Heart of the Beholder

3

brIDGETTE DROPPED A BUCKET OF wet clothes and a bucket of fresh water on the ground, then wiped the sweat off her brow. The walk to the communal well only took ten minutes, but after she drew several buckets of water, scrubbed and rinsed the clothes, then made the trip back with a load much heavier than before, her body was tired. She took a few deep breaths, then picked up the buckets and walked as fast as she could. The morning sun warmed the top of her head, making the trek even more tiresome.

“Almost there, Bridgette,” she said out loud to herself.

She turned around the bend in the path, and her little cottage came into view. She didn’t let herself stop until she set the bucket of water by the back door and put the bucket of wet clothes by the line she had tied between two trees. Bridgette reached her hands up and groaned as she stretched. She had decided the moment she had woken up that it was going to be a good day. She would find a way to get the money she needed. It would take hard work, but it would happen and all would be made right.

Bridgette pulled some clothespins out of her apron pocket and started to hang up the wet clothes. She remembered a time when her family was wealthy enough to pay someone else to do their laundry. Her father had been able to hire a lot of people to take care of the work on their land back in Willow Haven. Life had been simple and lovely until things changed, and it wasn’t simple or lovely anymore. And now the big house that she had grown up in was probably only a pile of ash and rubble. She lifted a stocking to hang it on the line and saw the pink scar on the back of her right hand that curved from her pinky to her thumb. It was a good reminder that it was best to forget and move on.

Bridgette shook the thoughts out of her head and looked at Birdie’s cottage. Birdie was standing in the back door, throwing feed to a group of birds at her feet. Bridgette smiled. Birdie was a peculiar sort, but Bridgette appreciated her quirkiness. Birdie was older than Bridgette, though not quite as old as Bridgette’s mother, Clara. Although average height, Birdie had a large build. She kept her dark, curly hair short and always wore the same oversized brown cardigan. Her other clothes were dark and plain, and looked comfortable. Birdie was carefree. She didn’t care what others thought and did what she loved. Most thought her mind wasn’t all there, but Bridgette knew that the woman was wiser than anyone she had ever met.

Bridgette finished the laundry by hanging her two light blue work dresses on the line. She would have to take those back to Hellen. Bridgette sighed heavily as she picked up the bucket and dumped the remaining water out. After leaving it by her back door, she walked over to Birdie, who was now standing in the middle of all the birds. Some sat on her head and shoulders, tweeting and cooing. Birdie didn’t attract just one type of bird, she attracted them all: from finches and sparrows to blue jays and robins. Bridgette couldn’t believe how many different kinds there were, but Birdie knew all the names and wouldn’t waste an opportunity to teach Bridgette.

“Do the birds have any advice for my quest today, Birdie?” Bridgette asked.

“Be brave w-when others are afraid,” Birdie said without missing a beat. Bridgette nodded. That could be useful, she supposed. “Do not fall on your f-face. Look up, and you will know you have f-found it.”

“Found what?” Bridgette asked, confused.

“W-what you are looking for,” Birdie said, as if it were obvious.

“Okay, I will try and remember to look up,” Bridgette said. “I just need to make breakfast, and then I’ll be off. Any requests?”

Birdie beamed and said, “Porridge?”

Bridgette smiled as if she didn’t have a clue what she would ask for. “Oh, good, I think we have just that.” The truth was they didn’t have much besides porridge until Bridgette could make a trip to the market. But if they didn’t have money, they couldn’t buy much more than porridge. Bridgette often thanked the Fates that Birdie favored porridge.

When Bridgette was done making the porridge, she divided it into three bowls. Birdie joined her at her small table in her small kitchen, and they ate in comfortable silence. As soon as they were done, Bridgette gathered the dishes and washed them in the water basin with some of the freshwater she had fetched earlier. Once everything was clean and put away, Birdie took the third bowl of watered-down porridge into the bedroom. Bridgette opened the small closet and took out her nicest dress that was once a happy yellow, but now looked like sun-stained white. She personally owned only three dresses, two of which were faded brown and barely hanging on to life. Her not-so-yellow dress would have to do. She wanted to look her best when looking for work. After she changed, she looked at her reflection in the window, then brushed the knots out of her light brown hair with her fingers and twisted it into a braid down her back. She looked at herself one more time and forced a smile. It would have to do.

