Part 7
As the months rolled by, I got accustomed to my new life with Aunt Agatha. Maybe she’s not as bad as people make out. She just has a very stern manner and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. She’s not one for handing out compliments but occasionally, she does express her gratitude. My first Easter with Agatha, she bought me an expensive Sunday dress and when I asked why, she smiled and said it was a reward for all my hard work. It wasn’t exactly the height of fashion, but I guess I didn’t want it to be. It was a plain sage green frock with mint green trim. I wore it on Easter Monday when she asked me to escort her down to the town. By this point I’d been with Aunt Agatha for some ten months and whilst I was no stranger in the small town which her manor house overlooked, it seemed strange wearing something other than my black housekeeper’s frock, and stranger still accompanying my largely reclusive yet well known aunt. I say I’m no stranger in the town (I run errands, collect groceries and other shopping as well as buying my soap and stockings), but I’m most definitely ‘strange’. Everyone knows I’m Agatha’s nephew who, for all intents and purposes, has been sold into servitude by my mother and there is a certain level of empathy amongst some of the townsfolk, most cast me suspicious glances for in spite of my slight build, feminine attire and appearance, It’s common knowledge that I’m male. Normally I kept my head down and scuttled quickly between the shops I’d frequent, speaking only to those I needed to. But on that Easter Monday, we strolled and mingled amongst Agatha’s old friends and acquaintances, many of whom I knew from serving them afternoon tea when they’ve visited Agatha… and for the first time since I became her servant, I felt like an actual person as opposed to ‘the maid’. They greeted me, complimented me and asked after my well being which made a nice change from being asked to fetch this or do that. One of Agatha’s acquaintances told me that my aunt not only speaks very highly of me, but is also very fond of me. It seldom feels like she appreciates me and I could barely believe that she’s ‘fond’ of me, but on that day, I did feel almost proud to be in her service.
That dress hung in my wardrobe for months before I wore it again. Agatha went back to her usual grumpy persona the day after Easter Monday and I couldn’t do right for doing wrong. Her tea was too hot, her toast too cold. I was too noisy whilst doing my chores and too slow when tending to her wants and needs. But subtle expressions of gratitude and little treats did come my way every once in a while. She occasionally gifted me a new lipstick in a shade she felt may suit me and was suited to the season (nutty browns in autumn and winter, pinks and reds for spring and summer). She took me to a salon to get my hair permed which saved me from having to wear rollers overnight. She also took me to a corsetiere to be measured for a new corset and I made it quite clear that didn’t want a new corset, nor did I need one. I resented having to even wear one! But unlike the basic ‘off-the-shelf’ canvas corset I’d become accustomed to, the corset she had made for me is lined with satin and decorated with lace… but most importantly, it fits me absolutely perfectly. I fell in love with the exquisite garment the moment I laced myself into it.
My sister married Bertrand and after teasing me on numerous occasions prior to the big day, I wasn’t one of her bridesmaids. I did wear the sage green dress Aunt Agatha had given me since all I have is that or one of my housekeeping frocks. Agatha bought me a pair of shoes to wear with them; mint green with a 2” heel; almost an inch lower than my usual footwear. I borrowed a hat and a handbag along with some jewellery which included a pair of clip-on earrings. I couldn’t wait to take those off! I’d have rather worn a suit and spats and thus avoided the peculiar glances from various members of the extended family, but at least I wasn’t dressed as a maid for the occasion. Mother spent a fortune. If she was a little more frugal with her spending she wouldn’t need Agatha’s estate since father did leave us a small fortune. But my mother is one of those people who wants to appear far more affluent than she actually is. I dread to think how much Mabel’s wedding cost.