Hope. Part 7

1844.

'Hurry up, Hope,' Nell whispered. 'He's getting cross.'

Hope said nothing, and continued to tie her bootlaces at the same leisurely pace. Albert liked to ape the gentry, insisting Nell should lay the breakfast table properly every morning and wait on him. He also expected Hope to be completely ready for work before joining him at the table.

She thought it was ridiculous laying the table when there was nothing more to eat than a slice of bread. Her father used to swig his tea down as he got dressed, then grab the bread and eat it on the way to his work. But then, he preferred to spend an extra ten minutes cuddling her mother in bed, and he wouldn't have dreamt of giving her the extra work of laying the table at five in the morning.

Hope couldn't voice her opinion because Albert would take it out on Nell, so the only form of protest open to her was to be so slow getting ready that she didn't have to sit there with him.

Albert got up, his chair sc.r.a.ping on the stone floor. 'Right! Nothing for you,' he snapped at her. 'Nell, clear the table. She's got to learn the hard way.'

Hope stifled a giggle. She didn't want any bread anyway; when she got to the big house Cook would give her porridge with honey on it.

Nell had put his coat in front of the fire to warm it, another thing Albert insisted on. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, then turned to his wife. 'Don't you dare give her anything,' he said, pointing a finger at Hope. 'I shall check the bread when I come back later.'

He left without a goodbye, and slammed the door behind him. Hope giggled.

Nell half-smiled, for she knew about the porridge she always had some herself too. 'I wish you wouldn't tease him that way. Can't you do what he wants, just for me?'

'I would if it made him nicer,' Hope said wistfully, and she went to her sister and hugged her. 'I'm never going to get married if that's what men are like.'

'They aren't all like it,' Nell reminded her. 'Remember Father, and look at the way Matt is. But you'd better go, or you'll be late.'

'Not me,' Hope grinned. 'I'll be there before Albert.'

Once outside the cottage door, Hope broke into a run. Albert was half-way up the drive, but she knew she could beat him to the house easily. She liked running, especially on a frosty February morning like this one, even if it wasn't considered ladylike. She would arrive at Briargate with rosy cheeks, warm inside and out, and it would even make her forget how much she hated her brother-in-law.

She ran past him at full pelt, and once she was well out of his reach turned round to face him and waved cheekily. With luck he would be freezing cold all day working outside. If he'd only learn to be nice to people, Cook would let him into the kitchen to get warmed up and give him porridge too.

It was only four months since her parents had died, but it seemed like years. Some days the ache for them was so acute she thought she could die of it. Their faces were imprinted on her mind, she heard their voices inside her head, and curiously, it was the things that she'd hardly noticed when they were alive that she missed most. The way Father would cluck her under the chin when he came in from work or Mother would always kiss her forehead when she'd finished brus.h.i.+ng her hair. This was tangible evidence of their love for her, for neither of her parents was the type to put their feelings into words.

Yet they had been so big on communication in the family. They wanted to know everything everyone had done each day; no one ever escaped being questioned about who they'd seen or talked to.

Nell had been just the same before she married Albert. Every time she came to the cottage she wanted to know every single thing that had happened since her last visit. Hope's earliest memories were of vying with Joe and Henry to get to her lap first and Nell sitting on the floor so all three of them could have a bit of her. She was so gay and fun-loving, always ready to play with them, but so tender and caring too.

Hope thought she wouldn't miss her parents so much if Nell had still been that person, but she was tense and watchful now, rarely laughing when Albert was there, and for ever cleaning and tidying. There was no conversation at all between Nell and Albert. Nell might ask what he'd done during the day, but his curt replies implied he resented her even speaking. It wasn't even possible for Hope and Nell to talk together, either, for he would glare at them, and that made Nell more nervous.

Albert was a tyrant, just as Hope had suspected. He showed no love for Nell; in truth he treated her as though she was his servant. He never lit the fire for her or brought in a pail of water. He would watch as she struggled to empty the tin bath or chop wood. He looked for things out of place mud on the floor, the rug not straight in front of the fire, dust on the mantelpiece and then he'd drag Nell over to it, pointing at it as if she were a dog who had p.i.s.sed in the house.

