Fic: 'Dalton Abbey' [Glee, Kurt/Blaine, 6/?]
Title: Dalton Abbey
Author: xxrachiefishxx
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU Period fic. It's the year 1910. Blaine Anderson, son of Lord and Lady Dalton, is expected to find a wife of similar rank and fortune to himself in the coming few years in the hope that he will marry her, produce a male heir and pass on the Dalton estate after his death. However, bored by his dull life of manners and rules and expectations; he really has no interest in finding a wife. Enter Kurt Hummel. Kurt is about to begin work as footman and valet at Dalton Abbey, where he will serve the illustrious Anderson family. Kurt's work as valet involves spending a great deal of time with Blaine, and Blaine can't help but notice how much more he enjoys spending time with Kurt than in the clutches of his family...
Spoilers: None
Notes: I know it's been FOREVER, but I've finally finished all of my assignments and can now focus on this! :) Huge, HUGE thanks to my amazing beta dazzlebug on this one... I was so out of fic writing and the time period when it came to writing this but as always she got me back into the mindset to write again AND fixed everything that wasn't right. Yay! :)
Chapter 06
Dear Kurt,
I am so pleased to hear that you have settled in well. The staff sound friendly, and I’m glad of that; you were never very good with strangers as a child, so it’s nice that you’ve been able to make friends.
I’m getting along fine. You don’t need to ask every time, Kurt! I’m an old man, I can take care of myself. The farm’s as good as ever it was. And your mangy little dog, Bark, is just fine, too. He’s finally stopped whining for your company at night and settled down. I don’t know why we ever let you keep that dog, your mother and me. Still, he’s an improvement on when you found him; less fleas, less bony. And sometimes when I look at him, I can swear he has just your eyes. It’s surprisingly nice to have him for company. But enough about us. Please stop worrying so much.
Your roommate, Sam, sounds like a nice fellow. That’s good. I imagined you having to share with somebody just awful. It happens, you know. Not everybody is as nice as you are. Perhaps you could tell me more about the house staff. They seem a surprisingly nice bunch. Miss Lopez, the typical lady’s maid, so it seems. And Hudson... oh dear! At least he sounds like you’d be able to count on him if you needed to, even if he’s not ‘all there’, as it were (perhaps not with secrets, mind). He must’ve liked that Miss Berry, though. Love’ll do crazy things to a man, Kurt. You might not have realized it yet, but mark my words: when it does, you’ll certainly know about it. You’ll cross boundaries to be with them. Why, your mother mightn’t have even noticed a sad old man like me if I hadn’t been twice as crazy as I usually am.
Speaking of which, the young Miss Pierce you spoke of, the girl you prepare rooms with of a morning. She sounds like a lovely young girl. I say, perhaps the two of you might find yourselves suited to one another?
I wish you all the best, Kurt. I miss you.
Father.
*
“You won’t laugh, will you, Kurt?”
“Why on Earth would I laugh, Sam?”
The blond man shrugged, sheepishly, avoiding Kurt’s eyes as he replied, “because I get... nervous.”
Kurt smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Man up.”
Sam scowled, squaring his shoulders and turning his head away from Kurt to hide a faint blush.
It was a sunny day, and Sam had been fortunate enough to have been asked to run their errands in the village on that day, as opposed to the day before as they usually did. The floor still glistened with the previous day’s rain, and despite the chill wind, both Sam and Kurt reveled in the warm sunshine that beat down upon their decidedly coatless backs. The sound of children playing games a short way in the distance carried over on the breeze, and the general atmosphere of the village was quiet and peaceful, save for the occasional motorcar driving by.
From the way Sam had eagerly volunteered himself for the village errands, Kurt suspected that it was one of his favorite things to do. Kurt - with a rare afternoon off after Blaine had been dressed appropriately and shipped off with his parents for dinner with the awful Lord and Lady McKinley - had offered to come and help his roommate perform his tasks. It afforded him the opportunity to see the village properly for the first time since arriving at Dalton, as well as shamelessly spy on Sam’s lady friend. Sam, whose agreement of ‘no secrets’ was severely tested when Kurt had suggested the idea, eventually came around and agreed to let him come; although the closer they got to the post office where her father worked, the more nervous Sam became.
“Wipe your palms,” Kurt teased as the two of them approached the building. “No lady likes to hold a man’s hand if he’s sweating.”
“I somehow doubt I’ll get close enough to hold her hand,” Sam hissed in reply, wiping his palms down his trouser legs anyway and pushing through the door and into the office.
They were met with a musty smell - a mix of rust and old paper, Kurt guessed - and the room was dark; only one window permitted light into the office foyer, which illuminated the dust motes that scurried across the room, disturbed at their entrance. The jingle of a little bell above the door alerted the office to their arrival, and something stirred in a room behind the counter, heading toward the two of them. Sam visibly tensed, his fingers gripping the delicate envelopes in his hand a little tighter than he ought to have. He breathed a soft sigh when a man greeted the two of them with a gentle smile, and Kurt almost chuckled. His father had been right - love made a man behave very strangely.
