She froze at the sound of Valentine’s voice. It was customary at Ennismore to light the fires even in unoccupied rooms in order to keep the house warm. Regardless of the previous night’s conversations she had not expected him to have already returned. She remained still, hoping that he might fall back to sleep. But instead she felt his hand on her shoulder.
‘Rosie?’
She swung around. ‘Go ahead, laugh!’ she said. ‘Everybody else is. Yes, it’s me, Rosie, servant girl, skivvy, down on my knees lighting your fire.’
Valentine took a step back. ‘I don’t understand, Rosie. Why – why are you . . . ?’
Rosie stood up and faced him squarely, dusting her hands on her apron.
‘Bridie took sick and I had to take her place,’ she said, her face upturned in defiance.
‘Is she all right?’ said Valentine flustered.
‘The doctor says it will be a while.’
‘But – was there no alternative? Surely it was not necessary for you to do this?’
He looked down in bewilderment at the bucket of ashes Rosie held and then back at her. His obvious shock fuelled her embarrassment. She was determined not to let him see it, although she could not stop her cheeks from burning.
‘Hard work is nothing to be ashamed of. And no, there was no choice. Bridie needed me to keep her place for her, and my family needed the wages. We don’t have pots of gold like some people.’
Still looking mystified, Valentine sat down on the bed and scratched his head. He wore his pyjamas, and his blond hair was tousled from sleep. Rosie thought he looked very young.
‘Please,’ he said, ‘can you take a walk with me?’
‘No. I’ve work to do.’
‘Later, then? When you have completed your duties?’
‘I’ve no time off ’till Wednesday afternoon.’
‘I see. Well I shall meet you at the stables on Wednesday. Perhaps we can go riding.’
‘And where would I be getting a horse? I’m not the gentry.’
‘I can arrange for one,’ he said quietly.
‘Fair enough,’ said Rosie.
They stared at each other for another moment, then gritting her teeth she stooped and reached under his bed to pull out the chamber pot.
‘Please, Rosie,’ he whispered, ‘please leave that alone.’
At one o’clock on Wednesday afternoon Rosie stood near the stables waiting for him. She had wrestled with herself for several days as to whether or not she should go. She yearned to see him again – to pick up their friendship where they had left off before Victoria’s departure. But she could hear the warning bells clanging in her head. She remembered Brendan’s question: ‘whose side are you on?’ If she met Valentine, would she be choosing the gentry’s side? She knew that would be a terrible mistake. Hadn’t she begun to see her place clearly in the last few weeks? A voice deep inside told her she was setting herself up for trouble. She should turn away now and run to the safety of her cottage.
‘There you are.’
It was too late. Valentine approached her. He looked so handsome with his warm smile and wide, blue eyes, that she felt all resolve melt. He carried some clothing over his arm.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘I realized you would need a riding costume, so I brought one of Victoria’s. I hope it will fit you.’
Rosie looked down at her grey maid’s dress and white apron and blushed.
‘I’m sure it will,’ she said reaching for the clothes. ‘Victoria used to lend me hers all the time.’
‘Good,’ said Valentine. ‘Go and change and I’ll see the groom about a horse for you.’
Rosie ran into one of the empty horse stalls to change. Her heart beat fast. She knew everyone would disapprove but at the moment she didn’t care. She was going riding with Valentine and that was all that mattered.
The groom helped her up on her favourite gelding and tightened the stirrups. When she was young she had ridden her da’s old farm horse without a saddle, her legs astride his thick back. She had encouraged Victoria to ride astride a horse as well, although Lord Ennis had put a stop to it. She smiled now, thinking back on it, ignoring the groom’s questioning stare as she threw her leg across the saddle.
Valentine trotted up next to her on Phaedon, his fine, chestnut stallion. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Race you to the woods.’