Once she'd forgotten to make their bed, and when she got back from Briargate late in the evening, he pounced on her and, holding her by the ear, dragged her upstairs to point out her mistake. He seemed to forget she had a job too, and that sometimes she worked far longer days than him. It was always 'What's this?' 'Why have you done that?' or 'How many times do I have to tell you?' He seemed incapable of praise, grat.i.tude or even plain kindness.

The only good times were when he went to the ale house at Chelwood. Hope and Nell would get right up close to the fire and chat about the past, and things that went on in Briargate. But even then Nell couldn't relax completely for she always had one ear c.o.c.ked for Albert returning, and if he was tipsy he could be even nastier than usual.

Sundays were simply interminable. Nell went off to the big house very early, and Hope had to make the long walk to church alone with Albert. He never spoke, and although once they got to the village the sight of all her old friends and neighbours made her feel the loss of her parents even more keenly, he would not allow her more than the briefest of greetings. If Lady Harvey had guests, Nell had to return to Briargate after church, and Hope had to cook Albert's dinner. Nothing she ever did was right, even though she'd become quite good at cooking since helping in the kitchens.

Later, he would sit right in front of the fire, blocking any heat from her, and he wouldn't allow her to read anything other than the Bible. Those hours alone with him were the ones she dreaded most, for he was a violent man when crossed. He had hit her on several occasions and she knew he often beat Nell, even if she refused to admit it. So, alone with him, Hope had to be extra careful she gave him no excuse to round on her.

Working at Briargate was the only thing that made her life tolerable. She could forget about Albert there because she saw Ruth and James every day, and Cook, Mr Baines and the other servants made her feel she was part of a big family again. Like any family, they were sometimes grumpy and short with her, but she knew in her heart that they liked her, and that went some way to compensate for Albert.

During the time she'd come to Briargate to play with Rufus she had never imagined that one day she'd be expected to scrub pots and pans in the scullery, or spend hours cutting up vegetables, and sometimes she resented that she had to. She so much wanted to go beyond the kitchen, to walk up that beautiful staircase the way she used to and go into the nursery to see Rufus.

But that wasn't allowed. She had to refer to him as Master Rufus now, just like everyone else. The closest she got to him was when she helped with the laundry and had to wash one of his s.h.i.+rts or undergarments. Occasionally he came down to the kitchen to see Cook, and from her position in the scullery she marvelled at his clear, rather high, commanding voice, for she remembered him with a babyish lisp. If she peeped round the door it was hard to believe that the little gentleman in a stiff collar, dark jacket and breeches was the same boy who used to roll around the nursery floor with her, dressed in a sailor suit.

She did, of course, see him at church almost every Sunday. But as the Harveys' pew was right at the front of the church, and her family sat at the back, she only got a glimpse of his blond hair. Before her parents died, Hope had often tried to speak to him in the churchyard, but though his little face would light up when he saw her, Miss Bird, his governess, prevented him from coming to speak to her.

Her mother had always said she'd better learn quickly that gentry didn't want their children mixing with common folk, but Hope didn't see herself as that. She had, after all, been brought up with the story that she was a fairy child, and to her that meant she was destined for better things. While for now she knew she had to keep her place and do whatever she was ordered to do, she comforted herself with the thought that one day she'd be her own mistress.

Baines was very fond of saying that there were few opportunities for girls other than going into service, but then he'd been a servant since he was twelve, so what did he know of the real world? Cook would smile knowingly whenever Hope spoke of wanting to do some other kind of work; she seemed to think marriage was a far better option. But any romantic notions Hope might once have held about marriage had been killed off by observing Nell and Albert. To her, being in service or marriage amounted to much the same thing, a lifetime of drudgery. She wanted something better for herself.

Hope was cleaning some silver in the scullery in the early afternoon when she heard Rose come into the kitchen.

'Captain Pettigrew's come a-calling again,' she said importantly to Cook. 'Funny he always comes when the master is away!'

'Rose!' Cook exclaimed. 'You shouldn't say such things. If Mr Baines was to hear you!'

Hope was out of sight of the two older women but well within hearing distance. She had to hope Baines wasn't too, because Cook was right. Hardly a week pa.s.sed without him reminding them all that they should not repeat anything they heard or saw their master and mistress doing.

