Back in Service (8 page)

‘Hetty, my love.’ He half rose to greet her, but then settled back in the chair with the heavy ledger book still open across his lap. ‘What have you been up to this past hour?’

‘What has your father been up to, more like,’ she retorted.

‘What? You are not telling me he is up to his old tricks again, are you?’

‘Yes. Being chair-bound has not affected his appetites in the least.’

‘Hmm. I suppose he is eating well, too?’

They both laughed, and she perched jauntily on his knee after he closed the big accounts book and placed it on the table beside his chair. Then he slipped his arms round her waist and buried his head in her breasts. ‘Oh Hetty, I was dreading returning here,’ he confessed. ‘But now we are home again, I must admit I feel a certain relief. But if father is going to make life miserable for you—’

‘Have no fear, Leo, he will not, for I shall not let him. It is Jane I feel for. She has been the object of his indecent assaults ever since she came here, just as I was.’

‘Hmm… then we must think about how to prevent him. He is still nominal head of the family, his indisposition notwithstanding. Perhaps the answer lies with Nanny Baines. It is vital we get her on our side, Hetty. With her help we may teach him how to behave. She certainly knew how to instil good behaviour into me when I was a boy, and I do not mean just with reprimands, stopping pocket money and the banning of minor privileges, either.’

‘Really? What do you mean then, Leo?’

‘She was an expert in the art and craft of physical torment, Hetty, corporal punishment with refinements. Her methods were quite ingenious, so I am sure she could invent ways to make life a misery for that old lecher, my father.’

Hetty grinned. ‘Then let us make her acquaintance straight away. I will grovel and flatter, if necessary, to get in her good books.’

Hetty was missing Paris. After all the colour and vivacity of French city life, Longton Hall seemed intolerably dull. Although Sir Victor once deemed his son unfit to manage his land, the training Leo had received was now bearing fruit. With his father incapacitated, he rose to the challenge and spent long hours out of doors seeing to the drainage of the land, the repairing of fences and the felling of trees. However, being unused to outdoor life, he was exhausted by the end of the day and usually retired early. So the days and evenings stretched long and empty before Hetty despite her efforts to keep busy. She had a daily interview with the cook to discuss the menu, and there were occasional afternoon visitors to entertain, such as Lady Cosham and her spinster daughter. She also had recourse to the library, but there were few novels and rather too many scientific tomes for her taste.

Once a month she wrote to her family in her round, childish script knowing her brother would be able to decipher her words and read them aloud, but there was little news to report. By now she should have started a family, but she had not yet conceived, and with Leo too fatigued to perform his conjugal duties at night, there was little hope of such a happy event in the near future.

She missed the sensual side of married life greatly, but she was unwilling to put further pressure on her already harassed husband. Instead, she dreamed of Paris and how happy they were in the first flush of their wedded bliss. To please him, she had often dressed as George, and for some reason he seemed to find it easier to confide in her when she wore men’s clothing. He also liked her to chastise him, pretending to be a schoolboy with George posing as his sixth form idol. She would put all her strength into beating his bare arse, but he only urged her on with ‘Harder! Harder!’ After these little scenes, their lovemaking had always been more passionate than ever.

To relieve her boredom, and because she genuinely liked her, Hetty spent as much time as she could with Jane. The girl was pleasant and chatty. They came from similar backgrounds, although rural life in the north sounded harder than down south, where Hetty was born and where the weather was more clement.

Lady Alice apparently noticed the budding friendship between them, for she summoned Hetty to speak with her in private. ‘Jane is a good girl,’ she began, ‘but she lacks some of the finer points. I wonder if you would do me the great favour of training her a little. She does not dress my hair as well as you used to, and my wardrobe is not as well kept, either. Sometimes she fails to get a stain out or she irons my lace and ruffles carelessly. She is neglectful of my footwear and the toilet water she makes is not so strongly and sweetly scented as yours. You know how I love a good strong toilet water of lavender or rosemary, but hers are weak and fade quickly. I think she is not following the recipe faithfully.’

‘I will do my best, Alice.’ Hetty was glad of the opportunity to spend more time with Jane. As well as enjoying her company, she also wanted to protect the girl from further indignities at the hands of Sir Victor.

It was in the capacity of Jane’s advisor and protector that she had her first real encounter with Nanny Baines. The nurse kept mainly to Sir Victor’s quarters, away from the family and the other servants; Hetty only caught occasional glimpses of her as she wheeled her charge around. But early one morning, when she and Jane were in the stillroom together, the formidable nurse suddenly loomed in the doorway.

