by Dilly Court
‘I’ll explain later.’ Kate ushered her mother into the house, stepping in after her, followed by Jenny.
Goodfellow hefted the first of the trunks into the entrance hall. ‘Give us a hand, cully?’
‘I’m the caretaker here. We haven’t got a footman, you’ll have to manage on your own – cully!’ Arthur turned his back on Goodfellow. ‘This is a bit unexpected, Miss Martin. Martha likes to have a bit of warning so she can get a room prepared. We have other guests, as you well know.’
‘I’m sure we can manage just for tonight,’ Kate said hastily. ‘I don’t mind sharing with my maid, but my mother is recently widowed and today was my father’s funeral. I would like her to have one of the best rooms.’
‘Well, if you put it like that, miss, I’ll see what I can do.’ Arthur lit a candle, which was placed in readiness on a carved wooden chest. He handed a brass candlestick to Kate. ‘I’ll go and tell Martha that you’re here.’
‘I can give Ivy a hand to get the beds made up.’ Jenny proffered her arm to Arabella. ‘If you’d care to lean on me, your ladyship, I remember where the drawing room is situated. I expect you’ll find company there.’
‘Company?’ Arabella turned to Kate, her eyes blazing. ‘You didn’t mention that we would have to share the accommodation with anyone. Really, Kate, this is too bad. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.’
Goodfellow came to a standstill with a heavy box balanced on his shoulders. He looked to Kate for instruction. ‘In or out, miss?’
‘Bring all the luggage in, please, Goodfellow,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Mr Boggis will show you to your accommodation.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Is Lady Lyndon in the drawing room?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, miss, but Ivy and the nippers have gone to bed.’
‘Children?’ Arabella’s voice rose to a pitch that might have shattered glass. ‘There are children here? How many?’
‘Eight of them, ma’am,’ Arthur said silkily. ‘Eight nippers running around the house, all of them under the age of nine.’ He turned to Goodfellow. ‘You’d best come with me. There’s room above the stables, but don’t get in Warrender’s way. He’s her ladyship’s groom and he’s not too happy about being away from London. Just so you know to watch what you say.’
Goodfellow shrugged and muttered something beneath his breath.
‘We’re definitely leaving first thing tomorrow.’ Arabella leaned on Jenny’s arm. ‘Take me to the drawing room. Do they keep a good cellar here? I need a glass of sherry wine.’
‘Come with us, Mama. I’ll introduce you to Lady Lyndon. I’m sure you’ll both get along really well.’
As they walked slowly towards the drawing room Kate could hear the strains of ‘Home Sweet Home’ being played on a concertina. She opened the door and they hesitated, listening intently while Annie played the last notes. It seemed to Kate it was an omen, but one look at her mother’s face dashed her hopes.
‘What have we come to, Kate? Who is that person?’
‘Mama!’ Kate released her mother’s arm. ‘That was impolite,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t lecture me on manners. I’m tired and I’m in a haunted house with complete strangers.’
Annie sank down on the sofa, clutching her concertina. ‘I’m sorry if my music offends you, ma’am.’
‘It was beautiful,’ Kate said hastily. ‘I’m afraid my mother is overwrought and very tired. It was my papa’s funeral earlier today.’
Lady Lyndon rose to her feet. ‘My dear Mrs Martin, how very sad. Please accept my condolences.’
Arabella drew herself up to her full height, ignoring Lady Lyndon’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s Lady Martin, and we haven’t been introduced, ma’am.’
‘Mama, I think this is not the time to dwell on etiquette. This is Lady Lyndon and the talented musician is Annie Blythe.’ She turned to Lady Lyndon with an apologetic smile. ‘We will be staying here for a while, ma’am. At your son’s invitation, of course.’
If Lady Lyndon was offended by Arabella’s attitude she was too polite to make an issue of it. She smiled and sat down. ‘I assume we are all being threatened by that dreadful fellow in London.’
‘Yes, exactly.’ Kate turned to her mother. ‘Sit down, please, Mama. Jenny will pour you a glass of sherry wine and then she’ll make sure that your bed is aired and ready. You must be exhausted.’
