‘Yes, but the last Mrs King were a timid little thing who wouldn’t say boo to a goose,’ Cook pointed out. ‘If truth be told, I used to feel a bit sorry for her. The master had her well and truly under his thumb. But from what you’ve said, happen the new bride has a bit more spirit and won’t be so easily ruled.’
‘Just so long as she doesn’t try to interfere with how I run things.’ Mrs Wood sniffed, and sailed away to her private sitting room to make herself a cup of tea and lick her wounds. The new mistress had already rubbed her up the wrong way, and she had a feeling that things were about to change – and not for the better!
After a light snack, Opal went up to see her new bedroom. The walls were covered in a deep-burgundy flock paper and with the heavy velvet curtains that hung at the windows, she found it very dark and dismal.
‘So, what do you think of our room?’ Henry asked.
Opal tried to be tactful. ‘It’s, um . . . a little dark for my taste, to be honest.’ And then as a thought occurred to her, she asked tentatively, ‘Was this the room you shared with your late wife, Henry?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, it was. She died giving birth in that very bed, as it happens.’
When Opal shuddered, he looked concerned. Such things didn’t trouble him, but they clearly did her and things were strained enough between them as it was. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Opal took a deep breath. ‘I do, I’m afraid. Is there not another room we could have, or perhaps we could have a room each, if you wish to continue sleeping in here?’
Her hopes of that happening were dashed when he shook his head. ‘Our own rooms? Fresh off honeymoon? Why, the staff would have a field day with that. Can you imagine what they would say? However, there is another room of equal size at the back of the house, if you’d prefer that?’
‘I think I would,’ Opal answered, and so he led her along the long landing to a room that overlooked the garden. Opal looked around the room, it was a good size but the wallpaper was somewhat faded.
‘Perhaps we could have it decorated?’ she suggested.
Just for a moment, his lips set in a grim line. Henry was a wealthy man, but all that knew him knew that he would never part with a penny if a ha’penny would do. Even so, he still had hopes of moulding Opal into the woman he had expected, so he nodded.
‘I dare say that would be acceptable. I shall instruct a decorator to bring some wallpaper samples for you to look at.’
She smiled – really smiled for the first time in days. ‘Wonderful, and perhaps we could have some new furniture too? This is very heavy and outdated.’
He sighed. ‘Very well, but we shall have to stay in the other room while all this is being done.’
Opal nodded her agreement and they went back to the other room to wash and change for dinner.
Thankfully, there was no sign of Mrs Wood for the rest of that evening and as they made their way to bed Henry told Opal, ‘I’m afraid I shall have to return to work tomorrow, my dear.’
‘Of course, you must. I quite understand.’ Opal tried hard to hide her elation.
‘However, should you wish to shop or visit my mother the small carriage is at your disposal and Jenkins has orders to take you wherever you wish to go.’ Jenkins was the groom who lived above the stables at the back of the house.
‘Perhaps you could send out some visiting cards for ladies to attend morning tea or afternoon coffee here with you?’ Henry suggested.
Opal refrained from answering. From what she had seen of many of Mrs King’s visitors, the majority of the women were terrible snobs.
‘Actually, I think I might quite enjoy having a few days here acquainting myself with the house and the staff.’
‘As you wish, my dear.’
It felt strange getting ready for bed in the bedroom where Henry’s first wife and baby had died, but the thought left her mind once they had climbed between the sheets and Henry again demanded his rights. She lay passively, staring up at the flickering shadows on the ceiling, and thankfully it was soon over.
His mother was right, Opal thought, when Henry lay snoring beside her. This is a part of marriage that women must endure. But surely there should be more to it than this? Having come from a family that lived in a very small cottage she had sometimes heard her parents making love, and her mother had always sounded as if she was enjoying it as much as her father – so why did she herself feel nothing? she wondered. Perhaps it was because she didn’t love him? Again, she wished she could turn the clock back and decline his proposal. Things had to improve or she didn’t know how she would bear it.
