In a Great Southern Land
Page 8
‘Have I missed anything?’ she asked, smiling at the other ladies before planting her gaze firmly on Robert.
‘Just about to start,’ Robert told her, and Eve noticed he managed to keep his eyes on the woman’s face. Not so Bixby, unsurprisingly.
‘Splendid. I’ve been watching my figure all week in anticipation of your famous high tea afterwards, Lady Sophia. Whatever do you feed your cows to get such rich cream?’ She nodded over at the herd who were, indeed, rather fat as they grazed on the thick, emerald grass.
‘Best udders in England,’ Bixby declared, giving Bernice’s bodice a good leer.
‘Really, Sir Bixby!’ Bernice protested, but her smile was smug.
‘Least the cows keep their udders to themselves,’ Molly said under her breath and Eve stifled a smile of her own.
Robert cuffed his friend’s shoulder before signalling for the first ball to be thrown and everyone watched as he took aim. He missed the first but hit the second and the glass exploded in a delightful rain of feathers and powder.
‘It seems an angel has misplaced his smelling salts,’ said Robert and the ladies all tittered and clapped both his skill and wit. It made Eve want to roll her eyes at the trivial pursuits of the wealthy and their equally trivial games of charm but she was jealous too, despite that.
Bixby went next, hitting his third target, followed by Nigel and a few others who had wandered down to join in, and by the time high tea was served all the glass balls had been smashed, much to the party’s entertainment and amusement.
And all the while Eve poured and served and tried hard to focus on her work but it was becoming increasingly difficult. It was horribly dejecting standing on the edge of Robert’s world, never to belong; knowing even the simple pleasure of watching him was about to be taken away too. She and Robert may well be equals when the costumes of society were removed and they lay bare-skinned against one another, like Adam and that first Eve. But as soon as they donned those costumes once more and resumed the roles the world expected them to play any pretence of equality was gone. She would ever be a servant, unimportant and behind the scenes, there to provide service to people like him. Aristocrats born into privilege, destined to spend their lives strutting on society’s stage.
Eve passed by Bernice and offered her refreshments from the tray, her grey cotton dull alongside the redhead’s blue silk.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ Bernice said, not looking at Eve, of course, as she lifted a buttered scone covered in jam and cream and stuffed it past her lips. Eve tried not to watch but it transfixed her. This woman could devour anything she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Any pretence of worrying over her figure was just part of the play, lines she intoned to lure men close; have them focus on what lay beneath the layers of silk. Her only challenge in life would be choosing which wealthy man she would ensnare and, for someone like Bernice, that shouldn’t prove too hard. Her life was one of indulgence and Eve supposed it would always be so.
‘Robert,’ Bernice called, moving over to stand close and he turned and smiled his handsome smile. Augustine and Samantha glowered alongside them, obviously envious, and Eve could almost feel sorry for them, only she was too busy feeling sorry for herself. Then Robert leaned in and whispered something that made Bernice blush and suddenly the injustice of it all was too much to be borne. Eve walked to the table and put down her tray, trying not to let it slam.
‘Where d’y’think you’re off to?’ Molly said as she cleared away plates and forks.
‘We need more cream,’ Eve said, grabbing an empty bowl. She rushed across the lawn, ignoring Molly’s objection, her only focus putting space between herself and this farcical world. Eve ran down the stairs to the cellar, needing the darkest, quietest space to calm down, but instead of taking deep breaths or perhaps just crying she found herself hurling things instead. Bags of sugar and flour and oats. Stacking them in piles then hauling them back. Anything to release this pent-up tension. This anger. Because yes, she was angry now, angrier than she’d ever been. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born into a life of servitude. It wasn’t her fault she’d fallen in love with a member of the gentry. It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t fair.
‘Argh!’ she grunted, lugging another sack.
‘What are you doing?’ asked a voice from the door and she turned in shock to see Robert standing there.
‘I…I…’
He walked over and Eve could only watch, mesmerised and heart pounding, as he lifted his hand to graze a tear off her cheek and trace the scar.
‘It’s killing me too,’ he said softly.
Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her mouth, her neck, tearing at buttons and pulling the grey uniform away. Baring skin to skin. Robert pushed her hard up against the shelves, his hands running along her legs. ‘I can’t be away long,’ he panted. She nodded and pulled him between her thighs and it was fast and urgent and so intense she stood shuddering afterwards, needing a minute to calm her breathing once he’d gone, blinking in the dim light as her senses returned.
Eve made her way to the kitchen and collected the cream, returning to the guests and resuming her part. But it wasn’t Robert’s renewed flirtation with Bernice that worried her upon her return, nor was it Lady Sophia’s insistence that her dogs eat the cream. It was the fact that Molly had merely delivered her a long knowing stare.
Without a single, admonishing word.
Eleven
‘The red or the green?’ Bernice held the brooches against the neckline frill of her riding habit, trying to decide.
‘Both would suit well, ma’am.’
