Emily

by Valerie Wood

  ‘You see,’ said another woman, ‘you’re thirteen! You said so yourself.’

  Emily nodded. That was what she had said.

  ‘And Samuel,’ Mrs Turner raised her eyebrows, ‘why he must be going on twenty-six!’

  ‘He’s twenty-four, Mrs Turner,’ Emily said. ‘He’s just had a birthday.’ She waited for a further statement, but none came, the women only gazed at her. ‘So –,’ she glanced from one to another. ‘What –?’

  Mrs Turner lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced over her shoulder to the door, which was closed. ‘He’s a man is Samuel! Might not act like one, but nevertheless he is.’

  Emily laughed. ‘I know that, Mrs Turner, but I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘I’m meaning’, Mrs Turner was a little huffy, ‘that he’s a man wi’ bodily needs and you’re a lass and tha can’t stay in ’same house! Not just ’two on you together.’ She drew herself up and folded her arms beneath her ample bosom. ‘That’s what I’m meaning!’

  Emily felt herself grow hot and her cheeks crimsoned.

  ‘Tha’ll have started ’flux, I expect?’ another woman whispered. She pursed her lips. ‘Can’t be too careful when there’s men about.’

  Emily swallowed, but said nothing. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t really know what they were saying. She only knew that Samuel wasn’t really a grown man, he was still like a child in many ways.

  ‘So what we suggest’, Mrs Turner appeared to be speaking for everyone else in the room, ‘is that tha should apply to go into service. It’s coming up to Martinmas. Tha can go to Hedon or Patrington and try for a kitchen maid on one of ’farms.’

  ‘But who’ll look after Sam?’ Emily blurted out. ‘He can’t manage on his own!’

  ‘Why bless you, child,’ said one who hadn’t spoken before, ‘we’ll all take care of Sam if he stops on here. We’ll keep an eye on him, do a bit o’ baking and that. We’d do that anyway in memory of Mrs Edwards as well as for himself.’

  Mrs Turner rose to her feet. ‘So that’s that then. Come Martinmas tha’ll try for a place? Patrington might be best, there’s some good houses and farms that might take thee. Go presentable as if tha’s prepared for hard work, no fancy frills or furbelows, ’cos that won’t do at all.’

  ‘Thank you for coming.’ She escorted them to the door and on opening it saw Sam sitting morosely on a log with his chin in his hands. ‘I’ll think on what you’ve said.’

  Mrs Turner turned towards her. ‘Nay, lass, tha’ll have to do more than think on it. Nobody will have owt to do wi’ you if tha stops here wi’ Samuel. Tha’ll be thought a fallen woman, young as you are!’

  When the women had gone, Sam came into the house and sat down by the fire. He stared into the flames. ‘Don’t know what Mr Francis is going to say when he comes,’ he muttered. ‘He’ll want ’house back I expect, now that Gran’s gone.’

  Emily glanced around the room which had been her home for the last eight years. She had been to the house where her schoolteacher lived. A brick-built dwelling with wooden floors and rugs scattered upon them, there were curtains at the window and a maid to answer the door. Here, in Hannah Edwards’s house, the furniture was plain and useful and set on an earth floor, which in the winter was cold and damp underfoot. The fire in the hearth which now burned with crackling dry wood sometimes filled the room with acrid smoke when the wind blew in the wrong direction or if the wood, gathered from the river bank, was wet. But for all its simplicity she viewed it with affection. Here she had learned to sew and bake and had learned her lessons and read from her school books to Granny Edwards, who, in turn, had taken such pride in her achievements.

  ‘The women said I should go into service, Sam. They said I shouldn’t stop here with you. That it wasn’t right.’

  Sam stared at her. ‘Who’ll cook me dinner, then?’

  She permitted herself a small smile. Sam knew what was important to him. ‘The women said they would look after you. They’d bake for you, and I expect they might do your washing, though you’d have to pay them.’

  His face filled with dismay and his lips pouted. ‘But they wouldn’t be here to get me up in a morning and have me gruel waiting or me dinner on ’table when I got home, now would they?’

  ‘No, Sam,’ she said gently, ‘they wouldn’t. So we shall have to think of something else, won’t we?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I think it’s best if tha stops here, Em, if we can. Tha can’t be going off to service and leaving me on me own.’

