The Downstairs Maid (34 page)

‘I haven’t got my eye on anyone or anything.’

‘Don’t think I haven’t seen Mr Jonathan looking at you. Or was it Mr Nicolas you fancied? He turned your head when he took you to see your father in the hospital – and the other one fetched you back from the funeral. You think because Miss Amy favours you, you stand a chance with one of her brothers but you’re far out. They might tumble you in the hay but …’

Emily lashed out with her free hand, catching him across the left cheek. For a moment his eyes sparked with fury and she thought he might hit her back but he just stared at her.

‘I don’t hit women – and I care for you even if you think I don’t. It’s all right, I’ve got the message. I shan’t be bothering you again. After tomorrow you won’t see me.’

She took a deep breath, her heart thudding as she looked into his furious face.

‘Good luck with your pub – and I’m sorry I hit you.’

Tomas looked back at her, accusation in his eyes. ‘I’m going to join the army. I’ve had enough of being given white feathers. I only kept out of it for you – and now I don’t care. When I’m dead you’ll be sorry.’

‘Yes, I’ll be sorry if you’re killed,’ Emily said, her eyes stinging with tears. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you – and I’ve never thought of Mr Jonathan or Mr Nicolas.’

‘Haven’t you? Maybe you don’t realise it yet, but you will. Good luck, Emily. I hope you get what you want from life.’

Emily watched as he walked away from her and then went through into the back kitchen. The candle was throwing shadows over the walls and the stairs were dark and uninviting. Her lashes were wet as she dashed away her tears.

Why did things always have to be so horrible? Tomas was just being spiteful. He wasn’t in love with her but he couldn’t admit it, because he had just been trying to use her. He was wrong to accuse her of making eyes at her betters. It was true she had good memories of the way Mr Nicolas had held her when her pa died, and her heart did quicken every time she saw him, but that didn’t mean anything.

Yet as she turned and walked upstairs there was a picture of Miss Amy’s brother in her mind. He’d looked so handsome in his RFC uniform when he’d called at the house in London. Emily had only spoken to him for a moment but he’d made her smile. Even before he’d taken her to the hospital she’d seen him in the rose arbour composing a poem – and, if truth were told, she’d been fascinated. There was something special about Mr Nicolas – something that made her feel warm and comforted every time she thought of him.

She thought about Mary’s distress when she’d learned of her lad’s being shipped home badly wounded. If there was ever such news about Mr Nicolas, his family would not be the only ones to feel the pain.

Entering her room, Emily looked at the three dresses lying on her bed. She hadn’t had a chance to try them yet but knew she could make them fit her, because she was clever with her needle. She’d never had anything remotely as good or beautiful as these clothes and she couldn’t wait to try them on – especially the lilac silk gown. She wouldn’t get much chance to wear something like that, but she would keep it for special days.

‘Don’t slouch about, Lizzie. Sit up straight and try to look like a lady. It’s time you put your childish ways behind you.’

Lizzie had been curled up on the deep stone sill in the library with her book when her mother entered. It was one of her favourites,
Sense and Sensibility
by Jane Austen, and she’d been carried away by the story. Now, feeling the sting and injustice of her mother’s words, she got to her feet. Lifting her head, she looked at her mother defiantly. She was constantly being chided for not behaving like a young lady, but whenever she asked to be allowed to do something useful or visit with friends she was told it was impossible, because she was too young.

‘Was there something you needed, Mama?’

‘Your grandmother wants you. Please go to her now and stop wasting your time with those foolish novels.’

Lizzie felt the resentment stir inside her but kept the torrent of angry words to herself. She didn’t want to quarrel with her mother, but she was so tired of being cooped up in this house. Amy was full of her plans to join the ambulance service, talking about the job she would do when she returned to London; Jonathan was always busy on the farm, and Nicolas was probably in Belgium by now.

A cold shiver went through Lizzie as she thought about the danger her brother might be in. She loved him more than anyone else and she couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to him. Her letters from Nicolas were the bright spot in her life. She looked for them every day but none had come since he’d returned to his unit.

