The Downstairs Maid (35 page)

There would be ructions if she were seeing a man. The thought of the uproar it would cause made Emily’s blood run cold. She couldn’t blame Miss Lizzie if she was courting on the sly, but he couldn’t be suitable or he would come to the house. Lady Barton made no secret of the fact that she wanted Miss Amy married before Miss Lizzie was officially out, though she’d been going to some parties with her family.

Emily thought the family was playing with fire, trying to keep their youngest daughter on a leash. Any young woman would eventually tire of being cooped up in this house, hardly ever seeing friends. She needed something to keep her out of trouble – and the best thing her parents could do would be to let her go to London with her sister. She ought to be doing something useful.

Emily helped Mrs Hattersley prepare lunch, and then she went back up to Miss Amy’s room to help her change for the afternoon. She wondered what Christopher had told his father to buy for her, and then forgot about it as Miss Amy started fussing over which dress she should wear.

‘The family will be going to midnight mass. It is a tradition, in the same way as they give us a gift on Boxing Day. Their own presents are exchanged Christmas Eve, because they consider it wrong on the day itself.’

Emily nodded. Miss Amy had told her about some of it and she’d sneaked into the drawing room for a few minutes when the family were upstairs changing, wanting to catch a glimpse of the tree. It was a huge one, almost touching the ceiling and decorated with glass balls and bows of scarlet ribbon. Tiny parcels had been hung on the branches and the smell of fresh pine was delicious. Underneath the tree was a pile of brightly wrapped parcels waiting for the ceremony on Christmas Eve.

‘I suppose it’s more of a family party this evening. Just a few close friends and relatives?’

‘Mr Jonathan’s fiancée and her family will be here of course. Miss Maude is already here and her father and brother arrive today. Apart from that there will be just a few close friends.’

‘Will Mr Nicolas be home?’

‘Mrs Marsh said her ladyship wasn’t sure. She was hoping he might come before the wedding, but he’d written to say he wasn’t certain of getting leave.’

‘Oh …’ Emily was aware of disappointment, though it couldn’t affect her one way or the other. She was hardly likely to see much of him, and she ought not to wish for it. Lord Barton’s son wouldn’t be allowed to court a servant, even if he wished to. ‘It will be a shame if he misses his brother’s wedding.’

‘Well, you never know …’ Mrs Hattersley stopped as someone entered. She looked at the man who stood respectfully in her kitchen, clutching his cap in his hands before him. ‘Yes? Did you want something?’

‘The housekeeper said I was to come. My name is Johnson and I’ve come to see my lad’s girl – Miss Emily Carter.’

‘This is Emily here,’ Mrs Hattersley said her manner warming to him instantly. ‘Come in, Mr Johnson, and sit down. Emily will make us a cup of tea. Would you like a piece of my Christmas cake? I make several and we’ve got one on the go.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ he replied and took the chair she indicated, his eyes never leaving Emily as she went about filling the kettle and fetching cups from the dresser. ‘Well, this is a decent place you’ve got, Emily. I may call you that I hope?’

‘Yes, Mr Johnson.’ Emily smiled at him. ‘I had a card from Christopher but he posted that ages ago and I thought I might get another letter before this, but I suppose they get delayed in the post.’

‘That’s why Christopher asked me to buy this for you, lass. He wanted to make certain you had it before Christmas.’ He placed a small square box on the table in front of him. It was wrapped in brown paper but from the size and shape Emily suspected it was a ring box and her heart raced. Surely he hadn’t sent her an engagement ring without even asking her? ‘Christopher told me exactly what he wanted for you – and gave me the size, but if it doesn’t fit I’ll get it altered for you.’

Emily swallowed hard. She was certain the box contained a ring and it was meant to be an engagement ring.

‘Well, Emily, what do you have to say to Mr Johnson?’

‘Thank you …’ She reached for the parcel with fingers that trembled slightly. ‘I’ll open it tomorrow.’

‘I’d like to see if it fits. If you wouldn’t mind looking at it now.’

‘Go on, Emily,’ Mrs Hattersley encouraged. ‘Why wait when you can open it at once?’

Emily unfastened the wrappings. Inside was a black leather box embossed with gold. When she opened it she discovered the ring sitting in a bed of black velvet. It was yellow gold and had several small diamonds set in the shape of a daisy. Her breath caught, because something so beautiful must have cost a large sum of money.

