"MUM!"
"Come Caroline," said Ernest quickly, pulling the girl from the table.
Rosa, wagging her tail meekly, followed them as the butler ushered her outside. A second later the door flung open and Philip stormed out, nearly knocking Ernest to the floor.
"AND DON'T COME BACK! EVER!" Lady Hutchinson's screams echoed through the corridor.
Caroline, her lip quivering and tears on her face, looked up at Ernest.
"What's wrong with mother? Why's she yelling? I'm scared, Ernest."
"It's alright, darling. Come. Let's go into the kitchen for awhile. We'll get a bit of taffee and take Rosa for a walk. Alright?"
The little girl nodded meekly.
"Your mother is just going through a difficult time. She'll be better by tomorrow, I reckon."
But Lady Hutchinson wasn't better by the following day. Nor the next day. Nor the day after. Lying in bed, she would spend the entire day in her room. Being the dutiful servant, Ernest would check on her as often as possible, asking if she'd like some tea or something to eat. But every time she forced him away. Finally, on the fourth day, Ernest went to fetch Miss Foster.
She'll know what to do, he thought as he made her way up the steps leading to her door.
He rang the bell and waited impatiently for Winston to come to the door.
When the butler answered, he smiled. "Ernest, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?"
"I'm...well. Been better. You?"
"Can't complain. This weather sure is putting a damper on things though, isn't it?"
"Yes, 'tis," Ernest answered, glancing upwards at the grey sky with its menacing rain clouds.
"What can I do ya for?"
"Well, I was hoping to see Miss Foster? Is she in?"
"She is not, actually. She went to visit her aunt in Boston. Did she not tell you?"
"No."
"Yes, she left yesterday. She'll be back in a fortnight."
"Oh."
"Sorry."
"No, it's...quite alright," said Ernest slowly.
"But do come in for a bit of tea. The house has been quite lonely without my mistress."
"No, thanks...I have work to do. Another time perhaps."
Winston smiled. "Right. Anytime. Feel free."
"Thank you."
Now what, Ernest thought as Winston closed the door. Surely this can't go on. She hasn't eaten in three days.
Disappointed that Miss Foster would be unable to assist him with his present predicament, Ernest made his way slowly back to the house. In the distance, two lightning forks sliced through the sky. The sound of rumbling thunder followed and the butler quickened his pace.
What to do... What ever to do...
As it turned out, there was no need for Miss Foster. For, arriving back at the house, Ernest found Lady Hutchinson dressed and seated in the parlour, sipping from a tea cup and snacking on a plate of biscuits.
"Madam!"
"Hello, Ernest," she said somewhat cheerfully.
"I've been worried sick about you."
"Yes, well. I'm alright now. I just needed...some time. Some time to sort out my thoughts. Oddly enough, this thunder storm seems to be helping."
As much as the butler wanted to know more, he decided it more polite to wait for her to explain. Pulling up a chair, he sat down slowly and waited.
"I've decided that Caroline and I will return to England this coming Friday," she continued after several seconds of silence had passed. "We'll be taking the overnight carriage from Kingston to Montreal, and from there, the ship to London. However, I have no money to pay for the fare. And with the banks having seized what little savings I had left, I require a small loan."
Lady Hutchinson looked at him and Ernest nodded. "Of course. Anything for you, Madam. How much will you be needing?"
"Oh, I reckon about two hundred pounds."
"Two hundred..."
"Is that alright? Is that too much? I assure you I will send you the payment in full - with interest - within a month. As you are aware, my family has money. I have property. I can easily come up with the money to repay you."
Yes, but that would be every penny I have...
"So...can you loan me the money, Ernest?"
He'd be homeless for a month. But, the Caldwell Code demanded his utmost.
The butler paused then smiled. "Of course, Madam."
"And rest assured, I will repay you at the earliest opportunity."
"Of course you will, Madam."
Lady Hutchinson smiled. "Ah, excellent. You are a charm, Ernest Caldwell. Would you like a cup of tea?"
- 13 -
It was two days later, at precisely eight fifteen in the evening, that Lady Hutchinson and Caroline gave Ernest a final goodbye.
"And I will write you as soon as I get to London."
"Of course, Madam."
"And we'll make arrangements to have Rosa sent over."
Ernest nodded and glanced at Caroline who was still clearly upset her dog would not be making the voyage with her.
"How long is Rosa going to stay with Ernest?" she whined dejectedly, tired of screaming and crying.
"Until we're back and settled at home, dear," said Lady Hutchinson as though she were issuing recipe instructions.
