Page 20 of The Armor of Light
Kit nervously stepped inside and looked around. There seemed to be more furniture in this room than in the rest of the village put together. There were rugs, chairs, numerous small tables, curtains and cushions and pictures and ornaments. There was a piano thatwas much bigger than the only other piano he had ever seen, which was in the Pikestaff house. But there was nowhere in the drawing room for a person to do some drawing.
He was still trying to take it all in when the rector pulled him back and shut the door.
They moved to the next door. ‘Dining room.’ This was simpler, with a table in the middle and chairs all around, plus several sideboards. On the walls were paintings of men and women. Kit was puzzled by a spidery object hanging from the ceiling with dozens of candles stuck into it. Perhaps that was a handy place to keep the candles, so that when it got dark they could just take one out and light it.
They crossed the hall. ‘Billiards room.’ Here was a different kind of table, with raised edges and coloured balls on a green surface. Kit had never before heard the wordbilliardsand was baffled as to what the purpose of the room could be.
At the fourth door the rector said: ‘Office.’ This was the door Will had taken, and the rector did not open it. Kit heard raised voices inside. ‘They’re arguing about you,’ the rector said.
Kit could not make out what they were saying.
At the back of the hall was a green door he had not noticed before. The rector led him through this door into an area of the house that had a different atmosphere: there were no pictures on the walls, the floors were bare of carpets, and the woodwork needed painting. They went down a staircase to the basement and entered a room where two men and two women sat at a table eating an early supper. All four stood up when the rector came in.
‘This is our new boot boy,’ said the rector. ‘Kit Clitheroe.’
They looked at him with interest. The older of the two men swallowed a mouthful of food and said: ‘The son of the man who...?’
‘Exactly.’ Pointing at the speaker, the rector said: ‘Kit, this is Platts, the butler. You will call him Mr Platts and do everything he tells you.’ Platts had a big nose covered with little red lines.
‘Next to him is Cecil, the footman.’ Cecil was quite young and had a lump on his neck which, Kit knew, was called a carbuncle.
The rector indicated a middle-aged woman with a round face. ‘Mrs Jackson is the cook and Fanny there is the maid.’
Fanny was about twelve or thirteen, Kit guessed. She was a skinny girl with spots, and she looked almost as scared as he was.
‘I expect you’ll have to teach him everything, Platts,’ said the rector. ‘His father was insolent and disobedient, so if the boy turns out the same, you’ll have to give him a good thrashing.’
‘Yes, sir, I’ll do that,’ said Platts.
Kit tried not to cry, but tears came to his eyes and rolled down his face.
The cook said: ‘He’ll need clothes – he looks like a scarecrow.’
Platts said: ‘There’s a trunk of children’s clothes somewhere – probably worn by you and your brothers when you were young. With your permission we’ll see if there’s anything there that fits Kit.’
‘By all means,’ said the rector. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He went out.
Kit looked at the four servants, wondering what he should do or say, but he could not think of anything, so he stood still and said nothing.
After a moment Cecil said: ‘Don’t upset yourself, little man, we don’t do much thrashing here. You’d better have some supper. Go and sit next to Fanny and have a piece of Mrs Jackson’s pork pie.’
Kit went to the foot of the table and sat on the bench next to the maid. She got a plate and knife and fork and cut a slice of the big pie in the middle of the table.
‘Thank you, miss,’ said Kit. He felt too upset to eat, but they expected him to, so he cut a piece from the slice and forced himself to eat it. He had never had pork pie and he was amazed at how delicious it was.
The meal was interrupted again, this time by Roger, the squire’s youngest son. ‘Is he here?’ he said as he walked in.
They all stood up again, and Kit did the same. Platts said: ‘Good afternoon, Mr Roger.’
‘Ah, there you are, young Kit,’ said Roger. ‘I see you’ve got a slice of pie, so things can’t be too bad.’
Kit was not sure how to respond, so he said: ‘Thank you, Mr Roger.’
‘Now listen here, Kit. I know it’s hard to leave home, but you must be brave, you know. Will you try to do that?’
‘Yes, Mr Roger.’
Roger turned to Platts and said: ‘Go easy on him, Platts. You know what he’s been through.’
