by Anna Jacobs
He clasped her hand in his for a moment. ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you. You must come and visit me whenever you’re in the village and I shall come and call on you when I’m recovered. And - I wish you well, my dear. May the good Lord keep you safe.’
In the hallway, Mistress Jenks picked up a loaded basket, covered with a white cloth, and handed it to Sarah. She waved aside any thanks and ushered the visitor politely but inexorably out of the door, saying, ‘For he’ll not settle till the house is quiet again, mistress.’
Will Pursley was waiting across the village green, with Sarah’s other purchases already loaded on his cart. After she’d paid Mistress Bell, he helped her up in silence and clicked to the horse to set off. Already the daylight was beginning to fade.
As they turned up the lane to Broadhurst, Molly slowed down to a walking pace to negotiate the ruts, seeming not to need her master’s guidance. He let the reins lie slack in his hands and looked sideways at Sarah. ‘Still determined to live here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then if I’m to stay on at the home farm, I’ll buy some cattle I’ve been offered. I didn’t dare do that till I knew how things stood.’
‘Mr Rogers speaks very highly of your ability as a farmer, sir. You must come and tell me how the rest of the estate stands and give me your advice.’
As they drew up outside the kitchen, she frowned, thinking aloud. ‘I believe I’ll need to hire another maidservant, one who can help me round the house and go shopping into the village on wet days. I’m afraid I’m a little slow at walking and cannot always be troubling you for a ride. Do you know of anyone suitable?’
Will, who was now unloading her purchases, swung round at her words. ‘A maidservant, did you say?’
‘Yes. But not a lady's maid, just a woman or girl who is not afraid of hard work and who will turn her hand to anything. Why do you ask? Do you know of someone looking for a place?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. She’s called Hannah Blair, and she’s the sister of one of my former cowmen. She’s a widow and hasn’t been in service before, but she’s a good worker. Her husband died recently - he was ploughman to Farmer Hotton, whose land lies outside the village on the Sawbury road - and she’s got to get out of the farm cottage. Hotton’s done his best for her, let her stay on there for an extra week or two till she finds something else, but he needs the cottage now for his new man. She’s tramped all over the place asking for work, but there’s none to be had. And she has a young daughter too, Hetty.’
‘'Can she not move to another district?’ Sarah didn’t feel able to hire two maids.
‘If she tries to move away from Broadhurst, the other parishes will send her back here, so that she doesn’t fall on their poor rates. And if she has to go into the poorhouse, they’ll sell off all her furniture and take her daughter away from her. They put all able-bodied children over five out into service, so as not to have the expense of feeding them.’
‘That’s cruel.’
‘Well, at least that way they eat better than they would in the poorhouse. I wouldn’t feed my pigs on what they give those poor wretches. Hannah’s terrified of going inside, but it’s a harsh world for a widow with no family to help her. In the old days, my family could have done something, but now . . ’ He shrugged.
Sarah chose her words carefully. ‘I would be happy to see this woman, if you let her know. How old is the child?’
‘I’m not sure. Nine or ten.’
‘I couldn’t pay the child any wages, but tell Mrs Blair to bring her daughter with her. The little girl could no doubt earn her keep by helping in small ways - if the woman seems suitable, that is.’ Sarah knew what it was like to be nearly destitute.
Once inside, she unpacked her purchases, listened to Mary oohing and aahing over such abundance, then limped slowly up to her room lighting her way with one of the new wax candles she’d purchased, since it was growing dark now. She caressed the banister rail as she went, revelling in the pleasure of having a whole house to herself. Inside her bedroom she put down the candle and laughed aloud for sheer joy, then sat down to rest her hip.
Eventually cold drove her back down to the kitchen. She sat before the fire and asked idly, 'Do you know a woman called Hannah Blair?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘What's she like?’
‘She’s a hard worker,’ Mary allowed, but her tone was not enthusiastic.
‘But . . ?’
