Daniel
It all started in the summer of 1922. I was working for a Lord in the heart of London. Lord George Brooks had employed me six years prior as a footman. I worked hard and played by their rules, so when the butler, Arthur, was dismissed two months ago, I was promoted to his position. I became the youngest butler in central London—of that, I was certain. It was an immense privilege and an honor. The Lord trusted me and held me in high regard, and I wanted to do everything within my power to meet, or even exceed, his expectations.
I had always been a perfectionist, which earned me the respect of the other staff members as well. On this particular day, I woke up at half past six as usual. After completing my morning routine, I went down to the kitchen at seven. The others were already working diligently, preparing the tea trays and breakfast.
"Good morning," I said as I pushed open the door.
"Good morning, Mr. Tucker," they all replied, barely lifting their faces from their tasks.
I was still not entirely used to this "Mr. Tucker" business. Everyone had called me Daniel for six years, but the promotion came with certain protocols, whether I liked it or not.
"Is everything running smoothly today?"- I asked.
"Yes, all well, sir," said Charlie, the new footman who had been promoted into my old place. He had worked as a valet before, but he thoroughly deserved this new role, just as I did. While the two of us had worked harder than ever over the past years, Mr. Wilkes, the previous butler, had been busy drinking Lord Brooks’s wine, eating his finest food, and stealing his belongings. Charlie still had to adapt to his new position, much like myself, but he was well on his way.
"Mrs. Thomas, how is breakfast progressing?"
"It will be ready when they come down, as usual, Mr. Tucker."
"Very good. Lucy?"
"The tea trays are ready. I shall begin serving in ten minutes."
"Great. Adam, what about the shoes?"
"I’ve cleaned them all, Mr. Tucker."
"Excellent. Charlie, supervise them once the tea has been served."
"Of course, Mr. Tucker."
"Mary? Did you attend to Miss Amy’s room? You know she arrives after eleven."
"Yes, I know, Mr. Tucker. The room is quite ready."
"Lucy, inspect it after breakfast."
"Of course, sir."
"Here is your tea, Mr. Tucker."
"Thank you. Everything must go flawlessly today. Tonight will be the first grand dinner party since I became butler. We cannot afford any mistakes."
"Everything will be perfect, Mr. Tucker."
"The decorations?"
"We have everything we need. We shall decorate the dining room and the drawing room after luncheon."
"The food?"
"It will be magnificent, as always."
"That is what I expect. You are the finest cook on the street, Mrs. Thomas; I am certain there will be no issues. The drinks?"
"We have stocked everything they could possibly desire."
"Splendid. The guests will arrive after seven. We shall serve dinner at eight o'clock. Have I missed anything?"
"No, Mr. Tucker. Everything will be marvelous. Miss Amy deserves the very best."
"On that, we can certainly agree. Everyone must be in their finest livery by half past six. I shall be inspecting everyone’s appearance myself."
Shortly after, Lucy served tea to the children, and I served Lord Brooks.
Upon my return, Charlie stopped me in the hallway. He pulled me into the shadow of the back staircase, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder toward the main hall.
"Hey, Daniel," he whispered urgently, keeping his voice strictly low. "Are you quite all right? You are even more high-strung than usual."
"Very funny," I muttered back in a sharp whisper, checking the corridor myself. "It is just that this party is exceptionally important. I expect everyone to perform at their absolute best."
"Is it because it is Miss Amy’s welcome-home party?" Charlie asked with a knowing smirk, leaning closer so his words wouldn't carry.
"That is merely the occasion. But yes, I am nervous."
"I know. You are always practically jumping out of your skin whenever she comes home."
"Is it really that obvious to everyone?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat as I nervously smoothed down my waistcoat.
"I don't think so. You have been the best at concealing your emotions. But I know you quite well"
"And how exactly am I supposed to be feeling?"
"You are head over heels for her," Charlie hissed under his breath, keeping a watchful eye on the upper landing.
"What? I am not," I whispered defensively, though my cheeks burned.
"Daniel, quiet down! I am not the Lord; you do not have to deny it to me," Charlie warned, gesturing for me to lower my voice further. "You check everything three times instead of twice whenever it concerns her. You always seek out opportunities to assist her or to strike up a conversation. And you act positively jealous whenever she brings a gentleman here. You want something to happen between the two of you; you might as well admit it."
"Nonsense," I replied, my voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. "I would never dare to dream of her in such a manner. I simply... I have not heard from her since Christmas. I wish to be certain she is well. I know she has a... complicated relationship with the Lord. I do not wish for them to quarrel again."
Charlie shook his head, keeping his eyes glued to the hallway entrance. "It will be the same as always. The Miss will want to involve herself in the business, and the Lord will shut her out, using her merely as a beautiful ornament to attract wealthy noblemen."
"Yes. Lord Brooks does not take her seriously," I agreed softly.
"So that is truly all you are worrying about?" Charlie murmured, nudging my shoulder. "Not that the young lady might bring home some handsome aristocrat as her fiancé?"
