SandraDeelightful
Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee
March, 1910
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Realistic or Modern Upstairs, Downstairs
- Thread starter SandraDeelightful
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SandraDeelightful
Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee
Lady Amelia Lucy Covington
Lady Amelia Covington had always been an early riser, and she liked to wander around the house when it was quiet, with only a few servants up and about. She found it peaceful and relaxing. She got out of bed and dressed in a pale pink and white sailor style dress that went just below her knees. She couldn't wait until she turned sixteen. Then she would finally be able to wear longer dresses that went down to her ankles.She found them to be so much prettier than the multitude of dresses she had, which were the same stye in various colors.
She brushed out her hair and tied a ribbon that matched the pale pink of her dress around her wavy blonde locks. She wished she could wear her hair up in one of those pretty up-do's her mother wore. But again that would have to wait until she was sixteen. While she always tried to be as ladylike as possible, she thought that was a silly rule. There were a few wisps of her hair that refused to stay back and fell down framing her face. Once she was done with that she finished dressing with her white stockings and white shoes.
Once she was ready, she opened her door and made her way out into the hallway, making sure to tread lightly, as not to wake any of the members of her family. Amelia never thought that she would get into trouble for it. The thought had never crossed her mind. She was simply wandering around her father's house, only when there were fewer people around to see her.
She always had an overactive imagination, and was always thinking up stories when she wandered around the house. Her imagination would run wild as she thought about the many people who had lived in the house long before any of its current residents were even born. She always imagined that it was full of romance and intrigue and she always loved to fantasize about it, and make up stories in her head. There were plenty of portraits of people who were certainly important, however, Amelia knew little about any of the portraits or the people in them.
She began making her way down the stairs, still being careful not to make too much noise, she made her way down to the foyer of the house, just as beautifully decorated at the rest of the house, filled with plenty of trinkets that had been in the Covington family for generations. Yet, they also looked much new than they actually were, thanks to the staff that cleaned them daily, as well as some things that were polished from time to time.
The entirety of the house was a beautiful culmination of many generations of the Covington family, with Ebbington being a sort of time capsule for it all. Amelia found it all fascinating and beautiful, her dreamy mind seeking quickly to romanticize it, make it out to be the most wonderful thing.
CharlieBoy
Space Cowboy
Bart laughed to himself As he darted around trying to chase that one dastardly chicken that always escaped the coop every morning when he went to feed them.
“You little bloody...” he cut himself off as both of his wiry hands wrapped around the chickens torso, clamping down on her wings. He held her to his face. “Now don’t you go escaping again, Missis, the lady doesn’t like it when you chickens get into her gardens.”
He gently placed her back into the run and patted her head before she scuttled off to feed on the grain he’d previously thrown on the ground.
Not expecting any at this early hour, he reached into the laying box inside the coop. One nice warm egg sat proudly inside. He grabbed it and walked out of the chicken run, locking it away safely.
“See you girls later”. He tipped his flat cap, before seeing the sun getting higher, panicking, and running down the pathway and into the lower corridors of the house. He ran into the kitchen, not saying hello to the cook, out quickly placing the egg onto the counter and shouting about it being fresh. Then he bolted to the footmans quarters where he changed from his baggy dirty work clothes into his shiny footmans outfit. Whilst it was illfitting and worn, he still shone like a new penny.
Smoothing his hair over to the side, BART was ready for a new day.
“You little bloody...” he cut himself off as both of his wiry hands wrapped around the chickens torso, clamping down on her wings. He held her to his face. “Now don’t you go escaping again, Missis, the lady doesn’t like it when you chickens get into her gardens.”
He gently placed her back into the run and patted her head before she scuttled off to feed on the grain he’d previously thrown on the ground.
Not expecting any at this early hour, he reached into the laying box inside the coop. One nice warm egg sat proudly inside. He grabbed it and walked out of the chicken run, locking it away safely.
“See you girls later”. He tipped his flat cap, before seeing the sun getting higher, panicking, and running down the pathway and into the lower corridors of the house. He ran into the kitchen, not saying hello to the cook, out quickly placing the egg onto the counter and shouting about it being fresh. Then he bolted to the footmans quarters where he changed from his baggy dirty work clothes into his shiny footmans outfit. Whilst it was illfitting and worn, he still shone like a new penny.
Smoothing his hair over to the side, BART was ready for a new day.
