The Downstairs Maid (56 page)

Once the period of Emily’s morning sickness had passed, she began to feel very well. The work in the kitchens at the Temperance Hotel suited her, because it was a nice, respectable place with a good class of customer. The menu was left to her, though Mr Jackson had set her a budget for the cost of the raw materials, which Emily found generous. The regulars at the Temperance liked good, substantial meals, such as steak and kidney pudding, chicken and ham pie, sausages and mash, a roast or some ham and salad. Emily cooked the ham she bought from the butchers in the High Street, and it was so much liked that the bar customers started asking for ham sandwiches in the evenings.

‘You’ve picked up trade already,’ Ted said to her a few weeks before Christmas. It was the third Christmas of the war and as yet there seemed no possibility of the hostilities coming to an end, despite a sprinkling of victories to the Allies. The Russians had suffered terrible casualties, but far too many men of other nations were dying, British, German and French. Emily knew that things were hard at home, but in the trenches the men were enduring unspeakable hardships; their feet rotted from the damp that constantly seeped through their boots; dysentery, fevers, boredom and cold were just some of the discomforts that they lived through – and every day they were bombarded with shells.

Emily enjoyed her work. She was on her feet for long hours, but for the first few months she was able to manage without feeling too uncomfortable. She even did extra shifts over Christmas, because Ted Jackson told her to bring her brother in with her. He took the boy in with his family, even putting a present under the tree for him and giving him a proper Christmas dinner. Jack had started walking properly since Mr Green had taken him under his wing and though he was still slow, he had improved his mobility and his speech a little. Emily had joined the family when the dining room was shut. She’d eaten her meal in between serving others but she had a slice of the flaming pudding, which had been kept to the last so that she could join Jack and Mr Jackson’s family.

Ted had been a widower for some years; he was a man in his early forties with an attractive personality. He had a good sense of humour and, though he had no children of his own, he had two brothers, both of whom had brought their wives and children with them. They took Emily and her brother to their hearts, making a fuss of the child and giving him extra presents of money to spend on sweets.

Emily thought later that night that it was one of the best Christmases she’d ever had, because when she finally got back home there had been another little party at the Greens’ house. Everyone had been so kind that she shed a few tears in her bed that night. Why couldn’t Nicolas have come home for Christmas? Why had he been shot down – and why had she never heard any more of him?

Jonathan had promised to tell her for certain when he knew, but he hadn’t come near her while she was at the cottage. Emily hadn’t told anyone at the manor that she’d moved, though she had sent Christmas cards to Lizzie and to her friends in the kitchen. None had come for her, of course, but that was her choice. She didn’t want pity and that was all she would get from Nicolas’s family. His brother had said he would see that money was placed in her account each month, but although Emily had checked twice at the start she hadn’t looked since she moved and started work. She didn’t need more than she could earn in her present situation.

Despite all that had happened to her, Emily knew she was lucky. Her mother had gone from her life and she doubted she would see her again, but she’d made new friends. Ted was very easy to work for and he made it clear that he liked Emily. In fact he’d hinted a few times that he would be happy if she saw him as a friend rather than an employer. Emily tried hard to be friendly, without giving him cause to think her ready for a relationship. Of course he knew she was recently widowed for the second time and he hadn’t made any unpleasant suggestions. Had he done so she would have had to leave, but she knew it was likely that one day he would ask and then she might have to move on.

Perhaps it was because she was now so heavily pregnant that Ted was being so circumspect. By the end of April it was no longer possible for Emily to work. Ted was reluctant to see her go, because he said she was impossible to replace.

‘I’ll get someone as a stand in until you feel able to come back,’ he said as he gave her her wage packet for the last time. ‘You’ll find a bit extra in there, Emily. Let me know as soon as you’re ready and I’ll have you back like a shot.’

‘You’ve been so kind to me …’

‘Nonsense,’ he said gruffly. ‘I know I’m a bit old for you, Em – but I think we might suit, if you wanted to think about it once you’re over the baby.’

