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Authors: Margaret Tanner
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salts for one of the ladies then help Lady Priscilla to bed. She said Mr. Guilford is furious, intends dismissing you. As for Mr. Ogilvy, he stormed out of the house and rode off.” Annie told the tale with relish.
“I don’t care what happens to me . I told the truth. Ogilvy took a riding crop to my brother. Dragged him away in chains like some wild beast, all because I wouldn’t allow him to take liberties at a ball.”
“I didn’t think you were an ordinary domestic servant.”
“I’m not. I owe Michael Guilford five pounds. Once I pay the money back, I’ll never set foot on this wretched place again.”
“ Mrs. Smith sent me out to get you, wants us to clean up. She’s angry too. You should be careful. She’s treated you mean right from the start, now things will be even worse.”
The two girls traipsed towards the house. Melanie wiped the tears away from her face with the corner of her apron, before following Annie into the kitchen. Pride stopped her from letting the housekeeper see how upset she was. Mrs. Smith hovered like an avenging angel. Instead of the angry rush of words she expected, the woman looked her up and down and smiled grimly.
“I’d hate to be in your shoes by the time Lady Priscilla finishes with you tomorrow. You won’t have Mr. Guilford here to protect you, either. He leaves for Melbourne early in the morning and won’t be back for several days, so I hear.”
Melanie knew they would try and break her spirit now , but she would stay here until the debt was paid or die in the attempt. She didn’t even bother answering the housekeeper.
Strangely, she slept well that night, not waking up until morning. Once again she dressed and washed in semi -darkness. It would never be light in this dungeon as there were no windows, only a wire vent to let in some air.
She stirred up the fire in the kitchen and replenished it with several logs, before preparing the water for Priscilla’s bath. Annie said Priscilla always took an early morning bath before breakfast, then returned to bed for a few hours. Oh, to be rich and idle. Such a pampered young woman would never have done a day ’s work in her life, not with numerous servants pandering to her every whim. What would she know of the hardships endured by the miners and their families?
Priscilla apparently insisted on clean bed linen and a fresh nightgown each morning. She would be eating alone now Michael had gone to Melbourne, because her chaperone, Mrs. Knightsbridge, still lay stricken in bed with gout. The orders were that the dining room table still needed to be set up with a fancy cloth, the best silverware and bone china. So much extra work because a spiteful, selfish woman considered no one but herself.
Straight after lunch, Melanie found out what this spoilt creature had in store, by way of punishment, for last night’s outburst. Priscilla raged at her for what seemed like hours, condemning her as a lazy, stupid interloper. “Laundry,” she finally spat out. “That’s your job from now on,” and minced off.
***
Melanie entered the stone laundry building to be met by a wall of stifling heat from the large fires serving the coppers. Perspiration broke out on her forehead within seconds.
An old crone supervised a part aboriginal girl who listlessly transferred scalding sheets from the copper with the aid of a stick, then dumped them in a trough of cold water. Melanie jumped back from the hissing steam.
L ike a witch leaning over her cauldron, the crone stabbed a bony finger at Melanie. “You girl, get over there and stir the lard for soap and candles.”
The nauseating stench from the back of the room almost overpowered Melanie, but she took up the wooden stick and started stirring the boiling mixture.
“That’s Belle.” The woman jerked her head at the girl. “I’m Mrs. Prince. Mrs. Didn’t think I got a man, did you?” Mrs. Prince cackled like a demented rooster.
How could a person endure working under
“I don’t care what happens to me . I told the truth. Ogilvy took a riding crop to my brother. Dragged him away in chains like some wild beast, all because I wouldn’t allow him to take liberties at a ball.”
“I didn’t think you were an ordinary domestic servant.”
“I’m not. I owe Michael Guilford five pounds. Once I pay the money back, I’ll never set foot on this wretched place again.”
“ Mrs. Smith sent me out to get you, wants us to clean up. She’s angry too. You should be careful. She’s treated you mean right from the start, now things will be even worse.”
The two girls traipsed towards the house. Melanie wiped the tears away from her face with the corner of her apron, before following Annie into the kitchen. Pride stopped her from letting the housekeeper see how upset she was. Mrs. Smith hovered like an avenging angel. Instead of the angry rush of words she expected, the woman looked her up and down and smiled grimly.
“I’d hate to be in your shoes by the time Lady Priscilla finishes with you tomorrow. You won’t have Mr. Guilford here to protect you, either. He leaves for Melbourne early in the morning and won’t be back for several days, so I hear.”
Melanie knew they would try and break her spirit now , but she would stay here until the debt was paid or die in the attempt. She didn’t even bother answering the housekeeper.
Strangely, she slept well that night, not waking up until morning. Once again she dressed and washed in semi -darkness. It would never be light in this dungeon as there were no windows, only a wire vent to let in some air.
She stirred up the fire in the kitchen and replenished it with several logs, before preparing the water for Priscilla’s bath. Annie said Priscilla always took an early morning bath before breakfast, then returned to bed for a few hours. Oh, to be rich and idle. Such a pampered young woman would never have done a day ’s work in her life, not with numerous servants pandering to her every whim. What would she know of the hardships endured by the miners and their families?
Priscilla apparently insisted on clean bed linen and a fresh nightgown each morning. She would be eating alone now Michael had gone to Melbourne, because her chaperone, Mrs. Knightsbridge, still lay stricken in bed with gout. The orders were that the dining room table still needed to be set up with a fancy cloth, the best silverware and bone china. So much extra work because a spiteful, selfish woman considered no one but herself.
Straight after lunch, Melanie found out what this spoilt creature had in store, by way of punishment, for last night’s outburst. Priscilla raged at her for what seemed like hours, condemning her as a lazy, stupid interloper. “Laundry,” she finally spat out. “That’s your job from now on,” and minced off.
***
Melanie entered the stone laundry building to be met by a wall of stifling heat from the large fires serving the coppers. Perspiration broke out on her forehead within seconds.
An old crone supervised a part aboriginal girl who listlessly transferred scalding sheets from the copper with the aid of a stick, then dumped them in a trough of cold water. Melanie jumped back from the hissing steam.
L ike a witch leaning over her cauldron, the crone stabbed a bony finger at Melanie. “You girl, get over there and stir the lard for soap and candles.”
The nauseating stench from the back of the room almost overpowered Melanie, but she took up the wooden stick and started stirring the boiling mixture.
“That’s Belle.” The woman jerked her head at the girl. “I’m Mrs. Prince. Mrs. Didn’t think I got a man, did you?” Mrs. Prince cackled like a demented rooster.
How could a person endure working under
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