"Rosa, I'll miss you," the little girl cried, kneeling down and embracing her beloved bull terrier.
"It's alright, Caroline," said Ernest tenderly. "You and Rosa shan't be apart for long," he said, though he knew full well Lady Hutchinson had no intention of sending for the canine. He had resolved to ship it off himself though. One way or another.
"Feed her lots of ham, Ernest."
The butler smiled. "I will. Don't you worry. Rosa and I will have a gay old time whilst you're apart. In a few weeks, she'll follow you to England. I'll make sure of it."
Ernest and Lady Hutchinson exchanged a glance.
"Alright..."
"Now, it's getting late. The carriage leaves at nine o'clock sharp. And it doesn't wait."
"Ernest's right, dear. We must get going."
Lady Hutchinson turned and pressed a thumb into his hand. "Thank you, Ernest. You've been a good servant."
The butler bowed. "It was my pleasure and my duty, Madam. Say hello to England for me."
"I shall."
With that, Lady Hutchinson seized her daughter by the hand and pulled her roughly from Rosa.
"Goodbye, Ernest."
"Goodbye, Madam. Goodbye, Caroline."
"Goodbye, Ernest."
Ernest watched them exit the house and make their way to the taxi carriage, Lady Hutchinson leading her daughter by the hand.
"Market Square," he heard Lady Hutchinson say once they were in the taxi carriage.
The driver nodded, cracked his reins, and Ernest watched them pull away and head for Princess Street.
"Well, girl," he said, looking down at the bull terrier as he shut the door.
The dog's big brown eyes stared back at him.
"Shall we fix you a snack? I don't doubt that you're hungry. We haven't had any proper food in days," Ernest muttered, making his way to the kitchen.
He pulled open the cold box and found nothing but a jar of pickled eggs and the small end of ham he'd saved from the day before,
"That about does it," said the butler, unwrapping the ham and setting it on the counter. "What do you say? Half for me and half for you?"
Rosa cocked her head to one side and looked at him.
"Fine, fine. A third for me, and two thirds for you. Fair enough for ya?" he asked, shaking his head disdainfully.
The ham divided, Ernest took one half, threw it to Rosa, and then carried the other half to his bedroom where he lay down on the bed, nibbling thoughtfully.
Oh, mother. If you could only see me now. Not a penny to my name. No employment. Perhaps Miss Foster will hire me? I shall wait for her to return from Boston. Yes. Although Winston may see me as unwanted competition. Hopefully he's game and supports the idea. That
would be a grand way to live out my final days -
There was a sudden creak of the floorboards in the corridor.
What in the name -
The butler sat upright and reached for his lamp. Listening intently, he heard the sound of feet shuffling slowly on the hardwood. Someone was approaching. And quickly.
"Who goes there? Lady Hutchinson? Is that you?"
Too afraid to go to the door and inspect, Ernest sat as still as possible, his eyes straining in the darkness. If only he could light the lamp.
Now where is that light…
The sound of Rosa growling pierced the remaining quiet and the hairs on Ernest's neck stood on end.
"Rosa? Is everything alright, girl?"
A second later, everything happened at once. A man shouted, ran into his room, slammed the door and stared a petrified Ernest in the face.
"Oliver..."
The former groundskeeper stood in the doorway, brandishing a long hunting knife. His eyes gleamed and a wicked smile played across his lips.
"I told you I'd come back for you, Ernest."
THE END
Acknowledgements
Not sure if it's considered tacky or not to acknowledge myself, but it's always a tough slog writing a book. Especially when you work forty hours a week and you deal with a chronic disease like Type 1 diabetes and all the joyous things that go with it! (sarcasm). So, on that note, I'd like to acknowledge myself. My discipline. Foregoing T.V. and nights out and things of that nature to sit down and write. I would say that most of the time I enjoy writing. It's an escape. It's entertainment. But other times it seems more of a chore. For instance, the editing process. Especially when you're editing while your mouth is still frozen (had a dentist appointment a couple hours ago). No, you don't need your mouth to edit. But it's an annoyance. And that, coupled with high blood sugars. Hard to focus. Hard to concentrate. But I keep at. I'm a soldier. A trooper. A happy one. An author. Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
About The Author
Originally from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Adrien Leduc makes his home in Ottawa with his fiancée Jenica and their two crazy cats. He is a graduate of Carleton University (BA' 10) and is passionate about Canadian history. An avid reader and writer, Adrien hopes to write and publish many more books in his lifetime.
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