The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Rose Meddon

  After a further couple of minutes, during which time still nothing happened, Kate had no choice but to go back to fetch the final vase. When, eventually, she returned with it, it was to see Sidney Latimer and the back of what she imagined to be Hugh Russell, deep in discussion alongside the luggage. When neither looked in her direction, she went straight to the side table, put down the vase and blew out a long stream of breath. Thank goodness: it was those two who were leaving! See, she told herself, already breathing more easily: she had been right – there had been no need to panic.

  Careful to remain turned towards her flower arrangement, she swivelled her eyes towards Mr Russell, this being her first chance to study his appearance. From the look of his waistband, he was fond of his food. Fond of his drink, too. Although, to be fair, the redness of his nose might more properly be down to an hour or two spent in the recent sunshine. Although distant from him by several yards, she could still make out that his eyes looked crinkly and might, under other circumstances, flash with mischief. In that regard, they reminded her of Ned’s. Father and son shared a similar light-brown hair colour, too. There, though, the similarities appeared to end. Mr Russell’s nose was stubbier and his mouth flatter than his children’s, both of whom shared the shape of their features with their mother. All told, especially standing as he was with his hands in pockets, Hugh Russell looked like a man who didn’t hold with too much ceremony – another trait he had passed to his son. Not altogether off-putting – as old men went – he indeed looked like a man for whom a come-hither look from a young woman might prove irresistible. Yes, when the time came to win him over, she would play to what was almost certainly his weakness. At that very moment, though, her most pleasing discovery was that it was him, and not Ned, who was leaving.

  At the sound of wheels approaching over the gravel, she switched her attention from Mr Russell to the open front door, beyond which she could see the out-porter’s van pulling up. Soon, they would be gone. Then, perhaps, things would return to normal.

  Turning back to her flower arrangement, she caught sight of the long case clock: not long until it was time to meet Ned. With war having now been declared, she no longer felt the same need to understand the news from London, but there was no need for him to know that. He might not have made any proper overtures towards her – yet – but they were certainly getting along nicely together. They seemed to understand one another. And from that she drew comfort because, from a footing of respect and shared views, love and romance could be encouraged to follow.

  With the departing guests of no further interest to her, she headed back to the boot room, where, while gathering up the debris from her flower-arranging, she hummed a tune. She could relax. She was about to see Ned.

  Out in the yard, she cast the waste onto the heap, wiped her hands down her apron and went quickly out through the gate. Arriving in the stable yard, she made a quick check for signs that anyone else was about before slipping in through the door and going to lean against the centre-most stall, where she stood composing herself for his arrival. And then she waited: she twiddled with her hair; she straightened her apron; she sang softly. She heard the clock chime the half hour. She began to grow worried. Her stomach tightened and a bitter taste rose in her throat. He had forgotten their arrangement.

  With a quick look in either direction, she started back the way she had come, except that, when she reached the yard, she continued along the side of the house to the front corner, where she peered around. In place of the out-porter’s van stood the station cab. She tried to think. Even just a glimpse of Ned – perhaps seeing his father off – would reassure her that, in the upheaval, he had simply forgotten their arrangement to meet. Although a disappointing thing to discover, it would be by far and away preferable to the other possibility beginning to gnaw away at her.

  As she stood trying to decide upon her best course of action, her eye was caught by movement further along the drive: the postman was coming, the scarlet piping on his navy uniform standing out in the bright light. Watching his progress towards the house, she saw him remove from his bag a single envelope. Ned’s cousin must have written back. Now she had to find him because, in that little envelope, could be news of her way out of Woodicombe! Think, she urged her woolly head as she shrank back out of sight: where would he be? The trouble was, she hadn’t the least idea. But then it occurred to her: Miss Naomi might know. Although warned by Ma to stay away from her, she would go anyway, the risk on this occasion worth taking.

  Galvanized by a sensation that felt worryingly like doom, she turned and ran to the back door. Once inside, she took both flights of stairs two at a time, pausing on the landing for just long enough to straighten her pinafore. Easing open the door, she looked along the corridor. Thankfully, all was quiet and so, drawing a long breath, she stole towards Miss Naomi’s door where, before she could lose her nerve, she tapped lightly.

