Chapter 14: Chapter 14 – A truly warm welcome

Oscar's warm welcome in the Seymour domain lasted, to be precise, a day and a half. One day, counting that Monday on which he had been received and dismissed through the front door, like another guest. And half because, the next morning, although it´s true that Patrick attended him early again -thus demonstrated that, if he wanted to overcome laziness and hangovers, he could do it- as soon as he heard the news that Theresa had decided to take her time to respond to the invitation, he turned his back on Oscar. Disregarding him and giving the task of showing the property to the butler.

It was evident the protagonist was disappointed to hear that Theresa did not possess the same euphoria of sharing together that he did, although Oscar had tried to explain it to him so that the actions of the smallest of the Cornells didn´t sound rude.

According to what Oscar said, Theresa could hardly fit within herself with joy when she heard the news that she could go to the most interesting fair by the arm of such an elegant gentleman as Patrick was, but as it was the first time she had been invited to an event in this way, she needed time to gather her thoughts and write a letter of thanks worthy of the Seymour heir.

Of course, that lie was very easy for someone who, like Oscar, knew Theresa's temperament well. Well, she barely showed emotions, unless the thing was about one of her hobbies and, even so, the favorable response in terms of expressiveness was minimal. But Patrick had no problem giving her a vote of confidence, imprisoned by his own ego and convinced that this girl would soon fall into his net.

Ah, but he wasn't going to keep favoring that stable boy! Who would return to Lilac Hall without a note of his new conquest? That was the uselessness in person...

Although of course, he had already told him that he could stay. Besides, Oscar was serving at Theresa's house, so he must have been valuable to her in some way. That's why he didn't kick him out. But, with his humor ravaged for the remainder of the day, he decided to pass the trouble of showing the surroundings to someone else.

Then Patrick went back to bed without wasting any more words, like a child who is mistakenly awakened to go to school on a Sunday, without looking at the culprit for his wakefulness.

Oscar stayed in the company of Kilduff, a butler whose trajectory serving the Seymour family was so long that no one remembered his first name anymore. He was the one who guided the newcomer through the entire lower floor or, in other words, through those rooms to which an employee of the lowest rank was allowed to go. Since Kilduff was also under no obligation to introduce him to the dozens of people who composed the patrons 'service one by one, he was content to introduce him to Jonathan Moore, another mummy in the Seymours' house. Although, on this occasion, a mummy worse dressed and prone to spending more time outside than inside.

"Is this the help you bring me?" He had asked contemptuously when he saw Oscar, addressing the butler. “Come on now! I don't know why I'm asking for help, they only bring me tadpoles who don't even know how to hold a rake well. Look how thin he is! If I command him to hold a pot, surely his arms will fall off!”

Oscar restrained himself upon hearing this affront, maintaining his cordial demeanor at all costs. Kilduff, who must have been used to the gardener rejecting candidates, remarked in a neutral tone:

"It was the lord's decision."

"From the son or the father? I'm not up to this nonsense! Last time they sent me a little boy, they practically had to tear him out of his mother's skirts to come and attend to me. That he was going to help me with my chores, they said... Bullshit! They almost had me babysitting. So many decades wasted taking care of a brat!”

"That was three years ago and the boy wasn't that young."

"True, I didn't have to change diapers, but just barely!"

"Well, I'll leave him in your charge," sighed Kilduff, who after half an hour of walking, and explanations that Patrick did not know or did not want to give, must already be exhausted. “Please be sure to instruct him properly, as the master wanted it that way. Oh, and be careful not to complain too much to the other servants; Although there´ll be no visitors today, it´s not pleasant for anyone to see an old man cry.”

“As if!” Moore raised his fist, prepared to start a fight, but Kilduff was no longer paying attention. “Who is going to cry ?! ´Cause it seems to me the only one who do it will be you in how you continue to push your luck! For that I don´t discriminate, I don´t care to hit a thief nor a stud in a suit. Can you hear me?!”

