Post by narumei on Mar 12, 2008 3:30:41 GMT -5
“I’m stuck.”
“I beg your pardon?” Abigail had abandoned Grace to her own devises when she had insisted that she didn’t need help with the dress. Now she turned, and seeing Grace in an awkward pose, with one arm hanging out its sleeve and two thin legs peeking out the bottom, she collapsed into fits of pure laughter. “Oh, Grace! If you could see how ridiculous you look!”
“Abigail,” She groaned in misery, through the cloth, “I guess I’m just not made to wear such things.”
“Grace, don’t be so silly. You just aren’t used to it is all. Besides, most of these dresses require a second party to help put it on. Will you let me help you now?” After a long pause, Grace agreed. Still laughing Abigail went to her and took off the dress.
“Now, you must undo everything before you put it on. And you need the corset.” She explained
“Corset?!” Grace cried. “Whatever for? I don’t have anything to hold in.” colour rose to her cheeks slowly. Abigail threw her hands up in frustration
“Alright, well don’t wear one then. You are just supposed to with this, and I thought you might like it.”
“Why would I like it?” Grace asked, suspiciously.
“Oh, just the experience of it I imagine. But don’t worry, I hate wearing them as well. They’re ghastly things.” Abigail smiled at Grace and Grace smiled back. Abigail was thankful that she had made such a fast friend at the Academy. Her predictions of lonely days seemed nothing but mere shadows now. Abigail helped Grace to put on the dress, doing up the buttons and tying the bows and knots and hooking in the clips. When the dress was finally put on, they surveyed the results in the mirror.
“Grace, you look beautiful. Really, you do.” Abigail said, meaning every word. “It fits you like a glove.”
“Do you think so? It isn’t too tight is it?” She asked worriedly
“No, no it’s absolutely perfect. It really is. The colour is perfect as well.” Grace’s pale skin suited the pink perfectly and her beautiful straight hair was brought to attention by the contrast of deep brown and pale pink. She looked stunning. “Do you know what? I never actually wore this dress, besides the day my mother gave it to me. It doesn’t suit my skin, I’m too dark. Why don’t you take it off my hands for me?” Abigail asked happily. Grace spun to face her.
“Do you mean it? Really, you wouldn’t mind?” She asked, her voice getting louder and louder.
“No, of course I don’t mind. It’s just a waste of space in my closet, isn’t it? Besides, it suits you far better than it suited me. I prefer dark colours myself.” Grace looked at the floor.
“No, I couldn’t. I don’t need charity.” She said, changing her mind
“What are you talking about? It isn’t charity if you are doing a favour for me.” Abigail was desperate to give Grace a present, something that she could return in place of the kindness and understanding Grace had already shown her. She wanted to give Grace something pretty, so that she felt better about herself. “Well, how about this; because I like dark colours, we’ll make a deal. You give me your blue dress and I’ll give you this pink one. What do you say?” Abigail said, bargaining.
“You already have a blue dress,” Grace said, pulling said dress from the closet. Abigail looked at it in disgust.
“Yes, but look at the frills! And the bows! It’s awful. I’m not a frilly dress person.” Abigail said
“I suppose you’re right,” Grace started, “I mean, you don’t exactly have the feminine figure for pretty dresses like that.” Although this wasn’t exactly the answer Abigail was looking for, she took it in her stride.
“Well?” she asked, “How about it?” Grace thought for several minutes, casting her gaze from the mirror to the blue heap on the floor and back again.
“Well...ok.” She said, a grin spreading across her face.
“Well you’re going to need some jewellery to match,” Abigail said. Seeing the look of panic on Grace’s face, she added quickly, “No, just to borrow. I don’t want to trade anything else today.” Grace smiled and went with Abigail to look at the jewellery. She picked up a necklace with a tiny pink diamond on the end of a silver chain. Abigail accompanied this with a rose quartz bracelet and a silver bangle for each wrist. They made their way back to the mirror and looked at the final result.
