Thanks all. Another chapter setting the scene of what really went on in Rockford’s Darkest days. Join Dark Jessica/Frances as she takes us on this journey.
The New Years Party was looming large.
Many preparations were under way including the roles of the girls.
They by now realized anything too undesirable would be taken by Tessa who still lived, walking her road of shame and punishment.
Clara would handle the kitchen with Claudia’s guidance. The dish chosen was L’gigot D’Agneau, made with three of Gert’s goats that were killed by Robbie Finch (who protested) and sent off to the abattoir, however the skulls of the goats would be brought back and made into candle holders for the .
Siân and Joanie were chosen to serve the tables from the kitchen and help with Claudia’s guidance dress the main dinner table and clean it up afterwards.
That left Jane to be the person who took coats and showed those who were staying their rooms. Doubled up with Siân they’d also bring bags to the rooms too.
Frances was told coldly by Claudia who seemed to still linger and study her she was serving tables and pouring wine. That was her role and that was it. Like the others, she was told look pretty, only spoke when spoken too and be graceful.
Frances accepted the role, not that she could deny it. It would be interesting to see what the guests would discuss and at least she wasn’t going to be in Tessa’s boots.
Sally Turner had the most illustrious task of being as Gert called it. “The Smile Girl”
She was to entertain, play the piano and read to the guests about how much Gert and Claudia have helped her and the other girls. She also would be wearing a long gown like a lady, that Claudia would choose and Clara would alter for her if needs be.
She’d eat the fine food and Gert even said she could have a glass of wine with dinner.
Sally was bursting with pride to be chosen but the rest all agreed Sally was becoming the apple in their master’s eye.
Tessa would also be dressed up, but not as a guest but as. “Pillow Plaything” as dubbed by Gert. Her role wasn’t explained to the rest of the girls, but they all knew deep down it was bad. She wouldn’t have to scrub pots like the rest of them but her shift would continue long into the night.
The guest list was large and the invites has all been responded months in advance. A glass cleaning crew were paid generously for the work on Rockford’s large French windows the day before. A van of produce made its large delivery the day before too, and spared no expense. It contained the goat meat among other delicacies for Clara to get her hands on.
The days before there was no lessons just cleaning. Rooms aired out, laundry and dusting to do. Everyone but Gert chipped in. Claudia from helping prepare foods in the kitchen, dusted and polished Gert’s study for him as it was inevitable he’d bring guests there for after dinner liqueurs.
Robbie Finch had managed to paint all the railings a nice glossy black and had made the Irish Wolfhound statues presentable despite the weather. Now residing in the cottage he had less time to travel and more time to work.
Being the middle of winter there wasn’t much he could do in the garden.
The day and a new year had arrived. The girls were up early as there was no ‘duty girl’ the night before.
A hasty breakfast was had and then it was the last touches of cleaning, while Clara set about early in the kitchen, Claudia helping her and Siân and Joanie to dress the main table. The most striking thing, placed on the main dining table was the three cleaned and varnished goats skulls that Gert had made into makeshift candle holders. Frances scoffed at them to herself.
“Human’s depictions of a devil……would something so powerful resemble a submissive horned animal?”
She carried on rubbing glass and crystal, avoiding Claudia’s gaze at her.
Afterwards she washed, changed into a clean outfit, of her brown skirt and white tunic. Jane was already standing next to Claudia and Gert who was dressed in his finest black velvet suit with a red neck tie, and Claudia in a very form fitting purple ball gown with a slit revealing her sheer dark silk stockinged legs.
They both held drinks and Sally had been instructed to play the piano which had found itself moved to the hall, though no one saw how.
Sally was in a sky blue evening gown and with her hair braided to one side, she looked more like the Lady of the House than Claudia.
She was nervous and Frances could see it.
However she played a slow soft melody that was well practiced.
Candles had been lit all around the hall and Robbie Finch had set up torches of fire all the way from the gate to the door.
It was a remarkable sight. Also unseen by the rest was the still but striking painting of Annabeth Torchwood, brought down to the wood panels of the hall by the grand staircase among the other macabre exhibits of art.
Frances had guessed that Gert and Claudia had moved it the night before.
The guests were led to the door by Robbie Finch who had donned a grey suit for the occasion, he only went as far as the door and they trickled into the house.
There was mixture of people, some very like minded to the hosts, antique collectors like Mr Rawly and his much younger blonde paramour Rosetta. A well known traveling poet Rene Beaumont , a couple from Germany, Mr Herman Diehl and his wife Beata who were ardent supporters of the latest government over there and made that clear with their swastika rings that they wore proudly, not to mention British supporters of the same cause. A Mr Reginald Brown, and his wife Beatrice.
There was a smart string quartet from London who were shown to set up in the ballroom and Frances provided them with drinks, curious at their instruments.
There was a conservative politician from Sussex Mr James Martins. A diamond tycoon from Amsterdam. Edwin De Boeuf and his partner Ingrid. He kissed the painting of Annabeth with a strange passion. They all carried gifts and Jane took them with their coats and showed each one where their rooms were. More came and such characters like the well known middle aged author of children’s fiction Hilda Southern. A famous bodybuilder from France, Pierre Blanc. He towered over most of the guests and received a kiss from Claudia on both cheeks before giving Gert the same.
More came and Frances lost count as they gathered and were lost with drinks and the laughter of merriment and witty remarks.
First they studied the paintings, and some cared for them more than others. Notably the politician James Martins. He took a glass of champagne from Frances’s silver platter and told her she was remarkably pretty as much as the naked girl in the painting ‘Walk Of Pain’,
Frances took that this man was unsound like all them perhaps. She just noticed a thin young vicar was there too or rather a priest who seemed to hover about the hosts listening to every word. “A man of God indeed” she thought. “Why is he here?”
Jane came back down from bringing more bags up. Siân had helped her that time as Frances was busy.
“Look” she squeaked. “That man, the poet, gave me 10 schillings, he said I’ll earn it tonight. I’m just bringing bags to the room. But this is good yes?” She was bursting with pride.
“He gave me nothing” Siân remarked with cold jealousy.
“Look girls, keep your wits about you……I don’t like this” Frances said as she was ushered crudely by Claudia to fetch more champagne.
As much as she was an alien to this world, she was starting to care for her friends.
As much as she disliked Tessa, she couldn’t help but wonder where she was and what her ‘role’ was but deep down she knew.
She went to the table of laid out bottles of champagne and filled more glasses and Joanie took the empties away.
Then she came back to the filled hall, as Sally carried on with her piano playing, Jane showed Beatrice the washroom. The room was filled with the jingle of the piano, the laughter of the men, the chortling of women, the smoke from cigars, pipes and cigarettes, as glasses clinked, and eyes leered from all directions. Most of all as Frances felt, the painting of Annabeth. At her or not she didn’t know. It was going to be a long night, and with her urge to control her own magic, Frances hid an orange flare from her narrowing eyes.