‘True,’ Bernice said. ‘I think the green brings out my eyes more and Robert did call me a green-eyed vixen last night so…’ Bernice smiled at her reflection as she fastened it and Eve tried not to feel any jealousy. She could hardly warrant it after the incident in the cellar yesterday. ‘I wonder should I take an extra cloak… goodness, who’s here now?’ she added, rising to walk over to the window at the sound of carriages arriving. Eve stood nearby, watching as the two vehicles came to a standstill and the step was lowered from the first, allowing a lady and gentleman in very fine riding attire to alight. ‘Why, it’s Lady Margaret and Sir John Houghton. I didn’t know they were joining us this year.’
Eve stared at her future employers in shock. No, her mind rebelled. What are they doing here? I’m not ready to face them yet. I’m not ready!
‘I think I will take that cloak. Fetch it for me, will you?’ Bernice ordered, turning to take one last look at her reflection as Eve did so automatically. Bernice left the room then and, with her service to the lady now complete, Eve had no choice but to make her way to the kitchens.
She descended the great stairs filled with apprehension, wondering how she could avoid the newcomers and find somewhere to compose herself instead. It was only a difference of a few days but their presence at the hunt was intruding on these last stolen moments of desperate love. The Houghtons were an unbearable reality, an inevitable conclusion, but she wasn’t supposed to have to face them for four more days. Eve clenched her fist as voices sounded from the entryway and that sense of injustice rose within her once more.
‘…terribly ill, I’m afraid, but they’ve all recovered well now and we really couldn’t resist your kind invitation.’
‘But of course! You must meet young Eve too, while you’re here,’ Sir Humphrey was saying and Eve tried to slip past to the kitchen stairwell but failed. ‘Ah, but there she is! Eve, come greet your new employers. I must say we were very reluctant to let her go.’
Eve turned and walked towards them, trying not to appear nervous. Or guilty, which would be worse. ‘How do you do, Lady Margaret,’ she said with a curtsey. ‘Sir John.’
Lady Margaret assessed her with keen eyes. ‘Eve,’ she said with a slight nod.
‘Marvellous to meet you, young lady. Cook says her sister can’t sing your praises highly enough,’ Sir John said in a booming friendly way.
&nb
sp; ‘Mrs Matthews is very kind, sir,’ Eve said, searching for something else to say. ‘I’m very grateful for her recommendation and for your generosity in offering me this position. I will endeavour to serve you to the best of my ability.’
‘She mentioned you had some learning. Certainly your accent is rather genteel,’ Lady Margaret said, casually taking off her gloves as she spoke, her expression still sharp.
‘Eve’s father was a cultured man and taught his daughter well,’ Sir Humphrey told her.
‘I can’t imagine why anyone would bother educating a maid,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘Still, John seemed quite taken with the idea.’
‘Well, surely it will come in handy as the children’s new nanny; I dare say some positive influences will rub off on them,’ Sir John said. ‘Do you read well, my dear?’
‘Well enough to pass the time on rainy afternoons, sir.’
‘Marvellous, marvellous.’
‘I suppose you’ve brought books with you then?’ said Lady Margaret. ‘I’m not sure we’ll have room in the carriages.’
‘Only a few, ma’am. I can leave them behind if it inconveniences you.’
‘Nonsense, nonsense. Let the lass have her tomes if it pleases her,’ Sir John declared. ‘I find the notion of a learned servant rather refreshing.’ He beamed at her in approval and, Eve suspected, a fair dose of self-congratulation. The mystery behind the delay in her offer of employment was fast becoming clear.
‘She’s from fine stock, aren’t you, Eve?’ Sir Humphrey said. ‘An intelligent father and a beautiful mother. You’ll have to keep her under lock and key, my good fellow; we barely let her leave the house.’
The men chuckled but Lady Margaret’s mouth was set in a rigid line now. Eve felt a trickle of sweat run down her spine as the woman’s gaze flicked up and down, taking in every inch of her person. Suddenly the grey uniform felt too tight; the costume of obedient servant an absurdity upon Eve’s naked, sinful skin. Then, just as she tried to thrust such discomforting thoughts aside, footsteps sounded and Robert came down the stairs.
He looked resplendent in his red coat and riding attire and Eve wondered if she would actually pass out from the stress of being in his sudden, damning presence.
‘Robert,’ said Sir John, smiling broadly. ‘Good to see you, young man.’
‘Hello, John, Lady Margaret. You’re looking very well.’
Eve watched as the lady’s expression transformed from disapproval to undisguised appreciation. ‘Robert,’ she said, all smiles and fluttering eyelashes. Eve noted she was rather attractive when her expression softened. ‘You’re a dreadful beast, keeping us waiting for you to visit when we were last in town.’
‘I recall I had some pressing business to attend to, although looking at you now I wonder what on earth it could have been.’
She laughed and the party wandered off, leaving Eve to melt away into the invisible domain of servitude. But resentment stirred where compliance should appropriately reside.
And a flicker of black eyes followed her as she closed the door.
Twelve
The breeze was rippling the ferns that lay in thick undergrowth on the forest floor but the subtle sounds of such whispering nature were drowned out as the large party prepared for the hunt. Horns blew and hooves clattered and there were so many dogs underfoot and barking madly Eve could barely think straight. On top of all this, men were shouting and testing their guns while the few women on horseback attempted to appear poised and graceful among the mayhem.
