Read Candles in the Storm Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Tags: #Romance, #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction
Candles in the Storm (21 page)
Daisy hesitated for a moment and then advanced further into the room as she said quietly, ‘Not at all, ma’am. This is your home an’ you should be able to live as you please in it.’
‘Well said.’ The bonnet bobbed in approval. ‘My sentiments exactly. But we can’t always do what we should be able to do, my dear, as I’ve no doubt you have discovered even at your tender age. In my late father’s will he left me a portion of money - enough to buy this place - but the rest of my inheritance is in the form of an allowance which is controlled by Sir Augustus. Now, I am considerably older than my brothers and my father was well acquainted with the fact that I was not going to behave like a silly young thing, but still he decreed the allowance should come through my brother, his heir.’
Daisy didn’t know what to say and so she said nothing. She really wasn’t sure how to take her new mistress. Surely Sir Augustus’s sister shouldn’t be talking like this to a member of her staff? She didn’t imagine so anyway.
‘Because of this’ - Wilhelmina patted her chest over her heart - ‘it was made clear I should not entertain the idea of marriage. Indeed, if the doctors were to be believed I should not have reached my twenty-first birthday. But doctors are not always right. Remember that, child. Doctors are not always right. I believe I could have married and had a normal life. Certainly if I had known in my youth what I know now, my life would have been different.’
And then, with a sound of irritation deep in her throat, Wilhelmina said, ‘Don’t stand there like that. Come and sit down, here, in this chair next to the bed. And don’t be timid. You didn’t strike me as timid the last time we met. I can’t abide timidity in man or woman, that’s why so many of my previous companions have left in tears thinking me a wicked old woman. They allowed me to frighten and browbeat them, you see. No blood in their veins. Have you blood in your veins, Daisy?’
She hadn’t expected Sir Augustus’s sister to use her Christian name. These high-born folk seemed to favour their servants’ surnames from what she’d seen and heard at Greyfriar Hall. Daisy stared into her mistress’s lined face and hers was unsmiling as she said, ‘Aye, ma’am, I’ve blood in my veins.’
‘I thought so. Sit down then, child.’
Daisy sat, feeling somewhat bemused, and with scarcely a pause Wilhelmina continued, ‘Where was I? Oh, yes, timidity. It is bred in the type of woman who becomes a companion, you see, that’s the thing. When we spoke last it seemed to me you cared deeply for your father, that you loved him. Did you?’
With some bewilderment, Daisy said, ‘Very much, ma’am.’
The bonnet bobbed again. ‘Then you are fortunate. I hated mine. He was a bully, cold, sanctimonious, rigidly controlling every aspect of my childhood and youth. Because I was a high-spirited and imaginative child I was punished frequently. I rebelled, I am still rebelling, that’s why all this’ - she waved her arms to encompass the room - ‘is important to me. My father would have thought it disgraceful.’
The last words were said with a great deal of satisfaction and Wilhelmina stretched her scrawny neck as she peered at Daisy. ‘So, child, do you think we are going to get along?’
She had been right to think Miss Wilhelmina was like her granny. In her own way she was a fighter and determined nothing would get her down. Daisy was finding she liked the old lady more and more with each passing minute. ‘Yes, ma’am, I do,’ she said with a wide smile.
‘Good.’ Wilhelmina smiled back. Then she said with one of the mercurial changes of mood Daisy was to learn was habitual with her, ‘Kitty was concerned you would change your mind about taking up the position. She is starved of companionship, poor girl.’
‘She . . . she seems very nice, ma’am.’
‘Kitty? She has limited aspirations.’ It was said dismissively. ‘Now to practicalities. We cannot possibly have you walking around in those clothes. I have arranged for my dressmaker to call this morning at eleven oclock at which time she will measure you for the wardrobe required of my companion. You will need day dresses, afternoon attire and at least two or three evening dresses, along with coats, capes, stoles, gloves. And nightwear . . . new nightwear and underwear. The shoemaker is calling tomorrow afternoon and the milliner an hour later. Be firm with him, very firm. He is Italian.’ This was obviously felt to be adequate explanation.
‘But, ma’am?’
‘Yes?’
‘The clothes . . . I can’t . . .’
‘My companion is a reflection of myself, Daisy. You must be properly attired at all times. Life is informal on the whole at Evenley House, but on the occasions I have guests for dinner you will be expected to join us and you will be suitably dressed. Do you understand me? Added to which . . .’
Now it was Daisy who enquired, ‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘My dear brother has graciously consented to pay all your expenses including your wardrobe. Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we?’
And for a moment Wilhelmina Fraser looked positively roguish.
Chapter Nine
It was now summer, a full-blown one in which hollyhocks, delphiniums, sweet-peas, ox-eye daisies, roses and a host of other flowers provided a glorious display of colour, and scented the garden of Evenley House with their heady fragrance. In the kitchen garden behind the house, runner beans, potatoes, carrots, and all manner of vegetables contentedly grew fat, while the small orchard beyond the kitchen garden looked set to produce a bumper crop of apples, pears and plums.
Daisy found it hard to believe she had only been living in these wonderful surroundings for three months. She looked forward to her half-day every Sunday at the fishing village, of course, and still missed her granny more than a little, but she had to admit that there barely seemed enough hours in the day in which to enjoy all the new experiences flooding into her life.
And there was William . . . Daisy paused just a moment before continuing to button the bodice of the afternoon dress she was changing into. This was one of the formalities her mistress insisted on; morning attire was strictly that. Once luncheon had been served and eaten a fresh outfit was the order of the day, and should they have a visitor or Miss Wilhelmina feel up to eating in the dining room in the evening then one of Daisy’s three evening dresses must be worn.
