My Dearest Josephine

2: Polly Nichols

January 25th, 1888

Polly had only been a servant for the Chester household for a few years, but she was very fond of her employers. What made her different from the rest of the staff was that she never gossiped, and her ears always heard more than they should. She had always been an attentive listener.

Derek was such an interesting man, it seemed like he always had something new to say. Recently, he had stopped speaking altogether. He spent the day writing- she wasn't sure what exactly, but assumed it was letters or pieces of poetry- and spent the night sitting in silence. It wasn't like him at all; but she couldn't blame him. The tragedy had even gotten to Josephine, the woman was a mess! However, there was something she simply could not put her finger on. His sadness bothered her, for it seemed like something greater haunted him.

Guilt, she suspected, but reluctantly shook it off. It wasn't anyone's fault, it was just a horrible thing that had happened. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Derek and Josephine's only son James, who seemed so desolate and bereft.

"What's on your mind Jim?" Polly asked, approaching the lonely child. He shrugged and let out a quick sigh, his closed mouth slanted.

"I'm a bit confused, that's all." He confessed, rubbing his tired eyes.

Polly sat on the last step of the stairs and asked him to continue. James dug his hands deeply in his pockets, finding a way to begin.

"It's many things, you see," he began, looking down at his shoelaces as he spoke. "Mother hasn't laughed in ages, and she's always laughing. Father hasn't told me a story either, and- I know my little brother is dead, but I never got to see him. I went and asked Father yesterday night why he never let me see Walter, and he stayed quiet. I knew I wouldn't get an answer, closed the door, sat on the other side of it, and heard him cry. He never cries, you know. I don't know why this is all happening."

Polly had been stroking him affectionately, trying to make the boy feel better. "Darling, it seems like you're the one who's just about to cry."

"No. Don't get me wrong, I'm sad, but I'm not as sad as I am confused. And- to make things stranger- when Father locks himself in his office, I hear him curse the French. What do the French have to do with anything?"

"I'd be confused too. I wasn't aware he had a problem with- the French, you say? This is news to me." 

"Not really the French people, it's something the French have. He always says 'That damned France's...' when he thinks no one's around."

"That sounds more like Frances, like a name." Polly chuckled at the way he mimicked Derek's angry tone. James grinned, proud of his acting. It was then that the pair both heard a nearby door suddenly slam shut. His face dropped and he jumped at the sound, startled. Doors were hardly ever slammed in the Chester household.

"Speak to me, won't you? I'm desperate! You know I only want to help you!" They heard. Either the walls were very thin or Josephine was very angry.

"That's Mother. She's screaming." James pointed out. At first he was glad that his mother was actually speaking, but her tone was hysterical, and it worried him even more. "I knew they would fight. I had a feeling."

"I am talking to you, Derek! Don't pretend you can't hear me! Goodness, you've become a shell of a human being! What the hell have I ever done to you?"

Polly stood, and motioned for James to follow her up the stairs, but he wanted to stay and listen. She hissed his name under her breath, commanding him to obey her.