The Downstairs Maid (25 page)

Christopher had seemed very serious that evening when he came, and Emily asked what was wrong.

‘Did you hear about that foreign archduke?’ he’d asked her and she nodded. ‘It was in all the papers when he was assassinated back in June. It’s going to mean war Emily and this country will be dragged into it. I don’t see how we can avoid it.’

‘You wouldn’t join up?’ She looked at him in alarm. ‘Christopher, you wouldn’t?’

‘I’ll have to. It’s my duty.’

‘What will happen to the shop if you go? Pa couldn’t manage it without you.’

‘I know – but I’ll have to go once it starts. I’m going to tell your father this week when he comes.’

‘He will be disappointed.’

‘I couldn’t stay safe at home while others were fighting for king and country.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you could,’ Emily said, shivering as the horror of it came home to her. ‘I shall miss you, even if I don’t often see you.’

‘I’ll miss seeing you too,’ he said and hesitated. ‘Will you come out with me next time you have an afternoon off?’

‘It won’t be for three weeks.’

‘We’ll make it a date then. I’ll close the shop for an afternoon, leave a note in the window and work a bit later at night to make up for it.’ He gave her an oddly shy look. ‘Are you sure you want to come?’

Emily assured him she did and thanked him; she hugged his arm as he walked her home. Just before they got to the kitchen door, he aimed a kiss at her cheek, and then blushed. Emily thought of the intimate kisses she’d shared with Harry, but Christopher was different. He clearly intended to take things slowly. She kissed him back on the cheek.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said and went into the kitchen.

‘Wool gathering again? Got something on your mind, Emily?’

Mrs Hattersley’s words broke into her thoughts and she jumped. She was supposed to be scrubbing the table, not staring into space. She rinsed her cloth and finished wiping the table down. ‘Sorry, Cook. What did you say?’

‘I asked you to fetch me some beans if Mr Saunders has any. If not bring the last of the asparagus or broccoli – or whatever is going.’

‘I was thinking of something …’ She looked Mrs Hattersley in the eye. ‘Do you think there will be a war?’

Mrs Hattersley had been stirring a sauce on the range. She removed the pan and poured the sauce into a jug.

‘Mr Payne thinks it will happen soon.’

‘A friend of mine is going to join up when it does. He’s taking me to the pictures on my next day off.’

‘Let’s hope it hasn’t started before then,’ Mrs Hattersley said. ‘I don’t know what will happen here. Mr Jonathan can’t be spared but Mr Nicolas may feel it his duty – and some of the footmen and gardeners may go.’

Emily felt cold all over. ‘I don’t understand why our men have to go off and fight because some Austrian archduke was murdered.’

‘It’s all to do with treaties and quarrels between Serbia and Austria and France. We signed up to help if our allies were in trouble and we have to keep our word.’ She looked at Emily oddly. ‘I didn’t know you had a young man?’

‘Christopher is just a friend that’s all. He works for my father in the shop.’

There was a gorgeous smell coming from the oven. Cook bent down and took out a treacle tart. She poured her sauce over it and placed it to one side. A plate of small tarts went into the oven.

‘I’ve seen your father’s shop. Looks like a load of old rubbish to me, though I did see a nice silver vase in the window once.’

‘Most of it looks like junk to me too,’ Emily said with a laugh. ‘I suppose Pa may have to close the shop until after the war.’

‘There will be a lot of that going on,’ Mrs Hattersley said and frowned. ‘Think yourself lucky your father is too old to join up. A lot of wives and mothers are going to be weeping before long.’

Emily didn’t answer her but tears burned behind her eyes. She was glad Pa wouldn’t have to go but most of the young men would sign up. The thought of all those men being killed or maimed for life made her want to weep. War was horrible. She’d read about all the men who had died of fevers and dysentery in the Crimea and her heart ached for what was coming. Why did anyone want to go to war?

She blinked hard and pushed the thought from her mind. It would soon be the day of the fete and everyone at Priorsfield was looking forward to it, even though it would mean lots of hard work.

‘It’s a lovely day for it,’ Mrs Hattersley said as Emily joined her in the kitchen that Saturday morning. They had both of them risen early so as to get a good start on the refreshments for the party. The family would still need to be fed, though it was tradition that they had a good breakfast and then a light buffet at lunch. ‘I should think there will be a decent crowd with the weather like this – and especially because it may be a while before anything of the kind happens again.’

