May 20th, 1889 — Devines' Wellingtonshire Home

"I know I've not much experience," Imogen admitted, "but you'll see Mrs. Blishwick herself was quite pleased with my learning, and I've all my credentials." She spoke with the confidence of a girl who belonged there, though she was not quite certain she felt it.

Getting work was the normal way of things after leaving Blishwick's—if one did not already have a position to go to—and was, in her case, particularly pressing. Still, her first interview had not gone as well as the would-be housemaid would have liked, and she was determined that this one would be more successful.

It had to be, or everything she had done would be for naught.

"You'll see I also earned top marks in household charms," she added for good measure. In spite of her age, as a graduate of the school, she had been granted a waiver to allow magic in the course of her duties. That much, Imogen hoped, would be a huge mark in her favour.

Open (probably) to the lady of the house—whoever is hiring staff!

  

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Making hiring decisions and managing household staff was new to Ophelia. In her natal home there hadn't been much staff to speak of: one live-in housekeeper who prepared meals and did some light cleaning, and a nanny before they'd started Hogwarts. After their fourth year at Hogwarts put an end to her formal education, there had been a tutor who visited for lessons, but Ophelia hadn't been at all involved in their procurement or management. In Armando's house there had been a much larger staff — so large that it seemed rather ridiculous to her at first, particularly for one old man living all alone. Armando's proclivity to treat her as a petulant child and not a young woman who would soon be managing a household of her own, however, meant that she had little to do with them, either. The only real decision she'd had to make when she moved in to Mr. Devine's home, which was already furnished and staffed, was who to appoint as her lady's maid — and she had brought Perenia along from Armando's home more out of sentiment and a sense of loyalty to the girl who had helped her get away with so much under his roof, not necessarily because it was a prudent choice.

She should have been shopping around for a wetnurse by now, but alas.

One of the maids that had been with the household before she'd married into it had been slowly but steadily saving up money for her own marriage. She and her beau had enough to rent a modest house in Irvingly, and the date had been set, so Ophelia was out to find her replacement. Not that she knew at all what sort of qualities one looked for in a maid. Having been pulled out of Hogwarts before even her OWL exams, however, Ophelia was not inclined to be overly impressed by grades.

"Mm," she murmured politely. "And what exactly is included under the umbrella of household charms? Folding laundry, sweeping floors? Or more detailed things, like scouring and polishing?" Not that Ophelia would have had the faintest idea how to scour a pot or polish a balustrade, if anyone had asked her.

  

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"A bit of everything if you please, ma'am," she offered almost shyly—though she could not hold Mrs. Devine's gaze for long, she did know of what she was speaking. "Laundry charms in particular, but I can also charm dusters to work on their own, and the same for scrub brushes and their sort. It gets the job done quickly, and, I like to think, well."

Like to think was perhaps an understatement. For all that Imogen lacked entirely a Hogwarts education, she had taken quite swiftly to charmwork and was a deft hand at it. Her skills weren't limited to household charms, either—though she doubted detailing her other parlour tricks would be much of an asset in this particular arena.

"I'm not so good with the fine needlework," she admitted sheepishly, "but I expect in a house so grand as this, you'll have a lady's maid anyways."

Ophelia Devine

  

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That seemed... fine. Everything she'd mentioned regarding household charms was something that maids were required to do, and Ophelia didn't really know enough about their specific duties to see any glaring holes in her qualifications. Some people had maids that didn't even own wands, so surely any amount of magical assistance was better than none? And if those households could get by with only a few people who knew any spellwork, hers could, as well. Besides, what was the worst that could happen if they hired her? She didn't work out, and the butler sent her packing, with no reference — it was hardly a loss for Ophelia.

"Of course I have a lady's maid, but there will be some sewing," she explained. "Not on a regular basis, but occasionally — hemming curtains or repairing pillows, that sort of thing. But I imagine someone could help with those if you're really struggling," she said with an apathetic half-shrug. It made no difference to her who hemmed curtains, or what the stitching looked like on them when they were done, so long as they were straight. If she ever had guests over and they were noticing the unevenness of the stitches on the bottoms of her curtains, well — that would be her fault, as a hostess, not the maid's.