“Mr Wood,” Sam said, politely.
“Sam,” the man replied affectionately. Kurt raised his eyebrows at the familiar greeting, wondering whether Mr Wood knew Sam as a footman for the Dalton family who stopped by at the post office occasionally, or as the man he’d been before, when he’d worked in the village.
“How’s your father?” Mr Wood asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice, confirming that Mr Wood knew Sam as the latter.
“He’s well, sir. Thank you,” Sam replied. “And your own family?”
As if on cue, another figure stirred in the background and a young woman came to the fore, dressed in pink lace. Dark blonde ringlets surrounded her delicate features, and she smiled as soon as her eyes passed over Sam’s face.
“Mr Evans,” she greeted.
“Miss Wood,” Sam replied with a smile.
“Quite well, as you can see,” Mr Wood said in answer to Sam’s previous question. An age seemed to pass in silence before Mr Wood turned to face the girl. “Louisa, could you take this around the back?” Louisa did not respond, her eyes still trained on Sam, eyes seemingly sparkling. “Louisa.”
“Yes, father,” Louisa said, jumping to attention and taking the package from him. She turned, walking back the way she had come, turning one last time to smile again at Sam before she disappeared into the back of the office.
Sam made his payment and walked back out into the bright daylight of the village. They kept a steady pace and walked in silence for a time, before at length, Kurt broke it with a single sentence that lit up Sam’s features.
“She really loves you.”
*
“So how did the two of you meet?” Kurt asked as the two of them headed back toward Dalton Abbey, each clutching a brown paper bag of sundries.
Sam smiled to himself, eyes lighting up a little, as though he were remembering the moment. “She used to come into the shop, running errands for her father. Just once a week she came, always on a Monday. And she always had that smile on her face. I remember thinking ‘if I could marry a girl with a smile half as bright as that, I’d be happy’.
“I found out that she worked at the post office and I started going there, too, just to see her. Every time my family had a letter to send, I’d volunteer to go to the office for them.”
“Her father seems like a nice man,” Kurt told him.
“He is. He still asks after my family, despite our... situation.”
“Maybe,” Kurt said jovially, nudging Sam’s arm. “Maybe he’ll permit the two of you to marry.”
Sam scoffed. “I couldn’t afford to keep her. He’d never allow it.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Then by all means, continue sending the girl love letters. I’m sure she’ll thank you for them when she’s an old maid because she didn’t accept any of her other suitors while she was waiting for you.” Sam looked a little hurt, and Kurt smiled to show that he meant his remark to be playful. “I think you should at least ask her father. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Their slow and lazy walk lead them back to an equally sleepy house. The usual bustle of the kitchen was nowhere to be seen, Mrs Beiste concentrating only on preparing dinner for the staff. Kurt and Sam took their places in the staff dining room, where several other maids and servants were congregated already in the midst of their usual idle gossip. Lopez sat at the end of the table, a noticeable distance from everybody else, a far-off look in her eyes as though her mind were elsewhere. Even the women’s talk of dresses failed to coax her from her daydream, and Kurt wondered briefly if something had happened to her family back at home.
An hour later, the rest of the house staff joined them for dinner, taking their usual places. The atmosphere of the house was more relaxed than usual, what with the family being absent and no rush to attend to their needs. Even the conversation was louder than usual, the staff knowing as they did that they didn't need to be listening for the ringing of service bells. More gossip was traded, as well as the latest trends in fashion.
“I heard talk of a ball, though,” one of the maids exclaimed excitedly. Kurt’s interest piqued, he listened into the conversation.
“Where did you hear that?” another asked.
“Lord and Lady Dalton were talking of it a few days ago.”
“A real ball?” a third, younger maid chimed in.
“Ladies in gowns and gentlemen in suits.”
Another maid chimed in with a scoff. “Obviously Master Anderson was unsatisfied with Miss Berry, so Lady Dalton’s thinking up new ways to parade other young ladies before him.”
Lopez’s sharp eyes raised toward the maid who was talking.
“I suspect she’s worried that if he doesn’t marry and produce a male heir she’ll lose her blessed fortune and be reduced to the likes of us.”
“Don’t talk about Lady Dalton that way,” Lopez snapped, staring at the maid with eyes like daggers.
“Lopez, what’s wrong? Worried if Lady Dalton loses her place you won’t see a thread of silk again as long as you live? Worried you won’t be able to play dress up?”
Lopez’s knife crashed onto the table with a clatter. All other conversation around the room ceased entirely, every eye trained upon the lady’s maid.
