The Hungry Tide (18 page)

‘Is it all right for us to—?’ Maria didn’t know where to begin.

‘To eat?’ Mrs Scryven finished off for her. ‘Aye, it is. Servants are always fed here at ’Hall. Always have been anyway, and I don’t see that it’ll change. Course by rights tha should live in, but seeing as special arrangements have been made! Anyway these are my vittals. Milk from my own coo.’ She indicated the bubbling pan. ‘Ham from my own pig and wheat from my own land.’

‘Tha’s a farmer then?’ Maria, replete from the porridge, broke off a corner of crusty bread.

‘Me fayther was, owned his own parcel of land at Tillington where he was born, and a cottage here at Monkston. He left them to my brother Josh when he died, and as Josh never wed and had no other family but me, he signed it over to me when he took sick, so it’s all mine now.’

She sighed. ‘I won’t say it’s easy, for it’s not, but I won’t give it up if I can help it. It’s my only bit of security. I let ’piece out at Tillington and Dick Reed-barrow helps me at harvest time, or if I have a pig for ’market, but otherwise I manage.’

She sat down facing Maria and Lizzie and lifted Alice comfortingly on her knee. ‘Now then, I don’t know what tha’s been told, but this is how I see it. M’lady back in Hull doesn’t care for me!’ She nodded her head at Maria’s look of surprise. ‘She hasn’t said owt, but I can tell! That lady doesn’t look below ’surface of folks. She doesn’t like what she considers ugly.’

She put up her hand to silence Maria as she started to protest. ‘I know I’m considered plain, always have been.’ Her wrinkled face creased into a gappy smile, ‘but I don’t mind about that. Anyroad, Mrs Masterson won’t want me hanging around ’house where her fancy friends might see me, she’ll want me out of ’way. What she doesn’t know is that I’m ’best cook in Holderness. Ask anybody round here. And once she’s tasted my bakin’, then she’ll nivver want me to go – or her husband won’t! I’ve worked in this house and ’other one that stood afore it for as long as I can remember, and I don’t intend leaving, not till I’m carried out in ’wooden box!’

Lizzie got up from the table and walked round to where Mrs Scryven was sitting, put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘I don’t think tha’s ugly at all, Mrs Scryven. I think tha’s lovely, and after my ma and Maria, I think tha’s ’kindest person I know.’

Mrs Scryven was so taken aback at this show of admiration that she sat open-mouthed.

‘Well, out of ’mouths of babes—’ said Maria, blinking a little, ‘and Lizzie’s right, tha’s kindest woman I’ve ever met.’

Mrs Scryven overcame her confusion and continued with her plan. ‘If tha will take charge of ’house – I’ll show thee what to do,’ she added as she saw the look of dismay on Maria’s face. ‘And we’ll get Martin Reed-barrow’s daughter Janey to help thee, she’ll live in, and there’s a young lass in ’village who’ll help me in ’kitchen to do ’vegetables and scrub ’pans. And then when ’fine servants arrive there’ll be nowt for them to do, and they’ll be off back to Hull as fast as they can!’

‘They’re not coming,’ said Lizzie, jumping up and down in glee. ‘I heard them talking in ’kitchen that day we went to see Mrs Masterson. They said they wouldn’t come – except for Mrs Harris, and she’s an old woman in ’kitchen, and she hadn’t anywhere else to go.’

With this report they gathered together an array of brooms and buckets, for although the Hall looked spanking clean to Maria, Mrs Scryven decreed that it wasn’t good enough.

‘We must be sure that there’s no cause for complaint. So what has been done once must be done again. Lizzie, go to ’stable and fetch clean straw for ’kitchen and back doorway. They’ll be fetching ’new furniture in soon and I’ll not have men tramping mud all over my clean floor.’

Lizzie went out in the direction of the stable, but returned a few minutes later. ‘There’s a man – ‘she began, ‘Dick Reedbarrow – he’s at ’back door, asking for thee, Mrs Scryven.’

‘So what’s pleasing thee, Dick Reedbarrow?’ Mrs Scryven scrutinized him as he stood shuffling at the door.

Maria could see no sign of pleasure on his craggy features, but Mrs Scryven was obviously a better judge than she was, for he took off his battered felt hat and turned it round and round in his hands, no smile on his lips but a crinkle forming around his eyes.

‘I’ve got ’job here at Garston! Agent’s just been round to see me. Says Mr Masterson’s left it to him to find somebody to be in charge like, and I’m ’best man for ’job.’

