The Downstairs Maid (37 page)

‘I should be happy to help her,’ Emily said. Mabel had been a lovely bride, her dress as pretty as a picture, so Emily thought. The gown must have been fabulously expensive and had been shipped all the way from New York. To Emily that seemed wildly extravagant, but Mabel’s father was a rich man. When Emily thought of what the family at the manor had spent on Jonathan’s wedding, she shuddered because it would feed several village families for a year.

‘Her room is next to mine. She will be expecting you. Don’t keep her waiting.’

‘No, I shan’t,’ Emily said and left the room quickly.

As she did so she passed close to Mr Nicolas but much as she wanted to speak to him she did not dare to breathe a word. Someone would be sure to hear her or notice her. Instead she gave him a small, shy smile and then hurried from the room. Her pendant was still nestling beneath her uniform; she could feel it against her skin and could hardly resist touching it from time to time. Giving it back wouldn’t be easy, but it was what she ought to do.

She ran upstairs and along the corridor to the room next to Miss Amy’s. When she tapped at the door a whispery voice answered and she opened the door. The bride was standing in all her finery looking lost and alone and, as Emily looked at her, she dashed a tear from her cheek. Emily realised that for all the money spent on her she was feeling as much out of place as Emily had when she first came to the manor.

‘You do look a proper treat, miss,’ Emily said. ‘I should call you Mrs Jonathan now, shouldn’t I? What a lovely dress. We’ve all been admiring it.’

‘Yes, it is beautiful. The silk was woven specially and has silver thread running through it,’ Mabel said and threw her a grateful look. ‘What is your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’

‘I’m Miss Amy’s maid. My name is Emily Carter.’

‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard them speak of you.’

She had been unfastening the young woman’s gown at the back while she talked and Mabel stepped out of it. Emily gathered it up and laid it reverently on the bed. Then she brought the smart travelling gown of green silk and slipped it over Mabel’s head, fastening the hooks at the back. She stood back to admire the effect.

‘You should have your hair up with this dress, miss. Would you like me to do it for you?’

‘Please, if you would.’

Mabel sat down at the dressing table and watched as Emily swept her hair softly back from her face and gathered it into a large looped knot.

‘Oh, that does look nice, much better than I usually have it. I wish you could be my maid when we come home. Jonathan said the hotel would send a maid up for me while we’re in Devon but …’

‘I’ll be in London when you return, miss – but you could ask for Mary, if she’s back from leave. She’s better than me at dressing hair.’

‘Is she as friendly?’ Mabel asked. ‘Mother’s maid always seems snooty, as if she is used to waiting on a better class rather than being grateful for the job …’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t being rude …’

‘Of course you weren’t, miss. You take no notice of her. Mary’s all right. I think she would enjoy being your maid.’

‘Thank you for being so kind to me,’ Mabel said as Emily offered her gloves and purse. ‘I still wish you were going to be here, but I’ll take your advice.’ She hesitated, and then reached into her leather purse. ‘Would you be offended if I gave you a tip? I never know what to do …’

‘You give tips when you’re a guest, miss. Most of the family give a scarf or a dress they’ve finished with now and then.’

Mabel took two gold sovereigns from her purse. ‘Please don’t be offended, Emily. I just want to say thank you – you’ve made me feel so much better.’

‘There’s no need, miss, but I’ll take your money and say thank you. I shall save it for a rainy day.’

Mabel thanked her but then someone knocked at the door. Mabel called out that he might come in and Mr Jonathan entered. Emily excused herself instantly, but sent the bride an encouraging look as she left.

She had a nice warm feeling as she went back downstairs to help with the clearing up. The wedding guests were departing, and June and Janet were both busy with coats and hats. Emily headed for the kitchen, because she knew there would be a pile of washing up.

Mrs Jonathan had reminded Emily of herself during her first few days at the manor. The young woman was shy and nervous, afraid of making silly mistakes. It was a pity that she didn’t have more confidence, but no doubt that would come once she’d been married for a while.

‘Emily …’ Mrs Hattersley greeted her anxiously. ‘Thank goodness you’re back.’

‘I know you’re snowed under,’ Emily said. The kitchen table was groaning under the weight of dirty dishes. ‘I’ll soon have this lot cleared up.’