“I suggest you should all treat your Lady with some respect. She’s trying her damned hardest to keep the Dalton estate, and keep it within the Anderson family. You all have food, a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in at night, though few of you deserve any such treatment.” She threw a look of contempt at the maids who had been talking previously, before continuing, “and if this house is ever inherited by some other family member, heaven knows what will become of any of you. Perhaps you ought to think about that before you say a bad word against Lady Dalton.”
Lopez stood up and walked quickly from the room, her dinner barely touched and the door slamming shut behind her.
The room’s usually cheery atmosphere fizzled into an uncomfortable silence in the wake of the lady’s maid’s outburst. Kurt and Sam exchanged nervous glances, not wanting to be the first to break the tension. Everybody, it seemed, had the same concern, and the room remained quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and the clink of cutlery against plates, until eventually dinner was over and the servants dispersed.
“What was that about?” Kurt asked Sam as they headed back toward the servant’s quarters upstairs. Sam shrugged, indicating that he had no idea, and a voice chimed in from behind them.
“Her mother died two years ago tomorrow,” Brittany explained. “She gets... touchy about it.”
Kurt’s mouth formed to make the shape of an ‘O’, understanding at once and hoping the subject would be dropped to save him feeling any more guilty, but Brittany continued.
“Too bad the rumors didn’t die with her.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sam said, eyebrows raised.
“Lopez’s mother claimed to be the widowed wife of a soldier, a man who died in the First Matabele War. From what I’ve heard, that’s a fabrication. Or at least a gross exaggeration of the truth.”
Kurt wanted to bit his tongue and walk away from the conversation, but his curiosity got the better of. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Where did you hear that?”
Brittany shrugged. “It’s common knowledge. Lopez’s mother moved into the Dalton village a little while after the war ended in eighteen-ninety-four. It’s always suspicious when a woman shows up alone with a baby. Lopez started working here when she was thirteen.”
“As young as that?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised. Kurt thought he must be thinking of his own younger siblings being forced into work at that age in order to support his own family.
“But how does that prove anything?” Kurt asked, still unable to ignore the story, thought doubting its credibility.
“Word of mouth. People gossip, Kurt. Her mother might’ve hidden it well enough that nobody as high up as the Anderson family caught wind of it, but you can’t keep a bastard child secret from the lower class. We breed scum.”
Somewhere behind Kurt a door slammed shut, making the three of them jump. Lopez stood staring at them, a scowl on her face that showed no trace of emotion save for contempt. Kurt’s mouth fell agape, and he began to feel his cheeks warm before Lopez turned on her heel and stormed away in the other direction.
“I think she may have overheard some of our conversation,” Sam said, the faintest, most unsure hint of humor in his voice as if he were attempting - and miserably failing - to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation. Kurt gritted his teeth, unable to say anything through his embarrassment. He made his way to his bedroom - leaving Sam and Brittany merely staring after him - and began penning a letter to his father.
*
Kurt awoke earlier than usual the following morning, and found himself entirely preoccupied by the events of the previous night. Blaine, along with Lord and Lady Dalton, had returned to the estate fairly late, and Blaine had surprised Kurt by politely declining his services for the evening and retiring to bed soon afterward. The normal morning routine resumed; the quiet of the previous night making the buzz of housemaids and footmen running around seem even more alive than usual. Kurt met Blaine in his room as he always did, though there was a significant difference in Blaine’s demeanor. He seemed distant - drained, almost - and Kurt sensed that he had no desire for their usual close conversation, so a comforting silence had encompassed them instead. Once Blaine was made presentable, Kurt had left the room with an optimistic, “have a good day, milord.” Blaine had simply smiled faintly, lost in his own thoughts, and Kurt excused himself to go about the rest of his morning duties.
A moment spare after breakfast, Kurt made his way down into one of the gardens of the abbey. He waved to Abrams as he went, the stable boy smiling at him in return. It occurred to Kurt that he hadn’t really spoken to the stable boy; he was more often outside with the horses than with the staff indoors. Blaine’s horse, coat shining brightly, stood in the stables where Kurt assumed he would remain all day, since Blaine had not requested his riding outfit. Given the bright blue skies and the glorious heat of the sun, Kurt couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that there was something very obviously upsetting Blaine.
Eventually Kurt stumbled upon what he was looking for. A field of soft orange lilies, curling around the cool green grass, just opening out their petals in bloom. Kurt surveyed his surroundings and, on confirmation that he was far enough out in the gardens for nobody to see him, plucked a single lily from the grass. With one more furtive glance around, he hid it under a handkerchief, before heading back toward the house.
It took him a few minutes, but eventually he found Lopez sitting quietly at a table, carefully stitching together what looked like a torn underskirt. She didn’t look up as he entered the room, although she exhaled loudly enough to indicate that she knew he was there.
