The Downstairs Maid (18 page)

‘I hope I shall give satisfaction, ma’am.’

‘Call me Mrs Marsh if you please. Her ladyship is ma’am and the young ladies are miss to you. Your wage is fifteen shillings a week to start but if your work is satisfactory you will be given more in six months’ time.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Marsh.’ Emily hesitated, then, ‘What do I wear for work please?’

‘Your uniforms will be provided. Report to the kitchen by seven, tomorrow morning. You will of course live in and you will have one day off a month. Once in two weeks you may have an evening off, but you must arrange it with me at least three days previously.’

‘Thank you. Am I allowed to go to church on Sunday?’

‘We have a service here in the chapel. Lord Barton reads the lesson and leads prayers unless the curate comes to take the service. If you want to go to church you will have to ask for a Sunday off.’

‘I see …’ Emily smothered a sigh. It sounded as if she would be living a very different life to the one she was used to, but she would be better off here. Once her mother knew what had happened with Derek, she would blame Emily. ‘Thank you for giving me a chance, Mrs Marsh.’

A slight smile appeared on the housekeeper’s lips. ‘As a matter of fact no one else has applied. Few girls are interested in service now I fear. Many of them prefer working in a shop or the jam factory these days.’

Emily murmured something appropriate and stood up. She was taken through a dark passage to a side door and left the way she’d come, walking back through the kitchen courtyard and past the glasshouses over gravel paths that were free of weeds, down to the stables and out into the lane that led eventually to the village. She hadn’t even seen the front of the house yet, though she could see that it was huge, parts of it dating back to the sixteenth century, so a helpful passer-by had told her when she’d enquired the way in the village.

At the back of the house, which appeared to be very old, the faded yellow brickwork was crumbling, though it looked strong enough to last another few centuries. The woodwork surrounding some of the windows was rotting and in need of paint but the glass itself was spotless, as was the kitchen she’d been shown. Mrs Hattersley was the cook here and Emily had known at once that she’d want everything just so. She hadn’t said much, but she’d looked Emily up and down and then nodded to the housekeeper, as if to say that she’d do.

A part of Emily felt elated to have found a new job for herself, though she suspected it was going to be a lot harder work than she was used to at home. She walked briskly until she left the estate, then more slowly across the fields. The hedges were blooming with white blossom and dog roses, and wild flowers had sprung up beneath them. She could hear birdsong and see birds flitting from branch to branch. It was such a lovely day – just the sort of day she would like to spend sitting on a rug in the paddock with a book and a biscuit to munch. However, it seemed those days were gone for her.

Emily had been lucky, because despite helping both her mother and father, she’d always managed some free time every day, but now everything would be different. It wouldn’t be as easy working at the manor. Yet she’d had to leave home, because she couldn’t face seeing Derek again. Her stomach was just beginning to lurch, because her father would be home by now and if he’d told her mother about Derek there would be hell to pay …

‘I know Derek,’ Ma said as Pa went out to check on the stock, leaving her alone with Emily for the first time that evening. The oil lamps were lit, casting a yellow glow over the room. Outside it was pitch black, clouds obscuring the moon. ‘He would never have done anything like that unless you provoked him to it. You were always a troublemaker. You’ve had it in for him for ages.’

‘That isn’t fair.’ Emily felt as if her mother had slapped her. ‘I didn’t do anything to encourage him. He tried to touch me once before but when I slapped him he said it was a joke.’

Ma’s dark eyes narrowed with temper, her pale lips thin and disbelieving. ‘Why didn’t you tell me then?’

‘I didn’t think you would believe me.’

‘Are you sure you aren’t making this up just to cause trouble?’

‘Pa saw him trying … he knocked me down and tried … well, you know. Pa has told you. They fought and Derek punched Pa in the stomach twice. He would have done more if Harry hadn’t arrived.’

‘It was good of Mr Standen to take your father to the doctor. The doctor has given him some medicine and he’s going to do some tests. He has been told to rest more and he’s asked Mr Baker’s son Ted to come and work for him.’