‘Because of the war?’

‘Things will be different once it starts. We might not get all the supplies we need and we’re bound to lose staff. One of the Phillips brothers has already gone off to join up. He’ll be leaving as soon as it starts.’

‘Was it Tomas?’

‘No. I dare say he knows he’s on to a good thing here and will stick it out until the last. It was his brother.’

‘He is brave to go off before he needs to, don’t you think?’

‘Brave or daft,’ Mrs Hattersley said, beating eggs in a bowl. She’d already fried bacon, sausages, kidneys and triangles of bread, which were keeping hot under silver covers. ‘Let’s get these breakfasts out of the way and then we can start on the sandwiches and pastries. You baked most of the cakes yesterday and the jellies I made have set overnight in the pantry.’

Emily had been told all this before but didn’t mind going over it again. ‘What about the fudge and the coconut ice and all the rest of it?’

‘They are better in the pantry where the footmen can’t get at them. If they get the chance they’ll disappear before they ever get to the stall.’

She laughed and got on with her work. They had to work hard in the kitchen but the fete was like a holiday and most of the staff would get a chance to visit the stalls or watch some of the games during the afternoon.

She worked solidly until ten as Mrs Hattersley had instructed and then began to load up her trays. They were using the older china, plain white and some Staffordshire blue and white dishes that were normally used in the kitchens. None of the expensive sets from Coalport or Derby or Minton were taken from the large cabinets where they were stored, because it was likely there would be breakages before the day was out.

Emily was sure of her way about the gardens now. Besides, it was easy to follow the stream of men and women walking back and forwards with various loads. The gardeners had baskets of fruit and vegetables, pot plants and cut flowers, which would either be raffled or used as a prize of some kind. Mary had been helping Miss Amy with clearing out the junk stored in a room kept for the purpose. She was carrying a pile of cushions, beaded purses, shoes and hats as they met and gave Emily a look of triumph.

‘I’m going to buy some of these things for myself,’ she said. ‘Miss Amy said I must take them all to the stall but then I can buy what I want when the fete starts.’

‘That is a pretty hat,’ Emily said looking at a green felt with a curling feather over the brim. Mary was gloating but Emily didn’t mind; she was enjoying herself carrying trays of food through the gardens on such a lovely day. ‘My mother would like that but you’ve got first choice, Mary.’

‘I like the shoes. They were Lady Barton’s and she’s hardly worn them but they fit me lovely. I shall wear them to go out with Ken when he takes me to the dance next week.’

‘Is it the one in Ely?’

‘At the corn exchange. It’s always good fun. Ken says he’s got something to tell me.’ She seemed pleased with herself and it was nice to see her in a good mood for once. Most of the staff were friendly once Emily got to know them but Mary was still a little sullen.

As the other girl trotted off with her treasures, Emily found her way to the cake stall. The vicar’s daughter Janet was running it and she welcomed Emily’s first contribution.

‘Oh, what lovely cakes,’ she said. ‘Did you make them?’

‘I made two of them and Mrs Hattersley made that one,’ Emily said. ‘I’ve got several more loads to bring so I shall have to make several journeys.’

‘You’ve been busy already.’

‘Cook said to stop the footmen pinching the sweets.’

Janet laughed. ‘I know them of old. I shall make them pay like everyone else.’

Emily nodded and turned away. In her hurry to return to the kitchen, she was walking fast round a bend in the path when she collided with someone. Looking up, she blushed as she saw it was Mr Nicolas who was carrying some more stuff for the white elephant stall.

‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ she apologised, her face on fire. ‘I was in a hurry.’ She bent down to pick up a silver vase and their heads touched again as he bent to retrieve something. ‘Sorry. I’m so stupid.’

‘Not at all,’ Nicolas contradicted, his eyes laughing at her. ‘I’ve seen you about since you started working here, but we haven’t bumped into each other before.’

‘No …’ She saw he was laughing and couldn’t help laughing too. ‘I’ll try to be more careful in future.’

‘Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it.’

