Disclaimer: Do not own any of the characters, plot, or settings associated with The Chronicles of Narnia. I have just borrowed them and expanded Sarah's character. I do own David.
Author's Note: A month or two ago I read The Magician's Nephew, and noticed how in chapters 6 and 7 it was stated that the housemaid, Sarah, was having such an exciting morning, a wonderful day, etc. It made me wonder how it was so exciting to the housemaid. So finally after thinking about it for several weeks, I wrote about the goings on at the Ketterley house that day from Sarah's point of view. I hope you all enjoy this story; I had a great time writing it, I was laughing nearly the whole time. Please let me know what you think.
Sarah's Day
I am just finishing dusting the mantle in the hall when Mr. Ketterley comes thumping down the stairs. I gulp nervously as he looks right at me and beckons for me to come to him.
Now I have only been here at the Ketterleys' for less than three weeks and have never been summoned by Mr. Ketterley. Usually it is Miss Ketterley that I answer to most often and, of course, the other servants. And, to tell you the truth, I am more than a bit frightened by Mr. Ketterley. There is just something about him that makes me nervous. And if you are alone with him, usually you feel quite alarmed, for he does not look quite as the greatest gentlemen do; he has fussy grey hair and a thin-bone figure. And if he takes a good long look at you with his bright eyes, you feel as if he is eyeing you for some strange purpose. Oh, I have heard plenty from the others of Mr. Ketterley's strange ways. He shuts himself a lot up in the attic doing who knows what. I have heard strange noises coming from there late at night. Liza said he does experiments, even dubbing in a bit of magic. Good gracious me! I do so hope it is not true. Who knows what Mr. Ketterley might do to us all, with his magic and experiments and all. If my mother knew of this, she would not let me stay here. She does not believe in such fairy-tale nonsense and would not want me to possibly get mixed up in it.
I self-consciously smooth my dress and apron and slowly make my way to Mr. Ketterley, who stands on the last step. I fiddle with the duster in my hands.
"Yes, sir?" I ask. Looking up at him, I feel very small and meek.
"Yes, my gel." I still do not understand why he does not say "girl." "Er, Miss…" he looks at me, as though trying to place me.
"Sarah," I venture.
"Miss Sarah," he says, "I am in great need of a hansom. For a very important guest."
Mr. Ketterley rubs his hands in a seemingly nervous fashion and cracks his knuckles. I wince a bit at the rapid popping sound.
A guest? I wonder. No one has come to call today, and it is still only the morning. But I do not dwell on it. It is probably best that I do not.
"Of course, sir, when do you desire one?"
"When? When! Oh, as soon as possible," he answers.
Now he truly does look flustered. From under his tousled mopped hair his dark eyes dart around as though he longs to move about more.
"Don't just stand there, gel!" he snaps at me. "Go and fetch a hansom at once so we do not have to keep our guest waiting. A very grand lady she is…"
The last I am not sure he actually said or not. But I only give a slight hurried curtsy, along with a "Right away, sir!" and rush off. I am ill at ease from being snapped at. How he looked right then…I had never been more frightened of him before. He looked as though he was not just an unusual gentleman who did weird secret things behind closed doors. No, right then as he told me off, he looked like a grand man, like a lord. One who had the whole world at his feet to carry out his every wish and command. Well, I shall help as best I can so as not to get in such trouble with him again.
I put away the duster, take a moment to go to the kitchen to let Betty know I must go out, and then leave the stuffiness of the large house. I welcome the fresh air. Today is one of the rare sunny days this summer. My feet grow steadily lighter as I walk along. To be away from the intimidating presence of Mr. Ketterley causes my heart also to feel lighter. I pause, looking to see if there are any hansoms on the street; there are not. I walk to the end of the street and see Mr. Darling, a young man who befriended me nearly from the first day I came to work at the Ketterleys. A very nice gentleman he is.
"Good day, Miss," he greets me, a twinkle in his eye.
"Good day, Mr. Darling," I politely say in return.
He laughs. "We are friends, Sarah. Please, call me David."
I blush and only give a slight shake of my head.
"And what are you doing on this lovely morning?"
"Oh. Mr. Ketterley requested that I call a hansom," I reply. I then look at him shyly.
"If I may be of service," he inquires.
"If you please."
David produces a cab-whistle and blows two long blasts. We both look up and down the street expectantly.
"Thank you kindly," I say gratefully.
"No trouble at all," David answers, putting away the whistle.
I turn to go, sensing I should hurry back as soon as I can. I pause and resume facing David.
"When it comes, you would kindly direct it to the house?" I ask.
David nods, and I smile at him and bid him good day before hurrying back up the walk to the house.
The house is quiet when I enter. I go to the kitchen to announce my return. I offer to help with the cooking, but Betty says it is best I keep a lookout for the hansom so that Mr. Ketterley may be alerted right way. I post myself at one of the dining-room windows and gaze anxiously up and down the street so that at the first sight it I will deliver the message that it has come. I twiddle my thumbs absently. I am feeling just a bit winded. This morning has not been very natural. I wonder how at ease the rest of the day shall pass. Ah! I smile in relief as a hansom pulls up to a stop before the house.