‘I knew he was going to ask. At least now he won’t have to do everything himself.’ Emily looked at her mother’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Ma. I know you care about Derek. I didn’t do anything to provoke him, honestly. He seemed strange …’

‘He has seemed a bit odd recently,’ her mother agreed. She’d been folding dried washing into the big rush basket, ready for Emily to iron. ‘I think I’ll visit him in the morning. Hear his side of it – he may have been drunk.’

Emily didn’t reply. If her mother preferred to think that her brother had been drunk she wasn’t going to contradict her. Ma would find it hard to believe that Derek was less than perfect.

‘At least you got the job.’

‘I was the only one to apply,’ Emily admitted. ‘I’m on trial for a month. If I’m not up to standard they’ll let me go at the end of the trial.’

‘You’d better make sure you are up to it then,’ her mother said. ‘If you lose this job you can look for another. It’s time you worked for your living, my girl.’

Emily turned away. Her eyes stung with tears but she refused to let her mother see them. Why could she never do things right for her? She did all the chores she was given and often more.

She left the room and went up to her bedroom. The floor was just stained boards with a small peg rug she’d made from rags. There were two lamps, one on the five-drawer chest that contained her clothes, and the other on a small chest beside the large double bed. The bed was covered with a white candlewick counterpane, which had a brown stain one side that wouldn’t come out no matter how often Emily scrubbed it, and above the bed hung a picture of a cottage with
Home Sweet Home
printed underneath.

Sitting on her bed, Emily wondered what to take with her to the manor. All her treasures that Pa had given her over the years were packed into a small oak hutch. She obviously couldn’t take them with her just yet, but they would be safe here in her room. She was only going to work at the manor until things got better at home. Once her father had finished his treatment she could come back and help him again.

She would take her best clothes, the compact Pa had given her at Christmas and the white satin shoes, but everything else would have to be left behind. Emily felt a pang at leaving all that was familiar to her to go to a stranger’s house. She would be living and working with people she didn’t know and she was going to miss seeing her father every day, but once he got his appointment for the sanatorium he wouldn’t be at home anyway.

Raising her head, Emily fought her fears. She’d always wanted to make something of herself and that would involve leaving her home one day. Going into service wasn’t exactly what she’d planned, but she’d taken the job on and she was going to do her best to make a success of her life.

Emily could hear her mother talking to Jack as she picked up her bag and left the house. It was chilly in the early morning and she tucked her scarf tight about her neck. She’d said her goodbyes the previous night and she wanted to escape before her mother found her a job to do.

She had a five-mile walk ahead of her, which was why she’d set out at half past five. The shortest route was to cut across the fields rather than going by the high road, but it had rained a little in the night, and after she’d been walking for some minutes, Emily knew that her boots were muddy and the hem of her skirt was getting wet. She stopped, hoisting it up a little so that it showed the top of her sturdy black boots. They were her best ones that she used for church but she wanted to make a good impression and wasn’t going to show up at the house in her old ones. She was wearing a dark blue coat, second-hand from the market but good quality, over a dress of light grey wool and a red muffler about her throat. Her hat was grey felt and trimmed with a red ribbon and a bunch of artificial cherries she’d sewn on herself.

At least it wasn’t raining and the sky was clear. She would have found it a lot harder had the mist been hugging the land as it often did over the Fens. The droves all looked the same then and it was easy to lose your way or walk into one of the deep ditches that had been dug everywhere to drain the marshes centuries earlier. It was those ditches that had turned the Fens from a marshy wasteland into the rich farmland it was today.

She’d been walking for more than an hour before it happened. Lost in her thoughts, Emily didn’t take much notice of what was going on behind her until the thud of hooves was so close that she jumped and whirled round to look at the horse and rider coming towards her at what seemed an impossible pace. He had the whole field to choose from but his course seemed to be headed straight for her. She was caught like a rabbit frightened by a stoat, unsure of which way to move, belatedly jumping to the right just as the horse brushed past her, knocking her to her knees. She heard a shout and a curse, and then horse and rider halted a little ahead of her. Emily struggled to her feet, brushing at the mud on her skirt as the rider circled his horse and came back to her. He was frowning as he glared down at her.

