The Downstairs Maid (11 page)

She accepted the small envelope, which smelled of Granny’s lavender water, then went through to the gun room and selected some stout boots and a long, oversized duster-coat to put on over her clothes. She wound wool scarves about her neck and pushed an old hat of Nicolas’s down hard on her head. Amy would never go out looking like that but Lizzie didn’t care. She would be warm and no one would bother to look at her, and that suited her.

Leaving the house, she walked through the front gardens, by way of the long gravel drive. Ancient trees grew to either side of the drive, their branches sweeping down to touch the earth in places. Many of them were specimen trees and had been planted by her great grandfather. There were rose beds set into the lawns, alive with colour in the summer but in winter they looked bedraggled, the stems black and withered. Soon the gardeners would cut them down to get fresh growth but not before the frosts had finished.

The wind was chilly and the tip of Lizzie’s nose was pink by the time she reached the lane that led into the village. The old Rectory was close to the church and the vicar’s garden was small but always neat. His roses had been pruned in the winter and looked like little twigs, surrounded by a mulch of leaves that had decayed into the earth. She wondered if that was why he usually won the prize for the best roses at the village fete, annoying Grandmama every time when she had to take second place.

Lizzie was welcomed inside the Rectory and given a hot drink and one of Mrs Potter’s cinnamon buns. The vicar came hurrying in as she was eating it, full of apologies for keeping her waiting. He’d been giving lessons to the local children and been delayed because the curate had a sore throat and couldn’t take over from him.

‘I’m sure Peter will be better tomorrow, and if not Mrs Potter will sit in for me,’ he said. ‘Tell dear Lady Prior that I shall be delighted to call on her at eleven tomorrow, Miss Lizzie.’

Lizzie thanked him and his wife for the cocoa and bun. She pulled on the old coat again, and left the Rectory. If anything, it was even colder now, but she enjoyed the chance of some fresh air and exercise, because it was seldom that she got the chance to walk this far. It was as she was walking back through the lane, after leaving the village, that she saw the man coming towards her. He was, she supposed, in his early thirties, a tall, strong-looking man with black hair and dark eyes. His clothes proclaimed him a farmer, for he wore long boots similar to those Nicolas wore for riding but with straps at the side and heavy soles. His trousers were moleskin and fitted tightly to his thighs and he wore a tweed coat that fitted into the waist with a little belt at the back, the elbows patched with leather. He was wearing a hat but though he put a finger to it he didn’t remove it as most gentlemen did – but, of course, as Amy would say, he wasn’t a gentleman in the strict sense of the word.

‘Good morning, Miss Barton,’ he said and grinned at her.

Lizzie hesitated, because she normally didn’t speak to men she didn’t know, but the admiring look in his eyes made her forget her Mama’s warning.

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Derek,’ he said. ‘My name’s Derek. I farm over Chatteris way – been visiting my sister.’

‘How nice for her,’ Lizzie said politely. She was tempted to linger but then she saw Jonathan’s automobile coming towards her from the direction of the village. He slowed down, opened his door and told her to get in. ‘Goodbye …’

Jonathan looked at her as she slid into the seat next to him. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing, Lizzie? Talking to a man like that …’

‘He spoke to me and I said good morning, that’s all,’ Lizzie protested. ‘I wasn’t doing any harm, Jon.’

‘
You
might not have been but he was eyeing you up and down.’ Jonathan frowned. ‘What on earth are you dressed like that for?’

‘I thought it would keep me warm. I’ve been on an errand for Granny to the vicar.’

‘Well, be careful Mama doesn’t see you like that – and take my advice, Lizzie. Stay away from men of that kind. I don’t know him by name but I’ve seen him before. He isn’t a gentleman and I don’t want him hanging around my sister.’

Lizzie felt chastened. She’d only spoken a few words to the man and she couldn’t see what the fuss was about. She’d liked the way he looked at her, making her feel she was a pretty girl and not just Amy’s little sister. She wouldn’t have minded talking to him some more if her brother hadn’t come along – but she would probably never see him again.

Sometimes she thought she would be a child for ever. Would her family never allow her to have any fun? She wanted to be taken to dances and parties like Amy, instead of being stuck at home with her mother and Granny.

Of course the man she’d met wasn’t a gentleman, but she’d only wanted to talk, perhaps flirt a little.

Surely there couldn’t be any harm in that?

