Dinner time E-Book

Michael Smith

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 216

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Desperate for work, Mary O'Donnelly accepts a position as housekeeper for an enigmatic elderly lady. Gradually, Mary realizes her ladyship's house holds an unusual and fascinating power over its owner and the small circle of friends who attend her regular dinner parties. Through observation, Mary discovers the truth behind the phenomenon, but the secret power is threatened by an accident, and Mary sets out to restore her ladyship's unusual world. Beginning in the London of 1910, the novel explores the uncertainty of a post-Victorian Britain seeking new directions, yet overshadowed by the political and social turmoil that lead to World War I The book employs Well's Law (named after H.G.Wells): "a science fiction story should contain only a single extraordinary assumption. As soon as the magic trick has been done the whole business of the fantasy writer is to keep everything else human and real."

Leseprobe

Author’s Note

~ Then (1910) ~

~ And (1914) ~

~ Now (1918) ~

Imprint

Author’s Note

Desperate for work, Mary O’Donnelly accepts a position as housekeeper for an enigmatic elderly lady. Gradually, Mary realizes her ladyship’s house holds an unusual and fascinating power over its owner and the small circle of friends who attend her regular dinner parties. Through observation, Mary discovers the truth behind the phenomenon, but the secret power is threatened by an accident, and Mary sets out to restore her ladyship’s unusual world.

Beginning in the London of 1910, the novel explores the uncertainty of a post-Victorian Britain seeking new directions, yet overshadowed by the political and social turmoil that leads to World War I

The story employs (H.G.) Well's Law:

"a science fiction story should contain only a single extraordinary assumption. As soon as the magic trick has been done the whole business of the fantasy writer is to keep everything else human and real."

~ Then (1910) ~

~ 1 ~

Mary wearily climbed the six stone steps, lowered her heavy carpet bag, and faced the forbidding front door. Her right hand clenched, the only external expression of the foreboding she felt within. With this fist she prepared to knock on the door with as much false self-confidence as she could muster. That is, until she saw the door-knocker, a simple vertical arch of brass, suspended centrally from a small metallic disc, in which she perceived a reflection; not a perfect reflection of herself, but a similitude sufficiently accurate to be recognizable despite the slight changes in facial contours brought about by the metal’s uneven surface. This image removed, rather than added, two or three years from her current twenty-seven. She smiled, then grasped the door-knocker, and gave three sharp raps.

As she waited she looked upward to note the fine external architecture of the house, the third in a terrace of identical properties standing proudly erect in this select area of London. All upper windows were clean, gleaming in fact. House martins flew with an erratic foretelling of an imminent change in the spring weather, before landing on their newly-made nests perched in the guttering. Looking downward, Mary’s current location offered her a view of the basement area below, steep steps beyond uninviting spiked railings led to the servants’ quarters, the drab, dinginess offering a contrast to the opulence above. This arrangement was a perfect architectural demonstration of the English class system.

Hearing a movement within, Mary returned her attention to the door, which had recently received a coat of rather severe black gloss paint; she noted also the metal accessories had been polished to perfection.

A Hansom Cab passed along the street, horse hooves producing the ubiquitous sound of London’s finer districts. As the cab receded down the street, the front door opened tentatively to reveal a young woman of an age similar to Mary’s.

“Yes?”

“Good morning, my name is Mary O’Donnelly, and I am here to …”


“Her ladyship is expecting you. Do come in.” The door opened silently.

Mary entered the dark, narrow entrance hall. Brown and off-yellow floor tiles created an unimaginative tessellation that ran the length of the passageway. A Victorian mirror hung close by the front door, partially masked by an enthusiastic aspidistra placed on a small table to add some colour to the dowdy scene. Next to it hung a small wall clock, with pendulum. Four doors, all closed, added to the claustrophobia. Once the front door had closed, the only lighting came from the semi-circular fanlight window above the main door. The entrance was devoid of any smell, not even the slightly damp fustiness one might associate with such a well-established residence.

“Do go through to the waiting room,” said the maid, indicating the first door on the right.

“Thank you,” replied Mary, wondering if this was the maid who was to be replaced, whose imminent departure had created this possibility of employment she so desperately needed. “Can I ask if you are the …”


“Yes,” answered the maid, “I am. And you are the third interviewee her ladyship has seen so far this morning.”

“Oh?”

The maid lowered her voice conspiratorially, “The last one left about half an hour ago. She managed just five minutes. Left in tears, she did.”

