Five: In Flood's Kitchen

London Evening Standard

September 23, 1902

A burglary was reported to a residence on Pickwick Lane. The serving staff was waking by the sound of shattering glass early in the morning hours. The police were called but nothing of value seems to have been removed from the premise. The house is the primary residence of archeologist Jack Smithson, who is currently in France on an expedition.

Five: In Mrs. Flood’s Kitchen

Wednesday

September 22, 1902

Jo gave terrible directions. Fortunately, the layout of the castle was very easy to navigate. The more she walked the castle grounds and the more familiar she became with the castle, the more Virginia realized that it was designed as a trap. There was only one way to get anywhere, only one entrance for any room. Although the library had two floors, there was only on entrance. There was only one entrance to the dormitories. If one wished to attend a class on the third floor, one must exit the dormitory, go down to the ground floor, walk across the courtyard to the main staircase in the south wing, and climb three flights of stairs.

The school was a maze of repetitive journeys, dead ends, long corridors with only one exit, and a very elaborate means of controlling the traffic of one hundred girls. Every morning the students filed past the Warden’s door, all classrooms were accessible along the same corridor. The library, laboratory, music and art rooms were on the upper levels, entry to which was gained through the main staircase. There were no back doors, short cuts, or alternative routes.

Virginia’s class schedule ran as follows:

Monday mornings were biology with Miss Digress, afternoons in Ancient History. Tuesday belonged to languages: Greek in the mornings with Miss Radcliffe and Latin in the afternoon. Wednesday morning was mathematics with Mr. Fowles followed by world history in the afternoon. Thursday was a class mysteriously noted as "sport." Fridays were gloriously empty of responsibility.

