The Downstairs Maid Page 6

  ‘Is Joe a bit the worse for wear?’ Harry Standen drew up next to her in what Emily thought of as a horseless carriage. She’d only seen them once or twice in Ely, though Pa said they were the coming thing for the future. ‘Hang on a minute and I’ll help you get him inside. You don’t want to walk all the way home with him in that state.’

  Emily gave him a grateful look. Pa was in a good humour and laughing, but he couldn’t walk straight and had almost stumbled twice already. He protested as he was manhandled into the automobile but was ignored by the smiling conspirators. Harry pushed him into the back seat, where he flopped over on his side and proceeded to snore happily.

  Harry opened the front passenger door for Emily and she slid in. He tucked her dress in carefully and then climbed back into the driving seat. He’d left the engine ticking over so didn’t need to use the starting handle again.

  ‘This is lovely. I’ve never been in an automobile before.’ She looked around in excitement. ‘Is it new?’

  ‘Almost. It’s not bad,’ he grinned at her, then glanced at her father in the back. ‘He’s settled. I’ll bet he has a sore head in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, I expect so,’ Emily agreed sniffing the pleasant smell of leather from the seats. ‘I’ve never known him to drink so much.’

  When she thought about it, her Pa had been changing a lot recently. Not only was he distant with her mother, but he coughed a lot and didn’t eat as much as he had once upon a time. She wondered if he was sickening for something and decided to talk to him about it the next day.

  It was nice sitting in the car in the darkness, which was lit only by a few street lamps, the moon having sailed behind a bank of clouds. The little popping sounds made by the engine occasionally and the humming of the tyres on the road were the only sounds, except for Pa’s snores. Fancy her being taken home in style! It made her feel like a real lady.

  When they got home, Pa was still asleep. Harry hauled him out of the automobile, heaved him over one shoulder and took him into the kitchen. He put Pa in his armchair, stretching his legs out in front of him. Then looked at Emily.

  ‘I’ll be over to see Joe before Christmas,’ he said and then surprised her when he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Emily. I enjoyed dancing with you.’

  Emily thanked him. She locked the door after him, and then looked round for something to cover her father. He was lolling back in his chair, sound asleep and snoring. She fetched his greatcoat and placed it over him, looked round the kitchen once more and turned the oil lamp down low. There was nothing more she could do, though she knew Pa would feel dreadful in the morning.

  Creeping upstairs, she looked in her parents’ room. It was in darkness. Emily spoke softly but there was no answer. She could hear little snuffling sounds from Jack, but Ma was either asleep or pretending to be.

  Emily sighed and went down the passage to her own room. As soon as she entered she sensed something was different. It didn’t smell right. There was the smell of cheap perfume but also something else – something she couldn’t recognise. She lit her lamp and looked at the bed. The covers were in place but not as she’d left them. Had someone been in her bed?

  Pulling back the covers, she caught the same smell only stronger – it was sort of musky and sharp, like some of the men had smelled at the dance. Her spine prickled. Had a man been in her bed? Surely not! Who would come to her room and get in her bed?

  It didn’t make sense, and yet she felt that both her mother and a man had been in her room. Emily pulled the covers back up on the bed, because she wasn’t going to get into a bed that smelled like that. In the morning she would have the sheets off and wash them.

  She undressed and put on her warm nightgown, then lay down on top of the bed, pulling the eiderdown over her.

  Her senses were telling her that her mother had been in this bed with a man – and the musky odour reminded her of the tallyman’s smell.

  Emily frowned as the suspicion formed in her mind. Ma had hidden from the old tallyman but she always welcomed Eddie Fisher with a cup of tea and a cake, even if she had no money to pay – and she sent Emily on errands to her father when Eddie called.

  Was it possible that Ma had found a way to pay her debts that didn’t involve money? The thought made Emily feel sick inside. She tried to dismiss it, but the thought stayed there in her head until she finally drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Well, I think you were very unkind,’ Lizzie Barton said. She was in the schoolroom at the manor with her sister, wrapping presents for Christmas, which would be placed under the huge tree in the drawing room downstairs. ‘I’m certain that poor girl heard you.’

