Women: A Ladder of Maids

By Jennifer Linforth

A house was nothing if not crammed with every kind of maid imaginable. Women were essential to the running of a Victorian household and the maid a very important cog. There were your parlormaids, nursemaids, housemaids, chambermaids, scullerymaids, dairymaids, lady's maids...

Let us climb the maid ladder, shall we?

In less affluent households there was the young girl considered the maid-of-all-work. Basically she was all you had if you did not have the money of more affluent households. The washing, cooking, scrubbing, cleaning and milking all fell on her shoulders. They took care of the children and often had no time to do anything beyond sleeping off their exhaustion and starting over again the next morning.

Parlormaids were up a rung and mostly seen in households that wanted status but could not afford the staff for it. Parlormaid did all the work of both male and female servants. Male servants were paid higher wages after all. They did all the work usually set aside for footmen—answering doors, serving dinner and announcing visitors. Since they were in the public eye like a butler would be they were expected to be pretty.

Next is a nursemaid reserved for houses with children. Like a nanny of today they dressed and cared for the younger children and often took them out on walks.

Climbing up, we have your kitchenmaids which comprised of those lighting fires in the stoves and assisting the cooks with preparing meals. Within the realm of the kitchenmaid are your scullerymaids, those who cleaned the pots and did the dirty work. Scullerymaids were truly the lowest respected maids in the household, their hands often worn raw from harsh detergents and rough scrubbing. A country house might also have a dairymaid responsible for all the milking and churning of butter.

The heartbeat of an estate was its housemaid. These are the women who made the house run. The made fires, cleaned chamber pots, hauled fresh water for baths and took away the dirty. They drew the drapes, turned down beds, and polished the floors. Housemaids often were divided into upper and lower maids; the lower maids doing the polishing and scrubbing while the upper maids did the "easier" work.

On the highest rung of the maid ladder was the lady's maid. She was considered an upper servant and did not live under the control of the housekeeper. Her duty was to see to the lady of the house, dressing her, mending for her or reading her stories. Often she received cast off clothing so she could be well dressed also. If at all possible she was French, for the French seemed to have the most respected lady's maids. If not French, English girls would do so long as they were young and personable.

Kicking the Heroin(e) Habit

Since we're taking time off this month to revamp the website, here's a classic post from the fantabulous Zoe Archer.

Last month, I posed the question regarding heroes in unusual historicals, and now, in the interest of equality, I'd like to turn the discussion to the other critical element in a romance: the heroine.

Specifically, I'd like to open up the discussion regarding heroines in unusual romances. Most European historicals feature heroines from the upper classes, or, at the least, women who operate somewhere within the realm of higher society. They could be penniless relatives or country misses, but, by and large, we're talking about young women born somewhere above the class of tradesmen and laborers. Not to mention the convenience of secret family histories. Even mudlarks somehow wind up being related to dukes.

Some of these women have employment, many do not, though there is a greater trend now to have the heroines with some form of vocation or work. It's usually charitable, helping women, children, the poor or animals. Sometimes, they work in order to support their families. Almost never do we encounter a heroine who actually works for profit, as some heroes do. The governess, thanks to Jane Eyre, is still a popular vocation for heroines, since it gives her a particular, liminal social status that not only allows her access to brooding, handsome aristocratic heroes, but spooky, dark ancestral manors, as well.

What about age?

Heroes generally run to their late 20s to mid 30s, with a few variations, but heroines are generally in their early 20s. This is a marked change from historicals written ten or twenty years ago, where heroines in their teens were more prevalent (and possibly more historically accurate). The age disparity between heroes and heroines is growing smaller and smaller, and some heroines (who aren't even widows) have already had some kind of experience with -- gasp! -- sex.

But this is all as it relates to your more common historical romance. And, dear reader, you are on this blog because you read/write/enjoy unusual historical romances.

With all this in mind, here are some questions for discussion as they relate to unusual historicals:

-- Do you prefer the heroine to have some form of employment? If so, what? What would be historically accurate (bearing in mind that women in the workforce is something that varies greatly depending on time period and location)?

-- What kind of factor does age have for the heroine? Would you find it uncomfortable to read about an Iron Age heroine who is fifteen, and not twenty one? Is there room in unusual historicals for "older" heroines? In what circumstances might this be acceptable, or not? What about the gap in age between the hero and heroine?

-- Are there other factors to consider for heroines in unusual historicals? Race? Class? Sexual experience? Something else?

Zoe Archer
www.zoearcher.com

Process This

Late in the day, but still here. I've had a story idea eating me whole, so it's not at all unusual to forget things like putting the cat food dish down in the cat's eating area and instead leave it on the counter and trot back to the office to bang out the next section of outline. I've gone through an entire legal pad in a very short time, and am now resorting to its matching shopping list until I can find a replacement, killed a favorite pen dead, and the particular sticky notes I've been using are not long for this world. These things matter.

