The Sun and Moon and Stars

Chapter III

The bed creaked as Frances sat up and threw the covers off her legs. The dawn barely shone through the curtain-less window, blue and purple light lazily hanging over the land. 

She stood up and shivered as the cold of the floor seeped into her feet. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out with the comb resting on the dresser. A gift from her mother on her fifteenth birthday, it was made of ivory and had been inlayed with turquoise gemstones webbed in dark blue lattice. She pulled the grey striped work dress she usually wore for cleaning back at home, struggling with the buttons that ran from her hips to the top of her back. Her boots slipped onto her feet and her hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. And she left her room, she slipped the envelope laying beside the comb into her pocket. 

The hallway was quiet and Frances pressed an ear against the children’s door. Silence. They were still fast asleep.

Mr. Fellowes’--Julian’s--room was quiet, and the door hung open a few inches. Frances hastily glanced inside. It was empty. She glanced out the hall window. Judging but the direction and brightness of the light, she knew sunrise had commenced. Breakfast was needed.

The stairs were easier to manage without Rebecca in her arms, even with the gaping hole. She held her breath through the parlor and stopped in her tracks as soon as she entered the kitchen. Mr. Fellowes--Julian-- bent over on a chair, tying the laces of his leather boots. His hair stuck up every way and his hat sat on the table, looking particularly worn down away from his head.

He glanced up upon hearing her arrival. “I’m going into town today,” he announced. “I have some deliveries to make and I’ll be getting you your things. Is there anything else you needed?”

Frances reached into her pocket and held out the enveloped. “Could you post this for me?”

He took it and slipped it into his back pocket without even glancing at the address. “Of course.” He stood up and stuck his hat onto his head. “I should be back in time for supper.”

“I’m afraid we’ll probably be having some stew again,” Frances said. “I doubt I could make a proper meal with the kitchen in such a state.”

Julian shrugged, “What’s one more day after months of only eating stew?”

Frances tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure he was jesting. It would not have been a surprise if it were true. 

As soon as he had departed for the barn, she began rummaging through the cupboards. She wasn’t too keen on serving the children cold stew and plain bread for breakfast. She managed to retrieve a half empty jar of strawberry preserves, a jar of peach preserves, a handful of jerky strips wrapped in leather cloth, and an old slice of bread, turning blue from mold.

She threw out the bread, but stored the jerky and peach preserve in the cleaning cupboard available and placed the strawberry preserve on the table, along with the left over slices of bread from the night before. 

She turned to call the children down, but before she could even open her mouth they appeared around the corner, dressed in their clothing from the day before. Winnie held Rebecca precariously in her arms, but both of them seemed comfortable with the arrangement. Frances took the baby from her sister’s arms and instructed the children to sit down.

She helped spread the preserves and Jem stared up at her with a toothy grin and large brown eyes that seemed to regard her in awe. It was only when she handed him a piece of bread that he tore his attention from her. 

“Who are you?” Winnie asked, biting into her slice.

“I am Frances. I am your new...housekeeper.”