Here is the transcript of Alfred's first diary entry.
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10 August 1890
‘Loyalty is a butler’s best tool’, my father once said.
These words have helped me greatly when serving as the butler
of Newton Surmaville. A truly breathtaking estate, especially for a man who can
appreciate the finer things in life. It houses paintings by artists such as
Edward Armitage and Paul Cézanne, and features a library filled with first
editions from esteemed authors like Thomas Carlyle and Henry James. So as you
can imagine, I am going to miss the house greatly, for I have been requested to
serve the Wolfthorn family at Barwick Park, which is just a short walk away.
The reason for this transition is because of the recent departure of my dear
father who passed away earlier this week. A fine butler himself, I owe much to
his teachings and guidance. Unfortunately, we never spent much time together
during his later years, due to our professions, but we still spoke through
letters whenever possible.
I shall miss him dearly.
Upon arriving at the estate, I spoke to Lady Margaret
Wolfthorn, a widowed woman who lives alone, which is a little unorthodox but it
is not my place to pass judgement. She seems to be a stern woman, who treasured
the service of my late father. Apparently, it was a personal request that I
take his position, which was rather touching I must say. As I left to attend to
my father’s belongings, she gave a slight smile, yet in her eyes I could sense
a type of sorrow one feels when they have lost a loved one. A look I know all
too well.
My father did not have many belongings when he passed on. A
simple man in many regards, but one who was greatly respected wherever he went.
I sorted through his documents and personal effects, a task that was quite
difficult I must admit. Whilst organising these items, my eye caught hold of a
small box on a shelf above the desk. Quite captivating to look at, it was
decorated with carvings that were exotic in nature, yet was seemingly
impossible to open. I cannot recall my father having such an item when I last
saw him, so as you can imagine I was extremely keen to have a peek inside. Yet,
I could not work out how to open it, for there was no latch or lock of any
kind, a truly baffling contraption.
I decided to put the box aside for the time being, and as I
did so, I saw a figure standing in the doorway. A woman with golden blonde hair
and eyes that were reminiscent of Van Gough’s Starry Night - vibrant and
enchanting. She smiled and told me that the lady herself gave the box to my
father as a present for his unrelenting service to the Wolfthorn family. She
also told me how to open it. Her name was Rose Burns, and she was the lady's maid. I thanked her for her assistance in the matter and watched as she
gracefully exited the room and walked down the stairs, like a pure white swan
submerging into a still lake.
When I was alone again with the box, I decided to have
another attempt. Rose told me that the key was to slide the midsection to the
right, and that would unlatch the lid. This seemed to do the trick, and I was
pleasantly surprised with what I found within. It was a small silver ring, the
ring my father gave to my mother on their wedding day. Simple and refined, much
like himself, the ring is not worth much money, nevertheless my father believed
it was priceless, as it was the only tie he had with mother after her passing.
Seeing the ring again reminded me of their affections for each other, and gave
me solace to think that they are now reunited once more.
With my father’s belongings sorted and my own possessions
moved in, I began to look through the house logs to see how the house was being
kept and the amount of staff we have employed. I was rather shocked to discover
that aside from myself, the only staff working for the Wolfthorn family were: 3
housemaids, a cook, a scullery maid, Rose (the lady's maid), 2 gardeners, a
groom and a coachman. Seriously understaffed for a house of this size. With
there being no footman, it would seem that I would have to perform these duties, and
discuss the issue with the lady herself. It is fortunate that her brother, who
owns the illustrious Newton Surmaville, an estate that I fully regret leaving,
supports her.
Having so many duties must have been a heavy burden on my
father and I can now see why he was struck with ill health. I think of him now
as I prepare to secure the house and check on the fires. His words of loyalty lingering on my mind, alongside the porcelain face of Rose, the lady's maid.
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