| Subject: Chapter 260 - Part 2 (end of chapter 260) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, October 30, 06:44:44am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
The letter was honest, held all her truths--but she was a little ashamed of herself, as she looked over it again, saddened that she had shown all her fears to him so clearly. Still, she didn't wish to spring such terrible surprises on him later--and he had asked her to tell him everything. She only wished that "everything" were prettier to tell.
She tried to shrug off this fear, as she folded up the letter, before sealing it in its envelope--knowing the one fact she had yet to mention, one she had forgotten almost entirely herself. Yesterday had been her birthday; she was now 21. She almost smiled, wondering at the pain she had been in, the torment which had made her so completely forget. Today, at least, she was better, the memory returning. But that didn't mean that anyone else seemed to know.
She let out a slight sigh at this fact, trying not to regret it--her address work messy but serviceable, as she heard their visitors being shown inside. There was no reason that most people would know--no reason most should remember, if they did. Premier certainly was in no hurry to trumpet her real age, and most of her friends there had no way of knowing such details. Her grandmother might, but she had far more important things on her mind; her sigh was mild. It was only her husband she had hoped for some sort of acknowledgment from--but she felt rather churlish at holding him at fault, given how very far away he was.
She tried to remind herself of this fact, knew that--even if he sent her a letter on her birthday--she wouldn't get it for quite some time. Gifts or calls were out of the question, given his current life and its constraints. Still, just one "Happy Birthday" from him would have meant so much; she looked down, sighing, as she heard the visitors approaching. It was silly of her to worry over such small details.
She tried to put this regret away, focusing on the necessities, instead. But this fact had been the one detail she hadn't mentioned in her letter, not wanting to make her husband feel guilty; it wasn't like such an oversight was entirely new to her. Last year with Michael had been the first and only time the date had in any way been positively remembered. To her mother, it had only seemed to hold memories of pain. She couldn't have expected to have childhood parties in her honor.
She had accepted this long ago, was far more comfortable with such neglect than the more privileged would be; her mind turned to the meeting before her, instead. There wouldn't be much time after it, she and Adrian needing to leave for the studio; they might well be late, as it was. She smiled down at the letter. She wanted to have this note ready to be sent to him by the time they left.
She had just finished the return address, when her grandmother knocked on the door. She smiled, as she stood up--not yet a difficult task for her, although she suspected that it might well become one in the months ahead, if her body kept up its current path--ready to greet them. She might not have much idea of what to say, but she did want to be welcoming. They were doing her a great favor by agreeing to help.
Her mind only spun around the contents of the letter for one more second, before Adrian led in the pair who would soon be living with her. She did hope that Rosa wouldn't be too upset by the change. For all her skillful invisibility--perhaps because of it, she had often heard that this was one of the primary traits of a really good servant--she had done an excellent job of keeping herself and Michael going, the studio leaving both of them little time to keep up, otherwise. But none of this made her worry any less about her newly-acquired snobbishness, when it came to taking the "help" for granted.
She had pasted a smile on her face by the time the couple came into view, was almost surprised by how timid they looked. Annie, especially, seemed afraid that she might be kicked--which probably wasn't surprising, given her father--and Fredericks himself appeared almost apologetic for taking up her time. Oh, Lord. Her sigh went deep. She really never was going to get used to the whole concept of servants.
She rather hoped that this was true, that she hadn't adjusted instantly, remembering back for an instant to her first meeting with Terry. It was then that the other actress had told her why she continued to play the degrading, stereotyped servant roles that had been the only ones to come her way--apparently quoting a friend: "I'd rather play a maid than be one." Her heart seemed to mourn. What was it that Rosa or this pairing before her would rather be doing?
She tried to repress all these thoughts for the moment, knowing that she did indeed need the help this couple represented. Seeing them face-to-face, all her former fears about their parentage had already been abandoned. They looked kind, timid; the smile became more genuine. They looked quite a bit like her.
Nikita felt some real sympathy for the couple, as Adrian introduced them--all of them nodding and exchanging polite greetings. After all, they were all in the same situation. Still, their parents--bastards that at least a few of them were--were not their fault. No one in their right mind would *ask* to have a gunman for a father.