Bridgette looked in the bedroom. Birdie on the stool next to the bed and carefully fed Clara the porridge. Clara was propped up a few inches and staring blankly at the ceiling. At least she was swallowing the food. Bridgette couldn’t imagine doing everything on her own. She was lucky to have found Birdie when she did, wandering the streets of Cold Stone Hollow. Shortly after they met, they’d established an unspoken agreement. Birdie would look after Clara while Bridgette worked, got the food, paid the taxes, and did most of the chores. It was more than Bridgette deserved, and she didn’t let a day go by without consciously being grateful for it.

“Okay, ladies. I am off to fix this mess I made. I will try and be back before lunch so we can eat together.” Bridgette moved toward the door, then stopped. “Make sure she drinks more water today, Birdie. I don’t want her to get dehydrated. And remember the tonic.”

“M-make yourself thirsty, Bridgeet,” Birdie said as a farewell.

Bridgette blinked at the strange phrase. “Thank you, Birdie. I’ll be back later.”

The communal well was the first place on her list to go. It was one of the few places in town where she would cross paths with many people at once. Bridgette winced. Her shoes were still a little damp from her mishap the day before and had given her a blister on her little toe. Just another thing to worry about later. For now, she just hoped she wouldn’t have to walk too much to find what she needed. That thought reminded her of what Birdie said, so she looked up. Nothing. Just the blue morning sky with a few clouds. It was beautiful, but Bridgette wasn’t sure what she was supposed to see to know she had found what she was looking for.

Bridgette continued walking. She needed to decide what she was looking for. She wouldn’t just take anything that was available. The last thing she wanted to do was settle for something that paid less than what she got at The Golden Pear. Hellen had paid her one silver piece a day, which was good, but tight. If the taxes had doubled, that meant each living soul had to pay one gold piece every month. Ten silver pieces were equal to a gold piece. She had to find something that gave her more than three gold pieces a month. Bridgette had barely made two gold pieces worth of wages a month, so she would need to find something that paid at least double.

The well came into view, and Bridgette smiled. Unlike earlier, when she was here washing her own laundry in solitude, the area around the well was crowded. Some scrubbed their laundry in buckets on washboards, some stood by their wagons while their animals drank, others waited in line to fill up their own buckets. Bridgette usually came earlier in the day to avoid the crowds and the heat. Her heart skipped a beat as she approached the closest woman. “Um, excuse me,” she said to a woman about her mother’s age who was rubbing a bar of soap into a stained cloth. The woman didn’t look up.

“What do ya want?” she grumbled.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if you or whoever you work for might be looking to hire?” Bridgette managed in her nicest voice, without showing her nerves.

The woman looked up and squinted. She had a missing tooth and a large mole on her upper lip. Bridgette didn’t think she had ever seen the woman before. “Who’s askin’?”

Bridgette knelt down to the woman’s level and said, “My name is Bridgette Meadowbrooke. I am in need of work.”

“Bridgette, you say?” She spat on the ground and then looked Bridgette up and down. “Can you cook?”

“Yes.”

“Clean?”

“Yes,” Bridgette said enthusiastically.

“How much ya askin’ for?”

“One gold piece a week,” Bridgette said hesitantly.

“Ha!” the woman threw her head back with a full belly laugh. “Ya think I get that? My lord would spit on ya for that!”

The group waiting by the well looked over at them. Bridgette stood and brushed her dress off. “I am sorry to have wasted your time,” she said quickly, as she tried to control the blush that crept up her neck. “More subtle approach next time, Bridgette,” she told herself as she walked over to the well. They were already watching her; she might as well greet them. It was a group of women all from different households or employers who were all a bit older than Bridgette. She was familiar with all of their faces. “Good morning, ladies,” Bridgette said with a smile. “I was wondering if you know of anyone hiring?”

“Aren’t you the girl that worked for Hellen?” one of them said with a pinched expression. Her name was Oretta.

“Yes, I am.” Bridgette swallowed.

“I can’t believe you would throw a tantrum while customers were enjoying their lunch,” Martha, the queen of gossip, said. She rolled her eyes as she tucked her red curls into a bun.