“Well, someone should do you’re hair, but it’s getting too late to do that. Next time you wear it, come to my room and I’ll have my maid do it for you. Oh here, just pin up this one strand.” Abigail finished, pulling back a tiny lock of brown hair from Grace’s eyes and pining it straight back with a tiny silver clip.
“Oh, thank you so much! A maid doing my hair! That would be simply wonderful! Oh, Abby, thankyou so much.” In Grace’s excitement she didn’t even realise the slip-up she’d made. When she turned around, she saw Abigail looking down at her feet, her hands fiddling with the sides of her gown anxiously.
“Don’t call me Abby.” She said quietly. Graces hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, Abigail. I didn’t even realise! I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Abigail smiled, flicked her hair back and looked up.
“It’s not a problem. Don’t worry. Sorry I got so upset.” She said.
“You forgive me don’t you?” Grace asked, full of childlike fear at losing a new friend.
“Of course I forgive you. Don’t be so ridiculous. It’s fine. Now hand me the blue one will you?” Grace bent over to pick up the dress, fighting back tears that the scare had brought on. She had lost too much to lose such a nice new friend over a name. She would be careful not to make that mistake in future. She handed the dress to Abigail, who slid it on and had it done up in moments, her experience helping her with the difficulties. The dress wasn’t tight but wasn’t loose either, the colour suited her nicely and there were no bows or ribbons to get in the way. It had short sleeves that ended just after her shoulder, with a plain brass button to adjust the size. Overall the dress was plain, almost to the point of ugly, but the comfort that Abigail felt in it showed in her posture and manner, and she positively glowed with happiness at the dress. She grinned at herself in the mirror and found an equally glowing Grace ginning back. Abigail’s looks paled next to Grace, for although she was very beautiful, few could compare with the delicate exquisiteness of Grace, even Abigail’s eyes looked plain in comparison.
“Well, shall we try and get some breakfast now?” Abigail asked Grace. Grace tore her eyes away from her reflexion.
“Of course. I mean we can try.” Grace said, with a shrug. As they left the room, Grace threaded her arm through Abigail’s and they walked arm in arm down the corridor.
“Grace?” Exclaimed a girl’s voice from behind. Both girls turned to see a tall girl with magnificent blonde hair staring at Grace in shock.
“Oh, Rebecca, good morning,” She said with the smallest curtsy, still frightened of ruining the dress.
“Good morning, yourself.” said Rebecca. “What are you wearing?” she continued.
“Why, Rebecca! Anyone can plainly see that I’m wearing a dress.” Grace said, sarcastically.
“Well of course I can see that. But it’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” she asked her.
“I got it as a gift, from a very close friend.” Grace grinned, “Didn’t I, Abigail?”
“That’s right.” Abigail grinned back. “She did.” The girl called Rebecca looked over the length of Abigail and back again.
“And who are you?” She asked, although her voice revealed that she didn’t really care,
“I’m Abigail.” Abigail said, looking back at Rebecca.
“You must be the new girl then. Well, new girl, you had better watch out with handing out gifts like that. Everyone will want one soon. And by the looks of you, you probably could hardly afford that one.” She said, only glancing at Abigail side-on, taking in her poorly done hair, with the remnants of black powder still in it and her lack of jewellery. “I’m Rebecca Gilmore, you might have heard of my family,” She looked at Abigail’s dress. “...then again you probably haven’t. You must be a scholarship student right? Honestly, I don’t know why Ma lets people like you two in. You aren’t going to get anywhere are you? At least Grace has some fortune, or so they say.” She continued in the fashion, while both Abigail and Grace rolled their eyes at her. Finally Grace cut in,
“Yes, well, that’s lovely. I’m sure Abigail Bryan here agrees. Don’t you Miss Bryan?” Grace looked at Abigail and Abigail bit her tongue to fight down the laughter.
