Heir to Greyladies (5 page)

Harriet had never worked as hard in her life, not because her employers were slave drivers, but because she had so much to learn and wanted to prove herself. She didn’t tell anyone when it was her birthday soon after her arrival. Why bother? There was no one here who really cared.

In June, the master and mistress went up to London, taking some of the staff with them.

Before they left, Harriet heard Mr Joseph insisting that the main rooms should be shut down while they were away. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he had such a lovely voice that she liked to listen to him speaking.

‘Mama, dearest, you know I never use those rooms when I’m on my own, and you usually have to hire extra staff in London. It’s such a waste of time keeping so many servants
here just for me. I infinitely prefer my small sitting room when I’m not in the library, you know I do.’

Infinitely prefer
, Harriet mouthed to herself, liking the phrase.

‘Are you sure, Joseph?’

‘I’m absolutely certain, Mama.’

‘Well, we’ll try it just this once. After all, Jenny can let us know if she needs more staff. She’s not leaving to get married for a while yet.’

Harriet felt a sudden surge of guilt at standing around eavesdropping and went off to dust and clean the housekeeper’s room. She spent most of her time cleaning up after the servants, and it’d been explained to her that new maids didn’t serve the family until everyone was sure they wouldn’t make mistakes.

She thought about what she’d overheard, though, when she went up to clean the servants’ area in the attics. To her, it had sounded as if Mr Joseph was a bit impatient about the way everyone fussed over him. Not that he was ever impolite. He seemed to have a very sweet nature. He was roughly the same age as Norris, but so unlike her stepbrother.

He spent every fine day sitting on the lawn and a couple of times, when Harriet had been cleaning the attic windows, she’d stopped to watch him for a moment or two. For some reason he fascinated her.

When his mother came out and gestured to the sky, then towards the house, he’d closed his eyes as if summoning up all his patience. After that, he’d shaken his head and said ‘No, mama!’ quite emphatically.

Harriet couldn’t hear the words, but could tell what he’d
said from the way he shaped his mouth. She’d seen him disagree with his mother once or twice before.

‘He’s not going to do as he’s told for ever,’ a voice said behind her.

She turned to see Jenny standing behind her. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘No. You were too busy staring out of the window.’

‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

Jenny smiled. ‘You work hard and if you want a breather for a minute or two, I reckon you earn it. Anyway, it’s what us servants do, isn’t it? Watch the family, I mean. Because we’re away from our own families.’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘I miss my family. I’ll see a lot more of them after I’m married.’

‘I haven’t got any family left now, not close enough to count, anyway.’

‘Well, the other servants are like a big family, aren’t they?’

Harriet didn’t contradict her, but it wasn’t the same. She still missed her mother and father dreadfully. She realised Jenny was saying something and tried to concentrate on her companion.

‘I’ve been here for eight years and I’ve seen Mr Joseph grow up. He used to be ill all the time, but in the past year or two he’s seemed a lot better. And he’s started making his own decisions. The mistress doesn’t like that. She still wants to baby him.’

‘He doesn’t look ill.’ She didn’t like to say the word ‘crippled’. It was such an ugly word and he seemed to be too nice to call a cripple. ‘It’s only when he walks that you can tell he has … um, problems.’

For a minute or two longer they both watched Mrs Dalton
argue, then spread her arms wide and stare at the sky as if giving up the attempt. Shaking her head, she walked back to the house and entered through the big French windows.

Behind her, Mr Joseph rested his head against the back of his chair as if weary. When he straightened up, he looked round furtively then threw off the blanket they always insisted on covering his legs with, before standing up.

He took a few slow steps round the table then walked back to the chair again, holding onto its back. Then he let go and moved across to the nearest tree, turning to beam triumphantly at his wheelchair.

‘He’s like a child learning to walk,’ Harriet breathed. A neighbour’s little son had been just the same, venturing further each time and beaming at the world as if it was a great accomplishment to get somewhere new.

