Wildflower Girl (13 page)

ON SUNDAY MORNING SHEILA
Madden said her final goodbyes to them all. The night before there had been a special dinner cooked by Mrs O’Connor, and the Rowan family had come down to the kitchen to toast the housekeeper and present her with a gift.

‘Open it! Open it!’ shouted Simon.

Blushing, Mrs Madden had opened the large box to reveal a glass decanter and six glasses. ‘I’ll treasure them always,’ she said.

From Mrs O’Connor there was an apron and a recipe holder.

‘You might have need to do a bit of cooking yourself now,’ she joked.

Peggy watched as the housekeeper opened her gift. It was a small paperweight, a sea-blue colour. On top of it was written: For the Lady of the House.

‘Peggy, thank you! It’s just perfect.’

Before she left, Mrs Madden went up the stairs to the attic room. Kitty was sitting up in bed now. She looked wan and pasty and her hair was greasy. Peggy had plaited it and tied it back.

Kitty handed over her gift. Mrs Madden hugged her close and then tearfully opened the package that Peggy had got for Kitty. It was a pair of fine gardening gloves, just like the ones the Mistress wore.

‘For your own garden,’ smiled Kitty.

Peggy helped the housekeeper carry down her baggage. Her simple room looked bare as they went downstairs.

Mr Rowan was sitting impatiently in the driveway and Simon was running in and out, annoying the horse. Peggy helped to store the bags and case under the seats. Mrs Madden stepped up.

‘I’ll run down to the kitchen gate to watch as you go,’ shouted Peggy.

As the horse and carriage passed on its way about two minutes later, she noticed that the housekeeper never turned round – not even once.

Two days later Miss Hannah Lewis, the new housekeeper, arrived. She was unmarried and by every-one’s reckoning around the fifty mark. She was a second cousin of Mr Rowan’s and had decided to accept the recently vacated post of housekeeper. She was small and mean and definitely ‘in charge’, as they all found out soon enough.

She was given a free hand by Mrs Rowan, who realised that without the likes of Mrs Madden to supervise the worry of the house she could never manage.

‘I’m a simple God-fearing woman,’ announced Miss Lewis, ‘and I’ll not tolerate laziness or waste. My first duty is a full inspection of the kitchen.’ She made Mrs O’Connor follow her round as she opened doors and examined cooking equipment and delftware, taking a full inventory of every piece, down to the last teaspoon. Peggy, who was busy trying to finish off the ironing, had just come down with a fresh load of tablecloths and some traycloths. The air in the kitchen was tense. Once Miss Lewis left to check the linen, Mrs O’Connor launched into a tirade against the new housekeeper.

‘Let that old rip say one word about my cooking and I’ll get my hat and coat and go and find a better position.’

Peggy, wide-eyed, knew that she meant it. Hearing the bell clang, Peggy ran up the stairs where Miss Lewis asked her to explain the stock-taking system and notebook kept by Mrs Madden.

‘It may need some re-organisation when I get a chance,’ Miss Lewis informed her. ‘Are you the only maid in the house?’ she asked.

‘No, there’s Kitty too, but she’s been sick.’

‘Where is she?’

‘She’s upstairs in our room.’

‘I want to see her straight away!’

Peggy led the way upstairs. Passing the housekeeper’s room Miss Lewis wagged her finger.

‘I’ll be able to keep a good eye and ear on you both.’

They trudged up the smaller stairs. Peggy coughed loudly a few times, hoping to alert her friend to the fact that they had a visitor. Miss Lewis led the way into the room. Kitty immediately sat up. Her hair looked filthy and tangled and she was still half-asleep. The room was stuffy and a mess of blankets, patchwork bedspread and underclothes lay in a heap on the floor. The housekeeper’s face was tight and strained.

‘This is a disgrace! Open that window and let in some air. You are like two animals living in a cave. I will not have it in my household.’

Peggy tried to explain about having to do the breakfasts on her own and make the beds and the ironing and that she’d hoped to get back up after lunch and tidy the place. Miss Lewis would not listen. She pointed to the full chamber pot.

‘Empty that! Immediately!’

Peggy began to make her way down the back stairs. There was a servants’ water closet outside near the woodshed.