‘Well . .. she’s a bit strange, mistress! One of they wandering preachers come round a few year ago and Hannah got took up by what he said. Though she did allus hev funny ideas, allus. She picked up some more from him, though. Used to drive her Jack wild beggin’ him to be saved in Christ, and he couldn’t do nothin’ to stop her. Once she decides on somethin’, that's that.
‘She goes over to Sawbury every month for a prayer meetin’ with some other dangy fools. Walks five mile there an’ five mile back, winter and summer. Jack wouldn’t let her take the child with her, but since he died, she’ve took Hetty every time. She won’t go to church in the village no more, but does her prayin’ by herself an’ sits a-readin’ of the Bible on Sundays. Tried to get other folk to join her, but they got more sense.’
She paused and looked at Sarah. ‘An’ thass why no one won’t employ her. They don’t like her prayin’ ways. Don’t like her sharp tongue, neither. She’ll say anythin’ to anyone, she will, if the spirit moves her. Told Mr Sewell once as he’d burn in hell. He threatened to hev her locked away in the madhouse, but that didn’t stop her. She just told him to his face she were only afraid of the wrath of the Lord, and that He would protect the righteous.’
Which defiance made Sarah rather inclined to like the woman.
Over their evening meal, she asked about growing their own food.
‘I know how to grow a few vegetables and things,’ said Mary, ‘but nothin’ fancy, like the gentry eat. Why don’t you talk to Daniel Macey about it? He lives down the back still in the gardener's cottage.’
‘Who is he? You didn’t say anything about him before!’
Mary shrugged. ‘Never thought. Don’t see much of him. That Mr Jamieson knows about him, but said to leave him be. Don’t pay no rent, Daniel don’t, but he d’prune the fruit trees for us an’ do a few other jobs around the gardens. He’s gettin’ old now, but he could still help out a bit, I dare say, if you wanted. An’ it’d break his heart if you turned him out!’
‘I’ve no intention of turning anyone out!’
Mary allowed herself a smile. ‘Daniel wouldn’t go, even if you did, I don’t suppose. When his wife died, his daughter wanted him to go an’ live with her, the one as married the miller in Sawbury - she’s very comfortably set up - but Daniel wouldn’t go to her. Says he’ll hang hisself afore he’ll go an’ live in a dirty old town. He would, too! So his daughter d’send him a bit o’ money every now an’ then, an’ she pays me to clean his cottage once in a while. I keep an eye on him too, so she gives me a shilling or two for that as well. Good gardener, he is, Daniel. Grow anything you can think of. But he’ll only do things his own way. Didn’t matter how much Old Master used to shout at him, Daniel’d go his own way.’
‘You must show me where he lives, so that I can ask for his help.’ Sarah sighed happily. ‘What a nice lot there is to do here!’
After she’d gone to bed, she lay awake for some time, contemplating it all with relish.
* * * *
In the middle of the following morning, there was a knock on the back door and Mary opened it to reveal Hannah Blair and her daughter Hetty. She took them through into the little parlour, where they’d lit a fire and which her new mistress was cleaning.
Sarah put her cloth down and wiped her hands on her pinafore. ‘Please sit down.’
Hannah sat bolt upright facing her. ‘Will Pursley said you was wanting to hire a maid of all work.’ She met Sarah’s eyes squarely and spoke politely, but there was nothing subservient in her tone. The little girl pres
sed close to her mother's side, staring about her, wide-eyed.
‘Yes. Won't you tell me about yourself and your daughter? I’m sorry about the state of this room. The whole house is thick with dust and cobwebs.’
‘Will Pursley told you that the Lord took my husband last month, I b’lieve, Mistress Bedham?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. My mother died last month, as well, so I can understand how you feel.’
Hannah bowed her head gravely. ‘May the Lord give you comfort, mistress, as He does me!’
'Thank you.’
‘And - did Will tell you that I’m one of Preacher Dawson’s congregation over in Sawbury? Best you should know now, for some folk don’t like Methodists.’
‘Mary told me that. Do your beliefs make any difference to your work?’
‘They d’make me work harder, I b’lieve. Honest work is a praise of the Lord.’