Please God let him be all right, Lizzie prayed as she walked towards her grandmother’s rooms. She hoped Granny would have an errand for her in the village, because it would give her an excuse for a walk, and she might meet someone interesting, if she were lucky.

Nicolas glanced around the mess at the other young men lounging in old chairs or standing by the piano. A young French woman was playing some popular songs. She’d been employed as a waitress but on discovering she had a talent for playing the piano and singing, the men had soon persuaded her to entertain them with songs of home.

Louise had a pleasant singing voice, Nicolas reflected as he listened to her singing songs that were popular on stage in the English music halls. They sounded a little odd in her rather quaint accent, but that only made them all the more amusing. Besides, the men joined in the chorus, drowning her out; they stamped their feet and clapped as she declared enough was enough and rose from the piano stool. Despite their protests and entreaties, Louise shook her head and began to collect the dirty glasses, which was why she’d come into the mess in the first place.

Seeing that she was loaded with glasses and the door was shut, Nicolas sprang to his feet and opened it, letting her pass through. She smiled at him and thanked him, her dark eyes soft and appealing. She was a pretty girl, though not in his opinion as lovely as Emily.

The men were complaining about the loss of their pianist. Nicolas walked towards the seat Louise had vacated and sat down. It still felt warm, which was vaguely erotic. His fingers moved over the keys. He played a simple melody first, then a rousing piece by Rachmaninoff and then started pounding out some of the songs Louise had already played for them. His performance brought rousing cheers from his companions and a glass of beer was brought to the piano.

Nicolas was amused. All those years of practising for an exacting music master, who had urged him to become a concert pianist, might have paid off after all.

It was an hour later when Nicolas left the mess. He needed to be alone for a while and it was his habit to walk round their camp last thing at night, breathing in the scents of the night air. His thoughts were of home and … of the young woman he knew he could never have.

Emily … Nicolas wasn’t sure when she had worked her way beneath his skin. Had it been at that dance, when she wore that ridiculous homemade dress and he’d felt an urge to protect her from all the spiteful tongues? What had begun as an act of defiance had turned into something so pleasurable that at the end of the music he hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d known it was ridiculous, but he’d wanted to go on and on dancing with her.

Or had it been on the day war was declared? They’d bumped heads as they bent to pick up the same item while getting ready for the fete, and later he’d driven her to the infirmary and she’d cried in his arms.

Nicolas had been so angry with the doctors for not doing their job and saving Joe Carter’s life. They were supposed to be doctors for goodness’ sake! He knew even while he was angry that he was being unfair, but he couldn’t bear to see Emily so devastated – and to know there was nothing he could do for her. He’d done his best to comfort her, but then he’d had to drive her back to the manor and leave her. He’d wanted to go on comforting her, to hold her, kiss away her tears … but if he’d done that he wouldn’t have been able to stop, and that was unthinkable. Emily was too fine and decent a girl to make her his mistress and even the thought of the alternative was so shocking that he hardly dared to contemplate it. Nicolas wasn’t a snob; he wouldn’t care what people thought but his family … his parents and grandmother in particular would be horrified. He could just hear the tears, the scolding and the rage such a marriage would provoke.

No, it was impossible – so why couldn’t he get Emily out of his mind? Why did she haunt his dreams?

She’d seemed a little better when he’d seen her in the London house. She’d made a little joke, which had made him laugh – and she’d looked so adorable that he’d wanted to take her in his arms and love her. Of course he couldn’t do that, because if he had it would have distressed her. Emily wasn’t the kind of girl you could take advantage of in that way and he didn’t want to. If his family hadn’t employed her, if she’d still been a local farmer’s daughter, might he have asked her … to marry him?

A little shock went through him as he realised what he was thinking. He wanted to marry Emily Carter.

Impossible … ridiculous! It couldn’t happen, because his family would never accept such a marriage. He would run the risk of never seeing his parents, because his father would cut him off – and he might never be allowed to see his sisters again.

The thought of not being allowed to see Lizzie was painful too. She was special but he was fond of his sisters, his mother, grandmother, brother – and, in a way, his father, though they didn’t often agree on things. He’d always respected his father’s wishes as much as he could. His family meant a great deal to him – but did Emily mean more?

