Old Sins Long Shadows (12 page)

Mary arrived late for work and looked as if she had not slept. Janey was waiting for her and blocked her path, a mixture of surprise and relief flooded Mary’s face. Matt and her parents had been very angry with her and her revenge now seemed childish. She had spent the night worrying that her prank was one step too far and that Janey may have come to some harm.  She was reassured to see that Janey had indeed reached the manor and appeared unharmed, but Janey was not in a reassuring mood. She grabbed Mary’s arm, pinching her flesh, and took her aside.

‘You lied and betrayed me. From now on things will
be different. If you do anything like that again I will report you to Lady Brockenshaw and you
will
be dismissed,’ hissed Janey. ‘Now get on with your duties, you are late.’ She would never report her, but she did not tell Mary that. The possibility lingered in the air that she might, Janey let it linger as a warning to the maid.

Miss Petherbridge hung her hat and coat on the stand. She had fully expected half the staff to be missing and the kitchens in chaos, but as she entered the rooms everyone appeared at their posts. She stood in the doorway of the main kitchen surveying the scene, watching each servant fulfilling their duties. The housekeeper, with her sharp eyes and years of experience of working within households such as this, sensed a shift in the atmosphere. The Carhart girl, looking immaculate as ever, entered with her ladyship’s tea tray. She scrutinised her and finding no fault reluctantly nodded her approval at the organised scene. She turned to make her way to her office when Janey’s voice caught her attention.

‘
Mary, when you make up her ladyship’s bed, I want you to change the bottom sheet. The present sheet has a tear in it.’

Out of view of the staff Miss Petherbridge stopped to listen
. Mary didn’t bother to turn around from her chore.

‘
She’s blind, she won’t notice,’ she grumbled.

‘
Thank you for stating the obvious, Mary, but in this house we have standards. Replace the sheet and ask Miss Petherbridge if she wishes it to be mended or used for something else.’

Miss Petherbridge waited for a retort from Mary but there
was none. She returned to her office and sat down before her desk, opening a ledger to stare at the housekeeping accounts. So, she thought pursing her lips, she had been right to sense a change in the kitchen this morning and the change appears instigated by Carhart. She had entered the room with a new found confidence and delegated without apology or hesitation. The dominant position Mary had held among the domestic staff had shifted with the Carhart girl taking her rightful position. Something must have happened to make this change but what? Miss Petherbridge felt uneasy. She did not like to not know what was going on within the household; in fact she prided herself that she was usually in so much control. Although Mr Tallock was head of the domestic staff, in reality they shared equal status. He was an excellent butler but he hated confrontation, was prone to nerves and usually left Miss Petherbridge to dominate the staff, which she gladly did. If she did not have the feeling that her position within the household was being threatened by the Carhart girl she would have viewed her as an ally. However, as much as she hated to admit it, she did feel threatened. Youth was no longer on her side and as much as she detested this knowledge she loathed seeing her potential replacement even more. She would have to keep an eye on her, she thought, despite being in full agreement with her decision. In the meantime she expected to see Mary later in the morning for access to the locked linen cupboard and she would instruct her to cut up the old sheet for Mr Tallock to use to polish the silver ware. She would not, however, inform Carhart she was right to order the change.

It was not long before Miss Petherbridge saw further evidence of the change in Janey
. The evening meal had come to an end. As usual Miss Petherbridge stood, picked up her tea cup and offered her usual invitation to the senior staff to discuss the issues of the day with her in her office. As she made to leave Mr Tallock and Mrs Friggens also stood to follow but, unusually, Miss Petherbridge heard a third chair scrape backwards. Her footstep faltered as she realised who it must be. Turning to look Janey met her gaze. The lower servants watched, open mouthed, as the two women eyed each other. Challenge and confrontation were in the air. For months Janey had not intruded on the ritual evening meeting, despite her position warranting an invitation. No invitation had ever been issued from the housekeeper so she had politely remained seated. Today was different. Janey had made it clear she would not be excluded anymore. Sensing danger Mr Tallock interceded,

‘
What a good idea that you attend also, Janey. It was quite amiss of me not to have invited you before. A direct link to her ladyship’s views will be most valuable.’ 