  ‘Come in.’

  Opening the door just a fraction, she slipped into the room. ‘Sorry to trouble you, Miss Naomi—’

  Setting her magazine down on the window seat, Naomi Russell got to her feet, her face brightening. ‘Kate! How lovely to see you. But what are you doing here? I thought you’d been dismissed from my service.’

  Deciding to remain close to the door, Kate smiled warmly back. ‘I have. I shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. When I heard what had happened, I was livid. I just hoped you knew it wasn’t my doing.’

  ‘I didn’t think it for one moment, miss.’

  ‘The whole thing got rather out of hand, I’m afraid. I wanted to try and find you to explain but, do you know, since the events of that evening, Mamma has seen to it that I’m hardly ever left by myself. Honestly, you’d think I’d been caught in flagrante with the groom rather than having been set upon by a drunken Aubrey. She still doesn’t believe my version of events, you know. She still thinks I did something to pit Lawrence and Aubrey against one another. And, all the while it plays to his advantage, Aubrey doesn’t seem about to disabuse her.’

  ‘Mrs Russell is still intent on forcing him upon you, then?’ Kate said, her thoughts momentarily distracted from her own plight by that of Miss Naomi.

  ‘To my deep regret, yes. I’ve told her, repeatedly, that she’s wasting her time. I’ve said again and again that I shan’t marry him. I can only think she hopes to wear me down. You know, the other day, I overheard Aunt Cicely talking to Uncle Ralph. “Ralph,” she said to him – obviously not knowing I was there – “I’d quite forgotten how vulgar Hugh Russell is, with his talk of business deals and just how much they’re worth.” To which Uncle Ralph replied, “And yet, my dear, that very same something-or-other is the reason we’re here.” And then they moved off, and I was unable to hear the rest.’

  ‘Money,’ Kate said. ‘They’re after you because you have money.’

  To Kate’s reply, Naomi Russell’s expression changed to one of puzzlement. ‘My money? My little trust? Or did you mean Papa’s money? Not that either makes any sense. The Colbornes’ wealth is far greater than Papa’s will ever be. For a start, they own Avingham Park. Heavens, not so very far back, they owned the whole of Avingham Ducis. They’re old money, like Mamma’s family.’

  ‘Then happen I’m wrong,’ Kate remarked, remembering then why she was there. Somehow, though, she couldn’t summon the courage to ask what she wanted to know. And so, aiming to build up to asking, she said, ‘Is it right that Mr Russell’s leaving us?’

  Naomi nodded. ‘It is. And what a fuss that caused when he told us last night. Mamma accused him of using this declaration of war as an excuse to return to London. She was utterly beside herself with rage – still is this morning, by all accounts. Barely five minutes ago, Aunt Diana came in to suggest I steer clear of Mamma for a while. Apparently,’ she went on, lowering her voice, ‘she and Papa were shouting at one another for all they’re worth. I can only imagine poor Papa was trying to explain that for him to remain down here any lon
ger would be costly for the business, which, trust me, would only make Mamma even more incensed.’

  Listening patiently, Kate nodded. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Quite. It’s why I’m doing as Aunt Diana suggested and lying low for a while. Anyway, I don’t imagine that’s what brought you to my door.’

  ‘No, miss,’ she said, unable to put off asking any longer. ‘I came to ask if you know where Ned is.’

  ‘Ned? I should imagine he’s in his room, seeing to last-minute packing.’

  Last-minute packing? Had she just heard Miss Naomi correctly? Feeling as though all of her breath had been squeezed from her chest, she tried to get her mouth to work. ‘You mean… he’s leaving?’

  ‘Him, Papa and Uncle Sidney. They’re all travelling back together. Why are you looking for him?’

  Ned was leaving. Today. He was leaving today! Struggling to grasp the fact, she had no idea how to respond, feeling as though she had become engulfed in a thick and woolly fog that was preventing her from thinking straight.

  ‘Umm…’

  ‘Kate, is everything all right?’