I leave my station and go about looking for Mr. Ketterley. I glance into the parlor; it is empty. I then make my way to the drawing-room. Raised voices reach my ears as I draw near, though I cannot make anything out. I poke my head inside the room. Never has such a sight met my eyes before – and probably never will again! I look into the room in time to see a great, proud lady, very tall and richly dressed, hurl Miss Ketterley across the room. Miss Ketterley crashes onto the floor. I gasp and gape wide-eyed at the spectacle. The lady obviously is very strong – for Miss Ketterley is not as small as a child –but she has been thrown as though she was only a doll. The lady looks with a proud air at the human she has thrown. She tosses her head. I am shocked at her dress, for I have not seen anything like it. Her arms are nearly completely bare. Her dress is of gold and red. Her long hair is black as the night. And she wears a great crown on her head. Is…is this the "guest" Mr. Ketterley was referring to earlier? She does not seem to be from around here or even our world. She is a giant, and her dress… What if she is not from our world? I wonder. What if she's here because of Mr. Ketterley's mysterious ways? Oh! So he is involved in magic! What will mother say if she hears about this? Oh! I at last see that Mr. Ketterley is also in here, all a-trembling. Never have I had such an exciting morning!
"The hansom has arrived, sir," I speak calmly and make my presence known.
Both Mr. Ketterley and the lady turn their eyes on me. I shift my feet nervously; I doubt I can bear both their stares. But the lady turns her attention to Mr. Ketterley.
"Well, slave, lead on," she says in a great commanding tone.
Slave! I repeat silently. I move out the doorway to allow them to pass. As they come near, Mr. Ketterley begins to talk softly to himself something along the line of "shameful violence" but falls silent at a mere glance from the lady. She does not even spare me a look – of which I terribly do not mind – and parades Mr. Ketterley out of the room. I follow a safe distance and watch as they promenade down the hall and out the house, the door closing with a resounding bang!
I can only stare at the closed door. Thank goodness she is gone! Never have I had such a wonderfully exciting morning.
"By Jove! She's loose! Out in London!"
I discover Master Digory on the stairs, staring at the door. I suddenly realize what he said. Oh! To know that lady is freely going about the city, there will most certainly be trouble. But then I remember Miss Ketterley.
"Oh, dear!" I say, wringing my hands. "I think possibly Miss Ketterley might have been hurt, Master Digory."
"Well, then, come on," the boy cries and together we rush to the drawing-room to see what has happened.
Miss Ketterley is lying on the mattress she had been mending. Master Digory fusses over her, asking if she is all right.
"I believe I am fine except for some bruises," she answers. "Luckily I landed on the mattress and not the floor."
I leave and hurriedly retrieve some sal volatile. I stick my head in the kitchen and request that a cup of tea be made for Miss Ketterley. I then return to the drawing-room. Miss Ketterley is now sitting upright, leaning a hand on Master Digory's shoulder. She thankfully sniffs some of the sal volatile. After a few minutes she says she is much better, and Master Digory and I help her stand. Her face becomes dark like a rain cloud.
"Sarah, go to the police station. Immediately! Let them know there is at large a dangerous lunatic. It is not good that that…creature has been allowed to troop about the city this long. I shall take up myself Mrs. Kirke's lunch." (Mrs. Kirke is Master Digory's mother.)
"Yes, ma'am," I say and am off. I quickly recall and tell her, "I had Betty make you a cup of tea, if you need it."
"Thank you, child," Miss Ketterley says. "Now off you go. The sooner the police are alerted, the sooner London will be much safer."
I put away the sal volatile and once again leave the house. I quickly cover the few blocks to the station. I barge in and give my report to an officer.
"You are absolutely positive about everything you have told me?" the officer asks with a raised eyebrow.
"You do not think I am telling the truth?" I cannot believe this. More time shall be wasted to catch the woman!
"Miss, no woman would ever be out in the streets dressed as you describe. And how could a woman simply toss another across the room?" he says calmly.
"Oh, but it is true! This lady is a lunatic, as Miss Ketterley calls her. But the lady is up to no good. Please you must catch her! Who knows what she will do to London."
The officer licks his lips and opens his mouth to answer me when the door of the station bangs open. A fat man prances in and rushes to the officer I have been talking to. His face is red and dripping with sweat. And one of his eyes is swollen and black and purple.
"Help! I have been robbed. Many pounds worth of jewels by that lady!" the man cries.
The policeman turns his attention to this new arrival.
"You have been robbed?"
"Aye! And she is off with it."
"What did the thief look like, sir?"
"Well, she was very beautiful. Strangely dressed, wore a crown. Very tall – never have I seen a man or woman so tall!"
"That is she!" I cry excitedly. "That is the lunatic that is at large." The policeman will just have to believe me.