Nicolas frowned, hardly noticing the young woman until she came up to him and said goodnight. He glanced at her, recognising Louise, and smiled.

‘Are you off home now?’

‘Yes, lieutenant,’ Louise gave him a look that was clearly inviting. I live just a short distance from here … alone since my husband died.’

Louise was a widow and her husband had been one of the first casualties of the war, which was why she now worked as a waitress. Nicolas knew what the look in her eyes meant; she was inviting him to walk home with her – and probably to take her to bed.

He hesitated for a moment. She was pretty and it would be easy enough to spend some time in her company, to shake off this mood of loneliness by making love to her – but she wasn’t Emily. It was dark and he would see her safely home, but the rest of it wouldn’t happen.

Now that he’d realised how he truly felt about Emily, there wasn’t any point in trying to replace her. This feeling wasn’t going to go away. He just had to make up his mind what he wanted to do about it …

Emily looked at the pile of letters and cards that had arrived in the post and brought down to the kitchen for the staff. There was just a week to go until Christmas and Mrs Hattersley had been working hard to prepare all the puddings and cakes. Emily was still dividing her time between the kitchen and looking after Miss Amy. Sometimes when she tumbled into bed she was so tired that she was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. She sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table and easing her feet out of her shoes to rub them against the back of her legs.

‘Is there anything for me?’

‘I think there’s a card come through the post for you, Emily, and … yes, I think there may be two cards.’

Emily looked through the pile. She found a card from Christopher and one with handwriting she did not recognise. Opening that first, she was surprised to see it was from Mr and Mrs Johnson, Christopher’s parents, to wish her a Happy Christmas. She opened Christopher’s next and saw there was a thin sheet of paper enclosed with a beautiful and very sentimental Christmas card. On the front of the card was a big heart with a panel of pink satin, which was entwined with Christmas roses.

My dearest Emily
, Christopher had written in his letter,
I wish so much I could be with you this Christmas, but it seems impossible. We all thought this show would be over by now but it looks like
… … The next passage had been blue pencilled out.
I wanted to give you a special present but I don’t trust the post from here. My father knows what I want and he will bring it to you before Christmas
.

I think of you all the time and I love you. Perhaps one day soon I’ll get leave and we can be together. My fondest love, Christopher

‘From your lad?’ Mrs Hattersley asked and Emily nodded.

‘One from his parents and one from him. He says he’s sending me a special gift and his father will bring it before Christmas.’

‘Well, that’s nice. Now, if you’ve got a minute, I could do with a hand with the lunch. They’ve got guests today and I’ll be on my feet the whole time.’

‘We need more help,’ Emily said. ‘If Mary doesn’t come back soon they will have to replace her.’

‘Mrs Marsh told me there’s a new girl starting upstairs this week. And I’m to have help in the kitchen. She’ll do the jobs you used to do, Emily. I only hope Esther will be as willing as you were when you started.’

‘I’m willing now, but I can’t be here and upstairs with Miss Amy.’

‘When you go to London I shall have to do without you altogether.’ Mrs Hattersley sighed. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that Lady Barton wouldn’t hear of Miss Amy going off before the spring. She’ll be twenty-one then and living with her cousin Miss Maude.’

‘Miss Lizzie wants to go with them. She says she should be able to join a volunteer service too. She will be nineteen next year.’

Miss Lizzie had confided in Emily one day when she’d come into her sister’s room as she was tidying away some clothes. She’d sat on the bed watching and asking questions, chatting away just as if she were a friend rather than the daughter of the house. Emily had realised Miss Lizzie was lonely and felt sympathy for her.

It wasn’t fair the way Miss Lizzie was kept from doing the things she wanted to do. She wasn’t a child any more and Emily had noticed her walking alone in the gardens looking bored. Sometimes she went for long walks across the fields, even when it was cold. It puzzled Emily why she would want to do that, especially at this time of year when they had several visitors calling. She’d thought there was a secretive look about Miss Lizzie recently, a look that made Emily wonder if she was meeting a friend in secret.