As it happened, my father had around this time come to the end of his

distinguished service at Loughborough House with the death of his employer, Mr

John Silvers, and had been at something of a loss for work and accommodation.

Although he was still, of course, a professional of the highest class, he was

now in his seventies and much ravaged by arthritis and other ailments. It was

not at all certain, then, how he would fare against the younger breed of highly

professionalized butlers looking for posts. In view of this, it seemed a

reasonable solution to ask my father to bring his great experience and

distinction to Darlington Hall.

 

As I remember it was one morning a little while after my father and Miss Kenton

had joined the staff, I had been in my pantry, sitting at the table going

through my paperwork, when I heard a knock on my door. I recall I was a little

taken aback when Miss Kenton opened the door and entered before I had bidden her

to do so.

 

She came in holding a large vase of flowers and said with a smile:

 

"Mr Stevens, I thought these would brighten your parlour a little."

 

"I beg your pardon, Miss Kenton?"

 

"It seemed such a pity your room should be so dark and cold, Mr Stevens, when

it's such bright sunshine outside. I thought these would enliven things a

little."