Sunday, October 1, 1899

         The trip back to Wick was very hard, for the horse-drawn omnibus took a long time to get home, and I barely had time for tea with my parents when I had to turn around and get back to Abbott House.  It was midnight before I got off to bed, and felt out of sorts for the next few days. 

         One of the good things about working in the kitchen is that often the newspaper comes back on one of the trays.  No one else seems to want to read it, so I am able to go back to finding out what’s going on in the world when I have a minute to spare – not that I get many minutes to spare!

         There has been a horrible hurricane somewhere in the Caribbean.  Over 2,000 people were killed, but many died afterwards from an awful disease called cholera.  The paper said Cholera could become a world-wide problem, and it comes from invisible germs in the water.

Sunday, September 10, 1899

          I see very little of my cousin Heather, who lives and works in another part of this huge house.  There are forty servants in all, although the family has only six members in it.

         The male servants have to get up and light the fires, polish all the shoes and boots the family and their guests leave outside their bedroom doors, clean and trim all thirty-five lamps before the rest of the household begins to stir.  As well, they must haul buckets of hot water upstairs for anyone who wishes to bathe.  Where does the hot water come from?  We must bring in wooden buckets from the outdoor pumps and pour it into the big copper pots kept forever boiling on a stove kept special for that one purpose.  I often wonder what Mam would think of this, she who must cook and boil water over the one central fire that throws smoke in your face if the wind is blowing the wrong way.

         My day off is coming up, at the end of this month. I do hope I can arrange to get home.  I do miss my parents.

Sunday, August 27, 1899

Sunday, August 27, 1899

         Well, life at Abbott House is certainly much grander than at the Markams!  I have been here a month and have yet to meet the laird or his lady.  The kitchen and scullery are all I see, except for the attic room I share with three other maids.  We are fed well, mostly on the fare the family would shun.  Soup twice a day, with cheaper fare such as lobster or ground beef or pork, and lots of boiled vegetables from the garden.  Leftovers are always fed to the pigs, who I know will eat anything!  Breakfast is always porridge, which is my responsibility to cook.  Luckily one of the other servants has to get up earlier than me to light the kitchen fires. 

If there is any porridge left over from breakfast, I have to pour it into a wooden form.  It is left to set, and if anyone gets very hungry between meals, they are allowed to hack off a section of the cold porridge.  I have not yet been that hungry!

         We have about six hundred pots and pans in our kitchen, and hundreds of dishes and pieces of silverware.  We maids must set the breakfast trays, one for each of the family members and their visitors, as well as one for the head housekeeper and one for the butler.  The trays are usually delivered by the personal maids or valets.  Later we have to collect the trays and wash the drinking glasses and silverware.  The scullery maids wash the dishes, and there are many of them.

         As well as we kitchen maids, there is a chef and several helpers, housemaids, parlormaids, valets, footmen, houseboys, gardeners, stablehands and groomers.  The whole staff is headed up by the housekeeper and butler.

         The work is long and hard, but made easier by the friendly relations we all have with each other.

Sunday, July 30, 1899

         Now I will tell you what I know of the Sinclair history.  I want to get it all down before I leave and in the business of my new life forget what I have learned.

         The Sinclairs were originally the St. Clairs, who came from France with William the Conquerer, many centuries agro.  They helped get England away from the Saxons, and were awarded lands in Scotland as a reward.  There were nine of them, and so they scattered over the land, each with his own holdings.  One became the baron of Rosslyn.  Others settled in the lowlands, and some, like our family forefathers, eventually came to the highlands and established Castle Sinclair Girnigoe. 

         Some of the Sinclairs helped take the heart of Robert the Bruce when they went to fight in the Crusades. (I don’t know why they wanted to take his heart there.)  The Earl of Caithness became the laird of the Orkneys, under king James II.

         I also learned many of the old Sinclairs were members of the Knights Templar, and there is a lot of mystery around the Rosslyn Chapel, which the Knights were supposed to have built.  They are also said to have something to do with hiding the Holy Grail.

         Some of the old Sinclairs were not at all nice people.  One of the Earls threw this eldest son into the dungeon and made him die of thirst, but not before he had strangled his brother with his chains.  Another shot one of his fellow officers to death under the Duke of Marlborough, was sentenced to death and fled the country to escape punishment.