“Bryan?” Rebecca spluttered. “You’re Abigail Bryan? Of the Bryan Bristols?”
“The very same. At your service, Miss Gilmore.” Abigail said with a low bow. Now Grace had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter threatening to burst forth.
“But-but-but,”
“Oh dear, Miss Gilmore seems to be quite out of tongue, don’t you think, Grace?” Abigail said.
“Well, I do declare. So she does. Rebecca? Are you alright?” She asked lightly.
“Why are you wearing such a horrid thing?” Rebecca finally spluttered out.
“What this dress? I’ll have you know that my mother just imported this magnificent garment from France. It is the latest fashion there, I’m told. It was nearly 300 pounds, if you can believe it!” She stated, in mock disbelief.
“No! Latest fashion you say. Well, I say...quite extraordinary. I’ll send for one now too, I think.” Rebecca said.
“Oh, do! They are quite lovely. Very comfortable and lovely to wear. Consider it, won’t you? Well we had best be off now, don’t you think, Grace?” Abigail said
“I think that is a splendid idea, Abigail.” Grace replied.
“Shall we then?” And with that Abigail and Grace re-linked their arms and continued down the corridor, giggling into the backs of their hands the entire way.
“Oh, Abigail! That was so much fun! To think, you will probably start a trend of dresses like that now.”
“Well and why not? They are delightfully comfortable.” Abigail said, fingering the folds of fabric.
“Yes, they are but they are quite ugly.” Grace said, Abigail raised an eyebrow. “No! I didn’t mean that it was ugly on you! You suit it magnificently and you look very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Abigail said back, “So do you.” They made their way to the kitchens, Grace stopping every now and then to show Abigail something about the school. Sometimes she showed her different rooms and spoke of different teachers and sometimes she showed her marks or holes in the walls, accompanying them with elaborate stories of the maker of the mark. Eventually they reached the kitchen. Maids and cooks were scurrying in and out of the many doors that led to the kitchen, busily preparing for the demands of the day. Abigail and Grace approached one of the doors and looked through the window into the kitchen.
“Grace! What on earth are you doing here?!” Abigail and Grace sprang back from the door and turned around, Grace looking sheepish, Abigail laughing.
“Miss Abigail missed breakfast this morning. We were wondering if we could grab something to eat.” Grace said to a maid who was half-in-half-out of a door. The maid was very tall, towering over both girls. She was very young but her hair was white, Abigail realised with a start. Upon closer inspection, however, she realised that it was not in fact white, but very very blonde.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Abigail,” said the maid with a curtsy in Abigail’s direction. Abigail bobbed her head lightly in response.
“Yes, Abigail, this is Chantelle, she’s the first kitchen maid.” Grace said proudly,
“What does that mean?” Abigail asked.
“It means she’s the best!” Grace exclaimed.
“Oh hush, Gracie.” Abigail raised her eyebrows at the nickname, “It means that I’m second in command in the kitchen. The first is the cook, or chef, then me, basically just making sure everyone does what they are supposed to and taking over for the cook when she’s busy.”
“Wow!” said Abigail, genuinely interested “That’s amazing. How do you deal with so much responsibility?”
“Oh well,” Chantelle said, taken aback by the admiration in Abigail’s eyes. “I don’t know if it’s really all that much, but I try my best.” She smiled down at Abigail. “Well, if you two wait here, I’ll bring you something to eat. I would bring you into the kitchen, but you know what cook’s like.” She rolled her eyes and went back through the door to the kitchen, Abigail and Grace both watched her through the glass windows. Abigail turned at looked at Grace,
“Gracie?” She asked questioningly. Grace turned a bright red and she snapped her head sideways to look at Abigail.
“Only Chantelle calls me that. She always has. Don’t get any ideas! She’s the only one allowed.”
“I see, so I am not the only one here with a nick-name problem.” Abigail smiled. Although Abigail didn’t think it possible, Grace turned an even deeper red.
