Eve had wondered at the whereabouts of this precious family heirloom but of course her father would do something this generous and thoughtful. Not that Mr Jenkins needed to know how she’d missed it. ‘He was always very grateful to you, for looking after Mother when she was young,’ she said instead.
‘She looked out for me too, Evie. We Scottie Road lot have to stick together,’ he told her, nodding solemnly. ‘It’s the same for you, y’know that, don’t ye? Whenever you need anythin’…’
‘…come find you at the old pub near home.’
‘Aye, that’s where I’ll likely be. You may be a fine lady working in a fine house but ye’ll always be Emma-Kate’s baby girl to us.’
Eve nodded, too moved to comment, so she gave him a quick hug instead.
‘Aw, come on then. Enough o’that. Let’s see if we can’t rustle up some of that smoked ham you’re always partial to, eh? Joe!’ he called to his friend who was working on that stall. Soon Eve was munching on a delicious piece of meat as she continued her errands and by the time she struggled onto the omnibus with Molly her basket was overflowing. Not so her companion’s. Molly had managed to get Peter to lift the potatoes on board but had achieved little else, save eat sweets and bat her eyelashes for a few hours.
The omnibus rumbled along, eventually arriving at their stop and the girls alighted, Eve pausing to pat one of the familiar horses that drew it before she went.
‘There now, Clover,’ she said, stroking his soft nose one more time before moving off, only to see Mrs Matthews running down the road towards her, skirts and petticoats swishing about, her face red from exertion.
‘Evie! Evie!’
Molly had paused to laugh at the sight and Eve would have joined her if not for the reason behind such excitement suddenly dawning as she spied the letter in Mrs Matthews’s hand.
‘You’ve got it, my girl! They’ve taken you on!’
Eve opened the letter slowly, reading its contents and searching for an appropriate response. ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she said, although in truth it felt more like resignation.
‘God has listened to our prayers,’ Mrs Matthews said, still breathless as she grasped Eve’s hands tight and beamed at her. ‘You’ve quite a future before you now.’
‘Half yer luck,’ Molly said, no longer laughing.
‘Yes, very lucky indeed,’ Eve said, forcing a smile.
‘Goes to show y’never know what fate has in store for ye! And to think they need y’so soon after all this waiting. Ye’ll be off straight after the hunt!’
‘You mean I’ll have to do the unpacking all by meself…?’ Molly began to complain but Mrs Matthews cut her short as they turned for the house.
‘In all my born days, I’ve never known a girl so bone lazy! Who d’y’think does most of it for you anyways? By the living saints.’
But Eve had stopped listening now because there was movement at the front parlour window and a man with eyes so brown they were almost black was watching her as she approached the gate. He already knew her news; she could read it in his stance. And even from here she could sense the tension that ran through him, predatory and intense. Unyielding and unwilling to let her go.
She hadn’t wanted this, it was true what she’d said that first day, and yet it was hers, just the same. It seemed desire was not a choice; it actually chose you. And now the hunter would close in and it was her heart that was in peril; the trophy in any true game of chase. Staring back at those eyes, she wanted to run the gauntlet, to see where the hunt would lead. But of course, there were only two possible outcomes, willing prey or no.
To escape to safety before the time ran out or to end up, eventually, being caught.
Eight
It was raining again, running in tears down the pane, and Eve watched the fall as if from a distance, trying not to feel the overwhelming weight of mixed emotions that ran within.
She would leave this house tomorrow, and every memory it held, and her mismatched bags stood by the door in a bulging, haphazard pile, as if confused to be filled to bursting for the first time. They contained every possession Eve owned, including her dresses and shoes and an assortment of knickknacks the family had collected over the years, with her mother’s portrait in careful wrapping near the top.
She was taking her father’s books too and would add the precious family Bible to the pile when she could bear to pack it away. For now it sat in her lap and she turned up her lamp to look through those old, familiar pages. She hadn’t seen the images since she was a child: Samson in the temple, Moses parting the sea, the fall of Babylon.
