by Rose Meddon
Sitting back in the chair and glancing over the page, Edith set her pen on the blotter. ‘Kate, I won’t naysay it, but such is the way of these things. Whenever you’re feeling hard done-by, just be grateful that nobody has yet worked out how to get more than four-and-twenty hours’ work out of you each day.’
‘Huh, if anyone ever does, it’ll be Naomi Russell – you can bet your last farthing on it.’
‘And another thing,’ Edith said, tucking a strand of her light-brown hair behind her ear and glancing in Kate’s direction, ‘you’d be well advised not to let Ma hear you moaning again.’
‘Again?’
Patting her cap, Edith returned her attention to her ledger. ‘Yes, again. Ever since Miss Russell picked you out to be her maid, you’ve done nothin’ but complain. We’re all of us in the same boat, you know. And Ma does so hate it when you whine.’
‘I do not whine.’
‘I beg to differ. Anyway, just don’t.’
Unfortunately for Kate, Mabel Bratton chose that very moment to reappear, her expression sharpening as she took in Kate’s presence. ‘Those new menus ready, Edith?’
‘Near-on, Ma.’
‘And you, Kate, what are you doing in here?’
Unfolding her arms, Kate straightened herself up. ‘Nothing, Ma.’
‘That much I can see with my own eyes. What I don’t understand, is why. If you’ve taken care of everything for Miss Naomi, I’ll put you to work elsewhere. We’re already stretched as thin as can be, without you skiving.’
‘I’m not skiving, I’m catching my breath.’
‘Well, don’t.’
Remembering then why she was there in the first place, Kate sighed. ‘I’ve come to fetch some thread. She’s got a loose button on one of her skirts.’
‘She?’
‘Miss Naomi.’
‘Then get yourself along to the haberdashery cabinet and find what you need. And then go back upstairs and get it sorted.’
‘Yes, Ma.’
‘And just make a proper job of it. I don’t want to hear complaints about slip-shod stitching.’
‘No, Ma.’
‘And stop bending your sister’s ear about life being unfair. It is unfair, so there’s no point wasting neither your breath nor your time bemoaning the fact.’
‘No, Ma.’
‘Very well. Now go on with you. And don’t let me see you back down here this side of staff dinner.’
‘No, Ma, I won’t.’
Well, it was plain, then, Kate reflected as she made her way along the corridor to the linen closet: she was to get no sympathy for her plight – not from her mother nor from her sister. She was stuck: doomed to spend the entire summer scurrying about after the privileged Miss Naomi Russell, the prospect of which was beginning to give her a very bad feeling indeed.
* * *
‘Cicely, darling, you made it! Come in, come in. You must be exhausted.’
Hearing commotion in the hallway, Kate edged along the landing and peered over the bannisters. Clearly, the Colbornes had arrived. Having spent the last twenty minutes helping Miss Naomi with her afternoon change, she’d quite lost track of the time – not that the arrival of another set of guests made any difference to her.
‘Thank you, my dear. Yes, travel these days is so wearying, isn’t it?’
‘Dreadfully. But a freshen-up and a nice cup of Darjeeling will soon have you feeling better. Or would you prefer Ceylon?’
Unable to hear the female guest’s reply, Kate switched her attention to the older man arriving behind her – presumably, Cicely Colborne’s husband.
‘I say, Pamela, what the deuce are you trying to do to us with that devilish pot-holed track? Eh? Jolt us to death? Damn near broke the Mercedes! And I’ve not long had her—’
Either ignoring – or else oblivious to – the man’s grievance, Pamela Russell greeted him warmly. ‘Ralph! How lovely it is to see you.’
‘—went for the limousine coachwork this time,’ he continued, while at the same time submitting to an embrace. ‘Pleased Cicely no end, no need for her to wear a dustcoat, what? She never did take to the landaulet, fine motor though she was.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Must say, you’re looking lovely, m’dear. Scarcely a moment older than the day we saw you wed that opportunist feller of yours. Haw haw haw.’
