The Remains of the Day

Dear Mr. Stevens:

You will be surprised to hear from me after all this time.

You've been in my thoughts since I heard Lord Darlington had died.

We read that his heirs put Darlington Hall up for sale

as they no longer wished to maintain it.

As no one would buy such a large house,

the new earl decided to demolish it and sell the stone for 5000 pounds.

We also saw some rubbish in the Daily Mail which made my blood boil:

"Traitor's nest to be pulled down."

One hundred and eighty guineas?

One hundred and eighty? Have we done?

Ladies and gentlemen, a great highlight of the sale:

Lot 414,

the fine Elizabethan portrait, A Portly Gentleman.

I'll start the bidding at 2000 guineas.

Two thousand guineas, thank you.

Two-two.

Two-four.

Two-six.

Two-eight.

Three thousand, three-two, three-four, three-six.

3800.

Four thousand guineas. Four and a half thousand.

Five thousand.

And a half.

Six thousand.

And a half.

Seven thousand.

And a half.

Eight thousand.

And a half.

Nine thousand.

And a half.

Ten thousand guineas is bid.

And a half.

Eleven thousand.

And a half.

Against you, sir, at eleven and a half thousand guineas.

All done at eleven and a half thousand guineas.

I was very relieved to read how an American millionaire

named Lewis saved Darlington Hall

so you wouldn't be turned out of your home after all.

Is it the same Congressman Lewis

who attended His Lordship's conference in 1936?

Oh, Mr. Stevens, I so often think of the good old days

when I was the housekeeper.

It was hard work

and I have known butlers easier to please than our Mr. Stevens,

but those years with you were among the happiest of my life.

You must have a completely different staff now.

Not many of the old faces around anymore.

There's not much need for the small army of footmen

that Lord Darlington employed.

My own news is not very cheerful.

In the 7 years since I last wrote, I have again left my husband

and, sad to say, my marriage seems to be over.

I'm staying at a friend's boarding house in Clevedon.

I don't know what my future is.

Since Catherine, my daughter, got married, my life has been empty.

The years stretch before me and if only I knew how to fill them.

But I would like to be useful again.

Burned again? Yes, I'm sorry, sir.

The rule in the kitchen has always been

cook cooks the cooked breakfast while her assistant toasts the toast.

Why don't we get her a pop-up toaster?

We need not a new gadget but a revised staff plan, sir.

A staff plan, huh? I didn't know we had one.

A faulty one, unfortunately. Uh-huh.

Sir, quite recently

you were kind enough to suggest that I go on a little holiday trip

around the country.

Hmm. Absolutely. Certainly, take a break. See the world.

Thank you, sir.

When did you last see the world?

Uh... The world always used to come to this house, if I may say so.

You may say so.

Take off when I'm in London next week.

I tell you what, you take the car.

Take the Daimler. Good Lord, sir, I couldn't.

You and that Daimler belong together.

You were made for each other.

That's most kind of you, I must say, sir. Most kind.

I'd meant to travel the West, where I understand we have splendid scenery.

And I might incidentally be able to solve our problems while I'm there.

A former housekeeper, at present living in Clevedon, has indicated

that she might be prepared to return to service.

What's this, your girlfriend?

Or a former attachment?

Oh, no, sir.

No, but a very able housekeeper.

A most able housekeeper.

I was just kidding, Stevens.

Sorry.

You know what I like best about your papers?

These obituaries.

Every son of a gun gets this stately funeral oration.

It's not an art we have in the States. Indeed, sir.

Thank you, Stevens.

Mr. Lewis.

Dear Mrs. Benn,

I propose to reach Clevedon on October 3rd around 4 p.m.

I'd be grateful for a line from you

to reach me at the post office at Collingbourne, near Hungerford,

where I'm planning to stop.

Mrs. Benn, I always said you possess an amazing memory.

Our new employer is indeed Congressman Lewis,

though he's now retired from political life in the U.S.

He's taken up residence at Darlington Hall, soon to be joined by his family.

But I regret to say we are woefully understaffed for a house this size.

Mrs. Benn, will you permit me once again to sing your praises?

Let me state that when you left to get married

no housekeeper ever reached your high standard in any department.

I well remember your arrival at Darlington Hall.

You came somewhat unexpectedly, one might even say impulsively

while we were dead in the middle of the Charlgrove meet.

That day is marked in my memory in another way as well.

It was the last time His Lordship

was happy to welcome his neighbours, as in the old days.

Of course, it had been years since any of them had coaxed him to hunt.

It was never a sport His Lordship enjoyed or approved of.

Ah.

Good morning, Ayres. My lord, nice to see you.

Excuse me, sir.

I fear I may have been a little unwelcoming, even a little short.

You presented the best references I've ever seen.

Which proved to be well-deserved.

Though, I confess, I did have my doubts, on account of your youth.

No gentlemen callers allowed, of course.

Forgive my mentioning it, but we've had those problems before.

Inside the house too.

The previous housekeeper ran off with the under-butler.

If two staff members decide to get married, one can say nothing.

What I find a major irritation

are those persons who go from post to post looking for romance.

Housekeepers are particularly guilty here.

No offence intended, of course. None taken.

I know how a house is at sixes and sevens once the staff start marrying.

Yes, indeed.

Might I have a word, sir? Of course.

My lord, it's regarding the under-butler

and the housekeeper who ran off last month.

Bad business. How are you managing?

I've found two first-rate replacements.

Miss Kenton, a young woman with excellent references.

Very pleasing demeanour. Appears to be very able.

And a man with considerable experience.

Older and happy to be under-butler. Name?

Stevens, sir.

Stevens? Yes, sir.

That's your name. He's my father, sir.

Really?

Couldn't do better. I'd like to see him sometime.

He's outside the door.

Good. Bring him in.

Thank you, my lord.

Father.

Mr. Stevens, how do you do?

My lord. Very good man here, your son.

He serves the house well. I don't know what we'd do without him. Proud of him?

Very, my lord.

Quite right too.

Yes.

Glad to have you with us.

Thank you, my lord.

Oh, Stevens... Sir?

What are we at dinner tonight? Fourteen? Sixteen?

Twelve, sir. DARLINGTON: Right.

Thank you, my lord.

Oh, Mr. Stevens. Yes?

This pitcher seems out of place here. Dining room. Well spotted.

Hello, William, how are you? Good day, Miss Kenton.

Hello. Mr. Stevens.

I thought these might brighten your parlour.

Beg your pardon?

They might cheer things up for you.

That's very kind of you. Um...

If you like, I could bring in some more for you.

Thank you

but I regard this room as my private place of work

and I prefer to keep distractions to a minimum.

Would you call flowers a distraction, then?

I appreciate your kindness. I prefer to keep things as they are.

But since you are here, there is a small matter I wanted to mention.

I happened to be walking past the kitchen yesterday morning

and I heard you call to someone named William.

May I ask who you were addressing by that name?

I should think I was addressing your father.

Oh.

There are no other Williams in this house.

True.

May I ask you in future to address my father as Mr. Stevens?

If speaking of him to a third party, you may call him

Mr. Stevens Sr. To distinguish him from myself.