But Kilduff was no longer listening to him, he had left without saying goodbye, taking advantage of the fact that his position as butler guaranteed him a certain immunity from the angry outbursts of certain individuals and, no matter how much they threatened him, he knew that such words would never be fulfilled. Well, the price to carry them out was too high for someone who received a paltry salary and who didn´t even have guarantees that the next day he´d be able to continue working there.

"What about you? Do you have something to tell me?" He asked now directing his anger towards Oscar, being the only one left.

“Not really. I came to be instructed, so of course I will follow your orders,” he said peacefully. “If you want to start a nursery, it doesn't bother me,” he added, now earning a reproachful look from his new boss. “Although it´s true that I´d prefer you to center yourself to this work, and to teach me how I can be of use, if that could be.”

"Another peak of gold, damn my luck to run into these types of madmen," Moore murmured, and before Oscar could argue anything, the guy raised his voice, calling for someone behind him. “Kenneth!”

Oscar turned around to see a boy who, similarly dressed and not much younger than himself, ran to meet him. Was that the kid they were talking about? The one who almost had to change his diapers three years ago? What an exaggeration! Oscar already assumed it would be, of course, but he imagined the boy they were referring to would be eleven or twelve, being that that was a good age to start serving when it came to children from humble families. He didn´t count on the aforementioned being in his early twenties.

"Take care of this useless thing, okay?" This was not a suggestion, but a command that Moore spoke as he pointed at Oscar. “Take him to his room, leave his things and get to know the area a little. Surely that limp stick has barely stopped to let him assimilate anything... He´ll start working in the afternoon, you´ll show him his functions.”

At this point, Oscar no longer knew what the hell to think. On the one hand, Moore did not seem a despicable being, since he understood the concept of adapting to a new environment and, although his words could be hurtful, he didn´t try to make things difficult for him. On the other hand, since Patrick had delegated the tasks of dealing with to the butler, the butler to Moore, and now the latter also did it in favor of this Kenneth, Oscar had the impression of having become one of those witnesses used in the races relay. With one difference, yes: it seemed that there was no rush to get him across the finish line.

"Of course we sure will get along!" Exclaimed a boy who, smiling, walked towards him. “Kenneth Archer, is my name.” He wanted to shake his hand, but before he did, he wiped it on his pants to remove any traces of dirt. “But you can call me Ken.”

Oscar liked this boy. He was the first person that morning that didn´t greet him with a sour expression. So he returned the introductions, not with the same effusiveness but with the same friendly smile.

"Gladwin, you say?" Kenneth had asked after hearing his last name from Oscar himself. “Like the Gladwins of Basingstoke? Ah, are you not related to them?”

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Oscar went blank for a few seconds before replying:

"No, I think you´re mistaken for someone else. My family has always lived in Snodland.”

At least, that's what the few three or four lines that were used in the novel to talk about the parents of his character said.

“Is that so? Well, I'm glad! These Gladwins I was telling you about were thugs. I mean, it's not that they stole anything or that they went around killing people, no, that´d be too sophisticated. It´s that they were short of money, since their only source of income was the pension provided by the great-uncle of one of them, who had had to retire from the army due to an injury, and who by the way they were taking care of (because she is a nurse). But the old man died, something normal on the other hand, because he was already past ninety and his heart had been failing for years. So what do you think they did to keep charging?

"Surprise me."

"They secretly buried him in the cemetery and put one of their sons to play the sick man! Let's see, the eldest of the Gladwin children looks like he was about nine years old, but what´s people going to know. If the old Colonel Gladwin had been in the house for a few years, he had hardly left his room. The disease had also caused him to lose weight and shrink, so with some makeup, a false beard, and precise instructions to pretend to be asleep, the boy could play the part perfectly.”

"That's… impressive." Oscar had a hard time finishing the sentence because, to be honest, he was not at all interested in the life and work of those Gladwins with whom no blood ties linked him.

He didn't order Kenneth to shut up because he heard, he might be a parrot, but was also kind. And he didn't want to lose that favor upon arrival.