‘How kind of you to say so, Ralph. And yes, that last stretch of road is frightful, isn’t it? Still, you’re here now. Did you drive yourself?’
‘Drove the first stint out of Wiltshire, then the boys took it in turns. Trouble is, they only know one speed – flat-out, especially Aubrey. Lead-footed, the pair of them. Kept reminding them it’s thruppence a gallon for motor spirit, you know. But do they care?’
‘Aubrey! Lawrence!’ Pamela Russell moved quickly on. ‘Tell me you’re not both still growing taller.’
Kate craned further over the bannister. All she could see, though, were the tops of heads. Or, more accurately, a squat and rather plain navy hat, a man’s pink scalp showing through thinning grey strands, and two almost identical heads of dark, oiled hair.
‘Aunt Pamela.’
‘Aubrey, dear. Handsome as always.’
‘Aunt Pamela.’
‘Lawrence, what a fine man you’ve grown into. But please, both of you, do stop calling me Aunt. It was one thing when you were children but now you just make me sound so terribly old!’
When Kate realized that the next voice was her mother’s – there following a discussion about luggage and the possibility of young men to see to it – she decided it was time to retreat back along the landing. Arriving at Miss Naomi’s room, she tapped on the door, but when, thinking Miss Naomi downstairs, she opened it without first awaiting an answer, she was surprised to see her seated at the dressing-table.
‘Oh, begging your pardon, miss,’ she hastened to apologize. ‘I thought… you were downstairs. I’m just returning your shoes after cleaning them.’
‘Do you think this dress needs a necklace at the throat?’
Caught off-guard, and in any event still unused to being addressed quite so directly, Kate hesitated. But then, after crossing the room to place the shoes on the shelf in the bottom of the wardrobe, she turned her attention to the neckline of Naomi Russell’s dress. ‘Um…’
‘As you correctly surmised, I did go downstairs. But I caught sight of myself in that mirror in the hall. I look… unfinished.’
Unable to offer a meaningful opinion, Kate frowned. If there was one thing she had learned over the last couple of days, it was that, no matter the subject, mild agreement usually did no harm. ‘Perhaps a little unfinished, yes, miss.’
‘Then I’ll wear my cross and chain. The small plain one. See if you can find it in my jewellery-box, will you?’
On the dressing table – a matter of just three or four inches from Naomi’s left hand, Kate noted resentfully – was a large box covered in a striking skin. ‘In here, miss?’
‘Yes. And do chivvy along. The Colbornes will be here any minute and Mamma will be cross if I’m not there with her to welcome them.’
Despite Naomi Russell’s instruction, Kate hesitated. Should she mention that the Colbornes had already arrived? No, it might be safer to affect ignorance, especially given that she shouldn’t have been spying on them in the first place. Instead, reaching to the jewellery-box, she turned the tiny key in the lock and, when she felt it click, raised back the lid. Inside, the lining was a luxurious cream-coloured velvet, the hinges of highly polished brass. Moving to lift aside what she thought was one of two trays sitting immediately beneath the lid, she discovered that in fact, the box had three tiers, the top two of which pulled aside on little brass arms to reveal the contents underneath. With jewels of all colours sparkling, and gold and silver glistening, Kate gave a little gasp. She’d never seen anything like it – neither the box nor its contents. ‘Heavens,’ she murmured.
‘Beautiful, is, isn’t it? It’s crocodil
e skin. Mamma gave it to me when I turned twenty-one last month.’ Twenty-one: she and Miss Naomi were the same age. Not that a casual observer would ever guess, Naomi Russell’s elegance making her seem far womanlier – far more finished. Indeed, comparison served only to draw attention to the gracelessness of her own ways – to the gawky servant-girl she truly was. ‘Inside, there was a diamond tiara from Papa, but of course, I left that safely at home.’
‘Of course, miss.’ A tiara. With diamonds in it. For a birthday present. Whatever next?
‘For his birthday, Ned had a diamond signet-ring and a gold wristwatch. He brought the wristwatch with him. In fact, since he got it, I think he’s barely taken it off.’