She had no doubt that the pair *were* in their right minds now, could see that her grandmother had been correct. There was no danger here; her thoughts turned. She only hoped that being near the house she shared with Michael, being near *her* didn't bring *them* far more trouble than they could handle.
It was the woman of the pairing who spoke first, looking as though she had just overcome a very great fear to do so. "Mrs. Worth tells us that you already have someone doing the housework. Are you planning to keep her on, as well?" Her fear was clear. To the public mind, there was little reason for a woman living alone in a small house--especially while her husband was off doing important work--to have two different maids, unless she was recognized as being very grand indeed.
Nikita didn't have this distinction--fortunately, in her mind; she nodded, then, having already tried to find a way around this. "Yes." Her grandmother looked back to her curiously, and she wondered whether she had just disrupted some plan of hers. It didn't matter; she went on. "I was thinking that she might continue doing the housework on her few days in, while you could handle all the cooking." She suddenly became nervous that this might not reflect the woman's skills, her look mirroring her uncertainty. "Would that work for you?"
Adrian sighed, but only slightly. While her own relationship with her two helpers was unusual, she also knew that her grandchild would probably never be any good with servants; she was too giving. Perhaps it was simply their decidedly plebeian blood, the fact that they were more likely to be the servants than the served. Her look returned to the pair before them. She had made a good choice, then. Anyone more aggressive would have run over the girl in a second.
Neither Nikita nor Annie noticed these musings, the newly-hired one looking relieved. "No, that'll be fine." She let out a noticeable breath, only to appear worried again a second later. "Will you be the one telling her that?" She clearly wasn't ready for any sort of confrontation.
The question made the young actress's eyes widen, not having thought about this necessity before, events moving so quickly. She had only last night finally agreed to hire them. Dealing with the old help--especially since Michael's usual attentions, whenever they were alone together, had always encouraged her to forget that such a woman existed--had never come into her mind. But today was one of the three days a week when Rosa came to them; her gaze roamed over the couple. If the woman walked in to find strangers there unexplained . . .
It was her grandmother who stepped in at this point, looking at her watch. "We're almost late." She turned to Nikita, making their plans. "You can write a note for her on the way in." She turned back to the couple. "I'll have Geoffrey bring it back to you."
This was as good a plan as any, but it made the waiting couple highly nervous, looking around themselves at the ornate Hollywood home. "We can wait in the car," Carl suggested, finally. It was clear that neither of them wanted to be left alone in such richness.
Adrian's sigh was inaudible, pleased that Michael's tastes in his residence were far more simple; they would never have survived a place such as this. "Nonsense," she continued, her eyes alone cutting off any further argument. "I'll have Steven take you to the kitchen." The man had magically appeared, as he always did. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
The couple still looked nervous, Annie answering for them. "It's a little early," she ventured.
This wasn't entirely good news, Nikita now the anxious one. "This is the time I always have to leave for the studio." If that was a problem for them . . .
Fredericks cut off any further fears. "We're just not used to it. It doesn't mean we won't be ready." His new employer looked into him silently, nodding at last, wondering. This pair was so absolutely ready to work for her, to do whatever they had to; her mind wandered, gaze moving to her grandmother. Whatever had the woman done to inspire such instant loyalty?
The question went unanswered, as the four of them moved out of the room, Steven guiding the couple down the hall, as the two actresses made their way toward the front door--the letter to her husband in the younger woman's hand. They were only paused, when Carl's voice caught up to them. "Thank you for this." They turned to find the pair looking so very grateful. "We're going to do our best."
It was with one additional, now confident, "Yes," from Annie that the pair was shuttled off into the house, and Nikita found herself guided out the door by her relative--her mind spinning. Whatever might have caused such loyalty, she supposed it was for the best. They were certainly eager; she posted her missive, on the way toward the car, and the studio beyond. Only time would tell if there was some particular reason why.
Extra note: The quote about playing a maid is, once again, taken from the late, great Hattie McDaniel. My apologies for borrowing it, but it does so fit this era in Hollywood.
[End of Part 260]
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