“Why are you …”

“Why am I leaving?”


“Yes.”

“I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. I don’t want to influence you. Can I take your coat and hat?”

“Thank you.”

“Please wait here until I collect you. I need to check that her ladyship is ready to receive another visitor before I can allow you to enter.”

“Oh.”

The maid smiled, but only because she felt it was the right thing to do.

Mary, sat on the edge of a single upright chair positioned by the window, her carpet bag on her knee, hugged as if it were a small child. She asked the maid, “How long have you worked here?”

After a thoughtful pause, the maid replied, “Long enough.”

“Oh.”

“I doubt you’ll have to wait long to see her ladyship. I would offer you a cup of tea, but by the time the kettle has boiled, well …”

“I see.”

The maid left the room, leaving Mary to worry further if she was doing the right thing, given the manner of dismissal from her previous employment a few weeks earlier.

She rose from the chair and paced the reception room. From the hallway she heard the clock striking the hour. At that moment the maid returned, and indicated Mary should now move to the day room to meet her ladyship.

~ 2 ~

“Tell me about yourself.”

That question had been the start of Mary’s troubles with her previous employer. But, this time it would be different, this time she would not embellish, she would not stretch the truth, and she would not lie.

Mary stood in the large, ornate day room, upright, feet together, both arms taut in front of her body grasping the carpet bag.

And here sat her ladyship, a product of the successes of Victorian England, and now, with the passing of the years, coming to reluctant terms with an England unsure of its direction at the start of the twentieth century, following the passing, a decade earlier, of its guiding figure.

“My previous employer … let me go … because I … did not live up to her expectations.”

“And what were those expectations?”

She knows, thought Mary, this is a test, a test of my honesty, and my ability to learn from mistakes.

“They were the expectations I had given her by …” Mary faltered, “By not being honest at interview, ma’am.”

Not one facial muscle of the old lady moved. Impressive, thought Mary. In the conversational vacuum, Mary knew she was compelled to continue. “But I will be honest with you, ma’am. Even though I am sure it will cost me this job here with you.”

“Sit down, please, and continue with your answer,” encouraged the old lady, indicating an uncomfortable-looking wooden dining chair positioned for the sole, temporary, use of the interviewee, while her ladyship sat rigidly upright, despite the opulence of her own well-upholstered chair. She looked unblinkingly at Mary.

“My previous employer was led to believe … by that, I mean, I told her … that I had excellent references from a lady of some standing in London society with whom she had been acquainted, but was now deceased, and that, unfortunately, those references had been lost. I may even have hinted at the possibility that the references in question, because of their glowing nature, may have been stolen, rather than lost.”

“I fail to see how that may have lost you your employment. Please continue.”

“In the absence of the written references, I informed her ladyship verbally of certain skills I claimed were present in those missing references. I didn’t think she would remember, but she did. Over the months I worked for her, she kept asking me to do things I had claimed at interview I could do, but couldn’t really.”

“For example?”

Mary was surprising herself at the pleasure and freedom of telling the truth. The mantle of deception was lifting from her, and she could feel a load lightening. She smiled before explaining, “The thing that really done for me was when her ladyship had a foreign visitor, a Frenchman from Paris. Her ladyship informed him that her maid, that was me, could speak fluent French. But …”

“… you could not converse with this Parisian visitor, and your deception was therefore discovered.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Mary with head bowed, continuing, “Shall I go now?”

“No, no, no. Why ever should you leave?”

“Because I lied, ma’am.”

“Not to me. In fact, you have been most candid. You see, I am fully aware of your background. And, I believe people can change, improve even. As you have already amply demonstrated.”

A stillness settled comfortably in the room, and both women observed the other. The room was tastefully decorated, without being anything as vulgar as modern. The wooden furniture was black, not painted black, but black with age, and use. By contrast, the spring sun cast bright, clear rectangles on the wall opposite the windows. Arrangements of daffodils, crocuses, and the occasional fading snowdrop, adorned the tops of most surfaces, creating a fragrance that spoke only of spring. Her ladyship, as the senior both in age and class, assumed the lead role in resuming the conversation.

“I can offer you fifteen shillings per week, you can have a half day on Sunday, and you will lodge in the basement rooms. Are those terms quite acceptable to you?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am,” enthused Mary. Such was her excitement that she could think no further than these banal statements.

Her ladyship smiled for the first time.

“Does your name indicate that you are Irish?”

