Farewell to Lancashire (26 page)

Mrs Barrett eyed Cassandra’s black clothing doubtfully and then her short hair. ‘When did your husband die?’

‘A few days ago,’ Mrs Rainey said for her. ‘He was killed in an accident, a runaway horse and cart. It was very sudden, and our young friend was just recovering from pneumonia when it happened.’

Mrs Barrett’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, how sad!’

‘Are you sure you should be making such a big change to your life?’ Mr Barrett asked, looking at Cassandra doubtfully. ‘It’s very early days. And we need someone who can work hard and help my wife.’

‘I have only my sisters in the world now,’ Cassandra said. ‘I want more than anything else to go to Australia with them.’ She turned back to Mrs Barrett and spoke from the heart, ‘I’m not trained to be a lady’s maid, but I promise you I’ll do my very best if you show me what you need. I’m a quick learner and a hard worker.’

‘Can you sew?’

‘Yes. Well, I can mend and I’ve been learning to embroider and make clothes.’

‘I hate mending,’ Mrs Barrett said. ‘But I love embroidering.’

She smiled suddenly at Cassandra, who concentrated on the thought of her sisters and dredged up a smile in return. ‘I’m sorry about your husband. If you’d like to work your passage as my maid, you can come on board with us tomorrow. We’ll pay you wages, of course.’

‘But not as much as a fully-trained maid,’ her husband said quickly.

‘The cabin passengers board later than the emigrants and you won’t be sleeping with them on the ship. You’ll share a small cabin near us with another lady’s maid.’

But Mr Barrett was still frowning. ‘What happened to your hair? Why was it cropped?’

She knew they cropped the hair of women who went into prison and stiffened. ‘They cut it short when I was ill, to conserve my strength.’

‘We keep telling her it looks well enough,’ Mr Rainey said. ‘But young women care about these things, do they not?’

Mr Barrett was still frowning. ‘You know about it, then, why it was done?’

‘Of course I do. And I’ll not mince my words. There isn’t time. I appreciate that you’re worried it might have been done because she was imprisoned.’ Mr Rainey laughed. ‘That was definitely not the case with Cassandra. I give you my solemn word on that.’

Mr Barrett’s expression lightened.

‘What about the emigration agent?’ Mr Rainey asked. ‘What will he say about the changes?’

‘I don’t think we’ll tell anyone she’s not Hilda until after the ship has sailed. They probably won’t even ask, so we won’t actually have to
lie
. I don’t want to risk my dear wife having no help on the voyage, not in her condition. You’d better move to our hotel today, Lawson. We’ll need to get up very early in the morning.’

‘I wonder if Cassandra could stay here and join you tomorrow as you board the ship.’ Mrs Rainey smiled apologetically. ‘It’s the last time we’ll see our young friend and we’d like to be with her for as long as possible.’

Mr Barrett looked annoyed. ‘I don’t want my wife troubled with packing the luggage and overseeing its removal to the ship. That sort of thing is part of a maid’s job.’

‘I’ll come now, if you wish,’ Cassandra offered quickly, terrified of losing this opportunity. ‘I’m sure my friends will understand. I just need to pack my night things.’

‘I’ll come up with you,’ Mrs Rainey said.

When the luggage was packed, Cassandra burst into tears. ‘I can’t believe how generous you’ve been. I don’t know how to thank you. What I’d have done without your help doesn’t bear thinking of.’

‘“Love thy neighbour,”’ Mrs Rainey said. ‘We don’t need thanks for helping you. But when you’re more comfortably circumstanced, perhaps you could try to help others who’re in need?’

‘I shall. I promise you.’

Cassandra sat in a cab with her new employers, listening to Melissa Barrett prattle about nothing and watching Simon Barrett smile at his wife fondly. Neither of them spoke to her, or even seemed to notice her during the short journey to their hotel.