“I heard Jana’s boy, Charles, got a concussion and lost vision in his right eye,” Oretta said.

“And you gave the lord a towel you used to clean your feet!” said Fortuna, a woman who held herself as if she were nobility, and not a maid.

“That is not exactly what happened,” Bridgette cut in.

“And you let that diseased bird woman in and ruin everyone's food,” Martha said, putting a hand to her forehead as if she might faint.

Bridgette clenched her fists. She should have known word would have spread through town faster than fire in a wheat field. How convenient they were all standing right in front of a well; they all seemed to need a little swim.

It's not worth it, Bridgette. Just leave, she thought to herself.

She had to bite her tongue and turn away without a word. There was no point in arguing with them. She picked her next target and walked away from the well. As she left, she heard one of them say, “Her parents must have abandoned or neglected her. Why else would she be in such a state? No manners, no respect.”

“Just keep walking, Bridgette,” she murmured to herself.

A nice-looking couple stood by a small horse as it drank from a bucket. The man was checking the harness that kept his cart attached to the horse. The woman smiled sympathetically. “They will find something else to gossip about tomorrow,” the woman said.

“Maybe, but with my luck, it will also be about me,” Bridgette said with a shrug.

“You are looking for work?” the woman asked.

“Yes, I am in need of something that will give me at least one gold piece a week.”

“You won’t find that out here,” the man said, patting the horse on the neck. “You might have better luck up north with the wealthier families. I don’t think gossip spreads as fast up there, so you might have a chance.” He smiled so Bridgette knew he meant it in jest, but her heart sank, already dreading the idea of walking more with her blister.

“Thank you for the advice. Good day,” she said, and left.

There was a road that circled up around the Old Pear Orchard where many of the wealthier people had property. It was more walking than she wanted to do, but the man had a point. She would have better luck on the wealthier side of town. With a sigh, she started her trek, her blister reminding her of its presence with every step.

Within the hour, she reached the first house that was triple the size of her cottage and Birdie’s cottage put together. She knocked on the door and talked to the maid that answered. She told Bridgette there were no positions available. It was not what she wanted to hear, but it was a relief that the maid didn’t seem to know who she was. Bridgette thanked her and continued on.

Each house grew in size, as did the distance between them. The next three houses were exquisite and well cared for, but not in need of a new employee. They were either looking for someone who was not her, or they had everything they needed already. Or perhaps they actually knew who she was but lied to get her to go away. By the time Bridgette reached the next house, she was sweaty and exhausted. The house was magnificent and charming with a large yard in front of it. Hunting dogs barked and played with children in the tall grass. This wouldn’t be so bad, even with the far walk. The house was so large, Bridgette expected the family could afford to pay her well.

“This is what I am looking for,” she said out loud as she walked toward the house on the stone path. Feeling hopeful, Bridgette looked up and smiled. “Okay, Birdie, where is my sign?” She kept walking as she looked up, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Blue sky, fluffy clouds, large tre— squish. “Oh, no no no,” she groaned. Bridgette didn’t even have to look down to know what she stepped in—the smell gave it away. She stepped back and pulled her ankle boot out of the sticky, stinky, and enormous pile of dog excrement. “This was not the sign I was looking for,” Bridgette complained loudly.

“Who are you talking to?” a familiar voice asked.

“And whatever is left of my social standing will now die a sad death,” she muttered to herself.

“Have you been spending too much time with Batty Birdie?” Jack asked in a cruel, teasing voice. Bridgette turned around to face him. He wasn’t alone. “Tell me, did you feel bad for the old bird and take her in, or did you two meet at the nuthouse?” He smiled, and his friends chuckled. Bridgette shifted on her feet. The burning desire to grab a handful of dung, throw it at his perfect face, and smear it across his expensive clothes was almost too much for Bridgette to ignore.

“Jack. Boys,” she said in greeting. They looked at her like she was a fish stuck in a tree, not sure how she got there or what she might do next. She smoothed out her dress and tried not to bring attention to her dirty boot. “What are you doing here?”

“This,” Jack said, with a dramatic gesture toward the property, “is my family's estate. What are you doing here?”