He looked towards Maria. ‘I’ll need somebody reliable to help me. Our Martin will manage our bit of land, with help of his lads, but most of ’other young fellas have gone off to Hull to seek work. I can always find some old hands to help with ’ploughing and ’harvest but if thy man is willing—?’

‘Tha’ll have to ask him thyself, but as far as I know he’ll do what’s needed. That’s the arrangement with Mr Masterson.’

She looked keenly into his lined face. Like Mrs Scryven’s it was brown and wrinkled, but the furrows ran so deep that his eyes could hardly be seen. ‘We’ve a son ready to work. Can tha take him on? He’s a good lad and willing.’

‘Aye, I’ll do that, missus. He can start at Martinmas, and if he listens well I’ll larn him all I know, and mek him into a farmer!’

‘Don’t pull so hard, Ellie. I have a bad headache.’ Isobel watched her reflection in the mirror as Ellie stood behind her brushing out each ringlet and curling it around her fingers.

‘Why not have it cut, ma-am, and wear false curls? Seemingly it’s becoming very fashionable now.’

‘Really, Ellie, where do you get your ideas from?’ Isobel read all the modish journals, but she didn’t expect her servants to keep up with high fashion.

‘I’ve been talking to Miss Brown the milliner, ma-am. She told me.’

Isobel looked at the smooth young face and slim figure standing behind her, and sighed for her own lost youth. She too had been as lovely as Ellie when she was sixteen. How fast the years went by. She leant forward in order to see herself better in the gilt-framed mirror. She could already see fine lines appearing around her mouth and neck, and her eyes had lost their brightness.

Perhaps when this birth business is over I shall get my looks back, and my figure, she thought. She drew the muslin fichu across her chemise gown and sat back with a delicate yawn.

‘Leave it, Ellie, I really can’t be bothered now. Bring me my lace cap to wear.’

‘Miss Brown has some beautiful caps and bonnets.’ Ellie placed the small lace cap on Isobel’s curls. ‘As good as you’d see anywhere in ’country.’

A small frown appeared on Isobel’s face. ‘What is this, Ellie? I hope you haven’t been wasting time down in the Market Place!’

‘Oh – no, ma-am. It’s just that when you leave here for ’country, I’ve decided to come out of service, and Miss Rebecca Brown has offered me a position.’ Her face flushed with pleasure. ‘I’m going to help in ’shop to start with, keeping it tidy and such like, and then after a bit I can help with ’customers – I mean – the clients.’ She emphasized her words carefully.

‘Does Miss Brown not require a reference from me?’ Isobel’s voice was tart.

‘She said she would prefer one, if you were willing; just to say I’m honest and that. But I explained how really you wanted me to go with you as it’s so difficult to get good servants out in ’country.’ She looked slyly from beneath her lashes at her employer. ‘And she said she would understand if you couldn’t see your way to giving one.’

Isobel couldn’t help but give a wry smile. The little minx would do well in a shop. She wasn’t very good at household chores, and Isobel had noticed how she always managed to arrange it that the other girl did the really dirty jobs; but she was undoubtedly very good at arranging her hair and kept her wardrobe of gowns and dresses in perfect condition, sewing on lace edging and trimmings, and replacing the feathers and ribbons on her bonnets when she saw them looking at all worn.

‘Very well, Ellie, I will give you a recommendation. There’s no doubt that I shall miss you for attending to my hair. Perhaps I
will
have it cut.’ She shook her curls and adjusted the cap. ‘It will be less bother, I suppose. Unless, of course, Mrs Foster is any good at that sort of thing.’

‘’Shouldn’t think she’s had much practice, ma-am. She got married to Will Foster when she was a bit older than what I am now, and she’s been busy having bairns. No time for dressing hair.’ She gave a worldly laugh. ‘You won’t catch me getting tied down like that.’

She moved around the room, picking up clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in the lavender-scented chests of drawers. ‘Although my mother says that Will Foster was ’best looking man in town and a good catch for any girl.’

Isobel’s eyebrows rose in amusement at the thought of an ordinary whaling man being a good catch, but she let Ellie prattle on. She had nothing better to do so she might just as well listen to servants’ gossip. She had chosen the furniture and curtains for the new house and though that had kept her busy, she was now bored with inactivity.

‘Yes, it’s a shame, for he’s still quite handsome, but with a disability like that!’ Ellie shook her head and wrinkled her nose.

Isobel’s attention had been elsewhere, contemplating vaguely the handsome men she had once known before she had decided to marry the older but eligible Isaac Masterson, but now she sat forward.

‘What do you mean – a disability? I understood he had been injured, but no-one said anything about a disability!’