Once there, she helped her mistress finish her packing and was given a lesson in laying out clothes for the evening. She found she was to eat with other servants in a separate dining room and felt shy as she made her way there. How different these people were from the Raineys, who treated Phyllis more as a friend than a servant and who had been so kind to Cassandra.

She found that the group of servants at the hotel had their own hierarchy and looked down their noses at her when she said she was only a temporary lady’s maid. She felt very out of place with them and couldn’t summon up the energy even to chat to them. She forced food down, knowing she had to keep her strength up.

The sense of unreality persisted but she tried hard to pay attention as she helped Mrs Barrett change into her nightclothes. She must have given satisfaction, because her new mistress said approvingly, ‘You do learn quickly. That’s going to be a big help. And I shall enjoy teaching you to be a lady’s maid. It’ll give me something to do on board the ship.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you very much.’

Melissa sighed. ‘To tell you the truth, Lawson, I wish my dear husband hadn’t been sent out to Australia. He’s to work for the government out there, you know. He has no need to work because I have a private income, but he says a gentleman must make his mark upon the world. We’re only going to be there for a few years, thank goodness. But I’m not looking forward to the long voyage. So tedious.’

This time when Cassandra went to bed in a tiny comfortless room in the attics, she didn’t fall asleep easily. She didn’t feel safe until she’d pulled her luggage across the door. And even so, her thoughts churned round in circles. In the middle of the night, she woke from a nightmare to find tears on her cheeks.

This was doing no good, she scolded herself. She must look forward not backward. But that was easier to say than to do, because you couldn’t control nightmares, could you?

She was relieved when one of the chambermaids knocked on her bedroom door while it was still dark and told her it was time to get her mistress ready for an early start. She quickly packed her own nightclothes and took her bag down with her.

Mrs Barrett was yawning over a cup of tea and there was no sign of Mr Barrett. ‘Is that all the luggage you’ve got?’

‘I have a trunk as well, but I packed in a hurry and may not have all that’s necessary.’

‘Well, Simon says there’s no way of getting Hilda’s trunk off the ship, so I shall give her things to you.’

‘I couldn’t take them!’

‘They’ll just be thrown away if you don’t.
I
certainly don’t want them.’

‘Oh.’

‘Besides, how would it look to have a maid who didn’t have the proper clothes? You must take the trunk and make up your own deficiencies from it.’

‘Very well, ma’am.’

Mrs Barrett nodded approval. ‘Now, please help me dress. We don’t want to be late or Simon will be annoyed. I’m not used to waking so early.’

She prattled the whole time, talking of nothing worthwhile, in Cassandra’s opinion. But at least it filled the silence. Being a maid clearly involved a lot of listening and agreeing with her mistress.

It was raining hard as they went on board the
Tartar
and Mrs Barrett kept up a steady commentary as she and her husband were shown to their cabin, complaining about everything she saw. Cassandra walked behind them in silence, carrying her own portmanteau. She stared round, fascinated by this new world and felt her spirits lift a little at the novelty of her surroundings. She’d always wanted to travel, hadn’t she?

Because of the bad weather there were no passengers on deck, so she couldn’t see her sisters yet. She must trust Mr Rainey’s assurances that they were on the passenger list, even if under incorrect names.

The Barretts’ cabin was small but well fitted out. It had two bunk beds and enough room for a small table and sofa. These were screwed to the floor and the dining chairs were attached to the wall by leather straps until needed.

When the cabin trunks were brought in, they were set upright in a space at the inner end of the cabin. They opened to show drawers full of everything the Barretts could need during the journey.

Mrs Barrett flung herself on the sofa, dabbing at her eyes. Her husband went to her side, tossing over his shoulder, ‘Perhaps you’d show my wife’s maid where she’s to sleep?’

The steward touched Cassandra’s arm. ‘If you’ll come with me, miss?’

‘It’s Mrs,’ she corrected. ‘Mrs Lawson.’

After closing the cabin door, he said, ‘They don’t usually have married maids.’

‘I’m a widow.’

