On a cold night in the countryside, snow lightly began to cover the stone walkway to a bustling mansion. An alluring glow from the enormous old home cast warm light on the hectic valets as they ran with salt buckets and ice scrapers, preparing for the worst. Rare and expensive cars lined the long driveway, each parked with immaculate care, perfection clearly expected by the hosts and guests alike.
Smoke billowed out of multiple chimneys, and live music could be heard faintly in the courtyard as the valets began to salt the path, intent on having no guests roll an ankle on their watch. The music got louder as two massive doors opened, all of the valets stopping in their tracks to look towards the mansion in fear and anticipation. They instantly began working again once they realized it was only Charles St. Dimsworth, the longest tenured servant and head butler of Maergus Haus. He was dressed in a magnificent waistcoat, his hands gloved in white satin. His hair was prim and he had the smallest mustache trimmed precisely above his lips. His shoes were polished to such an incredible shine that you could hear a chime as the light gleamed off of them.
“Look sharp, the lot of you. Dessert is nigh on complete, and Lord Maergus has it that the weather will only continue to worsen. I see that you have begun the salting, good on you, but prepare for a stampede of restless guests wanting to leave before the skies curse the roads with a blizzard,” said Charles, his voice proper and dignified.
“Yes sir,” the valets said in unison, not looking away from their work.
Charles St. Dimsworth lifted his head into the air, lips jutted out, and nodded approvingly, quickly turning back towards the manse. He nearly slipped, but put his palm on a statue of a lion and balanced himself. He cautiously eyed the valets, making sure nobody had seen his gaffe. When he felt comfortable that nobody had, he slowly extended his arm fully out, and slowly pointed downward with his index finger. “More salt towards the door, please and thank you!”
After entering the manor, the butler shut the large double doors and tended to the entryway fireplace, poking at it and adding a white birch log to the blaze with golden tongs. As he began to straighten his tie, a shrill glass bell began to ring in another room. His eyes focused, his composure adjusted, and he glided towards the beckoning call.
He entered the parlor, a grand room with oaken walls laden with famous works of art. Guests dotted the sitting areas, finishing their desserts, laughing over wine, sharing a kiss by the raging grand fireplace. He walked directly past them all gracefully towards the bell ringer, the Lady of Maergus Haus. Her eyebrows raised at the site of the butler and she craned her neck, motioning to the back of the parlor. “Consular Windham is surrounded by dirty plates. Please remedy this at once!” the Lady let out with a sharp whisper.
“Right away, my lady,” the butler said with a calming tone, already three steps closer to the crowded Consular.
While he walked with great haste and a singular focus, Charles St. Dimsworth quickly looked towards the wall and saw Tansby Willhide, another butler. He raised his arm into the air and snapped twice, getting her attention and then pointing with an extended hand towards the Consular, silently ordering her to help him with the mess. She picked up on his request, but paused a second longer than he appreciated before she also set out to help. Charles seemed unperturbed, despite his eyes squinting for less than half a second.
Charles allowed himself a swift glance towards the window to check on the weather, and was demoralized at the site of heavy snowfall. The guests needed to start leaving, lest they be stranded at the manse and left to his care. The Maergus family was enough to take care of as it was, especially after a busy soiree. He shook off his thoughts and returned all focus to the Consular. “Good evening, Lord-Consular Windham, my sincerest apologies for the untidiness around your excellence. May we get you more dessert, another drink perhaps?” the butler said, beginning to stack plates in his arms.
Tansby also was gathering plates, and bent down to reach a stray maraschino cherry by Charles’ feet. The Consular scoffed, annoyed and embarrassed to even be addressed by someone as lowly as a butler. “A drink then, servant,” the Consular said without taking a second glance.
“Right away, Lord-Consul- ahhhh!” began Charles, before tripping forward and spilling the pile of dirty plates towards the Consular.
Tansby jumped in front of the plates with her arms and legs outstretched, taking the brunt of the mess. A loud explosion of shattering china and bouncing silverware erupted, followed by an unbearable silence. One small piece of salted caramel cheesecake had landed on the Consular’s black leather boot, and he looked down at it, then brought his head back up, closing his eyes with a genuine look of hatred at the butler’s folly. Tansby stood, still outstretched, mouth agape, looking down at the horrible mess of smears and scraps that covered her usually flawless black livery.