Ellie flushed. She realized she should not have said so much. She hung her head. ‘I suppose some folk wouldn’t mind,’ she said. ‘It’s just that it makes me feel queasy.’

‘What makes you feel queasy?’ Isobel’s voice became shrill.

‘Seeing his leg – or I mean – seeing him without it!’

She watched in concern as her mistress turned pale and clutched the side of the chair.

‘You mean, he’s lost a leg?’

The look of horror on her mistress’s face startled her. ‘It’s not as bad as all that, ma-am. Men are always losing arms or legs, or getting injured somehow or other, it’s what happens!’

‘Be quiet, you silly girl, and get me my smelling salts quickly. I feel quite ill.’

She rose trembling from the chair and crossed to the bed where she lay down, her hand clutched to her forehead.

‘Should I get ’doctor, ma-am?’

‘Yes,’ said Isobel faintly, ‘and find Mr Masterson immediately. Tell him he’s wanted at once!’

Isaac strode up the stairs two at a time, his breathing rapid. He’d been given a garbled message by his clerk to go home at once, and he had naturally assumed that Isobel had started labour, even though it was not yet her time. And now that fool of a doctor who he had bumped into outside the door had wittered incomprehensibly about somebody losing a leg and that she must rest and not be alarmed in any way.

‘Isobel, my dear. What has happened?’ he began.

‘Isaac – I won’t have it. I just will not have it.’

Far from looking ill or in pain, Isobel was sitting up beneath the silk draped hangings of her bed, propped up amongst several white downy pillows, her cheeks a soft pink and her eyes sparkling.

Isaac stopped, confused, at the end of the bed. He had seen that look in Isobel’s eyes before. It wasn’t fever that was making them sparkle but anger.

‘Won’t have it? What are you talking about, Isobel?’

He came to her side and sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling the lace counterpane, and took her hand in his. ‘It will soon be over, my love, you’re not to worry about it. The doctor is an excellent man!’

She snatched her hand away. ‘I’m not talking about the baby!’ Her voice was shrill and the tone of it left him in no doubt of her views on his mental capacity. ‘I’m talking about Will Foster! I will not have that man near me. Not under any circumstances. How could you think of it?’

He looked at her in amazement. Did women in her condition have these strange turns? He had no way of knowing, but he tried to humour her.

‘Come now,’ he laughed weakly. ‘What have you against him? He’s a good honest worker, one of the best – and his wife—!’

‘I’ve met her,’ she shrieked at him. ‘But nobody thought to tell me that he was maimed!’ She started to sob. ‘You know how I hate that sort of thing!’

‘That sort of thing!’ he exploded. ‘Good God, woman, he almost lost his life trying to save John, and you say you can’t stand that sort of thing! How do you think
he
feels?’

He got up and stormed across the room to bang the door, conscious that the servants could hear them.

‘Well, give him some money or something,’ she wailed. ‘I just don’t want him working for me!’

‘I will not give him money,’ he answered sharply. ‘A man like that has his pride. He wants to earn a living like anyone else, not accept charity.’

They sat in silence for a while, Isaac trying to control his temper and Isobel stifling her sobs.

‘What will people think?’ she said at last. ‘We’ve got a wizened old woman for a housekeeper and a man with a terrible disability.’ She couldn’t bring herself to mention his loss of a leg and started to snivel again. ‘And none of the servants will come with us!’

‘People! I’m not bothered about what people think! I only know that I owe that man something, and this is how I can repay him, by giving him a fresh start. Goodness knows it’s little enough, being a farm labourer and general packhorse when he might have risen to being mate on one of my ships.’

He sighed and took her hand again. ‘Try to understand, Isobel, that it isn’t ever easy for some people. They struggle all of their lives just to keep body and soul together, and then in the end they still haven’t anything to show for it. It is our duty, when we have so much, to try and ease their misery.’

She looked at him coldly. ‘Then do as you please, Isaac. But do not expect me to accept him. He can stay if you think that you owe him a debt, but I repeat, I will not have him near me, and that is my final word on the matter.’ She slid down into the feather bed, drawing the fine linen sheets up to her chin. ‘And now if you don’t mind leaving me, I would like to rest.’

Isaac marched out of the house and strode purposefully down the garden and into the yard at the back of the house. Already his men were moving equipment and goods from the staith side into the yard, ready for the time when they should move into the house. His irritation cooled as he gave instructions and once more became absorbed in the day-to-day continuance of his business, and it wasn’t until later in the day when John appeared with a query that he remembered the problem of Will Foster and Isobel’s antipathy towards him.