The Butler Didn't Do It

The Guests Arrive

Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you. Standing in his new (ill-fitting) livery, Brett couldn’t have been more thrilled that training was over. Besides the backbreaking, sweat-inducing tasks they were given, he’d finally realized what it was like to not be the cool guy. It was awful.

They’d been split into smaller groups. He’d ended up with the purple-haired Tanya, her Chinese-American (he knew because she had corrected him very sternly when he made a joke) friend Wen, and the overly enthusiastic Max. All three newbies would act as servants of the lowest order, the boys as low-level butlers and Tanya as a scullery maid. Wen had been promoted to a housemaid. “Promoted” seemed like an odd work. She still had to clean, but her job was less grueling than Tanya or the boys. It was common for first-year staff to start at the bottom. Their duties were more about keeping the machine that was Bowers Manor running smoothly. But they would be called upon to keep the guests happy with a myriad of requests. Their training had included doing line runs (with a serving tray), horseback riding (with a serving tray), and dancing (not with a serving tray).

During all of this, Brett had tried to get Tanya to realize what a cool of a guy he was. However, all of his attempts to impress her were quickly shut down. She didn’t seem to have time to talk to him. Or look at him. Why doesn’t she like talking to me? I’m interesting. He thought angrily one night. It’s not like she’s a loner. She is friendly with Wen and all the others. I see her chatting and laughing with Max all the time. He glared at the wall with this thought. He’d often seen them walk off together to “explore” the many promenade paths that would later be reserved for those who paid to be well-heeled.

Brett’s first point of contact, who’d he’d report to, was Lars, a no-nonsense man who had worked his way up to the butler chain. While Gregory was still above him, a step away from manservant, Lars could issue all the orders to the rest of the butlers. If someone needed something, Lars would tell the closest second-butler to fetch it. If there was any mess, Lars could order another butler to clean it up. Brett envied the man.

The politics of Bowers Manor became apparent during training. The second butlers, cooks, and scullery maids were at the bottom. Next were the chefs, first butlers, and lady’s maids. They were a step below the manservant, housekeepers, and cooks. The higher up you became the more you were paid and the less dirty you were likely to become. Clothing fitted better. And, Brett had heard, it wasn’t uncommon for a higher ranking butler or lady’s maid and a wealthy patron to hit it off. Of course, that was strictly against the rules. But the brother/sisterhood of the house kept anyone from ratting on each other. As long as the manservant and housekeeper were in the dark, no one cared what fun could be snatched it seemed.

There were hints that the manor wasn’t as picture perfect as the brochures and training videos made it seem. He’d noticed, a certain shadow over some of the more experienced employees. They didn’t seem quite as exuberant as the new workers. Perhaps the novelty had worn off…or something else. Brett had noticed several times that a small group would be huddled in a corner and if anyone approached them they would quickly disperse. He recalled how concerned Gregory’s blond friend, Lucy, had been that first day. Were there darker happening, lurking behind the gilded corridors that his duster couldn’t unearth?

There was little time to ponder that avenue of inquiry. The first day of the season had finally arrived and Brett, with the other servants, was ready to help arriving guests settle in their rooms. The afternoon was hot, and Brett wished he could loosen his tie just a little…. but he knew he could literally be fired for such a “transgression” and he hadn’t gone through all that training for nothing.

The first guests to arrive that afternoon was a young lady, Brett guessed around 14 or 15 years old, and her mother. Both of them with honey blond hair and impossibly long eyelashes. The older woman looked around the opulent gardens, the resplendent fountains with an impressed expression.

“Didn’t I tell you, Didi? This place is fabulous!”

The girl, Didi, didn’t even bother to pretend she was happy. “I just was hoping for something more fun and car-like my birthday present.”

Her mother shrugged “You’ve already totaled two cars. I certainly wasn’t going to buy you another one.”

“No need. Dad already had one ordered.”

The mother pursed her lips. “Of course he did”

Mr. Davidson emerged from the cool interior of the great house, “Welcome to Bowers Manor. May I escort you inside?

They followed the man inside. Davidson signaled for Brett to get the bags to the rooms.

It took half-an-hour but the heavy bags were eventually delivered successfully to the rooms. Brett knew that when he removed his jacket that night his white shirt would be ringed with sweat. Perhaps that’s why servant’s outerwear had always been black He surmised.

Two hours later Brett was still busy helping guests into their rooms. They had begun to arrive all at once, sending the house into the kind of organized chaos that they were trained to handle... In one room he had to line a bookshelf with the books (which had been compactly packed in an impossibly heavy suitcase) in alphabetical order for a scarecrow-like man. Another guest was loath to let anyone touch her things without her being present. She followed Brett to and from her room as he brought up her bags and continued to watch Brett as he adjusted her curtains just so.

But all of this he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was who had walked in around 6 pm. He was running up the stairs, drowning in sheets and pillowcases an old woman had demanded because she claimed her new ones smelled musty. When he had a foot on the third stair he heard someone yell his name.

“Brett! Is that you?”

Brett stopped. He knew that voice. Light, tinkling, like a bell. But it couldn’t be…

Brett?” Questioned the light sing-song voice again.

