Justine Elyot (8 page)

What was a body after all but flesh and blood and bone? It was nothing. To offer it to somebody was nothing. Wrongdoing came from the heart and the mind, the intention to do harm. To experience physical pleasure with another – this was surely not wrong, for who suffered from it?

She should not be feeling guilt or shame about this – she had sworn that she would not be held down by those old foes of her sex. But she couldn’t help it. It was so much easier to argue a position than to embody it. How could she have known that these interloping emotions would ruin the purity of her mission? Before she drifted into sleep her pillow was wet with tears.

When she woke up, a sensuality lingered upon her, the remnants of her dreams, which were in turn the remnants of her unsatisfied desires.

She bade her roommates good morning, but none of them replied. She was left to pin her own hair and tie her own apron, and was late for breakfast yet again.

If they’re so sure I’m going to sleep with Sir Charles, then perhaps I should, she thought fiercely, splashing her face with cold water before running downstairs. At least then I wouldn’t be in Coventry for nothing.

‘Are you cleaning the morning room?’ she asked Jenny dully as they collected their dusters and mops from the cupboard.

‘That’s yours,’ said Jenny smartly. ‘I don’t expect I’ll be wanted in there.’

‘Look, there’s nothing going on …’

But she couldn’t finish the sentence. There
was
something going on.

‘Hope not, for poor Ted’s sake,’ said Jenny, and she bustled off in the opposite direction to Edie.

‘If you’re on your own today,’ said Mrs Munn, emerging unexpectedly and making Edie jump, ‘I’ll be along at various times to keep my eye on you. You’re much slower than you should be and I’m concerned that the cleanliness of the house will suffer. Jenny says you tend to daydream. Check that, please.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Edie, only half-listening.

‘Still on for the pictures tomorrow?’ asked Ted, passing her on the way to the morning room.

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she said.

She’d have said yes to anything. Only one thing occupied her mind – would Sir Charles be in the morning room again?

He wasn’t, and she could hear the clatter of knives and forks on china from the breakfast room a little further along. Presumably he was in there. If she did this room very, very quickly …

She tried her hardest to sweep the grate and clean the surrounds with all haste, but she got ashes on her face and black lead under her fingernails, while all the metal was smeared and needed an extra rub down.

Muttering curses under her breath, she tried to improve her haphazard job, wondering if she could get away with just a lightning-quick brush of the feather duster across everything else.

But it was too late.

Sir Charles entered the room while she still kneeling on the hearth rug, clouds of soot around her.

‘Oh dear,’ he said, and, to her horror, he came to stand directly behind her, looming over her. ‘You seem to be making things worse rather than better.’

She sat back on her heels.

‘Perhaps you could do a better job,’ she said.

‘Perhaps I could,’ he said.

He crouched beside her and her heart seemed to stop beating.

‘Look at those hands,’ he said. ‘They weren’t made for this.’

He reached to take one, but sharp footsteps from the next room sent him into retreat before he could do it.

‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said Mrs Munn. ‘Good Lord, Edie, what are you about?’

Sir Charles hid behind his newspaper while the housekeeper endeavoured to put Edie back on the correct path to cleaning the fireplace.

‘I can’t do this for you every day,’ she tutted. ‘Really, were you this inept at your last place? I begin to wonder if they wrote that reference to get rid of you.’

The harsh words brought tears to Edie’s eyes.

‘Steady on,’ said Charles.

‘Sir?’ Mrs Munn stood and turned to him while Edie did not dare look.

‘Bit uncalled for,’ he said. ‘It’s only a fireplace.’

‘I daresay it is,’ she said coldly. ‘But it’s my ultimate responsibility, so you’ll excuse me if I take it seriously.’

‘Of course,’ drawled Charles, lighting a cigarette. ‘Carry on.’

Mrs Munn removed Edie from the scene for an extensive tutorial in grate-polishing. Edie supposed she ought to be thankful; Mrs Munn had repelled the danger from Sir Charles quite effectively for the time being.

‘You shouldn’t have been alone with him,’ she said in a low voice, applying polish to a rag which she passed to Edie.

‘I’ve heard about Susie Leonard, ma’am. It won’t happen to me.’

