Work Text:
I was talking about the importance of dignity to defining a great butler. There was one occasion which tried my dignity in a particularly strange way.
After the episode in my pantry, I took special care for some time to know the whereabouts of the rest of the household. This was in a sense an extension of my usual responsibilities, but up to that time I had never included Miss Kenton so nearly in this ongoing mental survey. I had, you understand, delegated to Miss Kenton the supervision of the female staff, including herself. After she entered my pantry so unexpectedly, however, and insisted upon discovering the book I was reading, I reconsidered my approach to these matters. If Miss Kenton felt free to violate my privacy, then there was nothing for it but increased vigilance.
It was not difficult to increase my watchfulness. I found that soon I was as aware of Miss Kenton’s daily schedule as that of Lord Darlington. She rose as early as I did, and there were hours every morning when those moving about in the household numbered only Miss Kenton, myself, and the kitchen maid conducting the first preparatory tasks of the day. It was easy, then, to notice when Miss Kenton did not rise at her usual hour.
I had no professional reason to become concerned, but this seemed to me like an opportunity to communicate an important point. I prepared a cup of coffee, carried it to her door, and discreetly knocked.
For a moment there was silence, and then the sound of someone clearing her throat, and a soft, uncertain, “Good morning?”
“Miss Kenton,” I said, “you appear to have overslept.”
It was not immediately clear I would receive an answer to this. The corridor on which Miss Kenton’s room was located was rather dim, and the bedrooms faced north, so that there was no strong morning light to awaken the residents; they relied instead on clocks, routine, and one another to begin their days on time. No light came through the gap under the door, so there were no shadows that could have indicated whether anyone were moving about inside the room. It occurred to me that the coffee I had brought up would not remain hot for very long; the cup was leaching its warmth into my hands and the cool air of the hallway, and so I thought it prudent to press the point a little. “I wished only to ascertain that all was well; please do let me know if there is anything you require.”
“Mr Stevens,” said Miss Kenton’s voice slowly, “I do not believe I asked for wake-up service.” I thought I recognized an attempt at humour, and I was looking for a suitable response when she added, “Nor did I oversleep.”
“Nevertheless, you have missed the opportunity for the morning’s first cup of coffee,” I said. “I will leave it here for you outside the door.” In those days we had sufficient staff that the floors were always free of dust. “I trust we will have the opportunity to speak during the course of the day,” I said, and I departed.
Miss Kenton appeared downstairs before much more time had passed, and she made no reference to our morning’s conversation. The cup I had brought her turned up as well, washed and drying on the sideboard, and I was too late to determine whether the coffee had been drunk or discarded. I thought she looked a little ill or distracted, but did not think it appropriate to ask any questions on the subject while other members of the staff were present. If there were some matter that she needed to discuss, I trusted we would have the opportunity to discuss it at our evening meeting.
She must truly have been ill, however, for she begged off of that meeting and retired early. I found myself with extra time in my pantry, and was not able to concentrate sufficiently to read.
—
It was surprising, then, to find that Miss Kenton arose late the following morning as well. Taking this together with her early night, I started to suspect that she was truly ill. She had never been a person who required a great deal of sleep. I thought to reprise my attempt with the coffee, thinking that I had established something of a precedent.
“Miss Kenton,” I said, “you appear to have overslept once again.”
Her response this time came sooner, and she sounded puzzled. “Again, Mr Stevens?”
“This is two mornings in sequence that you have not appeared downstairs at your customary time. I hope you have not taken ill.”
“Mr Stevens,” she said slowly, “I am not sure to what you are referring. I may have taken a few minutes of time to myself this morning, but every other morning this week I have begun my day at the same time as I generally do.”
It was alarming that she should so soon have forgotten our exchange in this very spot the previous morning, but I did not see my way clear to saying so. “Miss Kenton,” I said instead, “I have brought you a cup of coffee. Please advise whether I ought to leave it here for you or if I may hand it to you myself.”