“My Grandmother came over to England when she was a young woman. And when my mother died a few years after I was born, my Grandmother looked after me until she too died, leaving me to look after myself.”

“You’ve not had it easy, have you?” This was the first time, Mary noted, that any of her employers had shown anything approaching empathy for a class other than their own.

“And does that carpet bag constitute all of your luggage?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you had better get yourself settled in as soon as possible. Your first duty will be to prepare and serve my luncheon at one o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. One sharp, ma’am.”

“I take all my meals in the dining room. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. In the dining room.”

“And on your way out, please send in Kathleen, she is the one who opened the door for you. I wish to inform her that I have made my decision regarding her replacement, and that she can now leave my employ.”

Mary curtsied once more before leaving the room.

~ 3 ~

Mary left the day room with a smile on her face, informed Kathleen her ladyship wished to see her, and then stood motionless in the entrance hall. The main staircase hugged one wall, its smooth handrail reflecting the weak light entering through the fanlight. The stairs were carpeted in a deep red pattern, bordering on burgundy, with brass stair rods clearly polished beyond their simple functionality. Mary suspected she might be the one polishing them in the coming weeks.

Below the ornately carved staircase ran a simpler and steeper flight to the servant’s quarters, her quarters, steps made of bare wood, shiny through rough wear rather than regular polishing. Carrying her carpet bag, Mary cautiously descended until she found herself relying on her sense of touch more than her sight. In the dank basement she found a room. Pushing open the ajar door, she met her new home.

Daylight entered the small room through a high-level window that readily accepted any stray, spare sunlight that hadn’t made it through the large windows in the rest of the house above. The sight and sound of shoes from passing pedestrians confirmed that the window was at street level. In addition to a narrow bed, the room’s furnishings also included a small writing table and wooden chair. Mary moved the chair to a position under the window, stood on it, and peered out through the grubby glass. Such a low level view did not seem out of keeping with how she considered her natural place in the world. She let out a deep sigh.

“I’m here to pick up my bags. Packed ‘em earlier.” It was Kathleen, the room’s previous occupant. She took the three steps needed to travel from door to bedside, collected the two ready-packed cases, and returned to the door, where she turned to Mary and said, “I hope you manage to work out what goes on in this house, because I never could!”

“What do you mean by that,” asked Mary, disturbed from her window reverie. But Kathleen had already left, and the only reply Mary received was the retreating footsteps she could hear as Kathleen left.

Without stepping down, Mary turned on her chair to view the room she could now call her own. Behind the door, she saw a small wash basin with towel rail. Next to this was a narrow wardrobe, fronted by a drab curtain rather than a door. A threadbare rug covered some of the wooden floor. She jumped down from the chair, and sat on the bed, intending to unpack her carpet bag. The bed creaked like an old man with metallic joints, and the mattress did not promise consistent comfort.

She started to unpack, a chore she managed to extend for a full five minutes. Having exhausted most of the room’s possibilities, all that remained was for Mary to investigate the wash basin. She turned the single tap, an action that initially produced more noise than water. A few seconds of worrying banging sounds ceased, followed by the arrival of a steady flow of cold water. It would do.

Having grown a little more accustomed to the darkness of the basement, Mary discovered a small alcove just outside her room’s door. There, to her right, behind a dark-cream curtain, stood her toilet. She would inspect that later, and probably clean it too. To her left, Mary discovered another door, locked but with a key. Turning the key and then the door handle, she found herself at the foot of the same stone steps leading to street level that she had seen while waiting earlier on the doorstep.

This then was to be the radius of her world.

She decided action would be the best remedy for her current, slightly unsettled, disposition. Returning and re-locking the outside basement door, Mary left her new lodgings and climbed the internal wooden stairs to the main part of the house. She knocked as respectfully as possible on the door of the day room.

“Enter.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but I’ll be getting started in the kitchen soon, and was wondering what you would like to eat for lunch.”

“For luncheon,” corrected her ladyship, “I usually start with soup, preferably vegetable; two eggs, hard-boiled for nine minutes; two slices of fresh bread; and a selection of those fine meats and cheeses we have delivered regularly.”

“And to drink, ma’am?”

“I will take some fine Indian tea, but after the meal.”

“Will that be all, ma’am?”