Eve’s job was to help them set off so she could assist in preparing luncheon although that seemed an almost impossible eventuality. There was little hope of any structure descending upon this disorganised chaos. As it turned out, in the end they simply disappeared into the forest in sporadic, excited groups until at last the servants were left in peace. Mostly. Lady Sophia’s lap dogs, Randolph and Rosebud, were scratching in their wicker basket and Eve was ordered to let them out.
‘Keep a close eye on them, mind,’ warned Miss Baird, the estate housekeeper, and Eve sighed, knowing that would make the morning far more trying. As if it hadn’t been difficult enough. The cavaliers ran out in excitement, licking and jumping, and she smiled a little before hefting rugs from the cart and lugging them over to where the other servants were already beginning to set up the picnic. It wouldn’t be difficult setting out the prepared food and refreshments but it would be a challenge keeping Rosebud, in particular, from messing everything up. Everyone tried for a while but in the end Miss Baird ordered Molly to take her for a walk.
‘Why can’t Eve do it? She’s the one s’posed to be looking out for ’em.’
‘Yes, yes, alright then. Just go!’
Eve took off, glad to get away from Molly, at least, whose smug expression since yesterday was adding to Eve’s growing list of concerns. How much did Molly know? Had she seen Eve and Robert together or was she just making an educated guess that something was going on between them? Add to that the loss of her old life, a disapproving new mistress and a pending broken heart and Eve could really say she was quite miserable. The only thing keeping her from breaking down was the sweet, torturous anticipation that there could still be stolen moments of passion for her and Robert over these last few precious days. Somehow.
The sounds of people and activity began to fade as Eve walked on and the forest embraced her. The early autumn trees swayed gently, dappling this green and gold, canopied world in patterns of shade and light, the turning leaves bowing on heavy boughs as she passed. She picked one that was already tinged with crimson, twirling it in her fingers, thinking it had been a long time since she’d done so. It had been a long time since she’d felt that carefree, then she wondered what had motivated her to do it now. It just seemed like an easy thing to do; a simple, little act on a complicated day.
Rosebud trotted along in front and Eve watched her happy form, envying the dog’s freedom from worry. Hers was the most pampered life of all, although she couldn’t begrudge the pup as she looked back at Eve with beseeching brown eyes. She would miss her really, despite Lady Sophia’s ridiculous mollycoddling.
The forest beckoned her on and she clambered over a mosscovered hedge, deeper into the hardwoods now. The leafy roof thickened and it grew colder as the sunlight dimmed, appearing only in occasional rays now, catching tiny particles that looked like fairy dust, or so she would have mused in her younger days. How comforting it felt here, how familiar, despite the fact she only ever came to these parts once a year. Perhaps it would feel the same in any forest of the world; a welcoming back as you walked in. Some kind of homecoming. Maybe it arced back to primal existence, an ancient echo of living in Eden, before mankind chose a more complicated fate and temptation corrupted their right to paradise.
Distant horns could be heard and she closed her mind against the sound, not wanting to think about the violent games at play nearby and the poor animals whose hearts would be hammering hard as they ran a desperate race for their lives.
Eve sat to rest at the base of an oak tree as Rosebud explored the edges of the stream nearby, relaxing her aching shoulders as she leaned on the bark. It allowed her some small respite from the emotional turmoil rupturing within as she watched the water trickle and pool, then meander on in a steady, constant flow. Like it washed through her mind too.
Rosebud came to lay her head in Eve’s lap, and Eve stroked her velvety snout absently, closing her eyes and drawing the earthy, damp air deep into her lungs. Resting here, in the woods, she took comfort in its refuge, letting Mother Nature cloak her briefly in her unique, quiet wisdom. It felt almost like prayer, yet it was less confronting; the mother held no judgement and asked no atonement for sin. She simply said ‘live’ with every swaying branch, every flower, every insect. In the gentle flow of the stream.
She seemed more forgiving than God right now, filling Eve with the courage to face the harsh realities at hand. To take stock here, against the oak, away from the games of chase.
Such was the verdict of a rational mind but it fell deafly against the forest surrounds. For she and the mother both well knew that logic was a poor foe against passion, that humanity was ruled not only by the mind but by the body and the heart. It harked back to that very first garden when that first choice was made. When temptation tipped the sway.
Eve ran a great risk on this final run, the hounds of fate on her heels, as she made a last desperate dash to survival. Yes, there are always choices to be made, paths to be chosen, decisions along the way, but right now such power felt well beyond Eve’s conscious control. For her mind was no longer in charge and even her body wouldn’t dictate her fate. Both were now ruled by her captive heart.
It was the rain that woke her, in droplets large enough to break through the canopy and land on her startled face. Eve was disorientated at first but quickly remembered that she was in the forest and that some time must have passed because the clear skies were now slate grey through the leaves, her fingers numb with cold.
‘Rosebud,’ she called anxiously, but there was no patter of little paws or grateful bark and Eve supposed she had found her way back. She could only hope to do the same, trying to remember the way as she peered through the rain in the dimming light, feeling suddenly very alone.