The Downstairs Maid (28 page)

‘I’m glad. If you need a little more time off I’m sure you could be spared for a day or so.’

‘No, sir, thank you. I would prefer to work.’

‘We’ll look after her below stairs. No need to worry about our Emily – she’s a part of our family now.’

Emily closed her eyes. Her head was aching almost as much as her heart. It seemed ridiculous that people could talk of life going on in the same old way. Glancing out of the window, she saw that the clouds had turned darker and it looked like rain. The heaviness in the air suited her mood. She felt as if a part of her life had been torn away from her, but the wound was inside where no one could see.

Mrs Hattersley continued to chat to their obliging driver and it was not long before he was stopping at the front of the house to let them get down.

She thought she would almost rather have walked home. The exercise would have done her good, though she knew Mrs Hattersley would have found it hard. She didn’t glance back at Mr Jonathan as she walked away, though she had the oddest feeling that he was staring at her back. Raising her head, she set her shoulders straight as pride carried her on. A part of her wanted to run to her room where she could lie on the bed and cry her heart out, but she refused to give in. To be miserable would let her mother and Derek win, and even her grief for her father wouldn’t allow her to do that. Instead, she dwelled on her anger.

They thought themselves so clever, selling her father’s land to buy a pub lease. Joe Carter had worked so hard to make a living for them, putting his heart and soul into his smallholding, but it hadn’t been enough for his wife. She wondered how long it would be before the brother and sister ran through the money.

It didn’t matter. Emily realised that the people she worked with and the people she worked for were her life now. Everyone that meant anything to her was here in this house – except for Christopher Johnson. She smiled as she remembered that they were to meet on her next day off – and then it struck her as strange that he hadn’t been at the funeral. Harry had come, so why not Christopher?

Perhaps he had already gone to join his unit? If he had she would surely hear from him soon.

Mrs Hattersley had taken off her hat and coat and was rolling up her sleeves. ‘You look pale, Emily. Mr Jonathan was concerned about you.’

‘I’m all right now,’ Emily said. ‘I should like a cup of tea and a bit of your cake, but then I’ll be ready to start again.’

‘Good girl. We’ll both have a cup of tea first. Mr Jonathan saved us time by fetching us home. I never expected that I can tell you.’

‘It was Miss Lizzie’s idea.’

‘Yes, she’s a real lady.’ Mrs Hattersley looked at her oddly. ‘Put the kettle on, Emily. Here’s Mary and June too. I dare say they could do with a drink …’

‘Was Emily terribly upset?’ Lizzie asked her brother when he entered the drawing room that evening. ‘It must have been an ordeal for her. Nicolas said she was devastated by her father’s death.’

‘It was sheer incompetence that it happened if you ask me,’ Jonathan said. ‘If his doctor had examined him properly something might have been done sooner.’

‘Emily told Nicolas that her father didn’t want to take time off work for treatment for his chest.’

‘It’s the same with a lot of these small farmers. They work themselves into an early grave and for what? His widow has already put the land up for sale and sold all his equipment and stock. I told Grandmother about it. There were several good acres we might use for grazing to enlarge our beef herd. She wasn’t interested.’

‘Surely we have enough land?’

‘Good land is always useful.’

‘Granny may have other plans for her money.’

Jonathan frowned at her. ‘She told me that she intends to leave all of us something, though she didn’t say what. She offered me three thousand pounds in the meantime. I didn’t feel able to take it.’

‘If I’d been you I should have thanked her and taken it. You should have an independence of your own, Jonathan.’

‘Mabel’s father will settle ten thousand on us when we marry. I shan’t have to worry about …’ he broke off as the door opened and his mother and grandmother entered.

‘Dinner is fifteen minutes late this evening,’ Lady Barton said. ‘Mrs Marsh apologised but Cook went to a funeral with that girl … the kitchen help. I’m sorry everyone is waiting.’

‘You should have vetoed it,’ Lady Prior said harshly. ‘If Mrs Marsh had come to me, as she ought, I should have told her that the girl could perfectly well go alone.’

‘You were unwell so we didn’t wish to bother you. It was such a little thing and a few minutes hardly matters. Besides, I couldn’t bear to lose Mrs Hattersley; a good cook is worth her weight in gold.’