“I’m not interested in your excuses. Don’t you have work to do?” she asked scathingly.
Kurt pulled the lily from underneath the handkerchief and walked closer to the lady’s maid, placing it on the table beside her, careful not to let the flower stain the skirt. Lopez hesitated for a second, her body stiffening, before she eventually looked up at Kurt.
“I hope this isn’t some kind of proposal of courtship, Hummel, because your rank in this household alone is low enough for me to reject you on principle, and I certainly don’t need any kind of pity from a footman.”
Kurt smiled a little, suppressing a chuckle. He thought he saw a playful smirk pass across Lopez’s face for a fraction of a moment.
“No, Miss. It’s an apology.”
The lady’s maid shifted in her seat. “What for?” she snapped.
“For gossiping. It wasn’t our place to-”
“You don’t believe my mother was widowed.”
“It’s not-”
“You don’t think I deserve to be here-”
“No-”
“-because you think I’m the bastard child of some runaway soldier.”
A horrible silence crept into the room for a few moments, Lopez scowling at Kurt.
“I’d never presume anything, Miss Lopez, and I’d never tell anybody something that wasn’t my business to tell,” Kurt replied, voice raised a little in defense. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself of his status, he lowered his tone. “I’m not going to judge you for your background, whatever it might be. I’d certainly never say you didn’t deserve a place here.”
Lopez stared at him, her gaze a little softer. “I think you’re too good to be a footman. Too wholesome,” she said. “I’ve never known a footman who didn’t enjoy a bit of gossip; it’s not just the maids, you know.”
Kurt smiled. “You forget, I’m also a valet. You know as well as I do how important it is to keep their secrets.”
The lady’s maid nodded. She remained silent for a while, her fingers caressing the soft edges of the lily petals, before she breathed a heavy, resolute sigh. “Have you ever kept a secret so big that it left you physically tired? I swore never to tell a soul. My mother, she... she’d be so disappointed in me for telling you, but I...”
“Please don’t do something you’re not comfortable with. You might live to regret it.”
“No, I want you to know. I need somebody to know,” she said. “Only you, you understand? This doesn’t leave this room.” Kurt nodded his agreement, and there were a few more moments of silence, before Lopez took a single, shaky breath.
“I am what they say I am,” she began. “Illegitimate, that is. My mother fell in love with a soldier when she was younger. He told her that he would marry her as soon as he came home after the war, and she believed him. She fell pregnant with me, he went off to fight, and she never saw him again. My mother, for the longest time, was distraught when she heard news that the war had ended but she hadn’t seen him. She assumed him to be dead. It wasn’t until people started talking that she realised he mightn’t have had any intention of coming back at all.
“Hummel, you have to understand that my mother wasn’t like that. She would never have - never have - if she didn’t really and truly believe that he’d come back to her.”
Kurt nodded, and Lopez smiled sadly.
“She moved us both, kept up the story that she’d been widowed, and when I was old enough I came here to work. End of story.”
“I’m sorry about your mother’s death. I understand what you’re going through.”
The girl’s eyes sparkled a little, and Kurt could see in that moment what he couldn’t before; how incredibly young she looked. He realised that the lady’s maid had probably grown up years before her time; had had to, to bear the burden of a secret for which many others would judge her. Kurt thought she might be about to cry, but she seemed to control herself, shaking her head and plastering on her usual smirk.
“It’s all right. What’s the point in being a lady’s maid if she isn’t like a second mother?” she said. Kurt smiled; it was apparent all at once why Lopez was so fiercely loyal to Lady Dalton.
“I’ll see you later, Lopez,” Kurt said with a smile, walking toward the door.
“You can-” she paused, apparently choking on the generosity of the words. “You can call me Santana, if you want to. Only you. Nobody else. And if you breathe a word about any of this to anybody, I swear-”
“Santana,” Kurt interrupted. “Your secret is safe with me. You owe me one, mind!”
As Kurt left the room, he could swear he heard Santana chuckle a little in reply.
*
Father,
Bark is a fantastic dog. Don’t even attempt to deny it. And you certainly seem to have found him a suitable replacement to me, so wherein lies the problem? (I’m joking, of course).
You’re right. I suppose I should count myself lucky to be sharing with ‘the nice one’. Sam himself seems quite lost in love at the moment. That’s a footman and a chauffeur we’ve lost... I shall have to endeavor not to have the same fate befall me! On that note: Brittany and I will most certainly not be courting any time soon. Please never mention it again.
That being said, the Anderson family do have quite a team of house staff. Some of them exceedingly loyal. Lopez... not quite the typical lady’s maid it turns out, and devoted to her lady more fiercely than, I daresay, any other lady’s maid in existence. And yet I am sworn to secrecy on the topic! So that will be the last you hear of Miss Lopez.