  ‘There’s a letter come for him,’ she blurted, grateful for the thought that shot into her head. ‘He asked me to look out for it. Yes. And since I just saw the postman coming up the drive… I wanted to let him know.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, hopefully, he will pick it up from the hall—’

  Realizing that she had to act quickly, Kate turned sharply towards the door. ‘Forgive me, miss,’ she said, reaching for the door handle, ‘but… perhaps I’d best go and make sure that he does.’

  ‘Very well. Don’t let me detain you.’

  ‘No, miss.’

  Closing the door behind her, Kate stood for a moment trying to decide what to do for the best. In her chest, her heart was beating terrifyingly fast. Ned was returning to London. She knew she’d been right to feel uneasy. She knew she should have trusted her feelings – she had a sense for these things. Instead, by dithering, she had wasted precious moments. But what to do now? Seemingly, there was only one thing she could do.

  Taking the stairs at an unladylike canter, she arrived in the servants’ corridor and ran full pelt towards the hallway where, not caring who might be on the other side, she threw back the door. Quite by chance, there was no one there. Outside, though, a motor was running and so she ran to the front door, arriving in time to see Hugh Russell climbing into the station cab. Through the window, she could see the backs of two heads.

  ‘Ned!’

  At her shout, Mr Russell turned sharply. But then, looking her quickly up and down, he hastened into the cab, grabbed for the door and, before he had even pulled it properly closed behind him, was shouting to the driver. ‘Go, man. For Christ’s sake, drive on. Quickly!’

  In disbelief, she shouted after him. ‘Mr Russell, please! Ned!’ But, despite her distressed shrieking, not one of the heads inside even turned towards her.

  With the cab starting to pull away, she lunged towards it, only to be left with her arms flailing as she battled to remain upright. Determined they shouldn’t get away from her, she bunched her skirt against her legs and started to run after them. With the cab gathering more speed, and heedless of the widening distance, she trailed in their wake, gulping for breath, her legs becoming leaden beneath her. Even as it became obvious that she wouldn’t catch up to them, she continued to run anyway, sobbing loudly, while, inside the cab, not one of the three heads turned to look back.

  Eventually, her breath spent and her lungs burning, she stumbled to a halt, clutching at her side. Then, gasping, she dropped to her knees, the gravel stabbing at the palms of her hands as she doubled over, gulping for breath.

  Behind her, footsteps scrunched heavily. Then, with two arms reaching around her waist, she felt herself being lifted from the ground.

  ‘Kate, Kate, I’ve got you. It’s all right. I’ve got you.’

  Chapter Eight

  …And Lies

  ‘Kate, please, try an’ draw some deep breaths.’

  Kate was tired of Luke’s pleading. She didn’t want to take deep breaths; she wanted to rant and shriek and rage at what they had done. Since having caved to his plea to be allowed to bring her indoors, she had sat in her mother’s office and refused to move. Ma and Edith had repeatedly tried to persuade her to go upstairs and lie down but she had no intention of doing anything of the sort. One of them – if not all of them – had to admit to being responsible for Ned’s sudden departure, and she was going nowhere until they had. She would not be silenced. She hated them. All of them. Because of them, Ned had left without even telling her he was going, let alone saying goodbye. And that had been their doing. All of them.

  ‘You did this!’ she shouted yet again, pointing a trembling finger at her sister. ‘Yes, you,’ she went on, still pointing to where Edith was standing against the closed door, her arms wrapped across her chest and her face with even less colour than usual. ‘You, you evil witch! You did this.’

  ‘Come on, Kate,’ Luke again tried to reason with her. ‘You know that ain’t true. How could it be?’

  ‘It is true,’ she wailed. ‘She did… something. Told… someone. I know it!’

  Unable to bring herself to look at Luke’s face as he crouched beside her, Kate hung her head. Her temples were throbbing, her hair was damp against her face and her throat felt dry and hard. She had been crying for ages and it was making her head ache, but she wasn’t going to let them calm her down. They had done this to her. And they would pay. She would not be led, quietly, up to her room; she wasn’t going to let them have it that easy.