‘It is lovely,’ she breathed. ‘He shouldn’t have spent so much on me. It is too expensive …’

Mr Johnson laughed, looking pleased at her reaction. ‘It’s a decent ring, Emily. My lad told me he wanted something good. He told me you were worth it – and having seen you, I can see he was right. We’ll be looking forward to the wedding when he gets leave. I shall be giving you a good send off, lass – and you’ll live with me until he gets back. Unless they want to keep you on here while he’s away …’

Emily withdrew the ring and slipped it on to the third finger of her left hand. It fitted perfectly and she couldn’t help feeling a thrill of pleasure, though she wished Christopher had asked his father to buy her something else. He ought to have waited and asked her to marry him when he came home on leave, because she wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea. Christopher loved her, she was certain of that, and she liked him a lot, but marriage was for ever. If Emily agreed she would have to be faithful to her husband, and she didn’t know if it was what she wanted. However, it was too difficult to explain her thoughts to his father. All she could do was smile and tell him how much she liked the ring.

‘Let me look,’ Mrs Hattersley said and Emily held out her hand. ‘That is a lovely ring, Emily. What a lucky girl you are – and not a word to us about getting engaged.’

Emily felt too awkward to tell her that she’d never actually agreed to marry Christopher. She removed the ring from her hand and replaced it in its box, tucking it into her apron pocket.

‘It’s too good to wear while I’m working,’ she explained as Mr Johnson frowned.

‘No, you shouldn’t wear it in the kitchen,’ Mrs Hattersley said. ‘Keep it safe, Emily. It isn’t every girl gets a ring like yours.’

‘I know. Thank you so much, Mr Johnson. I’ll tell Christopher how lovely it is when I write to him next.’

‘You do that,’ he said. He took a bite of Mrs Hattersley’s cake and rolled his eyes with pleasure. ‘My missus makes good cakes but not a patch on this – I hope you’ll teach Emily how to do it, ma’am?’

‘She’s a good little cook,’ Mrs Hattersley said. ‘Her cooking would keep any man happy, but she could have done well in the profession.’

‘Then my Christopher is a lucky man,’ he said and sipped his tea. ‘I was a bit doubtful and Christopher’s mother wanted to know more about her – but now I can tell her that Emily will do for our lad.’

‘Emily is a good girl,’ Mrs Hattersley said.

‘Christopher is a kind, generous person,’ Emily put in, because she needed to say something. ‘My father thought a lot of him.’

‘Aye, and my lad thought well of your father, Emily.’ Mr Johnson finished his cake and drained the cup, then pushed back his chair and stood up, clutching his cap. ‘I’ll be on my way. I’ve got a few calls to make, but I wanted to come here first.’

Emily thanked him for coming and he invited her to visit him and his wife at his home, telling her that she was eager to meet his son’s future wife. It seemed he thought it was all settled and she felt awkward, because she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to marry Christopher – and she wasn’t ready to get married at all yet. His words made her blush but she made no answer. She waited until he’d gone and then started to clear away some dirty dishes.

‘Leave that for a moment and explain,’ Mrs Hattersley ordered. ‘You weren’t expecting a ring, were you?’

‘No. I thought he would wait and ask me when he came back.’

‘Were you going to say yes?’

‘I’m not sure. I like Christopher a lot. I may feel I want to be married when he comes home but I don’t know yet.’

‘And if you don’t?’

‘Then I’ll tell him to his face and give him back his ring.’

‘You won’t tell him you’re not sure in a letter?’

Emily shook her head. She couldn’t let her friend down while he was out there being shot at and suffering all the discomforts of the trenches. It would be too cruel and she liked Christopher too much to do that to him. Besides, she didn’t know her own mind yet. Sometimes she thought there was someone else she liked much more but she knew she was being foolish. The person she liked most would never ask her to marry him.

What Emily had to decide was whether she wanted to get married at all – or just stay in service until she’d saved enough money to make something of her life.

‘Nicolas …’ Lizzie cried as her brother entered the parlour where she was sitting reading. He looked so distinguished and handsome in his RFC uniform. ‘I was thinking about you and hoping you would get home for Christmas.’ She ran to his arms and was embraced. ‘I’m so glad to see you.’

