A Downstairs Conversation

Posted on Tue Aug 20th, 2024 @ 10:01am by Mr Ralph Compton & Mrs Millicent Price & Peter Stone & Clara Brown & Mr David Fitzroy & Mr Edward Rhodes & Mr Cristóbal Santana & Mr Roger Hawkins

1,739 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Death of a Monarch
Location: Downstairs, Thrushstone Park
Timeline: February 5, 1901 - 1330 Hours

"Everyone is settled for now," Mr. Compton said entering to the kitchens. "His lordship has requested luncheon be set out buffet style so they can serve themselves. That is, if any of them are feeling up to eating." He said to the Spanish cook, setting down a tray with some empty cups he'd cleared from the Library.

Cris watched as a scullery maid moved over to collect the cups Compton had just placed and take them over to the sink. He licked his lips, placing a towel down on the table between them.

“Cold roasted beef served with horseradish sauce and mustard, a savory chicken and ham pie with a beautiful, flaky crust, scotch eggs, leafy greens with vinaigrette and carrots, buttered new potatoes and seasonal fruit. All of these things, Señor Compton, may easily be served buffet style.” Cris said before turning to the kitchen maids. He gestured one tan hand to the wooden table. “Please put the dishes aquí so that Señior Compton may have them served.”

The women made the dishes available with the help of the two other cooks on staff and Cris watched as the Butler’s footmen picked them up and walked out of the kitchen with them in orderly fashion.

"Set them up in the dining room. Johnathan, if you would then attend to the dining room." Compton said, with a hesitant smile. He turned back to the others as the footman departed to their work. "It seems that everything is stowed away and unpacked. Our guests have been settled. I think we have earned ourselves a quick cup of tea and something to eat." He turned his attention to Mrs Price, silently saying there was much to be discussed.

"Why don't we go sit?" Mrs.Price asked, "Mr. Santana, may want to join us." The elder woman led the way into the Servant's Hall and found her seat. She wasn't hungry or thirsty at the moment, she simply wanted to sit. Something she hadn't done since early that same morning. "I do think it's important, and I'm sure you can agree Mr.Compton , that we all take some time over the coming days to allow ourselves to mourn. Her ladyship was a kind and gentle woman who cared very deeply about this house, her family, and the staff." she looked to the Butler.

"Yes Mrs Price. I am quite in agreement," The young Butler nodded. "She was an exceptional woman. One I'm sure we can all say we were proud to work for."

“Sí. A sit would be good.” Cris said, pulling off his tall chef’s hat and his apron and walking them over to a side table. The pair of them then walked together from the kitchen.

David came in quietly and pulled out a seat at the Servant’s table. He needed a cup of tea and a smoke, in that order. But he wasn’t sure if or how soon His Lordship might need him…so he thought it best to be available at a moment’s notice. If he had felt numb at the Queen’s death, Lady Ribble’s death hit him deep in his heart. He’d only had a few limited interactions with Her Ladyship in his time at Thrushstone Park. But each one had been serene and peaceful, he recalled fondly.

“A proper brew-up does sound nice,” David said, standing back up and looking around for the kettle.“I wouldn’t mind a dram of something stronger…you know…to say goodbye to Her Ladyship,” David offered.

Edward Rhodes came down as well, after making sure Louis Battersly's things were all unpacked and stowed properly, and making sure there was nothing else he needed at the moment. The family was convening in the library now anyway--he doubted there would be a formal meal, at least not until dinner.

"A drink of any kind seems appropriate about now." He nodded in agreement, sitting at the table in the servant's hall. "First the queen and now her ladyship..." he sighed. It was a sad day all around.

Clara was seated at the far end of the table from her comrades. Her eyes were puffy and red, it was clear to anyone looking that she had been crying. A lot. She grasped a rather wet handkerchief in her hand. She stood and lifted the kettle, which was placed near her, and passed it to Mr. Fitzroy.

"Blimey, my days all messed up. Can't remember if I done the clocks yet, or if I'm thinking of yesterday." The footman Peter said, removing his livery jacket as he found a place near Clara to sit. He looked flustered, but that was something much of the servants were feeling right now.

"Be sure not to touch the clock in her ladyship's room, Peter." Called Mrs. Price from her spot. "Not until after the burial." As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could rephrase them.