When Peggy returned Miss Lewis had departed. Kitty’s eyes were red-rimmed.

‘She says I’m under notice, unless I get better soon.’

Peggy stood still. She didn’t know what to say or do. Miss Lewis now ruled the roost and the maids were her last concern.

The next day Peggy was dusting and cleaning Roxanne’s room. The bedroom was filled with so many
fine things that Peggy couldn’t help but envy her. On the bedside table lay a brown leather-covered book. Peggy held it while she polished the side table with beeswax. She loved the smell of polish and always liked to see a room shining as she left it.

‘What have got in your hand?’

Peggy was surprised by Roxanne’s arrival. She thought she was in the middle of a piano lesson downstairs. Without thinking, Peggy looked at the title of the book.

‘It’s
Uncle Tom’s Cabin,
by Harriet Beecher Stowe. It’s a grand story, Miss Roxanne.’

‘You’ve read it, I suppose?’ said Roxanne sarcastically.

‘Yes, Miss Roxanne. It was serialised in the newspaper. Kitty and I loved it.’

‘Do you think I would read a book that skivvies like you would read – two stupid Bridgets from the bogs?’

Peggy could feel her blood boil. She placed the book back on the table and bent to get her cleaning box. As she stood up she couldn’t resist saying: ‘I do believe your President and Queen Victoria are both admirers of Mrs Beecher Stowe’s story – but it may not be your cup of tea!’

She was just at the doorway when she felt a sudden blow. The heavy book hit the side of her head and then her shoulder.

Peggy managed to steady herself by holding onto the door handle. A dazed feeling washed over her. Standing on the wide landing, she could hear Roxanne laughing. Miss Lewis came out of the bathroom when she heard the clatter.

‘If you’ve broken something, Peggy, it will be docked from your wages. I’ve told you that before.’

Peggy leant against the panelling. Her head was aching. She put her hand up and felt a trickle of blood running down through her hair and over her right eye.

‘Miss Roxanne flung a book at me – she’s a bad-tempered weasel!’

The woman stared at her. ‘Hold your tongue, girl. Don’t you dare complain about your betters!’

‘But it’s not fair, I did nothing. Just because …’

‘Don’t say one more word. I will not have the likes of you answering back and causing trouble.’

Peggy sniffed. She waited to see if the housekeeper would stand up for her. But Hannah Lewis’s eyes were cold and unflinching. She did not care a toss what happened to the young maid.

‘Clean up that cut and then attend to your duties.’

Peggy went downstairs. Mrs O’Connor made a great fuss over her and told her to sit down and have a cup of tea and get her wind back. Later on, as she washed the roasting tin and scrubbed at the greasy pans, Peggy felt tears forcing their way out. Every time she moved her shoulder it hurt and by tomorrow no doubt it would be black and blue. As she looked out through the barred scullery window all she could see were the bare branches of the trees above. The garden was sleeping. All the blooms had been picked. The air was chill and a cold wind blew. There wasn’t even a weed to be seen.

ALMOST AS SOON AS THE NEW
housekeeper arrived there were changes at Rushton. Miss Lewis insisted that she go through the family menu with the Mistress. This meant that Mrs O’Connor lost daily contact with the lady of the house and got no chance to air her grievances. Miss Lewis also ordered that only basic simple food should be provided downstairs. As far as Peggy and Mrs O’Connor could see, this meant cuts of the worst meat and offal.

‘Tripe and liver and God knows what. Most of this stuff isn’t fit for a dog!’ moaned the cook.

‘Well, not Bonaparte anyways,’ joked Peggy.

‘That creature is better fed than ourselves! ‘Tis only the best for him – none of this rubbish.’ Mrs O’Connor cast a despairing glance at an offending dish of tripe which was beginning to smell. Peggy, who had usually filled up with thick slices of crusty vegetable-and-meat pies, found that she was often hungry now. Slices of cake and the upstairs pudding were off limits. A basic rice or tapioca pudding or a bread- and-butter pudding made from stale bread were
adequate. However, Miss Lewis felt that as a second cousin of the family, she herself should enjoy the same menu as the Rowans.