  She sighed. The women didn’t know Sam. As far as he was concerned, she would simply be taking Granny Edwards’s place in looking after him. Those were Sam’s bodily needs; there were no others.

  Roger Francis came as dusk was falling. Emily saw him riding along the rutted lane and rushed to comb her hair and take off her apron. Sam rose from the table as he entered and touched his forehead.

  ‘Good evening, Samuel. Good evening – Emily, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Emily bobbed her knee. Granny Edwards must have spoken of her to Mr Francis for him to know her name. Today at the chapel was the first time she had met him.

  He sat down as invited and she and Sam stood uneasily before him. ‘You’re a relation of Mrs Edwards, I understand?’ He had a quiet voice and his manner was hesitant.

  ‘She was my father’s aunt, sir. She’s looked after me since I was five, when my father died.’

  ‘And what of your mother? Is she living?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. ’Last we heard she and my brother were in ’workhouse.’

  He looked grave, then said, ‘Sit down, Samuel. You too, Emily. We need to have a chat about what’s best to do. You know that I let Mrs Edwards stay on in this house for her lifetime? But’, he glanced at Sam and then at Emily, ‘it’s a good-sized house, too big for a single man and, besides, I can’t let you stay, Samuel – not on your own, especially as you don’t work for me. It, erm – it wouldn’t seem fair to my other tenants.’

  ‘Sir,’ Emily spoke up boldly, ‘the women who came to the funeral today said that I shouldn’t stay here on my own with Sam, on account of us not being proper relations,’ she added, and saw Mr Francis’s eyebrows rise. ‘But Sam can’t look after himself, so I was wondering, sir, if you don’t think me too forward in suggesting it, is, would you take Sam on at one of your farms and let him live in so that he doesn’t have to worry about his food and washing?’

  Mr Francis folded his arms and looked at her, and she thought his eyes looked kind. ‘And what would you do?’ he asked softly.

  ‘The women suggested that I should apply as a kitchen maid, sir. I’m old enough at thirteen.’

  She guessed that if Mr Francis were to take Sam as an estate worker he would stand by him on account of Hannah Edwards. He was the kind of gentleman, she decided, who would take care of his workers if they were loyal and hard-working, and Sam would be both these things, she had no doubt.

  Mr Francis remained silent, as if mulling over the idea, and gazing at Sam, who stared back at him, his lips clenched in a tight line. Then Sam spoke, ‘On ’farm they said I was a good worker and would keep me on after Martinmas if I wanted to stop.’

  ‘Did they? And do you want to stop, Samuel? Or would you like to come to one of my farms?’

  Sam glanced at Emily. ‘I don’t rightly know, Mr Francis. What does tha think, Emily? What would our gran say I should do?’

  ‘I think she would have liked you to work for Mr Francis,’ Emily said. ‘I think she would be very pleased if Mr Francis should offer you work.’

  Roger Francis gave her a smile, as if amused at the way she had turned the responsibility upon him. ‘But you would have to live in at the farm, Samuel. You can’t stay on here by yourself,’ he repeated. ‘I need the house for someone else.’

  Sam nodded. ‘Aye. But what about our Em? What’s to become of her when I’m not here to look after her? Gran wouldn’t want me to leave her on her own.’

&nb
sp; Emily felt a lump in the back of her throat and tears prickle her eyes. She dashed them away. ‘I’ll be all right, Sam. Don’t you worry about me.’ She turned to Mr Francis. ‘When do you want us to leave, sir? Could we have until Martinmas? It’s only two weeks away.’

  Roger Francis stood up. ‘Of course. Give notice on the farm, Samuel, and tell them you’re coming to me.’ He hesitated for a moment as he looked down at Emily and then said, ‘And I’ll find out if Cook needs anyone else in our kitchens. If she does, you can come to us without going to the statute fairs.’

  She beamed at him. She had been dreading standing in the market squares waiting for some farmer’s wife to like the look of her. It was like bidding for a young heifer or sheep, she thought. She bobbed her knee again as she let him out of the door. ‘You’re very kind sir, thank you.’

  ‘You’ll have to work hard if you come, Emily. There’ll be no favours given.’

  Startled, she drew herself up. ‘And none expected, sir, thank you.’

  He patted her on the shoulder, his hand resting lightly as he murmured, ‘I don’t suppose you’ll stay very long in the kitchens; but it’s a start. It’s a start.’

