Jump to new as of July 22, 1999

Chapter 1

Posted on Sunday, 18 July 1999

She calmly walked off the gangplank to her new home, America. That word left a bitter taste in her mouth as she said it. She had come from a very wealthy family, but now this. How could they have done this to her? Her own family, to leave her poor and destitute. To make her leave her home, and to send her off to some awful country to work! What an awful situation, to leave all of her friends, her father, her sisters--they were the one's who did this to her! Them! Even though she walked with her nose high in the air, she felt like it was hidden in the dirt. She came with thirty pounds in her pocket book, two dresses, and a heart of steel. No matter what she had to do to earn money here in America, she vowed she would come back to England a rich lady, with a rich husband.

She was born to a very wealthy family, the Elliots, to a very nice house, Kellynch, but her mother passed away and she was left to her father, who spent every shilling they had. Elizabeth was never married, for she was waiting for a very rich suitor to come and whisk her away to his large castle in Ireland. But, no suitor came, and when every shilling and pound was spent, she had no choice but to find some sort of work. She was too proud to find work in her own city, or country for that matter, so she decided to travel to America, far away from her home, (far enough so that even her sister Anne would not come and visit her and try to medal with her finances) that no line of work would be distasteful. She decided to become a governess, so that someday she could still perhaps preserve her social standing, and also so she would not be considered "help". She was too proud for that. Some people considered her overly proud, but she just believed that was because they were not fortunate enough in her financial standings. Now she would be the one calling people proud, she would be the one that saw the bottoms of people's noses, she would be the one working.

"Miss Elizabeth Elliot, will you please come to the front?"

"I am Miss Elliot, have you found a job opening for me?"

"What were you registered in?"

"I would like to be a," Elizabeth paused before she said, "governess, Mrs. Wilery."

"Governess, eh? Think you can handle them little runts? Ha ha," laughed Mrs. Wilery, the receptionist at the employment agency, at her own joke.

"Yes, any type of work will do, but that seems to be what I could do best," said Elizabeth in a cold tone.

"Well, yes. I mean no. I'm sorry, Miss Elliot, it seems that no job openings have opened up. There is a request for a maid, though."

"A, a," she could hardly get the word out of her mouth, "maid?" I will never sink that low, thought Elizabeth. But, she knew that she must find work, or she would starve. "Where is the place of employment, Mrs. Wilery?"

"Ooooooh," cooed Mrs. Wilery, "it is at the Corigan mansion in Newport. That would be a wonderful job, Miss. If I were you, I would take it. I bet even the late Queen Victoria would take it, if she was in your situation, of course."

"Yes of course, but she would not be a woman who spends her whole life saying vulgar comments and laughing at her own, stupid jokes. Now, what is the address, Mrs. Wilery?"

Mrs. Wilery was dumbfounded. All she could do was hand Elizabeth the address and stare blankly into space. Elizabeth was satisfied.

Two days later, Elizabeth arrived at the grand estate. Hmph, she thought, it is not nearly as grand as Kellynch. But, she reminded herself not to think of Kellynch, or of her family or friends anymore, it would just make her sad, and she could not expose herself in front of these people. A rather tall man answered the door. He must be the butler, Elizabeth thought.

"Yes, what is your business here?" asked the butler.

"I am here for the job position."

"I am sorry, Miss, but you must go to the back. We do not accept help at the front door."

"Well, you are help, Mr. Butler, and you are also at the front door. Goodness! What will your employer say?"

"If you wish, you may go to the back of the house and enter through the kitchen. They will attend to you there."

Elizabeth started to protest, but he slammed the door on her. Well, hopefully I will not see too much of him while I am here, she thought.

She did walk toward the back of the estate, even though the butler was an idiot.

"Yes, Miss?" asked a short and pudgy woman who opened the kitchen door.

"My name is Miss Elizabeth Elliot, I am here for the job position."

"Which one, dear?"

"Well, uh, you know, the um…"

"Yes?"