"Are you planning to live-in, or do you have family you'd prefer to stay with?" she asked. Ophelia had a strong preference for the former; one never knew when work might come up, and having to send one's servants home at a certain hour seemed very middle-class to her. It wasn't the way she thought a household like this ought to run. They ought never to be short staffed — even at two in the morning, should anything come up that needed doing.

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   Imogen Fox

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"Oh, live-in, Ma'am," she answered quickly, allowing herself—though only for a moment—to think that this was actually going well, to think she might be about to secure a job. When the lady had mentioned that there would be a need for sewing, Imogen had felt her breath catch, but the conversation had moved on so swiftly that she suspected it would not be as much of an issue as she had worried.

"I've a room in a boarding house for now, but Missus Blickwick always says that a good servant is a nearby servant."

Ophelia Devine

  

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"Mrs. Blickwick is quite correct," Ophelia said approvingly. There were a myriad of benefits to having live-in servants, she thought. Having them close at hand was only the most material consideration. It also inspired something of a sense of loyalty and camaraderie amongst the servants, Ophelia believed, to have them all just down the hall from each other. A maid who lived with her employers would be less likely to steal, for one thing, since she'd have to squirrel her contraband away in her room instead of spiriting it away to the outside world every evening. Other issues of morality were similarly affected — a maid who lived in the servants' quarters would run into a good deal of difficulty in getting herself unexpectedly pregnant, for instance. It had never been relevant in Ophelia's personal life, but she had heard plenty of stories of servants being dismissed for those or similar reasons.

"Your qualifications seem quite correct," Ophelia said, setting aside the letter from the Blickwick school. "The next matter is one of personality — whether you'll fit in with the existing staff. I know you don't have employment references, but do you have any character references? Friends or family would do," she said. She did not anticipate that this would be problematic. Anyone could find someone who thought highly of them — but it might be telling to see who she selected for the task, and what adjectives they used in describing her.

  

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Imogen felt her whole body tense at the suggestion. Of course, the witch supposed, she should have expected such a thing, but, naively, had assumed that the letter from the school would suffice.

After remaining quiet for a moment too long, Imogen offered carefully, "My family, Ma'am, they died a few years back."

She looked down at her hands before moving her gaze back to Mrs. Devine—or, more accurately, a space just beside her shoulder.

"What money I inherited I put into my time at Blishwick's. My attention, too," she gave a small shrug. "Everything's gone into bettering myself."

With any luck, Imogen thought, Mrs. Devine would take pity on her, would give her a probationary go. She knew it would be impudent to suggest it herself.

  

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Ophelia had a fairly good impression of the girl so far, but the long silence before she answered made her wonder if she'd misjudged. It should not, after all, have been a difficult question.

When she did answer, however, Ophelia softened considerably. She attributed the awkward silence to grief — and quite understandably, given what had followed. She knew something of that herself, as a girl who had somehow ended up with her closest relation being an ancestor of over two hundred whom she had never met before being shipped off to be his ward. If she hadn't had Armando, she might have ended up very similarly to this poor creature — might have drifted down instead of up the societal ladder and found herself working for her daily bread.

She was too sensitive to the girl's predicament to make any inquiries into how her family had died, or how long ago. "Quite an admirable thing," she said softly. "Would you like a tour of the house, Miss Fox?"

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   Imogen Fox

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The blossoming feeling of dread in her bosom dissipated, as though it had never been there, at the question. References would be forgotten. A tour of the house. Imogen knew she could scarcely have hoped for more.

"I should like one very much, Ma'am," she answered gratefully, "but I shouldn't wish to be a bother."

Then again, Imogen realized, it was likely the existing staff were busy working. She should not give the impression that she was more important than their daily tasks—tasks that she would soon be joining them in, with only a pinch more luck.

"If you're certain it would be no trouble, though," Imogen concluded.

  

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"Not at all," Ophelia said dismissively, rising and approaching the wall where a pull cord connected magically to a bell in another room. "Mrs. Dansworth, the head housekeeper, can show you through and go through your daily duties in more detail. Abigail — the girl you'll be replacing — is with us for another week, so you can begin by shadowing her. Assuming you're a good fit for the position," she continued, "You can move in to her room when she vacates it. I assume your boarding house leases monthly, so that should help you avoid paying for June."

  

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A genuine, unbridled smile found itself on her lips as she rose to her feet, dipping into a small curtsy.

"Thank you very much—you really are too kind!"

  

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