In some of my preferred historical periods, my process might be considered eccentric at best, a ticket to Bedlam at worst. Normally when I talk about starting a new project, I'll prepare a compostion book with a collaged cover and attatched bookmark, and all notes go right in there, nice and easy. For work on a Georgian-set book, for example, I'll collect decorative papers by Anna Griffin to alter, distress or combine with images culled from other sources. StockXChng is a good place to start browsing for stock images of everything from people (I prefer closeups of hands, eyes, etc -- easier not to be distracted by modern clothing or props) to gardens, buildings, and miscellaneous items. There's even a menu that allows searching for images by mood. If you get the Rhapsody romance book club, the newsletters are great for images. Spread out on the floor and combine in different ways until it feels right.

If I start in a different sort of notebook (as with this project, where I started with a legal pad -- but an Anna Griffin legal pad -- flowers and paisley) then if I fill that one, I need to pick up a new one that is the same. Or close enough. It has to feel right in my hands, beneath my fingertips, and be up to getting toted around in my purse. I will become crochety if I run out, hence my now working on the matching shopping list paper that came with the fancy legal pad. I am like my historical heroines. I will make do with what I have while fighting for what I want. They had to get it from somewhere.

There's music, of course. I think a monster sprang to life when I acquired my first mp3 player. Though the entertainment factor of me trying to figure out new hardware was quite amusing for my family (I'm a scream at the offending bunch of circuits type person) the absolute joy of having Sting snuggle up to Mary Chapin Carpenter (there's an image) backed up by Meat Loaf, Eva Cassidy and Great Big Sea, all somehow mingling to whisk me back to Tudor era Scotland, Cromwell's England (he'd object, I know, but I didn't ask him) or the eighteenth century Carribbean somewhow feels right.

I'm well aware that some of the clerks in my favorite candle stores probably watch me funny when I come in and sniff things for very long periods of time, but it's important. Where else can the average modern woman find out exactly what the combination of woodsmoke, red wine and sea air can do to the senses? Leather, roses and fresh cotton? Fresh peaches and lilacs, but it's in the middle of December? Sometimes we need to know these things.

We all have peculiarities in our processes, things that those on the outside might not think go together in the general scheme of things. How on earth could we be looking right at something very modern, very straightforward and instantly be transported centuries and half a world away? I like to call it writervision. If they have to ask, they won't understand. They don't have to; for some, books are like laws and sausages. They're glad to have them, but don't really want to see how they're made.

What parts of your process make perfect sense to you but not everyone else?

Kicking the Heroin(e) Habit

Last month, I posed the question regarding heroes in unusual historicals, and now, in the interest of equality, I'd like to turn the discussion to the other critical element in a romance: the heroine.

Specifically, I'd like to open up the discussion regarding heroines in unusual romances. Most European historicals feature heroines from the upper classes, or, at the least, women who operate somewhere within the realm of higher society. They could be penniless relatives or country misses, but, by and large, we're talking about young women born somewhere above the class of tradesmen and laborers. Not to mention the convenience of secret family histories. Even mudlarks somehow wind up being related to dukes.

Some of these women have employment, many do not, though there is a greater trend now to have the heroines with some form of vocation or work. It's usually charitable, helping women, children, the poor or animals. Sometimes, they work in order to support their families. Almost never do we encounter a heroine who actually works for profit, as some heroes do. The governess, thanks to Jane Eyre, is still a popular vocation for heroines, since it gives her a particular, liminal social status that not only allows her access to brooding, handsome aristocratic heroes, but spooky, dark ancestral manors, as well.

What about age?

Heroes generally run to their late 20s to mid 30s, with a few variations, but heroines are generally in their early 20s. This is a marked change from historicals written ten or twenty years ago, where heroines in their teens were more prevalent (and possibly more historically accurate). The age disparity between heroes and heroines is growing smaller and smaller, and some heroines (who aren't even widows) have already had some kind of experience with -- gasp! -- sex.

But this is all as it relates to your more common historical romance. And, dear reader, you are on this blog because you read/write/enjoy unusual historical romances.

With all this in mind, here are some questions for discussion as they relate to unusual historicals:

-- Do you prefer the heroine to have some form of employment? If so, what? What would be historically accurate (bearing in mind that women in the workforce is something that varies greatly depending on time period and location)?

-- What kind of factor does age have for the heroine? Would you find it uncomfortable to read about an Iron Age heroine who is fifteen, and not twenty one? Is there room in unusual historicals for "older" heroines? In what circumstances might this be acceptable, or not? What about the gap in age between the hero and heroine?

-- Are there other factors to consider for heroines in unusual historicals? Race? Class? Sexual experience? Something else?

I'm looking forward to hearing from you.