"Maid," said Elizabeth in a barely audible whisper. How shameful it was to say that word and not be referring to someone else!

"Ah, yes. We were expecting you. Now, come inside. We do not have much time, and I have direct orders from the master to hire the first person who walks in. Are you good with children?"

"Mrs.-"

"Pratt"

"Mrs. Pratt, I did not apply as a governess, I will I have to work with the children? If so, I will require a pay raise."

"Not usually, Miss Elliot, but sometimes the nannies get so fed up with the children, that one of us must take over for a day or two. I do not think you would get a pay raise, though."

"Well, then," Elizabeth was going to turn down the position; she was not going to be a nanny/maid unless there was money involved, but then she came to her senses and decided that any job is better than none. "I would be honored to be the new maid slash nanny," and she gave Mrs. Pratt a very 'sincere' smile.

Chapter 2

Posted on Monday, 19 July 1999

"If you would step this way, Miss Elliot, I have an apron for you, and you can get started right away. Here is the dinner menu, and if you could start boiling the water, I would be very appreciated. The cook is, um, 'indisposed'," said Mrs. Pratt in her jolly voice. "Here is a pot, and you turn the stove on like this. Now, I must go set the table," and she left Elizabeth to fend for herself in the kitchen.

Hmmm, thought Elizabeth. I wonder what I should do to boil the water. It must have something to do with the stove and a pot. Maybe I should ask Mrs. Pratt.

She looked through the little window in the door to see what Mrs. Pratt was doing. It appeared that she was placing something on the dining table. In fact, it looked like silverware. So that's how it gets on the table, thought Elizabeth.

Now, back to business, she thought. I must boil water. I suppose I will put some water in the pot and put it on the stove. I wonder if it is hot. She put her hand on the stove, but was extremely surprised by the heat. "Oww!" she cried.

"Is everything all right in there, Miss Elliot?"

"Yes, everything is fine. I am just boiling the water like you asked."

She put the water (she had to figure how to work the sink first) in the pot, and then she put the pot on the stove. She was extremely pleased with herself, for it was not everyday that a rich heiress of Kellynch (well, not exactly, but she decided that it would make a delightful story to tell) boils water. She decided that she would look in the cupboards and find out what sort of food this house kept. She noticed that some of the water was going over the sides of the pot, but she figured that was what it was supposed to do.

Mrs. Pratt then walked into the kitchen and cried out: "Oh goodness! What have you done! The water! It's all over the place. Quickly, grab a cloth! Hurry, girl! I can't believe you did this. It's as if you never boiled a pot of water in your life!"

Elizabeth complied with Mrs. Pratt because she felt very foolish for making such an obvious mistake. Then that foolishness turned to anger. Mrs. Pratt should have known that she has never boiled a pot of water. What made her think she could do that know?

"Elizabeth, you don't mind if I call you Elizabeth, do you?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Pratt paid no attention. "Elizabeth, perhaps you should set the table, and leave the cooking to me," she said in a harsh tone and then thrust some forks into Elizabeth's hand.

Well, thought Elizabeth, at least this is something that I can do. And she proceeded to set the table beautifully, without a spoon out of place. After that, one of the other maids thrust a duster into her hand and told her to dust the stairway. It looked like an impossible job. She couldn't even guess how many flights of stairs there were. Just very, very many. After an exhausting assignment, she decided to take a stroll in the gardens. If anyone asked her what she was doing, she would just say she was looking for the gardener.

The garden was absolutely beautiful; it had almost every species of flowers, and trees, with every color of the rainbow. Soon, she heard someone speak to her.

"Uh, Miss, are 'ya lost? 'Ya sure do look it. Do 'ya need help findin' yer way back to the house? I would be sure pleased to tell 'ya the way, if yer lost, that is."

"I am fine. I can find my way back, I think," Elizabeth looked around her to try to see the house, but all she could see was trees and more trees.