Tell me things are okay with you. What are you getting up to? You know how I worry.
Love,
Kurt.
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Author: xxrachiefishxx
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU Period fic. It's the year 1910. Blaine Anderson, son of Lord and Lady Dalton, is expected to find a wife of similar rank and fortune to himself in the coming few years in the hope that he will marry her, produce a male heir and pass on the Dalton estate after his death. However, bored by his dull life of manners and rules and expectations; he really has no interest in finding a wife. Enter Kurt Hummel. Kurt is about to begin work as footman and valet at Dalton Abbey, where he will serve the illustrious Anderson family. Kurt's work as valet involves spending a great deal of time with Blaine, and Blaine can't help but notice how much more he enjoys spending time with Kurt than in the clutches of his family...
Spoilers: None
Notes: I know it's been FOREVER, but I've finally finished all of my assignments and can now focus on this! :) Huge, HUGE thanks to my amazing beta dazzlebug on this one... I was so out of fic writing and the time period when it came to writing this but as always she got me back into the mindset to write again AND fixed everything that wasn't right. Yay! :)
Chapter 06
Dear Kurt,
I am so pleased to hear that you have settled in well. The staff sound friendly, and I’m glad of that; you were never very good with strangers as a child, so it’s nice that you’ve been able to make friends.
I’m getting along fine. You don’t need to ask every time, Kurt! I’m an old man, I can take care of myself. The farm’s as good as ever it was. And your mangy little dog, Bark, is just fine, too. He’s finally stopped whining for your company at night and settled down. I don’t know why we ever let you keep that dog, your mother and me. Still, he’s an improvement on when you found him; less fleas, less bony. And sometimes when I look at him, I can swear he has just your eyes. It’s surprisingly nice to have him for company. But enough about us. Please stop worrying so much.
Your roommate, Sam, sounds like a nice fellow. That’s good. I imagined you having to share with somebody just awful. It happens, you know. Not everybody is as nice as you are. Perhaps you could tell me more about the house staff. They seem a surprisingly nice bunch. Miss Lopez, the typical lady’s maid, so it seems. And Hudson... oh dear! At least he sounds like you’d be able to count on him if you needed to, even if he’s not ‘all there’, as it were (perhaps not with secrets, mind). He must’ve liked that Miss Berry, though. Love’ll do crazy things to a man, Kurt. You might not have realized it yet, but mark my words: when it does, you’ll certainly know about it. You’ll cross boundaries to be with them. Why, your mother mightn’t have even noticed a sad old man like me if I hadn’t been twice as crazy as I usually am.
Speaking of which, the young Miss Pierce you spoke of, the girl you prepare rooms with of a morning. She sounds like a lovely young girl. I say, perhaps the two of you might find yourselves suited to one another?
I wish you all the best, Kurt. I miss you.
Father.
*
“You won’t laugh, will you, Kurt?”
“Why on Earth would I laugh, Sam?”
The blond man shrugged, sheepishly, avoiding Kurt’s eyes as he replied, “because I get... nervous.”
Kurt smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Man up.”
Sam scowled, squaring his shoulders and turning his head away from Kurt to hide a faint blush.
It was a sunny day, and Sam had been fortunate enough to have been asked to run their errands in the village on that day, as opposed to the day before as they usually did. The floor still glistened with the previous day’s rain, and despite the chill wind, both Sam and Kurt reveled in the warm sunshine that beat down upon their decidedly coatless backs. The sound of children playing games a short way in the distance carried over on the breeze, and the general atmosphere of the village was quiet and peaceful, save for the occasional motorcar driving by.
From the way Sam had eagerly volunteered himself for the village errands, Kurt suspected that it was one of his favorite things to do. Kurt - with a rare afternoon off after Blaine had been dressed appropriately and shipped off with his parents for dinner with the awful Lord and Lady McKinley - had offered to come and help his roommate perform his tasks. It afforded him the opportunity to see the village properly for the first time since arriving at Dalton, as well as shamelessly spy on Sam’s lady friend. Sam, whose agreement of ‘no secrets’ was severely tested when Kurt had suggested the idea, eventually came around and agreed to let him come; although the closer they got to the post office where her father worked, the more nervous Sam became.
“Wipe your palms,” Kurt teased as the two of them approached the building. “No lady likes to hold a man’s hand if he’s sweating.”
“I somehow doubt I’ll get close enough to hold her hand,” Sam hissed in reply, wiping his palms down his trouser legs anyway and pushing through the door and into the office.
They were met with a musty smell - a mix of rust and old paper, Kurt guessed - and the room was dark; only one window permitted light into the office foyer, which illuminated the dust motes that scurried across the room, disturbed at their entrance. The jingle of a little bell above the door alerted the office to their arrival, and something stirred in a room behind the counter, heading toward the two of them. Sam visibly tensed, his fingers gripping the delicate envelopes in his hand a little tighter than he ought to have. He breathed a soft sigh when a man greeted the two of them with a gentle smile, and Kurt almost chuckled. His father had been right - love made a man behave very strangely.