Emily smiled as she came from the dairy and saw Harry Standen talking to Pa. She knew that Harry had brought his bull to one of their cows that morning. Emily had heard the shouts from the yard behind the cowsheds but hadn’t gone to see what the fuss was all about. She had been busy all the morning, ironing and baking and polishing, and now she’d just finished churning the butter.

‘Good morning, Emily,’ Harry said and came to greet her. ‘Your pa asked me to stop for a cup of tea before I go. I’m glad to have seen you alone – I was wondering if you would come out with me one evening? We could go to the cinema or a concert – or there’s a dance on in Cambridge, if you fancied it?’

‘When is the dance?’

‘Not until next week.’

Emily thought quickly. She could make herself a skirt and use the bolero from the dress she’d worn at Christmas, and now she had those wonderful dancing slippers.

‘Then I’d love to go to the dance,’ she said and gave him a flashing smile. ‘Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea? We’ve been baking all morning – jam tarts and Ma’s famous seed cake.’

‘Thank you, I will,’ Harry said. ‘Ma told me to send you her good wishes, Emily. She liked you – thought you were a very pretty young lady. I do too …’ His neck heated as he spoke and Emily felt like laughing but kept her amusement inside. Harry was nice and she liked him.

Emily hadn’t thought about getting married yet. She was far too young and her ambition was to make something of herself before she settled down to marriage and children. Of course a man like Harry would provide a much better life than Pa had been able to give Ma, but Emily felt she wanted time to grow up, time to learn things and see a bit of life.

Not that Harry was thinking of marriage, of course. He just liked her – and it would be nice to go out with him sometimes, if her mother and Pa agreed.

When they went into the kitchen, Emily’s heart sank because Derek was sitting there already, having a cup of tea. He looked at them, his eyes narrowed and calculating, as if he were weighing Harry up and wondering why he was here. Emily felt his eyes on her as she took the can of milk she was carrying into the cool pantry and poured some of it into a jug. She brought it back to the table just as her mother poured fresh water into the teapot.

‘Well, this is nice, Mr Standen,’ Ma said. ‘How did things go in the yard?’

‘Very well. I’m sure your Annie will provide a decent calf for you in a few months.’

‘It was good of you to bring the bull yourself rather than just sending your stockman.’

‘I like to see a job done myself,’ Harry replied. ‘Besides, I have to admit that I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to see Emily – and to ask her out. She has said she will come to a dance with me next week – if that’s all right with you and Mr Carter?’

Ma looked at him, and then sent Emily a coy glance. ‘I’m sure I’ve no objection. We can trust you to look after Emily, Mr Standen. Joe won’t mind, as long as you have her back by eleven.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Harry said and sipped his tea. He’d accepted a piece of cake and ate it with evident enjoyment. ‘If Emily is half as good a cook as you, Mrs Carter, she’ll make someone a good wife one day.’

‘She will indeed,’ Ma said and preened. ‘I’ve taught her myself.’

Derek made a snort of disgust and pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll be off, I’ve got work to do,’ he said and shot a look of anger at Emily as he passed her. He slammed the kitchen door as he went out, but Emily ignored him.

Jack was whimpering in his playpen. Emily went over and picked him up, wiping his running nose with a handkerchief. She didn’t know why he seemed so vulnerable to colds and illnesses, and sometimes she thought he wasn’t just as he ought to be – a little slow or backward perhaps – but she hadn’t said anything to her mother, because she didn’t know for sure. Perhaps a lot of babies were this way.

She could hear the murmur of voices as Ma quizzed Harry about his farm and his mother, and then the scrape of a chair as he stood up.

‘That was very nice, Mrs Carter,’ he said. ‘I need to get on, but I’ll call for you Saturday next week, Emily.’

‘I shan’t forget. Thank you.’

Jack had stopped crying. She put him down and fetched his bottle of juice, watching as he sucked at it for a moment before turning away to clear the table.

‘You’ll need a new dress,’ her mother said.

‘I thought I would make a skirt and use the bolero I had at Christmas.’

‘You can borrow my best silk blouse,’ Ma said. ‘I’ve got a pattern. What you need is a nice bit of black wool or heavy satin to make a skirt. I’ll help you get it ready if you buy a length when you go to the market tomorrow.’

Emily was surprised, but there was a gleam in her mother’s eyes. Now what was she thinking?

‘I should like a pale colour rather than black,’ she said, thinking about her dancing slippers. ‘But I’m sure I’ll find something and I’ve got three shillings saved.’