Opal spent the next day relaxing. Henry was home in time for dinner but once the meal was over, he told her, ‘I’m so sorry, my dear, but I have to go out this evening. I have clients to see.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ she assured him. If truth be told, she would have liked him to go out every night.
Once he had left, Opal retired to bed early with a book, but she found it hard to rest and decided that she would speak to Henry about having their new room decorated as soon as possible. She just couldn’t relax lying in a dead woman’s bed. Eleven o’clock came around and still there was no sign of Henry and soon Opal slipped into an uneasy doze. She was woken when he barged into the room smelling strongly of whisky and she peeped fearfully over the covers at him. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece she was surprised to see that it was after midnight, but she had no time to say anything because Henry was clearly in a very happy mood.
‘Here she is waiting for me, my little bride,’ he chuckled, almost falling over as he tried to take his trousers off. Seconds later they sailed over his shoulder as he righted himself. ‘Have you mished me?’
Opal sighed. He was drunk again and she knew only too well what that would mean, and she lay back and closed her eyes as he pawed at her. This time, he was very rough with her, and she knew she would be bruised in the morning. But what can I do? She had married him for better or for worse. The trouble was, she was still waiting for the better.
‘I’m sorry, but I think when you are going out you should retire to your own room when you get home so as not to disturb me,’ she told him primly over breakfast the next morning.
Henry glared at her. ‘We are husband and wife,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘And that means we shall share a bed until I say otherwise.’
The rest of the meal was passed in silence and when he left for work shortly after Opal breathed a sigh of relief.
However, her relief was short-lived. Very soon, she began to feel bored as she wandered about inspecting each room. There was actually quite a lot she would have liked to change in each one, but already she understood her husband enough to know that she would have to take things easy. What do ladies of leisure do with themselves all day? she wondered. She had thought her life was easy as a lady’s maid to Henry’s mother, but she still had plenty to occupy her, but now she was feeling at a loose end.
And then a thought occurred to her. Perhaps it was time to stake her claim as the mistress here? And she would start by telling Mrs Wood that she would plan the menus for the forthcoming week. She would also do what her husband had suggested and send out some visiting cards inviting ladies to morning tea.
Taking a deep breath, she went downstairs ready to do battle, for she had a feeling that Mrs Wood was not going to welcome any interference whatsoever.
‘Ah, Mrs Wood.’ The lady in question was just crossing the hallway when Opal got to the bottom of the stairs. ‘I thought perhaps I would plan the menus for the forthcoming week?’
Mrs Wood’s lips set in a grim line as she joined her hands primly at her waist. ‘There will be no need for that, Mrs King,’ she answered, trying to keep her voice civil. ‘I know exactly what the master prefers and have planned the menus for some long time now.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Opal told her with a courage she was far from feeling. ‘But now I feel as I am mistress here, I should be taking some of the
household chores from your shoulders. So . . . shall we go into the day room while I decide what we should have?’
Mrs Wood took a deep breath and for a moment Opal feared she was going to explode but then with a curt nod of her head she followed Opal into the day room where they sat together while Opal planned the meals.
‘I think on Monday we shall have braised beef for the main course.’
‘We usually have chicken on Monday,’ Mrs Wood pointed out, barely able to contain her displeasure.
Ignoring her comment, Opal smiled and continued, ‘And I think we shall have lamb for the main course on Tuesday.’
Once it was done, Mrs Wood took the sheet of paper from Opal and sailed out of the room, her full skirts billowing about her like the sails of a ship, and Opal heaved a huge sigh of relief. She had taken the first steps towards showing the woman that she intended to be the mistress here. All she had to do now was keep it up, but she sensed that this was not going to be easy.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was early in September and at last the new bedroom was ready to move in to. The dark, heavy wallpaper had been replaced by a pale-blue silk, complemented by navy curtains, a light-blue carpet and furniture in a pretty rosewood that made the room feel light and airy.