“Mr Wood,” Sam said, politely.
“Sam,” the man replied affectionately. Kurt raised his eyebrows at the familiar greeting, wondering whether Mr Wood knew Sam as a footman for the Dalton family who stopped by at the post office occasionally, or as the man he’d been before, when he’d worked in the village.
“How’s your father?” Mr Wood asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice, confirming that Mr Wood knew Sam as the latter.
“He’s well, sir. Thank you,” Sam replied. “And your own family?”
As if on cue, another figure stirred in the background and a young woman came to the fore, dressed in pink lace. Dark blonde ringlets surrounded her delicate features, and she smiled as soon as her eyes passed over Sam’s face.
“Mr Evans,” she greeted.
“Miss Wood,” Sam replied with a smile.
“Quite well, as you can see,” Mr Wood said in answer to Sam’s previous question. An age seemed to pass in silence before Mr Wood turned to face the girl. “Louisa, could you take this around the back?” Louisa did not respond, her eyes still trained on Sam, eyes seemingly sparkling. “Louisa.”
“Yes, father,” Louisa said, jumping to attention and taking the package from him. She turned, walking back the way she had come, turning one last time to smile again at Sam before she disappeared into the back of the office.
Sam made his payment and walked back out into the bright daylight of the village. They kept a steady pace and walked in silence for a time, before at length, Kurt broke it with a single sentence that lit up Sam’s features.
“She really loves you.”
*
“So how did the two of you meet?” Kurt asked as the two of them headed back toward Dalton Abbey, each clutching a brown paper bag of sundries.
Sam smiled to himself, eyes lighting up a little, as though he were remembering the moment. “She used to come into the shop, running errands for her father. Just once a week she came, always on a Monday. And she always had that smile on her face. I remember thinking ‘if I could marry a girl with a smile half as bright as that, I’d be happy’.
“I found out that she worked at the post office and I started going there, too, just to see her. Every time my family had a letter to send, I’d volunteer to go to the office for them.”
“Her father seems like a nice man,” Kurt told him.
“He is. He still asks after my family, despite our... situation.”
“Maybe,” Kurt said jovially, nudging Sam’s arm. “Maybe he’ll permit the two of you to marry.”
Sam scoffed. “I couldn’t afford to keep her. He’d never allow it.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Then by all means, continue sending the girl love letters. I’m sure she’ll thank you for them when she’s an old maid because she didn’t accept any of her other suitors while she was waiting for you.” Sam looked a little hurt, and Kurt smiled to show that he meant his remark to be playful. “I think you should at least ask her father. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Their slow and lazy walk lead them back to an equally sleepy house. The usual bustle of the kitchen was nowhere to be seen, Mrs Beiste concentrating only on preparing dinner for the staff. Kurt and Sam took their places in the staff dining room, where several other maids and servants were congregated already in the midst of their usual idle gossip. Lopez sat at the end of the table, a noticeable distance from everybody else, a far-off look in her eyes as though her mind were elsewhere. Even the women’s talk of dresses failed to coax her from her daydream, and Kurt wondered briefly if something had happened to her family back at home.
An hour later, the rest of the house staff joined them for dinner, taking their usual places. The atmosphere of the house was more relaxed than usual, what with the family being absent and no rush to attend to their needs. Even the conversation was louder than usual, the staff knowing as they did that they didn't need to be listening for the ringing of service bells. More gossip was traded, as well as the latest trends in fashion.
“I heard talk of a ball, though,” one of the maids exclaimed excitedly. Kurt’s interest piqued, he listened into the conversation.
“Where did you hear that?” another asked.
“Lord and Lady Dalton were talking of it a few days ago.”
“A real ball?” a third, younger maid chimed in.
“Ladies in gowns and gentlemen in suits.”
Another maid chimed in with a scoff. “Obviously Master Anderson was unsatisfied with Miss Berry, so Lady Dalton’s thinking up new ways to parade other young ladies before him.”
Lopez’s sharp eyes raised toward the maid who was talking.
“I suspect she’s worried that if he doesn’t marry and produce a male heir she’ll lose her blessed fortune and be reduced to the likes of us.”
“Don’t talk about Lady Dalton that way,” Lopez snapped, staring at the maid with eyes like daggers.
“Lopez, what’s wrong? Worried if Lady Dalton loses her place you won’t see a thread of silk again as long as you live? Worried you won’t be able to play dress up?”
Lopez’s knife crashed onto the table with a clatter. All other conversation around the room ceased entirely, every eye trained upon the lady’s maid.