‘I’ll guarantee the quality of the food. I’m sure I’ll eat with the family at times, but mostly I prefer the solitude of my room and the company of the Good Book,’ she asserted.

Mrs O’Connor nightly carried in the plate of delicious food and banged it down in front of her.

The cook worked with skill, but often nothing could disguise the greasiness of the aged mutton or hashed beef that they had to eat. Peggy longed for the rich steak-and-kidney pies and the delicious roast pork of Mrs Madden’s day. As she worked, her stomach groaned and grumbled and sometimes a weakness came over her.

There were words in the kitchen when Miss Lewis discovered Mrs O’Connor reading out loud from the papers. She told the cook there was to be no ‘scandal-mongery’ in the kitchen of Rushton! Miss Lewis would read a chapter of the Bible if they needed to listen to something.

Miss Lewis also insisted that Kitty attend to the mending and darning of the household since she was now well enough to sit up. ‘Everyone here must earn their keep,’ she announced. But the large basket of mending often lay untouched on the floor next to Kitty’s bed. ‘If that girl isn’t back on her feet again soon, she’ll definitely go!’ said the housekeeper.

Mrs O’Connor was afraid for the young maid. Every day she whipped up two whole eggs with a tiny drop of sherry and sent Peggy quick as lightning up
the stairs with it to the invalid to try and build her up again. Peggy had strict instructions to make sure the other maid drank every bit of it and not to let ‘that old one’ catch her.

Not a day went by without the new housekeeper making some comment about Kitty.

‘Is that girl getting any better?’

Peggy would keep her head down and carry on working.

‘I’ll have to get her moved to an infirmary or women’s shelter.’

Peggy listened, hoping her thumping heart could not be heard.

‘Didn’t you hear me, Peggy? It’s not fair on you. How can you manage doing the work of two? We really need to get a replacement as soon as possible.’

Peggy and Mrs O’Connor knew that Kitty must show signs of recovery if she was to save herself from being dismissed. They were both fond of her, and knew she was too weak to survive on her own.

As soon as the housekeeper disappeared for a few hours they went up and brought Kitty downstairs. She was washed and cleaned and then she sat at the fire with the cook while Peggy cleared out the attic room and re-made the bed.

After a while Kitty was able to help Mrs O’Connor prepare the afternoon tea and gradually she got back on her feet. Peggy always made sure to do the heavy work and if Miss Lewis tried to force Kitty to do some task that would be too much for her, Mrs O’Connor would find some urgent job in the kitchen that needed doing.

Once or twice Mrs Rowan came downstairs. She stood in the centre of the kitchen, looking totally out of place.

‘I know you must all miss Mrs Madden, but Miss Lewis is a very experienced housekeeper. Her last position was in an Academy for Young Ladies. My husband is very pleased as she is able to talk to him about the economies she has made in the household budget. I’ve no head for figures, but no doubt it is all being well handled.’

Peggy and Kitty shifted uneasily. Mrs O’Connor was stirring a basin of cake mixture, grim and silent.

‘We’ll see about that,’ she muttered fiercely as the Mistress swept out of the kitchen.

Over the next few days a sense of mutiny took hold in the kitchen. There was silence when Miss Lewis entered, or else Mrs O’Connor would noisily sing a verse of some hymn. The other woman would purse her lips and walk by.

It was curious, but every second day some member of the family seemed to find a lump of gristle or piece of bone in their meal. One evening the Master nearly choked on a piece of fish-bone hidden under an Italian sauce.

Later they heard him talking to his cousin in her room where she was just finishing off her own dinner.

‘Damnation, woman, I’ll not have second-rate food in my own home.’

‘But Gregory, this is the finest quality fish. That stupid cook mustn’t have cleaned it or cut it up properly.’

Once the Master left her room, Hannah Lewis made
straight for the kitchen. Mrs O’Connor was sitting in the chair near the fire, looking at yesterday’s paper.

‘You are deliberately trying to fight my authority and I will not have it. I am in charge of running the household, Mrs O’Connor. If you cannot take proper care in the preparation of food, well, I’m sure you can guess the outcome. I’ll say no more.’ And turning around she marched back to her room and banged the door.

Mrs O’Connor shook the paper. ‘The old bag! But we’ll never get the better of her.’