Eve flicked to the beginning and her eyes traced what used to be her favourite page: Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. They were dressed in animal skins and running from huge dark clouds that represented the wrath of God as the serpent watched them from the trees. There was an apple drawn in the margin and Eve remembered her father putting it there after reading her the passage in his deep, cultured voice. Eve hadn’t had a very good afternoon that day, getting herself in trouble with Cook for climbing on a chair to reach the biscuit tin then falling hard, cutting her chin. Her father had been less than impressed to find Cook yelling at his injured daughter but he’d also been aware a lesson needed to be learnt, something he’d delivered in his own gentle way as Eve held her bandaged face and sniffed back tears beside him.
‘This is your time in history, Evie,’ he’d said as he drew the apple. ‘Not the original Eve but an Eve just the same, and with the same lessons to learn. But you get chances, you see, never forget that. When times are darkest remember that God forgives; He brought the Saviour to us in the end. This Eve went on to be the first mother, to be penitent, and showed great humility. She made amends.’ He’d patted her head then, adding, ‘All of us fall down at some point, my dearest girl, but the best among us learn from our mistakes.’
Eve smiled in memory, touching the faint scar that still ran along her chin and missing him so much at that moment that tears clouded her vision. Oh Papa, I have fallen hard.
Still, it was almost done. Only one more week with the family at their country estate to assist at the hunt then her days in their service were over. From there she’d go straight to her new employer and her new life to forget all about her brief flirtation with sin. She supposed she’d see out the rest of her days a spinster. Not many nannies found husbands, locked away on remote country estates, nor would temptation likely cross her path evermore.
Eve braced herself to face that sin one last time, sure that Robert would come and longing for his touch, knowing there would be little chance for them to be together at the crowded hunt. But she dreaded it too. Tonight, temptation would shine brighter than ever before as it offered one last taste. Eve prayed she would remain strong enough not to take a full bite, after all, and earn God’s wrath. To somehow escape to a respectable, if loveless, fate.
Robert had been preoccupied with his guests all night, but now, at last, the tread of footsteps and the click of the door sounded and Eve gasped as he wasted no time, ripping off his dinner jacket and falling in a rush to kiss her with more urgency than ever before. The rest of their clothes were quickly discarded and sudden, desperate confessions exploded; words of longing, of rebellion, of desire.
‘You cannot leave me,’ he said, between aching kisses. ‘One night apart…was hard enough…forever…it’s unthinkable…’
‘I…I don’t know how I shall bear it,’ she admitted, already missing him even though he was in her arms.
‘My sweet girl…’
Eve grasped his dark head close against her chest, unable to stop her next words. ‘My love.’
Robert lifted his black eyes, searching into her soul. ‘And I love you, my Evie. Let me show you how much this last time…please.’
She’d been prepared for his lust but not his love and it made that apple shine and beckon unbearably. Then he stroked her chin ever so gently, touching her scar that lay there in imprint; a reminder of past re
cklessness. Robert kissed it, softly, and it felt like a worshipful plea to embrace the sinner within; to let go.
Eve felt surrender overtake her in an irresistible wave. There was no more restraint as he took her to new places of pleasure, places she knew she should deny him but could no longer withhold. For he’d taken her heart now, along with her body, and the force of it drowned out any sense from her mind.
There was a moment of pain but then something sweet and wondrous, a true union of man and woman; a glorious revelling in the Garden of Eden that ended far too soon. It left her with no regret and she doubted she’d ever feel such an unworthy emotion when she remembered it, in years to come. It may well be considered immoral and depraved by others in their world but right now it felt pure with love. And it belonged only to them, and the sound of the rain as she lay against his chest, her ear on his heart. Holding on to each precious second before they slipped away.
‘I will find a way to be with you…at the hunt.’
‘You know it’s impossible,’ she told him, ‘the guests, the servants’ quarters…’
‘I will find a way.’
She knew she should discourage the idea. It could potentially endanger her entire future, but that was the strangest thing about temptation.
When it overtook the heart it no longer felt like sin.
