"Yes, I believe, you do not like the struggle sir."

"The struggle?" His forehead crinkled meaning for me to go further.

"Between the sorrows of earth and the blissful peace of heaven, they do seem oblivious to man's sufferings but it is beautiful, is it not? Or at least true, because those in heaven cannot help us we must choose our own way up there, unlike so many things out of our hands at least in this we all have a choice."

The answer was enough I thought, since society had taught me I was not permitted to analyze anything. Being a woman and someone of my inferiority did not give me much space for delights of the mind yet this felt like a surge of new blood pumping through my veins.

"Still waters run deep indeed," he said and I tightened my hands against each other when his eyes touched mine there was something in the midst of their stoutness in which I could see a flicker of light break through every once in a while.

Or maybe it was how he thought my words were to be regarded as sound judgment, "what is your birth name Miss Stewart?"

"Alice."

"Alice come with me," Mr. Howard's pace was quick and he went over to farther bookshelves and climbed up on the stairs to get a book.

"Here read this," he placed a book on my hands and I looked questionably at it, what if something happened to it I might get in trouble. "I command it if you are thinking of reasons not to."

"Are you very sure? I do not want to..."

"It is a favor to me, and once you are finished report back to me, are we understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Have a good day Miss Alice," he said instead of Miss Stewart though why he called Ms. Johnson and I as if we were eligible family girls was beyond my rationale. We were not; we were the lowest servant or should have been, yet I served him like a personal maid then was ordered around by everyone to do a housemaid's work.

The very night I began the reading Mr. Howard asked of me it was a novel called Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray, a very satirical take on one's placement in society. There was a sense of purpose in the alone time I spent for once with this book, I had been feeling very restless here in the country but this was something grounding. The staff was also more relaxed and off edge since the intentions of the master was to stay in Stanley Hall for a while.

Mr. Eugene's trip had been quick, it took three days for the master's things to arrive at the Hall, they were all taken up to the tower so I could not see what they had been tasked to get. But Mr. Howard was very busy with whatever had come from his seaside cottage and I imagined what his former living place was like. Mrs. Hall said she liked it there, in fact she was born in the nearby town where the cottage was and she wrote from time to time to a couple of friends her and Gertie had there.

"Oh it was just a pretty little place, barely a thing to do but to pace around all day looking up to the sky counting clouds," Mrs. Hall said and Ms. Johnson who had always been so tame had come back a wreck from the trip.

"Mr. Eugene I did exactly as you asked me to, so if you do not like then here do it yourself!" Ms. Johnson shoved the cleaning material on to his hand.

"I will not have you talk to me like that Ms. Johnson! Where are your manners you foolish country girl!" He shouted at her and she turned around and paid him no more attention.

"Mr. Eugene do learn to control yourself won't you, it's rather alarming to see a man like you losing his ground." Mrs. Hall winked at Ms. Johnson and I hid my smile with my hand to no further offend Mr. Eugene but he must have had it coming for some years now.

"Mrs. Hall," he complained holding the cleaning cloth ready to go do it again, "Mr. Howard needs a knife can one of you take care of it please while I tend to the wood in the drawing room?"

"Surely Mr. Eugene," Mrs. Hall nodded and when he walked out she laughed so loudly I could almost forget how serious this house was. "Oh dear Ms. Johnson thank you for finally coming around to it, I have been waiting for years, oh child thank you," she patted Ms. Johnson on the back while we three laughed when Gertie came in.

"What is going on here? I thought I heard something strange, laughter, how could it be?" Gertie questioned.

"Miss Stewart here is this knife, be a dear and take it to him in the tower room," Mrs. Hall asked while Ms. Johnson began to tell the tale, "oh and ask him when he wants to eat as well."

"Yes Mrs. Hall," I held the knife.

"Well thank God Ms. Johnson I hope you told him off on your trip as well, Mr. Eugene sure knows how to drive the women mad in all the wrong ways," Gertie said and I left to go up to the master and finally discover what he had been hiding up there in that tower.

"It's Miss Stewart may I come in Mr. Howard?" I asked outside the half open door.

"Yes come in," he said and the room was in more disarray than his room in London at least here he had a proper study to hide it.

"Here's the knife you..." I saw a medium canvas half painted when he moved out of the way, "asked for Mr. Howard."

"Right thank you," he picked up the knife from my hand but I held on to the sharp part of it so he could hold it by the handle and cut the side of my hand.

"Ow, forgive me sir," I hid the cut with my other hand.

"Oh God, here, give it to me," he put down the knife and grabbed my hand to look at the cut which had spread some blood on my hands.

"I should have been more careful," I shook my head at my lack of attention to the knife.

