The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Rose Meddon

  ‘Mmm,’ she agreed, trying to digest what he was saying. No wonder he appeared to lack purpose. And so much for privilege. That aside, she rather warmed to his uncertainty; it helped her to know that he was fallible – just like her.

  ‘People often describe my father as larger than life itself,’ he went on. ‘And they’re not wrong. And, while I know one shouldn’t let fear hold one back, where Father is concerned, I’m rather ashamed to admit that I do.’

  ‘I think to be a-feared of something like that is perfectly normal,’ she said, remembering Aunt Diana’s words but having, anyway, always believed it to be the case.

  This time when she glanced to his face, he caught her look and held it. If only he would reach for her hand again… or better still, decide to kiss her.

  Instead, taking her by surprise, he slid from the rock, landing with a dull thud on the sand and then brushing at the seat of his trousers before bending low and rolling them right up to his knees.

  ‘Quick paddle before breakfast, I think.’ Wide-eyed, she watched as he jogged towards the water before she, too, slid from the rock and followed in the line of his footprints. But, while he ran, without apparent care, straight into the waves, she held back. ‘Not coming in?’ he called, laughing, and squinting to where the waves were just breaking over her toes.

  ‘In my uniform?’ she shouted back to him, hurriedly raising the hem of her skirt above her ankles as her feet started to sink down into the wet sand.

  He laughed loudly. ‘Poor you. Rotten luck!’

  ‘And what about your trousers?’ Grasping her skirt with one hand, she gestured with her other. ‘They’re getting wet.’

  Raising his arms in a gesture of helplessness, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m sure they’ll dry quick enough.’

  ‘Not if I do this,’ she called, dipping her fingers into the water and scooping a handful of it in his direction. When it splashed just a few inches short of where he was standing, she laughed and did it again.

  ‘No, you’re right,’ he called back, ‘now I shall have to change. And some poor laundrymaid will curse my thoughtlessness as she stands at a sink somewhere, trying to wash the salt from them.’

  ‘You were the one who went running in,’ she shouted to him, watching as he raised himself above the curling of a slightly higher wave. ‘So, what did you think was going to happen?’

  ‘I gave it not a moment’s thought!’

  With a sense of what he was about to do next, she gathered her skirts higher still, turned quickly about and, with the sound of water splashing behind her, ran back up the sands.

  Once clear of the water’s edge, she turned back. ‘You devil!’

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ he called. ‘You were the one who started it!’ When he then staggered, in exaggerated fashion, out of the waves and up the beach, the effect on her breathing became difficult to conceal, her chest rising and falling far too rapidly to go unnoticed. If he did notice, he passed no comment. ‘And you can honestly say you won’t miss this?’ he asked instead, bending to examine his spattered trousers. Although he couldn’t know it, of course, he was missing the point. Ordinarily at this time of day, she wouldn’t be on the beach in the first place. And, without him to take her breath away, she certainly wouldn’t be enjoying it as much. ‘London doesn’t have beaches, you know.’

  No, she thought, but it has you. And between you and this beach, there’s no comparison. ‘I know,’ she said lightly. ‘But happen there will be other ways to spend my time.’

  ‘Happen there will, as you say down here.’

  ‘‘Appen,’ she corrected him. ‘If you’re going to use our words, you should at least learn how to say them proper. Elsewise, you risk making yourself a laughing stock.’

  ‘‘Appen I’ll learn myself praa-purr then.’

  At his daftness, she shook her head. ‘Now you just sound like the village idiot.’

  When he made to start back up the beach, with a sigh, she reluctantly followed suit.

  ‘Seriously, though, I didn’t properly splash you, did I?’

  She glanced down at her skirt. There were two dark splotches, neither of them his doing. ‘Not proper, no. Not so much as to draw attention.’

  ‘Good. Only, I shouldn’t care to land you in trouble.’ Despite the warmth of the sun on her arms, she shivered. ‘I say, are you all right?’

  She held off saying she felt as though someone had just walked over her grave. Instead, preferring that he didn’t think her fanciful, she nodded, uncertain anyway why the words land you in trouble should feel so ominous. ‘I’m just fine, thank you.’

