Whispers (11 page)

‘Why don’t you go an’ get ready an’ all,’ Granny now suggested, taking the flowers from Martha’s hands. ‘I can finish up in here an’ I’m sure Grace will be grateful of a hand wi’ her hair.’

Feeling somewhat deflated, Martha slipped out into the courtyard and headed for the stable block. She would check that everything was right in the rooms above it for Grace to return to as a bride before going to help her sister get dressed.

Bertie was there already, washed and dressed in his Sunday best suit when Martha tapped on the door and entered. He looked very nervous and very handsome as Martha grinned at him.

‘By, you look posh,’ she laughed. ‘Happen our Grace will fall in love with yer all over again when she sees yer lookin’ like that.’

Bertie’s hand rose self-consciously to pat his hair, which at the moment was flattened to his head with Maccassar oil.

Martha then took a quick look around the rooms and sighed with satisfaction. They had all been working tirelessly to transfer the old furniture from the attics that the Master had told them they might have, and now the small rooms looked quite homely. There was a table with two sturdy wooden chairs at either side of it in the living area and an ancient couch that Granny had re-upholstered for them from a length of cloth they had found in one of the numerous trunks in the attic. Granny had also made them some pretty curtains to hang at the window. One corner of the room was partitioned off by a faded velvet curtain, another reject from the attic, and behind it was a sink and a small stove that would serve as their kitchen quarters. Bertie had hung a shelf there too which was full of mismatched plates and mugs, but Martha saw that everything was sparkling.

The last room to check was the bedroom. She knew how untidy Bertie could be and wanted everything to be just right for when he brought Grace back there as his wife. But she need not have worried. A quick glance assured her that Bertie had put everything away in the old wardrobe and the chest of drawers that stood to one side of the large brass bed. The same pretty flowered cotton curtains that hung in the living room graced the bedroom window, and Granny’s wedding present to the young couple, a beautifully sewn patchwork quilt made from scraps of material all the colours of the rainbow, was spread across the bed. It felt strange to think that Grace would be sleeping here with Bertie from now on rather than in the servants’ quarters with her, but Martha hoped that the couple would be happy. And once they had put Grace’s bed into the storage room, she would have much more space, which would be nice.

‘Well, everything seems to be in order here so I’ll go and give Grace a hand in getting ready now,’ she told Bertie brightly.

He nodded as he tugged at his tie and Martha giggled. ‘At least
try
and look happy,’ she teased. ‘You look more like a chap that’s about to go to the gallows than one that’s about to be wed.’

‘I’m happy enough. But now be gone wi’ yer an’ help Grace, eh? We’ve less than an hour to get to church an’ I can’t see the parson bein’ none too happy if we keep him waitin’.’

Lifting her skirts, Martha carefully descended the stairs before skipping across the cobblestones and back into the kitchen. There was no sign of Granny, and Martha guessed that she had probably gone to get ready too.

On entering Grace’s room she became still as she saw her sister lifting the blue satin gown over her head. It seemed to accentuate the colour of her eyes and Martha thought she looked truly beautiful. Almost like gentry.

‘Ah, just in time. Could you help me with these buttons?’

‘Of course I will.’ Martha crossed to do as she was bid and within seconds was saying playfully, ‘I think you must have put a bit of weight on since you finished this dress. I can scarce get the buttons to do up about your waist.’

To her amazement, Grace rounded on her, her lovely blue eyes flashing. ‘I hope you won’t get saying anything so thoughtless as that in front of Bertie!’ she hissed.

‘O’ course I won’t, an’ I had no wish to cause offence,’ Martha stammered.

Grace’s hand flew to her brow and she sighed. ‘Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to snap yer head off. Happen I’m just a bit nervous.’

She dropped onto the chair and taking up the brush, Martha began to brush her hair. ‘It’s all right. I’ve heard it’s quite normal fer folks to be nervous on their weddin’ day.’ In no time at all she had fastened Grace’s long fine hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and now her sister lifted the second-hand bonnet she had bought from a stall in the market and put it on. It looked totally transformed now that Grace had covered it in tiny satin rosebuds and when she tied it beneath her chin, Martha sighed dreamily.

‘Oh, our Grace. Yer look truly beautiful,’ she breathed in a choky voice. Then side-by-side the sisters made their way down to the kitchen.

Hal Tolley was there, dressed in his best outfit as they all were, along with Granny and Bertie, and they all looked at Grace admiringly.

