Traditions and Superstitions

Posted on Tue Jul 16th, 2024 @ 4:16pm by Mrs Millicent Price & Clara Brown

1,043 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Death of a Monarch
Location: The Emerald Bedroom, Thrushstone Park
Timeline: February 5, 1901- 0630 Hours

There was a coolness to the room, as was typical in the cold February mornings. Like always, the morning light peeked through the edges of the curtains. Clara pushed the heavy velvet curtains aside to fully illuminate the Emerald Bedroom. “Good morning, your ladyship.” Clara said moving from the window toward the bedside. She fussed for a moment with a used water glass and the remnants of some biscuits that were, no doubt, the mistress' bedtime snack. Placing the cleared items onto a waiting silver tray. She noticed that her ladyship hadn't yet opened her eyes, a fairly common occurrence lately. Clara knew that she needed to gently rouse her in order to keep the morning routine moving at a fair pace.

“Your ladyship?” Clara reached out and touched the woman's shoulder tenderly. Her ladyship, despite her prolonged illness, looked so graceful and attractive in her slumber. Her ladyship did not wake. Nervously, Clara prodded her lady's should with a bit more force. Clara took a turn as she began to better understand the situation. She brought her hand up to her mouth, part of her not wanting to disturb what looked like a peaceful sleep, to stifle the gasp and the soft cry that escaped her.

After a few deep and calming breaths, Clara turned and moved respectfully from the bedroom. She closed the door quietly behind her and then all but ran towards the servants stairs. Opening the green baize door, the young maid quickly descended the narrow stairs passing another maid and the footman Peter on her way to the basement. Clara's eyes darted around looking for the housekeeper Mrs. Price.

"Mrs. Price, come quick!" She called out, catching a glimpse of the older woman's red hair passing a nearby doorway.

Millicent Price was not one for loud voices, or any noise really, especially in the morning."What is it Clara? I've got to go check on breakfast. We need to get things ready for the rest of the family, they'll be home in a few hours." She held the hanging keys and tools on her chatelaine to keep them still as she moved to the bottom of the stairs where Clara was standing. At first glance she noted that Clara was much more pale than usual. It made Mrs.Price feel uneasy.

"It's her ladyship!" Clara said, seeming as though she was not able to contain the words. "I think she..." Her voice trailed off.

Almost immediately the housekeeper started tearing up. She quickly wiped her eyes and placed a hand on Clara's shoulder. "Get the hall boy to run and bring the doctor." She choked up a bit. "I'll go upstairs..."

Clara nodded, tears once again falling down her pale cheeks. She rubbed her eyes as she disappeared into the labyrinth of the basement, leaving Mrs. Price alone.

The elder servant went quickly to her sitting room and retrieved a black bundle from a cabinet near the window. Leaving her room, she returned to the stairs and began to climb the uneven steps as quickly as she could, one hand on the worn wooden rail, the other held the package she'd recovered. she kicked her skirt out of her way as she ascended. After a few long moments, Mrs. Price found herself outside her ladyship's door. She knocked out of habit, took one deep breath, and entered after a beat. 'But how could it be?' she thought as her eyes scanned the room, 'She looks as though she's sleeping.' With a trembling hand, the housekeeper reached out to try to rouse the woman. To no avail.

Mrs. Price untied delicate ribbon that fastened her package. She began to unfold a number of pieces of a black cloth. With a large dark sheet in hand, she crossed to the fireplace where she opened the face of the clock and moved its handset when Clara would have discovered her ladyship. It was customary to stop clocks at the time of death. Now she set her sights on the room's mirrors, draping the black cloth over them to prevent Lady Ribble's spirit from becoming trapped in them. Then, Mrs. Price began to place the various photographs that decorated her ladyship's bedside face down, a tradition to prevent her spirit from inhabiting her loved ones. Finally the Housekeeper moved to the windows, fastening the heavy curtains to keep them open, and unlatching the windows before throwing them open. A sound behind her got her heart racing. Turning, she was met with the forlorn face of Clara.

"Jacob has gone to fetch the doctor." The maid said, her face still red from crying. "I..erm...can I help with anything?"

Taking a step towards Clara, Mrs. Price nodded. "If you would ask the gardener, we should get some blooms together before Lord Ribble arrives." It then hit her, She would be responsible for breaking the news to his lordship. This was unlike any death that had occurred at Thrushstone since she'd arrived as a laundry maid so many years before. most often, a doctor was present when a family member had passed, or they did so away from the house. "Yes, " She said, snapping back to reality, "See about some flowers, and send in one of the other maids to sit with her until the doctor comes. I'll have to make some arrangements before his lordship's train arrives."

With that, Clara nodded and disappeared from the doorway. Alone now, Mrs. Price began running through how exactly she might tell his lordship what had happened with as much poise and dignity as she may be able to muster. Swallowing hard, Mrs. Price began to gather the remains of her black bundle, a few stray pieces of black fabric, and secured them with the same black ribbon as before. Just as she was finishing up another maid came to the doorway. Looking up, Mrs. Price nodded, "If you could sit with her," she indicated a simple chair near the bedside, "The doctor should be here soon. Fetch me once he's with her." With that, the Housekeeper took her bundle in one hand and left the room, allowing herself to gaze upon the peaceful face of her ladyship before she crossed into the hallway.

 

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