Chapter One: The Interview

If I had known that my first week of employment would end with me tied to a mahogany table wearing nothing but a frilly apron and three kilos of Stilton, I probably would have stayed at the job centre. I might have even considered that retraining course in sewage management. At least with sewage, you know where you stand.

My name is Penny Plumb. And despite what the local tabloids eventually printed, I am not a "dairy-based fetishist". I’m a housekeeper. I dust, I polish, and I get stains out of carpets. I do not usually become the centerpiece.

It all started on a Tuesday. My last employer, a frantic woman with six chihuahuas and a weak bladder, had moved to the coast, leaving me jobless and rent-adjacent. So when I saw the ad in the Local Gazette—"Respectable Country Manor seeks Sturdy, Open-Minded Maid. Must appreciate Tradition and Heavy Lifting. Cheese enthusiasts preferred"—I circled it in red pen.

"Sturdy" is polite code for "not a stick insect," which suits me fine. I’ve got what my mother calls "child-bearing hips" and what I call "a center of gravity that withstands a stiff breeze".

I took the bus out to Fortescue Manor. The place looked like it had been built by a drunk architect and then forgotten about by God. It was a sprawling, gothic monstrosity of crumbling stone, overgrown ivy, and windows that squinted suspiciously at the driveway.

I was shown into the library by Mrs. Hardrind, the housekeeper. She was a woman carved out of granite and polished with vinegar. She gave me a look that suggested I was a stain she’d missed, then shoved me through a pair of double doors.

Inside, two men were arguing over a wedge of Brie.

"It’s sweating, Arthur! Look at it! It’s positively perspiring!" shouted the shorter, red-faced man on the right. This was Colonel Bernard Crumplebottom.

"It’s breathing, Bernard. It’s alive!" retorted the taller man, who resembled a startled heron in a tweed suit. This was my future employer, Lord Arthur Fortescue.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me. I’m here for the position."

They both jumped. Lord Arthur dropped the cheese knife.

"Ah! The applicant!" Arthur beamed, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Come in, come in. Don't mind the smell; that’s just the Époisses de Bourgogne. It has a bouquet like a gym sock, but it tastes like heaven".

I stepped forward, clutching my handbag. "Penny Plumb, sir. I have references".

"Plumb," Arthur mused, looking me up and down. "Good name. Round. Sound." He turned to the Colonel. "What do you think, Bernard? She has excellent posture. Very... horizontal potential".

I frowned. "I beg your pardon?".

"For the dusting!" Arthur said quickly, flushing pink. "High shelves. Low skirting boards. Requires flexibility. Tell me, Miss Plumb, how are you with knots?".

"Knots, sir?"

"Yes, knots. Sailors' knots, sheepshanks, that sort of thing. We have... old curtains. Very tricky tie-backs".

"I was a Girl Guide, sir. I can tie a reef knot".

The Colonel whispered loudly to Arthur, "A Girl Guide, Arthur! Disciplined. Obedient. Perfect".

I was starting to get a creeping feeling that I should leave, but then I remembered my empty bank account. "Is there much heavy lifting involved? The ad mentioned it".

"Oh, yes," Arthur nodded solemnly. "We take our dining very seriously here, Miss Plumb. Sometimes, the presentation requires... structural support. We need a maid who doesn't faint at the sight of a complex arrangement. Are you ticklish?".

"Sir?"

"If a grape rolled down your arm, would you flinch?"

"I... suppose not?"

"Excellent!" Arthur clapped his hands. "And finally, the most important question. Do you harbor any moral objections to dairy products being used in non-traditional environments?".

I stared at him. "I put milk in my tea, sir".

"Close enough!" Arthur declared. "You're hired. Start tomorrow. Uniform is provided—though we may need to make some... alterations for the Saturday feast".

He shook my hand with a grip that was surprisingly firm for a man who seemed made entirely of elbows. As I walked out, I heard the Colonel mutter, "She’s perfect, Arthur. With a bit of twine and the right garnish, she’ll be the talk of the county".

I thought they meant I’d be serving the food. I really, really should have asked more questions about the garnish.