Granny was looking smart in a light grey gown she had bought from the pawn shop and altered, and over it she was wearing the Paisley shawl that Grace and Martha had bought for her the previous Christmas.

Bertie’s eyes misted over as he viewed his bride-to-be. Taking her hands in his, he looked deeply into her eyes.

‘Right then, we’re not goin’ to let
nothin
’ spoil today,’ he told Grace.
‘’Cos
I know what a lucky fellow I am. Now – if everyone’s ready, I reckon we should be off.’

The sun was riding high in a cloudless blue sky as they set off for the tiny church in Caldecote, and Martha found herself skipping happily ahead. The rest of the party still seemed somewhat subdued, however, although she had no idea why. The church was less than a mile as the crow flew, but Granny was puffing before they were halfway there. ‘Happen me head still thinks I’m nor but a lass, but me old legs are tellin’ me otherwise,’ she huffed.

They had gone about halfway when they heard the sound of a horse and trap and glancing over their shoulders they saw Jimmy Weeks on his way to market. He winked at Martha cheekily, before turning his attention to Grace and Bertie. ‘Good luck to you two,’ he said, then shaking the reins he moved the horse on.

‘Cheeky young whippersnapper,’ snorted Granny, then wagging her finger at Martha she said warningly, ‘I hope you’re not up to no good wi’ that young ’un, me gel.’

‘Of course I’m not,’ Martha replied indignantly, and lifting her skirts she stalked ahead.

The villagers in Caldecote called out their good wishes and greetings as the party passed, and soon Grace, clutching her posy nervously, and Bertie, were standing before the parson.

The service seemed to be over in the blink of an eye and in no time at all they were all outside again.

‘It doesn’t seem right that there’s going to be no wedding meal,’ Martha sighed as they made their way back to Stonebridge House.

‘Happen we should just think ’usselves lucky that the Master allowed us time off fer the service,’ Granny retorted and they made the remainder of the journey in silence, although Martha was happy to see that Bertie and Grace walked hand-in-hand and seemed to be happy.

They were nearing the house when Granny groaned and pointed ahead to where two carriages stood outside the front entrance. ‘Would you just look at that! Seems some of his lordship’s guests ’ave arrived already. That means I’ll ’ave to get a spurt on gettin’ the meal ready, else he’ll be grumblin’.’

‘Well, I’ll nip back home an’ get yer them two rabbits I snared last night,’ Hal Tolley said. ‘Happen they’ll make up into a nice couple o’ pies.’

‘It’s perhaps as well,’ Granny said, a frown on her brow. ‘The
pantry’s
near empty an’ most places are refusin’ to send supplies now; lessen the Master settles his bills.’

They slipped into the house and Grace and Martha hurried to their rooms to change back into their work clothes. Martha was bitterly disappointed. ‘I don’t want it to be like this, just like any other day when I marry Jimmy,’ she muttered to herself as she fastened an apron about her waist. She then ran back downstairs and in no time at all was too busy to think of anything.

‘Would you just hark at that carry-on,’ Granny said in disgust, cocking her head towards the door that led into the hall. ‘Sounds like half of ’em are drunk already, so God only knows what they’ll be like come evenin’! Just you stay away from the lot of ’em, our Grace. They’re heathens, so they are.’ She then went back to rolling the pastry for the pies with a vengeance as Martha continued to skin the rabbits Hal had supplied them with.

It was mid-afternoon when Granny asked, ‘Would yer go an’ collect me some eggs from the barn fer the egg custard, pet?’

‘Of course I will.’ Martha obligingly collected the wicker basket and lifting her skirts she set off across the courtyard. It was dark in the barn after leaving the bright sunshine outside and Martha stood for a moment letting her eyes adjust before going in search of the eggs. She knew all the hens’ favourite laying places and in no time at all the bottom of the basket was covered with them. She was happily scouting about when a noise from the hay bales in the far corner caught her ear. That corner of the barn was in deep shadow and she was peering towards it when a naked woman suddenly shrieked with laughter and raced towards her, closely followed by a naked man.

Martha was so shocked that she dropped the basket and the eggs rolled all over the ground as her hand flew to her mouth.

‘Ha-ha! Come to join in the frolics, have you, me pretty?’ As the man lurched towards her laughing loudly, Martha lifted her skirts in a most unladylike manner and fled as if her life depended on it.

