Long before the dawn comes in my window, there is a gentle knock on my door and a voice whispering loudly, "Miss. I'm sorry, but it's time for you to get up."
I mumble, "All right," and pile out of bed, the events of the days before pouring in on my mind like a huge bad dream and I..."Wait. Please wait till I get dressed 'cause I don't know what to do and someone's got to show me. Please come in." I push down the urge to cry and I splash water on my face to hide any tears that might want to come and I start to put on my clothes.
The girl Annie opens the door and comes in and sees me fumbling with my new gear. "Here. Put the blouse on first," she says, picking it up and handing it to me. I slip it over my head. "Now the skirt. The weskit straps go over your shoulders and it tucks into here and goes over the bottom part of the blouse and laces up the front. Take a breath while I cinch it up. There." She pauses in her instructions and then says, "I'm sorry, Miss, that you..."
"It's not Miss anymore, Annie, it's Tacky, and don't be sorry. It's nobody's fault but mine." I run my brush through my hair. "Do we have time to braid my pigtail?"
"We have time. Peg knew you'd need some time getting used to things so she sent me up early." She takes my hair, separates it deftly into three parts, and then braids it up with brisk efficiency. I had been wearing my hair tied up loose with ringlets hanging by my face like the other girls, but now that I'm downstairs and no longer a lady-in-training, I figure I'd better put it back in working trim. This new outfit feels trim, too. The weskit clutching my lower ribs puts me in mind of Charlie's old blue vest I used to wear on the ship to hide the fact that I was a girl. 'Cept this vest only covers up my lower ribs, leavin' my chest free to roam under the soft white shirt. Not that there's that much of me to bounce about under there, but still it's more comfortable this way, rather than being mashed down like I had to keep it when I was a boy on the ship. This skirt only comes down to mid-calf, so it'll be easier to get around in.
"This ain't a bad rig," I says, pullin' the bottom of the weskit down over the waist of the skirt.
"It isn't exactly the highest style," says Annie with a bright smile, "but if Mistress wants to dress us up as milkmaids, well, it's her school."
"What do we do first?" I ask, as I sit back on the bed to pull on my stockings.
"First we bring up the water and fill the pitchers in the ladies' privy and set the table for their breakfast, and then we ring the bell to get them up and while they're getting dressed and ready we eat our breakfast, and then one of us plays the chimes to call them to their breakfast. Some of us help Peg cook the breakfast and some serve it, and some of us come up and clean the privy and make the beds. And that's just for starters." She pauses and comes around the bed. "And speaking of beds, we should make yours. If Mistress comes up and sees it unmade you'll catch it."
"Thanks for looking out for me, Annie. You've done that since the first day I got here and I won't forget it."
Annie and I creep down the stairs and we meet the others coming up the stairs with buckets of steaming water, and I see that Betsey has one in each hand so I reach over and take one of them and we all walk silently through the hall of sleeping girls to the privy. We dump the water out of the pitchers and fill them with warm water and gather up all the used towels and washrags and clean up the basins a bit and then heads back out. When we're all out of the dormitory, Rachel, the oldest of the serving girls, rings the bell hanging outside the door and I hear groans from the ladies within.
"That's my favorite thing to do in this place—wakin' up the little darlings," whispers Rachel. The first light of dawn is beginning to show in the windows and I can see Rachel's toothy white smile shining in the gloom.
We all go down the stairs into the kitchen where the veil of silence is suddenly lifted and everyone's talking and laughing and there's a great banging of pots and pans and hissing of steam and there's Peg standing at the stove working the spatula on a griddle of eggs and bacon and Peg turns 'round and points the spatula at me and says, "This here's Jacky and she'll be joinin' our merry band! Make her welcome!"
And they do. They all plop down at a long table and Annie pats the place next to her and I sit there, and Betsey goes to the stove and gets plates of eggs and bacon and toast and puts a plate before each of us, and the girl Rachel pours the tea and I figures that they take turns in this duty so that they'll all be served like ladies some of the time.
"That's Rachel, who's going to be married in the spring," says Annie, nodding toward Rachel who is now blushing 'cause some of the other girls have got off some rude comments at the mention of her upcoming marriage. She looks to be about eighteen. "And that's my sister, Betsey, there. And that's Abby and that's Sylvie."
All the girls nod and smile at the mention of their names. I, of course, already knew their names, but still I nod and smile at the mention of each. Annie's got hair that's close to mine in color but more curly, and her sister has the same, but while Annie's got a broad nose with a saddle of freckles on it and a generous mouth and wide-set brown eyes, Betsey's nose is sharp and her mouth is small and prim and her eyes are blue. They still look like sisters, though, and it's plain they have great affection for each other.
Abby's a round-faced girl with a large chest and a mop of red hair and the devil in her eye, and then there's Sylvie, small and dark and quiet, and very shy.
We dive into breakfast and it is very good. It is a strange thing, but no calamity ever seems to be big enough to put a dent in my appetite. As I'm tucking it away, I notice them all looking at me. With my teeth in a piece of toast I raise my eyebrows in question.
"Well, that's us," says Abby, "but what about you?"
"Oh," I say, and leave off packing it in for a bit. I dab my mouth with my napkin. "Well, I know you all saw that I got in a bit of trouble. I saw your faces pressed to the windows when I was brought back. You can't deny it."
They all look a bit sheepish at that, as they know it's true, but I says, "I don't blame you for it 'cause my face would've been pressed up there, too, if the situation was reversed. The truth of the matter is that I got arrested for singing and dancing in the street and the showing of my bare left knee in the performance of it, and I was taken to court and convicted, and Mistress didn't take it kindly at all and said that I'd brought disgrace to her school and I didn't belong upstairs and here I am." And, I say to myself, if you shun me, too, then I shall run out of this room and grab my seabag and be gone.
But they don't. They just laugh and giggle and say that there's got to be more than that to the story and let's have it, Jacky, but Peg up and says, "Let's finish up, girls, it's time to feed our ladies. There's plenty of time for tellin' lies later. Let's go. Annie, Betsey, and Rachel, to the serving. Let's get those trays loaded up. Jacky, Sylvie, and Abby, to the beds and privy. All back afterwards for the scrubbin' up."
That night, while I lay curled up in a ball under the covers on my bed, I thought long and hard about what I was going to do. I had thought about running away and maybe picking up some money playing in the taverns till I got enough to get back to England and Jaimy, but I saw yesterday just how far my pennywhistle took me, which was straight to jail, and besides I wouldn't have no place to stay and winter's coming on and Amy says winters are fierce around here. Or rather Miss Trevelyne says that. I must remember my place.
No, I must stay here for now, at least till spring, where I have warm lodging and some protection. I will go see Mr. Pickering as soon as I can to tell him that I want him to try really hard to get me my money back. Get it back before it is claimed by some man as my dowry. I shivered at that thought—I will run away if that happens.
I will look around for other employment or other opportunities that might present themselves. Who knows? Something might turn up before spring.
I will stay here and I will endure my shame. They will not see me cry. I will not whine and I will not complain. I know there is much to be learned downstairs and I will learn it and I know I will profit by it. I will continue with my former studies as best I can.
I will stay here and I will be the best chambermaid that I can be.