Bernard Valor's Story

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And so your new life at Blackford Manor begins, as your characters drift from deep sleep to a slow awakening. The sunlight streams in through your respective windows, promising a grey but rain free day...

The sky was a cold grey, the sunlight muted by this overcast as it peeked behind the coal black curtains of her new room. Chloe sat up slowly, her eyes inexplicably drawn to the window. The skies matched the secrets in her heart. It was cold, full of uncertainty, it might rain, it might storm, it might be sunny, nothing was clear. She was far from there now, how they knew about her, how they knew she needed a place to run, how they knew she'd come here, nor did she know how that letter got her bed, in her room, passed the parlor where the bodies lay.
She didn't know what the future held, but the constables weren't here for her, no one else seemed to know, she had to take that at some sort of twisted blessing.

Pulling herself out of bed, Chloe made her way to the window, to feel the wind, she closed her eyes against soft blowing air, and sighed. She had to keep it together, keep her head down. She didn't know who knew what, and she didn't want to risk anyone, telling anyone else.

She pulled on her clothes, brushed her dark locks up into a half ponytail, letting the raven locks fall around her shoulders like a shawl .

She slipped on simple shoes, wrapped herself in a corset, pulling the strings enough that she could move but that it could do it's job. She slid on a plain red cotton dress, frayed at the ends, pulled an crisp white apron around her thin waist, and slid on a matching bonnet.

She made her way to the door, and stopped. She had a horrible feeling in the pity of her stomach, as she gaze back out the window. She knew the signs well, how to read the skies.. She turned away from it, taking a breath. She had to weather it, no matter what. Gloomy and grey, warning of a storm yet to come.

Bernard had finally awoke, then endless tapping on his window had forced him too. It would seem that it would come down real good later, as he soon noticed that one of the houses was filled to it's roof. He didn't pay much attention to it, knowing no one probaly lives there and instead started to button up his plain white shirt. He put his straps and and fitted them to his dark brown pants, before placing some crocodile skin shoes on that's one good thing his parents gave him. After finally washing his teeth, fac etc. He opened up the door and grabbed the note.

''As fucking if, it's too early for all this.'' He yawned, before placing a cigarette in his mouth. He lit it up with a match he acquired earlier, and decided to go exploring around the house. It was all pretty basic, but in a grand manor. Large kitchens, large house, large rooms and all that. Though there was a thing which peaked his curiosty the basement. He attempted to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. By which then Bernard decided to give it a good kick, which also didn't work. Well there was something in there not everyone should see, he thought but he didn't pay much attention to it thinking it was maybe it was Mr.Cherrywood's shop of sick pleasures.

Finally, he decided to get on with his task. He rushed down to the cellars were there were stacks upon stacks of wine bottle and such. Bernard had grabbed a bottle and read the label ''1890's Burmester, this Cherrywood guy sure is a classy one.'' He picked up the list and started running a stock check on the wines. Tick, after ticks though some did need adjusting as he soon did place them back in their place.

''This job's not all bad, free wine and easy work? It maybe my lucks changing after all.'' He said before briefly smiling under his breath. He had finally finished his cigarette and dimmed it into a wine barrel besides him, before heading upstairs once again. Bernard had decided to go the the Garden and do some exploring. Afterall, it was his new home and he wanted to see what it was like. He didn't have high expectations for it, as the outside and inside of this manor all seemed quite rusty and dusty. Nonetheless, he was curious.

Chloe made her way downstairs, getting used to the house, and it's seemingly endless corridors and hallways. She found herself outside, the morning air brisk against her skin, causing her to pull her shawl a little tighter around her arms. Making her way toward the gardens, she found herself smiling at the vastness of the garden, even though a light fog had fallen, she could see the colors of the flowers foreign to her eyes. She wondered through with a child like curiosity, her fingers brushing over the flowers and other plants with a soft smile on her face. It reminded her of her days with her mother, walking through the gardens, telling her of all the plants, and flower, herbs and weeds, what they did, what they could do, how they could be used to help.

A wetness touched her face, and she looked up, thinking it was rain no. She rose a finger to her cheek and finding a salty tear. She brushed it away and sighed before rushing to go back inside, only to run into a hard form. She gasped and stumbled back. "Oh, Pardon" She said, in her native tongue, not meaning to, before looking up at see a handsome face of a young man not much older than herself, she imagine. He smelled of cigarette smoke. "I'm sorry,
Monsieur," She apologized him, " I did not see you t'ere." She told him, averting her eyes a moment, before curiosity piquing her thoughts. "Do you live 'ere too?" She asked.