Charles St. Dimsworth, head butler with over 40 years of tenure at Maergus Haus, had never been more humiliated. He had no idea why this was happening to him, or what was going to come next. Always the first responder, he had to think of something, and quickly. His arm jutted upward, four snaps loudly clacking off his fingertips. “W-Willow! Bring the kit, POSTHASTE!” He said with a raised, yet not concerned voice.
It was utterly silent, all eyes on the butler and Consular, until a small boy ran, his footsteps echoing over the marble floors. Clutching a wooden box to his chest, the boy sprinted, his blond hair combed beautifully to the side, and a black silk patch over his left eye. “You look in a rough state mistah Dimswerf, sir! Oy, let's get some valets over here, on the double!” The boy shouted with confidence.
Willow dropped the wooden box, unfastened the hinges, and opened the compartments. He pulled out an immaculate white rag, and smeared off the cheesecake from the Consular’s boot. He then began oiling and scrubbing the boot with one of the finest shoe polishes available, making the boot appear newer than the day it was soled. As he finished, a group of stunned valets began cleaning the mess of plates, dessert and forks that had littered the parlor. One of the valets guided the filthy Tansby Willhide out, shielding her face from the utter embarrassment. Before she left, she looked down at Dimsworth, still on the floor, and smirked, silently uttering the words, “It's over.”
Dimsworth realized now that she had betrayed him. He looked towards his polished shoes and saw the laces tied together, her fateful trap. The maraschino cherry still lay by his feet, a mocking reminder of her treachery. Willow ran to his shoes and untied them before anyone noticed, and helped the butler to his feet. “Nasty trick, Mr. Dimswerf, I knew you’d never make a mistake like this,” Willow whispered as he pulled him up.
Just as Charles was going to beg for forgiveness and explain what had happened, Lady Maergus appeared and clutched the butler’s ear, gripping as hard as she physically could. “That is enough out of you, Dimsworth! To the kitchens with you, I’m sure there are many dishes to be done. You’ll be serving as a kitchen boy under Old Robin now, and following her orders with care. And if I hear one word of complaint, a single look of contempt, you will be dismissed from this manor at once. Now off with you, and by God’s grace may you learn some respect,” said the Lady Maergus, shoving his head and releasing his ear.
As Lady Maergus ran to tend to the Consular and shower him with flattery and apologies, Charles mechanically walked step by step towards the kitchens. His face was that of a man who lost everything in an instant, his eyes as emotionless and empty as a clubbed fish. He couldn’t hear anything, just a high pitch ringing in his ear as if he was too near an explosion. His mouth was wide and drooling as his feet began to angle inward, pigeonlike. He thought of his years of service, the power he had achieved, the staff he managed… The same staff that was now sneering at him as he walked by, their teeth sharp as they silently celebrated his fall from grace.
As he entered the kitchen, Tansby was cleaning herself off by the hand sink. Charles felt rage swell up inside, but had to suppress it, for fear that he’d be exiled from the house if he made any more mistakes. “Well look here, if it isn’t the new kitchen boy! At Maergus Haus, we have to work EXTREMELY hard to earn a promotion, so we’ll be putting you to the test, day in and day out! Speaking of promotions, Lord Maergus has informed me that because of my courageous actions, I will be the new head butler, and the entire staff, including you, will be serving at my behest. No need to worry, you will be losing the king sized butler suite, all of your belongings have been tossed outside for now. While I greatly enjoy my new luxurious room, you will be sleeping on the hay in the boiler room. Now then, Old Robin will escort you to the dish pile. Enjoy!” Tansby said, walking away with a big smile.
The kitchen staff began a thunderous applause, laughing and stomping their feet as they spit at the new kitchen boy. Old Robin grabbed Charlie’s throbbing ear and yanked him towards the sink. “I’ll call you Dimmy in here, dishrat. There is no time for you to change into your burlap uniform, so you can remain in your livery for the night. Tonight’s stack will be nothing compared to the breakfast rush, Lord Maergus has it that nearly all of the guests will have to stay the night due to the blizzard, so I’ll need you up and ready to wash at 4’oclock in the morning. NOW GET STARTED, DISHRAT,” roared Old Robin in her gravelly voice.