  ‘If you’re suggesting I had any part in that boy’s departure,’ Edith began, unfolding and then immediately refolding her arms, ‘you’re wrong. It was nothing to do with—’

  ‘That boy?’ Kate spat, leaping from her chair to stand just inches from her sister’s face. ‘That boy is called Ned. Or to you, Mr Edwin. And don’t you dare deny your part in it. Your petty jealous handiwork is plain for all to see. I know it was you.’ When Luke stood up and reached towards her, she swung to face him. ‘And you put her up to it. You betrayed me to her,’ she said. But then, momentarily startled by the blankness of his expression, she faltered, only the ache in her chest forcing her to continue. ‘You knew she would try an’ put a stop to it, so you told her. Yes, you did.’

  ‘Kate,’ he said wearily, his shoulders slumping and his head shaking slowly from side to side. ‘I’ve not spoken so much as a single word to your sister since you came out to see me in the workshop.’ Marking a cross on his chest with his forefinger, he added, ‘And I’ll swear to it howsoever you wish.’

  ‘Then she did it on her own,’ she said, nodding her head in the direction of Edith, ‘the shrivelled-up and jealous old shrew.’

  Having so far done nothing but sit behind her desk and listen, Mabel Bratton rose smartly to her feet, her face stony. ‘Kate, that’s enough. I will not have you speak to your sister in this way. That you’ve worked yourself up into a lather over something is no reason to take it out on the rest of us. I’ve put up with your waywardness these last weeks but now, it’s got to end. Your behaviour this morning has been beyond the pale.’

  ‘But Ma—’

  ‘I’m still speaking. So have the good grace to remain quiet and hear what I should have said to you before now. Not for the first time this last month, you’ve disgraced yourself and brought shame upon the rest of us. Not for the first time, you’ve got some mazed idea into your head and behaved with no thought as to the consequences. And now that it’s all come a-tumbling down about your ears, you’re looking to lay the blame at someone else’s door. Well, I will not tolerate it. I will not have you carry on like it. Nor will I stand by while you call Edith such wicked names. Luke,’ she said, turning stiffly towards him, ‘before I ask these two to account for themselves, tell me, what do you know of what happened?’

  Beyond caring how Luke might respond, Kate sank back down onto the chair. So
what if he relayed what she’d said to him about leaving? What did it matter now? Her situation couldn’t be any worse than it already was, so what did it matter? Pulling her already sodden handkerchief from her pocket, she dabbed in futile fashion at her eyes. They felt swollen and achy and she could only guess at how awful she must look.

  ‘Honestly, Mrs Bratton? I know nothing of any of it.’ From behind her dishevelled hair, Kate flicked her eyes to his face. In apparent emphasis of his point, he was standing with his hands outstretched, palms uppermost. ‘I was going about a repair to the bench under the cedar tree when I heard a commotion. When I put down my hammer and went to see what was going on, I saw Kate, dropped to the ground, sobbing her heart out. But as to what had gone on before I got there, I couldn’t say.’

  Why was he doing that, Kate wondered? Why wasn’t he telling them what she’d said to him? Why was he protecting her? It wasn’t as though it would change anything between them; she still wasn’t going to marry him.

  ‘Hmm. And you, Edith, what’s your involvement in all of this?’

  This time, Kate pulled her hair back from her face and stared openly at her sister. The manner with which Edith was wringing her hands almost certainly spoke to her guilt.

  ‘Nothing, Ma. I’ve not the least notion what’s behind her wild accusations.’

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘Kate, be quiet!’

  ‘Well, she is a liar! She stands there, all saintly and innocent-looking, all the while hiding a secret of her own.’ When she saw the panic that flashed across Edith’s face, Kate didn’t miss her chance. ‘That’s right. Didn’t know I knew about that, did you? Thought I’d never find out about your secret trysts with one of the guests.’

  ‘One of… the guests?’ The fractured nature of Mabel Bratton’s observation – as though struggling with either fear or disbelief – turned all three of them towards her.

  ‘Yes, Ma,’ Kate said, her own manner suddenly calm. ‘Ask her who she’s been meeting behind the stables. And then ask her what’s she been threatening him with.’