‘I am not a child, Katherine. You don’t have to speak to me as if I were half-witted. I will take a glass of sherry, for medicinal purposes.’ Arabella lowered her voice. ‘Did you pack my laudanum? Sir Jasper recommended I take some before retiring.’
Kate exchanged meaningful glances with Jenny. ‘I’m sure that Miss Barnet saw to everything, Mama.’
‘I’ll have a glass of sherry wine, and one for Annie,’ Lady Lyndon said eagerly. ‘Play us another tune, Annie, dear.’
‘I don’t want a drink, thank you, Aunt Margaret.’ Annie struck up a lively jig.
‘No, no, no!’ Arabella covered her ears with her hands. ‘My nerves are already on edge. If you must play that common instrument, please play something soothing.’
Kate took the glass of sherry from Jenny’s hand. ‘I think the sooner my mother gets some rest the better.’
‘Of course, miss. I’ll make sure that her room is ready soon.’ Jenny hurried from the room.
‘Here you are, Mama.’ Kate pressed the wineglass into her mother’s outstretched hand. ‘Try to relax a little. Things will look better in the morning.’ She moved swiftly to a side table and poured sherry for Lady Lyndon, which she placed on a small table within easy reach.
‘That’s a lovely tune, Annie,’ Kate said appreciatively. ‘It’s “Come into the Garden, Maud”, isn’t it?’
Annie smiled. ‘Yes, it’s quite new but it’s one of my favourites. The words are nice, too, but I can’t sing.’
‘Nonsense,’ Lady Lyndon said, sipping her drink. ‘You have a sweet voice, Annie. It’s a bit late now, but tomorrow you must entertain us properly. I’ll look forward to that.’
Arabella drained her glass and handed it back to Kate. ‘You may take me to my room now. I’m in need of peace and quiet.’
Kate knew better than to argue and she helped her mother to her feet. ‘I’ll say good night, too, Lady Lyndon. I need to sort some things out with Martha before I go to bed. Good night, Annie. Thank you for the lovely music.’ She picked up a chamber candlestick and opened the door, standing back to allow her mother to pass.
‘Lovely music!’ Arabella muttered as she left the room. ‘I thought we’d walked into an ale house when I heard that dreadful noise.’
Kate closed the door. ‘Mama, I know you’re upset and tired, but please try to be civil. Lady Lyndon is Harry’s mother and she’s a very nice person. You could at least try to get on with her, and Annie is blind.’
‘Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Kate. I don’t think I’m going to like it here.’
‘We haven’t much choice, Mama.’
‘I’m going to tell Goodfellow to drive me back to Finsbury Square in the morning. I’d rather face that dreadful creature Monks than be marooned here with that woman and the concertina girl. Heaven knows what it will be like when there are dozens of children running round this dreadful old mausoleum.’
‘We’ll see how you feel after a good night’s sleep.’ Kate guided her mother to the staircase. When they reached the first floor she could see an open door. ‘That must be your room.’
‘Not for long,’ Arabella said gloomily. ‘I expect the bed is damp.’
Martha emerged from the room carrying an armful of bedding. ‘A little notice would have been helpful, Miss Martin. This isn’t a hostelry.’
‘We came at Sir Harry’s invitation,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Tomorrow morning you and I will settle down and see what arrangement can be made to employ extra help.’
Martha eyed her warily. ‘It sounds as if you might be here for some time, Miss Martin.’
‘I’m af
raid that is a matter beyond my control.’
‘Are we to stand here all night, discussing our business with a servant?’ Arabella demanded crossly.
‘Your room is ready, your ladyship.’ Martha tossed her head and stomped off in the direction of the back stairs.
‘Come along, Mama.’ Kate ushered her mother into the bedroom. ‘Thank you, Martha,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Don’t pander to her.’ Arabella came to a halt, gazing round the shadowy room with obvious distaste. ‘I’ll sleep here tonight because there’s no alternative, but I’m leaving tomorrow, with or without you, Kate.’
Chapter Fourteen
Kate’s room was situated at the front of the house, overlooking the carriage sweep, although by the time she was ready for bed she was too tired to care which direction it faced. Jenny had made up a truckle bed in the adjoining dressing room. She could have chosen a much larger room on the top floor, but Kate realised that Jenny was nervous of sleeping on her own, and she was happy to have her company.