‘Standards have to be maintained, Helen. Once you allow things to slide …’

‘I fear things will not be quite the same in future,’ Lord Barton said, following them into the room. ‘We have only one footman. We shall need to take on more maids and they may not be fully trained. There is plenty of work for young women now; they will be taking the men’s place on the land and in the factories – and the factory owners are paying them far more than we do. We may have to raise wages to keep them.’

‘This tiresome war. It really is too bad.’ Lady Prior accepted the glass of sherry her grandson offered. ‘Has anyone heard from Nicolas?’

‘I have, Granny,’ Lizzie said. ‘He says he is enjoying himself and it is all great fun. Had he known what good sport flying was he would have joined months ago.’

‘Not if I had a say in it,’ her father barked. ‘If it were not for this damned war he would very shortly be at Oxford studying. What good will it do him after the war if he gets his pilot’s licence?’

‘It might be very useful. I think flying will become more popular in the future – it will become no different from catching a train or an omnibus,’ Jonathan said.

‘How ridiculous,’ Lady Prior snapped. ‘I have no wish to leave the ground in something that is so flimsy it might snap in the wind. I still prefer my carriage and horses to those noisy things you run around in, Jonathan …’

She was the autocratic matriarch, with nothing soft or forgiving in her manner. Diamonds flashed from her hands and the large pearls nestling against the wrinkled skin at her throat were worth a fortune. She was still living in an age when money was everything and the working class knew their place. All this talk of it being difficult to find servants was annoying her, upsetting the balance of her life. Lizzie knew that she clung to the old ways, just as she kept everything she’d inherited or been given or purchased, more or less regardless of its worth or suitability. She was a dinosaur, entrenched in her ways, dominating them all, refusing to give in and let the winds of change bring new life into the house. Her overstuffed, Victorian, buttoned-back chair was her throne and she a queen in her own domain.

Lizzie loved and admired her grandmother, even though she understood that her brother chafed at his bonds and both her mother and Amy resented being told what they should and shouldn’t do. Sometimes, Lizzie felt trapped in this house with its air of decaying grandeur. She longed to spread her wings and escape into a wider world but at the moment there was no chance of her being let off the leash.

‘Dinner is served.’ The butler’s voice from the doorway cut off Lady Prior’s complaints.

‘Thank goodness,’ Lord Barton said. ‘Lady Prior, please take my arm. Jonathan, take your mother in please. And please think of a more interesting topic than aeroplanes or the war if you can …’

Jonathan shot Amy a look that spoke volumes and she smiled. Lizzie giggled but then subsided as her father turned to glare at her.

‘Cousin Maude is going to London soon,’ she said. ‘She told me she wants to join the ambulance service. Uncle Simon has taught her to drive and she’s going to apply to be a driver and see what happens.’

‘Good gracious! What can he be thinking of?’ her grandmother said. ‘Maude is scarcely older than you, Lizzie.’

‘I know …’ Lizzie paused for effect. She curled her nails into her palms, because it was really so important to her but no one seemed to take her seriously. ‘I should like to do something useful too.’

‘Your mother is going to organise something here,’ Lord Barton told her. ‘You can roll bandages or knit socks, Lizzie. I am certain there will be something you can do. We might even offer a refuge for recovering officers in the dower house if your grandmother agrees. This house isn’t big enough to be a hospital but the dower would accommodate officers who are on the mend but not yet ready to return to their units.’

‘I suppose we may as well offer it,’ Lady Prior said. ‘Providing you are sure they won’t try to take the manor.’

‘Not big enough for us and them,’ he said. ‘I intend to speak to my brother about Barton Abbey. He has the room if he cares to make it available.’

‘Well, he may do as he pleases. I shall certainly not offer this house. Sir William would turn in his grave.’

‘It’s a wonder the poor man can lie straight at any time,’ Jonathan whispered to his mother, who shook her head at him but smiled just the same.

‘Do you think Granny will let the dower house be used for convalescence?’ Lizzie whispered to her sister. ‘I should so like to do something – and I’m not a child.’

‘Of course you’re not,’ Amy said. ‘Perhaps if I try I might persuade Mama to let you come with us to London for a short visit.’

‘Would you?’ Lizzie hugged her sister’s arm. Amy might be a snob but she could be lovely when she bothered. ‘Who are you taking with you as your maid – Mary?’