Emily felt the colour seep into her cheeks. She smiled but didn’t answer, because she knew he wouldn’t expect her to now – but, as she’d suspected, he was thinking of a relationship, though whether he meant marriage she wasn’t sure. Ted liked her, but what he really wanted was a permanent cook for the hotel.

It would have been rude to say no instantly, but of course she could never think of marrying again. In her heart Nicolas was her husband. Her marriage to Christopher had never been a proper marriage and she would never want another man in her life.

Somehow she would manage when the baby was born. Emily wasn’t certain what she had in the bank, and the day following her enforced retirement from the hotel, she caught a bus into Ely and visited the bank in the High Street. She asked for a balance and when it was given to her she asked again, but the same answer was given.

She had one hundred and fifty five pounds. When she enquired further she was told that her monthly payments had been inadvertently stopped, because of a mistake by the bank itself, for two months, and then restarted. It was nothing to do with the War Office!

‘You were sent a letter of apology, Mrs Barton.’

‘I had moved,’ Emily said. ‘I had no idea that the payments were still being made.’

Emily’s heart was racing as she left the bank. Why hadn’t she checked her account before this? Possibly because she’d been working so hard that she really hadn’t had the time – and because she’d managed on her wage.

What did the reinstatement of her payments mean? Was the government still paying her part of Nicolas’s wage as a pilot – or had Jonathan arranged it? He’d promised to do so, but she’d thought he’d forgotten or neglected to keep his word.

Her throat caught with tears. It was ridiculous to hope that Nicolas was still alive and yet, illogically, she could not stop the little seed of hope from growing inside her. Could Nicolas still be alive? Should she write to Jonathan and ask him – or visit the manor herself?

A part of her wanted to rush there at once, but she forced herself to be sensible. It was ridiculous to hope for too much. Besides, she didn’t particularly want his family to know she was carrying Nicolas’s child. Lord Barton would deny it and if by chance he believed her, he might try to take the child from her once it was born. He was a powerful man and he hated her. Emily had a small but ridiculous fear that somehow he could force her to give her baby up to him.

Perhaps she would write to Jonathan and explain that she’d moved. He might have written to her at the cottage in Waterside or even visited.

Even though she told herself over and over again, Emily couldn’t help hoping that a miracle had happened. After all, she’d never seen a notice of Nicolas’s death – and yet if he were still alive he would have found her. Even though she hadn’t told her family where she was living, people knew. Anyone who really wanted to know could have discovered where she worked – couldn’t they?

It was stupid to hope, just because some money had been paid into her account, but at least it meant that she didn’t have to worry how she would live until she could work again.

Emily wrote her letter that evening and gave it to Vera to post when she took Jack into Ely. However, three days later the girl confessed that she’d forgotten it so it was not posted until the next day. Emily couldn’t scold her, because she’d had months to write and it was foolish to be impatient for a reply.

Ten days passed and no letters came for Emily. It was midway through that morning that she felt the first pains. The child was coming several days early and Emily felt a rush of panic. Had she harmed her baby by working too long – or had the shock and anxiety she’d felt after that visit to the bank brought the birth on too soon?

‘You mustn’t fret, lass,’ Mrs Green told her when her waters broke. ‘Mr Green’s gone for the doctor but he likely won’t get here until it’s over. That baby seems in a hurry to be born.’

‘Will it be all right? It’s too early …’

‘I was a month early with my first son,’ the kindly woman said. ‘He was as strong as a horse from the moment he popped out – still is come to that. Don’t you worry, me and you will manage just fine on our own. Vera is putting the kettles on and I’ve had four of my own, besides helping others.’

Emily nodded, but cried out as the pain ripped through her. She felt as if she were being torn apart as she bit down on her lip and tasted blood. It was sheer agony and for a while she thought she might die, but then, pushing when she was instructed, she felt a pain worse than all the others and in another moment the child came rushing out of her in a mess of blood and slime.

‘There, what did I tell you?’ Mrs Green said as she dealt efficiently with the cord then wrapped the child in a towel before placing it in Emily’s arms. ‘You’ve got a lovely boy – beautiful child he is, though not as big as my Sam was when he was born.’