"She attends a school strictly for young ladies, so that is highly unlikely. Though, sooner or later, she will marry someone."
"And you do not care for the thought of it."
"There is nothing I can do about it."
"You ought to open your eyes, mate," Charlie whispered, offering a small shrug. "There is that new maid over at the Fierce household. She is absolutely gorgeous."
"I am not attracted to those kinds of girls."
"Who? Maids?"
"No," I replied in a hushed, firm tone. "The kind of girls who are entirely content with a life of domestic service. Those who are perfectly satisfied with being a maid, marrying, and having children. I want someone who reads, who develops her mind, who always strives to better herself."
"Like Miss Amy?"
"Ha, very amusing," I hissed, signaling him to wrap up our conversation before someone walked in on us. "As if she would ever look at a fellow like me. Perhaps there is simply no one out there for me."
"You ought to search a little harder," Charlie muttered one last time as he prepared to step out back into the open hallway. "There are girls—well, perhaps not as fabulous as Miss Amy, but certainly suitable. Half the girls who step over our threshold would have you. You only need to choose."
In truth, I was not playing the modest gentleman. I knew I possessed some good qualities, and certain maids, or even noblewomen, had shown interest or made propositions to me in the past. But the reality—which Charlie likely suspected, though no one else knew—was that I did not merely admire Miss Amy from afar. I was deeply, thoroughly in love with her. Consequently, no other woman ever stood a chance.
She was eighteen when we first met, and I was twenty-one. I had started working here only a few weeks prior. She attended a boarding school for girls and had returned home for the summer. I remember opening the heavy front door for her, and my jaw practically dropped. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that she robbed me of my breath. I behaved like a complete amateur: I dropped her suitcase when carrying it into the house, and I completely forgot my own name when she inquired about it. I remember she teased me, but never maliciously—always playfully. She made me smile, and her laughter was the most exquisite sound I had ever heard. I fell in love within a single minute, and as I came to know her better, my affection for her only deepened.
She was even more beautiful on the inside than on the outside. She always aided anyone in need. She gave her nearly new dresses to the maids, and she helped find a new position for the previous housemaid when the girl had to move to another town to care for her ailing mother. She gave money to Adam when he fell behind on his rent. And she gave her books to me, because she knew how much I loved reading and learning. Many of the volumes in my room belonged to her, complete with her handwritten notes scribbled along the margins. She was brilliant, kind-hearted, and utterly perfect.
She eventually moved on to another boarding school—more akin to a ladies' college—so I was only able to see her during the holidays. But it mattered little to me; I cherished every fleeting moment I could spend in her presence, every glance, and every sentence she offered me. Charlie was right: I wasn't looking for anyone else. And I doubted I ever could.
After serving breakfast to the family, I inspected everything for the party once more. All was in order, yet my nerves refused to settle.
At a quarter past eleven, the front doorbell rang. I knew instantly it was her. I began to sweat beneath my stifling uniform, and my hands started to tremble. She always had that precise effect on me. I walked quickly to the foyer, attempting to steady myself with deep breaths. I threw open the door, and there she stood before me, wearing that devastating smile of hers.
"Welcome home, Miss Amy," I said, striving to sound confident and composed.
"Good day, Daniel. Thank you, it is wonderful to be back."
Her smile could have melted icebergs. Her long, wavy, chocolate-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. She had refused to follow the modern trend of bobbing her hair short, believing that long hair suited her better. I agreed wholeheartedly. Her eyes shone brilliantly in the summer light. Her attire was modest: a light-blue, long-sleeved blouse paired with a long black skirt. I could not help but imagine how magnificent she must look beneath those heavy garments.
"Uhm... Daniel? May I come in?"
"Yes! Yes, of course, Miss Amy." I stepped aside, feeling utterly mortified. I had become so unaccustomed to her physical presence and proximity that it was difficult to concentrate without letting my imagination run wild the moment I laid eyes on her. "Adam will bring your luggage inside. Adam!"
She stepped into the hallway, chuckling softly, and as she passed, I caught a breath of her scent. It was like a blossoming garden infused with just a dash of exotic spice. Utterly intoxicating.
"Thank you," she said, pausing right beside me in the foyer. "And congratulations on your new position. You are remarkably young to be a butler. But given your... qualities, I am not at all surprised that my father chose you."
That was what she always did. She teased me, thoroughly enjoying the way my face flushed crimson. But I didn't mind it in the least. I lived for our conversations.
"Thank you, Miss," I managed, though it did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment.
"Should I begin addressing you as Tucker? After all, that is what your new status demands."
"Your siblings still call me Daniel, so... whatever pleases you, Miss."
She stepped closer—just a fraction closer than standard propriety dictated.
"Good. Daniel suits you much better. But do not mention it to my father. He is terribly fond of boundaries. Let that be our own little secret."
She gave me a subtle wink, causing me to blush all over again. Then she turned on her heel and glided upstairs to her room, leaving me standing there completely speechless, as was always the case.