There was a sound from inside the room that seemed to express surprise, and a moment later the door opened to reveal Miss Kenton, dressed to her usual standard of tidiness, although looking perhaps a little pale. “Why,” she said, “you truly did bring me coffee.”
I offered it to her and, finding nothing else to say, nodded my head and made my departure.
The day proceeded much as the days at Darlington Hall usually did. Indeed, it proceeded exactly like the day before. I was accustomed to routine by this time, but as the day passed on I noted more and more circumstances aligning in exactly the same way as they had done yesterday. Miss Kenton remained either slightly ill or slightly distracted, and I remained unable to determine which; the light broke through the clouds at exactly the same time as I was serving tea to Mr Darlington in the library; and, most remarkably, the dinner menu was the same as the previous day. I asked the cook if there had been some surfeit that needed to be eaten up, and whether it would more appropriately have been used for the servants’ meal rather than giving Lord Darlington the same dinner two nights in a row; but she reacted with such astonishment that I found myself unable to conclude the interview, and withdrew with an apology.
Miss Kenton once again retired early.
—
On the third morning she did not appear at her usual hour, I began to pay closer attention to the general circumstances of the day. I took some time, for example, to examine the morning’s paper before preparing it for Lord Darlington, and I found that it bore a date I had taken to be two days past.
Miss Kenton did not appear at her usual hour. I brought up the cup of coffee as I had done twice before, and when she told me she had not requested a wake-up call, I asked, “Miss Kenton, may I open the door?”
“I hardly see the necessity, Mr Stevens.”
“I assure you I have a reason, but you need only say the word if you are not prepared to be seen.”
“I am dressed, Mr Stevens, but that is not the same thing. Do you have such urgent business it can’t wait until I come down to the kitchen?”
“It is not precisely business, Miss Kenton, but I think I may fairly say it is reasonably urgent.”
“What on earth,” she said, at such a low volume I was not certain that she intended for me to hear, and then there were footsteps crossing the floor and she had opened the door to see what urgency had brought me to her.
I handed her the cup of coffee, bowed, and the day proceeded.
—
The next day I was a little bolder: “Miss Kenton, may I come in?”
She was certainly startled at that, but I was confident by now that I would not find her abed or in a state of undress, and I pushed the door open with the quietness I had developed over long years in my profession. She was sitting in her chair by the window, holding a letter she had plainly been reading by the meager light it afforded her.
I did not quite know what to say, having found myself in a circumstance rather unfamiliar to me, and having now used up my knowledge of these first moments of the day. It is possible I felt some personal satisfaction at having entered into a novel circumstance after the past few days’ repetition.
“I have brought you some coffee,” I told her, and she looked fairly astonished as I set it down on her little table. “I trust you are well?”
“Quite well,” she said faintly, and made no attempt to prevent me from leaving.
I found, once I was within her chamber, that I needed some excuse to explain my having entered. I could hardly say my curiosity had been growing over the course of several days, as I suspected that she would no more understand this than the cook had understood my remonstrance over the menu.
“Miss Kenton,” I said instead. “I hope you will forgive my impertinence in seeking you out here.” I stopped short, uncertain how to complete my speech. “It is only that I wished to know whether you were well,” I finished, inadequately.
—
“It is only that I wish to know you are well,” I finished the next day, little better.
“Perfectly well,” she said, distracted.
—
“It is only that I wish, always, to know that you are well,” I said, some seven iterations hence.
“Mr Stevens,” she said. “I have never before seen you blush.”
—
As I was saying, this episode tested my commitment to dignity. I do not suppose that, without it, I would have gained quite as much facility with managing dignity in the personal realm. Miss Kenton claims she does not believe that the entirety of this episode occurred as I have recounted it here; but I have made plain to her in the years since that things would have been quite different between us had I not had the opportunity to have my time again, and to rehearse my approach that morning quite so many times. Practice, she admits, makes perfect. On this we can agree; as we can these days, happily, on many other things.