Nine
Normally, cleaning up after breakfast was no great challenge for Eve but that following morning it was turning into something of a catastrophe. For starters, Robert’s guests were a demanding duo. She’d been spared their presence the night before by having to help Cook in the kitchen but today she was needed upstairs and feeling more rattled by the minute. Lady Augustine had twice complained about the temperature of her eggs then ordered the bacon be re-fried to a ‘respectable level of crisp’. And her brother, the overweight and leering Sir Bixby, had insisted Eve pour the tea at least half a dozen times, she suspected merely to have her in his close proximity.
Meanwhile, Lady Sophia was fussing over her lap dogs to the point of obsession, demanding Eve fetch brushes and powders and even tonics in preparation for ‘the little biddy babies’’ big trip to the country.
Robert had adopted an expression of boredom towards the whole proceeding, a necessary enough stance, but it depressed her to have him ignore the way they all treated her, just the same. Molly was also behaving in a particularly superior way which was grating on Eve’s nerves.
All of this, coupled with the knowledge that she was leaving Mrs Matthews, the closest person to her in the world today, and soon to be giving up the man she now loved, had her almost to the point of tears. Her hands shook as she cleared away cutlery and her throat ached to find a quiet corner and have a good cry.
But of course there was no time for such self-indulgence. The entire party would leave at noon and Eve was starting to wonder how on earth she would ever get on that carriage but somehow, one by one, each chore was done. The packing of refreshments, the stowing of blankets, the scrubbing and cleaning and lugging things about, until finally, unbelievably, it was time to depart.
Robert was already in his carriage, his black eyes finding hers in one fleeting message of desire as he boarded, leaving her riddled with longing then guilt as Mrs Matthews came over to say her final goodbye.
‘Have you got your good shawl?’ the housekeeper asked with a forced lightness but her chin was already quivering and Eve swallowed against her own building tears.
‘Yes. In my basket,’ Eve told her, putting it down. ‘I…I suppose this is it then…’
‘Aye, and no tears mind. ’Tis a happy occasion for you, let’s no’ forget.’ Eve nodded, trying to remain composed, but then Mrs Matthews placed a parcel in her hands, adding, ‘Just a little departing gift, child. It’s a cake tin. Perhaps you’ll think of me oft times, when you have your tea, like. I know I’ll…’ she paused then as her voice began to break, ‘I’ll be thinking of you.’ Eve fell into her arms, unable to hold back her tears now and Mrs Matthews let out a sob of her own. ‘There, child. There now, my girl. Off you go,’ she finished, patting her back before pulling away. ‘Write to me as soon as you can, won’t you?’
Eve nodded. ‘Of course…of course I will.’ Her step was unsteady then as she boarded the carriage, the last to depart, and it took off immediately, allowing Eve only seconds to settle herself before leaning out to wave goodbye.
‘Be good,’ Mrs Matthews called, clutching her handkerchief, tears streaming now.
Eve couldn’t bring herself to respond to that but she managed to nod and call out ‘goodbye!’.
The stately house was passing from sight now as the carriage moved onto the street and Mrs Matthews walked out to the footpath, a lone figure in grey, still crying and waving. Now left behind.
‘Goodbye,’ Eve whispered, to the only home she’d ever known, to the street that had carried her to market every Saturday morning of her life, to the woman who’d been like a mother, all these years. To the cathedral that watched over them all, rich and poor alike, in this city of Liverpool, until most found their end in the graveyard behind. The place where her parents lay.
Goodbye, Eve told her mother and father silently. I’m sorry that I’ve been so true to the worst traits of my namesake, but I will try to repent. There’ll be time, you see…the rest of my days.
Eve drew back from the window and closed her eyes, too exhausted by the emotions of the past twenty-four hours to reflect anymore. But her body ached with the irrefutable truth that this really was the beginning of the end now. She was taking leave of more than people and places in these last, precious moments, she was farewelling herself – or at least the only version of the person she had always been. In a matter of mere days she would be a stranger in a strange home living a strange, new, loveless life.