"The clocks can wait, Peter. Have a cup of tea," Compton said. He turned back to Mrs Price. "I suspect the Dowager may wish to move back in for a while to be closer to the family. " He looked a bit frazzled at the revelation.

"We can put her in the Aquamarine Room, it overlooks the east lawn. Her ladyship enjoys morning sun." Mrs Price declared, recalling the Dowager's time as lady of the house. "She also prefers to come down for breakfast, thinks it gets her up and ready for the day, or at least that's what she always said. We all thought it was probably how they did things in her homeland. anyways, it saves us preparing a tray every morning." The Housekeeper forced a smile. There was nothing like musing about the mysterious Russian upstairs to ease the morbid veil that hung over them.

Peter stood and reached for the kettle and poured himself a cup of tea, following Mr. Compton's order. Looking at the cup set before Clara, he topped up her tea before returning the kettle to where it had been. Resuming his seat, he brought the delicate tea cup to his lips and took a comforting sip of the warm liquid."Ahhh." He said, feeling the warmth move through him.

Perking up slightly, Clara reached for the newly filled teacup. She didn't sip, she simply clutched it in her hands. the warmth was comforting. She'd been sitting in the Servant's Hall since this morning, after the initial flurry of tasks with Mrs.Price. To be honest, her mind felt a bit like mush.

Compton regarded the maid at the end of the table, he understood much of what she was feeling. Though he hadn't discovered the Marchioness himself, he was feeling very out of sorts and even overwhelmed by the situation they found themselves in. Shaking his head turned his attention towards the housekeeper.

"Mister Santana, we will need to go over the menu for the wake. His lordship wants the burial on the 8th, so that gives us a few days to get the details together and get anything we might need. " Mrs. Price spoke slowly and calmly, hoping that there wasn't a serious language barrier with the chef.

Cris had taken his own cup of tea and had given it several sips before he had been addressed. He hadn’t really known Lady Ribble, nor had he been around long enough to know much about anyone else. He was swarthy and brand new to the country, so several natural barriers existed. Still, he listened attentively as others spoke.

“Sí. How does this house deal with such things?” He asked, his accent string but delivered in a confident, quiet voice. “I know the cook normally works out such details with the Lady. In this case..what should I do?”

"You and I can work out the details. I'm not yet certain whether his lordship with take over that oversight, or whether it may pass to Lady Felicity, or even Dowager while she's here." She shook her head, not wanting to get away from the topic at hand. "For now, you and I, until I've heard otherwise, will take care of it." Her face was warm, and nearly maternal, as she spoke to the cook.

Edward looked towards Mr. Compton, his cup of tea in his hands, mostly untouched but like Clara, it was good to hold something warm on a cold, dreary day like this. "I'm sure his lordship's family will be coming to stay, The Viscount and his wife and children...shall I take care of the Viscount as well as Lord Louis?" He was eager to step up as an under butler, but he knew he needed to bide his time.

"We shall cross that proverbial bridge when we come to it. If Lord Hawthorne comes he may, if we're fortunate, bring his own Valet and Maids. We likely won't know until they arrive." Compton said, lifting his delicate teacup to his lips.

Edward nodded in agreement with Compton; he was right of course. He probably shouldn't have assumed the Viscount wouldn't bring some of his own staff with him. He sighed--it would get quite crowded around the servant's hall, to be sure. "I'm ready to serve in whatever capacity is necessary."

"Thank you Mr. Rhodes, your eagerness to serve is welcome in this house's time of need." Compton nodded to the Valet. "Speaking of which I want to have you, as well as Messers Fitzroy and Hawkins, on standby to be additional footman if we end up hosting a large party for the wake. We can search you out liveries today, and get them brushed and pressed in any case."

Edward nodded, he knew they were going to need all hands on deck in the case of a large gathering for the wake. “Yes, sir.” He was sad, the late Lady Ribble was a wonderful woman and much beloved by the staff; it was sad times indeed.

Hawkins, as the most junior of the Valets in the house, simply nodded. He was just going along with the others. He had very little experience waiting a table, but how hard could it possibly be.

Compton pushed himself back from the table. "Well, I'd best be getting back upstairs." He said, taking a last sip of his tea before standing and disappearing into the corridors of the basement.

 

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