“Yes, well, nobody likes being called a name other than their own do they?”
“But I didn’t think that Grace was a name by itself. Isn’t it a shorter name for something else?” Grace’s blush spread over her cheeks until it almost covered her entire face.
“Well, my name is actually Grace. But yes, it is a name originally derived from something longer.”
“Which is what exactly?” Abigail asked.
“Gracelia.” Grace said, turning away.
“Gracelia,” Abigail said slowly, contemplative. “Why, whatever is wrong with that name? It’s lovely. It sounds very foreign.”
“Yes, it is Spanish. I think. I can’t quite remember.”
“Well, I think it is a very noble name.” Abigail said, with a sniff.
“Well I think-” Grace started hotly, but stopped when Chantelle returned.
“Good heavens, Gracie. Are you feeling alright? You’re all flushed!” again Abigail raised her eyebrows, mulling over how well Chantelle spoke for a kitchen maid.
“No no, I’m absolutely fine. It must be hotter around the kitchens then I thought originally. Not to worry.” Grace looked down at a tray that Chantelle was holding. There was a thin white cloth covering the tray, but the lumps which were food were clearly visible. Abigail and Grace looked and made out shapes of bowls, spoons, and glasses, but also a long oval shaped thing that wasn’t so easy to recognise.
“Ta daa!” Chantelle said, pulling off the white cloth “Bon apetit, ma Cherie.” Abigail only had a quick glance at the food, and saw that the long thing was rolls of bread, before what Chantelle said actually hit her.
“Wait a minute!” Abigail exclaimed, curiosity overcoming her better judgement. “You speak perfect English, you know French and you are a first maid at so young an age. Who are you?”
“Abigail! Do not ask such questions! Don’t you know how rude you sound?” Abigail had the decency to look ashamed of herself. Although she felt curiosity bubbling in her core, she quickly made amends,
“I am terribly sorry, Miss Chantelle. I spoke out of place.” Abigail said.
“Not to worry at all Miss Abby. It is not a problem to me.” Abigail momentarily tensed at hearing herself addressed as “Abby” but after an instant of worry, she relaxed. She didn’t mind in the slightest Chantelle calling her Abby. While the name “Abby” sounded so childish from other people, she felt exactly the same when Chantelle said it. She must have been considering it longer than the split second it felt because when she snapped back Grace and Chantelle were exchanging meaningful glances.
“Well, I had best be going. I have wasted quite a fair amount of time already. Now you two eat that here, I don’t want you getting caught, ok? When you’re finished, just leave the tray and plates here.”
“Thank you so much!” Grace said
“Yes, thank you.” Abigail echoed, her voice still containing a hint of both accusation and suspicion.
Chantelle hurried off down the hall and disappeared around the corner. Abigail turned to the food and found Grace staring at her.
“You mustn’t pry, Abigail. You must leave Chantelle alone about how she is ok?”
“But who is she? Why does she speak so well? She speaks better than both of us.” Abigail said, her mind reeling with questions.
“Abigail!” Grace said sharply. “You mustn’t. Please, Abigail. Please?” The desperation in Grace’s voice was the only thing that stopped her asking questions.
“Ok. I’m sorry. Shall we eat now?”
“Yes, of course, come sit down against the wall.” Grace invited. Abigail went and sat. They ate in silence for a very long time. Finally, Grace broke the stillness between them. “It’s strange isn’t it? How she can call you anything she wants and it still sounds fine.”
“Whom?” Abigail asked, engrossed in buttering her bread.
“Chantelle of course!” Grace said.
“If you don’t want me to ask questions about her, Grace, don’t bring her up. I assure you that I had quite forgotten about it until you brought it up again.”
“Oh, ok. Sorry then.” And they continued to eat in silence, an awkward rift between them now. When they had finished their food, the left the plates by the door, stacked neatly to allow as little work as possible for whoever had to clean it up.