"Well, uh, Miss, I er, think that you could use a point in the right direction. I sure ain't gonna be the one who gotcha lost in this 'ere garden."

"If you would like to, and your name is?"

"Philip, but everyone calls me Philly. I'm the gardener 'ere. And I sure do know my plants! Ha ha ha."

"I am Elizabeth Elliot."

"Pleased to make 'yer acquaintance."

"Yes, yes. Now, where is the house? It is getting dark, and I do not want to be left alone out here with the dogs."

"But ma'am, the mast'ah doesn't keep them dogs…" as soon as he said that his voice trailed off and he understood that she didn't mean four legged animals. His friendly smile was instantly vanished into a cold glare. He lifted up his hand and pointed to the left. He bowed slightly and walked off into the fading sunlight. Elizabeth suddenly felt something she never had before in her life: remorse.

When she returned to the house, Mrs. Pratt congratulated her on the beautiful table setting. Elizabeth started to feel a lot better about herself and after a while completely forgot about the gardener. After a while, Mrs. Pratt showed Elizabeth to her room. It was very small, and very humble, but at least it had a bed. Also, Elizabeth made some money today, so maybe she could be able to leave when she saved enough. Hopefully.

Chapter 3

Posted on Tuesday, 20 July 1999

When Elizabeth woke up the next morning, she was incredibly confused. Where am I? She thought. She then remembered, and was wondering how to dress herself. What should she put on first? Her dressing maid always dressed her, and she did not have a clue of what to do first. She decided that when she went back to England and into society, she would watch more closely. Eventually, she managed to dress herself reasonably, in a beautiful gown with lace and silk. She decided that everyone would be looking at her as she dusted. But, as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, people were looking at her strangely. They must be admiring my dress, she thought.

Finally, Mrs. Pratt spoke up. "Elizabeth dear, what are you wearing?"

"My French silk gown. Isn't it lovely? Wouldn't you love to have one like this?"

"Gertrude, you forgot to give her the wardrobe," said someone who looked like the cook, who must now be disposed."

"My goodness! I forgot! Come with me, Betsy. You don't mind if I call you Betsy, do you dear?"

"As a matter of fact-" Elizabeth was interrupted during her protest.

"Come this way, child. Jim," Mrs. Pratt said, this time addressing the disposed cook, "you can take care of breakfast by yourself, can't you?"

"Yes, Gertrude, I'll be fine. If Master Corigan finds her walking around like that, he won't know that she is a maid. Ha ha!" Jim the Cook said, chuckling.

Miss Elliot, or Elizabeth, or Betsy was led to a room with several articles of clothing in it. She was handed a rather drab looking gray dress like all of the other maids were wearing, a little white hat, and a white apron, with no lace. She couldn't help but look disgusted at the dress that she was to wear. She could handle being a maid, as long as she didn't have to look like one.

"Must I really wear this?" asked Elizabeth in a quivering voice.

"Yes, Betsy. Now, why don't you go to your chamber and change out of that nice dress and into this one. I will expect you downstairs in ten minutes, not a minute later!"

Well, what a predicament I have gotten myself into, thought Elizabeth. Not only do I have to wear this god-awful dress, I also have to find my way back to my room, and downstairs in exactly ten minutes. What a mess! Maybe I can find someone to help me.

She walked out into the hallway and found a rather tall man.

"Excuse, me, yes you. Please show me the way to my room."

The tall man turned around and it was no one but the butler! Oh great, she thought.

"I have no idea where your room would be, and I do not have enough time to show you to the servant's quarters. Just go up the stairs until you see some rooms," the butler said in a mechanical tone.

So, our dear heroine was forced to find her own way to her room, and eventually she did find it, (with the help of one or two others) and she proceeded to change into her drab gray dress. This whole process took her about forty-five minutes. I am thirty-five minutes late, Elizabeth thought. Oh well, no matter, I will just explain to them that I got lost. I am sure Mrs. Pratt will understand. In fact, I will tell her that Mr. Butler gave me wrong directions. That will certainly get him in trouble.