“I suggest you should all treat your Lady with some respect. She’s trying her damned hardest to keep the Dalton estate, and keep it within the Anderson family. You all have food, a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in at night, though few of you deserve any such treatment.” She threw a look of contempt at the maids who had been talking previously, before continuing, “and if this house is ever inherited by some other family member, heaven knows what will become of any of you. Perhaps you ought to think about that before you say a bad word against Lady Dalton.”
Lopez stood up and walked quickly from the room, her dinner barely touched and the door slamming shut behind her.
The room’s usually cheery atmosphere fizzled into an uncomfortable silence in the wake of the lady’s maid’s outburst. Kurt and Sam exchanged nervous glances, not wanting to be the first to break the tension. Everybody, it seemed, had the same concern, and the room remained quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and the clink of cutlery against plates, until eventually dinner was over and the servants dispersed.
“What was that about?” Kurt asked Sam as they headed back toward the servant’s quarters upstairs. Sam shrugged, indicating that he had no idea, and a voice chimed in from behind them.
“Her mother died two years ago tomorrow,” Brittany explained. “She gets... touchy about it.”
Kurt’s mouth formed to make the shape of an ‘O’, understanding at once and hoping the subject would be dropped to save him feeling any more guilty, but Brittany continued.
“Too bad the rumors didn’t die with her.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sam said, eyebrows raised.
“Lopez’s mother claimed to be the widowed wife of a soldier, a man who died in the First Matabele War. From what I’ve heard, that’s a fabrication. Or at least a gross exaggeration of the truth.”
Kurt wanted to bit his tongue and walk away from the conversation, but his curiosity got the better of. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Where did you hear that?”
Brittany shrugged. “It’s common knowledge. Lopez’s mother moved into the Dalton village a little while after the war ended in eighteen-ninety-four. It’s always suspicious when a woman shows up alone with a baby. Lopez started working here when she was thirteen.”
“As young as that?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised. Kurt thought he must be thinking of his own younger siblings being forced into work at that age in order to support his own family.
“But how does that prove anything?” Kurt asked, still unable to ignore the story, thought doubting its credibility.
“Word of mouth. People gossip, Kurt. Her mother might’ve hidden it well enough that nobody as high up as the Anderson family caught wind of it, but you can’t keep a bastard child secret from the lower class. We breed scum.”
Somewhere behind Kurt a door slammed shut, making the three of them jump. Lopez stood staring at them, a scowl on her face that showed no trace of emotion save for contempt. Kurt’s mouth fell agape, and he began to feel his cheeks warm before Lopez turned on her heel and stormed away in the other direction.
“I think she may have overheard some of our conversation,” Sam said, the faintest, most unsure hint of humor in his voice as if he were attempting - and miserably failing - to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation. Kurt gritted his teeth, unable to say anything through his embarrassment. He made his way to his bedroom - leaving Sam and Brittany merely staring after him - and began penning a letter to his father.
*
Kurt awoke earlier than usual the following morning, and found himself entirely preoccupied by the events of the previous night. Blaine, along with Lord and Lady Dalton, had returned to the estate fairly late, and Blaine had surprised Kurt by politely declining his services for the evening and retiring to bed soon afterward. The normal morning routine resumed; the quiet of the previous night making the buzz of housemaids and footmen running around seem even more alive than usual. Kurt met Blaine in his room as he always did, though there was a significant difference in Blaine’s demeanor. He seemed distant - drained, almost - and Kurt sensed that he had no desire for their usual close conversation, so a comforting silence had encompassed them instead. Once Blaine was made presentable, Kurt had left the room with an optimistic, “have a good day, milord.” Blaine had simply smiled faintly, lost in his own thoughts, and Kurt excused himself to go about the rest of his morning duties.
A moment spare after breakfast, Kurt made his way down into one of the gardens of the abbey. He waved to Abrams as he went, the stable boy smiling at him in return. It occurred to Kurt that he hadn’t really spoken to the stable boy; he was more often outside with the horses than with the staff indoors. Blaine’s horse, coat shining brightly, stood in the stables where Kurt assumed he would remain all day, since Blaine had not requested his riding outfit. Given the bright blue skies and the glorious heat of the sun, Kurt couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that there was something very obviously upsetting Blaine.
Eventually Kurt stumbled upon what he was looking for. A field of soft orange lilies, curling around the cool green grass, just opening out their petals in bloom. Kurt surveyed his surroundings and, on confirmation that he was far enough out in the gardens for nobody to see him, plucked a single lily from the grass. With one more furtive glance around, he hid it under a handkerchief, before heading back toward the house.
It took him a few minutes, but eventually he found Lopez sitting quietly at a table, carefully stitching together what looked like a torn underskirt. She didn’t look up as he entered the room, although she exhaled loudly enough to indicate that she knew he was there.
“I’m not interested in your excuses. Don’t you have work to do?” she asked scathingly.