Kate smiled, her eyes scanning the glittering mass of jewellery for the shape of a cross. ‘Which of you is the elder, miss?’
‘I am. By about half an hour.’
She blinked rapidly. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you’re twins?’
‘We are. I thought you knew. First set in the family, apparently.’
Astonished, she continued to stare into the box, eventually spotting a tiny gold cross on a chain. Carefully, she lifted it out. ‘Would this be the one, miss?’
Turning her attention from her reflection in the mirror to Kate’s palm, Naomi Russell nodded. ‘That’s the one. Put it about my neck for me and then I really must get back downstairs.’
Closing the tiny fastener, Kate stood back. No wonder it had been hard to tell which of Miss Naomi and Mr Edwin was the elder: they were the same age. She must try to get a better look at Ned, as Miss Naomi called him, to see just how similar – or different – they were.
With Naomi Russell leaving to go downstairs, Kate’s eyes once again fell on the jewellery-box. A narrow slit in the cushioning along the top tier held a couple of rings: one, a tiny engraved band; the other a pale stone in a simple setting. Both looked quite old-fashioned and not the sort of thing she imagined Miss Naomi would have chosen for herself. Perhaps they had been a gift. Or, maybe, they had been passed down to her. In another section were earrings, some plain, some set with stones whose facets reflected the light. In the tier beneath were bracelets: one, a chain adorned with charms, another set with tiny pearls, and a couple that were heavily engraved silver bangles. Carefully, she lifted out the one with the inscription inside. Rotating it against the light, she read: Min, with love from Ned. Min? Presumably it was his pet-name for her. Was it nice to have a brother, she wondered? The bangle told her that perhaps, sometimes, it was. Was it nice to have a twin? Having never known any twins, it was hard to say. Was it any different from having any other sibling? Possibly – not that she was in a position to judge. With her own sister being so much older, she’d often felt as though she was an only child. At times, she’d felt jealous when the children at school talked of games they played at home; games weren’t something you played with a sister who was sixteen years your senior. She often wished she’d known her father, too. Just this last birthday, she’d remarked to Edie that she wished she remembered something about him, to which Edie had replied – somewhat tersely, even by her standards – that the past was best left in the past. It hadn’t been the response she’d been expecting, especially since Ma always maintained that he had been a good and kind man: my lovely Thomas, she called him.
Realizing that she still had hold of the bangle, she carefully laid it back where she had found it. Funny things, families.
Staring down at the jewellery box, she sighed. In the very bottom, she could see a leather pouch with gold lettering that read Chatteris & Co. Reaching in to run her fingers over the surface of it, she fancied she could feel the raised shapes of something within – pearls, maybe? She flushed hot. She shouldn’t be doing this; it was unforgiveable. Quickly, she eased the hinged tiers back into place, lowered the lid and turned the key. Then she glanced about the room. Thankfully, she had tidied up earlier, in which case, she might go and see what she could learn about the new arrivals. She’d heard from one of the day girls that the room adjacent to Mrs Russell’s had been prepared, along with the ‘bachelor twin’ on the opposite landing.
Turning the door handle, she peered out. From one of the rooms along the corridor she could hear a conversation going on: Mrs Russell’s voice, clipped and precise, followed by the softer tones of an older female. Checking back to the left, she crept towards it.
‘Quite a worry, isn’t it?’ she heard Pamela Russell saying. From the sound of it, she was in her sitting room.
‘I am afraid, my dear, that with each year that passes, the circle grows ever smaller. Not so very long ago, one could be confident of the season throwing up a suitable match – one barely had to intervene. Nowadays, there are as many daughters of new money as old. Don’t misunderstand me, Pamela, some of them aren’t too far wide of the mark, what they lack in breeding made up for by a certain eagerness to fit in, or do it right. But I do miss the days when one didn’t have to worry that one’s offspring might marry out.’
‘Indeed,’ Kate heard Pamela Russell agree. ‘As I said to Mamma last time I saw her—’
‘And how is Alice? Quite well, I hope?’
