Heir to Greyladies (4 page)

‘It’s still not much.’

‘It’ll be enough if you’re careful. In a house like that
you’ll get tips now and then from guests. All the general tips go into a pot and even the youngest gets a share of those every quarter, plus a few shillings extra at Christmas. Now, let’s have our breakfast. I like two slices of toast with jam, but I daresay a growing girl like you will want more.’

‘I do get a bit hungry. Sorry.’

‘There’s plenty of bread and some apples as well. I like a nice juicy apple.’

Once they’d eaten and cleared up the kitchen, Mrs Miller said, ‘We’ll go upstairs and I’ll show you how to make the beds
properly
. You’ve just dragged the covers over yours. Slovenly, that is. Then you can show me your clothes.’

‘They’re not very nice and I haven’t got a lot of stuff.’

‘Doesn’t matter because we’ll make a list and I’ll get the money from Winifred to buy what’s needed. After that, you should learn to make your own clothes. It’s much cheaper.’

‘The teacher at school said I’m not very good at sewing.’

‘How hard did you try?’

Harriet wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Not very. It’s not very interesting, sewing.’

‘No, but it comes in useful. So that’s another thing you’ll need to learn
properly
. You should start making a list.’

‘How can I learn to sew better if I’m working as a maid?’

‘There’ll be somebody to help you at Dalton House. All the girls sew. Most of them make their own clothes. Some make stuff for their bottom drawer, others like to embroider. The family used to have a sewing and mending woman come to the house one day a week, probably still do. Make friends with her and ask her help. If she’s willing to teach you, ask the housekeeper to make time for you to learn. She won’t say no, because you’ll be able to do simple
mending for them then.’ She waited. ‘Well, is that agreed?’

‘Yes. And thank you for helping me, Mrs Miller. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ She shivered.

The old woman snorted. ‘I’m no saint. I’m earning good money from helping you. Mind you, that said, I’d definitely rather do good than evil in this world. Makes life pleasanter all round.’

By the time Harriet went to bed that night, her head was full of new ways of doing things, new ways of looking at the world, and if she’d heard the word ‘properly’ once, she’d heard it a hundred times. Still, the day had flown by, at least.

Mrs Miller said you should learn anything you could, whether you liked doing it or not, whether you thought you’d need it or not. That made sense.

And though he was in the same town, there had been no sign of Norris prowling round this house. Harriet had looked out of the window to check several times after he’d have stopped work for the day. You couldn’t be too careful.

She thought Mrs Miller had noticed what she was doing, but the old lady hadn’t commented. Mrs Miller seemed to notice everything. She was all right, though, under that sharp way of talking. Kind, even.

Strange to think she was a relative of Winifred. They were like chalk and cheese. Winifred was a horrible woman and Harriet hoped she’d never see her again as long as she lived.

Norris sat scowling into the fire, slippered feet resting on the fender.

‘You’re a fool,’ his mother said suddenly.

‘I’m a man, with a man’s needs. You can’t turn me back into a lad.’

‘Well, men who have a bit of sense in their heads don’t mess in their own backyard.’

‘Harriet’s been egging me on.’

Winifred slammed her hand down on the arm of her chair. ‘Let that be the last time you lie to me about that.’

Their eyes met and he was the first to look away.

‘Harriet has
not
been egging you on. She’s young for her age, won’t be ready for a man for a year or two yet, if I’m any judge. Comes of all that damned book learning.’

‘I’m going to have her one day.’

‘Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought. She’ll never want you after what you did to her. Now, enough of your sulking. Help me make a list of what we can sell. I’m not keeping James’s things, but I’m not giving them away, either. Those damned horse brasses will be the first to go.’

‘Why don’t we take a casual stall at the market? We’ll get more money for them that way, even after paying for hiring a stall.’

‘I thought about that, but if we do, these snooty neighbours will notice and gossip. We’re keeping our noses clean from now on, you an’ me, my lad. We’re going up in the world and appearances matter. Not that it wasn’t a good idea to take a stall, and I’m glad to see you have some brains in your head.’

