The Downstairs Maid Read online

  She wondered if Uncle Albert would have left her anything, then decided it was unlikely. She’d hardly known him, whereas she’d been her grandfather’s little pet. Even if Uncle Albert did leave her a silver watch, her mother would take it away and sell it.

  Emily rubbed at her cheek, which was still stinging and walked back down to the kitchen. Her father smiled and thanked her, then took the coat, slipping it on without a word. He was wearing his best boots too and picked up a hat rather than his old working cap as he left. Emily looked at Ma fearfully as the door shut behind him. Would her mother have another go at her for letting the tallyman see her?

  ‘Get the cake tin out, Emily,’ Ma said. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have some tea. If your father has the money you’ll be going to school next week and we shan’t have time to indulge ourselves.’

  Obviously, Ma’s mood had improved. Emily sensed that she was hoping for something good to come out of Pa’s trip to the lawyer. If Uncle Albert had left Pa his house, they might go and live there. Emily remembered that it was at a place called Hunstanton in Norfolk, at the seaside. Her visit to Uncle Albert had been her one and only trip to the sea and she remembered it as being the best day of her life. Pa had carried her on his shoulders along the seafront. He’d bought her a stick of peppermint rock and some cockles at a little stall close to the sea; she’d loved the rock but hadn’t liked the cockles much so Pa had finished them up, because you couldn’t waste good food.

  Sitting at the table, from which the precious cloth had now been removed, Emily munched her seed cake and looked about her. At the far end of the kitchen was an oak dresser; its shelves were cluttered with bits and pieces of china her mother had collected over the years and prized above anything. Pa had given her a few pieces of blue and white, and they were all perfect, unlike the things he sometimes gave to Emily. He could never afford to give anything away that might sell for a few shillings – but perhaps things might change now. She wondered what the future might bring. Were they going to be rich?

  Emily could hear the row going on downstairs and she stuck her fingers in her ears, burying her head under the pillows to shut out the angry words. It was warm in her bed, because she had two wool blankets and a thick eiderdown filled with duck feathers, and the sheets smelled of lavender. At night when it was cold out, she liked to burrow right down into her soft mattress, pull the covers over her head and disappear into her own world. In Emily’s secret world she could be whatever she wanted to be – a princess living in a castle with jelly and cake for tea every day. Or a lady in a fine house with a big diamond ring like Miss Concenii had – or … there Emily’s imagination ran out, because she knew so little of the world. The vicar spoke of foreign lands sometimes, but the stories he told seemed more like the fairytales in the old books Pa sometimes brought home for her to read. Pa was always bringing some treasure home for Emily, although the bits of glass and china were usually chipped or cracked.

  ‘I can’t sell them like that, Em lass,’ he would tell her, taking her on his knee to explain that the latest find was Derby or Coalport or Worcester porcelain and the glass cranberry or Bristol blue or perhaps a very early Georgian wineglass with a spiral stem. ‘If they were perfect they would be worth money – this scent bottle has a silver top, see – look at the hallmarks; that little lion means it’s proper English silver and the leopard’s head means it was made in London and that one is the date letter. See those four letters; they’re the maker’s marks but they’re a bit worn and I can’t see, but there’s a feel to this piece. That was made by a good silversmith that was and I’m not going to scrap it even if it would bring in a couple of bob. If this was perfect it would be worth at least two pounds, perhaps more – but the cap is dented, the stopper is broken and the glass is chipped. I wouldn’t get more than a shilling.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Emily said and hugged him. ‘I love it, because it is pretty and I don’t care that it’s damaged.’

  She thought she would like to learn all the silver hallmarks but Pa didn’t know them all. He needed a reference book, so he’d told her. Emily decided that one day, when she had lots of money, she would buy him one, to say thank you for all he gave her.

  Pa nodded and kissed the top of her head. ‘That’s right, lass. Always remember when you buy something to buy quality. If it’s damaged it will come cheap and that way you can afford things you’d never otherwise be able to own.’