‘Frail in body but perfectly sound of mind. Definitely not losing her hearing.’
‘I said to Ralph only the other day, we should go up to town and pay a visit.’
‘I’m sure she’d love to see you. I’ll ask her to write.’
‘Lovely.’
‘Anyway, as I said to her quite recently, Naomi’s line might only be old family on my side, but she more than makes up for it with her generous trust. Between you and me, Cicely, I’ve had to fend off more than one fortune-hunter since she’s become of age.’
‘She’s not yet spoken for, then? I said to Ralph on the way down that I didn’t think she was.’
Without warning, beneath Kate’s weight a floorboard creaked. Brought sharply to her senses, she straightened herself up. Once again, she was doing something she shouldn’t. And so, pivoting on one foot, she turned about and, holding her breath, crept quickly towards the back stairs. She really had to stop taking chances; it wasn’t as though she possessed nine lives. And while, in some ways, it would be a blessing to be removed from waiting upon the tedious Naomi Russell, she could do without the fuss and recriminations that would surely follow. The Colbornes might sound interesting but they weren’t worth getting into a scrape over. And anyway, with the whole summer stretching wearisomely ahead of her, there would be plenty of chances yet to learn all about them. At least that was one entertainment available to her: piecing together what she could about the family’s various guests, especially since it seemed that if Mrs Russell and Mrs Colborne had anything to do with it, for Miss Naomi Russell, matchmaking and romance were on the cards.
* * *
‘Such a desperate fuss, isn’t it?’
Fastening the button at the waist of Miss Naomi’s skirt, Kate nodded her agreement. ‘Yes, miss.’
‘I fully understand that standards have to be upheld, especially where the entertaining of guests is concerned, but the Colbornes are hardly nobility.’
‘No, miss.’
‘They might have a sprawling country estate but, according to Papa, it’s centuries since they were anything of note.’
Running her eyes down the back of Miss Naomi’s outfit, Kate bent to tweak a section of the hem into place and then, taking a step backwards, watched as Naomi examined her reflection in the cheval mirror. ‘Yes, miss.’
‘So, I ask you, what’s wrong with donning a gown before luncheon – especially in this weather?’
Aware that Miss Naomi could see her in the mirror, Kate responded with the smallest of shrugs. ‘I don’t know, miss.’ And she didn’t, either. The constant round of changing outfits had her baffled – and more than a little exasperated. As far as she could see, the many changes of attire in the course of a single day were designed solely to make more work for the unfortunate lady’s maid.
‘Neither do I, Kate. But yesterday,
Mamma was most disapproving of my frock.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘You know, apparently, we’re related.’
To this, Kate frowned; who was related? In the few seconds she’d allowed her thoughts to wander, she’d completely lost track of Miss Naomi’s train of thought. ‘Beg your pardon, miss?’
‘Mamma’s family is a branch of the Colbornes. Don’t ask me how. She did explain it to me once – possibly that day we came across them at a gala. What I do remember, is coming quite literally face to face with their two boys and how, when one of them pinched my arm and I squealed in pain, I was the one to suffer a reprimand, while they went unpunished.’
With a smile, Kate shook her head. ‘That’s boys for you, miss. They get away with far more than a girl ever could.’
When Naomi Russell turned to regard her, Kate blushed. Clearly, it was too late now to remember to curb her tongue. According to her mother, speaking plainly – or, to her own way of looking at it, simply saying things as she saw them – would one day be the death of her. And yet, apparently, so would lying. No wonder she struggled to find a middle-ground. Well, if her impertinence had just landed her in trouble, there was nothing she could do about it now. With a bit of luck, Naomi Russell would be deeply offended and change her mind about her suitability as a lady’s maid.
‘I couldn’t agree with you more.’
Slowly, Kate raised her eyes. Was she not to get a dressing-down? ‘Miss?’
‘You’re right, Kate – boys get away with murder. A single peep from a girl and it’s unseemly. Two boys getting into fisticuffs, however, well, that’s just high spirits.’
