Chapter 7 Welcome to Marine Hall

It was at night. The entire previous day the sky was of a lead colour. Then it was pitch black and heavy shower was pouring. The girls were almost asleep and had to rise in such awful conditions. Coming out of the carriage Rosie was very near to fall into an enormous dark puddle. The rain was such that it seemed that not drops – eggs hit their entire company. Mr Crookins hold a lantern in one his hand and with another one led our dear lasses, who were coupled and supported each other. Everyone tried to take cover under the worthless shelter of their cloaks. The weather was severe and inhospitable. Also a cool nasty wind rose. It blew in the opposite direction of their way, right in their faces, removing their coats and making our company open to downpour. Water ran their skins. The ground softened and was just treacherously waiting for someone to slip and fall into the mud. But our small party had to make their way through all these obstacles and struggle with ruthless powers of nature. Hardly ever something could have been seen except some distant yellowish stripe of light. With great difficulty but our group moved somehow ahead. Soon in a high doorway a silhouette in a cap was discerned. A strong voice shouting gave instructions to the coachman, whose mission was even more advanced. That must have been a housekeeper. Our characters were finally on stony steps of a porch. The figure told them to come in fast away from that rain. At last! The indoors! They found themselves in a great hall. They all looked at the only person that came to meet them and at once there was a great scream. It was the work of women of course. The scared girls panting looked at the housekeeper. She was so black that at first they took her for some demon. Well, they had seen a lot of black servants in London but so black – never. Her skin was of a colour of coal. At its background snow-white eyeballs, teeth and cap were notable very well (even too well). The housekeeper too was no less scared and in the same way looked at Rosie. She had never seen such white skin before! By her side she took her for a vampire... Mr Crookins looked at this picture not knowing what to say. The first one who spoke after some time of silence was Jenny but her only words were: "Well, this is a fine thing..." "You must be young Lady Vernon. Miss Rosamund, aren't you?" gathered her thoughts at last the housekeeper. Rosie still shocked a bit nodded to her silently. "And you are Mr Crookins. And you..." she addressed to another girl. "Jenny..." "Oh... All of you soaked to skin. Here take these rugs. Come with me to the kitchen. There you will get some warm and food. You must be very tired after such long and arduous journey." "Yes, please..." Rosie didn't know how to call her. "Call me Tilly." "All right, Tilly." They went to the great stony kitchen with a large oven, by which side bustled about a fat rude woman. When she saw guests in her territory and noticed among them her young delicate lady she gasped and dropped some vessel to break in pieces against the floor. Jenny went to the oven. After her reconnaissance operation had passed successfully she asked her mistress to come up to fire too. The cook came up to her as if to look at the world's wonder. "Oh, wot butiful yong lady... An' wot li'le 'ands..." "What? Ah... Hands..." Rosie made a humble scared smile. "Ruth, where is Thomas?" Tilly asked sternly. "Donnow, mabby 'e is in closet." "Our young lady has come from London. She is used to be served in the most perfect way. Our way cannot be perfect but at least we should make it decent enough." A loud wailing, which was supposed to be singing, and very heavy steps were heard. A big man came into the kitchen with a ladder continuing his "aria". He was as plump as the woman. He had a greasy and stiff as if made of wires greying beard, his hair too needed care. His hands and feet were of an unusual for Rosie's eye great size. And from him came a real smell of spirits with natural unwashedness. "'ere is thou, me dear," he said in a strong rough bass to the cook leaving his ladder at a wall. "Ol' drunkar. Agan?" He mumbled something, which was ununderstandable for Miss Rosamund at all. Then he looked at Jenny, came up, and bent to her. "An' what we 'ave 'ere? A prety damzul," he also noticed Rosie. "Ah! Two prety damzuls." "Thomas!" the housekeeper exclaimed in a commanding tone. "Stand where I show you. You, Ruth, too. I inform you, the daughter of our master has come." Rosie moved to the centre of this room and stood looking at the staff. "Ah... Mas'er's daugh'er." Thomas bowed his head. He was devouring her with his eyes and a strange and very unpleasant grim appeared on his face. The cook too seemed not to like it and hit him with an elbow. "As you can see, Miss Rosamund, this mansion is desert, forgotten and rather neglected," Tilly said. "Most of it is unliveable and a great quantity of servants is useless here. Here is all our staff. I run the household, Thomas repairs everything that can be repaired here and his wife Ruth is a cook. Perhaps you will find this place too much intolerable for you after London. "No, conversely. My parents sent me here away from the great city to give me some rest of bustling "civilisation". I consider that such run of things would be most suitable for me now. To tell you the truth, I have never needed much. The only thing I ask you, don't trouble yourselves trying to please me because with this you will only trouble me. I have my maid with me and this is absolutely enough. And now would you mind? We all are very tired and hungry. "Of course, your ladyship. Our dining room hasn't been exploited by lords for ages so you may understand its state. Besides, we are just servants and eat here." "That does not matter. I would gladly eat anywhere." With these words Miss Rosamund took her sit at a kitchen table and invited Jenny, Mr Crookins and the coachman to join her. It astonished everyone. Seeing that "a beautiful young lady" is on top of it very civil, the cook with all of her swiftness began doing her magic. The dinner was far not exquisite but