She almost fell into the kitchen door and Granny looked up sharply. ‘Why, whatever’s wrong wi’ you?’ she barked. ‘An’ where are me eggs?’

‘I . . . I dropped them,’ Martha gasped as she pressed her hand into the stitch in her side. ‘There was a man . . . an’ a woman . . . an’ they were naked an’ racin’ round the barn. I’m sorry, Granny.’

Granny’s face darkened. ‘No lass, don’t
you
be sorry. Yer did right to come away. I don’t know – such sordid goin’s-on! Whatever would the Mistress ’ave said to such shenanigans? Heathens they are, the
whole
lot of ’em. You stay here wi’ me now an’ damn the eggs. An’ if the Master asks why he ain’t got no egg custard I’ll give ’im what for, you just watch me.’

It was late that evening before Grace and Bertie were finally able to return to their rooms for their wedding night, and Grace seemed shy and flustered as they said their goodnights.

‘See yer both in the mornin’,’ Granny said as if it was just any night, and the young couple slipped out into the balmy evening with eyes only for each other.

‘I reckon you should go an’ get yer head down now an’ all,’ Granny told Martha. ‘It’s been a long day. Goodnight, love.’

Martha didn’t need telling twice. She planted a kiss on her granny’s cheek and headed for the door, every limb aching.

She was almost at the foot of the stairs when the drawing-room door banged open and the man she had seen in the barn earlier in the day staggered out.

‘Ah, can’t keep away from me, me pretty, can you?’ he laughed, and lunging forward he caught Martha’s arm in a strong grip.

She had just opened her mouth to scream when the Master appeared in the doorway. One of the women from the town was hanging around his neck and he told the man, ‘Unhand her, James.
I
have first rights wi’ that little maid an’ when the time comes I want her pure.’

The man good-naturedly did as he was told and lurched drunkenly away as Martha fled up the stairs, not stopping to breathe until she had slammed her bedroom door and bolted it securely behind her. The room looked so big now that Bertie had dragged Grace’s bed into the large attic, and Martha suddenly felt very lonely. It had certainly been a funny old day, one way or another. And what could the Master have meant about wanting to keep her pure? Tiredly, she began to undress as she tried to put the event from her mind.

Jess slammed the book shut and stared towards the window. What a sad wedding day Grace and Bertie had had. It just went to show how times had changed and how hard life must have been for working-class people in Martha’s time. She was sorely tempted to read on but decided against it. Laura would be here soon and Jess was curious to hear what she had to say. Reluctantly putting the journal away in her drawer, she made her way back down to the kitchen.

Laura arrived punctually at eleven o’clock looking slightly ill-at-ease.
Jess
had a percolator full of coffee bubbling away on the range and she carried it to the table along with a plateful of ginger nut biscuits. She knew Laura was rather partial to them.

‘So?’ she smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a bit. ‘How is Den today?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Laura raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s a man, isn’t he? Need I say more? If he gets a cold it’s flu. If he gets flu it’s pneumonia.’

‘I know what you mean, Simon is exactly the same.’ Jess chuckled as she poured out their coffee.

Laura sipped at her drink, eyeing Jess pensively over the rim of her mug before asking, ‘So how are you settling in?’

‘Very well really. The house is shaping up nicely at last. I reckon I’ll have it how I want it for this time next year.’

‘Well, I have to say this looks stunning.’ Laura glanced around at the gleaming kitchen. ‘In fact, I think you have a flair for interior design.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Jess blushed at the compliment. ‘But now what was it you wanted to see me about?’

Laura gulped. ‘I don’t quite know where to start,’ she said.

Jess smiled encouragingly. ‘Then why don’t you start at the very beginning?’

‘I er . . . Well, the thing is, I know you don’t believe in spiritual things, but I have to ask you: have you ever had anything strange happen since you’ve lived here? For instance, have you ever had the sense that you weren’t alone when everyone else was out?’

Jess decided to answer truthfully. ‘Yes, I have. On a few occasions I’ve thought that someone had come into a room behind me and when I’ve turned around there’s been no one there. Another time I thought I heard someone call me from upstairs, but when I went up to check, all the rooms were empty. Oh, and there’s Alfie too . . .’ She glanced towards the dog, who was curled up in his basket. ‘He always used to sleep in Jo’s room when we lived in our other house, but since coming to live here he refuses to go upstairs.’