  ‘What does it matter if she did?’ Amy said and tied her pink ribbon in a perfect bow before sticking on a label she’d written in her copperplate hand. Amy seemed to do everything effortlessly and sailed through life like a queen, expecting everyone to make way before her. ‘The Carter girl looked awful and that dress was ridiculous. What did she think she looked like wearing those awful boots with a gown like that?’

  ‘She probably didn’t have any dancing shoes,’ Lizzie objected. Her beautiful sister was always dressed in the latest styles, but she ought to realise that not everyone was in her fortunate position. Lizzie had felt very sorry for the Carter girl. ‘You’ve been spoiled, Amy. We’ve always had everything we wanted.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake! She was just a common farm girl.’

  Amy gathered up her parcels and flounced out of the room, leaving Lizzie to finish hers alone. Unperturbed by her sister’s show of temper, Lizzie continued to cut paper and lengths of ribbon. Much as she admired and loved her elder sister, Lizzie was distressed by the way Amy seemed to dismiss the feelings of others as unimportant. It was true that Emily Carter’s dress was unfortunate to say the least. She must have copied it from a fashion plate, because the style was similar to something Mama or Granny might buy in Worth’s or commission a skilled seamstress to make. A gown like that would have looked perfect on either of them, but on Emily it just looked odd. The stitching had been uneven, the hem hadn’t hung properly and worn with black boots it had looked ridiculous.

  Lizzie had recalled seeing the girl some years previously. She and Amy had been out riding with Nicolas and it was beginning to get dark when they saw her. If anything, Emily Carter had looked even worse that day. Her dress was old and patched and hung on her like a sack, and she’d had mud on her face and hands. Lizzie had thought how poor she looked but she’d seen her tear-streaked face and felt sympathy for her. Amy had been rude but Nicolas had spoken to her nicely. Not that she’d appreciated his attempt to be kind. She’d just stuck her head in the air and looked proud.

  Lizzie knew their father had lost his estate or, rather, he’d had to sell it after some bad investments meant that he was short of money. Their Uncle Simon had bought it, which had made Papa even angrier. He resented the fact that his younger brother had made money whereas he’d lost his, and he was annoyed because Granny had offered them a home here rather than lending him the money to clear his debts, which would have enabled him to keep his estate. Of course he wasn’t poor, because he still had the London house and a few investments, but he wasn’t rich either.

  Granny was rich, which was why he’d accepted her offer, albeit grudgingly. He was hoping she would leave her money to one of them when she died, but Lizzie didn’t want to think about that. She was very fond of Lady Prior and she wanted her to live for years and years. Granny made more fuss of Lizzie than she did of the others, though she also had a soft spot for Nicolas – but, then, everyone loved him.

  A smile touched Lizzie’s lips as she thought of her brother. He was home from school for Christmas. Then he had another term at Eton, after which he would come home until the following autumn when he would go up to Oxford. The thought of his being home for Christmas made her smile. She was fond of all her family, but Nicolas was special.

  ‘Daydreaming again,’ Nic
olas’s voice hailed her from the doorway and she jumped, covering one of the parcels quickly so that he shouldn’t see his name.

  ‘I was just thinking about something,’ she said, as he entered the room and sat down at the table, stretching out his long legs. He was wearing riding breeches and they suited him. ‘Have you been out on Rufus?’

  ‘He was a bit restive so I gave him a good gallop.’ He eyed Lizzie thoughtfully. ‘Something is on your mind – out with it, princess.’

  ‘I was thinking of that girl at the dance, the one you showed how to do the two-step.’

  ‘She didn’t need much showing. She had a natural flow that made it easy to dance with her.’

  ‘Did you notice her boots? It must have been hard to dance in those things.’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’ He frowned. ‘I know Amy was rude about her a couple of times.’

  ‘That’s why you asked her to dance instead of Amy.’ Lizzie had known it all along but his look confirmed it. ‘I was thinking … she ought to have some pretty shoes … but I’m not sure what to do. Do you think she might be offended if I bought her a pair? Would she refuse to accept them, think I was being condescending or something?’

  ‘She might … unless …’ Nicolas smiled and rose to his feet. ‘Leave this to me, Lizzie. I’ll see to it in a way she can’t refuse.’ He turned to look at her from the doorway. ‘I’m shopping in Ely; anything special you would like for your gift?’

