When Lady Hartley returned from her trip she seemed preoccupied. It turned out she had actually been in a health clinic due to some unspecified serious problem. The following day she spoke to Tom's mother about needing more security in her old age. She found it more and more difficult to deal with change. She wanted to be certain that she could rely on certain basics. She wanted the maid to sign a contract to commit to working for her until her death. She was sure that wouldn't be more than a few years.
There was no way that Tom was going to do that, no matter how much his mother tried to talk him into it. So she had to report back to Lady Hartley that it wasn't possible. So Lady Hartley decided to advertise for maids and interview the candidates.
She received dozens of applications and selected the most promising six to interview. When they arrived at the door, Tom had to let them in. He could see the way they looked at his old-fashioned short and flouncy maid's uniform. They clearly wondered were they really going to be required to wear something like that! As he tottered off towards the drawing room in his heels he was sure they could probably see he was wearing stockings and they would certainly observe his ruler-straight seams.
He showed each candidate into the room and introduced them to Lady Hartley. She invited them to sit and Tom curtsied to her before leaving the room. He could see the look of horror on the interviewees face when he curtsied.
None of the interviews lasted very long. He would soon hear the bell tinkle beckoning him in to show the candidate out. He went in and curtsied as the interviewee quickly exited the room in a huff. He could barely keep up in his heels as they hurried to the door, clearly desperate to get out.
As it became clear to him that each candidate was horrified at seeing this incredibly servile and flouncy maid that they were supposed to replace, he tried not to look so ridiculous for the next interviewee. But there was only so much dignity he could try to muster in his poufy short uniform, stockings and high heels. He realized now that he was actually physically incapable of leaving Lady Hartley without curtseying, holding his petticoats out daintily ? he had become so used to it now.
With all the interviews complete, Lady Hartley invited Tom and his mother in to hear her conclusions. "Really! I don't know what the world is coming to. None of them were prepared to wear a uniform and two of them even wanted to wear trousers!" Tom shifted uneasily in his lace-trimmed dress and smoothed down his petticoats nervously.
"None of them were prepared to curtsey! Really, these people don't know their station. Unlike Michelle here." On being addressed Tom automatically curtsied. "Yes Lady Hartley." He looked at the floor in embarrassment as he steadied himself in his high heels.
"Really you must sign a long-term contract for me", she insisted. Tom froze. He couldn't say no to her but there was no way he was committing to being this servile maid for years!
"I will double your pay", she announced, "and your mother will inherit the lodge she lives in when I'm gone, if you sign." His mother was taken aback but clearly attracted to the idea of inheriting the house. She looked at Tom urging him to agree. He was panicking now. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. There was no way he was signing up to being a maid for an indefinite number of years!
"We'll think about it", his mother said standing up. "Thank Lady Hartley for her most generous offer." Tom flinched. He curtsied saying "Thank you Lady Hartley." Then he flounced out of the room as quickly as he could so he could tell his mother in no uncertain terms that he was not signing.
She, of course, wanted the house badly. She badgered him. "She can't possibly live more than a few years." Tom didn't want to spend another day in his corset, petticoats, suspenders and stockings let alone years. "She could live for 10 or 20 years yet", he insisted, "who knows?"
Lady Hartley took a bad turn the next day. The doctor was called. He said she was under stress and needed to relax. His mother used this to argue that she was surely not going to live much longer. Eventually she cajoled Tom into agreeing to sign. He could use his savings from the extra pay to finally go to college.
He flounced into the drawing room and curtsied. Then he sat in the chair at the bureau, smoothing his petticoats carefully around him. He paused before he signed, feeling once more the tightness of his corset, his suspenders tugging at his stocking tops, the petticoats tickling his legs, his sore feet wedged into the high heels and his fluttering false eyelashes. He couldn't believe he was signing up to this for an indefinitely length of time. But he signed.
Lady Hartley immediately looked better and announced that she felt ten years younger with the relief of the stress. Tom cringed as he curtsied and flounced off to get on with the dusting.
That evening his mother gathered his old boy's clothes in a black bin bag. "You'd better throw these out. You won't need them again and we can't risk someone finding them." Tom grimaced as he tottered out in his heels to the bin and sighed as he threw his only pairs of trousers out.