‘Then I don’t see that your beliefs need worry me. What you do in your own time is your own business. What sort of work can you do?’
‘Anything, Mistress. They d’reckon I’m a fair cook, an’ I like doing that best. But I don’t mind what I do, so long as ’tis honest toil.’
‘Work in the garden, scrub, go shopping in the village for me?’
‘Anything you wish, mistress. An’ I’m a quick learner as well, they say, if you should want me to do other things. I relish learning new skills, that I do.’
Sarah took another quick decision. ‘I must be as honest with you as you’ve been with me, Hannah. I couldn’t pay you much by way of wages at first. I’m rather short of money until my tenants recover from the cattle sickness and can pay their rents in full. I would feed you, though, and keep you clothed and make up the wages later.’
The woman’s reserve suddenly cracked. She gulped and tears appeared in her eyes. ‘You mean - you'll hire me?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind working under those conditions. What about your daughter? I should have no objections to her coming here with you. She could do small jobs in return for her food, and she could share your bedroom.’
Tears were falling fast down Hannah Blair's gaunt cheeks. ‘The Lord has indeed hearkened to my prayers,’ she said huskily. ‘And you'll never regret your generosity, Mistress, I promise you that.’
‘Not so generous,’ said Sarah, with a wry smile. ‘I shall expect you to work hard.’
‘You keep us together, mistress. That's generous. Most masters wouldn’t take a child as well. When shall we start?’
‘As soon as possible. Though you'll have to scrub out a room before there will be anywhere for you to sleep.’
Hannah stared at Sarah, then gave a decisive nod. ‘I think I shall be happy working for you. I’ll stay here for an hour or two now, to scrub out our room and that will give it time to dry properly.’
Joy shone in her eyes as she stood up. ‘Curtsey to your new mistress, Hetty.’
So, thought Sarah later, when Hannah had left her alone and gone off to choose a room in the servants’ quarters, she now had four servants, if you counted Petey and the child! It would be five if Daniel Macey agreed to continue helping in the gardens.
And two weeks ago, all she’d had in the world had been six shillings and five pence three farthings. What a miracle it all was! Surely she was meant to stay here!
Chapter 5
The next morning Sarah was cleaning out the small parlour, which she intended to use for her main sitting room. She was dressed in a loose-fitting round gown, which she had found in her grandmother's wardrobe. It was old-fashioned and rather short for her, but a boon for doing the dirty work. Her apron had been clean when she started the day, but was now distinctly grimy. She had tucked all her hair up in a mobcap, to protect it from the dust and was attacking the years’ accumulation of grime with savage delight.
When she heard horses canter up the driveway and a voice shout to Petey, ‘Get out of the way, imbecile!’, she went over to the window to see who had invaded her peace so rudely. She was in time to see a stout, red-faced gentleman dismount from his horse and toss the reins to his groom - none other than the man called Hugh, who had attacked her the other day. Of Petey, there was now no sign. He had doubtless run away to hide.
The visitor plied the knocker so vigorously as to demonstrate a total lack of respect for the owner. Sarah’s lips tightened in annoyance. How dared this man come and spoil her lovely day!
The knocker was thumped a second time and as there was no sign of Mary, Sarah decided to open the door herself. She was about to take off her apron and check her appearance in the mirror when the knocking began again, even more loudly. This made her so angry she limped across the hallway without further ado and flung open the front door.
The gentleman stormed in without waiting for an invitation. ‘Tell your mistress that Squire Sewell is here and see you answer the door more pertly in future! Well, what are you waiting for? Have you lost your wits, woman? Tell your mistress . . ’
Sarah made no attempt either to close the door or to move from where she stood. ‘Please leave my house at once, sir!’ she said icily. ‘You were not invited to enter and I am not receiving visitors until I am more settled!’
The look of astonishment on his face would have made her laugh had she not been so angry.
However, he was not long in recovering. ‘I must beg your pardon for mistaking your identity, madam, but,’ his eyes flickered scornfully over her dishevelled appearance, ‘you could hardly expect me to guess that you were a Bedham!’
