The house was enormous.
That was the only thing Clare could think of as the Ashwood Manor appeared in front of her. The building was old, but it had lost none of its impressiveness with age. It loomed over a large expanse of property, with ivy winding its way up the stone.
“This will be your new home,” Mr. Ashwood said brusquely, leading her up the path to the house.
Unsure of how to reply, and still overwhelmed by the changes, Clare merely nodded. She didn’t know how this could ever be her home.
“You will always respond to me with a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir,’” Mr. Ashwood snapped coldly. “Do you understand me?”
His abrupt change from what could pass as civility to this manner, did not sit well with Clare. Teeth clenched, she muttered, “Yes, sir.” Fortunately, the slightly sarcastic manner with which she had said this had gone unnoticed.
“Good.” There was a pause before Mr. Ashwood spoke again. “What’s your name again, girl?”
“It’s Clare, sir. Clare Morgan.”
Mr. Ashwood said nothing further, and soon they had reached the front door. He pulled his wand out and tapped the lock. The wooden door sprung open, and Clare followed him inside. The interior was hardly any friendlier than the outside. The ceiling was high, and the foyer was dark; a staircase was visible to the side.
“Lucy, will you come here? You too, Gavin,” Mr. Ashwood called, his voice echoing in the cavernous entry hall.
Clare stood nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot, waiting for the two to arrive. Footsteps filled the hall momentarily, and a willowy woman and a tall boy came into view.
“I suppose this is our new servant?” Mrs. Ashwood asked her husband flatly, without waiting for an introduction.
“Yes, this is Connie.”
“It’s Clare,” Clare said automatically, without realizing she hadn’t been spoken to.
“Impertinent,” Mrs. Ashwood said with a look of disdain for Clare. “Well, you’ll be helping Katie with the cooking and cleaning. It’s only you two; we don’t want too much filth in our home. The house-elves were bad enough.”
Clare vaguely wondered how only two people could clean a house this large, but figured now was not the best time to ask.
“You’ll be sleeping in Katie’s room, which is just down the hall on the right,” Mrs. Ashwood continued, gesturing. “You are to address me as ‘ma’am’ at all times, and my son as ‘sir’.”
“Speaking of our son,” Mr. Ashwood interrupted. “Gavin, what do you think of our servant?”
The boy looked up, his brown eyes glancing at Clare disinterestedly. “I would have preferred a blonde, but as long as she can cook better than Katie, it’s of no importance to me.”
At this remark, Clare had to bite her tongue to keep from shooting back a reply.
“Well, that is all. Now, girl, go to the kitchen and help Katie cook our dinner immediately,” Mrs. Ashwood commanded.
Following this order, Mr. and Mrs. Ashwood left the foyer, leaving Clare alone with Gavin. Standing there, Clare realized she had no clue where the kitchen was. She took a few tentative steps forward, but stopped. She couldn’t check each room for a stove and sink - she would have to ask Gavin. Having closed some of the distance between them, Clare was struck by how tall he was; he was nearly as tall as his father. She dared to look up at him, hoping he wouldn’t be too unkind.
“Second door on the left,” Gavin said casually, and then walked away.
“Thank you, sir,” Clare called after his retreating footsteps, surprised he had volunteered the information so readily.
Not wanting to delay any further, Clare hurried to where Gavin had said the kitchen was. She pushed open the door, and when she stepped inside, she nearly walked into a young, blonde girl.
Clare wasn’t sure why, but she had imagined Katie to be an elderly woman. She, however, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
“Hi,” Katie said after maneuvering around Clare to avoid a collision. “You must be the new servant.”
“Yes, I’m Clare Morgan.”
“Katie Bell.” There was a pause, and Clare looked around the kitchen. The smell of cooking food reached her nose, and she could hear a buzzer going off when Katie spoke again. “Oh, that’s the dinner. I don’t have time to stop and give you the grand tour, but if you follow me around, you should get the hang of it.”
Clare nodded and watched as Katie flitted about the kitchen, taking a platter out of the oven and setting it on the counter next the already prepared salads. “I need to start the dessert,” Katie told her. “Can you take out the salads, and once those are finished, the dinner too?”
“Of course.” Clare placed the plates on the dumbwaiter and carefully pushed it through the doors that Katie said led to the dining room. The three Ashwoods were already seated at the long oak table and stopped their conversation upon her entrance.
Mrs. Ashwood glared at her as she began to set down the food. After a moment, she broke the silence, declaring, “Robert, she needs a scouring and a change of clothes before she can been seen by company.”
“You’re absolutely right, of course,” Mr. Ashwood said. “She can do those things tomorrow morning. She’ll need to clean up the kitchen after dinner, and I won’t her keeping me awake all hours of the night making a racket.”
Clare set down the last salad, and fought the urge to glare at the Ashwoods. She was used to the unkind words, but it still grated on her nerves the way they talked about her as if she wasn’t there. Clare supposed she should get used to it; after all, she would be here a long time.
---
Back in the kitchen, after serving the dinner and dessert, Clare and Katie began to clean up.
“How long have you been here?” Clare asked.
“Two months,” Katie said. “Gagnon came to my village and rounded us up. Then Ashwood chose me, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Are they nice? The Ashwoods?” Clare immediately realized how ridiculous that question sounded, and rephrased it. “I mean, not nice, but tolerable at least?”
“Gavin and Mrs. Ashwood are bearable “ as long as you don’t do anything wrong, they’ll ignore you. It’s Mr. Ashwood you have to watch for. He’ll try to hit you if you’re not careful.” Katie rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, and revealed a fading bruise the size of a Galleon. “He called, and I came too slowly,” Katie explained, having noticed Clare’s questioning look.
‘Oh,’ was all the response she could muster.
“You’ll get used to it,” Katie said. “And besides, they could be a lot worse. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories…”
The two continued cleaning in silence, leaving Clare to her own thoughts. She wondered how her father and mother were doing, and her younger sister Jane, who was only nine. She hoped they were getting along all right without her; she missed them terribly.
When the kitchen was done, Katie said she was going to bed, and that if Clare wanted to eat (Katie had before Clare had arrived), there was a plate in the refrigerator. Thanking Katie, Clare found the small sandwich and ate it quickly. The hunger pains that had been overtaken by nervousness earlier, had returned full force during the cleaning. Clare had just finished putting her plate away when she heard approaching footsteps.
“What are you doing, girl?” It was Mr. Ashwood.
“I was eating dinner, sir,” Clare said. “Katie saved some in the fridge. I just finished washing my plate.”
“Well, get on with it. You’ll be roused at five am, and not a minute later.”
“Yes, sir.” Clare hesitated for a moment, and then began to walk away.
“Did I give you permission to leave?” Mr. Ashwood asked menacingly. He grabbed Clare by the arm and jerked her around to face him.
“No, sir,” she said softly, forcing herself not to cry out in pain. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He released her arm. “Since it’s your first day, I suppose that’ll do. You may go.”
Clare left quickly and went to the room she was to share with Katie. As she climbed into bed, the throbbing in her left arm let her know she would soon have a bruise to match Katie’s. Clare decided not to dwell on that tonight, and drifted into a welcome sleep, knowing that the morning would come all too soon.
The Promise of Hope by solemnlyswear_x
Chapter Notes: Thanks again to LucillaJoanna for betaing. =)