‘I thought I might ask Emily Carter,’ Amy said. ‘Granny won’t let me have Mary. Anne is leaving us to get married next week – and June is no good at ironing my lace. Mrs Marsh told me Emily is better than Mary – and I dare say she can learn to do my hair properly.’

‘Do you think she will want to go with you?’

Amy considered. ‘I can’t see why she wouldn’t. It would mean more money and a chance to see something of the world.’

Lizzie was doubtful. ‘I should think she’s too upset at the moment – but ask her if you like.’

‘I would take Mary if I could, but Granny absolutely refuses to let her come with me.’

Lizzie sighed. Granny was so stubborn. It was no wonder that there was always dissent in the house. Amy was lucky because she was going to London, whereas Lizzie would be stuck here for years. Sometimes she felt she was in prison and would never be released.

It was stifling in the house. Lizzie could hardly bear to be indoors, because the atmosphere was so oppressive. The papers had been filled with optimism during the first days of the war, but now since the first terrible news of the defeat at Mons everything had changed. People were anxious, worried about what would happen – and Lizzie was terrified something would happen to Nicolas. If he were badly injured or killed she thought she would want to die.

No one else understood her the way Nicolas did. He knew how frustrated she felt in the dresses that were too young for her and the way everyone treated her as if she were still a child. If only she could escape to London, as Amy had.

Amy had been allowed to go and stay at the house in London, because Papa was going up on business. She’d taken Emily Carter with her as her maid, though Mrs Marsh had told Mama that Mary had made a terrible fuss because she’d been left behind and was now talking of leaving them to get married.

Lizzie understood why Mama had given her permission for Amy to stay with her cousin. These past few weeks had been a terrible strain for her sister. Amy had acted as if everything were normal, but Lizzie had heard her crying in her room and she’d seen the dark shadows beneath her eyes, which meant she wasn’t sleeping. Mama had noticed them too, and because Amy had been dignified, not making a fuss or defying them, and accepting the end of her engagement, she’d allowed her to go to London.

Lizzie wouldn’t have given in so tamely if she’d been engaged to Sir Arthur. She’d been at the bottom of the stairs the day he left Papa’s study after telling Amy that he was withdrawing for her sake.

‘Forgive me, Amy,’ he’d told her, with Lizzie listening outside the door. ‘If I allowed you to continue in this marriage, you would be tainted with the scandal. I care for you too much to allow – and until I clear my name I shall not marry.’

Lizzie thought Amy had accepted his withdrawal all too easily. She would have wept and begged him to run away with her, but Amy didn’t love him. She’d accepted his proposal because of his money and the position she would have in society.

As far as Lizzie could make out, Arthur wasn’t exactly broke, though he’d lost a lot of money. The worst of it was that he was being labelled a cheat and a scoundrel. The papers had written articles claiming that he’d known what he was doing when he floated the shares and until he could prove that he was as much a victim as the other shareholders, he would not be accepted in the circles Amy chose to move in.

Lizzie’s heart ached for Arthur. She still thought he was wonderful, though he’d never done more than smile in her direction or ask her how she was. Now, left here at the manor while her sister was in London, with time on her hands and a feeling of heavy gloom hanging over everyone, she felt as if she would die of boredom.

It must be fresher out in the gardens surely? Lizzie decided to go for a walk. If she had to stay in the house another minute she would scream.

Leaving the parlour where she’d been sitting alone for the best part of the afternoon, she went out through the French windows and walked through the rose garden. As she disappeared into the shrubbery, she thought she heard her mother’s voice calling her but ignored it. She was going to have a few hours of freedom even if she paid for it later.

It was much cooler in the fields, warm but with a pleasant breeze. Lizzie hadn’t bothered with a hat or coat and the wind tugged at her long hair, blowing it about her face. The earth was dry and hard beneath her feet and she could feel stones pressing into the thin soles of her smart leather shoes. When she reached the freedom of the fields she ran and ran until she was out of breath, then flopped down on the grass and stretched her arms out behind her, lifting her face to the sun. Its warmth would probably give her freckles and Mama would complain that no lady allowed the sun to touch her face, but the feeling was wonderful and Lizzie had reached the point where she needed to rebel.