The Winds Of Fortune Episode 02
Across the Atlantic Ocean, at Bothwell House in Hampshire, England, Norah Pipp was making her way from Miss Violet’s room to the servants’ stairs at the back of the house.
She was maid to the Northavens, who were second cousins of the Vandunlans, and an honest, down-to-earth young girl.
Miss Violet, the daughter of the house, was preparing to go out and had been delighted with the new dress that Norah had laid out for her.
Her face had been a picture, and Norah was sure that she would look as pretty as one when she was all ready for her party.
For a moment, as she traipsed down the corridor, flicking a speck of dust from the corner of a cabinet with her apron, Norah wondered what it might be like to have an elegant party to go to.
She brought her thoughts back to reality. She was a level-headed girl and not given to daydreaming.
She continued on down the steps to the scullery.
She would gather her things and, as soon as Miss Violet and her brother, Master Harry, had left, she would clean and tidy Miss Violet’s room and lay the fire ready for her return.
“Did you see the dress?”
Betsy was already in the scullery and looked up from the sink as Norah came in.
She was a young girl who had recently started work at Bothwell House.
“I bet it’s like a fairy-tale princess’s,” she added.
“I don’t know about no princess, Betsy, but it’s real pretty,” Norah replied.
Betsy’s eyes were round.
“What’s it like, Norah?”
“It’s blue like the sky,” Norah replied, smiling at the girl’s eagerness. “Made of the softest satin, with delicate beadwork.”
“Just imagine.”
Norah smoothed down her own black dress with its white apron, and checked that her cap was straight.
“Ain’t no use the likes of us imagining. That dress would no doubt feed my entire family for a year.”
Betsy blushed.
“I hope Joe’s well?”
“His cough’s mended, thank you.”
Norah smiled to herself.
She had her suspicions that Betsy was sweet on her younger brother, whom she’d bumped into a few times at the village store and once at the post office.
Betsy only had one brother and two sisters, but Norah was the eldest of eight surviving siblings.
She was close to all of her family, but especially her brother, Joe, who was next in age to her and a kind, straightforward fellow.
He was apprentice to the greengrocer, but took on other small jobs when he could get them, to help the family out.
He’d been very excited the last time she’d seen him, as he said he’d picked up a piece of work that would pay him well.
“Ain’t the missus kind?” Betsy remarked now, her thoughts turning back to the dress. “She don’t spare nothing for Miss Violet.”
“True.” Norah nodded, but didn’t say more.
Fond though she was of Miss Violet, in her opinion the young lady was spoiled, and less generosity from her mother might be no bad thing.
Lately she seemed to have taken a shine to a rather wild young man called Alfred, too.
Norah knew she was lucky to work here. The Northavens were good employers, easy-going and fair.
She could have done a lot worse than get a position at Bothwell House.
The hours were long and she didn’t get to see her family a great deal, but it was work, and it kept body and soul together.
She had a half-day once a fortnight and was able to contribute a little to her family’s expenses.
“Well, I must get back to work, Betsy, and so must you.”
Betsy shrugged and turned back to the sink, while Norah gathered her things and made her way back upstairs.
She was partway along the landing when she heard the sound of a car on gravel, and she wandered to the large hall window and looked out.
Below, Barker had brought the Rolls-Royce round to the front door, and Master Harry was helping his sister inside.
She could see him in the darkness, lit by the entrance lamps.
He looked handsome in his black evening suit and white bow tie. A smart wool coat, white scarf and top hat gave him an air of distinction.
Master Harry was Norah’s favourite. He was a kind, intelligent young man. Not stuffy, but not flashy, either.
For the last few months, he had been walking out with Miss Daisy, a lively young lady he’d met at a dance.
Their mother, Mrs Flora Northaven, was in her late forties, a small, round woman with grey-blonde hair and blue eyes like her daughter.
She was a well-meaning woman, but loved gossip.
She had married Edwin Northaven almost 30 years earlier. He was a landowner with an estate just outside the town of Bothwell.
He was a pleasant, easy-going man, with an interest in Egyptology and a love of horses.
Norah shook herself and smiled. She had no time to stand around thinking about her employers.
She turned and made her way hurriedly to Violet’s chamber.
To be continued …