‘I
am
your son.’

‘Yes. But you’re your father’s son, too, and that’s the half that worries me.’

Norris let her organise the evening and mostly kept his mouth shut, but he’d meant what he said about Harriet. No lass was going to get the better of him, not now and not in the future. Besides, he wanted her. There was something about her that he had to have.

But for the time being, his mother held all the power,
because she had the money. She also had the wit to keep the money safe and see the future more clearly than he’d done so far. It had made him think when he found her bank book and saw how much she had saved.

Norris was fed up of his stinking job, wished he’d worked harder at school and got a better one. His mother wasn’t the only one with a desire to improve her life. He intended to look around for something else, but he was going to make sure this time he found a job that suited him.

His mother had done well for someone who’d grown up in the slums.

Norris intended to watch her more carefully and learn how she did it.

Doris was very scornful of Harriet’s clothes. She picked through them, holding them as if they were full of fleas or lice.

‘They’re not dirty,’ Harriet protested. ‘I keep myself clean.’

‘They might as well be dirty, such ugly, lumpy,
cheap
things. I bet the dye runs when you wash them. Yes, I thought so. You won’t do me any credit wearing those.’

‘Winifred won’t spend much money on me, you know.’

‘She’ll spend what I tell her. There’s some writing paper in the top drawer of the bureau. Fetch it here, and my pen too. I’ll write her a note, then we’ll make our list.’

She sat chewing the end of her pen, then dipped it into the ink and began to write.

‘You have lovely handwriting,’ Harriet said.

Doris smiled down at the page. ‘Shows a lot about the writer, good handwriting does. What’s yours like?’

‘Not bad. I got top marks for penmanship at school.’

Doris shoved a piece of torn paper at her and selected
another pen from the box. ‘Show me. Write a few sentences.’

There was silence for a few minutes, apart from the scratching of their pens on the paper, then Doris stopped writing, read through what she’d written and nodded. ‘She’ll come round when I send her this.’ She held out her hand. ‘Let me see yours.’

Harriet passed over the paper, waiting anxiously while the old lady studied the poem she’d written.

‘That’s good handwriting. One thing I won’t have to teach you, at least.’

More praise, Harriet thought and tears came into her eyes.

‘What’s upsetting you now?’

‘It was just – that’s the second time you’ve praised me.’

Doris’s voice softened a little. ‘No one praised you at home, did they?’

‘Not after Mum died.’

‘Well, I only give praise when it’s due. But if it is due, I always give it.’

Harriet nodded, swallowing hard and fumbling for her handkerchief to wipe away the tears.

‘Right, then. I’ll go next door. Might as well give young Jimmy a halfpenny to deliver this as spend a halfpenny on postage. When I come back, we’ll make a proper list.’

While she was gone, Harriet washed up the dishes and let her thoughts wander.

Fate seemed to have offered her a second chance of making something of herself, though she’d far rather have become a teacher. She’d never met anyone like Mrs Miller. ‘Shrewd’, that was the best word to describe the old woman, though she wasn’t unkind with it.

It wouldn’t hurt to learn how to be shrewd.

Two weeks after Harriet’s arrival, Mrs Miller received a letter with a job offer for her guest. She read parts of it aloud.
Trust in your recommendation, as always
…
the mistress sends her regards … have enclosed a postal order for the train ticket.

Harriet would have to travel to her new job by train because Dalton House was over in the next county. ‘I have to go on my own?’

‘I’m not coming with you to hold your hand. You have a tongue in your head. Just ask for help if you don’t know what to do.’

When she was ready to leave, Mrs Miller studied her, head on one side. ‘Turn round. Yes, you’ll do. Now, I’ve done my best for you. It’s up to you after this, my girl. Work hard, be honest and cheerful, and you won’t go far wrong. And remember, always do your best, whatever it is you’re doing.’