They set out across the vast pasture that surrounded the house and made for the woods in the distance. Rosie was well able to keep up with him so he had no need to slow down for her. As she galloped, joy swept over her. She was free. She rode the gelding hard, jumping over fences and ditches as she raced across the fields, Valentine in hot pursuit. She had never ridden with such fierceness before, but now the faster she went the farther her troubles fell behind her. She was outrunning them, and the thought sped her on towards recklessness.
‘Slow down, Rosie,’ Valentine shouted from behind her.
Her gelding frothed with exertion and Rosie knew she should slow her pace, but she could not help herself. On she rode until at last her horse shuddered to a stop in front of a ditch and she almost somersaulted over his head. Valentine rode up beside her, breathing hard, and looking angry.
‘That’s no way to treat a horse and you know it. What’s wrong with you?’
Rosie dismounted and looked at him sheepishly.
‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.’ She stroked the panting horse’s head. ‘I’m sorry, Gideon,’ she whispered.
Valentine dismounted and tied up both horses to a nearby fence. He held his hand out to Rosie and she took it. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s walk to your favourite place.’
Rosie’s favourite place was the fairy fort in the woods where she had played as a child. She had first shown it to Victoria and told her about the little people who lived below the ground and who should not be disturbed. Later, when Valentine rode out with them, Victoria had brought him there, and afterwards it became the best-loved destination of all three on summer rides. Rosie sat down on a flat rock beneath an oak tree and Valentine joined her. Sunlight pierced through the branches, throwing patterns on the forest floor. A stranger might have thought this a quiet place, but as a country girl Rosie had learned to listen to all the sounds around her. Birds sang and a light breeze whispered through the leaves, and rabbits scurried in the undergrowth. In the distance she could hear the seabirds calling from the lake. She was sure she could hear the fairies chattering below, but when she had mentioned this once to Valentine and Victoria they had shaken their heads and said they could hear nothing.
‘Maybe you have to be Irish,’ she had said.
‘But I am Irish,’ they had both answered in unison.
Now, as they sat together like old friends, Rosie leaned her head against Valentine’s shoulder. She had never dared be this forward before, but she was exhausted after the ride, and in need of comfort. All the troubles she had tried to put in the past came flooding back. She sank down into helplessness.
‘What am I to do, Valentine?’ she said. ‘What is to become of me?’
Valentine held her hand. ‘It will be all right, Rosie,’ he said. ‘Your sister will be well soon, and Victoria will be back, and everything will be as it was.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘No, it won’t, Valentine. It will never be the same as before.’
Valentine sighed and said nothing.
‘Even Victoria and I won’t be friends in the same way,’ she said, voicing a new dread that was welling in her. ‘She has only written to me once, and even in her letter I could see how she is beginning to change.’
‘She’s busy, Rosie. You should have seen all the teas and parties I accompanied her to. And the summer is only half over. There are balls still to come, and a trip to London, and—’
‘Sure I know all that,’ put in Rosie. ‘That’s what I mean. Before, we shared every new adventure together. But now she’s part of a new world that I know nothing about. We have nothing l
eft in common.’
‘Nonsense. You have your childhood friendship.’
‘But we’re no longer children,’ said Rosie.
When they rode back into the stables, Brendan was waiting for them. Rosie was surprised to see him. Had he been spying on her? He gave her a pitying look as he helped her dismount.
‘You’re to see Mr Burke,’ he said. He moved closer to her. ‘The groom told him you had gone out riding with Master Valentine. I tried to tell Mr Burke the groom was mistaken, but he said others had seen yez as well.’ He sighed. ‘You know everybody here has eyes in the backs of their heads.’
‘What does he want?’ said Rosie.
Brendan shook his head. ‘I think you know, Rosie girl.’
He was right, of course. She knew exactly what was coming. She and Valentine exchanged looks but said nothing. Rosie turned and followed Brendan to Mr Burke’s quarters.
