The big house had loomed over the village for two hundred years or more. The landscape was flat, and it sat atop the only piece of rising ground like a faintly sinister guardian angel. It was viewed more with reverence than with fear by the villagers. It dominated their lives as a benign but uncertain presence.
Sophie had known it all her short life. She had watched it through the seasons. Looking fresh and new as the leaves slowly appeared on the trees around it in the spring. Reflecting the reds and golds of the twilight autumn. In winter, as the village huddled below, struggling to survive the cold, it looked isolated and alone. In the summer Sophie loved to watch it change colour as the sun rose.
She had finished at the local school aged sixteen over two years ago and, being the daughter of the farm, she was always up early. She was no stranger to dawn. As she went about her duties, she would often glance up at the big house watching it change colour as the sun slowly appeared and rose in the sky. The house faced the rising sun. At first it was dark grey, the same grey as the local stone from which the village was hewn. As the sun appeared over the distant horizon it slowly lightened, becoming dark cream, a colour that intensified slowly until, for a brief moment it turned gold. Sophie always stopped her work for those few minutes of each day. Her father working alongside her would smile and join her, gazing up at the big golden house. He, too, found it magical.
Out of the blue, with no warning she now saw the big house differently. She was to go and work there her father informed her. He was sitting at one end of the kitchen table while her mother busied herself preparing dinner. A letter lay on the table in front of him. She had been offered a position of housemaid at the house. She tried to argue but he hushed her with a wave of his hand. At the farm she was barely worth her food and lodging and the wage she was being offered was vastly better. There would be no arguing, she was to start the next day. Sophie stood before him, her mouth opened in dumb surprise.
She knew her parents were struggling to make ends meet and her younger brother was already doing as much if not more than she could but there had been no warning. Her father explained that word had been sent that a new housemaid was needed, and her name had been put forward. He also explained that her wages would be paid to him as all her needs would be met by her new employer and she would have no need of money apart from a few pence to put in the collection plate on Sundays. She was to be at the house at nine o'clock in the morning and report to Miss Gifford, the housekeeper.
With those final words she was sent to her room to pack. She sat on her bed trying to absorb all that she had been told. She loved working on the farm, but she could see the sense in this new move. She had little to pack, her hairbrush, her only spare set of underwear, a bottle of cheap cologne. Her nightgown she would add in the morning. She felt she ought to be properly scrubbed and clean, but bath night was still two nights away. She would get up early and have a good standing wash before leaving, she told herself. Slowly her feelings changed, and her anger turned to excited anticipation. Going down to dinner she could feel her father's relief at her change of attitude.
She rose before dawn the next morning and went downstairs. The kitchen fire was still just about alight, and she coaxed it slowly to life before putting a kettle on. Her father and her brother Ben came through on their way to milk the cows. They both smiled and nodded a 'good morning' as they closed the door behind them. She was a little surprised not to see her mother but, as the kettle boiled, she lifted it off the stove and carried it to her room. She stripped completely and gave herself a thorough scrub, paying particular attention to her more intimate areas. She had no idea how valuable that extra attention to detail would prove to be.
She heard voices from downstairs and went to join them carrying the small cardboard suitcase that her mother had found hidden somewhere in the house. The kitchen table was set for breakfast and her father and Ben were already seated. She took her usual place and her mother served breakfast. There was little conversation apart from what needed to be done around the farm that morning. The cows needed moving and the wheat must be checked for ripeness of the grain. Harvest was rapidly approaching. It was only at the end that her father glanced at the battered brown suitcase.
"You off then?" he asked.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"'Tis a step-up girl, you're the lucky one."
With that he stood up, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. Then he turned and walked out of the door closely followed by Ben who left a cheery "Bye Sis" in his wake. Only her mother was left to give her the hug she needed, and she clung on for as long as she could before pulling away.
"You'll be awright, girl, don't you fear. Lady'll look after 'ee."
"I know mother, but I'll miss you."
"Don't be daft. You're but a mile away and you gets days off I'm sure."
Her mother turned aside and pretended to concentrate on a pot bubbling on the stove. Without a further word Sophie picked up her sorry little case and walked out of the only home she had ever known.
Her mother had been wrong, it was a good two miles to the house, and she worried that she might arrive late. Even so when she arrived at the impressive gates she hesitated. During the walk here her stomach had filled with fluttering beasts and she looked up at the house in the distance along the gravel drive. The name 'Stokely Hall' was carved on both sides of the pillared entrance. The weeds growing around the two large gates told her that it had been many a week, if not month, since they had last been closed. It felt strangely welcoming. She took a step and crossed the threshold and trudged up the long drive.
As she approached the house a figure of a middle-aged woman stepped out from behind a gothic pillar. She had a friendly smile on her face.
"You must be Sophie," she asked, "I'm Miss Gifford, milady's housekeeper. I thought I would meet you here to stop you making your first mistake. Follow me!"
She walked away and after a slight delay Sophie followed her. She was led around the corner of the house to a small door.
"In future you will use this door for any comings and goings. The main door is for guests of M'lady, is that clear? Good, follow me."
As Sophie followed through the door she was met with a wall of heat, so intense she almost fainted. The side door led straight into the kitchen where three women were labouring over a huge cooking range.
"Miss Barnes..." Miss Gifford called out over the noise of rattling pots and general mayhem.
The older of the three women looked up and smiled when she saw who was calling. Then she glanced at Sophie and smiled again.
"Is this the new girl?" she asked, looking Sophie up and down, "m'lady has good taste."