The housekeeper
’s eyes narrowed, her chance to dismiss her had gone. If she refused her now it would be going directly against Mr Tallock, and unity between the two senior members of staff was of utmost importance. Silently she led the way to her office where they all took a seat. Janey sat quietly listening to them discuss various issues, from the menu choices for tomorrow, the quality of the food bought, to the ordering of polish for the master’s riding boots. As the discussions finally died down Mr Tallock turned to Janey and asked if there was anything she wished to add.

Janey put down her teacup,
‘I’ve noticed this past week that Lady Brockenshaw has not been drinking all of her tea.’

The housekeeper sniffed,
‘I hardly think that is a major issue.’

‘
But worth mentioning I think,’ Janey smiled at her, ‘She usually enjoys her tea but she dislikes the taste and I was wondering if the tea is different or the tea pot has been cleaned using a different scourer.’

Mr Tallock and Mr
s Friggens looked to Miss Petherbridge.

‘
This past week you say?’ Janey nodded. Silence descended while Miss Petherbridge thought for a moment. ‘I have changed the supplier. I usually buy the tea from Tridinnick Stores but I’ve changed to Mrs Tully’s shop.’

‘
I have a suspicion Mrs Tully may be up to her old tricks again, mixing cheaper brands with the stock of quality tea to make it go further. She learnt those tricks from the baker,’ said Mrs Friggens looking at Janey, ‘He mixes rice with his dough to make more loaves which is better than before. It used to be sawdust.’ 

‘
I think perhaps we should change it back, Miss Petherbridge,’ said the butler, ‘Thank you for highlighting it Janey. Is there anything else?’  Miss Petherbridge made a note, her nose wrinkled as if she had smelt a bad odour in the room.

‘
Lady Brockenshaw also loves your shortbread biscuits, Mrs Friggens.’ Mrs Friggens visibly preened. She rarely heard the compliments expressed in the dining room. Miss Petherbridge often failed to give adequate feedback from her menu consultations with her ladyship, an issue that never failed to frustrate the cook. ‘She mused that she would love to eat them every afternoon. I suggested it may become boring but then we went on to discuss all the extra ingredients that would maintain the interest such as nuts one day, apple pieces on another day, chocolate and so on. We decided, however, that you would be the expert and would have many more ideas on the added ingredient.’

Miss Petherbridge
’s eyes darted to the cook who was basking in the unexpected praise.

‘I do indeed. I could add spices, blueberries or strawberries. I will start tomorrow.’

‘
That’s a wonderful idea. As you can understand her ladyship relies on her other senses all the more due to her lack of sight. She will appreciate your skill more than most.’

She was good, thought Mis
s Petherbridge. Her observations were acute and without causing offence she had brought up two problems and identified solutions. Janey Carhart had made her mark in the informal meeting and her regular attendance was therefore assured. I will have to watch her closely, the housekeeper decided, and be prepared to destroy any further rise in her status by whatever means necessary. Janey, her relief hidden that the meeting had been a success, was oblivious to the enemy in the room.

The following weeks were much happier for Janey. Looking back she did not know how she had the courage to stand up to Mary on that first morning. From that day on they were cordial to each other and their position in the hierarchy was fixed and adhered to. Knowing where each other stood seemed to settle the other servants and Janey found it a relief to not worry about trying to fit in. It was as if an invisible heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She found that with this release she became more relaxed and started to smile more frequently. Conversation came easier to her and the staff, in turn, responded. Soon, she realised, Mr Tallock began to refer to her on certain matters and Mrs Friggens often asked her what the family thought of the meals. She relished this inclusion, and the atmosphere in the kitchens became friendly, filled with cheerful banter, yet as efficient as usual. Miss Petherbridge remained aloof from the domestic staff and in her presence the atmosphere changed to tension and silence. However it was the atmosphere Miss Petherbridge desired and the staff adapted to appease her. Janey and Mary had not become friends, and probably never would, but Janey realised, with relief, she did not mind.