“I beg your pardon?” Abigail had abandoned Grace to her own devises when she had insisted that she didn’t need help with the dress. Now she turned, and seeing Grace in an awkward pose, with one arm hanging out its sleeve and two thin legs peeking out the bottom, she collapsed into fits of pure laughter. “Oh, Grace! If you could see how ridiculous you look!”
“Abigail,” She groaned in misery, through the cloth, “I guess I’m just not made to wear such things.”
“Grace, don’t be so silly. You just aren’t used to it is all. Besides, most of these dresses require a second party to help put it on. Will you let me help you now?” After a long pause, Grace agreed. Still laughing Abigail went to her and took off the dress.
“Now, you must undo everything before you put it on. And you need the corset.” She explained
“Corset?!” Grace cried. “Whatever for? I don’t have anything to hold in.” colour rose to her cheeks slowly. Abigail threw her hands up in frustration
“Alright, well don’t wear one then. You are just supposed to with this, and I thought you might like it.”
“Why would I like it?” Grace asked, suspiciously.
“Oh, just the experience of it I imagine. But don’t worry, I hate wearing them as well. They’re ghastly things.” Abigail smiled at Grace and Grace smiled back. Abigail was thankful that she had made such a fast friend at the Academy. Her predictions of lonely days seemed nothing but mere shadows now. Abigail helped Grace to put on the dress, doing up the buttons and tying the bows and knots and hooking in the clips. When the dress was finally put on, they surveyed the results in the mirror.
“Grace, you look beautiful. Really, you do.” Abigail said, meaning every word. “It fits you like a glove.”
“Do you think so? It isn’t too tight is it?” She asked worriedly
“No, no it’s absolutely perfect. It really is. The colour is perfect as well.” Grace’s pale skin suited the pink perfectly and her beautiful straight hair was brought to attention by the contrast of deep brown and pale pink. She looked stunning. “Do you know what? I never actually wore this dress, besides the day my mother gave it to me. It doesn’t suit my skin, I’m too dark. Why don’t you take it off my hands for me?” Abigail asked happily. Grace spun to face her.
“Do you mean it? Really, you wouldn’t mind?” She asked, her voice getting louder and louder.
“No, of course I don’t mind. It’s just a waste of space in my closet, isn’t it? Besides, it suits you far better than it suited me. I prefer dark colours myself.” Grace looked at the floor.
“No, I couldn’t. I don’t need charity.” She said, changing her mind
“What are you talking about? It isn’t charity if you are doing a favour for me.” Abigail was desperate to give Grace a present, something that she could return in place of the kindness and understanding Grace had already shown her. She wanted to give Grace something pretty, so that she felt better about herself. “Well, how about this; because I like dark colours, we’ll make a deal. You give me your blue dress and I’ll give you this pink one. What do you say?” Abigail said, bargaining.
“You already have a blue dress,” Grace said, pulling said dress from the closet. Abigail looked at it in disgust.
“Yes, but look at the frills! And the bows! It’s awful. I’m not a frilly dress person.” Abigail said
“I suppose you’re right,” Grace started, “I mean, you don’t exactly have the feminine figure for pretty dresses like that.” Although this wasn’t exactly the answer Abigail was looking for, she took it in her stride.
“Well?” she asked, “How about it?” Grace thought for several minutes, casting her gaze from the mirror to the blue heap on the floor and back again.
“Well...ok.” She said, a grin spreading across her face.
“Well you’re going to need some jewellery to match,” Abigail said. Seeing the look of panic on Grace’s face, she added quickly, “No, just to borrow. I don’t want to trade anything else today.” Grace smiled and went with Abigail to look at the jewellery. She picked up a necklace with a tiny pink diamond on the end of a silver chain. Abigail accompanied this with a rose quartz bracelet and a silver bangle for each wrist. They made their way back to the mirror and looked at the final result.