‘It is not proper, Miss Killeen, not proper at all.’ Mr Burke’s expression was stern as he looked up at her from behind his desk. ‘You must remember your place. You are no longer Miss Victoria’s young companion with free run of the estate and access to her brothers. You are a servant in their house, and as such you shall act accordingly. In the future, you will not avail yourself of Mr Valentine’s company, nor that of his brother, Thomas. You will speak only if a member of the Bell family addresses you first, and even then your head must be bowed and your answer short. Otherwise you are to make yourself invisible. Is that clear?’
Rosie could not bring herself to answer. Inside, resentment warred with her good sense. She wanted to lash out at him, to make him see the unfairness of his words, to make him understand. Instead, she clenched her fists and nodded.
CHAPTER 7
By August, Bridie’s health had greatly improved. She was able to take walks outside without growing short of breath, and help Ma with the housekeeping. She was anxious to get back to her job at Ennismore but the doctor insisted she stay home for another fortnight.
‘There’s no rush, Bridie,’ Ma said. ‘Sure Rosie’s doing a fine job up there, and she’s been giving us part of her wages, just like you did. Let her stay on for another while so.’
Bridie scowled. ‘She might get to liking it too much. Then where would I be?’
‘No fear of that,’ said Ma. ‘I’d say she’ll run as fast as she can out of there as soon as she gets the chance. She’s a great girl to have stood it as long as she has.’
Bridie was not about to show her gratitude. ‘She’s getting paid for it, isn’t she?’
Her wages were the one bright spot in Rosie’s life. She had been able to put a little money aside since she began working. It was not enough to get her very far but it was a start. Apart from that, the drudgery and humiliation were as bad as ever. She had heeded Mr Burke’s orders not to go near Valentine. She explained the situation to him the following morning as she lit the fire in his room.
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ he said. ‘How can he tell you what to do in your free time?’
‘You’re the one being ridiculous. You of all people should know how it is between your lot and the servants.’ Rosie’s tone was bitter.
‘Our lot?’
‘Yes, your lot.’ Rosie could not hide her frustration. ‘We’re no more than furniture to you. We’re not to be seen or heard. Think about how you treat the other servants. I’d bet you don’t even know their names.’
Without realizing it, Rosie had begun to see the lot of a servant very clearly. In the past, when Bridie had told stories and complained, Rosie had paid little attention. But now that she was in that role herself she saw how miserable and restricted their lives were, and while she still had not accepted that she belonged in their world, a new understanding and compassion had replaced her former resentment.
‘They don’t matter to me. You do.’ Valentine paused. ‘At least we can meet here every day,’ he said, ‘where there’s nobody to spy on us.’
‘You don’t give up, do you? For your information, Mr Burke has thought of that and starting tomorrow the young maid, Thelma, will be taking care of your room.’
‘Who’s she?’ said Valentine.
Rosie would have laughed if she hadn’t been so upset. Valentine had just proved the point she made to him about not knowing the servants.
‘Goodbye, Valentine,’ she said as she turned away to leave the room.
Without warning he grabbed her by the waist and swung her around. He leaned over and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She was so surprised she almost dropped the bucket of ashes she held. She pulled away abruptly.
‘For God’s sake, Valentine, what am I just after telling you?’
‘You’re not getting rid of me so easily, Rosie.’
As she climbed down the back stairs, Rosie experienced a confused mixture of elation and embarrassment. She had so often imagined what it would be like to have Valentine kiss her – but always it was in the garden in moonlight, or by the fairy fort in the woods – she never imagined it would be in his room with a bucket full of ashes in her hand. But he had kissed her.
‘Ah, Valentine,’ she said to herself, ‘why d’you have to go and make things so hard?’
The week before Bridie was to come back to work, Lady Ennis and Victoria returned to Ennismore unexpectedly. It was not unlike Lady Ennis to do such a thing. According to the servants it was her way of keeping them all on their toes. It happened so suddenly that Rosie had no time to prepare herself for her first encounter with Victoria. She wedged herself in behind a curved stairway out of sight of the main hallway. From there she could see Mrs Murphy and Mr Burke almost knocking one another over to reach the front door. Immelda Fox entered first, looking no happier than the day she left. The Season had not done much to improve her temperament, Rosie thought. Next came Lady Ennis, shouting orders to everyone within earshot.