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Jule quirked an eyebrow as Asher proceeded to place a kiss on her hand but said nothing, as it was often consider common curtesy though usually only applied with those from highe society. "I, fortunately for everyone here, am not involved in the running of the kitchen Mr Jones, but rather I am a maid.", Jule's answered Ashers question politely.

She then proceeded to go bright red as Asher looked at her food. She was quite ashamed of the resulting mess herself and was grateful when he chose to play it off with humour rather then get angry at her waste of food, even if it was only a small amount.

Jule's watched as Asher looked around the kitchen for food, clearly intending to fulfil his role of cook, a job Jule was happy to relent. Following his instructions, Jule's took a seat and watched as others joined her. First the young French women who had been speaking to the gardener joined, placing what appeared to be apples next to Asher and offering her help in a somewhat shy manner. Briefly catching her eye, Jule offered her a kind smile before returning to her observations.

However, the peace of the kitchen was interupted as a young man entered, making his presence known with a loud exclamation to the cook, whose hand he then shook. He then sat down at the table and pulled out a cigarette and offered one to the Gardner.
Jule's nose wrinkled ever so slightly in disgust, basically unnoticeable, as she had always disliked the smell of cigarette smoke and briefly hoped that the smell of cooking food would mask the aroma. Shaking her head ever so slight, she offered Bernard a gracious smile before extending a hand across the table.

"Good morning Mr Valor, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Juliet Montgomery but you can call be Jule."

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Location: Kitchen
Interacting With: Asher Jones and Nina
Xalvadora

Clem continued looking through the cabinets and drawers. She knew she would not be able to remember where everything was from one run through of the kitchen, but it'd be nice to have an idea of where things were. She was about a quarter of the way through the kitchen when another young woman entered. It was becoming quite the party in here, much to her half-hearted amusement and full scale annoyance. One one hand being around all of the other servants would let her get a feel for their personalities and learn where they had been assigned within the house. On the other hand, these people would probably just create a mess for her to clean up later on. She also wasn't much of a people person.

As she continued her self guided tour of the kitchen, she listened to the conversations of the others. She noted each of their names and the positions they held if they stated so. She had just closed a drawer when Mr. Jones proceeded to announce that he would make them all breakfast. It was nice to know that the cook could take initiative and seemed confident in his abilities to cook. Nonetheless, Clementine would not be able to partake in any culinary wonders he provided unless they were soups or soft foods. It was almost ironic that a woman unable to eat solid food should be working as a kitchen hand. She eyed the food that Mr. Jones had pulled from around the kitchen and was relieved to see that he had pulled out some eggs and a loaf of bread among other things. A cooked egg and a piece of bread what be fine for her breakfast, even if it was boring by others' standards.

Clementine removed the pencil from behind her ear while simultaneously grabbing the notepad out of her apron pocket. She wrote a note on it for Mr. Jones to read. In the time it had taken her to do so, another young man had burst into he kitchen and introduced himself. She could only hope that he was not a kitchen hand. He was much too loud for her liking. As Bernard took a seat at the table, she noticed the dark haired woman approach Mr. Jones. Clem approached the cook as well and heard that other woman was a kitchen hand and had asked if the cook needed any help. She took her pencil again and added another line before the note she had just wrote down.

She tapped Mr. Jones on the the shoulder once she stood near him. She offered a small smile in place of an 'excuse me' before holding up her small notepad so he could read her message. Mr. Jones, I am a kitchen hand as well. My name is Clementine Harper. I am unable to speak and also unable to eat solid foods. Clementine could feel her cheeks threatening to turn red from embarrassment. It felt awkward having to admit so soon that she was mute and would only be able to consume the eggs and bread. She also was never sure how people would react to her muteness. But it was better that he find this out sooner than later given he was the one making the food as well as her superior. Once Mr. Jones was finished reading the note, Clementine turned so that Nina could read it as well.

''No no, it's fine pal-o i don't mind, and on the contrary i do live here i'm your very own stocktaker.''The man said and Chloe cocked her head. An American? How Queer? He rose to his feet, and gave a gallant bow. She blinked. 'If you don't mind, i'd like to ask your name.''He asked with an almost child like smile that caused her mouth to twitch.

"Chloe. Monsieur" She said. "Chloe Reed." She said with a curtsy, if her skin wasn't enough, showed she was of the lower class.

''Anyways i should be heading back, i'm kinda feeling the hunger ya know, i wouldn't mind dining with a fine ladie such as yourself.'' He told her and offered his hand. She looked at him with wide chocolate eyes. Why did he do that? We all american's this carefree, did they not care for Class? He called her a Lady? A fine one at that.

