Willow Chapter 11: The Cleansing

The days went by, and Maggie became used to the rounds of activity required to keep house for a family of the Brown’s wealth. After waking early to start the fires, she ate breakfast with Cook. Then Maggie was busy with sweeping, beating dust out of the rugs, polishing silver, washing and ironing, and dozens of other tasks. Her pallet had been moved to an attic room, where every night she fell quickly into a deep sleep.

Maggie experienced a sense of wonderment that there was plenty of bread, some hard cheese, and vegetables at every meal. She even had meat or fish a few times, a luxury unheard of when she lived in the crowded room with her mother and younger siblings.

Having never been in another mansion belonging to New York’s banking elite, Maggie didn’t realize how unusual it was that Rose the governess directed the housekeeping, and that Cook had to pitch in. She did not know that other wealthy families in the city employed head housekeepers, butlers, laundresses, and other servants. Maggie observed that Mack was sometimes pulled from the stable to act as a butler, and she heard Cook muttering “I’ve never seen such a family, can’t keep help, I suppose it’s all because of the missus.” However, Cook said nothing directly to Maggie, and Maggie did not dream of asking.

Along with some crumpled bills and coins amounting to five dollars per week for her six and a half days of work, money she stowed amidst the old blankets on which she rested, Rose told Maggie she would receive a black dress and white apron, as well as new shoes.

“Child” Rose said a week after Maggie had appeared at the door, frozen to speechlessness “when was the last time you had a bath?”

Maggie hung her head. When her father was alive, she could recall that once a week her family bought a little extra coal to heat water, fill a basin, and wash. That luxury fell away, as did so much else, after they lowered her father into the grave at Potter’s field.

Rose must have seen the mix of embarrassment and sadness on Maggie’s face. “Never mind” she said briskly “it doesn’t matter, we’ll get you washed up properly.”

Thus commenced a secretive operation. On Saturday afternoon, while Mr. Brown was still traveling and while Sarah was out driving Willow, Rose quietly led Maggie to the only bathroom in the house. It was on the second floor next to Mr. Brown’s bedroom. Maggie was astonished at the porcelain sink, the clawfoot tub, and the floor of marble tile. Most of all, she was astonished at the faucets, out of which hot and cold water ran magically.

“Now then, don’t dawdle, the little miss will be back soon. This has to be our secret. You are so dirty you would never get clean in our little servant’s tub.” She filled the bath and added scented epsom salts.

“Get in, and I’ll wash your hair.”

Shyly, Maggie pulled her worn dress off and stepped out of her ragged petticoats. Rose had already disposed of her high top shoes with the torn leather, and a new pair awaited downstairs. Maggie covered herself with the washcloth and her arms as best she could, and sank into the warm water and suds.

Rose massaged Maggie’s hair and scalp with a mix of castile soap and olive oil, rinsing her hair by pouring water from a pitcher.

“Now then, finish washing and use this towel to dry. Put those on” Rose gestured to clothing draped over a mahogany valet stand that was designed for a man’s suit. “And hurry, we have to clean the bathroom as soon as you’re dressed.”

Rose added, picking up Maggie’s old clothes and taking them with her as she left.

Maggie didn’t dare stay long in the bath, but for a moment after Rose left and took the last vestiges of her old life, Maggie lay back in the warm water and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine the feeling that porcelain and marble were something to take for granted. Only for a moment, though, and then she was out of the water, draining the tub. She dressed quickly and opened the door halfway, hoping the steam from her bath would dissipate.

So it was that Maggie, in her new black dress with a starched apron tied tightly around her waist, was rubbing the water drops and grime off the inside of the tub when Miss Sarah rushed down the hallway. Sarah was waving a telegram and spared only a glance in Maggie’s direction.

“Rose, Rose” she called “wherever are you? Father is coming home tomorrow!”

For Willow Chapter 10 please click link below:

https://readmedium.com/willow-chapter-10-willow-falters-30e28c828c53

For Willow Chapter 11 please click link below:

https://claudiastack.medium.com/willow-chapter-12-macks-voice-a0bf1f5eb438

A note to readers: Thank you for giving this book chapter a chance, I hope you enjoyed it. I am sharing one chapter at a time of Willow. In case you are wondering, publishing this book chapter is part of my new goal to share my fiction. Unlike my work on historic African American schools and sharecropping (which has been published in various venues and featured at dozens of film festivals), I have not shared my fiction widely. For links to my documentary films and history articles, please see: http://stackstories.com/