“Well, someone should do you’re hair, but it’s getting too late to do that. Next time you wear it, come to my room and I’ll have my maid do it for you. Oh here, just pin up this one strand.” Abigail finished, pulling back a tiny lock of brown hair from Grace’s eyes and pining it straight back with a tiny silver clip.
“Oh, thank you so much! A maid doing my hair! That would be simply wonderful! Oh, Abby, thankyou so much.” In Grace’s excitement she didn’t even realise the slip-up she’d made. When she turned around, she saw Abigail looking down at her feet, her hands fiddling with the sides of her gown anxiously.
“Don’t call me Abby.” She said quietly. Graces hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, Abigail. I didn’t even realise! I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Abigail smiled, flicked her hair back and looked up.
“It’s not a problem. Don’t worry. Sorry I got so upset.” She said.
“You forgive me don’t you?” Grace asked, full of childlike fear at losing a new friend.
“Of course I forgive you. Don’t be so ridiculous. It’s fine. Now hand me the blue one will you?” Grace bent over to pick up the dress, fighting back tears that the scare had brought on. She had lost too much to lose such a nice new friend over a name. She would be careful not to make that mistake in future. She handed the dress to Abigail, who slid it on and had it done up in moments, her experience helping her with the difficulties. The dress wasn’t tight but wasn’t loose either, the colour suited her nicely and there were no bows or ribbons to get in the way. It had short sleeves that ended just after her shoulder, with a plain brass button to adjust the size. Overall the dress was plain, almost to the point of ugly, but the comfort that Abigail felt in it showed in her posture and manner, and she positively glowed with happiness at the dress. She grinned at herself in the mirror and found an equally glowing Grace ginning back. Abigail’s looks paled next to Grace, for although she was very beautiful, few could compare with the delicate exquisiteness of Grace, even Abigail’s eyes looked plain in comparison.
“Well, shall we try and get some breakfast now?” Abigail asked Grace. Grace tore her eyes away from her reflexion.
“Of course. I mean we can try.” Grace said, with a shrug. As they left the room, Grace threaded her arm through Abigail’s and they walked arm in arm down the corridor.
“Grace?” Exclaimed a girl’s voice from behind. Both girls turned to see a tall girl with magnificent blonde hair staring at Grace in shock.
“Oh, Rebecca, good morning,” She said with the smallest curtsy, still frightened of ruining the dress.
“Good morning, yourself.” said Rebecca. “What are you wearing?” she continued.
“Why, Rebecca! Anyone can plainly see that I’m wearing a dress.” Grace said, sarcastically.
“Well of course I can see that. But it’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” she asked her.
“I got it as a gift, from a very close friend.” Grace grinned, “Didn’t I, Abigail?”
“That’s right.” Abigail grinned back. “She did.” The girl called Rebecca looked over the length of Abigail and back again.
“And who are you?” She asked, although her voice revealed that she didn’t really care,
“I’m Abigail.” Abigail said, looking back at Rebecca.
“You must be the new girl then. Well, new girl, you had better watch out with handing out gifts like that. Everyone will want one soon. And by the looks of you, you probably could hardly afford that one.” She said, only glancing at Abigail side-on, taking in her poorly done hair, with the remnants of black powder still in it and her lack of jewellery. “I’m Rebecca Gilmore, you might have heard of my family,” She looked at Abigail’s dress. “...then again you probably haven’t. You must be a scholarship student right? Honestly, I don’t know why Ma lets people like you two in. You aren’t going to get anywhere are you? At least Grace has some fortune, or so they say.” She continued in the fashion, while both Abigail and Grace rolled their eyes at her. Finally Grace cut in,
“Yes, well, that’s lovely. I’m sure Abigail Bryan here agrees. Don’t you Miss Bryan?” Grace looked at Abigail and Abigail bit her tongue to fight down the laughter.