  In Emily’s eyes the fact that her father had given her the treasure and took the time to explain what it was, where it was made and what it was for, meant more than the item itself. She liked to be close to Pa, to smell his own particular smell and feel safe in his arms. Emily knew her father loved her. She wasn’t sure if her mother even liked her, though sometimes she would smile and tell her to fetch out the biscuits or cakes, though she more often received a smack on the legs than a kiss.

  The row seemed to go on for longer than usual that night. Driven at last by a kind of desperate curiosity, she crept down the uncarpeted wooden stairs, avoiding the one that creaked, to stand behind the door that closed the stairs off from the kitchen. Because it wasn’t shut properly, Emily could hear what her parents were saying.

  ‘But you’re his only relative,’ Ma said and she sounded almost tearful. ‘It isn’t fair that he should leave everything to that woman.’

  Pa’s tone was calm and reasonable, the same as always. ‘Miss Concenii has been with him for years and nursed him devotedly this last year. The lawyer said he changed his will two months ago. I was the main beneficiary in the first one – most of the money and the house and contents … but then he changed it.’

  ‘And we know who’s behind that, don’t we?’ Ma said in a sullen tone. ‘She must have guided his hand. I told you to go and see him. I would have had him here and looked after him myself if you’d bothered to do something about it – but you’re always the same. You just leave things and now we’ve been cheated out of a fortune.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Pa said. ‘He probably thought she deserved the house and money for putting up with him all those years.’

  ‘She guided his hand that’s what she did. You should go to court and get your share.’

  ‘He left me fifty pounds, a set of chessmen in ivory and ebony, a mantel clock and a Bible – and he left Em a ring. I’ve got it in my pocket …’

  ‘She can’t have that, it’s too valuable,’ Ma said. ‘Give it to me. I’ll look after it for her until she’s older.’

  Emily wanted to call out that the ring was hers. She was frightened her mother would take it and sell it, but her father was speaking again.

  ‘I’ll just keep it for her. Albert left you this, Stella …’

  Emily heard her mother give a squeak of pleasure. Obviously, the bequest had pleased her. Emily craned forward to peep round the door and have a look. She could see something on the kitchen table. It flashed in the light and she thought it must be diamonds, though there were blue stones too.

  ‘That’s sapphire and diamond that is,’ Pa said. ‘It’s a brooch, Stella – and worth a few bob.’

  ‘I can see that but it’s not worth as much as a house – and three hundred pounds. Think what we could have done with all that, Joe. You’ve been cheated of your fortune but you haven’t the sense to see it.’

  ‘Even if I have there’s no proof,’ Pa said. ‘She made sure of that – the doctor signed to say Albert was in his right mind when he made his last will …’

  ‘And what did he get out of it I wonder!’

  Ma was in a right temper. Emily turned and went back up to her bedroom. She ran across the stained boards and jumped into bed. Her feet had turned cold standing on the stairs listening to her parents and her mind was full of pictures that troubled her. What had Miss Concenii done to poor Uncle Albert to make him sign his house and most of his money and possessions over to her?

  Emily’s eyes stung with tears that trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t mind
much that they wouldn’t be rich. Fifty pounds sounded a lot to her and she was curious about the ring Pa was keeping for her – but she hoped Uncle Albert hadn’t been made unhappy when he was ill. She felt sad for him having his hand guided and she felt sad for her father, because he’d lost his fortune.

  Joe Carter worked hard from early in the morning to late at night, mucking out the horses and the cows, milking and watering and feeding the stock. His was only a small farm and he eked out a scarce living from his pigs, cows, ducks and chickens. He had one ten-acre field put down to arable, which he alternated between barley, rye, wheat and potatoes, with a patch for vegetables for the house. He worked alone most of the time, though there was a lad of sixteen who came to help with the jobs he couldn’t manage alone. Bert was a little slow in his head but strong and a good worker. No one else would employ him, because he couldn’t be left to do a job alone, but Pa gave him a shilling now and then and he was always hanging around the yard, grinning at nothing in particular and eager to help. Because he was harmless and would do anything, Ma tolerated him and if there was nothing else for him to do she asked him to chop the logs for her.