“I...” Bridgette’s mind went blank. Jack lived here? That was perfect, so perfect. The house suddenly didn’t seem so appealing anymore. He thought she was crazy; she didn’t care. She did care when foul things came out of his mouth. Maybe if she acted crazy, he would just let her leave. “I was just on my way to make sure the crickets and the rabbits were playing nicely in the Old Pear Orchard, but I got distracted by a little man that was only three inches tall. He told me that your house is built on an ancient burial ground, and soon the spirits will start tapping on your window at night to ask you to make them a pie.”

It took everything inside Bridgette not to laugh at Jack’s expression of disgust; it almost looked like he was having bowel troubles. Some of the boys smirked. Others looked horrified.

“We will not keep you from your errand,” Jack said, forcibly brushing off his shirt, as if she had coughed an infectious disease on him. He marched on toward the house, and his crew followed. The last one to pass her lingered for a minute. She looked up and was surprised to see Charles.

He smiled sadly. “Sorry about Jack. His mouth can get away from him at times. Well, most times.” Charles was a nice young man, handsome too with his sandy brown hair and boyish face.

“Why do you follow him?” Bridgette asked.

Charles looked down and scuffed at the dirt with his shoe. “We grew up together, and he has a lot more connections for business than I do. If I ever want to make a name for myself, I need to be in his circle.”

That was disappointing for Bridgette. “I see. Well, you better catch up to them.” Charles frowned.

“Hey, I think you dropped something over here,” one of the other boys called to her. Bridgette rolled her eyes.

“If they tell you that giant pile of waste is mine, I hope you are smart enough to not believe them,” Bridgette whispered to Charles.

A small smile appeared on his lips. “Noted. Good luck with your crickets and rabbits.”

Bridgette nodded a farewell and took off running, not wanting to respond to the other boy’s taunts. She ran until she came to the Old Pear Orchard that was not too far from Jack’s property. She found the stream and rinsed her boot off.

Bridgette licked her lips. Her throat was dry, and sweat gathered at her hair line. She looked up at the sun and, by its position, she knew it was about noon. Her stomach grumbled. Hopefully, Birdie would make something for lunch without her. She couldn’t stop now. She had nothing to show for the whole morning. She would not end the day fruitless.

Bridgette looked to the far end of the orchard where The Golden Pear sat. It was probably best that she stay away. But she was thirsty, and a glass of cool, pear lemonade sounded perfect. She would just take a short break, then continue her search.

Butterflies swarmed her stomach as she walked up the restaurant steps. Would they be angry to see her? Hellen didn’t specifically say she could never come back. Bridgette opened the door, and the bell rang. The chatter and the smell of baked potatoes hit her so hard, she took a step back. Just a drink today, Bridgette.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Alice said as she came to the door. “Are you here to dine?”

“Oh, yes,” Bridgette said. “Just a pear lemonade please.”

Alice led her to a small table near the front. “Have you been looking for work?”

“Yes,” Bridgette said as she sat down.

“Any luck?”

“Unfortunately, no. How has today been?”

“Busy. I really miss having you here. I hope Miss Hellen finds someone new soon. I can’t handle it by myself,” Alice said, shaking her head.

“Alice,” Bridgette said, grabbing her hand. “Maybe you could ask Hellen to take me back. She likes you.”

Alice shifted awkwardly and pulled her hand away. “I tried after you left yesterday, but Hellen refused. She said if I ever ask again, she would make me do all the dishes, and you know how I hate doing dishes.”

“Yes, I do.” Bridgette looked down at the table. She knew Alice didn’t understand everything going on in Bridgette’s life, but she had thought that her only friend outside Birdie, Doc, and Ava would help her. The bell rang as someone entered the front door.

“I’ll get that glass for you right away,” Alice said, fluttering away like a pretty butterfly. She returned quickly with a large glass full of the sweet drink. “It’s on the house.” Alice winked at her, and rushed off to help the next customer.

Bridgette let out a long breath, and her shoulders slumped. “Don’t lose hope, Bridgette,” she told herself. A table near her was loud with laughter. It was the same group of girls that had come yesterday, all except Anne. Hopefully, the first day of the girl’s new employment was going better than Bridgette’s hunt for work. She took a big gulp of her drink and sighed with satisfaction. There were few things pear lemonade couldn’t fix. A thought popped into her mind that made her laugh. Birdie had told Bridgette to make herself thirsty. And here Bridgette was, getting a drink because she was thirsty. Did that mean she was supposed to be here? Did she need to try harder to get her position back?