‘Lady Alice told me you would be here,’ she announced. ‘Sir Victor is almost out of Hungary water and will need more soon. Make sure it is good and strong.’ She glared at the pair of them in such a way that Hetty found herself feeling guilty even though she had no cause to. Something about Nanny Baines made her blood run cold and she was relieved when the woman turned and left as abruptly as she had arrived.

‘That woman,’ she muttered. ‘Have you had much to do with her, Jane?’

‘Very little, but she has found cause to scold me on several occasions. I do not think she has ever given me a pleasant word.’

‘I doubt she is capable of it. She is a real sour puss, that one, and her size and strength make her seem more of a man than a woman. But I suppose you would have to be strong to turn Sir Victor and lift him in and out of his wheelchair. No doubt she is good at her job.’

‘Hetty,’ Jane said anxiously, ‘what is
Hungary
water?’

‘You have not made it before? Never mind, I shall help you.’

‘But what is it for?’

‘It was invented for a Hungarian queen who lost the use of her limbs.’ Hetty knew a great deal about herbs and their uses. Being fascinated by the topic, she often consulted the old Herbal in the library. ‘Sir Victor must believe it will cure his paralysis. I dare say he uses it liberally on his legs, so we will need to make a good quantity.’ She scanned the shelves, where jars, crocks and bowls held the precious harvest of herbs, spices and dried flowers. ‘I think everything we need is here.’

She instructed Jane, and watched as the girl weighed out the dried ingredients – rosemary, lavender, wallflower, mint, rose petals and lemon peel. Then she showed her how to pound cloves and cinnamon in the pestle and mortar, and as she worked with Jane’s small hand in hers, she detected a faint flush on her cheek that made her heart start beating faster.

When the dry mixture was prepared, she showed Jane how to measure the alcohol for steeping, and then it was all poured into a crock and well sealed. ‘You must check it every few days, and if the scent is not strong enough you must repeat the procedure with fresh ingredients.’

‘Oh, thank you for showing me all that, miss.’ Her sweet mouth pursed to bestow a kiss, and to Hetty’s surprise instead of pecking her cheek Jane kissed her full on the lips.

Now it was her turn to blush as familiar feelings swept through her body. She was accustomed to experiencing such arousal when Leo caressed her, but not when another woman kissed her, and it made her wonder what Jane was feeling. One glance at those rosy cheeks and bright eyes suggested she had found the experience somewhat titillating, too.

Embarrassed, she ordered Jane in a businesslike tone to tidy the shelves. ‘You will be all right here now? I have not yet discussed today’s menu with cook.’

She averted her gaze. ‘Yes, Hetty,’ she murmured, ‘and thank you so much.’

Later, Jane informed her that Nanny Baines had returned to the stillroom and, finding her alone, threatened her with punishment if the Hungary water should prove unsatisfactory to Sir Victor.

‘Do not fret, Jane, it will turn out to be the very finest of toilet waters.’

‘Miss Hetty… will you allow me to dress your hair? Lady Alice has been very critical of my hairdressing of late and I think I need more practice.’

‘Why certainly, Jane, let us sit in front of her ladyship’s dressing table so we can see ourselves in the mirror.’ Hetty knew Lady Alice was in the village doing charitable work that afternoon, so it was safe to be in her room and take the liberty of using her dressing table. She sat down on the silk covered stool, took the pins out of her hair and let it tumble down over her shoulders.

At once Jane plunged both hands into her mane. ‘Oh Miss Hetty, you have such beautiful hair, so thick and glossy…’ She bent over and pressed a handful to her cheeks, her eyes closed and her expression blissful.

Watching her in the glass, Hetty felt a shock of excitement that was strangely erotic. ‘Err… Jane, dear, shall we get started?’

Jane snapped out of her strange sensual reverie with an embarrassed, ‘Oh yes, Miss Hetty,’ as she straightened up. ‘Should I begin with the brush?’

‘I used to give Lady Alice a hundred strokes to start with.’