The last button secured, Daisy inspected her reflection in the mirror on the door of the wardrobe. A sparkling-eyed face stared back at her, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted in happy anticipation. William had told her the night before that he would accompany his father on Sir Augustus’s weekly visit to Evenley House, and she knew he usually arrived at two o’clock and left two hours later. It was now ten to two.
Daisy lifted her hands to her hair which was arranged on top of her head in a thick shining coil, patting it even though there wasn’t a strand out of place. William said he had never seen hair with such a sheen to it, like raw silk he’d described it. But then he said so many nice things, and yesterday evening had been no exception. He had taken to calling several times a week lately, and at least one or two of these visits were in the late evening, often when Miss Wilhelmina had already retired for the night, or else when her mistress was having a bad day and had taken a rest in the afternoon. On those occasions it would be just the two of them in the drawing room, and once the weather had become so hot she had consented to take a walk with him in the garden a few times.
Daisy now pressed her hands to her cheeks which burnt at the memory. They were heavenly, those times, and yesterday had been the best of all. She was always very careful to make appropriate conversation, but at one point William had stopped in the middle of what he was saying and taken her hand, telling her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She quivered now, much the way she had done the previous evening. She had seemed to drown in the blue of his eyes before she had come to herself and had the presence of mind to remove her hand from his, but even as she had thanked him most properly for the compliment she had known her face was alight with joy. That was the trouble when she was with William, it was difficult to contain her feelings as any nice young woman should. But he more than made up for all the spite and hostility which came her way from Gladys and Harold Murray, and the slights Josiah Kirby always managed to inflict when he accompanied his master on his visits.
As though her thoughts had conjured up the occupants of Greyfriar Hall Daisy heard the carriage scrunching to a halt outside her open window, and with one final glance in the mirror she turned and left the room.
‘You ought to be a fly on the wall here, Mr Kirby.’ Gladys was talking, her chins wobbling with indignation as she passed a plate of freshly made bilberry tarts and another of hot girdle scones to the valet. ‘Brass-faced she is. Aye, brass-faced the way she makes up to Mr William. An’ the airs and graces she puts on! By, you’d think she was a lady born an’ bred, you would straight, and butter don’t melt in her mouth where the parson’s concerned. She’s pulled the wool over the mistress’s eyes from the first day she walked in here.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me, Mrs Murray.’ Josiah bit into a bilberry tart, smacking his lips before he said, ‘Your pastry melts in the mouth as always.’
‘Oh, Mr Kirby.’ Gladys simpered her appreciation. He was such a gentleman.
‘But as I was saying, it doesn’t surprise me the girl has wheedled her way in, Mrs Murray. Didn’t I warn you she would do just that very thing before she started? I told you to be on your guard because I’d got her measure all right. She’s a strumpet. No decent man is safe around her, not the young master or the parson. She’d have them both and think nothing of it.’
‘She’s turned our Kitty’s head an’ all.’ This was from Harold who had been quietly munching his way through a plateful of hot girdle scones dripping with butter.
‘Aye, she has.’ Gladys nodded her agreement vigorously. ‘Kitty won’t hear a word against the girl’ - the three of them rarely referred to their common enemy by name - ‘and my lass has taken to going to the fishing village of a Sunday afternoon alongside her. Thinks the sun shines out of her backside, my Kitty does, and no mistake.’
‘You want to stop her going to that village.’ Josiah’s face was grim now. ‘It’s no place for a girl like your daughter, Mrs Murray, an innocent. There’s some there who’d get her working the Sunderland waterfront for a bob a time as soon as look at her.’
‘Oh! Oh, I told you, Harold, didn’t I? I said to him we had to stop Kitty going, but the lass was determined and the mistress had given her blessing so . . .’ Gladys shrugged beefy shoulders. ‘The mistress has even ordered I get a basket of this an’ that for the girl to take to her granny each week,
and
’ - here the cook’s red face grew redder still with indignation - ‘she inspects it afore the girl goes.’
and
’ - here the cook’s red face grew redder still with indignation - ‘she inspects it afore the girl goes.’
Gladys didn’t add here that she had been chary about including all the items her mistress had listed for her to pack, a fact which had come to light when Wilhelmina had enquired of Daisy if her grandmother had enjoyed the roast chicken in cranberries - the same roast chicken in fact that Gladys and Harold had had for their supper.
Josiah shook his head sorrowfully as he finished the tart and reached for one of the warm scones which were filling the kitchen with their fragrance. He had his own opinion of his master’s sister but wouldn’t have dreamt of expressing it to Gladys and Harold. He deemed it in his own best interest to keep the relationship between the Murrays and himself cordial - they were a useful source of information as to the goings-on within this household, and the master liked to be kept informed about his sister’s callers. Personally, however, Josiah had little time for Miss Wilhelmina’s staff. As for the lady herself, there were occasions - as in the matter of the fishergirl, for instance - when Miss Wilhelmina behaved in a manner distinctly unbecoming to the Fraser name. When he thought of the licence his master’s sister had given that chit!
Josiah had been privy to some of the old lady’s outrageous views in the past while attending his master, views on matters no real lady should concern herself with, and to his mind his master’s sister had gone a little funny in the head in her old age.
‘. . . don’t you think, Mr Kirby?’
He came back to his surroundings to realise the cook had been speaking and he hadn’t heard a word. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Murray? I was enjoying your delicious cooking too much.’
Gladys wriggled with pleasure. ‘I was just saying she needs taking down a peg or two, the fishergirl.’
‘Indeed. Yes, indeed. But be patient and it will happen. All her fine clothes’ - and Sir Augustus had been apoplectic when he had received the bills for those - ‘won’t make a scrap of difference in the long run, you mark my words.’
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