‘No, it isn’t that,’ Mrs Hattersley said and her expression sent a chill down Emily’s spine. ‘Mr Johnson is waiting to see you in my parlour. He’s in such a state, poor man. Mrs Marsh took him through and gave him a glass of sherry – but he’s got news for you, bad news I’m afraid, lass.’

‘News …’ it could only mean one of two things. ‘Christopher is hurt or …’

‘Go and speak to him, Emily. He will want to tell you himself …’ Mrs Hattersley dashed a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘This lot will wait … and Mrs Marsh knows all about it so just do whatever you have to …’

Emily inclined her head. Her heart was thudding against her ribs and it was painful to breathe. She wanted to cry but her eyes felt dry and gritty, as if she was hurting too much for the relief of tears. Christopher was her friend. He’d wanted to marry her and he’d sent her that lovely ring.

Mr Johnson was standing with his back to her as she entered the small sitting room. His shoulders were bowed under the weight of his grief and when he turned to look at her she saw the pain in his eyes.

‘Christopher …’ she croaked because her throat was too tight to speak. ‘Is he …’

‘Badly wounded,’ Mr Johnson said, turning his cap in his hands in an effort not to break down. ‘He’s been shipped back to England and they’ve taken him to a military hospital down south. I knew you would want to come with me. I’ve borrowed a van and if you can get away …’

‘I’m sure Miss Amy will give me leave.’

‘It’s not going to be pretty, Emily. From what I hear he has burns to his face and the upper part of his body.’

‘I shan’t scream or run away in horror.’

‘That’s why I’ve come to you. His poor mother couldn’t face it and … I’d rather not go alone.’

‘You don’t have to, Mr Johnson.’

‘Why don’t you call me Bill?’ he said, giving her a look of approval. ‘Off you go now and pack a few things.’

‘I shan’t bother to change.’

She left Mrs Hattersley’s parlour and ran hastily up the back stairs to her bedroom. Emerging with a small bag shortly after, she met Mary coming along the landing. Mary had returned to help with the wedding, but wouldn’t be back at work full-time for a few more weeks.

‘You’re off then. Mrs Hattersley told me your lad had been hurt bad.’ Mary looked at her with sympathy. ‘I haven’t forgotten what you did for me – do you need any money?’

‘No, I’m all right, thanks,’ Emily said. ‘I know your lad is recovering and I’m glad, Mary. I just hope it will be the same for Christopher.’

‘I’m going to be Mrs Jonathan’s maid when she comes back from her honeymoon.’

‘I’m so pleased for you, Mary. She’s very nice and I think you will like her.’

‘I’ll still be getting married one day, but Ted will be in hospital for months. They’re moving him to a military convalescent home nearer his family so I’ll be able to visit – but it might be years before we can wed. Mrs Marsh said they would find him an easy job here when he’s well enough.’

Emily nodded to her and ran past her along the hall and down the stairs. She hadn’t had time to find Miss Amy and tell her, but she hoped she would understand that she didn’t have a choice. Emily hadn’t had time to think about the future, but she had a horrible feeling inside that her life might be about to change and not in a way she would like.

‘The burns on Christopher’s face will heal in time and we may be able to do something to help with the scarring,’ the doctor told them before they were allowed on the ward to visit him. ‘I’m afraid his hands are so badly damaged that he will have only a limited amount of use in the fingers. He may not be able to dress himself or … what kind of work did he do before the war?’

‘He was a cabinet maker, good at fixing things,’ Mr Johnson said the tears running down his cheeks. ‘Ever since he was a lad he was always whittling away at a bit of wood or making something.’

‘I’m afraid that is out of the question. As I said, he may need help dressing himself at first – and we’re not sure about his eyes. When he was brought in he was totally blind, though there has been some improvement in that area. We think he may recover partial sight but the heat caused some damage to the eyes …’

Mr Johnson gasped and staggered. Emily caught his arm, steadying him.

‘He’s still alive,’ she said. ‘Cling on to that, Bill. We mustn’t give way to grief. Christopher will not want us to feel sorry for him.’ She lifted her head and looked at the doctor. ‘I am Christopher’s fiancée and I need to know the worst. Will he be able to walk and talk?’

‘Yes, there was no damage sustained to the lower half of his body and he is able to understand what we say to him – and to answer if he feels like it, though he isn’t inclined to say much. He is aware of what has happened to him and is finding his situation hard to accept at the moment.’

