my writings

dumbwaiters

Victoria never intended for things to turn out the way they did: she simply wanted to pull the dumbwaiter up from the kitchen to outside the front parlour, where her mother was taking tea with some other members of her 'secret' committee.

Mrs. Merkel, one of her mother's oldest friends, had arrived with a strange professor in tow. Needless to say, Victoria's curiosity was piqued. However, with the hallways patrolled by siblings and household automatons, eavesdropping was out of the question. The only way of overhearing their conversation was from inside the dumbwaiter.

The dumbwaiter, however, had other ideas. Instead of stopping at the ground floor, where the front parlour was, it kept on going up all four storeys. Victoria examined the winch at the top. Its drive mechanism consisted of several lengths of rubber. Maybe the dumbwaiter would shake loose when the strapping was removed.

The dumbwaiter had no ceiling – it was simply a platform with a support cable on the inside, and pulling cable on the outside. Tentatively, Victoria freed some of the rubber from the machine. Nothing happened, so she took some more. It was just as she was wrapping the rubber around her boots that she felt the dumbwaiter descend.

Fast. Very fast. Too fast. Victoria watched helplessly as they passed one opening window, then another. It was on the third window that she took her chance and jumped – straight into the front parlour.

Unfortunately, Victoria's great escapade coincided with one of the maid automatons placing a tray of trifle on the dumbwaiter. Victoria hit the trifle on her dismount. It arched up into the air, scattering custard, strawberries, and cake all throughout the well-furnished parlour – and landed right on the professor's head. To her, he did not seem like the kind of man who would appreciate the finer points of being crowned with trifle.

Feeling nervous, she took in the faces of everyone in the room – all ladies (which was strange), except the professor. Some looked scandalised, while others were amused. The professor, surprisingly, fell into the latter category. Her mother did not.

"Victoria Angelica Barrington! This is 1859, and I believe we live in a civilised world! Is this any manner by which to treat your guests?"

Victoria at least had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, Mama."

"I am not the one you need to apologise to. Oh, poor professor Cuthbert. Please excuse my daughter's antics, sir," said her mother, addressing the last line to the professor.

The professor – who still had the pudding bowl on his head, like a hat – shook his head, saying, "Now, now. It was just a harmless mistake by a young girl. What I'm more interested in is how she managed to break the dumbwaiter."

Now Victoria was truly embarrassed. I didn't mean to break it!

She saw lots of heads around the room nodding. Her mother seemed to notice that as well, as she sat back into her seat, resigned.

A lady that Victoria couldn't recognize asked her, "Why do you have India rubber on your boots?"

Victoria looked to her mother, asking for silent permission to speak truthfully. She replied with a slight nod. "I was taking the rubber out from the dumbwaiter in hopes that it would shake loose, miss. I wrapped it around my boots as I did not have anywhere else to put it."

Another lady piped up, "Interesting approach, but it would never have worked. The rubber is there to keep the windlass machine in place. If it was to be removed, the windlass would stop working completely, and the dumbwaiter would simply be a piece of platform."

Victoria stored that information in a corner of her brain, for later.

Her mother cleared her throat. "I think that it's time Victoria left us to reconvene our meeting."

"Of course, Mama." She curtsied awkwardly – seeing as she was in a room full of reputable ladies, a few of whom were regarding her with disdain – and made her way out of the parlour hurriedly. But not before sneaking one last glance at the professor.

I guess first impressions can be wrong.