“Yes, that will be all. Except …”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“One o’clock, sharp. Don’t forget.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~ 4 ~

Mary proceeded down the hallway in search of the kitchen. The first door she tried opened into a large and beautifully appointed dining room. A pair of glass-paned patio doors allowed sunlight to strike the elegant chandelier, casting myriad pinpoints of rainbow light to create a slightly otherworldly atmosphere around the room. Placed with geometrical precision around a walnut dining table, six straight-backed chairs, luxuriantly upholstered with finely embroidered material, added the possibility of fine and comfortable dining. A marble-fronted fireplace, sufficiently large to warm the room even on the bitterest of winter evenings, currently lay unused. And, a fine, glass-fronted dresser housed plates, bowls, and crystal wear to supply at least a seven-course meal for the six place settings.

Mary moved slowly around the room, drinking in the finery, while knowing her function here would be merely to serve, never partake. She absentmindedly ran her index finger along the back of the chair placed at the head of the table, noting not one speck of dust. This room was clearly cherished, preserved, and frequently used.

Her reverie was suddenly disturbed by a faint mechanical whirring from the only dark corner. As she approached the source of the sound, she discovered a magnificent grandfather clock towering above her, its pendulum creating the room’s heartbeat. Mary was startled further by the striking of midday, a deep sonorous tolling capable of penetrating every room in the house. She had no need to look at the shadowy clock face, nor count the dozen strikes, she knew she must quickly find the kitchen and prepare her ladyship’s luncheon within the hour. Mary left the dining room, impressed by its old, yet opulent feel. It had clearly been lived in, and probably had many enthralling tales to tell.

Returning to the hallway, Mary tried the next door, and was relieved to discover it opened into the kitchen. Being situated at the rear of the house, windows allowed light to bathe the contents. Upon black and white chequered floor tiles stood the main kitchen table, which Mary knew she would be using to preparing all manner of meals for her ladyship. Under the windows lay the large sink with its hot and cold taps. Adjacent to the sink was the pantry door. Mary headed for this, and opened the door to receive her first impression of her ladyship’s culinary preferences. Nothing out of the ordinary caught her attention, in fact, everything appeared to be quite normal. Why did this surprise her? Back in the kitchen, Mary continued to note how mundane everything appeared. The wall shelving held plain, white crockery, presumably for everyday use. Opening a drawer, she discovered ample quantities of cutlery, sufficiently ornate for entertaining guests, but not overly ostentatious. Under the kitchen table she found an empty hamper from Fortnum & Mason. Finally, on the wall opposite the windows, close to the gas oven and extensive range, hung a small clock.

Finding an apron hung behind the main door, Mary began preparing her ladyship’s luncheon. In the pantry she’d seen vegetables enough to prepare a fine soup, a bread bin containing a reasonably fresh loaf, and a large bowl full of eggs.

It wasn’t long before steam filled the kitchen to the extent that Mary had to open one of the sash windows. With ten minutes to go before one o’clock, Mary lowered two eggs into water boiling happily on a ring adjacent to the fresh soup. She then prepared the tray she would use to transport the meal to the dining room.

Once she was convinced all was under control, Mary left the kitchen to set the place at the head of the dining table for her ladyship, before returning to the kitchen to assemble the meal.

As the clock in the hallway struck one, her ladyship entered the dining room to find Mary standing smartly to attention next to the luncheon she had prepared, placed with precision on the dining table. Having only previously seen her ladyship in a seated position, Mary was surprised how uneasily her mistress moved, something reinforced by the use of a fabulously carved cane. Her ladyship approached the chair at the head of the table, and gingerly sat down. She turned to Mary, “This all looks satisfactory. Thank you. You may serve now.”

Carefully, Mary served a portion of soup from the tureen she’d found in one of the sideboards in the dining room, and placed it in front of her ladyship. Mary then noted that before lifting the spoon, her ladyship bowed her head momentarily. She assumed this was a silent grace.

The meal progressed to her ladyship’s satisfaction. She even commented on the perfect timing of the eggs. Dabbing her mouth with the linen napkin, her ladyship rose, reclaimed her cane, and walked to the door, where she turned and said, “Thank you, Mary. That was a most enjoyable luncheon. I will take tea in the day room at two this afternoon. That will be all.” After that, she turned stiffly, and exited.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed her first meal had been a success. Only when she was clearing away the plates, bowls and cutlery, did she realise that the one o’clock chime she’d heard had come from the clock in the hallway, and not the much larger grandfather clock in the dining room. She considered this strange, but did not dwell on the matter.

~ 5 ~

Mary spent the next few days acclimatising herself to the new surroundings and daytime routine. She was called upon to deal with all visitors, announcing to her ladyship those arriving by the front door, and dealing efficiently with those knocking on the back door. And, in addition to the role of cook, Mary’s household duties included regular cleaning of those rooms frequented by her ladyship.