The slip of paper Miss Radcliffe gave Virginia gave cryptic references to the location of the classrooms. S:3; R:1, which translated as the south side of the castle, third floor, first classroom.
First days were always nerve racking. A bell woke all the students at half past six. At that hour in the morning, the sun had barely crested the hill and reached into the castle’s valley. A thick layer of mist clung to the surface of the lake’s water, shrouding the castle in wooly fog. The bedroom’s window proved to be above the line of fog. Looking straight down was like looking into a white abyss.
Virginia trudged down the hall to the shared bathroom, washed her face and grimaced at herself in the mirror, checking for any unsightly object lodged in her teeth. After bathing quickly, she went back to the room to dress. Every student wore a uniform of dark green skirts with white blouses. By the time Virginia arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, half of the student body was already bustling like snow covered leaves, consuming cups of tea, crumpets with sticky strawberry jam and bowls of hot cereals.
Jo and Charlotte were already seated. Jo looked disappointedly at the bottom of her cup and Charlotte was added sugar to the bowl of hot cereal.
"How did you get down here so fast?" she asked, amazed.
"We don’t trudge to the loo and walk about like a zombie," Jo said, "we fly." Jo picked up a teacup and demonstrated their flight by zipping the cup in a flight pattern above her plate. Cold tea sloshed at the sides. She said, "Because if you are too slow, only the burnt crumpets are left."
Point taken, only the burnt crumpets were left. So far the experience at Mauldy was exactly the same as her last school only with different scenery.
Virginia’s day began with mathematics, on the third floor. Charlotte and Josephine also shared the course, as it was required of all third years. The journey to class was preposterous. Her dormitory was on the third floor, the upper most level. Leaving the common room, she heard the lament of other fellow students. "Only Mr. Fowles teaches on the third floor. He does it on purpose. He doesn’t like his students."
"I heard her didn’t even chose the profession of teaching," a girl with dark brown hair in long plaits said. Virginia believed her name to be Susan Finney.
Susan continued, "I heard that the only reason he teaches here is because he is Lady Mauldy’s cousin and will inherit the castle."
"But why is he teaching?" the other girl asked.
"Protecting his investment," Susan stated authoritatively.
Virginia whispered to Josephine, "Is that true?"
Josephine nodded. "But course you must realize that the concept of private property is one used to oppress the working classes. This castle belongs more to the servants and staff who work here, to dedicate time and energy to its upkeep and functioning than it belongs to one single person."
"I wasn’t suggesting that the castle be turned into a commune. I was asking if Fowles is related to Lady Mauldy," Virginia replied tartly.
Down the stairs three flights, which conveniently emptied at the housekeeper’s door, across the main courtyard, into the southern wing of the castle, and up the main staircase for another three flights. There could have easily been a door on the third floor to connect the dormitories to the classrooms but where would have been the forced controlled march of the green uniformed students up and down stairs? It was a subtle form of torture.
The third floor was not used often for classes, the teachers not liking the long climb up the stairs as much as the students. The corridor had a dusty, forgotten aspect. Virginia knew it was silly, that her own bedroom was on the other side of the brick wall that separated the classes from the dormitories, but the third floor gave her a sinister, creeping feeling at the base of her spine.
Folwes’ classroom was the first one off the main staircase, directly to the right. Students filed in quietly and sat at the tables. Virginia, Josephine, and Charlotte sat at a table in the front of the class.
In the center of the room, mimicking her place in the universe, was Regina.
Regina’s eyes fixed on Josephine. "I see you brought your sideshows. That must make you the ring leader of your very own three ring circus."
Vicious giggly ensued. Josephine turned bright red. Judging from her grip on the pencil, the red complexion was due to anger, not embarrassment.
Fowles entered the room. The giggly immediately ceased. Slowly he surveyed the class before setting down his satchel.
"I am not one accustomed to flowery speeches. Let me only advise you that this is mathematics and I am Bernard Fowles. Mathematics is a science. It is art. It is music. Mathematics can express so much more than simple sums and divisions. It is the language of God himself."
Fowles spoke in sharp tones and short sentences.
"Now, the happy few of you will advance to the more complex courses that I offer. Congratulations. Until ten, this is required core curriculum until fifth year and we will have to see it through to the bitter end."
He picked up a piece of white chalk and wrote on the board in large letters: Rules of the Classroom.
"First rule, no talking out of turn. Please write these down, I will not repeat them."
The class reached into satchels and pulled out paper and pencils.
"Second rule, all assigned homework is due at the beginning of the next class. I will not accept late work. Third…" The barrage of rules continued. Virginia wrote until her hand began to cramp.
"Excellent," Fowles said, setting the chalk down and wiping the dust from his hands. "Now we can begin our work. I trust you all have your texts, A Third Year’s Mathematics. Excellent, please turn to page fifteen and read silently."
The next hour was spent with Fowles lecturing on equations, the balance and perfect symmetry each equation wanted to achieve, the mysteries of X equals Y, demonstrating with examples, and the modest fifty problems each student was assigned.