The wheels rattled and Eve looked along the line towards the fine family carriage up ahead and a now-familiar flutter of excitement unfurled, despite her grief and resignation, for there were still hours to be filled before that lonely new life. Moments to find dark eyes and perhaps whispers or precious more. Until she said goodbye to the last person she loved and left her reckless days of sin behind.
Ten
Arlington House, North-East Lancashire, September 1851
The glass balls shone as Eve lowered them in their crate onto the table, relieved she hadn’t tripped and smashed such a delicate delivery. It was painstaking work, filling each one with feathers and powder, and she’d been up preparing them since before dawn, figuring Molly would sleep in and leave the lion’s share of it up to her, which, predictably, she had. That task accomplished, she paused briefly to look at the scenery, which was distracting in the early afternoon sunshine.
The grazing paddocks were lush beyond the stables and dog pens, and the gardens were thick with early autumn flowers. It was very pretty, of course, but it was the forest and the bare gritstone fells above it that enticed Eve. They looked wild and inviting and Eve longed to explore them on horseback as the young gentlemen had been doing this morning. It wasn’t just because she had happy memories of clambering across the open hillsides and through the shadowed corridors in years gone past, it was because one man in particular rode up there today. And in such raw surrounds that’s all he became: a man. And she a woman.
Horse hooves sounded and Eve’s stomach lurched at the sound of their return.
‘Excellent house party this year, my friend, truly excellent,’ she heard Sir Bixby saying to Robert as they dismounted nearby. ‘You must let me return the favour by staying with me in London for the season. Young Alice Morley is coming out, so I hear.’
‘Last I saw she looked to be quite a beauty,’ one of the guests, Nigel Rawlings, joined in. ‘Ripe for the picking, I’d say.’
‘I remember her sister Pauline was fair,’ Robert said, patting his white country stallion Zeus and handing over the reins to the stable boy.
‘Bit pasty for my taste, although perhaps it washes off. Honestly, why do wo
men insist on wearing so much powder these days?’ Bixby exclaimed. ‘Give me the soft pink cheek of a country lass any day,’ he added loudly and Eve made a hasty exit over to the refreshments table to help lay out the sandwiches and pastries.
‘What took you so long?’ complained Molly under her breath. ‘Put the glasses out and be quick about it.’
Eve couldn’t be bothered objecting so she did as she was told, trying not to notice how handsome Robert looked in his country attire as the men lined up for the trap shoot. She wasn’t the only one admiring him, if the coquettish comments coming from the approaching ladies were anything to go by.
‘I’ve a wager on you, Sir Robert,’ one called out, a woman by the name of Samantha Wiggins whose blonde hair was wound in tight ringlets. ‘Shoot them all for me, won’t you?’
‘He doesn’t have every ball to himself,’ said Martha Harrison, a lady Eve remembered from previous years as being rather dry, ‘the men all take turns.’
‘Well, perhaps he’ll be the only one to hit any,’ Samantha said. ‘Get them all and I’ll partner you at whist tonight,’ she promised him across the lawn.
‘Surely that’s more of a punishment than a reward,’ Martha muttered. Samantha heard but merely giggled along with the others.
‘If Samantha gets to partner you at whist then I want the first quadrille,’ Augustine said with an exaggerated pout. Eve thought the expression made her look rather like one of Lady Sophia’s cavaliers then immediately regretted such an unkind comparison.
‘Now, now, ladies,’ Lady Sophia said airily, seeming vaguely amused at the feminine interest directed towards her son. Not that it had her full attention of course; there were dogs to be petted, after all. Randolph, the eldest and most spoilt, lay on his back in her lap, snoring, meanwhile Rosebud was chasing sparrows and falling over herself in her excitement at being outdoors. Eve couldn’t help but smile at her antics as she worked but it was soon replaced by a frown as another woman joined the party under the marquee, a tall redhead named Bernice Burrows. Eve remembered her well from the previous year’s hunt. It was difficult to forget a woman with a bustline like hers, particularly when she had it on continual display. Today it was showcased in a daringly low-cut blue silk dress, not an entirely appropriate choice for day-wear.
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