The officer glances at my way, seeing me in a new light.
"Thank you, Miss; we will work on this."
I thank him and leave the station, happy that my task is at last done. I walk slowly back towards the house. Never have I had such a day in my life! I at last reach the house and walk up the steps to the door. I place my hand on the knob but pause as the sound of mad galloping reaches my ears. I have only time to wonder if it is a fire engine before around the corner appears she! She stands on the top of the hansom, whipping the horse madly. The lady's hair and dress fly about her. And I see that not only is she a proud lady and a dangerous lunatic but also a wild woman.
My eyes widen as the horse makes right for me. It narrowly misses trampling over a dog wandering near the curb and hitting the lamppost by an inch, though the hansom does. The horse comes over the curb, almost climbs up the steps to run me over, but I jump to the side; the creature rears before the steps.
I see several other hansoms speed up to the house. Policemen pour forth from them. I also see the fat jeweler and another man I do not recognize or know. And behind those hansoms come a good deal many people on foot and bicycles. What a crowd, all come to see the show! I then notice from the rubble of the hansom the lady was driving a figure trying to pull itself out. The person is offered assistance by several people. But the poor chap would be free sooner if he does so by himself. He is being pulled every which way. His clothes are all dirtied and soiled. And his hat is completely over his face. All I can see is his long neck. I try to hold back a fit of giggles that seize me as I watch the poor man. Why! I do believe the gentleman to be Mr. Ketterley, for he was with the lady. I try to muffle my laughter, for now he does not look as frightening as he usually does or as lordly as he was this morning.
The door behinds me swings open, and Master Digory joins me on the step.
I watch as Mr. Ketterley attempts to speak – except that his hat being over his face makes understanding him impossible. I shake with silent mirth at this and watch with excitement the exchange he has with an officer.
Oh, that poor horse that the lady rides! She is driving it mad, I say, for it nearly kicks an officer. Then a man comes forward, claiming ownership of the horse and now firewood hansom. The lady grows angry. Empress Jadis is her name, she says. Aye, she is not from here. Only Mr. Ketterley could have brought about her coming, I am sure.
"Three cheers for the Hempress of Coloney 'Atch!" some in the crowd cry.
I do not join in the jestings. Instead I stare at the lady's face. Her eyes become cold, and the look on her face strikes fear into my heart as she realizes she is being made fun of. And then with one hand she breaks one of the crossbars off the lamppost. The taunts and laughs instantly cease. Now all have seen what I witnessed in the drawing-room: her great strength. Then all grow fearful in their hearts. The lady urges the horse to move and hits some of the officers with the heavy iron. I shudder at the sickening crashes and thuds.
I stare in horror at the fallen men. I sigh as one of them starts coming to. I look around for the lady, but she has vanished. Where is she? Oh, and the cabby and the horse, too? Others start noticing them missing, and some take to trying to find where they have all gone. I frown. More of Mr. Ketterley's magic, perhaps. I hope the lady is truly gone, gone from London and this world.
I then step aside for Master Digory and Miss Polly as they come up to the door. I stare speechlessly at the figure they are leading. Mr. Ketterley! He appears to be wet and muddy. His clothes are a mess and in near rags – I shall never be able to mend them, and I doubt clean them – his hat is…well, I doubt he shall ever be able to use it again. There are thistles sticking out of his pants. He can barely walk, let alone in a straight line. There are scratches and bruises on his hands and neck. His hair has never looked worse. It is fuzzy and puffy and plastered together with mud and – I sniff the air – honey! And the sticky stuff is all over his face. How he can have his eyes open I do not know!
I can only watch them retreat into the house and firmly shut the door. I frown. I do not recall Mr. Ketterley being that much of a mess when he jumped out of the ruined hansom. But what do I know? Maybe it had something to do with his mysterious ways and magic. As I think about what he looked like just now, I am overcome with giggles.
I watch as the ambulance comes and takes away the injured officers. As the show obviously is winding down, the crowd thins. This will be the talk of the city for days, mark my words. Never have I had such an exciting day!
I am about to turn and go inside the house myself when someone calls my name.
"Sarah!"
I look back and David reaches the steps.
"Are you all right, Sarah?" he asks, gazing at me with great concern. "The horse could have…" he trails off and looks down at his feet.
I smile. "I am fine. The horse never touched me. But I should be getting inside. Mr. Ketterley was inside the hansom that crashed into the lamppost," I say.
"Oh! Yes, indeed. He was in the hansom, now, wasn't he?" David exclaims, looking at me again. "I am just glad you are all right. You were dreadfully close to the whole thing."
"I am truly fine," I reassure him. "But I thank you for your concern."
He nods to me. "Well, I hope you have a good evening."
"Thank you." I sense it will be busy. "Good-bye," I tell him.
"Good-bye," he says and then walks away.
I go into the house but pause before closing the door. My eyes track David as he moves along the street. I smile and then close the door, prepared for whatever more excitement will pass this evening.
THE END