‘I will. And thank you for all your help.’ Mrs Miller had been kind to her, and had even bought her a new hat as a present when Winifred insisted her old one would do. The
new one was a neat felt with a small brim, navy blue to match her new coat. Yes, and the old lady had helped her trim it with some ribbon she said she’d had ‘put by’. So it looked nice, which helped give Harriet confidence.

She had a sudden urge to hug Mrs Miller, but didn’t quite dare.

The old lady gave her a quick pat on the cheek, then stepped back. ‘You’ll be all right, girl. They don’t eat their servants for dinner.’

The boy next door was waiting outside with his father’s wheelbarrow loaded with Harriet’s tin trunk, bought second hand at the market, with the faded old suitcase balanced precariously on top. The trunk had her name painted on the side now. Mrs Miller had done that herself in white and it looked lovely.

There weren’t enough clothes to fill both trunk and suitcase, but that had left enough space for all her parents’ books in the trunk. She would have to change trains three times to get to Dalton House. Mrs Miller had told her how to manage this, so at each station she found a porter, watched anxiously as her trunk was unloaded from the luggage van onto his trolley, and tipped him the amount Mrs Miller had said would be right.

No one else got off the third train. It was a small country station and for a minute Harriet panicked when the train left and she couldn’t see anyone except herself and the porter. Then, as the cloud of steam from the train cleared, she saw a grey-haired man appear at the station entrance.

When he saw her, he came forward, pulling his cap off politely. ‘Harriet Benson?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Bert Billings. Groom and general dogsbody at Dalton House.’

He laughed at his description of himself as he put his cap back on again and that made her relax. He had lovely twinkling eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, so he must be quite old.

‘I’ve been sent to fetch you. Let’s get your luggage loaded on the brake.’ He pointed to a vehicle with two horses, both busy eating from their nosebags.

The porter helped him with the trunk and when she pulled out her purse to tip the porter, Bert shook his head. ‘Save your pennies. I’ll see to that. You’re on family business now.’

She put her purse away, grateful to save even threepence from the nine shillings and twopence halfpenny, which was all she had in the world. She carried the suitcase across to the brake and the men brought the trunk.

Bert spoke differently from the people she’d grown up with, his speech slower. She realised he was waiting for her and blushed for keeping him waiting.

But he didn’t seem annoyed. He indicated the driver’s bench seat. ‘Up you hop, young Harriet. We won’t put you in the back with the luggage. You’ll see more if you sit next to me.’

Once they’d left the station yard, he let the horses find their own pace and smiled at her. ‘Nervous, are ye?’

‘Yes, I am a bit.’

‘How old are you, lass?’

‘Nearly sixteen, Mr Billings.’

‘Just call me Bert. They all do. Is this your first place?’

‘What? Oh, you mean my first job.’

He clicked his tongue in a disapproving way. ‘Don’t let Mrs Stuart hear you calling it a
job
. She thinks that word sounds common and she’ll give you one of her dark looks.’

‘Oh. Right. I’ll remember that.’ He was so kind, she dared ask, ‘Um … what’s it like working at Dalton House?’

He took a moment to think, head on one said, then said, ‘It’s a good place to work. The family live quietly mostly when they’re down in the country, because their children are all grown up. The master and mistress stay up in the London house a lot of the time. When they’re here, they entertain the local gentry now sometimes, so we get a bit of company in the servants’ hall.’

He hesitated, before adding, ‘It’s partly because of Mr Joseph that they live so quietly here and don’t hold house parties.’

‘Who’s Mr Joseph?’

‘Youngest son. Been an invalid most of his life, poor lad. Look! We’re almost there.’ He didn’t say anything else about Mr Joseph and somehow she didn’t like to press him for more information.

A short time later Bert laughed as the horses began to slow down. ‘See that. These two know their own way home. I don’t have to tell them where to turn, do I, my lovelies?’

Dalton House was far bigger than Harriet had expected. From the drive she saw a long, rambling building – with other buildings behind it. Goodness, how many were there?

It was a mixture of the styles of architecture she’d learnt about in one of the books she’d borrowed from the library. She’d taken the book out because she liked looking at the pictures of big gardens full of flowers. There weren’t any flowers at all in her street.