Charles scrubbed his hands raw, scalded them with boiling dishwater, and worked late into the night. He finished around 3am, having only an hour to sleep before he’d be back to work in the kitchens. He crawled to the boiler room, curled up in the hay, and instantly fell asleep, miserably tired from the torment he experienced. Twenty minutes later, he was awake again as a pipe burst and scalded his foot, spraying squealing hot steam into the room. He wrapped his fine waistcoat around the pipe, and was unable to fall back asleep because of the pain. He changed into his itchy burlap uniform, which was more of a smock, and drooped his way to the kitchens.
…
After being worked relentlessly for a week, he finally had a moment to catch a break. He had arranged to meet the shoeshiner Willow, and begged the boy to tell everyone that Tansby had caused this whole mess, that she had tied his shoelaces together. “Beggin’ your pardon mistah Dimswerf, or Dimmy, if you prefer. But yous yourself told me not to go gossiping about this house, that it was below our stature! I can’t be going against your own advice, now can I?” Willow said, fiddling with the strap to his eyepatch.
Charles didn’t have any more fight in him, he was resigned to this fate, the boy was right. He started to slither back towards the kitchens, when Willow excitedly grabbed him by the burlap. “Mistah Dimswerf, mistah Dimswerf! What about your holiday!? You said you had a few weeks of holiday pay lined up! I even kept your nice burgundy suit, it was the only thing you owned that didn’t get destroyed in the blizzard! Go on, mistah Dimswerf, take that holiday!”
Charles let out a huge sob, and patted the boy on the head. How could he have forgotten his holiday pay? He immediately made his request, and because these were modern times and the Maergus family weren’t barbaric, he was granted a two week paid holiday. As he had free room and board without a holiday for most of his life, Charles was actually quite a wealthy man, and had saved millions of Pounds during his time as head butler. He booked his vacation, cleaned himself up, and called a cab to the airport.
When he arrived at this destination, The Seven Seas Casino and Resort, he walked in with extreme confidence. His burgundy velvet blazer caught the multitude of twinkling lights and looked as if it was flowing as he strutted towards the slot machines. A beautiful waitress asked what he’d like to drink, and he ordered an Old Fashioned, then sat down at the first slot machine he could see. The casino had provided a lanyard and card that was connected to his account, and he placed his first bet and pulled the lever. The machine whirled, clinked, and stopped on 7-7-7. It then burst into a loud celebratory song and told him he’d won over seven grand.
The waitress walked over and set down his drink, and smiled with excitement. “Wow, look at you, first pull of the night and you’re already a jackpot winner! What incredible luck,” the waitress exclaimed.
Charles was astonished, filled with excitement, and for the first time ever, considered leaving the Maergus Haus for good and settling down in his own retirement. He already had millions, afterall. “I say, it is incredible luck, isn’t it!” Charles said with glee in his voice, already pressing his card against the machine again to make another play.
“Ohh my gosh, I love your accent! Are you from London-Town?” The waitress said giddily.
“Well, not exactly London, uhm, Town, but not too far-” Charles began, cut off when he looked towards his Old Fashioned cocktail and saw a maraschino cherry sitting at the top. His mind went numb, fear and hatred, terror and agony, every emotion of Tansby’s betrayal flooding into his mind from that single cherry nestled between two ice cubes. The waitress looked at him, confused, and began to walk away. He snapped out of it, and reached out apologetically, accidentally pulling the lever on the slot machine once again. It whirred, clinked, and showed him two lemons and a bar, worth absolutely nothing.
“Oooh, bad luck brother, that's everything you had,” an old smokey man said, coughing at him.
Charles St. Dimsworth looked at the “credits” line on the machine, and saw it read 0. In a single moment of error, the ex-butler had accidentally bet every penny he’d earned at Maergus Haus. He was a husk of a man at that point, and slid out of the chair onto the ground, knocking the drink down over his head. He stared blankly at the maraschino cherry while he awaited whatever would come next. Deep in the depths of the Seven Seas Casino and Resort, the owners bucked their legs up and down into the air like donkeys, hollering and roaring at the incredible fortune that blessed them on this lovely evening.