‘I didn’t know Mr Joseph could walk so far without support,’ Jenny said. ‘And what are we doing gaping out of the window when we should be working? We’ve a lot to do before the family go to London.’

Harriet was sorry to move away. She’d like to have seen where Mr Joseph went next and how he managed. But she did as she was told, because she wasn’t paid to watch other people. ‘Are you sorry not to be going with them this time, Jenny?’

‘Not at all. London’s dirty and busy, and I never feel safe walking the streets. If it’s not pickpockets, it’s people bumping into you, they’re in such a hurry. I’d much rather be in the country, near my John. There’s still a lot to do before my wedding. I’ve all sorts of things to sew.’

‘If you want any help … I can do plain sewing.’

Jenny smiled. ‘Bless you, that’s kind. We’ll see how I go.’

But she didn’t ask for help and Harriet knew why. Try as she might, she couldn’t sew neatly. She got lost in her thoughts and put in crooked stitches. It was worrying her how she’d replace her clothes if she grew any more.

Not much else was worrying her, though. Dalton House was a happy place to work and she was so relieved to be here.

She hadn’t heard from her stepmother, but when she’d written to Mrs Miller to thank her for her help, she’d received a reply, one asking questions that needed another letter to answer.

She was hoping Mrs Miller would write again, because it was lovely to receive a letter like the other servants sometimes did, made her feel less alone in the world.

At the end of September, Jenny left to get married. The mistress gave permission for a special afternoon tea in the servants’ hall to bid her goodbye.

Everyone had bought her a present, but Harriet didn’t dare spend her remaining few shillings and she wasn’t skilled enough to sew anything worthy to be called a present, either.

Mrs Stuart found her sniffling over the fire she was lighting one morning and persuaded her to reveal why she was upset.

‘I don’t want them to think I’m mean,’ Harriet sobbed into her duster.

‘I have a book someone gave me. I’ve never opened it, because I’m not fond of reading. Why don’t you have that and give it to her? No one will be surprised at you giving her a book.’

‘But it won’t come from me. Not really. And she doesn’t read much.’

‘She’ll be getting it because of you, though, and that’s what’s important. It’s a pretty book and she’ll put it on show in her parlour.’ She patted Harriet’s shoulder. ‘You’re right to save your money, child.’

‘I still won’t have enough to buy new clothes. I’ve grown already since I came here, the food’s so good.’

‘I can help you there. We have quite a few things other maids have left behind, those who married well. They’re only lying around in a box upstairs. If you don’t mind second-hand clothes, I’m sure I can find things for you when you grow out of those.’

‘Really? You won’t mind?’

‘No, dear. You’re a hard worker and already I can trust you to do a job properly without me breathing down your neck. That’s worth a lot to me.’

Harriet blew her nose. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s my job to help the maids. Now, I came to find you because I have something to tell you – good news, I hope. We have a new maid starting on Monday, as you know, and I want you to hand over your present jobs to her. You can take over Mabel’s duties and she’ll do Jenny’s.’

Harriet let out a huge sigh of both relief and pleasure, because she’d hoped for this, but hadn’t dared ask. She didn’t mind at all when Mrs Stuart laughed at her. It would be lovely to have a bit of a change.

The new duties weren’t any more interesting than the old ones, but at least they took Harriet into the front part of the house more often and she had the pleasure of cleaning the beautiful rooms the family used, places she’d only popped in and out of before when helping Mabel or Jenny.

If it hadn’t been for the books, Harriet would have been unhappy in spite of people’s kindness. She couldn’t help being frustrated with the monotony of her days. And when she had her monthly day off, she had nowhere to go if it rained, but if she stayed in the house someone was sure to ask her to ‘just help for a minute’ with a job.

In the end, she began to take refuge in the old summer house. No one used it any more and it was looking distinctly shabby, its white paint faded and blistered, and there was a leak in one corner of the roof. She was surprised that the Daltons didn’t do something about it, but it wasn’t the only part of the gardens that was being neglected.