Dalton House sat among lovely green lawns, like the ones in the park at home. Fancy having all that grass just for one house. She’d always wanted to walk barefoot on the grass in the park, but of course you couldn’t go on it, even with shoes on, or the park keepers would throw you out.

The big house seemed to be smiling at the world, and it looked like a home, even if it was a posh one. It was a mild day and there was a white table at one side of the grass, under some big shady trees. A young man was there talking to a lady standing next to him. She was carrying a basket full of flowers.

The man was sitting in a chair with big wheels on it, like bicycle wheels. Harriet squinted to get a better view of it and saw that it had rims sticking out from the wheels, which he used to move it slightly. There were smaller wheels at the front. She’d never seen a chair quite like it.

‘That’s the mistress with Mr Joseph,’ Henry said. ‘He sits out when she’ll let him. And he moves that old chair all over the place when she’s not down here. Eh, she fusses over him like a hen with one chick, because they nearly lost him a time or two when he was younger. She has four other children, three more boys and a girl, but they’re grown up and married now, got their own homes. Mr Joseph is the youngest. I doubt he’ll ever marry, poor lad.’

He hadn’t looked all that bad to Harriet. He wasn’t pale or listless like other invalids she’d seen. He’d been talking animatedly to his mother, waving his arms around and laughing at something.

They drove round to the back of the house and Bert drew up by some double doors.

‘Us servants don’t use the front door.’

She nodded. ‘Mrs Miller told me about that.’ She’d been warned to say
Mrs
Miller here.

‘How is she? We were sad to see her go, though Mrs Stuart does pretty well. Best housekeeper we ever had, Mrs Miller was. She never missed a thing, but she was fair.’

‘She’s well. She has a lovely little house and she helps at the church, visits her friends.’

‘Well, if you write to her, as I dare say you will, tell her Bert sends his regards. Now, hop down. I’ll get the lad to help me carry your things in. What’ve you got in that suitcase, rocks?’

‘Books.’

‘Ah. A reader, are you?’

‘Yes. I love reading.’

‘Tell the housekeeper. The mistress lets servants borrow books from the old schoolroom, but most of them aren’t interested in books. The maids would rather giggle and gossip. But if you like reading, you’ll find plenty of it up there.’

When she went into the kitchen, everyone stared at her and she could feel herself blushing again. Then the young woman nearest said, ‘You must be Harriet Benson. I’ll take you to Mrs Stuart straight away. I’m Jenny.’

Harriet couldn’t summon up a smile.

‘We aren’t going to torture you, you know,’ Jenny whispered.

‘It’s just … I’ve never been in service before.’

‘We all have to start somewhere.’ She knocked on a half-open door. ‘The new maid’s arrived, Mrs Stuart.’

The housekeeper was plump, with a rosy, pink face. She was wearing a black dress with cream lace collar and cuffs, very grand. ‘Come in here, child. How’s Doris?’

‘Mrs Miller’s well. She sends her regards.’

‘She taught me all I know. If she recommends someone, we always hire them if we’re needing more help. Now, tell me about yourself.’

By the time Jenny was sent for again to show the newcomer up to her bedroom, Mrs Stuart knew all about what had brought Harriet to Dalton House, even though she hadn’t intended to tell anyone about Norris’s attacks. But somehow, Mrs Stuart was so kind and motherly, it all tumbled out, and Harriet had a little weep.

Mrs Miller hadn’t wanted to know the details. Mrs Stuart did.

‘You’ll be safe here, child,’ Mrs Stuart said. ‘We don’t allow that sort of thing to go on at Dalton House. Ah, Jenny. Can you take the new girl under your wing?’

Jenny looked at Harriet’s tear-stained face in surprise but didn’t comment till they were up to the attics. ‘Were you in trouble about something?’

Harriet blushed. ‘No. The trouble was at home. I don’t know why I told Mrs Stuart, but somehow it all came out. My stepbrother was … making a bit of a nuisance of himself. I don’t even like to think about what he tried to do.’