  ‘I never mind what you buy me – but I know Amy wants the silver bangle in the jeweller’s. It was right in the centre of the window when we were doing our shopping yesterday.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Nicolas said. ‘The bangle for Amy and a surprise for you.’ He blew her a kiss.

  ‘Don’t forget Emily Carter’s dancing shoes.’

  Nicolas nodded and went out, leaving Lizzie to the contemplation of her parcels once more.

  Her problem over the gift for Emily Carter was solved. Now she could forget about her and look forward to Christmas.

  It was Christmas Eve. The tree in the drawing room was so tall it almost touched the ceiling. Lizzie and Amy had helped decorate it, though Granny had directed them to put the delicate glass balls in a certain way, and she’d given them a silver star to place right at the top.

  ‘It should be a fairy,’ Amy had objected. ‘We always had a fairy at home.’

  ‘I think a star more appropriate,’ Lady Prior replied firmly. ‘Christmas is a religious occasion, Amy. We may choose to celebrate it with a special dinner, presents and a tree – but it is still Christ’s birthday and the star guided the shepherds to the stable where he lay.’

  ‘It’s lovely, Granny,’ Lizzie said, because she could see the storm brewing in Amy’s eyes. ‘I think it’s nicer than a fairy – and we shouldn’t forget the true meaning of Christmas.’

  Amy glowered at her, but Lizzie ignored her sister. It was Christmas and she didn’t want to quarrel, especially as they had guests for dinner on Christmas Eve. Lizzie didn’t know all the people her grandmother had invited. She supposed that most of them would be old like Granny herself, but perhaps one or two would be younger.

  Now the evening had arrived and Lizzie wasn’t disappointed. Most of the guests were older, but a couple of young girls had been invited – and Sir Arthur Jones. Lizzie had seen him in Ely once or twice, though he’d never spoken to them. She knew that he was very rich and had only recently come to live nearby. He’d bought a big house, not a new one but a grand house built in the Georgian era, and only a matter of half an hour’s ride on horseback from Priorsfield Manor. Granny had invited him to be their guest and Lizzie liked him at once.

  She supposed he must be in his late twenties or thirty at the most. He had dark hair, grey eyes and a sensitive mouth, and his face looked a little craggy. Granny had told her that he’d been to South America returning only a few months before deciding to settle here. It was said that he’d discovered a valuable emerald mine and the shares were due to be sold at the Stock Exchange soon. Lizzie thought that sounded very exciting and she would have liked to ask him about it, but Amy was talking to him and he didn’t seem to have noticed Lizzie at all.

  She wasn’t really surprised. Lizzie was not quite seventeen and Amy was nineteen. Lizzie was pretty but Amy was beautiful. More than that, she was regal. When she entered the room everyone stopped talking and turned to look at her. Lizzie knew that she had several admirers, but they were all farmers and Amy wanted more than they could give her.

  If Papa hadn’t lost his money, Amy would have had her season in London the previous year. She’d been taken to local dinners and parties, but as yet the talk of Granny paying for her to have a season had come to nothing.

  Noticing the way Amy was laughing up at Sir Arthur, Lizzie supposed that her sister must like him a lot. She couldn’t blame her. Lizzie thought he looked nice and she liked the warmth of his laugh. She wished he would notice her, but he had eyes only for Amy.

  Lizzie didn’t normally envy her sister, but this time she couldn’t help wishing that Amy had gone to stay with friends for Christmas, as she’d talked of doing a few weeks earlier. Perhaps then Sir Arthur would have noticed Lizzie.

  ‘What are you looking so glum about?’ Nicolas sat down next to her, and then followed the direction of her gaze. ‘He’s much too old for you, princess. You’ll find a prince of your own one day, and he’ll be the luckiest man alive.’

  Lizzie giggled, because Nicolas always made her feel better. ‘Let’s hope Amy is away then or married, because when she’s around no one notices me.’

  ‘If they don’t they are idiots,’ Nicolas said and reached into his pocket, bringing out a small parcel. ‘I put something under the tree for you, but I thought you deserved something special.’