"Betsy! What in Heaven's name took you so long? I have been waiting and waiting."

"The butler gave me the wrong directions," Elizabeth said assertively.

"The butler? He couldn't have been the butler, Smithy died five years ago, and Master Corigan hasn't hired another one. In fact, he died right after Mrs. Corigan did. That was a very strange time. Several employees quit after that. In fact--"

"Mrs. Pratt, please excuse my interruption, but I am in no humor to hear you take a trip down memory lane. Now, is there any work to be done? If not, I have a letter to write."

Mrs. Pratt smiled treacherously at Elizabeth. "Well, you will need to dust the formal dining room, the formal living room, clean out all of the old liquor bottles and old tobacco out of the tobacco room, make sure there are the right amount of balls at the billiard table, go to every room and make the beds, fill the pitchers with water, dust the rooms, and mop the grand hallway."

"I assure you, I am not the only maid. Can't someone else do some of the chores? I really must write my letter."

"You may write your letter if you wish to be living under a bridge. Get to work, NOW!" said Mrs. Pratt as she thrust a duster and mop into Elizabeth's baby soft hands.

After what seemed like several eons, Elizabeth was finally done with her chores, and she went outside to shake the dust out of the duster, and poor out the dirty water, when someone spotted her.

"Well, if it ain't little Miss Prissy. Now, tell me, did them dogs attack you? I never would have thought that you were just a maid. Ha ha ha, so how does it feel to be shaking that disgusting dirt out of the duster."

Elizabeth's face was bright red with anger, and a little embarrassment. "If you please, Mr. um, sir, I do not need your thoughts on this subject."

"Well, if that's the way that 'ya want it, well then I'm not one to get in 'yer way. Oh, yeah, when 'yer done with this, why don't you go rake them leaves under this here oak tree. I am going on my break."

"But I'm not the gardener! You are, and you should do your own work!" cried Elizabeth.

"Ah, yes, but I don't feel like it."

"I will not do your work."

"Well, then let's just, er, say that 'chu will be um, exposed to the mast'ah 'bout 'yer 'references'."

"How dare you! That is blackmail!" cried Elizabeth.

"Call it what 'cha want, but I sure ain't gonna be raking them leaves. Good day," said Philly the gardener with a smile and a tip of his hat.

Elizabeth was never so infuriated in her whole life. What an awful man. To make me do his job, she thought. Well, I guess I will have to do it, I do not want to loose this job. And so she proceeded to rake the leaves.

Chapter 4

Posted on Wednesday, 21 July 1999

That night, Elizabeth couldn't get to sleep. Who was that man who answered the door and told her where to go to the room. If he was not the butler, then who was he? Could he be a servant? But wouldn't he be the butler? It was all very mysterious. And then what ever happened to Mrs. Corigan? How did she die? How many children did she have? Why did the butler and her die at nearly the same time? At last, Elizabeth fell asleep, but she was tormented by nightmares for the whole night.

The next morning, she woke up bright and early, for today a special visitor was to come to Corigan house, and the house was supposed be spic-and-span.

"Mrs. Pratt, do you know who the visitor is supposed to be?" asked Elizabeth when she was downstairs setting the table for breakfast.

"Well, Betsy, I'm not completely sure, but I think it has something to do with the children. Philly knows more."

"Philly? That stupid gardener? How does he know these types of things?" Elizabeth asked in a disgusted tone.

"Master Corigan is fond of him, so he tells him almost everything about his personal life."

"And, so the gardener gossips about everything that Mr. Corigan says? It figures. He seems like that sort of person. Hmph."

"No, he did not say anything, about this whole affair. I heard everything from Lucy, who heard it from Gregory, who heard it from Jim, who heard it from Meredith, who was cleaning a room and heard them talking about it through the door."

"You lost me after Lucy," Elizabeth said emphatically.