‘I’m glad to see you, dear heart,’ he said and kissed her cheek. ‘You look well and pretty as always. Where are the others?’

‘Amy and Maude are wrapping presents in the back parlour. Mama is lying on her bed with a headache; Jonathan is out somewhere and Papa was in the library the last time I saw him. Granny is in her favourite parlour with a book.’

‘Everything as usual then.’ Nicolas tipped his head to one side. ‘Do you want your present now or wait until this evening?’

‘Oh, I’ll wait,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s enough for now that you’re here. How long can you stay?’

‘I’ve been given ten whole days, because I hadn’t bothered to take leave for a while. It seemed best to save it up and have a worthwhile visit at Christmas.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve missed you so much. Your letters make me smile but it can’t really be that much fun, Nicolas. I think you make up stories to amuse me.’

‘Most of it happens as I write it,’ he said. ‘Some of the chaps are absolutely mad. I told you about Tuffy Broad, didn’t I? He’s the chap who takes his dog everywhere with him. Have him up in the kite – that’s what the chaps call their planes – with him if the CO would let him; the damned thing sits all day at the edge of the field and waits. It knows the minute Tuffy and his crew are on their way home and starts chasing its tail and barking its head off. We always know that Tuffy is back home safe before we see his kite.’

Lizzie nodded. Her brother’s letters were filled with such tales or descriptions of what he saw around him. He talked of drifting through the sky like a bird and the comradeship of his friends – what he never told her about was when they were killed or how awful it was in the air when the Hun was on their tail and his friends were being shot down. She knew about those things because she read the reports in the papers – and sometimes she recognised the names of Nicolas’s friends amongst those listed missing or dead.

‘Jonathan will be pleased you’re here. He was hoping you would be his best man and make the speech.’

‘I’d rather not, but I suppose I can’t refuse.’ Nicolas grimaced. ‘I ought to see how Mother is. I dare say she will be pleased to see me.’

‘Yes, of course. You must go and tell her you’re here. I’ll see you at tea.’

Lizzie watched as her brother left the room. Instead of continuing to read her book, she glanced at the gilt clock on the mantelpiece. It was time to leave now if she was going to keep her appointment. Her pulse raced with excitement. Would he be there, waiting for her in their special place?

She never knew for certain whether he would come. That was part of the excitement, the uncertainty and the knowledge that her family would disapprove of her meeting Derek. They would disapprove of her meeting any man in secret, but she knew in her heart that her parents would never approve of Derek even if she brought him back to the house and introduced him.

In her heart she knew that nothing could come of these meetings. Derek wasn’t the kind of man she could marry, even if he wanted to marry her. Lizzie wasn’t sure she would want to marry him. When he wasn’t wearing army breeches and boots, he dressed in cheap suits that looked as if they had come from the thirty-shilling store. Lizzie was sure he didn’t have much money – and his manners were not those of a gentleman. He was rough and sometimes rude and often after she’d seen him she vowed she would not meet him again, but he was exciting and when he touched her she melted inside. His kisses made her want more and she allowed him to touch her in places that shocked and yet thrilled her.

Lizzie knew he wanted more. He kept telling her that he needed to make love to her properly and putting her hand on something hard in his trousers, telling her that it was painful for him to kiss and touch her and not go all the way.

Of course she knew vaguely what he was talking about. It was what lovers did – what you did when you got married. Lizzie had always called a halt when he tried to go too far. Once or twice the look in his eyes had frightened her when she pushed him away.

‘One of these times you’ll push me too far, Lizzie,’ he’d said the last time they met. He was breathing hard and something warned her that she was playing with fire.

‘I can’t let you, Derek,’ she’d said. ‘You know I can’t. If anything happened my father would kill me … and you.’

That had seemed to sober him. His look was resentful as he said, ‘It’s best if I don’t see you again. I’m a man and you’re a girl. I need things you’re too frightened to give me – so I shan’t come next week.’

‘It’s Christmas soon,’ she said. ‘Come once more, please. I’ve got a present for you.’

‘You know what I want.’ He grabbed her and held her pressed so hard against him that she could feel his erection. ‘If you come next time I’ll know you’re ready to be a woman …’