She was shown into a very narrow chamber without a porthole. It contained two bunk beds and not much else.

He looked at her, grinning. ‘Ever been on a ship before?’

‘No, I haven’t. I’d be grateful for any advice you can offer me.’

‘Well, we have to work together, so the sooner I teach you what to do, the easier my job of looking after your employers will be. Which bunk do you want?’

‘I don’t mind. Who is the other person?’

‘Another maid, according to the list. She’s not come on board yet.’ There was a call of ‘Steward!’ and he looked over his shoulder, sighing. ‘What do they want now? I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’

A few minutes later he returned accompanied by a scrawny older lady. ‘This is Miss Pershore. Mrs Lawson.’

The newcomer paid no attention to the introductions, too busy staring round in horror. ‘I can’t spend three months in a tiny space like this! You must find me another cabin immediately, one on my own. My mistress will pay whatever is necessary. She can’t have understood what was involved when her brother purchased our passages. She’d
never
have expected me to put up with such a – a cupboard.’

The steward’s face lost its friendly smile and turned into a polite mask. ‘I’m afraid there isn’t anywhere else, Miss Pershore, however much your mistress is willing to pay.’

She moaned and sagged against the door frame.

‘Actually, it’s not a bad little cabin. You two are private, at least. The female emigrants are all crowded together below, but there’s only the two of you here. I’m sure you and Mrs Barrett’s maid will get on well and be able to help one another.’ He indicated Cassandra again.

‘I should refuse to go,’ Miss Pershore said with a doleful sniff. ‘And I would, if I wasn’t so fond of my mistress. I’ve worked for her for thirty years, but she’s never asked me to do anything like go to Australia before, never! Her younger son is out there and she’s determined to visit him. I’m sure it’ll be the death of us both.’

‘Well, let me show you how to stow your bags when they’re not in use. Which bunk do you want?’

‘I must have the bottom one. I can’t possibly climb up there, not at my age.’

‘I’m happy to take the top bunk,’ Cassandra said.

‘There,’ said the steward in an over-hearty voice, ‘Didn’t I say you ladies would get on well?’ He winked at Cassandra. ‘Now, let me show you the amenities, then I have to check on my passengers.’

The passengers were to relieve themselves in cupboard-like water closets, one for the gentlemen and one for the ladies. ‘You can’t be going down to the emigrants’ quarters, so you’ll have to use these,’ the steward told them.

Miss Pershore nodded, tight-lipped.

‘You can get as much sea water as you want to wash yourselves with, but fresh water for drinking is obtained from me. You’ll need to be careful with that, and so will your mistress. We can’t afford to waste it.’

‘I shouldn’t have to carry the water at my age!’ Miss Pershore said faintly.

Cassandra had intended to ask him how she could get to see her sisters, but she didn’t like to do that in front of Miss Pershore. And anyway, the steward seemed very busy, poor man.

When he’d left, the older lady sat on the lower bunk, dabbing her eyes and muttering that she didn’t know what the world was coming to, she really didn’t.

Cassandra climbed up to her own bunk and decided it was much nicer on top, without someone lying above you. But it was still a very small cabin and she didn’t think Miss Pershore was going to be a pleasant companion.

Still, she was going with her sisters to Australia. That’s what mattered most. The bad times were over. She must put them behind her.

W
hen word came from the watcher Isabel had hired to say the ship had sailed and that Cassandra Blake had definitely not joined the group of emigrants from Lancashire, Isabel beamed at the letter and danced round her parlour. ‘I did it! I did it!’

Dot, who had brought up the morning tea tray her mistress had ordered, backed down the stairs and came up again, pretending to bump herself on the landing post and exclaiming a little more loudly than was necessary. When she went into the parlour, she found Mrs Blake seated by the window, looking flushed, her eyes glittering, her fingers plucking at her skirt.

‘Set it down there.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else you need, ma’am?’

‘Yes, you can send for Mr Studdard. It’s time to bury Mr Blake.’

‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll find a lad and—’