Why is the Rum Gone?
Posted: 17 Jan 2025, 06:00
Usually, when a new member was introduced to the household, Della was eager to greet and welcome them into the family. Della was not a servant; she was the Countess of Ripon, but she never behaved as other ladies did toward their staff. She considered them more family than her husband and his sons, who could never be bothered to stay in her company more than was required to maintain appearances for the ton. She treated her staff as family. Unfortunately, she had been visiting with a friend outside of London when a previous maid switched households to work in the same place as her new husband. Della knew Grace was leaving, but she was purposely gone to miss the hard goodbyes. She was very curious when she returned to the information she had a new maid called Fred. Fred was a man’s name. She never knew a male maid.
Before Della made a spectacle of herself by this assumption, Miss Martha Butterfield, the head of house staff, informed her that Fred was short for Winifred. She wondered about Fred if she only carried a mannish pet name or had a mannish air about her. No matter what she could have expected, the countess was not prepared for the woman she found polishing silver in the dining room. Sixteen settings of silver for a great formal dinner, and Della never had more than four people at the table, herself included. Despite the rich rose-colored gown satin she wore, the Countess sat at the table and carefully set to the task of polishing the silver right alongside the new maid. The countess was not exceptional at the task, but she was more skilled than most of her ilk women, who never sullied themselves with any degree of servant chores.
“Hello, you must be Fred, I mean... Miss Readman. I am Della, or Lady Ripon… if you must. Martha mentioned you when I returned. Are you settling in well? I do hope the others are not giving you much trouble. Martha is very nice; she comes off stern, but don’t let her fool you.”
The Countess settled into conversation with Fred as though they had known each other for ages. She was just a friend, helping her with her current task. Della was not taking the mick; it was her way with people. Anyone who entered her home was greeted as a friend or family until they proved otherwise. Fred did not look mannish; she looked… boyish. At least Fred could pass as a boy much better than Della ever could. Not that the Countess pranced around pretending she was a boy all the time, but she thought to try it as a disguise to go adventuring. No one was buying it, and her husband was livid. Oh yes, because the abandoned wife must not humiliate the husband, who could be an embarrassment to her and the whole ton if she ever revealed his secrets. Della never bothered. Ripon was lucky his wife was too kind a soul for all that.
Before Della made a spectacle of herself by this assumption, Miss Martha Butterfield, the head of house staff, informed her that Fred was short for Winifred. She wondered about Fred if she only carried a mannish pet name or had a mannish air about her. No matter what she could have expected, the countess was not prepared for the woman she found polishing silver in the dining room. Sixteen settings of silver for a great formal dinner, and Della never had more than four people at the table, herself included. Despite the rich rose-colored gown satin she wore, the Countess sat at the table and carefully set to the task of polishing the silver right alongside the new maid. The countess was not exceptional at the task, but she was more skilled than most of her ilk women, who never sullied themselves with any degree of servant chores.
“Hello, you must be Fred, I mean... Miss Readman. I am Della, or Lady Ripon… if you must. Martha mentioned you when I returned. Are you settling in well? I do hope the others are not giving you much trouble. Martha is very nice; she comes off stern, but don’t let her fool you.”
The Countess settled into conversation with Fred as though they had known each other for ages. She was just a friend, helping her with her current task. Della was not taking the mick; it was her way with people. Anyone who entered her home was greeted as a friend or family until they proved otherwise. Fred did not look mannish; she looked… boyish. At least Fred could pass as a boy much better than Della ever could. Not that the Countess pranced around pretending she was a boy all the time, but she thought to try it as a disguise to go adventuring. No one was buying it, and her husband was livid. Oh yes, because the abandoned wife must not humiliate the husband, who could be an embarrassment to her and the whole ton if she ever revealed his secrets. Della never bothered. Ripon was lucky his wife was too kind a soul for all that.