Location: Dining Hall to Kitchen Interacting With: Nancy and Maids Following breakfast, Clementine joined the maids as Nancy led them to the dining room. Though her primary duty was cleaning the kitchen, it wouldn't hurt to know where the dining room was. She might be requested to come back and help out should her efforts be needed.
The dining hall was quite a sight. It was grande and beautiful, yet a bit intimidating. She'd seen plenty of dining halls before given her past life, but this one just seemed a bit creepy. Perhaps it was the dark furniture, the large fireplace, or the dreary weather outside that made her feel this way. She looked around, taking it all in. Her facial expression barely changed as she did so.
Her attention turned back to the maid leading them as she asked if anyone had any questions. Clementine had quite a few questions. Who were the guests that were coming? Other wealthy civilians? Where was Master Blackford? Could there really be only a few staff members that weren't new in this large manor? Why did the man next to Nancy not speak? How had she been selected for this role? How had they even found her after she'd fled after knocking some sense into that pervert cook? She would not ask these questions to another human just yet. First, she might as well wait and see if some would be answered for her. Until then, she'd just do her job and hope nobody bugged her too much.
Clementine shook her head in response to Nancy's question and gave a small nod to the maids before leaving the dining room. It was time to go and clean the kitchen. She was looking forward to the mind numbing work of sorting and cleaning. A small smile formed on her face as she walked down the hall, glancing at the walls as she passed them. She was soon in the kitchen, where Mr. Jones and Miss Nina would be if they weren't already. Hopefully there were no creatures or unwanted plant life lurking within the kitchen. Clementine did not want to deal with catching mice or removing mold. Both were quite annoying.
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 hadnât 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.
âPlease,â he finally murmured and took Bernardâs 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.
Samâs dark gaze flickered from the low hanging clouds to the large garden, then past that, the glassy marsh land that surrounded the estate. He had glanced at the garden the day before, when the odd man from town gave him a lift to the manor, and had noted the work that needed to be done. He had missed the back though, where he was now certain he could see headstones in the distance. A family grave site? He pursed his lips slightly. Eight daysâthe gravel drive, the chapel, the garden, and now the graveyardâwas a short time to get everything ready.
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 wasnât so problematic for him. Samuel Perkins, sleeping through the night? How absurd. He hadnât had a decent nightâs sleep in over ten years. And something told him he wasnât 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 âgood morningâ 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'
RPG