Was he ill in the head,unable to see color? Confused and a little curious, she dropped her tiny hand into his and he lead her into the kitchen where she pulled her hand from his the moment she saw the others. She lingered back a bit, as the American made his grand entrance, she hung by the entry. ''Got room for another Mr.Chef!'' He announced before he offered a hand to the each of them. ''The names Bernard Valor! Great to meet cha all!' He said, and she made note to remember his name.

Chloe took this time to examined the rest of them. . One woman with auburn curls, standing besides an older gentlemen to which she assumed was the cook as Bernard went to him first, another was a lithely blonde, who was a simple beauty, was scribbling something on a pad before showing it to the others, while Bernard approached a man with a look that who could only be described as 'English', His eyes were sad, this she could see from here. There was another woman, with brilliant big blue eyes that the tiny blonde was showing her pad to.

Chloe heard the auburn haired woman introduce herself as Juliet Montgomery.

Chloe took a breath and decided to enter the room, make herself known.They were all in the staff, even if they all were fair of skin, perhaps she wasn't entirely lesser then them. She entered the room, with the exact opposite amount of enthusiasm as Bernard and before she could opened her mouth to speak, her nerves got the better of her and she ducked her head down, snapping her mouth shut with a click. The last time she asserted herself did not end well.

"Excusez-moi " She told them quickly with a nod, her eyes on the floor.

She moved to the table, furthest from the group, and sat in a hurry, hoping she didn't make a complete fool of herself.

As Jules walked away, Asher went to dispose of her creation in the trash can near the back door. When her turned around to make his way back to the counter where he would work to prepare the food, he is met by a petite woman who was placing apples on the counter. "Monsieur Jones, I have been hired to work in the kitchen with you if you'd like any assistance..." Asher looks the woman over and with a smile nods, "Very good, my dear lady. Are you any good with a knife? You can peel and dice those apples for me and then set yourself to work on that sack of potatoes. I should think dicing them to about the size of your thumb nail should do nicely.

Without waiting for a response, Asher makes his way past the table towards the door to the room he saw meat hanging in. ''Got room for another Mr.Chef!' the brash young man who identified himself as the "Stocktaker" asked. Asher pointed to a chair at the table and replied, "Indeed I do, my fine man. Take a seat and in no time we shall have food on a plate before you." Reaching the room, Asher turned on a light and saw a variety of meats and sausages hanging from hooks and packed in barrels. Some were salted and others smoked. Finding a fine chunk of smoke ham, he brought it out and took it to the counter that the petite woman was working on peeling and dicing.

When he reached the counter, he was approached by another young woman. She seemed a bit shy and almost hesitant to come to him. As he placed the meat on the counter, she tapped his shoulder and held out a small pad of paper which had some words written upon it. Asher looked at what the woman was holding out to him. It read: Mr. Jones, I am a kitchen hand as well. My name is Clementine Harper. I am unable to speak and also unable to eat solid foods. Asher handed the notepad back to her and said, "A pleasure to meet you, Clementine. Ahh, lets see. Perhaps you can find where they have placed the dishes, cups and silverware and begin to set the table for our esteemed guests."

Asher looks back to the petite lady to she how she is progressing as he finds a knife for himself to cut the meat with, "So, my name is Asher, I didn't catch yours." He set to work cutting the meat into slabs, glancing back to the woman to listen for her response.

"Very good, my dear lady. Are you any good with a knife? You can peel and dice those apples for me and then set yourself to work on that sack of potatoes. I should think dicing them to about the size of your thumb nail should do nicely. Asher replied kindly. Nina gave him an nod to acknowledge his request and rose with a sense of purpose. After finding a large chefs knife for chopping and a smaller paring knife for peeling she moved to a large cutting board. Testing both knives with her thumb she found them both sufficiently sharp and placed the apples and potatoes in two separate and neat piles. She began peeling the apples and making quick work of them at that. As she worked she thought back to her first day in a kitchen. It was rather embarrassing, though she would never admit it out loud...