Then Victoria arrived. Rosie drew in a deep breath. She hardly recognized her friend. She appeared to have grown several inches, but that may have been because her carriage was so erect, or the feathers on her hat so tall, Rosie couldn’t be sure. What she was sure of, even from this distance, was that the girl had changed. In fact, she was no longer a girl, but an elegant young lady. Rosie suddenly felt awkward and coarse. She flattened herself behind the stairs until Victoria had passed.
That evening, in the servants’ hall, Sadie Canavan took centre stage with all the gossip.
‘Lady Louisa is fit to be tied they’re back so soon. She’d really enjoyed having the house to herself. There’s no love lost between them two sisters, I’ll tell you that.’
Mr Burke cleared his throat, but Sadie ignored him.
‘And on top of that, she says Miss Victoria is not long for staying. It seems she wants to go to London to visit some of her new friends, and she needs a chaperone, and Lady Louisa is marked for the job. I almost feel sorry for her ladyship. Sure she has no life of her own at all.’
Mr Burke cleared his throat again, but before he could call Sadie to order she started up again, this time looking directly at Rosie.
‘According to Lady Louisa, Victoria’s new friends are of her own class – you know – the gentry. Oh, and she says she has to have her own maid now, and she must be addressed as Lady Victoria. I was afraid at first I’d have to do for her as well as me other work but thank God she’s insisting on a maid of her own. It might be a good job for you, Rosie, now that Bridie’s coming back.’
There was silence around the table. Mr Burke bowed to say grace. The others fixed their eyes on Rosie as they murmured the prayer. Rosie turned scarlet. She felt sick to her stomach. Victoria’s maid? Hadn’t she been humiliated enough? She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile.
‘I’m sure Miss Victoria would want a maid more experienced than me. Sure I’m just a plain country girl. She’ll want someone who knows all the latest fashions and hairstyles. I’m sure she’s already picked one in London.’
It took every ounce of courage Rosie had to stay
and eat her dinner as if nothing had happened. She chewed her food, giving no trace of her anxiety. Brendan stared at her. She thought she saw pity in his eyes and the anger it caused saw her through until the meal finished. She did not rush from the table as she would normally do, knowing she would be the subject of their speculation. She would not give them the satisfaction.
Later, as she lay in bed ignoring Sadie’s stream of chatter, she thought about Victoria. Would she be so insensitive as to ask her to become her maid? Would she not realize how much it would hurt her? But there again, by next week Bridie would be back and Rosie would be out of a job. No, she thought. No. Even if I was out on the bog starving for a crust of bread I would never subject myself to such shame.
‘But it’s a perfect plan, don’t you see, Rosie?’ Victoria said the next morning. ‘We could still share each other’s company, and our secrets, just like before.’
Rosie stood beside the fire and stared at her friend. She no longer knew this girl who sat across from her in the drawing room of Ennismore. Oh, she looked the same, all right, beautiful as always, more beautiful, in fact. Her blonde hair was coiled on the top of her head like ropes of honey and her blue eyes were clear as the lake that glittered beyond the window. But Rosie felt a distance between them that was never there before.
Victoria pressed on. ‘I am delighted I thought of it. My friends and I intend to spend some time abroad. Just think what it will be like for us to see Paris and Rome together and . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rosie, looking down at her worn-out boots. ‘I just can’t do it. I’d think you could understand.’
‘Explain it to me then.’ Victoria’s tone was impatient. ‘Explain why you are refusing such a wonderful opportunity. Why are you being so ungrateful?’
Rosie turned away, fighting back tears. How could she explain to this girl who had been her closest friend the hurt and humiliation she was feeling? She searched for the right words but all the bottled up frustration tumbled out in spite of her. She felt like a child wrongly accused of some misdeed.
The Girls of Ennismore Page 7
