I started working in Finley Hall when I was sixteen. I wasn't much good at schoolwork but I did know how to keep things neat and tidy, so when the position for a maid came up at the Hall I applied and got the job. It was a live-in position which helped supplement my wage and I had a decent room. Gone are the days where the staff were put in tiny little cubbyholes in the attic. We were still in the attic but the old rooms had been ripped apart and put together again and where there used to be a dozen small rooms there was now five comfortable ones. There were additional staff of course but they weren't live in.
I got on alright with the rest of the staff. Mrs Higgins, the housekeeper, was an alright sort, quite friendly and willing to make sure that we were properly taught the way to do things. Mr Williams, the Butler (notice the capital B), was a real stickler for doing things the way his father and his father's father had done them. Modern times had come roaring along and crashed into the immovable form of Mr Williams. I tended to avoid him which was easy enough as I was below his notice.
Lord Finley, the owner of Finley Hall, was a nice man and a true gentleman, in the best meaning of the word. He was gracious, acknowledged our efforts and didn't mind saying please and thank you. (Mr Williams could learn a thing or two from Lord Finley.) Lord Finley was around forty, give or take a year or two. I'd never actually inquired as to his age as it was none of my business.
There was no Lady Finley due to an unfortunate incident while taking a horse over some jumps. The horse fell going over one jump, taking Lady Finley down with him. The horse got back up. Lady Finley didn't, possibly because the horse walked all over her while scrambling back onto its feet.
Young Master Finley and Young Miss Finley were just as nice as their father. They were both around the twenty mark and rarely home, both living near the university they currently attended. Well, I suppose they were often home, but their homes weren't Finley Hall at this stage in their lives.
By the time I was eighteen I was effectively in charge of any outside staff we hired, knowing the ways of the Hall and being able to insist that these ways were followed. These ways didn't always make sense, but while Mr Williams was there that was the way things would be done.
Anyway, one evening Lord Finley had a guest for dinner. On occasions like this Mr Williams made it a point to always serve dinner himself, not trusting the footman to do it. (Rightfully so. Edwin was a klutz.) Yours truly had the privilege of wandering through every so often to discretely remove any unwanted plates and things.
Now the meal was substantially finished and the two men were about to settle back with a drink. I was taking out the last few plates and for some reason something dropped from one of the plates onto the floor just outside the dining room. Strictly speaking I should have stopped and scooped up whatever it was right away but, and it was a fairly big but, I had my arms full of dishes.
I will admit that I could have started dumping all the plates onto a nearby sideboard until I was free enough to recover whatever was dropped but that would have taken time. Far easier, I thought, to just nip down to the kitchen, dump the dishes, and come back and recover whatever had dropped. So that's what I did.
I was hurrying back to the dining room when I found that Mr Williams was right in front of me going in the same direction. Remember those drinks I mentioned? He was carrying them in on a tray, the tray balanced on the fingertips of his hand, marching along in a grand manner.
I should say marching along in a grand manner until his heel came down squarely on whatever I'd dropped, and whatever I'd dropped was slippery as fuck, and Mr Williams foot shot forward and he landed flat on his back and the drinks spilled all over him.
Mrs Higgins turned up as soon as she heard the crash, helping Mr Williams up and telling me to make sure that any mess was cleaned up and to take the men their drinks.
I hurried to clean up the mess which basically consisted of picking up the tray and goblets (unbroken) and wiping up a few drops of wine and a skid mark. There was no sign of whatever Mr Williams had trodden on and I couldn't help wondering where it had got to.
The clean-up done I rushed to the butler's still-room, found there was a bottle of claret sitting on the bench, poured two drinks, and fetched them to the dining room.
"Sorry, sir," I said quickly. "I forgot to check what drinks you wanted but the claret was out and I assumed that was what Mr Williams was bringing."
"Absolutely correct, Sally," Lord Finley assured me. "Thank you very much. Can you come back in half an hour and collect the glasses? We'll be in my office."
"Certainly, sir," I assured him and hastily departed. It didn't strike me at the time but it was an odd request to make. Normally they'd just leave the glasses on the table and we'd naturally clear them away when we tidied up. There again, if he was taking them through to his office I suppose they may have been overlooked, especially as Mr Williams was in bed with a pulled muscle.
When the half hour was up I trotted along to the office, knocked, and went in when called.
"Ah, Sandra," said Lord Finley. "Close the door for a moment if you would."
I did so and when I turned back to face him he nodded towards a side table and I saw the two glasses there. I was reaching for the glasses when I saw there was something in one of them and it wasn't wine. I knew what it was even if I didn't know what it was, if you get my drift. I turned to look at Lord Finley.
"Just as a matter of curiosity, George," said Lord Finley, "what do you suppose would be Williams's reaction if he finds out why he slipped and who caused it?"
"That's a good question, Alfred," George replied. "From the way he limped off the scene I'd say he pulled a muscle and as for his dignity, shattered beyond repair. I suspect that his first reaction would be to strangle the culprit, fire them, and have the body dragged away by a team of wild horses, always assuming he could find some wild horses."
"My thoughts exactly" agreed Lord Finley.
He turned to face me more fully.
"There are reasons for some of Williams's silly little rules, Sally," he said gently. "While there was no real harm done this time, there could have been. Of course, Williams won't necessarily agree with the no harm done bit. If you'd followed the rules then the accident wouldn't have happened."
All I could do was blush and look guilty and say nothing. I mean, he was right.
"You've now left me with a bit of a problem. You've cause Williams a certain amount of pain and an awful lot of embarrassment. He's going to be like a bear with a sore tooth for weeks. In discipline matters dealing with the staff I'd normally reply on Mrs Higgins or Williams to handle the matter. Seeing you come under Mrs Higgins I should throw it to her but, as Williams is involved, she'll just pass it straight on to him. Her life wouldn't be worth living if she didn't. Then we're back to the firing and strangling and wild horses. Not the scenario I want around here."
I didn't think for one moment that Williams would strangle me as it would be beneath his dignity, but the firing was almost a given.
"You do excellent work here and I have noticed this and I don't really want to see you discharged for what was really a minor incident. That tends to rule out informing Mrs Higgins or Williams, but neither do I want to see you just walk away without some sort of penalty. Williams could have been badly hurt. Have you any suggestions as to what sort of penalty might suffice?"
I just looked at him helplessly. I'd never had to penalise anyone for anything. How would I know?
"Make the punishment fit the crime, Alfred," drawled George. "Williams suffered some minor pain and a loss of dignity. Doesn't that suggest anything to you?"
Lord Finley blinked and shook his head. I felt the same way.