Baines was tall and whip-thin, and in his grey striped trousers, tailed coat and stiff wing-collar, with spectacles perched precariously on the end of his overlong nose, he put Hope in mind of a heron.

He had the sharp eyes, grace and patience of the heron too. He missed nothing, not a smear on a knife or a napkin not properly ironed, and he expected all the servants to maintain the high standards he set so much store by. But for all that he was a kindly, fair man, and he seemed to have the answer to any question and the solution to any problem. Cook always said he was the first butler she'd ever worked under who wasn't an a.r.s.e-wipe.

Cook also said that when Rose first came to Briargate, she had set her cap at Baines and been very disappointed when he didn't respond. Now in her late thirties, a plain, angular woman who knew she was destined to remain a spinster, she was over-fond of poking her nose into other people's affairs, be that her master and mistress's or the other servants'.

'The Captain's charming, I grant him that,' Rose went on, seemingly not put off by Cook's warning. 'Devilish handsome too! Nell got all in a fl.u.s.ter when she saw him.'

Hope's antennae became finely tuned at Nell's name, and although she continued polis.h.i.+ng the candlestick in her hand, she slowed down so she wouldn't miss anything.

'I'd get in a fl.u.s.ter over a charming man too if I was married to Albert,' Cook retorted and chuckled.

Hope smiled; she was always glad when one of the servants admitted they didn't like Albert. They were discreet in front of Nell, but away from her they agreed he was pompous, self-righteous and entirely lacking a sense of humour. Hope could easily have added half a dozen more bad traits, but for Nell's sake she kept those to herself. She had never admitted to anyone, not even James and Ruth, how bad it was living with him.

'I don't mean that I think Nell's sweet on him,' Rose said quickly. 'It's more like she saw Old Nick come through the door. Is she afraid for the mistress? Or has the Captain done something to her?'

'If you know what's good for you, you'll keep such thoughts to yourself,' Cook retorted sharply.

Hope was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with curiosity now; she had to take a look at this man who fl.u.s.tered Nell.

Unfortunately she had no excuse to go anywhere in the house. She was a kitchenmaid, and the kitchen was where she had to stay.

Cook always had a little rest between three and four in the afternoon. Mostly she just sat in her chair by the stove and dozed a little, but that afternoon her legs, which often troubled her, were very swollen and she said she was going to have a lie-down in her room.

'If I'm not back here by four, put the kettle on for tea and come and get me,' she said to Hope.

Baines was in his parlour busy with his accounts, Rose was in the dining room laying the table for supper, and Ruby had the afternoon off and had gone down to the village. With everyone gone, Hope got on with scrubbing the kitchen and scullery floor. When she came back in from tipping the dirty water away out in the yard, she was surprised to see it was almost four, and Cook wasn't back.

This had never happened before. Cook always asked to be called, but it was never needed. While it was the excuse Hope had wanted to go beyond the kitchen, she was suddenly nervous. She put the kettle on, changed her ap.r.o.n, straightened her cap, and after a few minutes' hesitation went out into the hall.

The backstairs on the east side of the house that led from beyond the servants' hall right up to the attic rooms were the ones she was supposed to use, but she wouldn't catch even a glimpse of the Captain that way. But if she took a chance on crossing the hall, going up the main staircase and then nipping along the landing past the master and mistress's rooms, if anyone saw her before she reached the backstairs, she'd be in trouble.

Hearing Lady Harvey's voice coming from the drawing room, which meant the door was open, she turned back. Maybe it would be better to watch for the Captain going round to the stables to get his horse no one could tell her off for going out into the yard.

As she made her way up the backstairs, Hope reflected on their meanness. They were narrow and steep, and the plain whitewashed walls were marked and gouged from the pa.s.sage of so many servants carrying heavy loads up and down them. It always seemed absurd to her that while servants had intimate knowledge of their master and mistress's bodies, personal habits and every other aspect of their lives, they had to use a separate staircase.

Hope rapped on Cook's door and called out that it was after four. When there was no reply she opened the door and peeped in.

But instead of finding Cook still fast asleep as she expected, she was lying face down on the floor.