A fire had been lit to dispel any hint of dampness, despite the fact that it was a reasonably warm night. Even in the flickering light from the flames and the glow from two candles on the mantelshelf, the corners of the room were lost in the gloom. The four-poster bed with its damask-covered tester and curtains stood like a welcoming island in a sea of shadows. Even so, the darkness seemed to wrap itself around Kate like a warm blanket and she felt completely at home. When she eventually climbed into bed the feather mattress was soft and she sank into it with a sigh of relief. They were as safe here as they could be anywhere, and Monks was unlikely to find them. She could hear Jenny snoring gently in the next room, and Kate closed her eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep.
She awakened next morning to the chorus of birdsong and the sound of a teacup rattling on its saucer. Kate opened her eyes to see Jenny standing at her bedside.
‘What time is it?’ Kate sat up to take the tea from Jenny’s hand.
Jenny chuckled. ‘Well, in London you’d think it early, but here in the country it seems they get up at the crack of dawn and they consider this mid-morning.’
‘I slept so well. I haven’t had a night’s sleep like that for goodness knows how long.’ Kate sipped the hot, sweet tea. ‘Is my mother up and about?’
‘I looked into her room before I went downstairs but she was still asleep. I left her because it will do her good. The poor lady is worn out with grief.’
Kate nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, I’ll get up as soon as I’ve drunk this and I’ll put on one of my old gowns. I dare say there’ll be plenty to do downstairs, and I’m more than happy to help.’
‘Your mama won’t like it, miss.’
‘I can’t laze about and I want to make sure that everything is running smoothly. Perhaps my mother will agree to stay if she finds the house comfortable and well run.’
‘Surely you won’t allow her to return to London? Not with that Mad Monks planning to kill us all.’
‘I don’t think he’d go that far, although I cannot be certain. The sooner he’s behind bars, the better.’ Kate handed her empty cup back to Jenny and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Thank you for that. Now I’m ready for anything. I’ll dress and go downstairs to face Martha.’
‘She’s banned Ivy’s nippers from the kitchen. I think Martha and Lady Martin have got something in common, miss. They don’t like children.’
Kate walked over to the washstand and filled the bowl with water from the ewer. ‘I can see this isn’t going to be easy, Jenny.’
Kate entered the kitchen expecting to face an irate Martha, but instead she was greeted by a broad smile.
‘I’ve found something to keep them nippers out of my way, miss.’ Martha said, chuckling.
‘That was very clever of you. They’re good children but they’re used to working. I don’t think a life of idleness would suit them.’
‘As I said to Arthur, the devil finds work for idle hands. I’ve set them to work in the garden. Morrison is getting too old and rheumaticky to do the job properly. I saw to it the nippers had a good breakfast and the older ones went off as if it was a game to them.’
‘What about Ivy and the other children?’
‘Ivy’s in the stillroom using the rose petals that the nippers have collected. She said she knows how to make rose water and skin cream. She might know how to make perfumed soap, too. Carbolic is good enough for us country folk, but her ladyship has other ideas. I had to tell her that the village shop don’t sell them fancy soaps and fragrances. Ever so disappointed she was.’
‘I’m sure she can live without such luxuries,’ Kate said, smiling.
‘Anyway, that’s enough of that. Lady Lyndon is in the dining room having breakfast. The bacon and buttered eggs will still be hot, if you care to join her. I’ll make some more toast.’
Feeling like a schoolgirl dismissed from class, Kate murmured assent and left the kitchen to make her way to the dining room, where to her astonishment she found Annie sitting at the table with baby John on her lap, while Charlie entertained Lady Lyndon with his attempts to hold a conversation.
‘Kate, my dear. Do help yourself to some breakfast. Annie and I have finished but we are being entertained by Charlie and the baby. Annie definitely has a way with little ones.’
Annie dropped a kiss on top of baby John’s head. ‘He’s so sweet and he loves music. He was crying earlier and then I played a tune on my concertina and he was all smiles.’