Rosie was so hungry that ate everything. Looking at this lively appetite Tilly got easy at last and went somewhere. She was an offspring of Central Africa, where the sun is always hot. Being a little girl she was deported to West Indies and bought by Rosie's grandfather to be a bedroom slave to his young wife. That woman's complexion was brownish and Tilly wouldn't see others ladies. So my dear reader you should understand her shock. She was taught to read to her lady, write, count and run little household of her own. She came out to be a studious pupil while her lady, rather a foolish woman, was not interested at all in any kind of business. Hence, little by little the black girl advanced in her skills and power. When late Lord Vernon became late, she moved with her mistress as her property to England to this dismal place. Even here she remained loyal to herself and got a grip of all business. Tilly really deserved the rank of a housekeeper. Oh, how ironically... She alone in this place had good English and her language was much better than of pure local informants. The strangest thing was that before she went she had told Thomas to feed someone. This someone was a woman... Rosie thanked the cook for the dinner (shocking her even more. No one here had ever thanked her for her labour till then.) and declared that she wanted to go to bed. The cook called with unusually loud voice for Tilly. She came. "I prepared the most comfortable room for you. Only it is cold here by nights. Your maid should thoroughly warm your bed." The cook handed Jenny an implement which was like a large frying pan full of coals and then told her to return it back by all means. Tilly told them to follow her. Their way went through deterrent staircase and dark dim corridor. The housekeeper opened at last a heavy door from dark unpainted wood. They went into a room of medium sizes and oblong plan with one but rather large window, behind which it was showering even with bigger energy. On a stony floor there was some fur skin. The walls were hidden behind brownish tapestry that had lost its colour with age like Muslims under their veils. The room was old-fashionably furnished with a big bed near one wall and chest in its foundation and a desk with a chair. "Some your things were put here..." The woman pointed at the chest. "...and here." ...to the box in a corner. "Do you want them to be put in some special way?" "I'll put them myself. Thank you, Tilly." A bit surprised Tilly came up to the second door in this room and opened it. "This is a room for your maid." The young girls looked in. That room was of much more modest sizes and furnishment. There were only a narrow bed and drawers. "Well enough for me," Jenny said. "Should you need me, Miss Rosamund, ring this bell," Tilly pointed to the rope near one wall. "I on purpose made Thomas get it in order before your arrival. "You excellently succeeded in your duties, Tilly. Now, please, leave us. We need some rest." "As you please, Your Ladyship." The black old woman went. Jenny undressed her mistress, handed her a warm dressing gown, and began getting in use her bed-warmer. "Oh, this thing is like slightly burnt cast-iron pot. It sometimes seemed that some dead woman lay in earth bearing natural processes and then by some uneven reason got up and began walking among live." "Jenny, this woman is thrice older than you. Have some respect to elderly generation." "Rather ancient." "Are you ready?" "Want to get rid of me too, yeah?" "No. Please... Oh, Jenny, I am so tired." "As you please, Your Ladyship," Jenny said with a mowing simulated voice. "Oh, Jenny..." Rosie chuckled. "You are a little devil..." "Yes, I am such." She locked herself in her room. Rosie blown out candles and lay on this a-little-bit-scary bed. After a long journey she dozed well. Only her dream was very frightful. It was as if from patches. She often had patch-ones but they always consisted of some ridiculous nonsense. This was quite another. She saw some vague figures in the mist, wild storm, raged waves, Dellis's image, high rocks, black clouds, some sapphire jewel, which she had never seen, some laughs were heard and then she seemed to be on a ship... A captain ardently argued with his crew. Those were rude, dirty men with very unpleasant mean rough voices. She didn't want to be there, she wanted to fly somewhere. Suddenly the captain began moving in her direction. She threw herself overboard into the black deep... She woke up panting in the shaken up bed. It was very dark. Rain drummed and sowed some anxiety. There was something evil in those sounds. The girl tried to get asleep once more. Different thoughts about past and future flowed over her. Oh, this dreadful melancholic remembrances. Then she wanted neither her parents, nor Fitzroy, nor even Dellis. She needed to be free from all these feeble passions, thoughts of your own good and comfort... Oh, and how chilly it was... Suddenly Rosie heard some squeaking. It was very like... a mouse! She half-rose and tried to look into this thorough darkness with her cat-like eyes. Indeed on the black floor she could see a little greyish silhouette. It was it, a little beast that seems so harmless but in fact could be a carrier of many dangerous deceases, the infamous creature... Besides, it could nibble her things! Very important things! They girl clenched her teeth by disgust. Well, there could be just one and by the law of nature survives the stronger one. Rosie took a handkerchief. Should she have touched this small monster with a bear hand of hers to catch something? The mouse was busy with something. Rosie left her bed and walked slowly with a hand in the kerchief. Little by little, as quite as she could she approached her prey. Really she was very like a cat. By the way, were there no cats in that huge old house? Here... she was very near... Just now... and... Voila! She got it! The little animal screamed, fidgeted with all of its energy in her hand. "Stop it. You are without it loathsome enough", Rosie thought. She opened the window and threw the poor rodent with the handkerchief out in storm. What a really terrible night...