‘He sounds a rotter. And everyone tells her their troubles. Mrs Miller was a good housekeeper, but Mrs Stuart’s a motherly person with the younger maids. Pity she never had children. If you ever need help, go to her.’

They stopped at a long narrow attic room with a sloping ceiling, one dormer window and three single beds. The trunk and suitcase were already there, waiting to be unpacked.

‘This bed will be yours,’ Jenny said. ‘And you get that chest of drawers. It’s missing a leg, so you have to leave the
brick under it, but it’s all right apart from that. And these are your hooks. Let’s get your things put away, then I’ll take you down and start you off.’

When they’d done that, they left the empty trunk and suitcase near the bed. ‘I’ll send someone to take them up to the top attic.’

Jenny hesitated, then said in a softened voice, ‘Um, I just wanted to say: not all men are like that stepbrother of yours. I’m walking out with a farmer’s son and my John’s a real gentleman. Wouldn’t do a thing to upset me, if you know what I mean. It’s because I’m leaving in the autumn to get married that they need a new junior, so you got the job. You’d miss out on a lot if you didn’t find yourself a fellow one day.’

Harriet tried not to shudder at that thought. ‘I’ll do my best to please.’

‘I’m sure you will. Come on. We’ve a lot to get through. They’re having guests to dinner tomorrow, just a few neighbours, but everything has to be perfect for the mistress.’

And so it began …

From his seat under the tree, Joseph watched the new maid arrive. ‘That girl’s got a sweet face, Mama. Doesn’t she look nervous, though?’

His mother peered short-sightedly across the lawn. ‘She’s from Mrs Miller. The girls she sends us are always good workers. She’ll soon settle in.’

Joseph changed the subject. His mother left all the management of the servants to the housekeeper, but he liked to know everyone who worked in the house. Sooner or later he’d find time to chat to the new girl.

She had beautiful hair, russet not ginger. He’d seen and loved that hair colour in a book of paintings by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Which one did she remind him of? He’d have to check.

‘Are you sure you’re not cold, dear?’

He stifled a sigh. ‘It’s a sunny day, Mama. I’m very comfortable out here.’

‘Will you be all right if I leave you for a while, then? You have your bell? Good. You can always ring if you need help.’

‘Yes, of course. But I’ll be all right.’ He let the sigh out as he watched her walk towards the house. He wished she didn’t fuss so much. Then he smiled fondly. No one was as elegant as his mama. She always looked as if she was floating when she walked, while he had an ugly limp and had to move quite slowly. He could move, though, and wished they’d let him be more active.

As he grew older, he felt to be in better health, hardly wheezed at all, wasn’t in as much pain from his hip, didn’t come down with heavy colds in winter. But he could never persuade his mother to give him even half the freedom his brothers had enjoyed.

She always quoted Dr Macleod, but
he
did just what Joseph’s mother wanted, including telling her that her son must live a quiet life.

It suited Joseph in one way, because he had no desire whatsoever to go up to London and join the social round, but things could be too quiet! He sometimes felt he would go mad with boredom here. Which was ungrateful of him when he was surrounded with such loving care.

But there you were. He was twenty-one and considered himself a man grown, though his family didn’t accept that
and still treated him like a boy. Unfortunately, he had developed a man’s physical longings and needs during the past year or two. That tormented his dreams sometimes and kept him awake, but there was no way he could see of satisfying such needs. What woman would want a man with a twisted body like his?

He couldn’t afford to marry, anyway. He’d supposed his father would set up a trust fund for him once he turned twenty-one, as he had for Joseph’s brothers, but he wasn’t equipped to earn a living and provide for a family like his brother Richard, who was a lawyer, or Thomas, who was in banking. Unless they bought him a house he’d have to stay here. He couldn’t laze away his life in a wheeled chair, reading or chatting to his family. He didn’t want to. There must be something else he could do with his life, something more worthwhile. He’d find it one day.