Josephine and Charlotte needed to return to the dormitories briefly. Virginia proceeded to the Great Hall for Lunch.
Lunch was in the Great Hall, where all meals were served. Until like at the banquet the night before when the food was already waiting on the tables, the food was served at a buffet along eastern wall. Servers doled out portions of mushy peas and mashed potatoes.
Virginia found a table where she had the space to set up her mathematics book and solve a few problems and eat at the same time. She had a system. Every question solved was rewarded with a few bites. The exercise kept her distracted from the sad fact that she was eating alone.
"I trust, Smithson, that you will not get mashed potatoes on my assignment," a dour voice said.
Virginia replied before looking up. "No, that was not part of my plan."
"I do not look kindly on stained and greasy papers," Fowles said. "And your conclusion for number four is wrong."
"I don’t like to eat alone," Virginia said, erasing the conclusion for question four. "I did not see my sister or my friends, so I will distract myself with work. Unless you would like to eat with me, please leave me to my methods."
A smile tugged at the corner of Fowles’ mouth. "As you were, Smithson."
Pencil had barely returned to the page when, "Who was that? Was that your teacher?"
Nessa sat herself opposite Virginia, tray with food platter, silverware, and drink clattering noisily.
"You teacher, too. Mathematics."
"He seems grumpy."
"I think it’s an act to get us unruly students to behave. I bet he’s alright."
Josephine and Charlotte appeared. They had needed to retrieve their books for Literature, a course which they shared in the afternoon.
"Is Fowles’ picking on you," Jo demanded.
"Probably but I’m not scared of him." Virginia quickly introduced her sister to her roommates.
"He terrorizes, that’s what he does," Jo said. "And he always singles out one girl in particular and heaps on extra abuse for her."
"Extra abuse? But we all do get the abuse?" Virginia asked.
"There’s plenty for all."
"Even about Bernard Fowles," Charlotte said. "What about the mysterious figure in the woods?"
"Oh!" Nessa shouted. "That’s much more exciting than maths."
"Could have been anyone," Virginia said.
"Anyone," Jo said, "but probably not a student or a teacher. The drawbridge is lift at night. There’s no way out of the castle."
"The groundskeeper?"
"He wasn’t at the banquet last night," Charlotte added. "But what was he doing?"
"Grounds keeping?" Virginia offered.
Josephine laughed. "Do you have a serious bone in your body?"
"Oh, she can," Nessa said. "Do the face you make when you’re yelling at Cyril. That’s a rather good face."
"Do be quiet," Virginia said.
"That’s the face!"
World History was in the afternoon. This class was held on the ground floor, in the wing behind the Great Hall. As before, there was no way to get there from Great Hall. Virginia was walking down the corridor past the series of gruesome tapestries to the exit when she walked past an open door and caught a glimpse of the Gallery in the daylight. Compelled, she entered.
The room was flood with soft daylight provided from the enormous windows on the north-facing wall. The windows were draped with heavy green velvet, tied back with golden cords. Between the windows were more paintings. Beyond the windows were the blue waters of the lake and the shore, dotted with trees. No mysterious figures in the woods now.
Virginia turned to find the painting that caught her attention last night, before the figure appeared.
The remaining three walls of the Gallery were covered in paintings, every possible surface. In the dark was possible only to make out the size and shape of the largest pieces but not the smaller ones closer to the ceiling. Very little of the wood paneling showed between the gilded golden frames.
There were so many paintings, so many faces starring down at her, illustrious members of the Mauldy family, and scenes of the bible and mythology enacted with pretty, nearly nude models. Models were always nearly nude. Apparently no one dressed properly back in the mists of time.
The catalogue painting was hanging in the vicinity of where Virginia remembered it to be. The painting showed a large room filled with paintings. It was this room, the gallery. In the center was a tall, older man. He stood behind a settee. One handed rested on the shoulder of a small child sitting on the settee. She wore a navy dress with a wide pink ribbon at the waist. Her feet did not touch the ground.
The pair was having their portrait painted. The artist’s back was to the audience and his work in progress was on display.
Virginia searched the walls of the Gallery. No where in the room was the family portrait on display.
However, a large portrait hung between the two windows caught her eye. It was the same serious old man, frown heavily, one hand behind his back, the other pointing to something off the canvas. Virginia followed to where his finger would be pointing, which was a cluster of paintings on the other side of the room. She turned back to the painting. There was no label on the frame and no obvious artist’s signature. The old man looked as if he had too much important work to let old age catch up him, much less waste his remaining time on this earth posing for a painting.
"That is my grandfather, Sirius," a masculine voice said from behind.
"He looks as if he never smiled," Virginia replied, not taking her eyes from the painting.
"I don’t think he did." Fowles stood in the doorway, carrying a satchel heavy with books.
A moment of silence as they both regarded the unhappy old man’s portrait.
"You do not want to be late, Smithson."
Virginia said nothing but quickly dashed out of the room.
The bell signifying the start of class rang just as Virginia slide into a seat the front of the class. She wasn’t a teacher’s pet but the only seats open were at the front. No one liked to be directly in the line of fire.