Kurt pulled the lily from underneath the handkerchief and walked closer to the lady’s maid, placing it on the table beside her, careful not to let the flower stain the skirt. Lopez hesitated for a second, her body stiffening, before she eventually looked up at Kurt.
“I hope this isn’t some kind of proposal of courtship, Hummel, because your rank in this household alone is low enough for me to reject you on principle, and I certainly don’t need any kind of pity from a footman.”
Kurt smiled a little, suppressing a chuckle. He thought he saw a playful smirk pass across Lopez’s face for a fraction of a moment.
“No, Miss. It’s an apology.”
The lady’s maid shifted in her seat. “What for?” she snapped.
“For gossiping. It wasn’t our place to-”
“You don’t believe my mother was widowed.”
“It’s not-”
“You don’t think I deserve to be here-”
“No-”
“-because you think I’m the bastard child of some runaway soldier.”
A horrible silence crept into the room for a few moments, Lopez scowling at Kurt.
“I’d never presume anything, Miss Lopez, and I’d never tell anybody something that wasn’t my business to tell,” Kurt replied, voice raised a little in defense. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself of his status, he lowered his tone. “I’m not going to judge you for your background, whatever it might be. I’d certainly never say you didn’t deserve a place here.”
Lopez stared at him, her gaze a little softer. “I think you’re too good to be a footman. Too wholesome,” she said. “I’ve never known a footman who didn’t enjoy a bit of gossip; it’s not just the maids, you know.”
Kurt smiled. “You forget, I’m also a valet. You know as well as I do how important it is to keep their secrets.”
The lady’s maid nodded. She remained silent for a while, her fingers caressing the soft edges of the lily petals, before she breathed a heavy, resolute sigh. “Have you ever kept a secret so big that it left you physically tired? I swore never to tell a soul. My mother, she... she’d be so disappointed in me for telling you, but I...”
“Please don’t do something you’re not comfortable with. You might live to regret it.”
“No, I want you to know. I need somebody to know,” she said. “Only you, you understand? This doesn’t leave this room.” Kurt nodded his agreement, and there were a few more moments of silence, before Lopez took a single, shaky breath.
“I am what they say I am,” she began. “Illegitimate, that is. My mother fell in love with a soldier when she was younger. He told her that he would marry her as soon as he came home after the war, and she believed him. She fell pregnant with me, he went off to fight, and she never saw him again. My mother, for the longest time, was distraught when she heard news that the war had ended but she hadn’t seen him. She assumed him to be dead. It wasn’t until people started talking that she realised he mightn’t have had any intention of coming back at all.
“Hummel, you have to understand that my mother wasn’t like that. She would never have - never have - if she didn’t really and truly believe that he’d come back to her.”
Kurt nodded, and Lopez smiled sadly.
“She moved us both, kept up the story that she’d been widowed, and when I was old enough I came here to work. End of story.”
“I’m sorry about your mother’s death. I understand what you’re going through.”
The girl’s eyes sparkled a little, and Kurt could see in that moment what he couldn’t before; how incredibly young she looked. He realised that the lady’s maid had probably grown up years before her time; had had to, to bear the burden of a secret for which many others would judge her. Kurt thought she might be about to cry, but she seemed to control herself, shaking her head and plastering on her usual smirk.
“It’s all right. What’s the point in being a lady’s maid if she isn’t like a second mother?” she said. Kurt smiled; it was apparent all at once why Lopez was so fiercely loyal to Lady Dalton.
“I’ll see you later, Lopez,” Kurt said with a smile, walking toward the door.
“You can-” she paused, apparently choking on the generosity of the words. “You can call me Santana, if you want to. Only you. Nobody else. And if you breathe a word about any of this to anybody, I swear-”
“Santana,” Kurt interrupted. “Your secret is safe with me. You owe me one, mind!”
As Kurt left the room, he could swear he heard Santana chuckle a little in reply.
*
Father,
Bark is a fantastic dog. Don’t even attempt to deny it. And you certainly seem to have found him a suitable replacement to me, so wherein lies the problem? (I’m joking, of course).
You’re right. I suppose I should count myself lucky to be sharing with ‘the nice one’. Sam himself seems quite lost in love at the moment. That’s a footman and a chauffeur we’ve lost... I shall have to endeavor not to have the same fate befall me! On that note: Brittany and I will most certainly not be courting any time soon. Please never mention it again.
That being said, the Anderson family do have quite a team of house staff. Some of them exceedingly loyal. Lopez... not quite the typical lady’s maid it turns out, and devoted to her lady more fiercely than, I daresay, any other lady’s maid in existence. And yet I am sworn to secrecy on the topic! So that will be the last you hear of Miss Lopez.
Tell me things are okay with you. What are you getting up to? You know how I worry.
Love,
Kurt.
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