The head gardener found her there and looked at her in surprise. ‘What are you doing here, lass?’

‘I’ve nowhere to go on my day off and if I stay in the house they find me something to do, Mr Gunson.’

‘The other maids go into town and look round the shops.’

‘That costs money, and I don’t have much.’

‘I see.’ His expression softened. ‘You look cold.’

‘I am a bit.’ She was beginning to worry about what she’d do when winter brought ice and snow.

‘Well, the family don’t use this place any more, that’s for sure, an’ they’re not likely to, neither. They spend more time in London these days. Tell you what, lass. I’ve got some old horse blankets. You could wrap yourself up in those for an hour or two.’

‘Thank you so much.’

He walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

She went back to her book, finding it hard to turn the pages with her gloves on, but even harder if she left the gloves off and let the chill air stiffen her fingers.

She was grateful when Mr Gunson came back with the ragged old blankets.

Later that day, he walked past again, stopped to stare at her and once more came across to speak to her. ‘You still here?’

‘I’m all right now I have the blankets. I like to sit and read.’

‘Did you have anything to eat at midday?’

‘I … um, wasn’t hungry.’

‘Hmm.’

He came back a short time later with a wrinkled apple and a stale piece of bread. ‘It’s not much, but it’ll fill your belly.’

‘You’re very kind.’

‘You’re the same age as my daughter. I’d not like her to spend all day on her own like this.’

‘I’m not on my own. I’ve got a book.’

‘Books! It’s people you should be with at your age.’

She didn’t say it, but she was happy to be away from people. It was lovely to sit quietly like this, even in the cold weather, so she just repeated, ‘I’m fine, really I am.’

As Christmas approached, the other servants wrote to their families and spent their time making little presents. Harriet felt so left out, she asked Mrs Stuart for some leftover bits and pieces of material that the mistress’s maid was throwing away. She found a nice square piece and hemmed a handkerchief out of it for Mrs Miller. The sewing wasn’t very neat, however hard she tried, but it was the thought that counted.

To her surprise, she received a postal order for five shillings and a book from Mrs Miller in return. She walked round in a glow all day. She’d saved up some money from the weekly
shilling from her wages, and from the Christmas bonuses. It wasn’t much, just under two pounds, but it was a start.

After Christmas, life settled down.

Well, it did until the 22nd January when the Queen died. Victoria had been on the throne for as long as most people remembered.

Dalton House went into instant mourning, of course, with the family wearing black and the servants black armbands.

Harriet stared at her armband. She hadn’t had anything black to wear when her mother died, and even Winifred hadn’t worn more than a black armband for her husband, and that only for a week.

The Queen had died at Osborne on the Isle of Wight, but Mrs Stuart read out to the servants a description of her coffin being brought back to London on the royal yacht
Alberta
. It came from the master’s newspaper, which was passed to the housekeeper once he’d finished with it.

She also read out to them the details of the funeral on the 2nd February.

The mood lightened after the grand funeral and everyone expressed hopes for a happy reign for Victoria’s son. Edward the Seventh had waited long enough to get to the throne. Let him enjoy it while he could, Mr Dalton said.

It seemed that the Daltons had met him in London, which made Harriet look at them with awe for a day or two.

She had expected there to be a coronation for the new king almost immediately, but it wasn’t to take place till the following year.

The household routine fell into its usual predictable patterns of behaviour.

As spring approached, another problem rose for Harriet. She’d now read all the books in the schoolroom, a few of them more than once.

Thinking of how many books there were in the library, she plucked up her courage and went to consult Mrs Stuart, asking if there were any other books she could borrow. ‘I’ve read all my own books several times. And I’d look after the books, you know I would.’

‘I’ve never seen such a reader as you.’

‘I enjoy finding things out.’

‘I’m told you sit in the old summer house on your days off, reading away.’

