The Fortunate woman

The trek from the bus stop to the estate was going to be long. She just didn't know which way to walk yet. The bus only made stops in town, so Abigail had to rely on her two strong legs for transportation. Fortunately, she did not mind walking.

Except that it had just rained hours earlier, and her old, worn-out footwear was far from waterproof. You would assume that someone who has been working nonstop since the age of eighteen would have enough money to buy new ones, but this couldn't be further from the reality.

She had worked as a maid since she was booted out of the orphanage for being too old. Her prior employers used to charge her for the room she inhabited in their houses, as well as the food she ate. Someone even charged her for the water she used to shower, which meant that whatever money she had left over from her income had to go directly to her small bank account.

She stared down at the crumpled piece of paper in her palm, with the address of her next employment scribbled on it as if it would magically inform her which way to walk. Sighing, she braced herself for having to ask a stranger for directions, something she despised.

She saw a young man her age going her way and decided to question him. But as she approached him, her anxiety intensified. Abigail had never been comfortable talking to strangers; it made her nervous, but she had no option just now.

"Excuse me," she said, but he either didn't hear her or disregarded her, so she spoke up: "I'm searching for the Charles Estate. Could you show me the way?

The young man glanced up as he was about to pass her and remarked, "Google it," without pausing.

Abigail couldn't do much but look at his back. So, that did not go well.

She felt discouraged and didn't want to ask anybody else, but she had no option. There was no sign directing them to this particular estate. She gazed about at the vacant town centre. The young man's receding form was the only person visible until the frail frame of an old woman appeared from one of the surrounding residences.

Relieved, Abigail collected her tiny suitcase and approached the woman, secretly ready herself for another rejection.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said. To her relief, the woman quickly switched her attention to Abigail, giving her the strength to continue. "I'm looking for the Charles estate, I have the address right here but I don't know which way to go."

The old woman did not even look at the paper in her hand before pointing to a route along the main thoroughfare. "It's a long distance if you want to walk there, sweetheart. But if you continue this road for a few kilometres, you'll come across the estate soon; it's hard to miss."

Abigail couldn't help but smile at the sweet woman. "Thank you so much."

"Take care, sweetie. "It's dangerous to walk along the road, so keep an eye out for cars," the woman said before continuing on her route.

It was soon evident what the woman meant by her warning. There was no sidewalk on the road, so she had to walk on it or on the mossy side, which was exhausting. Fortunately, the automobiles that passed were few and far between, so she had little to worry about on her stroll.

She attempted to ignore the squeaking of her damp socks in her shoes, hoping that her new staff would find them acceptable. They were ordinary black shoes that didn't appear too horrible on the exterior. The majority of the holes were either unseen because of her ClRiley-chosen black socks, or on the bottom of the shoe, which no one noticed anyhow.

The countryside surrounding the town was stunning. Thick, thick woodland surrounded the road, and she believed she spotted a rabbit scurry away. After wandering for quite some time, she came to a side road in the disfranchise. It wasn't until she came closer that she saw it was a driveway with a stunning cast-iron gate in front of it.

She'd only walked for an hour and a half, which she thought was reasonable. This allowed her to go into town on her day off. She simply hoped that the town had more to offer than the petrol station she passed on her way out.

As she approached the gate, she caught a glimpse of the estate and couldn't help but pause to soak in the beauty of it all. The lush green lawn was centred on a stunning English-style home. She didn't dare to predict how many rooms it included. It finally made sense to her why everyone referred to it as 'the estate' rather than a normal house; this was so much more than that.

After gathering her thoughts, she approached the little gadget attached to the gate and pressed the doorbell. The device crackled for a moment before a man's voice said, "Charles estate, how may I help you?"

Abigail moved closer to the device to be heard better before responding, "Good evening, this is Abigail Gabriel, the new maid."

She wasn't sure why she concluded the statement with a question; perhaps it was a defensive mechanism in case things went wrong and they weren't searching for a maid after all.

"Why, yeah. "Come on in," the voice said before the connection was cut off. A few seconds later, the gate began to move on its own, just enough to allow her in.

The trip from the gate to the estate's main entrance took longer than she expected, but she arrived after only a few minutes. A tall guy with wispy grey hair on the side of his head greeted her at the door, smiling warmly. "Miss Gabriel," he welcomed. "I'm Gavin, the butler of this estate."

"Nice to meet you, Gavin; you may call me Abigail. "If you want," she said, shaking his hand.

"Very well, Abigail. Let me escort you to your room; I am sure it was a long trek to arrive in this tiny town."

"If only he knew," she thought. But she did not say it. Instead, she smiled pleasantly at him and nodded.

He took her farther into the mansion, and she tried not to stare at the pricey furnishings and luxurious arrangement of the space. She would have plenty of time to gaze at everything once she started working.

Gavin led them both past the stairs and into a corridor lined with unique-looking artwork. Some were older, some were newer.

Perhaps the owner of this mansion was a collector of art?

They walked past the kitchen and a few storage rooms before entering another corridor. A sign stated 'Servant's quarters,' but she had no idea how many servants there would be; Gavin was the only one she'd seen so far.

He paused when he approached another door and took a key from his pocket before unlocking it. "This one is for you, young lady," he replied, pulling the key out again and handing it to her.

She happily accepted it from his fingers; she had never held a room key before. The orphanage didn't even have doors so that the caregivers could see what was going on at all times, and her prior employers never bothered to give her keys.

"Thank you," she said, following him inside.

The room was tiny but had all she needed. A twin bed stood against the wall, with a little desk opposite it. To her left was an antique-looking closet that could house more clothing than she had possessed. The window provided just enough natural light to brighten the space without turning on the lights. There was a door next to the desk, and she could only hope to have her bathroom once.

"This will be your room throughout your employment; as you may have observed, you are the only one now occupying the servant's quarters. The servants' eating area is down the hall, and Loren and I will join you for meals. Loren is the chief housekeeper, therefore you will follow her instructions. Breakfast is at 7, and you'll meet Loren there to discuss the specifics of your responsibilities."

Abigail nodded enthusiastically; Gavin appeared to be a good grandpa figure, and she had yet to learn anything about the estate's owner. This assignment appeared to be her easiest yet.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Your uniform is in the closet; you must wear it.

Her gut twisted with the final words; uniforms were never a good indication. They were consistently overly short and unpleasant to work in. Someone even made her wear an Italian maid dress once.

"Alright, thank you," she said stiffly to the butler's leaving figure, before dumping her suitcase to the floor. She moved slowly to the closet, then opened it to check her uniform. To her astonishment, everything was OK.

The dress was just above her knees, but not as short as the ones she'd become accustomed to, and instead of a low-cut v-line neck, it was a turtleneck with short sleeves. She truly enjoyed it.

She sat down on the bed, satisfied, to take another look at the place. She could certainly get accustomed to this.