  Lizzie accepted the small flat parcel and opened it. She looked at the beautiful gold compact inside and gave a squeal of pleasure. ‘It is so lovely, Nicolas. You always spoil me.’

  ‘You deserve it,’ he said and smiled. ‘By the way, I chose some white satin dancing slippers and had them sent straight from the shop. I got a size five as you suggested. They have a strap with a button and shaped heels. Miss Carter can change them if she wants but the shop owner won’t tell her where they came from, because I told him he mustn’t – made him swear it on pain of death.’

  ‘Nicolas, you didn’t,’ Lizzie said and her laughter pealed out. Sir Arthur turned his head and glanced at her. For a moment he looked interested, a smile on his lips, then Amy spoke and he turned back to her. Lizzie gave a faint sigh. He was clearly besotted. She would be foolish to even think of him, because while Amy wanted his attention she would have it. ‘I hope Emily likes them.’

  ‘She’s bound to, isn’t she? I don’t suppose she’s ever had anything like that – and she isn’t likely to again. Only my precious Lizzie would think of such a thing.’

  ‘No, I suppose she won’t.’ Lizzie was thoughtful. She had so much to be thankful for. They might have to live with Granny, who wasn’t always kind to Mama and made it clear she expected them to live by her rules, but she wasn’t poor like Emily Carter.

  Lizzie didn’t know what it would be like to live on a farm and she didn’t want to. Granny’s housekeeper had appeared, calling them all in for dinner. The parcels under the tree would be opened later, just before the family went to bed. Lizzie knew she would have several gifts, though nothing would please her as much as the gold compact Nicolas had given her. He offered her his arm, taking her into the dining room.

  Sir Arthur was escorting Amy, of course. Granny had placed them side by side. Lizzie supposed Sir Arthur was the latest attempt on their grandmother’s part to find Amy a husband without going to the expense of a London season. If Amy liked him, she might get her way, though Lizzie couldn’t help hoping she wouldn’t.

  It was ridiculous of her to hope, because what man in his right mind would want Lizzie when he could have Amy?

  Chapter 7

  Christmas morning d
awned fine and bright. Emily yawned, got out of bed and threw back the curtains. Early yet, the wintry sun glistened on white crystals of ice that had formed on bushes, withered flowers in wooden tubs, and the roofs of the cow byre and the milking parlour. She saw her father heading towards the cowsheds and knew what had woken her. Even at Christmas Pa had the same chores as on every other day.

  Dressing hurriedly, and trying not to wake her little brother, she went softly downstairs, pulled on her old coat and shoes and followed her father to the milking parlour. Ma would need help with the dinner later but if Jack slept on, she wouldn’t be up for another hour and Emily was concerned about her father. The cough he’d developed in the summer had worsened as the weather got colder and she could hear him as she opened the door and went in.

  ‘What are you doing up, Em?’ he asked, turning to look at her. ‘It’s Christmas morning. You should be making tea and toast and opening your presents.’

  ‘I’ll open them later, when we’ve done the milking,’ she said, her heart warmed and filled with love. ‘It won’t hurt me to give you a hand. Ma won’t start on the dinner for another hour.’

  Pa nodded and handed her a pail. She picked up a stool, sat down at Bess’s side and pressed her face into the cow’s warm belly as she began to stroke her teats with practised fingers, washing her udder before starting the milking process. The milk squirted into the pail, coming easily as the placid Bess munched in contentment. Moving on from Bess, Emily tipped the milk into the churn and turned to the next cow in line. Neither she nor Pa felt a need to speak, their silence companionable and in tune with each other. It was the morning of Christ’s birth and for this little moment in time all was well with their world.

  Leaving Pa and Bert, who had turned up at the last moment, to put the churns on the wagon, Emily went up to the house. She washed her hands at the deep stone sink and then filled the kettle. Fire glowed red between the iron bars at the front of the range. She poked at it and then shut the door so the heat intensified. Fetching a heavy pan down from the shelf above the range, she put dripping into it and began to fry bacon, eggs and leftover potatoes, crisping them at the edges. Plates had warmed in the oven beside the fire and Emily was just loading the food onto them when her father walked in. He washed his hands, looking round at her.