“Bryan?” Rebecca spluttered. “You’re Abigail Bryan? Of the Bryan Bristols?”
“The very same. At your service, Miss Gilmore.” Abigail said with a low bow. Now Grace had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter threatening to burst forth.
“But-but-but,”
“Oh dear, Miss Gilmore seems to be quite out of tongue, don’t you think, Grace?” Abigail said.
“Well, I do declare. So she does. Rebecca? Are you alright?” She asked lightly.
“Why are you wearing such a horrid thing?” Rebecca finally spluttered out.
“What this dress? I’ll have you know that my mother just imported this magnificent garment from France. It is the latest fashion there, I’m told. It was nearly 300 pounds, if you can believe it!” She stated, in mock disbelief.
“No! Latest fashion you say. Well, I say...quite extraordinary. I’ll send for one now too, I think.” Rebecca said.
“Oh, do! They are quite lovely. Very comfortable and lovely to wear. Consider it, won’t you? Well we had best be off now, don’t you think, Grace?” Abigail said
“I think that is a splendid idea, Abigail.” Grace replied.
“Shall we then?” And with that Abigail and Grace re-linked their arms and continued down the corridor, giggling into the backs of their hands the entire way.
“Oh, Abigail! That was so much fun! To think, you will probably start a trend of dresses like that now.”
“Well and why not? They are delightfully comfortable.” Abigail said, fingering the folds of fabric.
“Yes, they are but they are quite ugly.” Grace said, Abigail raised an eyebrow. “No! I didn’t mean that it was ugly on you! You suit it magnificently and you look very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Abigail said back, “So do you.” They made their way to the kitchens, Grace stopping every now and then to show Abigail something about the school. Sometimes she showed her different rooms and spoke of different teachers and sometimes she showed her marks or holes in the walls, accompanying them with elaborate stories of the maker of the mark. Eventually they reached the kitchen. Maids and cooks were scurrying in and out of the many doors that led to the kitchen, busily preparing for the demands of the day. Abigail and Grace approached one of the doors and looked through the window into the kitchen.
“Grace! What on earth are you doing here?!” Abigail and Grace sprang back from the door and turned around, Grace looking sheepish, Abigail laughing.
“Miss Abigail missed breakfast this morning. We were wondering if we could grab something to eat.” Grace said to a maid who was half-in-half-out of a door. The maid was very tall, towering over both girls. She was very young but her hair was white, Abigail realised with a start. Upon closer inspection, however, she realised that it was not in fact white, but very very blonde.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Abigail,” said the maid with a curtsy in Abigail’s direction. Abigail bobbed her head lightly in response.
“Yes, Abigail, this is Chantelle, she’s the first kitchen maid.” Grace said proudly,
“What does that mean?” Abigail asked.
“It means she’s the best!” Grace exclaimed.
“Oh hush, Gracie.” Abigail raised her eyebrows at the nickname, “It means that I’m second in command in the kitchen. The first is the cook, or chef, then me, basically just making sure everyone does what they are supposed to and taking over for the cook when she’s busy.”
“Wow!” said Abigail, genuinely interested “That’s amazing. How do you deal with so much responsibility?”
“Oh well,” Chantelle said, taken aback by the admiration in Abigail’s eyes. “I don’t know if it’s really all that much, but I try my best.” She smiled down at Abigail. “Well, if you two wait here, I’ll bring you something to eat. I would bring you into the kitchen, but you know what cook’s like.” She rolled her eyes and went back through the door to the kitchen, Abigail and Grace both watched her through the glass windows. Abigail turned at looked at Grace,
“Gracie?” She asked questioningly. Grace turned a bright red and she snapped her head sideways to look at Abigail.
“Only Chantelle calls me that. She always has. Don’t get any ideas! She’s the only one allowed.”
“I see, so I am not the only one here with a nick-name problem.” Abigail smiled. Although Abigail didn’t think it possible, Grace turned an even deeper red.