She smiled to herself as she went upstairs. She hadn’t expected Harry to invite her out so soon, and she was excited – but she hoped Ma hadn’t got silly ideas that she was serious yet.

Emily did her mother’s shopping first that morning, and then headed towards the stall selling lengths of material. She had a good idea of what she wanted but wasn’t sure whether she would be able to afford the quality material she’d envisaged in her mind. At first glance everything she liked appeared to be too expensive, but then she discovered a length of fine cream suiting. With a pretty blouse it would do for dancing but she could also use it for church on Sunday.

She asked the stall keeper to measure it and there was just enough. The price was two shillings and sixpence, which meant she couldn’t afford a new blouse as well, but she could borrow Ma’s or wear her own best blouse and trim the high neck with a piece of lace.

She was turning away when she saw Christopher walking towards her through the market. Waiting for him, she greeted him with a smile.

‘Is this your lunch break?’ she asked.

‘Yes. I don’t often close the shop but I saw you so I thought I’d come out and have a word. I’m going for a pie and chips – would you like to come?’

Emily hesitated, and then glanced at the clock on the market square. Pa had gone on an errand and told her he would be back in an hour. She had half an hour left.

‘I have to meet Pa soon, but I might have a glass of lemonade and pinch one or two of your chips.’

Christopher laughed and agreed, offering her his arm. They crossed the market square again and went into the café. Christopher directed her to a table and ordered their meal. He ordered her a pie and chips too, because, as he said, it didn’t matter if she didn’t eat them all.

Emily nodded, feeling pleased with the unexpected treat. She hadn’t expected to see Christopher unless she popped into the shop. He told her that he’d been busy. He’d sold several small things that week and also the set of yew chairs Pa had bought from Harry Standen.

‘I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime,’ Christopher said just as their food arrived. ‘Just for a drink or a concert or something.’

Emily considered. Harry had asked her out and she’d said yes, but she liked Christopher too, and surely there was no harm in going out with friends? She wasn’t actually courting anyone. She nodded but when he suggested Saturday of the following week, she told him she already had an engagement that night. He looked crestfallen, but she said she would meet him for lunch on the following Thursday and he cheered up.

Emily found him easy to talk to and enjoyed her meal. She thanked him and left when she spotted Pa’s wagon draw up near the shop.

‘I’ll see you next week,’ she said and ran out to meet her father. He turned his head to look at her, arching one eyebrow.

‘Where were you, Em?’

‘Having pie and chips with Christopher. I’m going to do it again next week.’

‘He’s a nice lad,’ her father said and nodded. ‘Ready to leave then?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ve got all I want …’ She looked in the wagon and saw some scrap metal. ‘Did you buy what you wanted?’

‘Some of it. I had another errand …’ He shook his head when she arched her brow at him.

Emily wondered where he went when he left her to shop alone. He wasn’t seeing another woman? No, not Pa. He might not love Ma but he wasn’t a cheat. Still, there was some mystery, unless … she wondered if he’d been to the doctor. Glancing at his coat pocket, she saw the bulge and knew she’d solved the puzzle. Pa had been to get something for that cough.

It was spitting with rain as they left the market and drove past the shops in the High Street. Emily caught sight of Derek. He was talking to a young girl, arguing with her. She couldn’t see the girl’s face but she was almost sure it was Carla Bracknell …

‘I like Christopher,’ Pa said. ‘He hasn’t got much to offer yet, but one day he’ll do all right. You’ll see, Emily. He’s a bright young man.’

Emily smiled and nodded. She liked Christopher too and she was glad she’d arranged to meet him again.

Derek Black was in a temper. He was helping out at his brother-in-law’s farm, as he often did these days, replacing a rotten fence. He hammered the wooden fencing stakes into the ground with a fury that almost split the thick wood. If that stupid girl opened her mouth he was going to be in trouble. She’d loved what they did together at the beginning and vowed she would never tell another soul, but the little bitch was getting greedy, always demanding more and more from him. She was always at him, wanting him to give it to her. Not that he minded that, but she’d been dropping some worrying hints recently … asking what he felt about being together for always and putting her hands on her stomach suggestively. He’d tried to buy her off with presents, giving her a silver locket she’d coveted in the window of a jeweller in Ely, and some chocolates, but the previous night, when they’d met outside her father’s pub, she’d whispered something in his ear that terrified him.