Butler Bulldog's Uncle Barnabas
Barnabas Barkington III was not your ordinary butler. He was stout, with a chest and legs that looked as if they were carved out of solid stone. His face bore the marks of age and wisdom, had deep jowls, drooping eyes, and a constantly furrowed brow. But what set him apart from the other butlers that graced the stately homes of England, was that Barnabas was a bulldog. For years, he had served in the grandest of stately homes, where aristocrats had appreciated his impeccable sense of duty, his unyielding loyalty and his keen understanding of human beings. His services were always valued, then he finally found himself in the hands of Lord Humphrey, a gentle old man who had no heirs, who he adored greatly.
When Lord Humphrey passed away, Barnabas was set adrift, alone and without purpose. That was, until he received an offer that aroused his interest, an offer from a newly wealthy family who had won £10 million on the lottery. They had purchased Windermere Hall, a stately home in the countryside that had seen better days. The family, the Smith’s, had never lived in a home so grand and required the assistance of a butler to guide them in their new lifestyle. Barnabas, though sceptical, accepted the challenge. After all, what more could a seasoned butler ask for than the opportunity to whip a new family into shape? The Smiths were a far cry from the previous occupants of Windermere Hall, who were old money.
The new owners had asked Barnabas to interview and employ the staff he needed to help run Windermere Hall. During his career as a butler he had worked with some amazing people and within a few days he had interviewed and offered the positions he wanted filled. On the day of the arrival of the Smith family, there was a cook, 2 maids and a maintenance man / gardener in place. Barnabas had either worked with them before or he knew of them, he was confident the Smith family would approve. Finally, it was the day of the arrival of the family, yesterday their possessions and furniture had arrived and Barnabas had made the decision to put the furniture in one of the garages, as it did not go with the style of the hall.
Des Smith, the patriarch, had been a plumber before Lady Luck smiled upon him. His wife, Maureen, had been a stay-at-home mother to their three daughters, Carol, Alice, and Nicky, aged 16, 17, and 18. They were a typical working-class family from the outskirts of Liverpool, loud and brash, but with hearts of gold. They arrived at Windermere Hall in a convoy of cars. Des stepped out of his new Range Rover, puffing out his chest with pride. Maureen was already mentally redecorating every room she saw, while the girls, all in their teens, had their eyes glued to their phones, barely acknowledging the grandeur around them. Barnabas stood by the grand entrance, wearing his tailored butler uniform, which complemented his muscular frame.
As they approached, he cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Smith," Barnabas greeted them with a deep, gravelly voice. His eyes scanned over the girls, who gave him barely a glance. "I am Barnabas Barkington III, your butler. I am here to ensure that your transition to Windermere Hall is as smooth as possible." Des looked down at Barnabas, his brow furrowing. Barnabas not use to being questioned said firmly, "I assure you; I am well-qualified for the position." Maureen stepped forward; her eyes wide with curiosity. "Where is my furniture?" Barnabas replied, " madam we need to discuss your furniture, please look at the furniture inside the hall first and then we can arrange things."
“Blimey, he talks
too!" Carol, the oldest girl, exclaimed,
finally looking up from her phone. "Aye, well,
I’ll be!" Des laughed. "Never thought
we’d have a talking bulldog as a butler. You’ve
got yourself a job, mate." Barnabas suppressed a
sigh. As they entered the
hall, Barnabas introduced them to the rest of
the staff. This would be a challenge indeed. The
first few days at Windermere Hall were nothing
short of chaotic. The Smith’s, though
well-meaning, had no idea how to behave in such
an upscale setting. They were loud, boisterous,
and completely unaware of the unspoken rules
that governed life in a stately home. Barnabas
began by attempting to introduce them to basic
etiquette, but his efforts were met with
confusion and resistance.
The girls,
especially, had little interest in formalities,
preferring instead to lounge in the grand
sitting room in their pyjamas, watching reality
television. One afternoon, Barnabas decided to
take a more direct approach. He gathered the
family in the drawing room, where he had set up
a proper afternoon tea. "Today," he
announced, "I shall be instructing you in the
proper way to conduct yourselves during
afternoon tea. It is a tradition of great
importance, especially in a house such as this."
The family sat around the table, eyeing the
delicate China and finger sandwiches with a mix
of curiosity and apprehension. "First," Barnabas
began, "you must always wait for the host to
pour the tea. Mrs. Smith, as the lady of the
house, that role falls to you."
