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Extended Work
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| Aunt Amelia's Tea Service. | |
| By Diddi | ||||||||||||||||
| 14 March 2008 | ||||||||||||||||
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This is intended to be several chapters, whether it gets there or not remains to be seen. I have edit numbers at the end of each paragraph, could you please use them. I need them. I know it is irritating to have them there when you are reading, if you could just put up with them I'd be over the moon. Aunt Amelia was my mother's aunt; she lived at the top of the stairs, in two rooms. One was her bedroom, which I seldom entered; when I did, it was to get her beautiful ivory-inlaid hair brush. She would brush my hair, 2 "One hundred strokes always, my dear." 3 We would count them, then she would re-tie the bows that Nanny had placed in my hair. 4 "Off you go, my dear, pretty as a picture." 5 Each time I kissed her obediently on her thin, pale cheek. I would breathe in the faint, delicate scent of elderly lady and lavender that was always about her; blow a kiss at the door and run off down the stairs to the school room.6 For many years, I flitted up and down those flights of stairs to Aunt Amelia. She was always there, a living ghost in those two rooms. In her sitting room was the little kettle sitting upon it's spirit stove; the small tea pot with its companion sugar bowl and the tiny milk jug, the methylated spirits container and its wadding holder securely screwed against small prying fingers, beside the black leather encased box. Close by, would be the tea set. We would often have cups of tea and biscuits together. 7 The cups, small delicate bone china, sat upon small, delicate saucers. The filigree patterns of the flowers glowed with the addition of the hot tea. The tea, fragrant, and delicately spiced, promised imaginary visits to wonderful, mysterious eastern lands.8 Afternoon tea finished, I would carefully wash the tea cups and saucers and put them back on the shelf. Sometimes, I was allowed to clean and put away the tea service in its beautiful, black leather box. 9 It was always a fascination to me, that box. Distant desert lands. Battles glorious. England, Empire, Victoria Regina. India, spices, mysteries, scents unknown. Dreams, like butterflies, fluttered through my imagination. Soft tales from Aunt Amelia, adding pictures to my dreams. My visits to her rooms, bright sunlight among dark days.10 As the years of my childhood sped by, Aunt Amelia was always there when I needed her. I would chatter away to her, telling her the adventures of my days; the hateful things my three brothers did to me; and when I was bigger and older, I would "See them off, in no uncertain terms!" Aunt Amelia would laugh and smile and soothe my ruffled feelings.11 Gradually, without my realising, the visits to Aunt Amelia lessened. I was growing up. the day came when Mama allowed me to "put up my hair". It was my sixteenth birthday; so exciting! Mama's maid and I spent hours trying different styles, pinning and unpinning my hair, chattering all the while like little birds upon a branch. It was such fun. Eventually, the time came for me to go down to luncheon with the family.12 I came down the staircase, careful of my dress and hair. James the footman, was at the door to the dining room. 13 "Miss Alexandra, allow me." He opened the door and went before me "Sir, Madam, Miss Alexandra!" 14 I was overwhelmed, then James tipped me a sly wink. I was comforted by James' gentle humour.15 I entered shyly, father glanced and 'humphed'; I expected him to be that way. 16 A smile from my mother and a whispered ,"you are beautiful, my dear." gave me courage.17 My brothers burst in, in their usual tumbling way, and started teasing me. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment and I fled. As I went, I heard Mother chiding them roundly. But I fled, up the stairs to Aunt Amelia. I flew through the door, threw myself before her, laying my head in her lap. 18 "Child, whatever is the matter!" she said, with some concern. 19 I poured out my misery, tears damping her lilac gown.20 She stroked my head gently, sounds from her eased my pain.21 "Make us some tea, my dear. Earl Grey, I think." she said softly. "Boys are such horrors, are they not? My brothers were dreadful to me as well. They do have some compensations, though." 22 She paused, carefully pouring the tea into those beautiful tiny cups. She handed me my tea, head cocked to one side, watching me sip my tea. 23 "When you start going to the parties and soirees, your Father will require one or the other of them to escort you. You may enjoy being with them then. It will be their discomfort, not yours, at these evenings; so treat them kindly, my dear." 24 I became comforted by her tender concern, and we began to talk of the beginning of my adult life, the exciting times I would no doubt have, and the young men I would meet. We also talked of the responsibilities that I would now have, to my family and to myself. Presently, Mother called that it was time for us to go to the City. I kissed Aunt Amelia goodbye and held her close as I thanked her for her kind advice. Then I was gone. Gone into the first day of my adult life.25 My life became a constant round of balls and parties, filled with new people; some I liked and others I did not. As Aunt Amelia had told me, my brothers were required to escort me. I came to quite like them, some of the other young ladies I met at the parties thought that my two elder brothers were quite interesting, which intrigued me.26 One morning, at breakfast, my mother told me that Aunt Amelia was not well, and did I think I should go upstairs and visit her after breakfast? I was appalled that I had neglected my visits to her for such a long time. I went up to Aunt Amelia as soon as I was able. I found she was not in her accustomed place, but in her bedroom.27 I tapped gently on her door and Annie, Mama's maid opened the door, a finger touching her lips. She came from the room, gently pulling the door closed behind her28 "Miss Amelia is resting quietly. Doctor Williams has been and will be back later to see your Father." She whispered. 