The Maidservant And The Murderer - Plot & Excerpts
Hooke did not even pretend she was glad I’d come. “You must be Rebecca,” she declared when she opened the door. “Why are you just standing there?” She dropped a newly used chamber pot at my feet, and its contents slopped out and soiled the edges of my skirt. “Clean that up,” she barked. And so, on a fall day in the year of our Lord 1620, I began my time in service. * * * I hadn’t expected such rude treatment, of course. I hadn’t known what to expect. I was seventeen and had left my mother’s arms a week before as I traveled to York. The harvest had not been as bountiful as we had hoped, and my parents worried that when winter came, some in the family would go hungry. As the oldest child, it made sense to send me out, and a cousin in the city said she could find me a place as a maidservant. What more could we have asked of God? To this day, I remember when I first laid eyes on York. I had been riding in the back of a farmer’s cart for near two days, stuffed in among sacks of grain and vegetables.
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