dora had been summoned by mrs stafford, on a wild and stormy night.
what could she want from me? dora wondered. mrs stafford never spoke directly to someone as lowly as dora. all commands were directed through mrs walters, the housekeeper, or on certain momentous or ceremonial occasions through soames, the butler.
"i'm afraid i can't use you ,” mrs stafford told dora, without preliminaries. “you have become useless, quite useless to me. please pack such paltry belongings as you have, and leave the ferns tonight.”
oh, but madam, where shall i go? i have lived here in the big house for twenty years, ever since i was prenticed from the orphanage. it is all i know.
that is no concern of mine. and how dare you presume to question my actions?
but madam, it is raining outside and the wind is howling. must i leave immediately? may i not stay the night, and leave in the morning, after i have had a night’s sleep, and have had time to consider my future course?
i do not want you stirring up discontent among the other servants. i am going to summon soames, and he will see to your immediate departure.
unknown to mrs stafford, or to dora, soames had been listening at the door. when he heard mrs stafford say she was gong to ring for him, he moved down the corridor to the blue room, waited a proper interval and then returned and entered the parlor.
yes, madam?
in a few words, mrs stafford indicated what should be done with dora.
soames nodded, and escorted dora from the parlor and down the corridor to the back stairs. neither of them spoke until they were in the stairwell.
in addition to being head butler at the ferns, soames was a member of the truscottite secret society, which sought to propagate the ferocious doctrines of the late mr ogden truscott, and to destroy and rebuild society.
as such, soames was always looking to convert new members to the cause, and he thought many of the servants who got the sack at the ferns were likely, if not necessarily overwhelmingly desirable, recruits.
look here, my girl, he whispered to dora, when she had collected her meagre belongings and tied them into a bundle, i know just the place where you can spend the night. some friends of mine have a little meeting place -
do you mean a church, mister soames? dora interrupted.
well, it is a place very much like a church, and it offers shelter from the storm to weary and homeless travelers. it is about five miles down the road - no journey at all for a strong young lass like yourself. do you know where the green pig tavern is?
oh yes.
go to the green pig and tell the man at the bar that blackie sent you - don’t use my name, tell him blackie sent you - do you understand?
yes, mister soames.
then good luck to you.
mister soames quickly closed the door behind dora, and made his way back to his station.
*
dora had gone a mile down the high road, into the teeth of the wind and rain, when she met a woman whom she immediately recognized, from the illustrated bible stories books she had read at the orphanage, as mary magdalen.
mary magdalen was horrified at the tale dora told, and informed dora that mister soames and the rascals at the green pig tavern were a band of demons in human form who would sacrifice her to their savage god and bake her in a pie.
mary magdalen accompanied dora for about a mile down the road, where they came to a crossing.
mary magdalen pointed east. i must leave you now, she told dora, but take this road and you will come to a hut. knock on the door and tell them that i sent you. they are good christian folk, the only true ones on this earth, the followers of the reverend budgington hammond, the true preacher of the end times, and they will not bake you in a pie.
and with that mary magdalen headed west down the crossroad, without a backward glance.
dora proceeded east. the road was heavily wooded, and gave more protection from the rain than the high road had.
she was about two miles down the road, and wondering if she should ever find the hut described by mary magdalen, when she encountered another familiar figure from the bible stories books , the prophet ezekiel.
when dora enquired of the prophet if he knew how much further the hut was, and explained why and how she was trying to find it, he exploded in righteous rage. he told her in no uncertain terms, his beard fluttering in the wind, that mary magdalen and the reverend buddington hammond were the spawn of moloch, that they would do much worse than bake her in a pie, and that she should follow a
path - which he pointed to, and that seemed to lead into deep woods - which would take her to the river, and on that river she would find a ship, whose captain was the archangel jegudiel, whose first mate was noah, and whose crew were shadrach and his seven brothers, and that she should ask passage on it if she wished to be saved.
the thoroughly confused dora only wished to get out of the rain, but under the prophet’s burning gaze she entered the little path through the woods, as he directed.
but she came to the river more quickly than she had dared hope, and on its foaming surface she did indeed see a ship - a long dark ship, but with a single bright light shining through one porthole.
but no sooner had she put her foot forward to climb down the bank to the water, when she was confronted with yet another personage, a man with a large face and bright blue eyes, whom she did not recognize from her bible books, but who was nome other than mister william blake.
the bard exhorted dora to flee the scene, and forego setting foot on the ship, which was the ship of damned fools, as prophesied in the lost third book of revelations, and would take her to a shore too terrible to describe, and from which no one had ever returned.
poor dora! she was now bewildered beyond all description, and did not know where she was, let alone where to turn.
how she wished she was back in the cozy side kitchen at the ferns, polishing silverware under the stern gaze of mrs walters, or of jones the chief servingmaid.
how she wished she had done a better job of polishing the forks! the spoons and knives she had done well enough, but the forks had always given her trouble.
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