  Chapter Five

  Emily gave the hens to Dick and sold the few pieces of furniture to some of the village people for just a few coppers, and handed the money over to Sam. He looked down at it in his hand and then handed it back to her. ‘Tha’d better keep it, Em. I’m all right for brass and if ’mistress doesn’t want thee at ’big house, tha’ll need money till tha finds somewhere else.’

  That was the worry, she thought. If Mr Francis had forgotten to ask the cook, then she might have to go to the statute fairs after all. They had already started; both Jane and Dora had gone to the town of Patrington to try for positions as kitchen maids.

  She packed Sam’s belongings into his wooden box ready for him to take that evening when he moved to his new farm, and put her few belongings, a clean apron, Sunday dress and petticoat, into a parcel and then started to clean the house thoroughly. She brushed the walls and swept the floor and cleaned the window and swept the yard. When she had finished she swilled her hands and face beneath the pump, brushed her hair until it shone and tied it into a bun at the nape of her neck. She changed into a clean shirt and brushed down her skirt.

  Sam had gone down to the river bank. ‘Just for one last look,’ he said, so she put on her shawl and set off to walk to Mr Francis’s house, which was a few miles further inland, midway between the river and the sea. She had only a vague idea of where it was, for it wasn’t an area she knew, and had reached the village of Thorngumbald when a carrier’s cart caught her up and the driver offered her a lift.

  ‘Where’s tha heading, lassie?’ he asked. ‘Hedon market?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m going to Mr Francis’s house to try as a kitchen maid.’

  He nodded. ‘Elmswell Manor, that’s a fine estate,’ he said, ‘and a good man to work for, though they say missus is a tartar. Where’s tha from?’

  She told him briefly about Hannah Edwards and Sam and about having to move from the cottage. He’d known Mrs Edwards he said, everybody had, and he knew Sam, who had been abandoned by his mother. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish.’ He spat a chew of tobacco out into the road. ‘She never did tell who Sam’s father was. Trollop, that’s what she was, bringing shame on her family.’

  He dropped her off at some crossroads and gave her directions. ‘Turn right here and go up to ’top of ’road. Turn right at lane by ’second oak tree and carry on until ’road forks. Take right-hand fork and that’ll bring thee up to ’house.’ He leaned forward. ‘Go to ’back door and ask for Cook or housekeeper, don’t be fobbed off wi’ any of young maids. Treat Cook wi’ respect ’cos she rules roost at that house. What she says goes – don’t forget.’

  She thanked him and set off down the long road. Half-way along she saw the figure of a girl in front of her. As she drew nearer she recognized who it was. ‘Jane,’ she called. ‘Jane, is that you?’

  Jane turned round. ‘Where ’you going, Emily?’ She gave a sudden smile. ‘I’ve got a job as kitchen maid wi’ Francises! They took me on at Patrington.’ Emily took in a breath. ‘Oh! That’s where I’m going! Mr Francis said he would speak for me.’ Inwardly she groaned. If Jane had already been taken, they surely wouldn’t want her as well; this might well be a wasted journey.

  ‘Dora didn’t get took on, she’s going to try at Hedon and if nobody wants her there, she said she’s going to Hull!’

  The two girls stared at each other with wide eyes.

  ‘To Hull?’ Emily didn’t know anyone who worked in the busy fishing town further up the estuary. ‘But she won’t know anybody there!’

  ‘No, but she said there was plenty of work and if she can’t get into service she’ll try some of ’shops or factories.’

  Perhaps I could do that if I don’t get taken on here. Emily mulled the idea over in her mind. But Hull! It’s a long way. A long way? she argued silently. A long way from where? There’s nothing or no-one to bind me here. Granny’s gone and I shan’t see much of Sam once we both start work. I could go anywhere.

  She thought then of her mother and brother as she tramped with Jane at her side, down the long country road. There had been no word or letter since she had been told of her father’s death. No message to say if they were alive or dead. I am quite alone in the world, she thought. But rather than feel melancholy, she took heart, for she knew that whatever she did she did for herself alone.

  ‘I’m not sorry to be leaving home,’ Jane was saying. ‘Ma’s having another babby and our Jenny can take a turn at looking after ’em all. Scrubbing floors won’t be any hardship to me after looking after four little bairns. Catch me having any, I don’t think!’