Maureen
hesitated before picking up the teapot, her
movements awkward and unsure. She poured the tea
with a shaky hand, spilling a bit into the
saucers. Barnabas remained calm. "Very good,
madam. Now, when taking your tea, one must never
slurp or gulp. Sip slowly and quietly." Des, who
had never sipped anything in his life, took a
large gulp of tea and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Ah, that's the stuff!" Barnabas’s ear twitched,
but he maintained his composure. "Yes, well,
perhaps a bit more restraint, sir." The girls
were giggling, finding the entire exercise
ridiculous. Barnabas turned his attention to
them. "Young ladies, when eating, you must take
small, delicate bites. And always use your
napkin, not your sleeve."
Carol
rolled her eyes but picked up a sandwich, taking
a dainty bite as instructed. Alice and Nicky
followed suit, though their smirks betrayed
their amusement. Barnabas knew it would take
time for the Smith’s to adjust, but he was
nothing if not patient. As they fumbled their
way through the tea, he offered gentle
corrections and words of encouragement. By the
end of the lesson, they were far from perfect,
but there was a noticeable improvement. As the
weeks passed, the Smith’s slowly began to adapt
to their new life, but there were still many
hurdles to overcome. The girls, in particular,
were proving to be a handful. They were used to
the freedom of their previous life, where rules
were lax and formality was non-existent.
Carol,
being the oldest, often clashed with Barnabas.
She was fiercely independent and had little
interest in adhering to the strict guidelines of
high society. One evening, she decided to throw
a party in the grand ballroom without informing
Barnabas or her parents. The guest list included
her friends from their old neighbourhood, all of
whom were more accustomed to house parties than
formal gatherings. When Barnabas discovered the
party, he was aghast. The ballroom was filled
with loud music, spilled drinks, and teenagers
who had no appreciation for the history and
grandeur of the space. With a firm bark,
Barnabas silenced the room. "What is the meaning
of this?" he demanded, his voice echoing through
the hall.
Carol,
slightly tipsy, looked at him defiantly. "It’s
just a bit of fun, Barnabas. No harm done." "No
harm done?" Barnabas repeated, his eyes
narrowing. "This is not how one conducts oneself
in a home of this stature." "Stature? It's just
a house!" Carol retorted. "It is more than just
a house," Barnabas replied, his tone softening.
"It is a part of history, a place that deserves
respect. And you, as its new occupants, must
uphold the standards that come with it." Carol
crossed her arms, but there was a flicker of
uncertainty in her eyes. "Why does it matter so
much to you?" Barnabas sighed, sensing an
opportunity to reach her. "Because, Miss Carol,
a home like this is a legacy. It’s not just
about living in luxury; it’s about preserving
something greater than ourselves.
It’s about
understanding that we are merely caretakers,
passing it on to the next generation." Carol was
silent, her defiance waning. She looked around
the room, seeing the space through Barnabas's
eyes. The grandeur, the history, the
responsibility that came with it, it was
something she had never considered before. "I
never thought of it like that," she admitted
quietly. Barnabas gave her a nod of approval.
"Then perhaps it’s time to start." The party was
quickly disbanded, and the guests left without
complaint. Carol, with Barnabas’s help, cleaned
up the mess, her attitude noticeably more
subdued. It was a small victory, but a victory
nonetheless.
The Smith’s, having lived through their first few months in the stately home, were beginning to find their footing, though there was still much to learn. Barnabas had grown fond of the family, despite their rough edges. Des's boisterous nature, Maureen's warmth, and the girls' youthful energy brought a liveliness to the old house that it hadn't seen in years. But there was still a lingering sense of insecurity within the family, as if they were unsure whether they truly belonged in such a grand place. One evening, as the family gathered by the fireplace, Barnabas decided it was time to address this insecurity. "Mr. Smith," he began, "if I may speak candidly?" Des, who had been nursing a glass of whiskey, looked up.
"Course, Barnabas. What's on your mind?" Barnabas sat by the fire, his presence commanding despite his small stature. "I have noticed that, despite your efforts, you and your family still seem... uncertain about your place here." Maureen exchanged a glance with Des. "Well, it's just this place, it’s so grand. We’re not used to it. Sometimes, I feel like we’re pretending, you know?" Barnabas nodded. "I understand. But I must remind you, sir, madam, and young ladies, that this home is yours now. It is not about where you came from, but what you do with the opportunity you've been given." Des leaned forward; his expression serious. "But how do we do that, Barnabas? How do we make this place feel like ours, can you help us, please?