Once her hair had been brushed to gleaming perfection, she instructed Jane in the art of curling and pinning, combing and plaiting. The touch of the girl’s soft fingers, which sometimes brushed against her ears or the nape of her neck, sent shivers of unaccustomed delight down her spine. She had not felt so sensually aroused since the early days of Leo’s courtship. Then a covert glance in the mirror showed her Jane had fallen into that oddly blissful trance again caressing her hair. The room was silent save for the gentle ticking of the carriage clock on the bedside table, and Hetty felt an almost unbearable tension coiling inside her. She wanted to make small talk, to ease the powerful feelings hovering below the surface of her restrained behaviour, yet she hesitated to break the spell. The girl’s gentle touch was making her breasts swell and her nipples strain against the light constraint of her camisole. She shifted her thighs restlessly, and became aware of the throbbing button of flesh nestled in the nook between them above the warm moisture of her pussy. Her desire was growing by the second and becoming almost unbearable, yet she was ashamed to reveal how she felt, and even more afraid of doing anything to ease her frustration. If Jane rebuffed her advances, if she was shocked and disgusted, she would go tattling to Lady Alice and then everyone would learn Hetty’s shameful secret, including Leo and Sir Victor. The consequences would be utterly disastrous. Therefore, she kept a tight rein on her feelings and maintained an air of propriety. In any case, how could she set herself up as Jane’s protector against the wicked Sir Victor if she subjected her to similar improprieties herself? It was unthinkable. She must preserve a correct distance between them at all times…

‘There, Miss Hetty, what do you think?’ Jane finally broke the awkward silence. She lifted the ebony hand mirror lying on the dressing table and showed Hetty her handiwork.

‘Very good, Jane, you have pleated it beautifully and set the combs well.’

‘But your hair is so easy to work with, not like Lady Alice’s. Hers is so thin and dry.’

‘Have you made up any of her favourite pomade?’

‘No, I did not know the recipe, Miss Hetty. There is still a little left in the pot.’

‘Show me.’

She opened a drawer and drew out a small earthenware pot Hetty recognised as the one she had filled with pomade when she was last at Longton. There was only a tiny smear left in the bottom.

‘Good gracious, Jane, you are not still using this?’ She held it up to her nose. ‘Ugh! It is far from fresh and should have been thrown away ages ago. Come, let us go to the stillroom and make up a new batch. You will find her ladyship’s hair much easier to handle if you use some fresh pomade.’

As they neared the stillroom, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones, Hetty felt her heart fluttering with apprehension. She knew now the place continued to be a favourite haunt of Sir Victor’s, even in his wheelchair, and of the fearsome Nanny Baines as well. They both seemed to possess a kind of sixth sense about when the room was occupied by a young, vulnerable woman.

She closed the door behind them and settled down to show Jane how to make the kind of scented hair cream Lady Alice preferred. As time passed, and no one appeared to disturb them, they were lulled into a sense of false security heating up herbal essences on the little stove with purified lard and olive oil. Soon the room smelt pungently of rosemary, elderflower and camomile.

‘Clean the old jar thoroughly,’ Hetty instructed. ‘You will need to use soda and pumice to get rid of the grease.’

Then suddenly the door of the stillroom flew open and Nanny Baines filled the threshold with her impressive bulk. ‘I thought I would find you here,’ she said almost accusingly. ‘Is that Hungary water ready yet?’

Before Hetty could intervene Jane reached for the bottle. ‘Yes, Nanny Baines.’

‘Then come with me,’ the nurse ordered brusquely. ‘Sir Victor wishes to have it applied to his limbs.’

‘You mean… you mean he wants
me
to apply it?’

‘He asked expressly for you. Your hands are more gentle and softer than mine. Come, girl, what are you waiting for? The poor man longs for some relief.’

Hetty felt a sense of foreboding as she watched the ill-matched pair disappear down the corridor, Jane clutching the bottle to her breast and half running to keep up with the taller woman’s long strides. She tidied up the stillroom and went up to her room feeling strangely listless. After drawing the curtains, she lay down on the bed to rest, but shortly thereafter was roused from her nap by her husband.

‘Hetty, dear,’ he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and caressing her cheek. ‘Asleep in the afternoon? Do you have a headache?’

‘No.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I suppose, truth to tell, I was feeling rather bored.’

‘Well I could do with a rest myself,’ he declared, taking off his boots and stretching out beside her. ‘I have been struggling in that lower field all afternoon, but have made little progress. The summerhouse is coming along well, though. All the rubbish has been cleared out and the roof mended. It will dry out when we get some fine weather and—’

She planted her lips on his to silence him and gave him a lingering kiss. ‘I do not want to hear another word about the affairs of the estate,’ she told him. ‘It is all you ever talk about these days. I would rather know more about what is going on inside this house than outside of it. Nanny Baines, for example.’

‘What about her?’

‘You said it would be a good idea to get her on our side, yet she seems distant and formal whenever I meet her. How has she been with you?’

‘Much the same,’ he admitted. ‘You would never think she spanked my bottom when I was a child, or fed me with a spoon or tucked me up at night. I have watched her with father and she treats him like a big baby, too, yet he seems to relish it.’