Storyteller / Shared NPC
"I know, Summerfield place. Our place is more up the valley." Hersh said.
"Oh alright," Arden nodded, yes 'Colquitt', he thought he remembered his Pa mentioning that name.
The next part was stunning though!
"I'll go with you to the dance... if you like. But I reserve the right to make you presentable. Have you ever worn an eye patch? And do you have a Sunday suit?" she asked.
"You will?" he blinked a few times, processing that declaration. Here every gal he asked had abruptly refused him and now he finds one who was volunteering.
"Umm, well...sure. I mean thanks for agreein'," he flashed an actual charming smile for the first time. Eye aside there was nothing wrong with the young man's looks.
"An eye patch? No, don't own one. My folks said it ain't needed. But if you can find me one, then I will sure wear it," he promised.
"I got Sunday go to church clothes, sure. Nothing fancy, dark trousers, white shirt, that sort of thing. And shined shoes," he listed.
"That's too much sugar for a dime!"
"Umm, well...sure. I mean thanks for agreein'," he flashed an actual charming smile for the first time. Eye aside there was nothing wrong with the young man's looks.
The dark haired girl just nodded.
"An eye patch? No, don't own one. My folks said it ain't needed. But if you can find me one, then I will sure wear it," he promised.
"Why sure an' the master's patches are upstairs in the lilac room, and all sort of togs... a little big for this young gentleman!" remembered Mrs Lampeter.
"I got Sunday go to church clothes, sure. Nothing fancy, dark trousers, white shirt, that sort of thing. And shined shoes," he listed.
Herschelina nodded.
"Yes, shoes, you'll need your own shoes. Can you dance? Be honest." she ordered.
The cook wiggled in her seat: she didn't really approve of Herschelina Colquitt, the child was always up to something, but at the same time, she could not resist an odd feeling of excitement, of being involved in something... what? She didn't know... but definitely something!
She more approved of her staid, sensible sister Stephens: but nothing that Carrots did ever gave her a frisson like this.
She stood suddenly. "Why don't you sit down, Mr Summerfield?" she asked, and pointed to the coffee and cookies. "And eat your biscuits, while we take care of you."
Storyteller / Shared NPC
The cook mentioned something about the former owner of the house having eyepatches though they might well be too big. Frankly he was not excited about it but if it meant this gal would go to the dance with him, he'd do it without complaint.
Talk moved on to clothing and even shoe which Arden assured her had.
"Yes, shoes, you'll need your own shoes. Can you dance? Be honest." she ordered.
"A little, I mean I watched folks dance a few times and Ma taught me the waltz. That one is simple enough," he duly answered.
The cook then stood up, stood suddenly. "Why don't you sit down, Mr Summerfield?" she asked, and pointed to the coffee and cookies. "And eat your biscuits, while we take care of you."
"Well, alright but I really can't stay that long. Just what exactly does 'taking care of you' mean?" he'd asked a similar question before and got an evasive answer.
"That's too much sugar for a dime!"
"A little, I mean I watched folks dance a few times and Ma taught me the waltz. That one is simple enough," he duly answered.
"Good" Herschina affirmed "Then we have somewhere to start from. I'll teach you how to Polka, too. Quadrille's useful, but there might be a caller for that, so you can just follow what's called. But for a waltz or a polka you need to be confident enough to lead." You'd think she had been planning this for weeks.
The cook then stood up, stood suddenly. "Why don't you sit down, Mr Summerfield?" she asked, and pointed to the coffee and cookies. "And eat your biscuits, while we take care of you."
"Well, alright but I really can't stay that long. Just what exactly does 'taking care of you' mean?" he'd asked a similar question before and got an evasive answer.
Hersh barked a dry laugh "Nuthin' sinister. Just cause we lived next door to the strangler, doesn't mean we're ghouls!"