‘Janey!’ Charlotte was furiously beckoning to her at the end of the servant’s hall. ‘There’s someone at the back door for you!  Quick, Miss Petherbridge is upstairs so she won’t see.’

Her curiosity speeding her walk, Janey reached
Charlotte and turned the corner to see a small boy framed in the doorway, a cap in one hand and a bunch of wild flowers in the other.

‘
Are you Miss Carhart?’ the child asked, nervously looking over his shoulder as if he was afraid he would be caught and removed from the premises. His eyes were wide in awe at the grand surroundings he found himself in. He was clean, about fourteen years old and although he was neatly dressed his clothing showed he was from the working classes. Janey nodded to confirm that she was.

‘
Been told to give you these,’ he held the flowers out to her. ‘They’re not from me!’ he added hastily.

Bewildered, Janey took them,
‘Thank you all the same.’ She sniffed them, their aroma filling her nostrils on this cold, sunny September day. ‘Who are they from?’

‘Not allowed to say,’ said the boy pursing his lips as if to stop the identity of the giver spilling forth.

‘
That is very loyal of you. However, would it be breaking your promise if you told me what he looked like?  Is it a
he
?’  The boy nodded. She smelt the flowers again watching the boy over the top of the bouquet. She had never been given flowers before and she held her precious gift against her heart. Scabious of pale lilac, Toadflax with its pretty yellow flowers and orange markings and lilac Meadow Saffron were just a few of the many flowers she held. She knew all their names from reading her father’s books as a child. Perhaps that was another reason she adored wild flowers, they reminded her of happier times. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to pick these and she wanted to know who. Her intensive stare made the boy fidget.

‘
I respect him too much to tell you, Miss. He wouldn’t want me to say,’ blurted the boy. His task complete, he ran off around the corner. Janey followed him and saw him running down the gravelled carriageway that lead from the main entrance of the house to the estate gate. She stood watching his small figure running at break neck speed, his footsteps grounding the gravel beneath his boots. As she watched, deep in thought, a rider appeared on a black horse, the horse’s trot sounding louder and louder as he approached. The boy stopped, respectively touched his cap and spoke a few words with the elegant rider. The rider had halted to speak to him, before he once more continued his ride. Janey’s breath caught in her throat as she had recognised the rider. James Brockenshaw had returned.

She could not move
. His appearance had brought a rush of the girlish feelings she had not experienced since his departure. Her senses churned in the pit of her stomach as he approached, took off his top hat and dismounted from the lathered horse. A stable boy, unnoticed by Janey, was waiting for him and after a few quick words from his master lead the prancing horse, nervous of its new surroundings, into the nearby stable. James turned to face her, smiled, and to her surprise, came striding over to her with an aristocratic confidence.

‘
Good morning Miss Carhart. Are you keeping well?’

‘
Quite well, sir. We were not aware you were returning today.’

‘
It was a spur of the moment decision. I had a desire to see the natural beauty the county holds.’ He paused and watched Janey’s eyes grow wide. Did she realise her face showed her feelings so well, he mused. ‘I thought to write to inform my mother of my arrival but by the time it would be delivered I would have arrived myself.’ He opened his arms, ‘So here I am, at your service.’ He did a mock bow and Janey couldn’t help but smile at his teasing.

‘
You tease me, sir.’

‘
And you me,’ he countered. Confusion knitted her brow, she was about to protest when, cutting her off, he continued, ‘The flowers are beautiful. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.’ He stroked them with the back of one finger as if caressing her cheek, ‘An unknown admirer, perhaps?’