Lady Claire smiled as she led a younger Nina through the dining hall and down into the kitchen for her very first day of work. For the first twelve years of her life Nina had been treated as a part of the Claire family; playing, eating, and learning with Edward and Anthony as if they were her own brothers. She had developed into a lovely young lady, far different from the shapeless eleven year old she was just a year prior. Her maturing body was part of the reason her father had insisted she begin work. Knowing himself at their age, he trusted the boys about as far as he could throw one of the dairy cows he had been hired to tend.
Needless to say, this upper class treatment had spoiled young Nina. She detested the idea of working at first, but her father told her that he needed help and she stopped her fussing. Though it was a change for her, she would do anything her father asked of her.
Benjamin was the cook at the time, an old sailor in the Royal Navy. He was a mountain of a man, 43 years old with a salt and pepper beard and kind green eyes. He crouched to her level and shook her tiny hand, thanking her for her help in the future. Years hoisting sails and "swabbing" the deck had left his hands arthritic, he had requested the help for the tasks that required more dexterity than he had in the passing years, Nina's little hands were perfect for the jobs he could no longer handle. Fortunately for Asher, the first tasks she was asked to do were peeling and chopping potatoes.
Benjamin sat across from her, helping her on her first day and teaching her how to handle the knife without making a mess of the potatoes. As they peeled together he told her a story of his love, Abigail. He had married young, but they were madly in love with each other. He from England, her a green eyes goddess from Ireland. She could see the love in his eyes as he spoke of her. His gaze drifted from her to a high corner in the kitchen, a smile on his lips as he recounted their wedding and the birth of their first child. Nina hoped that someone would smile like that whilst talking about her one day. Though he did not describe her passing to her she could see the sadness in his eyes when he explained that they was no longer with him. He pulled her wedding band from a chain around his neck to show her the small emerald he could afford for her. He said it reminded him of her eyes and smiled again. Bejamin had left it to Nina when he passed two years later, she wore it every day to remind her of where she started.
When he finished his story and looked down at his pile he was satisfied with how much he had done, even with his arthritic hands, and looked over to hers. She had peeled only a quarter of what he had done, and her potatoes were all miss-shaped with large gouges carved out of them. Her cheeks turned bright red as he examined her work, but he simply laughed and told her that she would learn soon enough.

Nina smiled as she worked but was pulled from her happy memory by a loud, boisterous voice.
''Got room for another Mr.Chef! The names Bernard Valor! Great to meet cha all!'' Nina raised her free hand in a small wave but continued with the task at hand. She only looked back when she smelled the stench of tobacco. Bernard had lit on at the table and was offering one to Samuel. Nina hoped that Samuel would refuse, she disliked the smell. If she was more outspoken she would have told Bernard to put the cigarette out in her kitchen or take it outside, but she was far too shy to do so. In addition he was a man, and she was not one to tell a man what to do. She tried her best to hold her breath and continued her work. By this point she had finished peeling both the potatoes and apples and had begun chopping the apples in small pieces as requested.

Another young lady entered after Bernard, her arrival announced only by a quiet "Excusez-moi " before she scurried to the table. Nina recognized the language and looked back to see a creole woman had joined the group. Immediately she felt a kinship to her, though they were from different worlds, and gave her a reassuring smile. It was time to work now, but she would seek her out later and attempt to make friends with her. It had been quite a long time since she could speak her native tongue. The prospect of future conversations excited her.
She remained unaware of the fair haired girl that was showing Asher a note behind her until he spoke to her. She turned once more, curious as to who he was addressing and noticed her form of communication. She turned back to her work, unsure of why the girl wrote as opposed to speak to him, but her fear of embarrassing herself or offending the girl kept her from asking. She was sure that she would learn why at some point, but noted that she would be working in the kitchen with Asher and herself. Perhaps she would speak to her later when the kitchen wasn't so crowded.

It was then that Asher came to stand beside her with his own knife, though he began working on a large slab of meat as opposed to fruits and roots. The smell of the meat was unpleasant but she preferred it to the stench of the tobacco.
"So, my name is Asher, I didn't catch yours." he stated with a handsome smile which she immediately returned. Nina liked him, he reminded her of both her late father in the way he spoke and moved. He was confident, friendly, and able to direct well thus far.
Wiping her hands on her apron she held out her right hand to formally introduce herself, Abigail's emerald resting on her pinky, "Angelina Xalvadora, please call me Nina," before returning to finish the last few apples and starting on the potatoes.

SAMUEL PERKINS

The cook took command of his kitchen, and rightfully so, and the rest of the servants meandered over to the table. Sam slipped into a seat as a few more introductions were made and the cook began his work. Bernard made his entrance, and a slight smile crept to Sam lips. He had met the American the day before too, and it wasn't hard to forget someone as refreshingly boisterous as he was. At one point in his life, Sam might have been the same; confident, eager eyed, flirtatious even. But that was a long time ago and a lot had changed since then. There was only ten years between the two, but for all Sam cared it could have been an entire lifetime. What he would give to go back to being his young, naive self.

He watched bemusedly as Bernard entered, followed by a quiet, young black girl Sam all but missed, and took a seat at the table across from him. He fished out a silver cigarette case and offered one to Sam. He glanced down at the cigarette extended to him.

