Every few days as a writing exercise, I write little character studies based on pictures and drawings of people. Some of them are awful and should never see the light of day. Others end up tickling me. 'Agnes the Maid' is one those, so I figured I'd put it up. So, here is 'Agnes the Maid', a character study I did from an Edward Gorey drawing of a masculine looking maid with a serious feather duster.
Agnes the Maid
No one wielded a feather duster like Agnes. The authority with which she commanded feathers shoved into a stick was truly terrifying. Even the mistress stayed out of her way, not daring to test the mantles after Agnes had been through.
Agnes had had hopes as a girl, hopes that had been dashed quite early in her career as a person. But her Great Disappointment, though acute, had not resulted in bitterness or even brittle acceptance, as disappointments can. In fact, Agnes appeared to be a perfectly well-balanced specimen of the female in service - except for when she dusted and the entire household took cover.
Agnes was a solid sort of woman. Even as a girl in the first blush of youth, there had been little of the girl and less of blush about her. She was made of far-too-serious stuff for that, with her unsmiling line of a mouth and her shoulders squared off like a coat rack. And so, as one could have easily predicted, young Agnes had not grown up to become a beautiful woman. Rather, one might have called her handsome, almost, though honestly no one did. She was far too serious to physically contemplate - rather like an obelisk, except perhaps a bit more firm.
One can never tell much about a maid from what she wears, for she wears what she is told to wear. One can tell, however, a great deal from the carriage with which she wears it. Agnes wore her uniform with authority and martial precision, somehow endowing the ruffled cap on her head with a sort of austerity, as if the cap knew itself to be too frilly, and so had shrunk down into itself in shame. The rest she carried with a militaristic bearing -- a holdover from her father, who had been a sergeant in the Boer War. That Agnes had ended up in domestic service was the Great Disappointment of her life. As a girl she had wanted to join the cavalry and go to war like her father. She had cried for hours and hours (the last time in her life that she'd cried), when her father had informed her that daughters did not join the cavalry and even if they did, his would certainly not. It would have been infantry all the way for her, none of that prancing about on horses. Agnes liked horses, but got over it.
Agnes's efficiency in domestic service had quickly raised her through the ranks of the household staff. She'd become head housemaid after a few short years, and rumor held her to be in line to replace Mrs. Dandy as housekeeper when she retired. Agnes, though not normally one to heed idle gossip, felt this to be true. She was a nearly perfect servant. Her only flaw was the aggression with which she dusted the house -- as if she were spitting on enemy armies before sweeping them away. But then, nothing ever broke and nothing ever moved, so who could really complain? Her style may have alarmed people, but one could call it un-thorough. And so she continued on, channeling her Great Disappointment into the daily dusting while the rest of the household closed their eyes.