‘Do you like it?’ Opal asked Henry, when he returned home from work that evening. The maid had transferred all their clothes into the two new armoires that afternoon, and there was a fire burning brightly in the marble fireplace.
‘To be truthful I find the blue somewhat cold.’ Henry was appalled at what the room had cost.
‘Really? I find it bright and airy. And I know I shall be happier sleeping in here.’
‘In that case, I dare say I shall get used to it,’ Henry said begrudgingly.
‘Of course, on the nights when you visit your club and you are home late you could always sleep in your own room?’ Opal suggested hopefully and was rewarded when Henry nodded his agreement.
‘I dare say I could.’ Already he had discovered that Opal was not the compliant little wife he had expected her to be, but he still had high hopes of her giving him a son and so he was prepared to keep her happy; for now at least. ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he said, as he remembered something. ‘I shall be giving a dinner party next week. There will be twelve people including ourselves on Friday evening. Could you arrange the menu with Mrs Wood?’
‘Of course. May I ask who is invited?’
‘I don’t believe you will have met many of them except very briefly at the wedding. They are mainly work colleagues – magistrates and such – although you may remember Peter Dawson-Myers and his wife, Emma. Oh, and Matthew and Alicia Darby-Jones from London will be coming too. They are here on a visit to Peter for a week with their daughter.’
Opal’s heart did a little jerk as she remembered gliding around the dance floor in Matthew’s arms, but she said nothing.
This would be the first dinner party they had hosted since their marriage. They had attended a few at other people’s homes, and although the hostesses had always been icily polite, Opal was sure that they felt Henry had married far beneath himself. She also had a good idea why. Esther Partridge had dripped poison whenever they met at a social event, and Opal was convinced she was the reason why everyone she had so far invited for morning tea or afternoon coffee had politely declined. If truth be known, Opal was not that concerned and had only sent the invites out because Henry had wished her to. She could think of far better ways to spend her time than to have to pander to these spoiled ladies. Luckily, apart from Mrs Wood, who also never lost an opportunity to belittle her, Opal got on well with the rest of the staff, particularly Eve, the young maid who was only a year younger than herself. And so, all in all life was bearable – but only just. Now, however, she would have something to focus on and she intended to make this dinner party something people would talk about long after it was over.
‘Will you be going to your club this evening?’ she enquired, and Henry nodded. He seemed to go out more and more in the evening of late – not that Opal was complaining, for as she had suggested, he now slept in his old room if he came home late and that suited her down to the ground.
‘Er . . . yes.’ He flashed an apologetic smile before saying, ‘And may I ask, is there any sign of an addition to the family as yet?’
Opal blushed. She had just started her monthly course. ‘No . . . I’m afraid not.’
He sighed and continued with his meal, while Opal counted the minutes until he was gone and she could relax and have the evening to herself. Admittedly there were times when she felt terribly lonely, but even that was preferable to having Henry at home pawing at her like a dog to a bitch in heat.
After the dining room had been cleared and Henry had gone, she decided to go for a short walk.
‘It’s hardly seemly for a lady in your position to be seen walking the streets alone of an evening,’ Mrs Wood said disapprovingly, as Opal put on her bonnet and coat. It seemed that there were many things that were unseemly for a married woman, but Opal didn’t care.
‘Please don’t concern yourself, Mrs Wood.’ Opal drew herself up to her full height. ‘I merely need a breath of fresh air and I shan’t be gone for long.’
The woman turned with a toss of her head, and with a wink at her, Eve opened the door to let Opal out into the chilly night air.
She had not gone far when she became aware of someone following her and, stopping beneath one of the gas lamps, she turned hurriedly to look behind her – only to find a rather mangy-looking dog who was limping badly and looking up at her hopefully.
‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Opal was instantly sympathetic. He was clearly a stray and was so thin that she could see his ribs through his patchy fur coat. He stopped beside her and unable to stop herself she bent to stroke him. ‘I’m afraid I have no food to give you,’ she apologised and he gave a little wag of his tail as he stared up at her trustingly from limpid, velvet-brown eyes. It was then that she made a decision. ‘Come along.’ She fondled his floppy ears. ‘I shall take you home with me and feed you. How would you like that?’