  ‘Well, I must away to take breakfast,’ he said as they headed further back up the beach.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she replied, disappointed by the casual manner in which he seemed able to take his leave – no suggestion or arrangement that they should meet again.

  ‘Though, ’appen I’ll see you down here again.’

  She brightened. ‘Aye, ’appen you will.’ At least, happen you will if I’ve got anything to do with it, she thought as she let him go on ahead of her up through the boulders to disappear out of sight into the trees. Although you can be certain that when you do, happenstance will have had absolutely nothing to do with it at all.

  * * *

  A little while later, making her own way slowly back through the copse towards the house, Kate could barely believe what a morning it had been, especially since, judging by the height of the sun, it still wasn’t even nine o’clock. After her reprimanding by Ma, the last thing she had been expecting was to have her prayers answered, and end up alone with Ned. It would have seemed so unlikely.

  Even before his arrival on the beach, she had begun to feel more certain of herself – more encouraged and purposeful. Aunt Diana had agreed with her that a person should be free to marry whomsoever they chose. And, last night, Sybil had said that to see her future, all she had to do was look inside herself. Taken separately, those two pieces of advice had meant nothing to her. But now, piecing them together, it felt as though a mist had lifted. Her future had been revealed: no matter who decried it, her dream was hanging there for the grasping.

  Swiping a hand at the stiff and crispy fronds of bracken as she moved between them, she picked her way on up the slope, her thoughts about the precarious nature of dreams for some reason bringing her to think of Miss Naomi. Aunt Diana’s advice had been to trust her instincts. So, shouldn’t Miss Naomi do the same – even if it did mean going against what was expected of her? Either Aunt Diana’s advice was sound or it wasn’t. And, if it was, then surely it had to apply to everyone equally: Miss Naomi included. If she wanted to be with Mr Lawrence, she should let no one stand in her way.

  In the cover of the woodland, she came to a halt. Perhaps she should try to find a way to talk to Miss Naomi and urge her to be true to her heart. Perhaps, given the similarity of their situations, they could find a way to offer each other encouragement and help – if not as a lady and her maid, then as two sisters might. Of course, she harboured no illusions: even should Miss Naomi agree with her, it wouldn’t be easy; pursuing their choices of husband would bring considerable opposition. But surely, by going about it together, they would be better placed to overcome the obstacles in their paths.

  Glancing up ahead through the trees, she started walking again. What she had to do now, it seemed, was find a way to get to talk to Miss Naomi and convince her that they should join forces. Given that they were forbidden to see each other, even doing that wasn’t going to be straightforward. But, in her new mood of determination, she would find a way. In the meantime, where her own plan for Ned was concerned, she would grab any and all opportunities to get to know him better and, almost more importantly, give him every chance to get to know her. After all, if he grew to like her as much as she liked him, then surely most of her battle was already won.

  Where her path made its way up through a narrow gulley in the rocks, she paused, as she always did, to run
her hand over its coat of soft emerald mosses. Pamela Russell and her false accusations be damned. And Cicely Colborne and her part in it, too. She knew now that Ned liked her. And, after everything she had been through in the last 12 or so hours, she felt stronger and more determined than ever. Never mind all those narrow-minded people and what they thought: if she and Ned liked each other enough, then it would take something on an unimaginable scale to tear them apart.

  Chapter Seven

  Secrets…

  ‘Pamela, my dear. Terribly sorry you had to arrive on your own like that. I trust you settled in well enough?’

  ‘Sidney, darling.’ Mwah, mwah. ‘Of course we did. It’s all been perfectly lovely. Such a charming little house.’

  ‘Hardly a match for Biarritz and your favourite Hôtel du Palais.’

  ‘But wonderful fun, nevertheless.’

  ‘Good-oh. Well, feel free to stay as long you’d like. Take it from me, this is quite the best place to be at the moment. Whitehall and the city are beset with panic. No, don’t look at me like that, you’d be surprised at how quickly things in town have ground to a halt. Old Hugh’s in his element, of course. Opportunities left, right and centre, or so he’s been telling me on the way down. Isn’t that right, Hugh?’