Ah, cigarettes. Apart from the occasional social smoking, he hadn’t been a big fan of the habit. They had made for excellent collateral though. When he was in Strangeways, a good smoke in the right hands was more valuable than a couple of pounds. Cigarettes had saved his life plenty of times and Sam had grown oddly fond of the little devil. But as Bernard offered him one, Sam could feel himself being pulled back to the penitentiary, and as he thought of his days there, a feeling of troubled guilt washed over him. He suddenly had a sick feeling in his stomach, the same feeling he got every time he thought of Strangeway.

And Sam had to remind himself that it was just a cigarette.

He couldn't allow himself to wallow in self hatred and regret every time something happened that reminded him of his ten year sentence. Bernard was only being thoughtful, and here Sam was, trying not to blanch. It was pathetic.

“Please,” he finally murmured and took Bernard’s offer. He wasn't entirely sure he even wanted the cigarette, but he was sure that he wasn't going to let old scars from his cell block days stop him from accepting a kind gesture. He needed to move past all that at some point. So Sam borrowed Bernard's lighter, lit the cigarette, and took a long pull. It felt like an instant relief, and the horrible feeling creeping in him seemed to settle like the smoke from the burning end of his cigarette. He relaxed slightly and managed a "Thank you." It had been a long time since he had bothered to smoke; he forgot how good it felt.

Sighing out a breath of sharp smelling tobacco smoke, Sam glanced down the table while Asher and the kitchen hands fell underway with breakfast. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the sounds and smells of the kitchen began filling his senses. He was suddenly glad that he didn't need to scrounge up food this morning, and was perfectly content with letting the cook be in charge of breakfast.

As you were chatting along, the cook preparing dinner and the kitchenhands doing their jobs, three new people entered the room. The eldest of the three introduces herself as Mrs. Gelder, and reminds you all that in the absence of Mr Cherrywood, she will be in charge. She has little else to say to you, opting instead for a small cup of black coffee before she sets about her administration tasks of the day. She tells you that she expects you all to do the same.

The two others say little. In fact, they hardly introduce themselves. The younger woman only smiles faintly, keeping at the edges of the room and vanishing before she calls too much attention to herself. The man looks to the floor and says nothing. He responds to question with a gentle smile and a slight shake of his head, as though unable rather than unwilling to reply.

Before you know it, breakfast is over. It is time to move on to your work, and perhaps allow yourself to explore the house and the still visible grounds before dinner is served. The water is still high, but steadily pulling back, revealing long stretches of white sand, and nothing else...

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Josephine
It was clear Mr. Cherrywood had not had help with his paperwork for some time. The papers were erratic, most of it hastily put together. She couldn't find a proper record of the guests they were expecting at the end of the week. Similarly, though the house was clearly lived in there were few orders of food. Enough to feed two, perhaps, but not the large staff required by the house– not even four, depending on how long Lord Blackford had lived alone with only Cherrywood, Nancy and Christopher for company.

Had they been close to a forest she might have understood. It wasn't unusual for Lords to prefer their meat fresh, but around here there was nothing to hunt. Josephine sighed, rubbing her temples against a headache born from confusion. Hunger cleared her mind, so she refused to take food before the most important work was done. Still, she was beginning to feel awfully alone in the little office by the kitchen, and considered a spot of supervision before she continued her work.

Nancy
"As you can see, a lot of this stuff is really old," Nancy explained to the other maids over the fast-paced clicking of her heels. "You'll want to be careful when you clean it. Not that the man upstairs gives a toss about the furniture, but Cherrywood can be a real arse about it." She gave an awful, throaty laugh at this, nudging Christopher, who only shrugged as he continued to give the floor a prolonged stare.

"Most important bit's probably the dining room," Nancy continued. "The guests are gonna spend the most time in there, so we should be thorough with it. I'm guessing they won't have much time for the other rooms, but I guess it won't hurt to give it a proper clean for once."

She pushed open the double doors to the dining room, revealing a lavish chaos of furniture. A huge, dark oak table stretched from one side to the other, around which stood a dozen of equally oak chairs with blood red seating. Golden curtains bulged by the gigantic buildings giving a view to the garden of the house. A few counters lined the walls where the servants would be resting drinks and dinner before serving. At the very edge of the room, a huge fireplace would gape like a mouth over whomever sat at the Lord's seat. It was a lot to take in at once– shelves with fine china on display, a gigantic crystal chandelier wobbling over the middle of the table, and all this only at first glance. Nancy paused, letting the maids take in the sight, her expression frozen into a cruel half-smile.

"All right," she said. "Any questions?"