Stunned, he turned. Don’t let it be her he prayed.

But there she was, a vision as always, Veronica Shrowster. And she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the smirking personification of betrayal, his old “friend” John Donnaly. Close behind were two others of the posse, Rachel, Tyler. Veronica stared at him with curiosity and shock but the other’s gazes were more how like a snake might look at a mouse. Brett was prey to them. And they looked hungry.

Brett tried to not show his panic in his voice. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, I’d heard a rumor that you were working as a Butler. I didn’t believe it.” John explained. And Brett knew in that instant he was lying. He did believe it. And he dragged the others here to see it. “So I convinced my father to pay for our week here. I mean I heard you needed money, but if you were in such dire straights you could’ve asked me for help.” John finished.

Unable to control himself, Brett sputtered, “If you wanted to help me so much you wouldn’t have left me holding the bag for----“

“HELLO Ladies and gentleman” he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders and turn him back toward the stairs, “I am happy to assist you, I’m afraid our butler has his hands full at the moment but fear not, your needs shall be met by a far more qualified set of hands.

He could hear is old “friends” giggling. Gregory leaned in and whispered so only Brett could hear. “Get it together. You can’t afford to be fired.” With that Gregory gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs.

He felt lost in a fog anger, self-pity when he saw Tanya. She was standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him. She’d seen the whole thing. He passed her, deliberately ignoring her curious eyes.

Jesus, I thought drama event was scheduled Wednesday.

Brett stood silently against the wall as the guests ate their late dinner. They’d all been able to rest and change into the clothes that had been created for them. Men looked austere in black suits, of finer fabric and cut than even the most butlery of butlers. The women gleamed with dazzling gowns. Many had brought jewelry to emphasize their wealth. They all truly looked like the polite society of a 1900 dinner party.

Appearances proved to be deceiving, however. Didi proved to be high maintenance, demanding 4 different spoons because of dust spots only she seemed talented enough to see. She was also very keen that Tanya be the one to get her each new spoon from the kitchen. Her mother, though more polite to the staff was getting drunker as the night wore on. Her reason for drinking could easily be traced to one person: A well-built, clean-shaven man, talking to the pretty woman seated next to him. Didi and her mother were quietly arguing about something. Then the handsome man turned his gaze to Didi’s mother.

“That dress is quite lovely.” He said.

The woman, instead of thanking him, looked suspicious. “Thank you…”

He continued “It would look far better on you if you lost that extra 10 though, am I right?” He aimed this last aside to Didi.

Wow. There’s got to be history there. Brett thought as Didi giggled and her mother turned bright red.

The other guests seemed concerned with their own insular lives. The large cranky man was busy demanding that a maid clean up the wine he spilled on the table. Or his shirt. Or the floor. He particularly liked to spill his wine on the floor. His wife was doing her best to ignore his behavior.

An older woman, with glowing brown skin that made it impossible to guess her age, seemed like the kind of older lady who loved drama. Especially causing it.

“Dear, I can’t help but like your nail varnish.” She said looking Rachel’s hand.

“Thank you!” Rachel gushed.

“Is it to signal to onlookers that you are the “edgy” one in your group?”

“Um…what?”

“Apologies. I just assumed that you were the designated edgy girl while that one,” the woman nodded her head toward Veronica, “is the golden-girl. Boys hang out with you and date her---”

“I get plenty of dates thank you very much.”

“Well, not more than me.” Veronica joked

Brett winced a little. Veronica still isn’t great at jokes. But god she’s so pretty….

Veronica and Rachel bickered the rest of the meal. John and Tyler did their best to not get involved. The old woman smiled as she watched her handiwork.

The owner of the manor, Lord Richardson, sat next to the man who’d been so particular about his books. The man was asking lots of questions and seemed quite curious about the whole house. Rodgers looked flattered and their conversation was animated. Brett was glad some people were having fun. He yawned and stifled it quickly, looking around for Mr. Davidson to make sure he hadn’t noticed. But the manservant stood behind the gorgeous woman who was married to the round man. Brett was sure he saw the manservant’s hand brush against the woman’s arm when he helped her get a glass of water but no…that would be a “transgression.” Davidson really was so keen was he on all the rules and protocol.

Eventually, Rodgers struck his fork against his water glass. He addressed the room of expectant onlookers, “Ladies and gentleman I hope that you have enjoyed the first, of many, meals you are to partake in at Bowers Manor. I want to welcome you all warmly to my home. Here you are my guests and your every whim shall be fulfilled. As you may have noticed there are butlers, maids, and staff all around, eagerly awaiting your to know your wishes.”

Brett noticed Gregory stand up straighter looking proud. John noticed to and whispered something to Veronica, who snickered. God Brett thought I wish he wasn’t such a goody-goody.

“Now it is time to get more rest so you can enjoy the house and all the activities we have arranged for you. Ring the bell by your bed should you want for anything. Good night.”

Late that night, Brett was finally able to sink into his own bed, exhausted. It was the first day. He told himself as he drifted to sleep. And that’s always the hardest. I hope.