29 I was not used to Annie being so forthright in her manner; I had always found her to be a quiet, biddable person. At first I bristled, but then realised that she was only thinking of my Aunt Amelia's well being. 30 I smiled at her and asked her if she had had her dinner yet. She had not. I suggested that she go below stairs to the staff dining room for a much needed rest. I assured her that I would be as 'quiet as a church mouse' and would sit beside my Aunt until she came back. Reassured, she went off to the staff quarters.31 I drew a small chair close to the bedside of Aunt Amelia and gently touched her hand with mine. 32 "Aunt Amelia, is there anything that I should bring for you?" I asked, quietly, somewhat afraid and apprehensive. She shook her head slightly.33 "Aunt Amelia, shall I read to you?" I asked. I perceived a slight nod from her,34 "A chapter from "the Moonstone" perhaps?" She looked at me and smiled.35 The Moonstone, had been a great favourite of ours over the years. We had savoured the richness of India, the perils of the Moonstone's curse and the cleverness of the writer, uncovering the many facets of this most exciting story. Our many visits to Mr. Collins' wonderful book had led us to "Robinson Crusoe" as the hero of "the Moonstone" had used it to solve the mystery of the cursed Indian Diamond. 36 Later, we had read Mr. Dickens' novels, first in serial form, in rather doubtful popular 'sheets' that were avidly read by many, including the staff 'below stairs' and which were delivered to Aunt Amelia in secret. I suspect James may have assisted here.37 I also remember a much dog-eared copy of "Tom Jones" appearing in Aunt Amelia's sitting room. I met and loved, instantly, the Bronte sisters. I was confused at first, because our first copies were by the "brothers, Bell' but that was soon dispelled when it was revealed that they were in fact, sisters. Aunt Amelia ensured that we replaced our copies with the new works. So many wonderful books we had read and discussed together, through the years, and now I was to read to Aunt Amelia from the book which started our search, the Moonstone.38 "Aunt Amelia, where should I start?" I asked, watching her, not without a little anxiety. She was extremely pale and still. "Should I begin at the "Fifth Narrative?"39 Aunt Amelia shook her head, "Begin at the beginning, child. The prologue, it sets the scene." 40 I turned back the pages to the prologue. It had been a long time since I had read this piece, my voice soon relaxed and I read with enjoyment, knowing my intonation was correct, the timbre of my voice reflecting the words I was reading.41 Caught into the prose, I at first, did not recognise the lack of sound in the room.42 I paused, scarcely breathing, to listen.43 During my reading, Aunt Amelia had slipped silently from my world into another, where I could not reach her.44 I half rose from my chair to call for assistance, as I did, I saw her face. I resumed my seat and continued to read from the book that she and I loved best.45 "Come, my dear," I started. I had not heard my mother enter, she touched my shoulder gently, "come, Alexandra, it is time to go." 46 My mother exerted firm pressure to my shoulders and assisted me to rise. She quietly took the book from my hands and placed it, open, on the night stand beside Aunt Amelia's bed. I was turned and guided through the door into Aunt Amelia's day room. 47 "Mother, I can't leave her, she is all alone." 48 Mama lifted my chin with a finger, and I looked into her eyes. Her eyes were filled with pain and pools of sadness. 49 "I loved her also, Alexandra, you will not be leaving her, for she has left us. We will be the poorer for her going, but she has given us so much, be comforted." 50 My Mother led me to her own rooms and sat me down. I do not remember what Mama said, yet a peace came upon me, brought about by my Mother's words. Words of love, sadness, strength and gentleness and above all, a sharing of the loss we received this day.51 I do not know how, but Aunt Amelia's Tea Service and the Tea Set were in Mama's rooms. The "India" box filled with the tea herbs was with them. Mama removed the lid. 52 "My dear, which was your favourite tea with Aunt Amelia?" 53 The fragrance assaulted me, tears welled in my eyes and I could not speak. Instead, I pointed to the partition that held the Earl Grey leaves.54 "Ah, exotic and flavoursome,"Mama said "Alexandra, prepare the tea, please." 55 I fumbled with my handkerchief, twisting it a little, I looked at Mama and she sat, hands in her lap.56 "Make the tea, as you did so many times for Aunt Amelia." 57 I bowed my head and haltingly began the building of the Tea Service, opening the little stand for the tiny kettle, preparing the container with the wadding and the spirits. 58 I set out the tiny cups and saucers. Mother gave me some water for the kettle, I would have boiled it dry, so disordered was my mind.59 I lit the little burner and presently, we heard the kettle singing. There was milk for the jug, sugar for the pot, from where I know not. 60 There developed the familiar rhythm, learned from Aunt Amelia. It brought Mother and me to an equality I have never known, a certain place where we understood each other's loss. We sipped from from those wonderful tiny cups, all the while exchanging our memories and thoughts of Aunt Amelia. I think we may have filled the kettle many times.61 "My dear, did Aunt Amelia show you the secret of the Tea Service?"62 I must have shown surprise for Mama said, "Ah, she did not, well, I shall open her secret for you." 63 Mama removed the velvet walls of the box and turned them over. The back of the partitions had thin, fragile papers behind.64 End of part one.
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