Setting
As you come out of your room you will find a note with your expected assignments. This is what it says:
It delights our Esteemed Master that you have decided to accept his proposal. We trust you will enjoy your stay at Blackford Manor, and as long as you carry out the assignments as expected, you will be most welcome. You have arrived during a busy time. Our Master hopes to have a party at the end of the week to rekindle some of his lost friendships during his time away from England. As such, we are expecting eight (8) guests on Friday. It will be your job to make sure they pass their time here wanting nothing, having everything, with the exception of entertainment, which will be provided by our Master. On that note, here are your jobs for the day;
- Maids and manservants. You will be expected to clean the house, with particular focus on the guest rooms on the first floor. The kitchen hands will be expected to help, with particular focus on the kitchen.
- Cooks and stocktakers. The kitchen and cellar are in dire need of inventory checks. Make a note of what we have in stock, and prepare your orders for the party.
- Gardeners. You should do what you do best with the garden. The master has also requested floral decorations inside the house, which you may provide.
Note that these orders are on top of what would be expected of you on a daily basis. I expect to find everything in order once I arrive this evening.
Kind Regards,
Theodorus Cherrywood
Head Butler
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...
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.
Hearing voices, he looked over at the stove. A young woman was standing here, the little suffragette that Sam had briefly met the day before but whose name escaped him, and the cook lost in their own conversation.
He turned back to the sink and rubbed his tired eyes, vowing to try and actually sleep tonight. He would have laughed at the thought, if it wasn’t so problematic for him. Samuel Perkins, sleeping through the night? How absurd. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in over ten years. And something told him he wasn’t about to start.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made Sam turn and watch as a girl descended the steps, dressed in a cream colored dress and an apron. Her eyes swept across the kitchen, and Sam felt he should at least attempt a ‘good morning’ to her, but she quickly busied herself with rummaging through the cupboards, and Sam lost his nerve. A little slip of a girl, pressed against the opposite wall, also caught his eye. To her, he nodded and gave a half heartened smiled. He was quickly discovering that the new servants seemed to be as uncertain about the new job as he was...most of them anyway.
The tumble of apples into the basin sink made Sam jump slightly and he turned to see the French girl holding offering one to him. He took it gratefully.
"That's quite all right," he replied, adding, "Thank you." He paused for a moment, seeming to consider, before taking a bite. Realizing he forgot to introduce himself, he offered his free hand. "Samuel Perkins, the new gardener of Blackford Manor," he introduced, deciding he quite liked the sound of his new title. It was much better than 'Samuel Perkins, ex convict and former drunkard'
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