‘Why didn’t you get out of the way?’ he demanded. ‘This is private property, you know. Can you not read? There’s no right of way across this land for villagers.’

She raised her head, annoyed that she had mud on her best clothes, and recognised the man as Jonathan Barton. ‘Is that why you deliberately knocked me down? I didn’t know it was forbidden to walk over the fields. I’m on my way to the manor and I wanted to be early.’

‘I was in a hurry.’ His grey eyes sparked with temper, his dark hair slicked close to his head and, she could see, because his hat had fallen off, parted down the middle.

‘I’ve been hired as a maid up at the house, sir. My name is Emily Carter.’

‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I knocked you down – but you should have got out of the way sooner.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She retrieved his hat, which had landed near her feet, holding it out to him. He took it and grunted his reluctant thanks.

‘Right, well get on then. I don’t want Mrs Marsh calling me to account because one of her girls had a foolish accident and was late for work.’

Emily sent him a speaking look but he had turned his horse and was riding away as if the devil were on his tail. What a bad-tempered man! Had she dared she would have told him he could keep his rotten job but Pa needed her wages and for the moment she was forced to hold her tongue.

Mrs Marsh looked at Emily when she walked in through the kitchen door. It was a few minutes past seven by the clock on the wall and by the expression on the housekeeper’s face it was obvious she’d begun to think Emily wasn’t coming. She made a show of looking at the silver watch pinned to her dress, which was different from the one she’d worn previously but just as severe and, to Emily’s mind, old-fashioned.

‘Well, you finally arrived,’ Mrs Marsh said, a prim look on her face. ‘This is Mrs Hattersley. I believe you met yesterday when you enquired for the position?’

‘Yes, Mrs Marsh. I’m sorry I was late. I … fell over and that’s why I have mud on my clothes.’

The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed. She inclined her head but made no comment on Emily’s excuse, merely giving her the names of the people she would be working with. There were three other maids, June, Mary and Anne; also two footmen – Tomas and Gilbert Phillips; Billy, the boot boy, who was their cousin; Miss Lancaster, Lady Prior’s maid; Mr Hattersley, the butler; and Mr Payne, Lord Barton’s man. There were also several outside men, but Mrs Marsh did not bother to name them, as they seldom came into the house. Emily was told she would meet them all in time, but they were busy and Mrs Hattersley needed her to get on with her work.

‘You’ll be all right once you get to know people, lass,’ Mrs Hattersley said after the housekeeper departed. ‘For a start you’ll be doing all the rough jobs in the kitchen and helping wherever you’re asked, but if you’ve the knack for it I’ll be teaching you to cook and then you’ll be excused some of the scrubbing. We ought to have a scullery girl for that, because I need help in the kitchen all the time. Now I’ll take you up to your room. You can change into uniform and come back quickly.’

Emily listened but said very little as they went upstairs. She was told she was to share a room with Mary. They entered the room, which was a bit bigger than Emily’s at home, but looked crowded because there were two beds, two chests and two cupboards. She was told which was hers and then left to get changed. She didn’t bother to unpack, just left her things on the bed, changed into the pale pink striped uniform, tied the white apron over the top, put the cap over her hair and hurried back down the stairs to the kitchen. She was given tea in a nice blue and white cup and then set to scraping new potatoes and preparing asparagus. She’d never eaten it, but she asked and was told how to prepare it.

The servants’ quarters were in the basement, though their bedrooms were right at the top of the house, but everywhere Emily had been so far seemed dark and oppressive. The furniture was heavy and ponderous, probably Victorian, but nothing of any merit found its way into this part of the house it seemed. At least the kitchen was lighter and it smelled of baking and herbs, rather than the slight mustiness that seemed to cling to other parts of the house.

Emily found the morning soon fled by. Once she’d done the vegetables she was fetching and carrying things from the huge pantry. Mrs Hattersley seemed to think several courses of food were necessary to satisfy the family upstairs and Emily was astonished at all the butter and cream that went into the fancy dishes she made. Ma was a decent cook but she didn’t make things like the syllabubs, lemon mousse and upside-down apple cake Mrs Hattersley seemed to think essential for a simple lunch.