"She means take care of you like we take care of Mrs Ashby" explained Mrs Lampeter. "Course, you heard about the feller next door, Mr Boyd? Strangin' folks he was, stranglin' them to death. And Herschelina here caught him stranglin' the Missus, so she did, and when she tried to stop him, he gave a her such a whack in the face it was a job I had stoppin' her bleeding to death at the nose!"
"Key down the back did it." commented the feisty little black haired girl.
They were wandering off topic.
"Wait there!" said Herschelina and ran out the kitchen into the house.
"... and is your Mother still with us, Mrs Summerfield?" Mrs Lampeter cooed, by way of making conversation.
Ere long, Hersh reappeared with a black roustabout jacket and a dangling black thing, evidently the eye patch.
"Try this on and I'll put on the patch! Then we'll see how you look!" the girl commanded.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Of course Arden had seen a polka danced, more complicated than the waltz for certain, and the quadrille...now she was getting a bit complicated but he settled listening.
Suddenly the conversation between and girl got much grimmer. So they knew the Kalispell strangler? Of course his family knew about that incident, Pa even specially bought the paper so they could read about it. Herschelina had risked her life in that? Amazing.
"Brave of you, so glad you survived," he complimented her.
Key down the back did it." commented the feisty little black haired girl.
Arden had no idea what that meant but Herschelina was off just like that, no doubt to fetch 'something'?
The cook meanwhile asked about his mother.
"Oh yes, Ma is fine. Healthy as horse, my ma," he assured the woman with a smile.
Ere long, Hersh reappeared with a black roustabout jacket and a dangling black thing, evidently the eye patch.
"Try this on and I'll put on the patch! Then we'll see how you look!" the girl commanded.
The jacket looked a bit outsized for him, he did not have a stocky build width wise though the length was fine. As for the patch, he'd never tried any such thing so ...
"May I ask you put it on me, please? Maybe if I was front of a mirror?" But he was not and the gal was so eager.
"That's too much sugar for a dime!"
"Try this on and I'll put on the patch! Then we'll see how you look!" the girl commanded.
"May I ask you put it on me, please? Maybe if I was front of a mirror?" But he was not and the gal was so eager.
"Well I was going to tie it on, of course" the girl replied.
"Stay seated, you're too tall for me to reach otherwise." Herschelina ordered as she went somewhere and came back with a mirror on a stand, which she put on the table before him, so he could see himself in all his milky eyed glory: and then... someone else was there. As Hersh put the patch in place and tied the black ribbon around the back of Arden 's head in a firm but easy to undo bow, a rakish young fellow who looked, to Hersh, like he'd just raided something (the Spanish Main, or a bank, or a Union Head-Quarters, maybe) suddenly appeared in the mirror.
"All right, stand up and try the jacket on" was her next dictat.
It was far too big, but could be easily altered and taken in by Misses Colquitt.
"Ohhh, don't you look lovely, Mr Summerfield?" cooed Mrs Lampeter.
"Yeah, you'll do, son, you'll do." said Herschelina, quietly.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Arden wasn't averse to seeing what he looked like with an eye patch especially since it was a request by the gal who was now apparently going to attend the big dance with him. Needed to keep her happy he figured. He only asked that she help him putting it on.
"Well I was going to tie it on, of course" the girl replied.
"Stay seated, you're too tall for me to reach otherwise."
"Of course, thank you," he nodded and stayed still perfectly still like he was posing for one of those fancy photographs.
The process did not take long and she had supplied a mirror too so he got to see himself. Hmmm, not bad, though he was not about to compliment himself, that would be improper.
Now she wanted him to stand up and of course again he did as he was told. Putting on the coat it was easy to slip on, especially as it was obviously a bit big for him, the original owner had more girth no doubt. As for the womens opinion ...
"Ohhh, don't you look lovely, Mr Summerfield?" cooed Mrs Lampeter.
"Yeah, you'll do, son, you'll do." said Herschelina, quietly.
"Why thank you, thank you both for the kind compliments," Arden smiled, it made one feel good.