Emily’s heart jerked. He was even better looking than she remembered; his pale, sensitive face smiling rather than pensive as it so often was. He had a soft mouth and eyes that challenged and provoked – and she had better get on with her work or she would catch it from Mrs Hattersley.

Just before she turned into the kitchen garden, she glanced back and saw that he was still watching her. Something made her smile and he saluted her, dropping one of his books again. Emily couldn’t help laughing, though once she was out of sight she ran to make up for lost time. Whatever was she doing, dallying with the son of the house? Yet he was so charming that no one could blame her for responding to his teasing.

‘You took your time,’ Mrs Hattersley said when she entered the kitchen. ‘I’ve baked some more almond tarts because we’re bound to need them for the refreshment tent. They always run out before the end of the day.’

Emily loaded her tray and set off again. She couldn’t help looking for Mr Nicolas but he was nowhere to be seen, though she met Miss Amy carrying an armful of clothes.

‘Oh, Emily,’ Amy said. ‘You couldn’t take these to the secondhand stall for me, could you?’

‘Yes, of course I can, Miss Amy.’

Emily took the clothes, including some lovely dresses, which smelled of Amy’s perfume – something delicate and light and expensive. A trip to the second-hand stall would take her longer but she couldn’t refuse a request from her employer’s daughter. Leaving the clothes with the lady looking after the stall, she was about to start back to the kitchen when the lady asked, ‘What am I to charge for these?’

Emily was surprised by her question. ‘I don’t know. Miss Amy just told me to bring them – but I should think they ought to be worth quite a bit. That blue dress is gorgeous.’

‘Would you like me to put it aside for you?’

‘Well … yes, please,’ Emily said. ‘I’ll come and look once the stalls are open. If I can afford it I’ll buy it.’

She thanked her and walked away. A dress like that when new would cost more than she earned in a year, perhaps longer – but from a second-hand stall it might not be more than the six shillings Emily had to spend. If it was more she would just have to apologise and tell the obliging stall minder to put it out for general sale.

‘Well, I think that all went well,’ Nicolas said to his sisters as they relaxed under the shade of a tree with a cup of tea. ‘Father’s speech was well received and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.’

‘Yes, I think they always do,’ Amy smiled at him. ‘We’ve all done our bit. I think the clothes I donated have all been sold – as has most of Mama’s junk. The cake stall was cleared halfway through the afternoon and I saw Emily practically running backwards and forwards with plates for the refreshment tent.’

‘It was all rather splendid,’ Nicolas said. ‘She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? I’d hardly noticed her about the place until we bumped into each other earlier this morning.’

‘Emily is actually quite pretty,’ Amy said. ‘I thought she was just another farm girl at first, but she isn’t. I like her – much more than Mary. I’m thinking of asking her to come with me as my maid when I go up to London next week.’

‘Is it agreed that you’re going?’ Lizzie said. ‘I asked Mama if I could come too and she said no.’

‘It isn’t a shopping trip and I shan’t be visiting theatres or museums much,’ Amy told her. ‘I’ve heard about a voluntary scheme that the Queen has been involved in setting up. I’m going to an interview to see if I would be suitable.’

‘Because you think there is going to be a war?’ Lizzie looked at her sister. ‘Why can’t I join too?’

‘Because Mama thinks you’re too young. She didn’t want me to go but I told her I couldn’t sit at home doing nothing if there was something I could do to help. If Her Majesty thinks these voluntary things are worth while then it is our duty to do what we can. Father agreed with me. He thought it was better than me sitting around doing nothing …’ Amy broke off as their father came striding towards them. ‘Something is wrong …’

It was clear from her father’s manner that he was upset or anxious. All three rose to their feet as he approached.

‘I’m afraid it’s grave news,’ he said. ‘We have declared war on Germany. It’s official now. There is no going back …’

‘We expected it,’ Nicolas said. ‘Are you going to announce it? Everyone is enjoying themselves. It seems such a pity …’

‘I think you’ll find the news has already reached them …’ Lord Barton said glancing towards the stalls. There was a buzz of excitement and everyone was talking and looking about them. ‘People are starting to leave. No doubt some of the men will soon be off to join up.’

‘It’s just as well I’ve already done so,’ Nicolas said. ‘I signed up to the Royal Flying Corps some days ago. I was going to tell you this evening after dinner.’