The front door opened again, and Bridgette almost stood up to go greet the customer. “You don’t work here yet, Bridgette. Settle down.”

To her surprise, it was Anne who had come through the door. She rushed over to her friends. Her face was flushed, and tears streaked her cheeks. Laura was quick to help her into a chair. “Goodness, Anne. What happened?” Laura asked.

“H-He-e... he’s a m-m-monster!” Anne exclaimed through uneven breaths.

Bridgette angled herself in her chair to get a better view. What could have made her so upset? What was she talking about? Her friends asked many questions at once.

“Are you not supposed to be working right now?”

“Who is a monster?”

“Were you attacked on the way to Lord Thornwood’s house?”

“He is a monster! Lord Thornwood!” Anne snapped, then cried into her hands.

“He was so ugly he looked like a monster?” Laura asked.

“No, I never saw his face! But I bet he does look like a monster—he sure acts like one,” she said.

“What happened?” Julia asked.

“I went to start my first day. The butler gave me a tour of the manor, and I met Lord Thornwood. He—” Anne sighed, sounding exhausted. “He was very quiet and didn’t say much, which I thought was odd. He had a large hood pulled over his head so I couldn’t see his face. I started my duties by dusting, and I don’t even know what I did! I must have touched something I shouldn’t have or went in the wrong room. I have no clue, but he was furious with me. He yelled at me. I was frozen with fear. His voice was terrible. I felt like a bear or some other beast was growling at me. He made me feel like I was trespassing. He said a lot of awful things I don’t want to repeat!” Anne threw her hands in the air. “Oh, ladies, it was terrible. I started to cry. He said if I didn’t like it there, I should leave, so I did.”

“But wasn’t he going to pay you twice as much as your last employer?” Julia asked, looking perplexed, a hand over her heart.

“Yes, but it is not worth the fear or the treatment,” Anne said, shaking her head.

Bridgette was on her feet without a second thought. “Excuse me, Anne,” she said as she approached. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I am sorry about what happened to you.”

“Thank you. It was awful,” Anne said.

“What did the job entail exactly?” Bridgette asked.

“Regular maid work. A lot of cleaning and organizing and some cooking, among other things,” Anne said, looking confused.

“And how much exactly did he agree to pay you?” Bridgette pressed.

“One gold piece a week,” Anne said bitterly, as if she were frustrated at the lost opportunity.

“What a terrible situation. Again, I am so sorry. I hope you find something else that is sufficient,” Bridgette said. Anne smiled in thanks.

Bridgette returned to her table and downed the rest of her lemonade.

“Don’t do it,” Alice said.

Bridgette looked over her shoulder. “Huh?”

“I know what you are thinking, Bridgette,” she said. Bridgette set her glass on the table and made her way toward the door. Alice followed. “I see the look in your eye. Don’t do it. You can find employment elsewhere that is less dangerous.”

Bridgette turned around. “I don’t have any other choice, Alice.”

“Please, don’t. I can talk to Hellen again,” she offered quickly.

“I thought you hated doing the dishes,” Bridgette said, folding her arms.

“I will endure it, so you don’t have to endure what Anne went through. The lord sounds awful,” Alice said, but Bridgette couldn’t find any sincerity in her voice or her eyes.

“I have been presented with an opportunity that is exactly what I am looking for. After a long day of finding nothing, this seems like a good omen,” Bridgette said, frustrated.

“You probably won’t be any good at it. Anne got yelled at for doing nothing wrong. And you…” Alice said, gesturing to all of Bridgette.

“I will always try my best,” Bridgette said, feeling offended. Why did she have to stand up for herself to Alice?

“That won’t be good enough.” Alice’s eyes widened when she realized what she said. “Bridge—”

“Thank you for your advice, Alice,” Bridgette cut her off. “But I am going to take a chance and hope for the best.”

Bridgette left The Golden Pear feeling defeated.

“Don’t you dare let it get to you, Bridgette,” she said to herself. “We almost have it. Don’t ruin it.”