  ‘Hello, Pam, love.’

  ‘Don’t you Pam, love, me, Hugh Russell – deserting me like that.’

  Eavesdropping upon the arrival of Sidney Latimer and Hugh Russell, Kate couldn’t help but smile. She had thought that with her husband coming to stay, Pamela Russell’s mood might improve. Unfortunately, from the tone of her greeting, she seemed as displeased as ever.

  She had also been hoping to see what Hugh Russell looked like – to try and spot any resemblance to Ned – but when, far earlier than expected, the station cab had drawn up alongside the porch, unable to think of a reason for why she should be standing in the hallway, she’d plunged into the cloakroom. And now she was stuck in there, unable to see anything of him at all. Even opening the door just wide enough to look out was taking a chance; she still hadn’t been forgiven for her supposed part in what everyone – both above and below stairs – kept referring to as ‘the other evening’s little upset’. Goodness, how cross everyone had been with her, the censure from her own sister particularly galling. Sisters were supposed to support one another. But hers never had. Hers had only ever been a buttoned-up and disapproving old spinster. Well, as Ned had so shrewdly observed only the other night, you got the life you deserved. And, where Edith was concerned, it couldn’t be more true.

  Turning her thoughts back to the arrival of Hugh Russell, Kate pressed her ear to the door and strained to hear what was being said on the other side. Luggage. Rooms. Luggage again. Dinner. She was unlikely to learn much from any of that.

  Disappointed, she risked easing the door open just a little.

  ‘Five or six nights only, I’m afraid,’ she heard one of the men saying, his voice frustratingly indistinct. ‘Then it’s off to the Highlands for the grouse. Never missed a glorious twelfth yet and don’t intend to start now – threat of war or no.’ With that, their voices started to grow even more difficult to hear – presumably as they headed upstairs – the last thing she was able to make out being, ‘By the way, do you know the Rattray-Smyths? No? It just so happens they’ve decamped from town to their cottage on Exmoor for a couple of weeks. Said they might pop down for a day or two. Hope you don’t mind.’

  When it finally sounded as though the little group had left, Kate exhaled with relief: it was safe to leave the cloakroom. It was annoying to have been in such close proximity to Hugh Russell without actually being able to see his face; she’d been hoping to discover that he looked to be easy-going. Or, better still, to discover that he looked like a man to be charmed by a pretty face, since, if her plan for Ned was to succeed, she was going to need to win over at least one of the Russell parents. And after ‘the other night’s little upset’, that parent was unlikely to be Mrs Russell. Very unlikely indeed.

  * * *

  ‘She must have ruddy great feet. That’s all I can say.’

  Unable to miss the squeals of laughter coming from beyond the partly-open door to the boot room, Kate peered in. Beyond it were Dulcie and Aggie, two of the day girls, the former doubled over with laughter, the latter parading up and down in a pair of patent-leather ankle-boots.

  Stepping quickly inside, Kate pressed the door shut behind her. ‘Whatever are you doing?’ she demanded of them in a fierce whisper, at the same time taking in the tears running down Dulcie’s cheeks and the straightening of Aggie’s face.

  ‘Sorry, Kate,’ Aggie replied, pulling her feet one-by-one from the boots and then lifting them back onto the bench. ‘We didn’t mean no disrespect by it.’

  In despair of their behaviour, Kate shook her head. ‘Whose are they?’ she asked, nodding towards the bench and determining from their considerable size that at least they didn’t belong to Miss Naomi.

  In unison, the two girls shrugged. ‘Someone too short-sighted to see a pile of sheep-dung under her nose,’ Aggie replied, and to which her partner-in-crime snorted with laughter.

  ‘Give them here,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘If you’re fool enough to lark about, you ought at least see to it that the door’s closed. What if it hadn’t been me coming along there but my ma?’ Accepting the pair of ankle-boots, she shook her head. They did at least look clean, if a little lacklustre. ‘What did you clean them with?’

  ‘A damp cloth, once I’d scraped off the sh— muck.’

  ‘Hmm. Not a complete waste of time. But, if I was you, I’d soak a corner of your cloth in some milk, wipe it thinly all over, and then buff them up. It’s just the thing to restore the shine to scuffed patent.’