"By being true to yourselves," Barnabas
replied. "Windermere Hall has stood for
centuries, and it has seen many families come
and go. What matters is not that you conform to
the traditions of the past, but that you bring
your own traditions into it. Make it a home, in
your own way." The girls were listening
intently, their phones forgotten. Carol, who had
grown closer to Barnabas since the party
incident, spoke up. "You mean, like, we don’t
have to be like the old families that lived
here?" "Precisely," Barnabas said, his voice
gentle. "You are the Smith’s and it is your
spirit, your values, that will define this house
for as long as you live here." Maureen smiled,
feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "You
know, Barnabas, you're more than just a butler.
You're part of this family now."
Barnabas, who had always prided himself on his
professional detachment, felt a warmth in his
chest that he hadn’t felt in years. He gave a
small, appreciative nod. "Thank you, madam. It
is an honour to serve such a fine family." As
spring approached, the Smith’s began to truly
settle into their new life. With Barnabas’s
guidance, they found a balance between the
grandeur of Windermere Hall and their own
down-to-earth nature. Maureen, who had always
loved gardening, helped the gardener look after
the estate's gardens. She spent her days helping
turning the grounds into a vibrant, colourful
landscape. Barnabas often accompanied her,
offering advice and the gardener doing the more
strenuous tasks.
Des, with Barnabas's encouragement, took up an interest in the estate's history. He began researching the previous owners of Windermere Hall, even tracing the lineage back to the original builders. The more he learned, the more he felt a connection to the house, and he began to see himself as a guardian of its legacy. The girls, too, found their own ways to make Windermere Hall their own. Carol, inspired by Barnabas’s words, started organizing charity events in the ballroom, inviting people from their old neighbourhood as well as new acquaintances from the local gentry. Alice discovered a love for horseback riding and spent hours in the stables, while Nicky found a passion for art, using one of the unused rooms as her studio.
Barnabas watched with pride as the Smith’s
grew into their new roles.
They were no
longer trying to fit into a mould that didn’t
suit them; instead, they were creating their own
identity within the walls of Windermere Hall. As
summer arrived, the Smith’s decided to host a
grand celebration to mark their first year at
Windermere Hall. They invited everyone they knew
old friends, new acquaintances, even the local
lord and lady. It was to be a night of music,
dancing, and laughter, a true testament to how
far they had come. The preparations were
intense, with Maureen overseeing the
decorations, Carol managing the guest list, and
Barnabas ensuring that every detail was perfect.
Even the usually stoic Barnabas found himself looking forward to the event. On the night of the celebration, the grand ballroom was transformed. The chandeliers sparkled, the tables were adorned with flowers from Maureen’s Garden, and a band played lively tunes that echoed through the hall. The guests arrived in droves, all eager to see the transformed Windermere Hall and to celebrate with the Smith’s. Des, dressed in a tailored suit, greeted everyone with a broad smile, while Maureen, resplendent in a new gown, charmed the guests with her warmth and wit. The girls, dressed in elegant gowns, mingled with the guests, their confidence shining through. Carol moved through the crowd with ease, introducing her friends to the local gentry.
While Alice and Nicky entertained with
stories of their adventures on the estate.
"We wouldn’t have made it without you."
Barnabas took a sip of the champagne, savouring
the moment. "It has been my pleasure, sir." They
stood in silence, enjoying the view and the
sounds of the celebration.
”
He walked through the quiet halls of the
house, his paws echoing softly on the marble
floors. The memories of the previous night
played through his mind, and he couldn’t help
but smile. The Smith’s had come so far, and they
had made Windermere Hall their own in a way that
no one else could have. As he entered the
kitchen, he found Maureen already up, making
breakfast. She looked up and smiled when she saw
him. "Morning, Barnabas," she greeted him
cheerfully. "How about some bacon? You deserve
it." Barnabas nodded, accepting the treat with a
grateful wag of his tail. As he ate, Maureen sat
down across from him, sipping her tea. "You
know," she began, "we’ve been thinking about
something. The girls, Des, and I." Barnabas
tilted his head, curious.
"We were thinking… maybe you shouldn’t
just be our butler. Maybe you should be our
companion, our advisor. Part of the family in
every sense." Barnabas was taken aback. "But,
madam, I am a butler. It is my duty" "Your
duty," Maureen interrupted gently, "is to be
happy. And you’ve done so much for us. We want
to do something for you." Barnabas looked at
her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. It was
true—he had always been a butler, always lived
to serve others. But here, with the Smith’s, he
had found something more. He had found a family,
a place where he truly belonged. After a long
moment, Barnabas nodded. "Thank you, madam. I
would be honoured."
Welcome to the family, Barnabas." And
so, Barnabas Barkington III, once a butler,
became something much more. He was a companion,
a friend, and a cherished member of the Smith
family. Together, they lived in Windermere Hall,
creating new memories and traditions, while
always honouring the legacy of the past.