knees.
"Mornin," The woman greeted, turning Marias attention away from the food "You the new maid?"
"I am. I'm Maria." She introduced herself.
"Anne." She said with a nod. "The master will be up soon. Get something to eat then hurry back when Horace over there is finished. You don't want to keep him waiting."
"Course," She helped herself to a turnover, but she didn't have much of an appetite. Horace suddenly shoved a tray into her hands filled with food.
"Teas on the cart, best hurry or we'll all get it." He grumbled.
"Oh," she dropped her tart and stumbled to hold the tray steady. "Yes, right away."
Next to the entrance was a silver cart, a porcelain tea pot and cups laid on top waiting to be delivered to the dining room. She placed the tray on the cart and pushed it out and into the hallway. Thankfully for her, the dining room wasn't too far from the kitchen. There she entered, decorated with royal blue wallpaper, silver framed portraits and the longest dining table she had ever seen. And yet, way at the end of the table sat Zorath, his nose tucked in a newspaper and a cigarette pinched between his fingers. She wheeled the cart over to him, his presence alone making her feel uneasy.
"Goodmorning, Master." she greeted as cheerfully as she could.
"Hmph." was his only response as he folded up his newspaper. Maria pressed her lips together for a moment, feeling awkward and tense by his cold demeanor. She placed his food in front of him, trying to be quick so she could do her job and leave him be. She set a tea cup and saucer down, then taking the hot teapot and poured his tea.
"Do you want any milk or sugar?" she asked him. He didn't answer, simply picking up his silverware and began cutting his food. She furrowed her eyes brows at his silence
"...Sir?" she asked, puzzled. He stopped suddenly, his eyes glaring at her coldly. She was taken aback, not understanding what she did to deserve such a deadly look.
"I'm fine. You may leave me now." He mumbled and turned his attention back to his food. She held her tongue, her cheeks growing hot with anger. What a rude, pompous man, she thought to herself. She forced a smile and stepped back to her cart.
"Wonderful, enjoy." she said, her voice coated in honey and left the dining room. Her smile instantly went away the moment she was away from him, gripping the handles of the cart. She quickly realized mealtimes will be her least favorite part of the day from now on.