His tail wagged again as if he understood what she was saying, and when she turned about to retrace her steps, he limped along beside her. It was only then that she began to worry. Mrs Wood would have a fit when she took this poor dirty little creature back to the house. But then, I am the mistress there, she told herself, so Mrs Wood can like it or lump it!
When she arrived at the house, she took the back entrance leading to the stable yard and the back door. The cook and Eve, who was washing pots at the sink, looked up in surprise when she came into the kitchen.
‘Crikey, ma’am, that were a quick walk. Did you . . . ?’ Eve’s voice trailed away as she stared at the mutt who crept into the kitchen behind her mistress.
‘This poor little thing is starving,’ Opal told the women. ‘You haven’t thrown the scraps from dinner away yet, have you?’
‘No, ma’am. They’re all scraped on to that plate on the table there. I was just about to put them in the pig bin for the pig man to collect.’
To the women’s amazement, Opal took the plate and set it in front of the dog, who wolfed it down within seconds.
‘Eeh! The poor little mite.’ Eve’s eyes filled with tears as she saw the state of the creature. ‘He’s been through the wars an’ no mistake. It looks like someone’s hit him with a belt, look.’ She pointed the welts on his back. ‘He’s been beaten and starved an’ all by the look of it.’
Opal noticed the scars on his back for the first time and chewed on her lip. How could she turn him back out into the cold? He clearly had nowhere to go.
Making a hasty decision she told them, ‘I’m going to keep him!’
‘What?’ The cook looked horrified. ‘Eeh, are yer sure, ma’am? I reckon the master will have somethin’ to say about that. Not to mention Mrs Wood!’
As if speaking her name had conjured her up by magic, Mrs Wood suddenly appe
ared from the hallway and stared at the animal in horror.
‘And what is this?’ Her voice was clipped, but Opal knew now more than ever that she had to stand her ground if she were ever to stake her claim as the mistress of the house.
‘I would have thought that was quite obvious, Mrs Wood.’ Her voice was as icy as the housekeeper’s as she stared calmly back at her. ‘It’s a dog – a poor stray dog who has been severely mistreated – with nowhere to go . . . And so, I intend to give him a home.’
Mrs Wood’s face turned an alarming shade of red. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, ma’am. The master would never allow it. And anyway, it is too unhygienic. Ugh, I have no doubt it’s covered in fleas and carrying all manner of diseases.’
‘That can be remedied. I intend to give him a good bath and in the morning I shall get the veterinary surgeon to come out and inspect him and I’ll make him better. But make no bones about it: this is my house and I say he stays!’
Mrs Wood looked as if she was in danger of bursting a blood vessel as her face turned from red to purple. ‘Then . . . I insist if the cur must stay that he lives in the stable block.’
‘He will stay in the kitchen.’
The two women eyed each other like opponents in a boxing ring.
Mrs Wood seemed lost for words for a moment – but then, containing her rage, she nodded. ‘Very well, ma’am. It shall be as you wish.’ And with that she stormed from the room so fast that she almost tripped over her skirts.
‘Eeh, I reckon you’ve upset her good an’ proper,’ Cook said worriedly.
Opal shrugged. ‘It couldn’t be avoided. Eve, would you fetch the tin bath in? I think he’ll look and feel a lot better when we get all these layers of dirt off him.’
‘I certainly will, an’ I’ll help yer bath him an’ all, ma’am,’ Eve answered enthusiastically, as she headed for the back door to drag the tin bath in from outside.
An hour later, the dog was almost unrecognisable. Beneath the layers of dirt, his coat was a light tan colour and he had the sweetest nature. His ears were long and he had a curly tail, although it was impossible to tell what breed he might have been. Cook had found him a blanket to lie on by the fire and after another meal he curled up contentedly and was fast asleep in seconds.
The Winter Promise Page 27