‘Really? Well, Susie was a silly girl but a very fine housemaid. Perhaps you are her polar opposite. A poor housemaid with a sensible head on her shoulders. We can’t have everything, can we?’

She cracked a rare smile, which Edie could not help returning, feeling rather privileged to be on the receiving end of it.

‘I am trying my best,’ said Edie.

‘I daresay you are, and you can’t do more than that. But this is Deverell Hall, Edie, and we have standards that must be maintained.’

‘I’ll get better, I swear.’

Mrs Munn nodded.

‘Now, I’m leaving this to you. I’ll come and see how you’ve managed it in twenty minutes’ time. I expect it to be gleaming fit to blind me by then, do you understand me?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

***

Edie was almost done with the Blue Drawing Room when Lady Mary entered in her riding habit.

‘I say, it’s the new girl, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I don’t usually chat with the maids but I hear you’re from London. Is that true?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Lady Mary threw herself into one of the chairs – one that did not seem designed for having bodies thrown into it.

‘Wish to God I was there,’ she muttered.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t concern you. I’m desperate for a trip to town but pa’s being a crashing bore about it. He has the most abominably old-fashioned ideas about everything. I keep telling him these are the 1920s but I’m sure he mishears me and thinks I’ve said the 1820s.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am.’

Lady Mary mimicked the bland phrase then kicked the leg of the chair.

‘Do you have a fellow?’ she asked.

‘Excuse me, ma’am?’

‘Oh, you know what I mean. A young man, a swain.’

‘No, no, I don’t.’

‘Then get one. And make it quick, before my brother makes love to you. He will, you know.’

Edie twirled her feather duster round in her fingers, at a loss for words.

‘If you’ll excuse me, ma’am,’ she said.

‘Oh, God, he already has.’ Mary let out a bark of laughter. ‘There’d better not be another little Deverell bastard on the way. Pa’s spleen won’t stand it.’

‘You’ve no call to make assumptions about me,’ said Edie coldly.

Mary drew herself up in her chair and stared.

‘Oh, don’t I, madam? Well, I stand corrected. But speak to me in that tone again and you needn’t expect lover boy Charlie to come to your rescue. Because he never does, you know. He doesn’t really care about anyone except himself.’

Edie nodded, sick with nerves now.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she muttered for a third time.

‘Oh, go on, then. Thought you might be fun, but you’re a mouse like the rest of them. Scurry along.’

Edie passed a wary, strung-up day listening for footsteps and peering around corners. When Sir Charles was seen getting into his motor, she was able to gain relief from her suspenseful state for an hour or two, but his return brought the butterflies back to her stomach.

Twice she crossed the path of Lady Deverell, who had nothing to say to her, but watched her intently as she passed. Of Lord Deverell she saw almost nothing, and she dreaded that he might have gone away again, and Charles would pay his stepmother another visit that night.

Enquiries in the servants’ kitchen confirmed that this was not the case, however – he had been out preparing for the following day’s shoot, that was all. To her even greater relief, Carrie had recovered from her illness and Edie was not called to serve the family at dinner that night.

Instead she sat by the kitchen fire and tried to darn a stocking, though the skill was not one that came easily to her. One of the footmen played the fiddle, and folksy tunes drifted through the servants’ quarters while the scullery maids danced.

Ted cut through the frolicking, taking one girl gallantly by the waist and swinging her around until she squealed, before dropping her and coming to sit opposite Edie.

‘Raw weather for summer, ain’t it?’ he said. ‘Autumn’s come early. This fire’s never usually lit at this time of year.’

‘At least it’s stopped raining,’ remarked Edie, biting off a length of thread.

‘How did you get on today? Any more disasters with the polish?’ Ted grinned and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

‘No, at least, I hope not. I had a run-in with Lady Mary, though.’

He leaned forwards, his cheek muscles twitching.

‘Oh? What happened?’

‘Nothing really. She just seemed to want to needle me. She was put out about some trip to London that had been cancelled. I suppose I was the nearest body to take out her frustrations on.’

‘Yeah, that’d be it,’ said Ted, settling back in his seat. ‘There were a few whispers about her behaviour last time she was up in town. Burning the candle both ends. Out and about with people His Lordship wasn’t so keen on.’