"Isn't it true?" Fortunately, Kenneth did not seem to notice the disinterest of others and proceeded without difficulty to continue recounting the misadventures of that family. “The play went well for them for about seven years, until the bank became suspicious and sent someone to check that the old man was still breathing. Before they didn´t notice anything, because the old man could not read or write, so he always signed with a cross and there was no way to verify his signature. But of course, to bring him the papers, there was always a banker who had to go to his house... And this is a curious event, because among the bank employees a rumor that old Gladwin was becoming more robust and jovial now that he was approaching a hundred. They even said he was growing!” Kenneth used this moment to give a hearty laugh that made Oscar understand why he was alone with him while Moore was no longer even in sight. “Oh, true! If you don't have anything to do with these people, who are your relatives? I asked why, after all this mess, the Gladwin couple ended up in prison and his children, who were still minors, ended up having to live on their own. Working on what they could.”

"As I was saying, my whole family is from Snodland. Regarding my parents, they passed away when I was little.”

"I see, then the dates don't fit, it must have been a long time ago. Was it natural death? Ah, sorry! Don't look at me like that, you don't have to tell me, okay? This is what Moore was referring to when he says I´m too careless about these things… Hey! But you come from Rose Cottage, right? There´s something good you must be doing with your life then, because Edmund Cornell always had a reputation as an upright man. And his service just like him, that is, there was never any scandal involving them.”

Several scenes came to Oscar's mind. The first one, Cornell in the company of the governess, not exactly for a decent meeting. The second, the time Madeleine made him go up to her room when she was still half dressed. And the third, but no less impressive, the drama that had been spared (for now) when the aforementioned put together a little scene of jealousy because of her younger sister, who was not at fault for her.

Remembering all this, his face darkened.

"What's wrong? Is there a scandal...?" Asked Kenneth, Lilac Hall's avid conspirator, quickly catching the changes on the new gardener's face. “By the way, now that I think about it, what happened to your cheek? It has a very bad color. I was going to ask you before, but...”

"It was an accident," he hastened to reply, before the other began to guess, "a bad fall, to be exact." He saw Kenneth had something else to ask about it, but during all that talk they had already crossed the gardens and entered the service wing of Lilac Hall, stopping at one of the bedroom hallway doors, so Oscar used this stop to his advantage. “Is this my room?”

"Ours," Kenneth corrected, completely evaporating his earlier doubts and inviting him in, "our room, you should say."

The room in question was barely three meters square, with walls upholstered with a monotonous gray wallpaper, with no other decoration in sight. There was a window six feet above the ground. Which was small, barred and did not have curtains. Regarding the furniture, there was nothing good to say about it. In so little space there could only be a dresser, a nightstand and bunk beds like those that could be used in any homeless shelter in the big city.

Oscar sighed. He had been duped, again. He was not expecting luxury, but he did expect his conditions to improve a bit over Rose Cottage.

"Nice, huh?" Kenneth said, sticking his finger into the wound, even though he wasn't doing it on purpose; He really considered the place beautiful. “When I lived in the house the Seymours have in London the rooms were terrible, we had to share a space a little larger than this between four people. Now there is much more room to breathe, and on top of that we are in the countryside! It's great, I couldn't be more satisfied.”

"Did you live in London before?"

It was known to all that the Seymours owned two mansions. One in London, and this was the one they used during the social season, and another in Brighton. Lilac Hall, according to the novel, had been acquired with a view to allowing Patrick to achieve some independence, considering that his father, Captain Seymour, believed that there was nothing better for a man to grow up than to abandon him in a little house, hundreds of miles from his usual residence.

“Yes, yes, but when the boss decided to buy this house, the service had to be shared. In addition to hiring new people, the man let many of us come to live here with the young master, because we are trustworthy people and all that.” Pointing to the beds, he inquired. “Do you mind if you keep the one below? I've been using the top one since I arrived.”

“As you like.”

Oscar said this, but he would have liked to use the top bunk. Not that he was particularly fond of heights, but he could almost imagine having to wake up every morning thanks to his neighbor on the upper cot, who could get off his bed whenever he wanted and give him a good scare in the middle of the night.

In truth, the stay at Lilac Hall looked to be more troublesome than he realized.

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