  When Pa had nothing much to do on the land he went out buying the things other people threw away. He had a barn filled almost to the rafters with old furniture. Ma said it was all junk; but Emily had seen some things she thought looked nice.

  Pa had shown her some chairs, with turned legs and a wide carved splat at the back, which he said were Georgian. He’d told her they were quality when new, but he’d only got five of a set of six and two of them had broken legs. One day he hoped to mend the legs but he was always looking for a single chair that would match the set – because a set of six was worth a lot more than five.

  Best of all Emily liked the selection of silver bits, china and glass that Pa kept in a cabinet in the barn. She liked the delicate silver jug with a shaped foot Pa also said was Georgian, the little enamelled snuff or pill boxes with pictures on the lids – and the silver box that opened to reveal a singing bird. That was lovely and Emily would have loved to own it, but Pa had to sell his nice things because there wasn’t enough money coming in from the land. He’d talked of having a shop in Ely one day, but Ma told him he was daft because he could never afford to pay the rent.

  If Pa had got Uncle Albert’s house and money he could have bought a shop. Perhaps then Ma and Emily wouldn’t have had to hide from the tallyman ever again.

  It was quiet downstairs now. The quarrel seemed to have finished. Emily supposed Ma had given up. Whatever she said, Pa wouldn’t go to a lawyer and challenge his uncle’s will; he wasn’t that sort of man – and perhaps he thought Miss Concenii deserved the money for looking after her employer so devotedly. Besides, he had a few things to remember his uncle by – and fifty pounds was more money than he usually got for the harvest.

  Turning over in her warm bed, Emily tried to stop thinking and go to sleep, but she couldn’t forget what Ma had said. Until now she hadn’t realised there were people who would guide an old man’s hand just to get his money. It struck Emily as being more than unkind; it was wicked and Pa ought to do something about it, because Miss Concenii shouldn’t get away with it.

  Yet in her heart she knew that Pa was too gentle a man to do something like that and she felt sad again. If people didn’t stand up for themselves, others just walked all over them. Uncle Albert had been kind to Emily and he’d thought enough of her to give that ring to the lawyer for her – and she hadn’t liked Miss Concenii, who was no better than she ought to be.

  Perhaps she was a bit like her mother, Emily thought, because if she’d been in Pa’s shoes she would have gone after that woman and made her admit what she’d done.

  It was too difficult a problem for a ten-year-old girl to work out. Sighing, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 2

  It was nearly three weeks after the quarrel over Uncle Albert’s money when Ma had the miscarriage. Because Pa had money in his pocket, Emily was at the vicar’s school and the first she knew about it was when she arrived home at half past two in the afternoon, to find there was no sign of her mother and the kitchen looking a mess. She called out a couple of times and heard sounds from upstairs. She was just clearing some dirty dishes into the deep stone sink when her father came downstairs. Emily turned to look at him and was disturbed to see how drawn he looked. He saw her but didn’t smile in his usual way, just sat down in his old wooden rocking chair next to the stove and buried his head in his hands.

  Emily felt a thrill of fear. She took two steps towards him and then stopped uncertainly.

  ‘What’s wrong, Pa?’ she asked. ‘Where is Ma – is she ill?’

  ‘She’s not feeling very clever at the moment,’ he said, looking up at her. She was stunned as she saw the expression of despair in his eyes. Pa never looked like that no matter how bad things were. ‘Your Ma’s lost the baby, Em. It was lucky I was here to get her upstairs. I sent Bert for the doctor but he was out visiting another patient. By the time he got here, three hours after Bert went for him, it was too late … He was sorry but there was nothing he could do …’

  ‘Oh Pa …’ Emily’s throat was tight and she was sad that her mother had lost the new baby. How could you lose a baby when it wasn’t even here? At least, Emily hadn’t seen it. ‘I don’t understand properly …’

  ‘Come here, love,’ he said and opened his arms. She crawled on to his lap and he kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s time you understood these things, Em. The new baby was in your Ma’s tummy – or her womb, as it’s properly called. It shouldn’t have come out for another four months.’