         The men were full of stories of the old Sinclairs, but when I looked at them, and my gentle auld Da, I see no trace of the wild and bloodthirsty clansmen they talk about.

Friday, July 16,1899

         Well, tomorrow I must start to pack up my kist box and prepare to leave home for my new job.  My cousin Heather is a parlour maid for an important family near Thurso, and that’s where I will be starting on this coming Monday.  My Da took me for an interview with the housekeeper a couple of weeks ago, and I will become one of a staff of 40, starting as a kitchen maid.  The house is splendid, and I will tell you all about it when I am settled in. 

         I have had a pleasant month at home with Mam and Da, helping with the animals and outdoor chores, a real pleasure in this fine early summer.  I will be sorry to leave my parents, but I will be given one whole day a month to travel home and see them, if I can arrange transport. 

         My Da was so happy to be given a few days work in Caithness, helping to repair some outbuildings near Castle Girnigoe.  Now this is an interesting thing I found out – the Sinclair Castle and the Castle Girnigoe are actually one and the same! 

         Every day I walked over to the worksite with a basket of food my Da’s noontime meal, and had a while to listen to some of the tales the workmen would tell about the Sinclairs – they are all related to us in one form or another, distant cousins mostly, and they all have their tales.  I will write some of them out next time, tonight I am too weary to write any more.

Sunday, July 30, 1899

         At first it was very, very bad.  I had planned to tell Mam and Da that the Markam’s had decided they didn’t need to keep an extra servant on, now that their household was smaller.  I would be getting a good reference so I could get another job, easy. 

         But in the telling everything came back to me and I started to shake.  “He put his hands on me,” I blubbed, “he’s been doing it for weeks and weeks.  Today he tried to . . .tried to . . “  When my parents finally got the story out of me they were in a blether.  My Da grabbed his coat and headed out the door before anyone could stop him. 

         When he came back he told us Mrs. Andrews had told him everything, but begged him not to upset Mr. Markam, who was still convalescing.  He could have another heart attack, she said.  Da knew there was no use going after Mr. Connor.  He would deny everything, and besides, money and position always win, just like Mrs. Andrews said.  We would have to be satisfied with Mr. Markam’s good reference.

Sunday, July 9, 1899

         I learned today that the word no is very powerful.  I was in the scullery doing the washing up when he walked in – Mr. Connor, of course.  He started out being nice and polite by asking me if I wouldn’t be nice to him, with Miss Fiona being indisposed and all.  I truly didn’t know what he meant, so I asked him, “What do you mean, sir?”

         “You little simple fool, this is what I mean,” he said, grabbing me around the waist and trying to force me backward onto the wooden table.  I was so shocked I couldn’t do anything.  Then he started tearing off my apron and pushing my skirt up over my waist.  By then I knew what nice meant, you can be sure!  “No!” I shouted, flinging the hot  soapy towel I was still holding at his face.  That gave me a minute to get out of the scullery.

         I ran straight into Mrs. Andrews, who only had to look at me, and then at Mr. Connor, to realize what was going on.  She put her arm around my shoulders and led me into the kitchen to sit down and collect myself.  I couldn’t stop shaking until I had finished the hot sweet tea she made me drink.  We both saw Mr. Connor stamp out of the kitchen and slam the door behind him.

         “Jean,” she told me, “I don’t think it’s advisable for you to work for the Markam’s any more.  We have to get you away from Mr. Connor, for your own sake.  I can’t tell Mrs. Markam what happened today, she would not believe he did anything out of place.  I will have Mr. Markam write you a good character reference.  He’s always liked you, and will be sorry to see you go.  I’ll tell them you are needed at home, with your brother gone and all. 

         “But what can I tell them at home?” I said, the tears starting again.  I can tell you I felt shamed, as if I had done something terrible.

         “Tell them the truth,” Mrs. Andrews said simply, “You have never given your parents a need to disbelieve you.  Your father is not going to go after Mr. Connor, he’ll know better than that.  Money and position always win.  Finish up in the scullery now, and then go home.  I’ll have the reference sent over to your cottage.  Good luck to you.”

         With that I left the Markam’s, and I will never return.