  Looking relieved, Aggie nodded. ‘Thanks, Kate, I’ll do that now.’

  Then, glancing over the bench and turning to Dulcie, she said, ‘At risk of sounding like my mother, what is it you’re supposed to be doing?’

  The young girl motioned behind her. ‘Getting the claret stains from those two silver salvers. I was just waiting for the paste to dry before I scrape it off and give them a good buff up.’

  Kate glanced to where the girl had indicated. ‘I thought I could smell hartshorn. Well, just make sure an’ get it all out of the engravings afterwards. Mrs Russell won’t hesitate to complain about shoddy work if she comes across it. And Ma’s already in a bit of a fret. So, trust me when I say that you don’t need to cause her any more grief.’

  ‘I’ll make good an’ sure, Kate. Thanks ever so.’

  ‘By way of a return favour,’ Aggie began, glancing beyond Kate to the door and then lowering her voice, ‘you might want to watch out for Mrs Russell’s ‘usband.’

  Kate frowned. ‘Watch out for him?’

  ‘Leery sort. Wouldn’t want to get myself caught alone with ‘im anywhere. Looked me up and down as though wondering whether I’d do the business with him, if you’ll pardon me saying so.’

  Feeling her eyes widen, Kate nevertheless nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure an’ give him a wide berth. But just try an’ stay out of trouble, the pair of you. For all of our sakes.’

  When she left the room and went back along the corridor, it was with a frown; was she to deduce that Mr Russell was something of a lecher? While neither of those two girls could be relied upon to tell the truth to save their own skins, it would certainly explain a good deal of Mrs Russell’s constant weariness. But, if they were right, then as she’d found herself reflecting barely an hour or so earlier, she might be able to make it work to her advantage: moving forward with her plan requiring any and every ounce of deviousness she could muster.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, there you are, love. I need you to take up the flowers for the drawing room.’

  Inwardly, Kate groaned. This was only her second day of being back at her mother’s beck and call but already, her daily routine was proving tedious beyond belief. In fact, she was only now comin
g to realize just how much freedom the job of lady’s maid had permitted her. She could have another go at pleading to be allowed to resume the position but, in all likelihood, it would be a waste of her breath. Even if she could somehow overcome Ma’s objections, she sensed that she would be unlikely to convince Mrs Russell to reconsider. No, unfortunately, where finding out more about Ned was concerned, her days of being privy to snippets of information from his sister were well and truly over. As was her freedom to come and go as she pleased.

  ‘Flowers for the drawing room. Yes, Ma.’

  ‘One of the day girls hasn’t turned up this morning and Mrs Channer’s legs were giving her so much pain I’ve had to send her back home. She’d already finished making up the vases, so I just need you to take them upstairs. Edie’s about to go and see Mrs Russell with the menus so, if you wait a moment, she can help you carry them up.’

  Dutifully, Kate went through to the boot room. This, then, was what she had been reduced to: fetching and carrying. Still, it was better than cleaning the range for Edith. Thank goodness for Ned writing that letter to his cousin, she thought, watching her sister come trudging along the corridor towards her.

  ‘You seen Luke lately?’ Edith asked, tucking her day book under her arm and reaching for two of the towering arrangements of antirrhinums.

  Lifting the remaining two vases, Kate sighed. What was the matter with her sister to keep on like this? Had she nothing else to fret over? ‘Couple of days back,’ she replied shortly. ‘Though what it’s got to do with you, I can’t fathom.’

  ‘And what I can’t fathom,’ Edith hissed once they had crossed the hallway and arrived in the drawing room, ‘is what your game is. What I do know, is that you’d be better-served spending more of your time with him and less of it simpering at this lot upstairs.’ Simpering? Such was Kate’s outrage that, momentarily, she couldn’t even speak. How dare her sister bandy such accusations! She did not simper. ‘I mean it, Kate. Trust me, Luke Channer is worth ten of these flighty young sorts up here, with their fancy clothes and their oiled hair. Fraternizing with this lot will bring you nothing but trouble. Devote your attentions to Luke – start showing him the respect he deserves.’