She blushed. ‘I didn’t think anyone would mind. No one else uses it now.’ She waited, holding her breath. What would she do if she was forbidden to go there?

Mrs Stuart looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll ask about the books. And make sure you don’t catch your death of cold out there.’

‘Mr Gunson’s given me some old horse blankets and a piece of canvas. I’m really very snug.’

‘It’s a pity this isn’t a big enough house for us to have other maids of your age. You need friends of your own age.’

‘I’m fine as I am, Mrs Stuart, honestly I am.’

‘Well, ask Cook to make you some sandwiches next time and … I’ll ask about the books.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Harriet let out a sigh of relief. It’d make such a difference to get some new books.

When she had her morning consultation with the mistress the following day, Mrs Stuart raised the matter.

‘Well, Harriet doesn’t seem cheeky or forward, but it’s a strange request from a servant. I hope she’s not neglecting her duties.’

‘She’s a very hard worker. And Harriet isn’t at all cheeky. If anything, she’s too quiet for someone her age. She can’t afford to buy books because her stepmother takes most of her wages.’

‘Hmm. What do
you
want to do about her request?’

‘I was thinking about asking Mr Joseph to help, ma’am. He’s been rather restless lately, hasn’t he? I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but I can’t help noticing.’ She waited, head on one side. The mistress didn’t like to be hurried.

‘You’re right, Mrs Stuart. Joseph is getting rather restless. I know he’s better than he used to be, but I still worry about him overdoing things.’

Mrs Stuart didn’t mention how much walking Mr Joseph did, up and down the first-floor corridors and round the quieter parts of the garden, even in the cooler weather. He still had a crooked, awkward walk, but he seemed much quicker and stronger these days.

Not only wasn’t it her business what he did, but she didn’t
blame the poor young man. No one had discussed this, but all the servants were keeping quiet about his activities, even his manservant Pollins. They were glad to see him improving because he was never anything but polite to them.

At last Mrs Dalton said slowly, ‘What do you think Joseph can do?’

‘I wondered if he’d be interested in helping Harriet find some more reading material from the library and even, if he has time, answering any questions she raises. She’s asked me if I could explain several things she’s found in books, and I must confess, not being much of a reader, I couldn’t answer all her questions. I’m sure Mr Joseph would know the answers, though. He reads even more than Harriet does.’

‘I don’t know what the world is coming to when servants read the same books as their employers and ask questions.’

‘We’re in a new century now, ma’am, with a new king. Ways are bound to change.’

Mrs Dalton sighed. ‘I suppose so. Still … since you say she’s such a good worker, I’ll ask Joseph what he thinks. I’m not promising anything, mind, and if it tires him, of course it must stop at once.’

‘Of course. Thank you so much, ma’am. It’s always good to keep the staff happy. That way, they work harder and we don’t lose the ones we’ve trained. Mrs Miller always made a point of that, if you remember.’

Mrs Dalton shrugged and went off to consult her maid about an alteration to one of her gowns. She clearly felt enough had been said on the subject.

Mrs Stuart could only hope her mistress would remember to ask about the books.

That evening dinner was just a family gathering. Joseph wasn’t hungry but tried to eat enough to stop his mother nagging him. It had been a long rainy day and he hadn’t been able to get outside or walk about much.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ his mother asked once his father had dismissed the servants.

‘I’m fine, Mama, just a little bored today. My new box of books should have arrived.’

‘Stop fussing over the boy, Sophie!’ his father barked.

‘I’m not fussing, William. But a mother notices these things. Oh, I forgot to mention earlier, Joseph dear, that Mrs Stuart asked a favour today – or rather, she asked me if
you
might consider doing her a favour by helping out with something. But of course you must say no if it’s too much for you.’

He waited, sure it would be something and nothing.

‘That young maid, Harriet, is apparently a great reader and has finished all the books in the schoolroom, though I find that hard to believe. Mrs Stuart wondered if we had anything in the library we might allow her to read.’