'Cook!' she exclaimed in dismay, rus.h.i.+ng to her and rolling her over.

To her horror the older woman's face was chalky-white, with an angry red mark on the forehead, clearly the result of banging her head on the bed as she fell. Her skin was ice-cold, and when she didn't respond in any way to Hope chafing her hands, the girl thought she was dead.

Hope rushed out of the room and clattered down the backstairs two at a time, then, because she was so panicked about Cook, she ran straight for Lady Harvey in the drawing room.

'It's Cook, m'lady,' she blurted out as she charged in. 'She's fallen down in her room and I think she's dead.'

'You didn't knock!' Lady Harvey reproved her. 'Whatever are you thinking of, Hope? It's Baines who deals with the servants.'

Hope had not only forgotten her manners and Baines, but in her haste she'd forgotten about the Captain. He had jumped out of his chair by the fire as she rushed in, and she immediately recognized him as the same tall and slender man she'd seen in the front garden on her first visit to Briargate almost six years earlier.

'She's just a child,' he said, looking askance at Lady Harvey. 'Look how frightened she is!'

'She's all cold and stiff.' Hope directed this at the Captain for he was clearly more sympathetic than her mistress. 'I turned her over because she was on her face, but I couldn't lift her on to the bed on my own.'

'Has she complained of feeling unwell?' Lady Harvey asked, finally getting to her feet. Her face was cold and stiff too, but Hope realized this was through anger at the interruption.

'No, m'lady,' Hope said, tears springing to her eyes with shock. 'She said her legs were bad, that's all, and she'd have a lie-down for an hour. She said I was to call her if she wasn't down again by four.'

'We must get a doctor of course,' the Captain said. 'But I have a little medical knowledge, m'lady, so maybe I could go up to see what I can do until he gets here?'

'Yes, of course, Captain Pettigrew.' Lady Harvey looked fl.u.s.tered now. She turned to Hope. 'You go and tell James to saddle up, and fetch Nell too.'

The Captain strode out of the room, Lady Harvey following him. Hope ran out to the stables and told James what had happened, then tore back up the stairs to find Nell.

She was in the little room next to Lady Harvey's bedroom where she did her sewing. As the door opened her eyes widened in alarm.

Hope ran into her arms and told her what had happened. 'I think she's dead, Nell,' she sobbed out. 'And Lady Harvey didn't even care, she said I should have got Baines.'

'That's just her way,' Nell said. 'She don't really mean it, 'spect it was a shock to her too. You go on downstairs again, I'll go up and see what I can do.'

The house had been as quiet as a church all the time Hope had been scrubbing the kitchen floor but as Nell rushed up to the attic and Hope ran back down the stairs, suddenly there was tumult. Baines appeared in the hall demanding to know what was going on, Rose came out of the dining room and Rufus came haring out of the schoolroom, closely followed by a distracted-looking Miss Bird calling out that his lessons weren't over yet. Ruth was there behind them too, looking startled; later she was to admit to Hope her first thought was that she'd been up to some mischief.

Ruth was still called nursemaid, and saw to Rufus before and after his lessons, but she filled in the time she wasn't with him by standing in wherever she was needed. This meant she did Rose, Ruby and Nell's jobs on their afternoons off, and quite often helped Cook when there was a dinner party. She was closer to Cook than any one, and looked stricken when she was told what had happened.

Everyone forgot their place, even Baines, and they were out in the big hall all talking at once when the Captain came back down the stairs.

'Back into the kitchen with you,' he said, but his tone was gentle and understanding. 'Cook is not dead fortunately, but she is gravely ill. I believe it is her heart.'

He herded them all back into the kitchen and came with them, saying that sick people needed quiet. James was waiting on the saddled horse for instructions and the Captain went out and told him to ride for the doctor. When he returned he made the suggestion that Ruth should go up and stay with Cook until the doctor arrived, and that Nell should go to her mistress as she was in shock.

'And you, little one,' he said, turning to Hope. 'I think you should make tea for everyone. Can you do that?'