Emily looked at the child in her arms and saw Nicolas’s features. His eyes were open, blue and wide, staring in wonder at the strange place he’d come to in such a hurry. Tears stung Emily’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she looked at him. He was so very beautiful and her love swelled, pouring out to surround him as she drew him closer. He was her little Nicky, a part of her husband come back to her.

‘That’s it, see if he wants a bit of a feed,’ Mrs Green encouraged. ‘My Sam was a greedy bugger, sucked me dry he did – and it can hurt. Hold your nipple between your fingers, lass, and put him to you. He’ll know what he wants once you show him.’

Emily laughed. Happiness flooded through her. She was no longer alone. She had Nicolas’s son … she had Nicolas’s son …

Emily was sitting in the parlour, Nicky in a cot beside her when Mrs Green came in to tell her she had a visitor. For a moment her heart raced but she nodded her head, feeling almost sick with apprehension when Jonathan entered. He looked at her and then at the cot.

‘Mrs Green told me you have a son?’

‘Yes. Nicolas’s son,’ Emily said. ‘He was a little early but he’s quite healthy.’

Jonathan looked down at the child and smiled.

‘He looks like his father. Was he born here in this house – before the doctor arrived?’

‘Mrs Green was very good and he was in a hurry to be born.’

‘Had you told me, you would have had a doctor in attendance.’ Jonathan frowned. ‘Why did you just go off like that, Emily? You knew I intended to keep in touch.’

‘You didn’t come and I – I couldn’t afford to keep the cottage on when the money stopped coming. I know it has been reinstated – why?’

‘Because Nicolas wanted to make sure you were all right …’

Emily knew her face must have gone white with the shock, because he looked alarmed. She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks as she said, ‘He’s alive? Where is he?’

‘Alive, yes – and living with us at the manor,’ Jonathan said hesitating, then, ‘it is not good news, Emily. Nicolas was badly burned in the crash. He was picked up by a foreign ship and taken to a hospital in Jersey. We didn’t know anything until about four months ago. He’d been ill and for a long time no one knew who he was – other than that he was a British pilot. When he finally felt like talking his survival was reported and he was moved to a hospital in England.’

Emily felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Her throat was tight with grief and it was a while before she could speak again.

‘Where are the burns?’

‘One side of his face – and he can’t see well, Emily. The doctors think he may recover partial sight in the future, but they can’t be sure. At the moment he can only make out shapes and sometimes colours.’

His injuries were so like Christopher’s that it struck Emily to the heart. She knew that it wasn’t unusual; too many men bore the same terrible injuries. Fire was such a wicked thing and men caught in an explosion suffered terrible burns; the hospitals were filled with them.

‘My poor darling Nicolas …’ Emily whispered. ‘How can he write his poems when he can’t see? How can he bear it?’

‘Not well,’ Jonathan said. ‘He asked about you but when I said I would have someone trace you he forbade me to tell you what had happened. I am breaking a promise, but I thought you had the right to know. You’re not a widow, Emily – though Nicolas doesn’t want you to sacrifice your life for him.’

‘You mean he regrets our marriage?’

‘That’s bloody rubbish,’ Jonathan said. ‘He loves you and it’s breaking his heart because he is refusing to see you – had I been able to find you before I should have told you as soon as we knew.’

‘The letter I sent …’

‘I’d been away. I haven’t told him. I didn’t want to raise hopes if you would rather not see him.’

‘Of course I want to see him.’

Emily was aware that she was crying. She didn’t know whether they were tears of happiness because Nicolas was alive or tears of despair because he was in such pain. She knew what had happened when she insisted on marrying Christopher. Emily had wanted to make him happy, but instead she’d made his life a living nightmare. Supposing Nicolas couldn’t bear her being near him … and felt desperately unhappy because he couldn’t be the man he had been when they married.

She could see that Jonathan was angry with her, angry because she was silent and because he thought she was hesitating for her own sake. If she tried to explain he wouldn’t understand. No one could know what it felt like to be in hers and Christopher’s shoes unless they had suffered the same fate. She longed for Nicolas with all her heart – but he might not want her.