Chapter 9

Mrs. Chaplin led Violet through the house and into the kitchen. There a woman, perhaps in her thirties, with dirty blonde hair piled up on top of her head was barking orders to the three other people in the large kitchen. “Ah, Mrs. Chaplin, how’s everything today. Got something for me?” she asked, seeing the governess. 

“This is Violet, she’s here to replace Irene,” Mrs. Chaplin replied.

The woman looked over Violet with a nod. “Alright, thank you, Ma’am,” then to Violet said. “I’m Elanor, wash your hands, and put this on.” She handed Violet a white jacket looking. “Let’s get you to chopping.”

“I’m Violet,” she said, her voice strained. Only now did it occur to her that she was going to be expected to cook. The only times Violet had ever gone into the kitchen was to get a plate of leftovers or something to drink. The closest she ever came to actually cooking is taking food out of the freezer to put it in the microwave. Even then, most of the time Gloria did that for her. Hands shaking again, Violet put on the jacket, buttoning it then washing her hands. ‘I can do this’ she told herself. How hard could it be?

Elanor puts a knife in her hand. “Cut those carrots over there. Don’t worry, Eddie already washed them. When you finish with all of them, move to the onions. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Violet grabbed a carrot, setting it on the large cutting board before her. At least, she knew what a cutting board was. Trying not to get her fingers, Violet cut a chunk of carrot, then another. She’d cut about half of the carrots when another one of the staff walked over. She was about the same age as Elanor, though a lot plumper and her hair was much grayer. She looked over the amount Violet had already cut. “That’s all? What’s taking so long? And why in God’s name haven’t you peeled them first?” Violet’s shoulders hunched at the reprimand. The woman huffed. “Peel the damn things first then you cut them and hurry up!”

The others were glancing over at Violet and she could feel her face heat. “O-okay. I will.”  She picked up the next carrot and tried to peel it. 

“Not so much,” Elanor said, making Violet jump and nearly cut herself. 

“W-what?”

“You’re taking too much of the carrot off when you’re peeling. You just want to take off the outer layer. I thought Mrs. Chaplin said you would have experience? I don’t have time to train some green girl, especially in the middle of dinner.” 

“Oh, I am. I just…” Violet’s voice drifted off. What was she supposed to say? “A little nervous with a new place and all.”

“Well, pay attention. We don’t have time for your nerves. The alpha will want his dinner at seven sharp. Nothing is worse than a hungry alpha.”

“Right,” Violet said, turning back to the carrots. She tried to peel them as Elanor said she should, but Violet kept taking off chunks of the carrot. She eventually gave up, hoping to go faster. Several times in her attempt to go faster she nicked her fingers. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. When she finished she handed the finished work to the older, grayed woman. The woman sniffed, taking them from her then handed her a tray. “Take this and put it in the oven. In case you’re not smart enough, take out the tray that’s already in their first,” she snapped.

Violet ducked her head with another, “yes, ma’am,” She set the tray on the counter next to the oven. When Violet opened the oven a wave of hot air slammed into her. She recoiled, waving off the air. Her skin prickled with sweat almost immediately. Putting on some oven mitts, or what she hoped were oven mitts, Violet took out the tray setting it on the other side of the counter and grabbing the one the grayed woman gave her. She set it in the oven, but as she reached for the oven door, her arm touched the top part of the inside of the oven. She gasped, pulling her arm to her chest. There was a bright red line on her arm from whatever had burned her. 

Someone closed the door for her. An African-American guy. “Can’t let the heat out,” he said with a bright, wide smile. “Some cold water on that and you’ll be fine.” He nodded to her arm. 

“Thanks,” Violet said, glad someone wasn’t treating her like she was an obstacle in their way.

“I’m Eddie, and no need to be nervous. We’re all cool here.” 

She was about to thank him again when Elanor barked. “Eddie back to work!”

With one final smile, he went back to the stove. Violet ran cold water over the red mark on her arm, feeling some of the pain lessen to her surprise. However, when she took it out from under the cold water the stinging returned. With a hiss, she tugged the sleeve down, hoping no one would see it. If movies got it right, werewolves healed fast. She returned to the cutting board and got to work on the onions. They were a lot harder than the carrots. 

Finally, they had finished dinner and the servers were taking it out to the alphas. The others were sitting around the small table, each with a plate. Violet washed her hands, using it as an excuse to douse her burn again. Elanor walked over to her. “The breakfast shift starts at five in the morning. I want you here and ready for work.” The emphasis on ready made Violet’s face warm. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, though the idea of being up before five in the morning made her wish she had run away as far as she could. “I guess I better get an early night then.”

“You’re not going to eat?” 

Violet glanced at the table where the others sat. Exhausted and worn out, Violet didn’t have the strength to keep up the facade, not even for dinner. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

Elanor gave her a curious look but nodded. “Alright. Go on. Five, here. Ready to work. Lateness will not be tolerated, understand?”

Yet again, Violet nodded. “Yes ma’am.” 

She removed the now food-stained jacket, tossing it where she’d seen the others toss theirs, and left for her room. The urge to cry made her eyes sting. There was no way she fooled them, Violet realized. They had to know she was completely clueless about anything cooking related. She locked her room when she was inside and fell on the bed. She rolled over to her side pulling her knees up to her chest. Violet allowed the tears to come. She couldn’t do this. She had no idea what she was doing. Violet hugged herself as she cried, eventually falling asleep.

There was no rest for her in her dreams. Violet saw her parents die before her over and over again. The blood pooling under her mother, the cruelness in the men’s eyes. Violet woke up with a scream as her mother yet again was shot. Her heart pounded, her cheeks were wet with tears. The unfamiliarity of the room sent a shrill stab of alarm then she remembered where she was. The alpha’s home. The home of the man responsible for her mother’s death. She covered her mouth, stifling another sob then sniffed, and dried her face with her sleeve.

Violet had started to calm down when alarm slammed into her again. The breakfast shift! Crap, she couldn’t be late. Not after the disaster that happened yesterday. She picked up her phone on the nightstand and breathed a sigh of relief. It was fifteen minutes to four. Sighing with exhaustion, Violet leaned back against the wall. She was so tired, but the last thing Violet wanted to do was sleep. She decided to unpack instead. When she opened the suitcase, half of it was filled with those small plastic bottles of light brown liquid. The other half was just enough clothes for her to get by with. She put the clothes away and stashed the bottles in the bottom drawer of the dresser. Except for one, of course. Jeremy had told her to take one every day.

Wrinkling her nose with a sigh, Violet took off the cap and drank it as fast as she could. The taste made her gag and she came close to throwing up, but she managed to stop herself. With a shudder, Violet grabbed a change of clothes and the empty bottle and left her room for the bathroom. Violet expected the bathroom to be horrible since it seemed the servants here were treated little better than slaves. However, she was wrong. While small and not exactly aesthetic, the shower had good pressure and the water stayed warm as Violet tried to wash off the terror of her nightmares.

Elanor seemed pleased when she found Violet in the kitchen, in a fresh jacket, and ready to go.  “Alright everyone, let’s get to work. We’ve got an hour and a half before the house wakes up and needs their breakfast,” Elanor demanded, clapping her hands. “You,” she said, pointing to Violet. “Get the eggs and start whipping them.” Violet nodded, praying to God, this time she wouldn’t mess up so much.