‘She’s a young woman. She’s bound to want to enjoy herself.’

‘Deverell don’t see it that way. He thinks girls should be like his aunts were, sitting around all day flapping handkerchiefs and smelling violet drops. Playing something on the piano if they felt very daring.’

‘Gosh, thank heavens for the twentieth century,’ said Edie with feeling. ‘I hope Lady Mary will benefit from it eventually.’

‘Over his dead body,’ said Ted contemplatively. ‘Those are my thoughts on the matter. That’s a shocking job you’ve done on that stocking. Give it here.’

Edie watched his big hands and long fingers at work with the needle and thread, wondering why, if a man found this kind of thing easy, she did not. Everything ended up tangled and hopeless when she put her hand to it.

‘There.’ He handed it back, beaming. ‘We’re still on for tomorrow, aren’t we?’

‘Tomorrow? Oh! Yes. I’m free from midday, I think.’

‘We’ll walk up to Kingsreach together then. Wish I could drive you but I can’t use the car for my own business. As long as the rain keeps off, it’s a nice walk.’

‘I know. I walked here from the station.’

‘Oh, yes, so you did.’ He shook his head, regarding her inquisitively. ‘You’re a curiosity, you are.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She blushed and bowed her head, always afraid that her face might give some crucial secret away.

‘I’ll work you out,’ he said, reminding her alarmingly of Sir Charles the night before. She didn’t want anybody trying to gauge her motives, let alone two men. Two attractive men.

‘I’m not some mystery story, you know.’

‘Aren’t you? I’m not so sure. Anyway, best go and tinker with me engine. Sweet dreams – dream about tomorrow.’

He ruffled her hair and disappeared, off to the garage.

Edie, tired and bored without the company of the other maids, took herself off to bed early. Tonight she could sleep. Lord Deverell was at home, so there was no need to fear for any more assaults on his wife’s virtue by his son.

There was no need to visit Charles.

No need – at least, no practical need.

But her body itched to get out of bed and put on her gown and find him. All she could think of was what he might be doing, what he might be thinking, there in his room with the paisley silk hangings and the aromas of Turkish tobacco and Russian leather and spicy cologne all twisting together and ravishing the air.

There, in his room, his dark hair on the pillow, his eyes on the ceiling, or a book, or looking out of the window or … thinking of her. Did he think of her?

Or was she no longer of interest, now she had delivered an ultimatum? Was that game over and done with?

She thought she couldn’t bear it if so. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and thought of home. Within minutes she was deep in sleep.

* * *

On Wednesdays, she didn’t have to clean the morning room. She was permitted the ineffable luxury of a lie-in and she had only light duties to perform until her half-holiday officially began at midday.

She saw the clock hand jerk to the twelve and she made a run for the back stairs, ready to change into her own clothes and meet with Ted.

Too full of the joys of limited freedom to remember to be cautious, she turned a corner and ran straight into Sir Charles. She had presumed him to be out shooting with the rest and he was wearing shooting attire – tweeds and a peaked cap and all the rest of it – but he had no gun and looked grimly purposeful.

She froze and took a step back but he was too quick for her.

‘Got you,’ he exclaimed, seizing her by the wrists. ‘Well, well, well. You’ve been avoiding me, Miss Prior.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘I waited for you in the morning room.’

‘It’s my day off. I didn’t have to clean it.’

‘Your day off? Wednesdays, eh?’

He relaxed his grip and took her in, from frilly cap to sensible work boots.

‘Is this your idea of mufti?’

‘I was on my way to get changed. You aren’t with the shoot.’

‘Well spotted. I came to fetch a spare gun for an unexpected extra guest.’ He drew closer, his head on one side. ‘So, where are you going to, my pretty little maid?’

Going a-milking, sir, she said
.

‘I told you. I’m going to change.’

‘I don’t think you should change. I like you as you are.’

‘Please, sir, I have to go. I’m meeting somebody.’

His face, slack with lust, stiffened.

‘Who? A man?’

‘A friend. Please, let me go.’ She tried to wrench herself from his hold.

‘A male friend?’

‘It is none of your business.’

He seemed to think otherwise, bringing his face right down to hers so that their foreheads bumped together, but a voice from the front door stopped them in their tracks.