“Yes, well, nobody likes being called a name other than their own do they?”
“But I didn’t think that Grace was a name by itself. Isn’t it a shorter name for something else?” Grace’s blush spread over her cheeks until it almost covered her entire face.
“Well, my name is actually Grace. But yes, it is a name originally derived from something longer.”
“Which is what exactly?” Abigail asked.
“Gracelia.” Grace said, turning away.
“Gracelia,” Abigail said slowly, contemplative. “Why, whatever is wrong with that name? It’s lovely. It sounds very foreign.”
“Yes, it is Spanish. I think. I can’t quite remember.”
“Well, I think it is a very noble name.” Abigail said, with a sniff.
“Well I think-” Grace started hotly, but stopped when Chantelle returned.
“Good heavens, Gracie. Are you feeling alright? You’re all flushed!” again Abigail raised her eyebrows, mulling over how well Chantelle spoke for a kitchen maid.
“No no, I’m absolutely fine. It must be hotter around the kitchens then I thought originally. Not to worry.” Grace looked down at a tray that Chantelle was holding. There was a thin white cloth covering the tray, but the lumps which were food were clearly visible. Abigail and Grace looked and made out shapes of bowls, spoons, and glasses, but also a long oval shaped thing that wasn’t so easy to recognise.
“Ta daa!” Chantelle said, pulling off the white cloth “Bon apetit, ma Cherie.” Abigail only had a quick glance at the food, and saw that the long thing was rolls of bread, before what Chantelle said actually hit her.
“Wait a minute!” Abigail exclaimed, curiosity overcoming her better judgement. “You speak perfect English, you know French and you are a first maid at so young an age. Who are you?”
“Abigail! Do not ask such questions! Don’t you know how rude you sound?” Abigail had the decency to look ashamed of herself. Although she felt curiosity bubbling in her core, she quickly made amends,
“I am terribly sorry, Miss Chantelle. I spoke out of place.” Abigail said.
“Not to worry at all Miss Abby. It is not a problem to me.” Abigail momentarily tensed at hearing herself addressed as “Abby” but after an instant of worry, she relaxed. She didn’t mind in the slightest Chantelle calling her Abby. While the name “Abby” sounded so childish from other people, she felt exactly the same when Chantelle said it. She must have been considering it longer than the split second it felt because when she snapped back Grace and Chantelle were exchanging meaningful glances.
“Well, I had best be going. I have wasted quite a fair amount of time already. Now you two eat that here, I don’t want you getting caught, ok? When you’re finished, just leave the tray and plates here.”
“Thank you so much!” Grace said
“Yes, thank you.” Abigail echoed, her voice still containing a hint of both accusation and suspicion.
Chantelle hurried off down the hall and disappeared around the corner. Abigail turned to the food and found Grace staring at her.
“You mustn’t pry, Abigail. You must leave Chantelle alone about how she is ok?”
“But who is she? Why does she speak so well? She speaks better than both of us.” Abigail said, her mind reeling with questions.
“Abigail!” Grace said sharply. “You mustn’t. Please, Abigail. Please?” The desperation in Grace’s voice was the only thing that stopped her asking questions.
“Ok. I’m sorry. Shall we eat now?”
“Yes, of course, come sit down against the wall.” Grace invited. Abigail went and sat. They ate in silence for a very long time. Finally, Grace broke the stillness between them. “It’s strange isn’t it? How she can call you anything she wants and it still sounds fine.”
“Whom?” Abigail asked, engrossed in buttering her bread.
“Chantelle of course!” Grace said.
“If you don’t want me to ask questions about her, Grace, don’t bring her up. I assure you that I had quite forgotten about it until you brought it up again.”
“Oh, ok. Sorry then.” And they continued to eat in silence, an awkward rift between them now. When they had finished their food, the left the plates by the door, stacked neatly to allow as little work as possible for whoever had to clean it up.