"Nonsense it is my fault," he ran his thumb by the side of the cut leaving me with a deep sensation of care which I was not exposed to other than from family. "This should help," he took off his neckwear and tied it around my hand.

My employer, the master of the house had just taken care of my hand instead of yelling at me to be more careful with his things then I heard my mother's voice "not too tolerable" echo in my head.

"Um I..." I stared at the floor not coming up with words.

"How bad is it Alice?" He took the knife and wiped the blood off on one of the papers he came home with in London, it was a sketch, he had many spread across his study. But what hit me was how he called me Alice; it had been so long since the familiar name had been used to call on me.

"Not too bad," the tight neckwear around my hand made most of the pain decrease.

"I promise to not ask you to hold a knife again but I needed to deal with the paints," he used the knife to cut open a box with new oil paints.

"You are a painter sir?"

"Yes, luxury afforded me the privilege of not being a starving artist, though my father probably still turns in his grave every time I use that word, art."

"Well I am sorry sir since you are rather great at it," I looked at the sea he was halfway done with, he had chosen to paint the best view one could get from up here. And in his paintings there were subdued tones of blues and greens mixed with lighter ones, as if he could not help himself but mix in his innate shadowy self when I noticed how close I had gotten to his art.

"What do you think of that one?" He asked of a finished one, it was a faded London street with everyone painted in silhouettes except one mother and her child whom were wholly detailed.

"It is... A little sad sir."

"Precisely," his mood changed into gloominess.

"Well then I should get to the rest of the work."

"Absolutely not, tell Mrs. Hall you are to stay in your room for the rest of the day and for Eugene to bring my dinner here at half past seven," he opened one of his paints and I was relived he answered the question I was about to forget to ask.

"But Mr. Howard it is a small cut I am fine."

"Come Alice simply obey my orders and we will be the happier for it," he said busy with his paints.

"Yes sir," I disliked his orders but I did not want to argue with my employer so I hurried out to pass his orders on.

Mrs. Hall saw me first and I hid my hand back afraid she'd take his neckwear away from me.

"Miss Stewart what did the master say?"

"He told me to stay in my room for the rest of the day and for Mr. Eugene to bring his dinner to the study at half past seven."

"He cannot be serious, this girl has barely worked with us and she is already getting a day off while I sit here cutting up fruits, making his imported tea, toasting bread, ham, and then he wants Apple Snow Balls? I mean where does the man fit it all?" Gertie complained.

"Gertie shame on you, if the master's appetite has increased we should thank God for it, it would do no one any good to see him waste the years of his youth away." Mrs. Hall looked back to be stern with Gertie, besides the master she was the only one who would dare put Gertie in her place and Gertie took it well enough.

"Mrs. Hall he is not your boy to take care of anymore but still I will make the best Apple Snow Balls he has ever eaten," Gertie made noises taking out the pans from the cabinets as Mrs. Hall rolled her eyes at her.

"And you what did you do dear?" Mrs. Hall asked curiously.

"I cut my hand Mrs. Hall," I quickly untied the neckwear hiding it in the clean hand and showed her my bloody hand.

"Well Gertie if you want to cut your hand as well for a day off be my guest, and you poor thing go clean it and stay in your room we don't want it opening into something bigger." Mrs. Hall looked at it reprimanding Gertie's jealousy and laziness which by now like the rest I knew well of were a part of her charm.

"Yes Mrs. Hall," I said and she turned to lecture Gertie.

"He is not my boy, but I made a promise Gertie and you know well enough of it," Mrs. Hall was quite shaken by the sentence and I wondered what promise had she made and to whom.

In my room I washed Mr. Howard's neckwear and hung it in my closet to dry then cut a clean piece of white cloth to wrap around my hand. The time I had to spare in my room I finished Vanity Fair using his neckwear as a bookmark and realized Mr. Howard was creating in me a delight for things not of my class; though it was too late. I found in my heart a trace of fondness for Mr. Howard, and I improved through his presence, his lifestyle, I wanted more books, more art, more music, more life. If mother knew I'd be put off soon enough, these were dangerous thoughts, thoughts which could only lead to disappointment but either way in the moment I was more than content against reason.

In the morning pleased to be awake and being done with the book I went to get the neckwear to hide it in my things though to my great dismay the master's neckwear was nowhere to be found. I went through every page in the book, through my closet, under the bed and it was like something or someone had taken it. For the rest of the day my eyes traced every inch of the room so that I would believe it was simply wind which had misplaced it refusing to give in to the woman of my nightmares.

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No part, character, names, plot, setting, conflict or resolution, point of view, theme or symbolism of this story may be replicated.

Copyright: All Rights Reserved to A. Sena Gomes.