Until then, Hope had looked upon Baines as the most admirable man she knew. Yet suddenly the Captain seemed far more impressive for he'd not only taken her part against Lady Harvey, he'd also taken command of the whole house. She could see exactly why he made Nell fl.u.s.tered, for he was so handsome with his large dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. She felt warm inside that he'd called her 'little one', for her father used to call her that. But there was something more; she thought it was wonderful the way he looked directly at each person he spoke to, taking in their name, their position in the house and even their character, as if he considered every one of them of vital importance. She'd never before met anyone quite like him; Sir William wasn't that way at all; he walked past everyone with barely a nod. Hope didn't think he even knew who worked for him, let alone their names.

Once the Captain had gone back into the drawing room, he said he'd wait there until the doctor came in case he was needed. Baines cleared his throat and gave out his instructions.

Hope felt that although he said he was glad the Captain had been here in the emergency, he was a bit annoyed that a visitor had taken over his role.

'It may be weeks before Cook is well enough to work again,' he said, but the sad tone of his voice hinted that he didn't expect to see her in the kitchen ever again. 'Meanwhile we must all keep the house running smoothly by pitching in and doing extra duties.'

He divided up Rose's parlourmaid duties between the other maids and told Rose she would have to take Cook's place.

'I can't do that, Mr Baines.' Rose looked aghast. 'Nell and Ruth are both much better at it than me.'

Baines shrugged. 'Then it will be useful practice for you. Hope will help you she may be very young but Cook has trained her well.'

Hope glowed at the words of praise, but a second later she was smarting because Baines said she would also have to help Ruby with the fire-lighting in the mornings. In effect this would mean Hope would have to do almost all of it, for Ruby was slow, and struggled with just the fires in the nursery and schoolroom.

Baines then went on to say he was also going to ask Lady Harvey if she would consider cancelling the big dinner party she had planned for the following week as Rose was not an experienced cook.

Baines had only just left the kitchen when Albert came to the back door. He was very dirty and his face was like thunder.

'Why are you still here?' he snarled at Hope. 'The fire's out and there's no supper for me.'

Because of all the drama, Hope hadn't noticed that it was well after six. She always went home after laying the tray for Master Rufus's tea, and it was her job to stir up the fire, put the kettle on and heat up whatever Nell had made for Albert's supper in readiness for his return home around six.

'I'm sorry,' she said, then launched into an explanation about Cook.

'That's no concern of mine,' he snapped, cutting her off in mid-sentence. 'A man who has been working outside all day needs his victuals. Get home now.'

Rose came into the kitchen just as Hope was getting her shawl and bonnet. 'Nell won't be home tonight,' she called out to Albert. 'Baines thinks she might be needed here.'

Hope's heart sank as she saw Albert's face darken even further at discovering he would be without his personal lackey for the night, but Rose had now aggravated him still further by speaking so dismissively.

There was a sharp frost again, and Hope s.h.i.+vered as she trotted along behind Albert in the dark. She was scared: to her knowledge Nell hadn't been able to slip home earlier in the day to prepare some food for his supper as she usually did. If the fire had gone out too, it would be ages before Hope would be able to rustle something up. Albert wasn't going to like that.

The cottage was icy cold, the stove out. This was evidence Nell hadn't been back during the day as she always put more fuel on it when she came in. Hope quickly raked it out, laid a few dry twigs over some paper and then set light to it. She was very nervous because Albert was standing over her, glowering, and she offered up a silent prayer that it wouldn't go out. Luck was on her side: the wood caught quickly and as she slowly added larger pieces of wood they blazed merrily.

'Let me take your coat, and you sit down here where it's warmer,' she said, looking up at Albert. She wouldn't normally have spoken so sweetly to him, but she was afraid he was going to explode.

'I want hot tea and something in my belly,' he snarled. 'And quickly.'

Hope put the kettle on and scuttled out to look in the pantry which was situated in the lean-to scullery. There was half a loaf of bread, some cheese and the remains of the lamb stew from the previous night. She breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to prepare something from scratch.

Within fifteen minutes Hope had the kettle on the boil, the table laid and the potatoes cooking. She had added a few lumps of coal to the stove to keep the blaze more constant, and as she warmed the teapot she tipped some of the hot water from the kettle into a bowl for Albert to wash his hands.

'There you are,' she said, adding a little cold water to it. 'The tea will be made by the time your hands are clean.'