  ‘Is that why she looked fatter?’ Emily asked and he nodded. ‘How did it get in there?’

  ‘Your Ma and me, we made the baby between us. It’s called loving and you’ll understand that bit when you grow up and get married, but you need to know that losing the baby has made your Ma ill.’

  ‘I’m sorry Ma is ill. What can I do?’

  ‘You were starting to clear up when I came down. You’ll have to do that for a while, Em. It means no school for at least a couple of weeks, perhaps longer.’

  Emily’s heart sank but she didn’t let her father see she was upset. It was her place to look after her mother while she was ill and she would. Besides, she would have done anything to take that sad, defeated look from her father’s face.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Pa. You didn’t make Ma lose the baby.’

  He was silent for a moment, then, ‘In a way it was, Em. You see your Ma could have married anyone. She was pretty the way you are – all dark hair and eyes too big for your face. I promised her I’d be rich one day and she believed me, but all I’ve done is disappoint her.’

  That was the first time anyone had told Emily she was pretty and she would have been pleased if Pa hadn’t been so sad over Ma losing the baby.

  Emily puzzled over the rest of what he’d said. How could Ma be disappointed in him when he worked all hours for them? It wasn’t his fault that it rained and the wheat went down in the fields and was half ruined; he didn’t rule the low price of potatoes when there was a glut – and he couldn’t help it if a cow died in calf …

  Thinking about the cow that died, Emily remembered the farmer bringing the bull to her some months earlier. She’d hidden behind the barn and watched what happened … it was sort of awful but fascinating to watch at the same time. Now she wondered if that was how Ma and Pa made the baby but it seemed improbable and unpleasant so she decided it couldn’t be the same for people.

  ‘I’d better get on,’ she said. He nodded and let her go. For a moment he sat in his chair and then he took down his pipe. His tobacco jar was filled, because he’d allowed himself a little money from Uncle Albert’s bequest, and he lit the pipe, smoking as Emily cleared the table and washed the dirty dishes. She looked round and saw a pile of ironing waiting to be done. The flat iron was near the range so it looked as if Ma had been about to put it on to heat
up when she lost the baby.

  Emily stuck it on the range, which was hot. Pa must have made the fire up at some time during the day. As Emily was putting the old sheets on the table in readiness for the ironing a woman came down the stairs. Her name was Granny Sawle and she lived with her husband in a cottage at the edge of the village.

  ‘She’s settled now and will sleep,’ she said to Pa. He nodded and took some coins from his pocket, offering them to her. ‘I don’t need paying, Joe. Stella has been good to me. She helped me out last winter when my Tom was down with the agues. I’m sorry we lost the boy but it was much too early. Even if the doctor had got here sooner I doubt the babe would have lived.’

  Pa nodded but didn’t say anything more. She gave him a pitying look and then turned to Emily. Her dress was black and she had on a plaid shawl over her shoulders, her hair rolled tight into a bun at the nape of her neck. Emily could smell carbolic soap on her hands.

  ‘Your Pa’s upset over losing his son and heir,’ she said. ‘As for your Ma, she’s devastated. You’ve got to be brave and look after them both, Emily love. If you need me – or you’re worried – just send young Bert to fetch me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Emily said. ‘Is Ma all right?’

  ‘She will be. All she needs is rest and looking after,’ she said and went out without another look at Pa.

  Emily carried on with the ironing. Her mother didn’t normally allow her to do it, because she said Emily might burn herself on the iron if it was too hot and she liked her things just so. Emily couldn’t put as much pressure on as Ma but she could make these towels and her Pa’s long-johns and shirt look all right.

  Her father didn’t look at her. He seemed lost in his thoughts and after a few minutes he got up and went outside. He didn’t speak to Emily and she knew he was too upset, but she missed his smile and hoped it wouldn’t be long before he would be back to normal. Clearly he was upset about losing his son and heir, like Granny Sawle had said, because he always had a smile and a word for Emily.