In the middle of the seats, at a table with Beatrice, was Regina. The heaviest concentration of students was clustered around their table. It was probably her table. Regina most likely did not share anything.
Fowles entered the room, the door banging behind him. "Please stop all idle chatter, I am not in the mood to indulge you."
He paused as he reached the podium and look at Virginia quizzically. "As you may have noticed, I am not Miss Whoever it Was Who Last Held This Post, nor would I want to be. I have been assured that there is a proper history teacher on her way this very moment, until then, I will substitute." A groan seemed to escape from the collective body of the class.
"I am as thrilled with the situation as you seem to be. Please open your books to Chapter One."
Virginia opened her tomb entitled ubiquitously World History to the first chapter, The Nature of History. Fowles barked out commands for various students to read a passage.
Virginia read her passage, "In essence history is the total recorded past of humankind on this earth: the totality of human experience. Inasmuch as all aspects of this great experience are not of equal importance either to an understanding of how the world of the present got the way it is, or in comprehending how men lived in the past, or in learning how changes were made which got us from primitive society to the present complex societies, the historian has to make selections from the total record for special study." This text was the height of tedium.
"Thank you. Miss Pomepanz, if you please."
Regina began to speak, "These selections, based upon the major categories of man’s behavior in society, provide the historian with his orienting themes. Thus the historian endeavors to…" She paused. "I’m sorry. I just don’t see why I should have to bother with learning about boring events that happened a longtime ago and really don’t make a difference in my life."
Folwes’ face seemed to get just a touch red. "I am no lover of history or antiquities, Miss Pomepanz, but let me assure you that the subject must be of some merit to warrant a class in this institution."
"It just doesn’t seem very…relevant," she said at length. The class broke out in a nervous tittering of laughter.
Fowles’ top lip drew back in a sneer. "If you chose to remain ignorant, Miss Pomepanz, that is your choice but I implore you not to plunge your classmates into darkness."
Virginia really liked Fowles at that moment.
"I believe we all can benefit from an academic exercise. Three pages on the importance of learning history’s lessons. I implore you, please learn from this lesson, lest you be doomed to repeat it."
The class groaned. Fowles remained unmoved. He said, "You may all thank Miss Pomepanz for your essays."
Class was dismissed. Virginia gathered her books and papers.
Crossing the courtyard, the stooped hawk figure of Mrs. Flood was waiting, talon hands clasp in front of her person. "Ah, Miss Smithson. I trust to see you and your associates this afternoon. I have a little list you can help me with."
Twenty minutes later, Virginia was peeling potatoes in the kitchen with Charlotte and Josephine.
"And she just called the class boring?" Charlotte asked in disbelief. They sat at a wooden worktable, a pile of potatoes and a pot of water between them.
"It was," Virginia said, "but I can’t believe the nerve, interrupting Fowles. He’s a man you don’t cross."
"Or question."
"I like him," Virginia said, surprised at her own opinion.
"You can’t be serious," Josephine said. "He’s a tyrant, always glowering, never smiles, assigns extra homework when he’s in a bad mood, and he punishes the entire class when he really wants to hurt just one person."
"I think he’s funny."
"Funny? There’s nothing funny about the man." Jo dropped a potato in a pot of salted water.
"I don’t know. I was in the Gallery after lunch and Fowles found me."
"You couldn’t have gotten in trouble," Charlotte said. "Lady Mauldy said we were welcome to visit the gallery anytime during the daylight."
"I wasn’t in trouble," Virginia said. "It’s not that. There’s a portrait of a really horrible old man and Fowles said it was his grandfather, Sirius."
"So it’s true, he is Lady Mauldy’s cousin," Josephine said.
"A cousin of some sort. But that’s not the weird thing."
"Having a nearly civil conversation with Fowles is weird."
"No," Virginia said, "in the catalogue painting I say last night, Sirius’ portrait was hanging in a different spot. And another painting in the catalogue is missing. I mean, it wasn’t in the Gallery."
"So?" Charlotte asked. "I sure people rearrange their paintings from time to time."
Virginia pressed her lips together, remember the old man’s serious glare and pointing to something. Staring into his eyes, you felt for sure that he was trying to show you something.
"Even museum rearrange their collections," Charlotte continued.
Mrs. Flood’s voice pierced their conversation. "More peeling and less talking, girls. This is not a socializing event."
The kitchen was located next to the Great Hall. Long and narrow, it had high ceilings with tall, narrow windows to let in the light. The kitchen was filled with cast iron stoves, brick ovens, the ancient hearths and fireplaces no longer in service and table after table with food being prepared. A modest army of twelve women cleaned, prepared, and cooked food all day long for the students. The kitchen was a blur of activity and a den of the most welcoming fragrances.
A rosy cheeked woman set a plate of biscuits on the tables. "Don’t mind her, girls," the woman said. "She’s always barking orders at someone. Have a little bite to eat, girls. You’re working so hard, you must be peckish."
"Thank you, Flora," Jo said.
"Spend a lot of time in here?" Virginia asked.
Flora patted a flour-covered hand on Jo’s shoulder. "Seems you spent most of last year in here with my girls."
"No better place in the entire castle," Jo said.