Through the frequent and regular synchronising of their daily orbits, Mary and her ladyship grew more accustomed to each other, until one morning in mid-Spring, as Mary was dusting the day room, her ladyship paused her reading, and surprised Mary with a direct question regarding matters beyond the house.

“What do you think of the king?”

“People say he’s not got long to live.”

“That is not quite what I meant, however, you said people? Which people?”

“Why, everyone, ma’am.”

“Everyone? Do you mean to tell me you have consulted everyone in London, or even the entire country?”

“No, ma’am, course not.”

“We will start again, Mary. Which people are of the opinion that King Edward has little time left to live?”

“Well, ma’am, the delivery boy what came yesterday said people at the shop reckoned the king’s health was getting worse. They say it’s his chest, and some say it’s after all that smoking he does.”

“And who else?”

“I was queuing at the haberdashers last week and two wom…, two ladies behind me were saying the same sort of thing.”

“So when you say everyone, you do, in fact mean, three people?”

“Well, suppose so, ma’am.”

“This is how rumours are spread, and white lies become considered to be truth. I am deeply concerned by the rise of this phenomenon among an increasing proportion of society these days, especially young people. It can lead to no good.”

“Do you think the king is fine, then, ma’am?”

“Actually, no. I have it on good authority from an acquaintance in the Palace Guard that there is considerable concern amongst the medical fraternity regarding his Highness’s health.”

“So, the king is dying, then, ma’am?”

“I believe so.”

“So, those rumours I ‘eard were true then, ma’am?”

Her ladyship’s demeanour grew sterner. “That is beside the point, Mary. You based your opinion on nothing more than idle gossip, whereas my view was founded on solid evidence gleaned close to royal circles. There is a considerable difference.”


“Yes, ma’am,” replied Mary, obediently, before resuming her dusting. After a few moments, she decided to pursue the matter a little further, to confirm her suspicions.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Mary.”

“Will King Edward die soon.”

Her ladyship lay the book on her lap, looked blankly at the net curtains diffusing light from the street, then turned to look directly at Mary, before offering, “I am of the opinion that he is not much longer for this world.” She then looked down at the floor and added in a quieter, softer tone, “And I don’t know what we will do when he does die. Losing Victoria was bad enough, but things these days seem to be in such turmoil.” Her ladyship promptly raised her head, straightened her back and, with the old glint returning to her eye, concluded with, “The country needs stability, something sadly lacking from Westminster. I hold Mr. Asquith and his party in little regard.”

“Oh, I like him,” offered Mary, before she caught herself and added, “Sorry, ma’am.” Her ladyship’s look of disdain was all the response needed to convey her opinion concerning Mary’s political leanings. She decided a brief explanation of her own views might broaden Mary’s horizons.

“Young lady,” she began, “you are probably not of an age to remember the glorious reign of the king’s mother, Queen Victoria. I was born on her coronation day and consider myself fortunate to have lived through the finest era of the British Isles. But I have also witnessed some disturbing developments in recent years. It is essential that a sound and sensible government be elected by intelligent people, people of education. The widening of the franchise to include men from all classes has led, in my opinion, to the lowering of standards in British politics. The masses have not received sufficient education to be able to elect a sensible government, and I fear we may be heading towards a period of instability, even turmoil. Furthermore, this new notion of widening the franchise further to include women is highly questionable.”

“Ma’am,” was all Mary had in her heart to respond. She then curtsied and left the room, taking with her private, unexpressed, views on universal suffrage.

~ 6 ~

Spring had thoroughly banished Winter. April showers drummed upon the windows of the day room in which her ladyship spent much of her time reading and corresponding. But, being April, it wasn’t long before the rain eased aside to allow sunlight to bathe her ladyship in its warming rays. Whether due to this change in environment or due to the resolution of some internal debate, her ladyship reached a decision. She rang the bell to summon her maid.

Mary had found the regular tinkling irksome at first but had since resigned herself to it being part of her job. With the exception of her momentary indiscretion regarding views on the Prime Minister, Mr. Asquith, Mary had carried out her duties to her ladyship’s satisfaction. On hearing the bell, Mary stopped the beating she was undertaking as a prelude to baking a cake, wiped her hands on her apron, repositioned the few errant locks of hair that had been a nuisance, and left the kitchen for the day room.

“Ma’am.”