‘She’ll probably just want some rubbishy novels,’ her husband said at once. ‘She won’t find anything like that in our library.’

‘If the girl really has read every book in the schoolroom, then she’s read a couple of shelves of textbooks as well,’ Joseph said, his interest piqued.

‘Well, I doubt whether a girl like that could have read so many books in just a few months. She probably skimmed through the difficult ones. But still, it’s a harmless occupation and a quiet one, so I’m inclined to humour her. Happy maids stay with you, and that makes life so much easier. Servants are getting very uppity these days.’

Joseph really liked the idea of helping Harriet, but shrugged, knowing better than to show great interest in this, or his mother would start to worry that it was too much for him. ‘I could quite easily select a few books for her. It’d only take me a few minutes. Though I’d rather do that during the daytime than wait until she’s finished her duties in the evenings. Perhaps she could be spared for a few minutes to tell me about her interests.’

His mother let out a little puff of irritation. ‘Of course she can be spared. She must come at a time that’s convenient to you. That isn’t the point. I don’t want you wearing yourself out.’

‘I’m in the library most of the time anyway during the colder weather, and as I said, it’ll only take a few minutes. I’ll speak to Mrs Stuart tomorrow.’

‘Then that’s settled.’ His father changed the subject to their next visit to London and his mother joined eagerly in the discussion about when they would move to town.

Joseph leant back and let them talk. It didn’t bother him to be the only family member in residence here. In fact, he preferred it. When his parents were away, he found life at Dalton House far more congenial.

He smiled at the thought of helping Harriet. He’d enjoy that and feel he was doing something worthwhile for a change. She seemed a very nice young woman.

He’d worked out which painting she reminded him of:
Sancta Lilias
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He had a print of it in a book about Pre-Raphaelite artists. He didn’t always like Rossetti’s faces, but this one was lovely, and very like Harriet now she didn’t look so gaunt.

That same year Norris Harding found himself a more interesting job, working in a rather special sort of club, in charge of keeping order.

‘You’ve got a job in a house of ill repute!’ his mother exclaimed, scandalised. ‘But we agreed to stay respectable.’

‘It’s a very exclusive place, and I’ll be making five times the money I do now.’

There was dead silence for a moment or two and he waited, not allowing himself to smile at her astonishment, but relishing it nonetheless.

‘Five times as much!’

‘Yes. Such places bring in a lot of money, if they’re discreetly run. The women there are a better class of whore, clean and pretty. And the customers may not be gentry, but they’re self-made men who have plenty of money.’

Her voice turned suddenly harsh. ‘I forbid it. I’m trying to
rise
in the world, not let you drag us down to the gutters and associate with … with such females.’

‘Think I don’t know your own mother was a whore?’ He used the word deliberately.

She turned pale. ‘How did you find that out?’

‘From my new friends. One of the older fellows knew her.’

‘Well, I haven’t followed her example. She saw to that, did everything she could to keep me respectable.’

‘Let’s face it, Ma, I’ll never make my fortune by working for someone else, and we don’t have the connections for me to do much else. I’m going to take this job.’

‘I could give you the money to start a shop – one in a decent area, not one with poor clientele. You could build it up and—’

‘I do not want to run a shop. I’d go mad fiddling about
with bits and pieces of paper all day and kowtowing to idiots. I’m not fond of getting up early, either, so even the hours will suit me better in this new job. Anyway, I’ve already given notice, so it’s done now.’

‘Oh, Norris! What will people think?’

‘I don’t care what people will think. I care that I’ll have a chance to make real money. For you, bettering yourself means being respectable and making money; for me, it’s making a lot of money, the more the better. Money’s what gives you power to do as you please.’

She scowled at him. ‘I’ll never be considered respectable if my son works in a place like that.’

He sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘You’ve tried, Ma. You married two respectable men, and weren’t they bores? Little dictators, telling you what to do and not to do.’