"Now you’re just teasing." Flora left, leaving the appetizing biscuits on the table.
"You should organize with the other staff and demand better wages," Jo said.
"We’ll have none of that labor union talk today," Flora said.
Charlotte stuffed a biscuit in her mouth. "So spill the dirt," she said, mouth full.
"I had some trouble last year," Jo admitted. Despite Flora’s admonishments to continue on gossiping and that Flood was harmless, they spoke in softer tones, the better to avoid the ears of Flood.
"What kind of trouble?" Virginia asked. She was use to some form of trouble. Between Nessa and herself, they had a complete disregard for their safety and wellbeing. The Smithson girls were usually in trouble.
"I believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my previous roommates."
"Who?" Charlotte asked
"Who else?"
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. "I’ve met so many people."
"Regina," Virginia said.
"And Beatrice. What a charming duo."
"And so you had a civil war in the room?" Virginia placed a peeled potato in the pot and grabbed another from the pile. Her hands were sticky with starch from the raw tubers.
"We got on well for the first two months." Another potato in the pot. "Then Beatrice spread this horrible rumor about my family."
"What rumor?" Charlotte was good with the obvious questions.
A sour looked crossed Josephine’s face. "It’s well known that my mother is American, an heiress from a wealthy family. My father is what some politely call the impoverish nobility."
"Your father married your mother for money," Charlotte said. "Lots of people do that. Nothing new there. Edith Wharton wrote an entire book about it."
"But the question is where did my mother’s money come from."
Virginia spoke. "There’s no shame that your mother’s family worked for their money. It speaks of ingenuity, determination, and…and…There’s nothing wrong with hard work. My family owns a textile mill in Southwark."
"Beatrice said my money came from a circus," Jo said.
Virginia and Charlotte looked at her in stunned silence for a second. A potato fell to the floor.
"That explains the three ringed circus comment during maths," Virginia said.
"Barnum and Bailey’s circus, the greatest show on earth. Everywhere I went people made elephant noises. Sometimes at my desk I would find peanuts in their shells. I’m not from circus money."
"Where does your money come from," Virginia asked casually.
"That’s not important," Jo replied.
"And how does Regina fit into this?" Charlotte asked.
"Oh," Jo said, tone of voice becoming falsely light and sweet. "She was my friend, would never believe a negative word about, even if I did come from circus money."
"I like the circus," Virginia said feebly.
"There’s nothing wrong with the circus," Jo snapped, "but you can’t imagine the whispering and conversations that stop when you enter the room, and the only people you counted on as friends laugh at you behind your back." Then, quietly, "The worst part was having absolutely no one to trust."
"We’re your friends," Charlotte said.
"You don’t know what Regina’s like. Everyone loves her, absolutely loves and adores her. It’s like she can do no wrong. She sets the fashion, the trends, and everyone follows. Even when she’s mean, and she is, the girls just smile and can’t believe that Regina actually talked to them."
"Popularity," Virginia murmured.
"That’s not how the real word works," Charlotte said.
"No," Jo stated, "this is a perfect example of how society works, with elitist classes insulting the lower classes and the lower classes just tickled pink that a high and mighty spared the time to berate them. Such an honor."
Mrs. Flood drifted through the kitchen. She paused at the table, the three girls with frowns on their faces and silently peeling potatoes. She smiled, pleased.
Virginia broke the silence. "So how did you get all that detention last year?"
"Oh, I cut off Regina’s beautiful hair."
"What!"
"Snip snip in the middle of the night. Of course, they couldn’t pin the blame on me. No scissors, no evidence. No suspension but plenty of detention."
"What happened to the scissors?"
"Dropped them out the window into the lake."
"And what did Regina do?" Charlotte asked.
"Nothing," Jo said, "Regina walked about pretty as you please. Suddenly it was all the rage last winter to wear one’s hair short. She’s untouchable, that one."
Eventually the last potato was peeled. Flora appeared with a tray filled with cucumber sandwiches. "You might as well eat in here, dears. Help yourselves."
Hands aching from the repetitive motion of peeling and stomachs full, the three made the journey back across the courtyard and up the steep stairs to the dormitories.
Virginia was prepared for bed, in flannel nightdress, and lounging on the bed, writing in her journal.
Charlotte sat on her bed by the window, absently brushing her hair.
"Shall we leave the window open?" Jo asked.
"Let’s close it, please," Virginia said. "The air is so damp tonight."
Jo moved to close the window. "What is that?"
Across the lake, on the shore, a light was moving through the trees.
Virginia and Charlotte were at her side, jockeying for a clear view from the window.
"The light?" Charlotte asked.
"Yes, the light." Jo said.
"Someone must be in the woods," Virginia said.
"Could be the groundskeeper," Charlotte offered helpfully.
Virginia and Jo remained silent, churning over reason why it was not the groundskeeper. The groundskeeper, in theory, would have nothing to hide and would use a light to move through the trees at night. He was keeping the grounds; it was his job. The figure they saw last night did not have a light, was seeking in the cover of darkness. That was the mystery.
"Must be the groundskeeper," Virginia concluded.
"But what if it’s not?" Jo asked.
"It can’t be a student," Virginia reasoned aloud. "The drawbridge is closed at night. We’re locked in the castle until morning."
"Then it’s not a teacher, either."