"I am looking forward to seeing you in your dance dress, I'm sure you will look lovely," he now thought he'd better throw out a compliment.
"Why thank you, thank you both for the kind compliments" Arden smiled, it made one feel good.
"Why, tis only the God's own honest truth" burbled Mr Lampeter in her distinctive Irish brogue, while Herschelina just gave a vague
"Uh... yeah."
"I am looking forward to seeing you in your dance dress, I'm sure you will look lovely," he now thought he'd better throw out a compliment.
"Mmm" the wiry girl seemed to be thinking of something... something missing. A hat maybe, a nice black hat with a broad brim... she was startled out of her reverie by an event that was almost unheard of in the annals of the Ashby household: Mrs Ashby visiting the kitchen!
Luckily her coming was forewarned by the plain-looking older Colquitt girl, Stephens, running in from wherever she had been hiding and blurting "The Missus is comin'!" As she did so, she caught sight of a rakish and handsome young man who reminded her only ever so slightly of the monster who had followed her in here, only five minutes before.
Mrs Lampeter jumped up with surprising alacrity and Herschelina grabbed Arden's arm.
"Listen, we'll be in trouble having a strange feller in here... pretend you've come for the footman's job!" It wasn't a request.
The door opened and an incredibly pretty and petite woman entered, her every pore oozing gentility and respectability and who carried herself with an air of hauteur. She spoke in a crisp cut-glass English accent as she cast a pair of beautiful dark blue eyes over Arden and registered no surprise over the lad's singular appearance as she turned and spoke to her servants.
"Ah, I thought I heard a man's voice. You must be here for the position. Herschelina, bring him through to the drawing room where I can have a proper look at him in the light." she commanded in a manner that made even Hersh's strident demeanour seem pusillanimous in comparison.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Arden never got an answer, suddenly it was interrupted by a warned (by the redhead no less) of the imminent arrival of the head of the household. Both Mrs. Lampeter and Herschelina were alarmed.
Mrs Lampeter jumped up with surprising alacrity and Herschelina grabbed Arden's arm.
"Listen, we'll be in trouble having a strange feller in here... pretend you've come for the footman's job!"
"Wait, what?" he now shared their alarm, they had invited him inside, it had not been his idea.
Door opened then and in came this very proper refined looking woman, clearly a social class above all others present including Arden.
"Ah, I thought I heard a man's voice. You must be here for the position. Herschelina, bring him through to the drawing room where I can have a proper look at him in the light." she commanded.
He didn't want to get the gal he was going to go to the dance with in trouble so nodded and fell in with the alibi.
"Yes, ma'm. I am," he declared hopefully sounding believable.
The drawing room was dominated by a collection of stuffed African animal heads and curious primitive battle trophies on the wall and a zebra-skin rug on the floor. In the middle of the wall decorations, a portrait of a handsome military gent in a red coat and eye patch stared down somewhat disapprovingly at Arden as he stepped into the room where Mrs Ashby had already ensconced herself like a Queen in her throne room.
The late Major Ashby, at a slight remove in his portrait, still seemed to fill the space and if his voice had suddenly boomed 'What the devil d'ya mean, Sir, wearin' me patch and me best coat?! If it weren't fer this blasted bein' dead business, I'd jump down there and give you the thrashing of your life!" nobody would have been in the least surprised.
After she had bidden Herscheina leave them, the widow lady had a number of questions for the lad: his name, for starters, how much he earned in his current 'position' and so forth. All factual queries. But finally she asked him for something more along the lines of a personal opinion.
"Now, Mr Summerfield, my maid Miss Colquitt seems to believe that my advertisement for a liveried 'footman' goes against the 'American democratic spirit', so, tell me, were I to offer you the position, what title would be acceptable to a patriotic Yankee? Coachman? Too feudal, still, I think. 'Driver', perhaps? I do have a Brougham gathering dust somewhere. Do you have any particular thoughts on the matter?" she asked him.