He got a smile out of her with that. ‘And you’ve lived in a respectable street for three years now. That hasn’t made you happy, either, has it?’

‘I like this house.’

‘I’ll buy you a better one in a few years.’

She reached out to pat his cheek. ‘You’re as wilful as your father was. I won’t have much choice about your new life, will I? You’ve seen to that.’

‘I want this money, Ma. And I’m going to have it.’

‘I don’t know what my friends will say. They’re bound to find out.’

‘Your friends won’t mind what I do. And maybe we’ll find you another house once I’m settled into my new job, one where the neighbours aren’t such damned snobs.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I’ll tell you a secret: the man who owns
the house of ill repute is well known in the town and he’s anxious to continue keeping his involvement quiet.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Swear never to tell anyone.’

‘Of course I won’t. Do you think I go round looking for trouble?’

‘It’s Councillor Clifford Grayson.’

She gaped at him. ‘I don’t believe you!’

Norris leant back in his chair and smiled, enjoying shocking her. ‘It’s the truth. But if you say one word about this, we’ll both have to leave town within the hour. Yes, really. Grayson’s managed to keep his other little businesses quiet for years. An upstanding gentleman, our Mr G., pillar of the church, talked about as a future mayor.’

‘Why did he tell you about it?’

‘He didn’t. I found out from a fool who was upset about something and was going to blab about it. So I shut him up and earned Mr Grayson’s gratitude.’

‘How did you do that?’

‘I knocked a bit of sense into the idiot and made sure he left town that same day. You’ll keep your mouth shut, won’t you, Ma?’

‘You’d not have told me if you didn’t know I can keep my mouth shut better than most.’

‘Yes. You’re not stupid, like most women. That’s why I came to you. I’ll need some money to buy better clothes. Got to make a good impression.’

‘Let me think about it.’

‘You’ve got plenty of money. You don’t need to think.’

‘I do. I always need to think.’

But she’d lend him what he needed, he knew that. And
he’d look after her, because she’d been a good mother to him … except in the matter of Harriet. Well, he’d learnt to keep his temper under control now, most of the time. But he’d find Harriet again one day. He’d promised himself that.

He was going up in the world, but he knew he had a lot to learn first. Harriet would keep. She was safe, still working in that big house. He’d got his mother to ask Auntie Doris about her. He’d take Harriet away from it when he was ready.

He might even marry her.

Ma would throw a fit, didn’t have a good word to say about Harriet, except that her wages made a nice little present every quarter.

Joseph rang the bell and waited until his manservant arrived with his morning cup of tea. Pollins had been with him since he grew too old to be cared for by Nurse. He’d still needed help getting around in those days, so he’d been given his own servant. Pollins was still a big, strong fellow, but Joseph refused physical help, just let Pollins do the jobs any manservant would, keeping his clothes in order, tidying up the bedroom, bringing up his hot water.

‘Good morning, Pollins. It looks fine enough for a walk or a drive, so I think I’ll wear my country clothes today.’

‘Mrs Dalton is expecting guests for luncheon, Mr Joseph.’

‘She doesn’t usually expect me to attend her luncheon parties.’

‘She’s invited Mrs Jeffcott and her daughter. And … um … your mother asked me to make sure you wear your new navy-blue suit.’

‘She’s not—’ He broke off, staring in dismay at Pollins.

‘I think she’s found a young woman who might suit you.’

Joseph groaned, remembering other luncheon parties where his brothers had been matched with young ladies. It had started as soon as each brother had finished studying or training, and found what his father called ‘a decent job’. Each brother had complained and resisted, but in the end they’d been pushed inexorably towards suitable matches.

Only Selwyn, the eldest, had chosen his own bride, but of course, she’d come complete with money and connections in the county, so she’d been very acceptable. He was living in the next county now, in the house she’d inherited. He hadn’t needed to find a profession, with the prospect of inheriting Dalton House.