"Yes, yes. Now, Betsy, why don't you get some mopping done. Or, I have an idea, why don't you bring the children their breakfast. They're in the nursery, you know where it is, don't you?"

"Yes. I believe so."

"Good, here is their food."

"It smells putrid. How can they eat this?"

"I made it, it is not rotten," said Mrs. Pratt as she thrust the tray into Elizabeth's hands. To Elizabeth, it seemed that a lot of people here enjoyed thrusting objects into other people's hands.

Elizabeth thought about taking the elevator, but decided against it, for if she was caught, she might loose her job. She had no idea what kind of barbarian Mr. Corigan was. She finally reached the nursery, and she opened the door. Inside were three children, one about five or six, another looked about eight, and the third one looked about ten. They looked up at her with forlorn eyes, eyes that were pleading for some attention.

"Here is your breakfast," Elizabeth said in an unusually cold tone, especially to children. She had no idea why she said it so harshly, but she did.

The eldest child, a girl, spoke up, "We have already been given our breakfast, Elizabeth."

"How did you know my name?" asked Elizabeth in a surprised tone.

"We know everything that happens here," said the eight year old, a boy.

"Who gave you your breakfast? I was supposed to serve you, children."

"Rupert gave it to us," said the youngest child, a girl.

"And just who is Rupert?" asked Elizabeth, suddenly startled.

"The tall man. He came here to play with us like he always does and brought some food with him. Rupert is fun," responded the youngest child.

"Oh, I see, well, do you still want this food, or shall I take it down with me?" Elizabeth asked the three children.

"We'll keep the food here, we don't want to get anyone in trouble," said the boy.

Elizabeth mechanically placed the tray of food on a nearby table, and then left the room silently. She was scared, but had no idea why.

Two hours later, a woman with a long face, a small nose, and with a structure so skinny it appeared sickening appeared at the front door. It was raining, but remarkably, she was dry. Mrs. Pratt opened the door for her, and Elizabeth was straining to hear what the conversation was about, without appearing to be nosy. She only heard bits and pieces.

"Good day, I am hear for…"

"They are sleeping, why don't you…"

"I WILL NOT WAIT! You must bring…"

Elizabeth walked down one flight of stairs to be able to hear better.

"But ma'am, please, just wait until Mr. Corigan comes home, he will be devastated if he doesn't…"

"I am sure he will not mind, he hasn't for five years."

Elizabeth walked silently down another flight of stairs.

"Mrs. Yates, just wait for a little while, please, give Mr. Corigan a chance."

Mrs. Yates lowered her voice, "I think…"

Drat! Thought Elizabeth, she walked to the bottom floor, and stood dusting a door. Her hand was on the doorknob so she could make a quick escape if she needed.

"You must be joking! Mrs. Yates, I have known you, for some time now, and I know that you do not have to do this. Don't you care…"

"…maybe so, but…"

A look of desperation spread across Mrs. Pratt's face. "Please, madam, just give him one more chance. I believe that…"

"…for him. Where is the parlor? And I would like a glass of water. I will not wait above fifteen minutes."

Elizabeth had moved her hand off the doorknob. They were speaking so low she could hardly hear them! If only she could get closer without seeming too obvious. Then, suddenly, the door thrust open, and Lucy, the kitchen girl came crashing to the ground, along with a five layer cake, and with Elizabeth.

"Goodness! What in heaven's name is this? Lucy! How could you be so stupid! I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Yates, the parlor is that way. Betsy! What were you doing there? Your assignment was on the third floor! And Lucy! You know you are not supposed to walk through this part of the house. Especially with a cake! Where is everybody?" cried Mrs. Pratt as she ran out of the room in search of some help to clean up the mess.

It was a sight to see. Elizabeth was sitting in the middle of the floor with chocolate cake all over her gray dress and in her hair and face, brown icing spread all over the floor, Lucy, the kitchen girl sitting dumbfounded, and two men smirking as they looked at the mess through a window. Elizabeth recognized one of them as the odious gardener.