‘Yes, I understand. It is a terrible thing to have to face,’ Emily said. ‘But we’re here for him – aren’t we, Bill?’

Mr Johnson looked at her gratefully. ‘Thank you, lass. It’s more than I could expect or ask of you. God bless you for being here. I’m not sure I could have taken this on my own.’

‘Where else should I be?’ Emily removed her gloves. She’d taken time to slip on her ring earlier. ‘Christopher is my friend and I love him. I couldn’t desert him now.’

‘Very well.’ The doctor smiled at her. ‘Not every young woman reacts to bad news like that, Miss Carter. Mr Johnson is fortunate – but, I’m warning you, he may not accept your decision. Some of our patients reject anything they think may be pity – and injuries like this can alter a man’s personality.’

‘I understand, but I want to be there for him when he’s ready,’ Emily said. ‘May we see him now please?’

‘Just don’t expect too much at first.’

‘He needs time to accept,’ Emily said, outwardly calm.

Inside she was bleeding. Christopher was a special friend. She cared for him and she knew he loved her. He’d sent her his ring and he wanted her to marry him. She’d thought at the time that it would be hard to tell him she didn’t want to marry him, but now it was impossible. She just couldn’t turn her back on him now that he was so badly injured. She had no choice but to stand by him – and marry him when he was ready.

Disappointment and regret lurked at the back of her mind, but she thrust them away. She couldn’t think of her own needs or desires when Christopher needed her so much. His life would never be the same again. The least she could do was to help him get through the pain and frustration as best he could.

As she’d followed the nurse past rows of beds with identical counterpanes, all of them neatly tucked under with proper hospital corners, Emily caught the familiar smell of antiseptic and carbolic soap plus an underlying odour of sickness. Somehow, the nurses created order out of chaos and pain, curtains discreetly closed about beds where patients were being violently sick or receiving treatment for ghastly wounds. Wheelchairs and commodes told their own tale, as did a pair of wooden crutches and a trolley with steel dishes and rolls of bandages.

Looking down at Christopher’s bandaged hands and head, pity and grief tugged at Emily’s heart. He’d been so young and bright and full of life. He was a clever man and she’d always believed that he would make a success of his life. Recalling his eagerness to join up and fight for his country, she felt her throat tighten with emotion. He did not deserve to be repaid like this – but then, none of them did. All the best and the brightest had been the first to volunteer and too many of them were dying or coming home badly wounded. It was such a waste.

‘Emily … it is you, isn’t it? I can smell your scent,’ Christopher’s voice sent a tingle down her spine, because he sounded just like himself. ‘You shouldn’t have come, love. I’m no damned good to you now. Please go away and forget about me.’

Emily reached for him, her hand gentle as she touched his bare arm, which was showing above the sheet.

‘I’m not going to leave you, Christopher. I’m wearing your ring and if you think you can get out of marrying me that easily you’re mistaken. Breach of promise that is – I could sue you for a fortune.’

A strangled laugh broke from his lips. ‘That’s just what I thought you’d say, Emily love, but it won’t do. I love you too much to let you ruin your life looking after me. My father will do that …’

‘I’m here, son,’ Bill Johnson said, his voice gruff with emotion. ‘Me and your mother would look after you, but Emily isn’t going anywhere. She’s stronger than any of us, lad. She won’t let you down.’

‘It isn’t what I want …’ Christopher moved his hands and moaned in pain. ‘Look at these. What sort of a husband would I be?’

‘We’ll look after you,’ his father said. ‘You can live with us. In time you may be able to find some kind of work. Not what you’re used to, son – but we’ll manage.’

Christopher turned his head to one side. ‘Please go away, Emily. I don’t want pity.’

‘I love you. I’ve always cared for you – and I’m not going anywhere. Get used to it, Christopher Johnson. I’m going to stick around no matter what you say.’

Christopher remained stubbornly silent. They stood in silence but he had closed off and refused to speak or look at them, and a few moments later a nurse came up to them.

‘He’s tired,’ she said. ‘Please leave now and visit another day.’

‘Yes, I shall.’ Emily bent down. She gently kissed his mouth, which was all she could see of his face and then each bandaged hand in turn. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow, Christopher – and every day. I’m going to be your wife one day, whether you like it or not.’