  They approached the gates of Elmswell Manor and spoke only in whispers as they walked up the drive. ‘We have to go to ’back door,’ Emily said.

  ‘I know that, silly. Where else would we go?’

  The dignified grey-brick house was larger and grander than either had ever seen before. It stood three storeys high with Greek Doric columns to the entrance and a wide courtyard at the rear.

  They knocked on the back door and a girl answered. ‘Jane Dawson,’ Jane muttered. ‘I’ve been took on as kitchen maid.’

  The girl opened the door wider to let her in, but partly closed it as she looked at Emily.

  ‘I’ve called to see ’cook or ’housekeeper,’ she began, but the girl interrupted, ‘We don’t need anybody else.’

  ‘Mr Francis asked me to call,’ Emily said firmly. ‘He was going to speak for me.’

  The girl hesitated. ‘He particularly asked me to ask for Cook.’ Emily thought a small white lie wouldn’t harm.

  ‘Better come in then.’ She led her through a small lobby, then into a back room, where buckets and mops were hanging on the wall, and through another door into a large steamy kitchen, which was crowded with young maids, some in coarse aprons who were either mending the fire in the cooking range or scrubbing pans, and others who were dressed in grey with white aprons and caps and preparing trays with crockery, and several young men who seemed to be scurrying here and there, with either a silver teapot in their hands or a bucket of coal. Jane was standing with her back against a wall with a scared look upon her face, whilst a woman clad in a white apron and cap energetically rolled pastry on the table.

  ‘Mrs Castle!’ The girl hesitated. ‘There’s somebody to see you.’

  Cook didn’t look up from her task. ‘Who is it? You know I’m busy at this time.’

  ‘Emily Hawkins, Cook.’ Emily spoke up for herself. ‘Mr Francis said he would ask –.’

  ‘Aye, he did, but I don’t need anybody else in ’kitchen.’ She glanced up at Emily and put down her rolling pin. ‘I’ve just taken a maid on.’ She nodded over to where Jane was standing and then looked searchingly at Emily. ‘Who did you say you were? Are you from these parts?’

  ‘Emily Hawki
ns. I lived with a relation, Hannah Edwards, over near ’Humber bank. Only she’s just died and I’ve had to move out of ’house.’

  The cook sat down heavily on a wooden chair. ‘Ah! Aye, I heard she’d passed on. And what about ’lad? Samuel? Where’s he gone?’

  ‘Mr Francis got him work on one of his farms, but he’s living in ’cos Mr Francis wanted ’cottage back.’

  ‘Well aye, he would. It was a good little house.’ She breathed in heavily. ‘So what sort o’ relation are you? You’ve got ’family look.’

  Emily was surprised. She had her father’s colouring, fair skin and blond hair. Who else did she look like? ‘Granny Edwards was my father’s auntie,’ she explained yet again. ‘She looked after me when my da died, my ma and brother went to ’workhouse,’ she added in case she was asked.

  ‘I’ll speak to Mrs Brewer, she’s housekeeper.’ Cook got up from her chair and placed the pastry in a dish. ‘She can take you for upstairs if she’s a mind. She’s allus saying she hasn’t enough staff.’

  ‘Thank you. Shall I wait?’

  Cook looked up. ‘Janet!’ she called to the girl who had answered the door, ‘run upstairs and tell Mrs Brewer she’s wanted in ’kitchen as soon as she’s got a minute. And you, young woman,’ she signalled to Jane, ‘get your coat off and your apron on and start washing them pans.’

  Mrs Brewer agreed to take Emily. ‘You can start tomorrow. Be here for seven o’clock, you needn’t come earlier as you have a long way to travel, but every other day except on your days off, you’ll have to be up at five-thirty to clean the fireplaces and light the fires before the family are awake. Will that be a hardship? Are you used to getting up?’

  Emily smiled. ‘It won’t be a hardship, Mrs Brewer. I’m up at sunrise every morning. Thank you very much.’

  She waved goodbye to Jane and almost skipped down the drive. Her first position, with pay. Mrs Brewer had said she would get five shillings when she started tomorrow, the rest she would get at the end of the year. She would be given three grey dresses, white aprons, caps and stockings, and was expected to keep her boots clean and polished.