‘Everyone seems to have settled in so well,’ Kate said, helping herself to bacon and buttered eggs from a silver breakfast dish on the sideboard. ‘It feels as if the old house has woken up after a long sleep.’
Lady Lyndon smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I said. Of course I hope we can return to London very soon, but this place is really quite pleasant and the air smells delightful. I’m going out into the garden to see what the children are doing.’ She rose from her chair. ‘How is your mama this morning, Kate? I should have asked you sooner. The poor lady looked very out of sorts last evening.’
‘She was still asleep when I came downstairs, ma’am. I’ll check on her again as soon as I’ve had my breakfast.’
Annie stood up, still cuddling baby John. ‘I’ll come with you, Aunt Margaret.’
‘I think Charlie wants to hold your hand,’ Kate said, trying not to laugh at the little boy’s determination to attract Annie’s attention.
Annie reached downwards and Charlie curled his tiny hand around her index finger. He followed Lady Lyndon, leading Annie as carefully as if he understood that she was unable to see. Kate watched them with a smile on her lips. They had barely left the dining room when Martha bustled in carrying a silver rack filled with toast.
‘It’s a pleasure to have the house filled with people,’ she said, beaming. ‘I could do without them nippers, but I have to say they’ve behaved themselves so far.’ She placed the toast rack in front of Kate. ‘I could make up a tray for your ma, if that would help. I like to clear the dining room as soon as everybody’s finished. I have a routine to keep up.’
Kate nodded. ‘A boiled egg and some toast would do very nicely, thank you, Martha. I’ll take it upstairs myself, and I’m prepared to help around the house.’
‘Oh, no, miss. That wouldn’t do at all. You’re definitely above stairs and we’re here to wait on you.’ Martha folded her arms across her ample bosom. ‘We might be a way out of London, but we do things proper here in Walthamstow.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Kate said hastily. It was obvious that her suggestion had offended Martha’s sense of propriety. ‘Perhaps I could help by going to the village. You might need some extra supplies now we’re here.’
‘I suppose that wouldn’t hurt,’ Martha said thoughtfully. ‘I usually write down an order for Mr Ruggles at the village shop. He makes it up and his boy delivers it, but we are a bit short of flour and lard. A pound or two of cheese would be useful.’
‘That’s settled then,’ Kate said cheerfully. ‘I’ll go for a walk and get my bearings. It’s a lovely day.’
‘Very good, miss.’ Martha picked up the empty silver serving dish and left the room at her usual brisk pace.
Kate suspected that, despite her grumbles about the children, Martha Boggis was in her element now that her services were needed again. Kate finished her meal and collected her bonnet and shawl from her room. She did not bother Jenny as she intended to go out on her own. Being seen with a servant in attendance would only draw attention to herself, and that was the last thing she wanted. She knew little about village life, but she suspected that the gossips would delight in passing on titbits of information concerning Warren House.
She set out with a wicker basket slung over her arm and a list of groceries in her reticule. Outside the gates was a strange new world of narrow country lanes bordered by deep green forest, farm land and the marshes stretching as far as she could see. As directed by Martha, Kate carried on until the lane widened into a street lined with cottages, a smithy and at the far end she could see the steeple of a church. Cyrus Ruggles’ shop was situated opposite the Nag’s Head Inn, adjacent to an ancient timber-clad house.
Inside the shop the floor was covered in sawdust and Cyrus himself presided over a highly polished counter, behind which shelves were lined with bottles, jars and a side of bacon, waiting to be sliced. A wheel of cheese sat on the end of the counter, and a sack of flour was carefully opened to reveal its contents.
The only other customer was an elderly woman, who turned her head to stare openly at Kate.
‘That’ll be tuppence halfpenny, Mrs Sloan.’ Cyrus rapped on the counter to attract her attention.
Mrs Sloan delved into her pocket and produced two pennies and a halfpenny, which she threw down on the counter. ‘That’s robbery, if you ask me. How’s a poor widow supposed to survive with prices so high?’
‘I’m not the one to blame, Mrs Sloan. It’s them in the Government who control everything.’
Mrs Sloan grabbed her basket and pushed past Kate. ‘I wouldn’t shop here, if I was you, dear.’ She slammed out of the shop.