‘It is a matter of perfect indifference to me what you do or do not guess,’ she retorted. ‘And I have asked you to leave my house!’
‘Your house! Your house! What maggot’s got into your brain, woman? You are no more fit to own a place like this,’ he eyed the hallway in a proprietorial manner, ‘than you are to receive a gentleman caller.’
‘As I have had no gentleman callers so far, I cannot be expected to judge that, but there is no doubt whatsoever that this is my house!’
His colour deepened and his expression grew even more angry. ‘You'd be advised to bridle that sharp tongue of yours, madam! I’m not used to being spoken to like that!’
‘If my manner offends you, the easiest solution is for you to leave my house and company.’ She spoke steadily, but her heart was thumping now. What if he refused to leave? She doubted she would be strong enough to throw him out physically, though she was almost angry enough to try. But his bully was still waiting outside and would doubtless come to his aid.
‘I see what your game is!’ Sewell exclaimed suddenly, thumping his thigh with the butt of his riding crop. ‘You hope to raise the price by pretending to live here. Well, it won’t work! No one else would want this ruin, so you'll have to sell to me in the end. The offer I made to that lawyer fellow was a fair one and I shall not raise it, so you may stop this farcical pretence at once! The house is as good as sold to me and you shall not go back on your word!’
It was a moment before she could frame a reply. ‘Have you run quite mad, sir? I haven’t accepted any offer for this house!’
‘I have a piece of paper here from what-d’ye-call-um, Jamieson, that lawyer fellow in London - written only last year and saying he was sure the new owner would be happy to accept my offer.’ He brandished a paper in her face.
By now, she was convinced it was a madman she was dealing with and was afraid he would offer her violence. From the dubious safety of the other side of the hall, she repeated as coolly as she could manage, ‘Mr Jamieson did suggest selling the house, but I told him I had no intention of doing so.’
Sewell’s face grew even redder and he began slapping the riding crop on the palm of one hand to emphasise his words. ‘You are trying my patience too far!’
‘And you are trying mine, sir. I repeat: please leave my house.’
‘How dare you speak to me like that? Who do you think you are?’ He stepped forward menacingly, the riding crop raised as if he would hit her. She looked round ha
stily for something to defend herself with.
A voice spoke at the back of the hallway. ‘Are you having trouble, Mistress Bedham?’ Will stepped out of the shadows to range himself at her side.
‘I might have known I’d find you here!’ exclaimed Sewell.
Sarah took a deep breath and resisted the temptation to clutch Mr Pursley’s arm. ‘I was just asking this - this gentleman to leave. He appears to be deaf.’
‘Nothing easier. You heard what the lady said, Sewell. The door is this way.’ Will moved forward, only to be slashed at with the crop.
‘Damn your impudence! Don’t you dare touch me! I’ll have you up before the magistrates for this!’
‘In which case, sir, I shall be happy to bear witness that Mr Pursley was protecting me and that you attacked him.’ Sarah stepped forward again.
‘You’ll regret this, both of you!’
Outside his bully moved forward, but at the crunching of feet on the gravel, Sewell looked quickly sideways and waved one hand to indicate that Hugh should stay back.
The more Sewell blustered, the calmer Will seemed to become. He folded his arms and waited, his expression menacing but restrained. ‘I could become a lot more impudent than that,’ he said softly, ‘given any further provocation.’
Sarah was afraid the dark fire burning in Will Pursley's eyes might lead him to do something rash, and stood ready to throw herself between the two men. However, after choking back some further insult and glaring at her, Sewell started to move towards the front door, covering his retreat with threats and bluster.
‘You shall hear from my lawyer, Mistress Bedham. Hah! Bedham, indeed! How do we know who you really are? I shall take the matter further! You’re probably an impostor, so it’s no use talking to you anyway. But you shall not cheat me of what is mine! A slut like you can have no connection with the Bedhams, whatever bits of paper you may have got hold of! I dare say you were a maidservant of theirs, if truth be told - or someone’s whore.’
As Will growled in his throat and took two hasty steps forward, Sarah grabbed his arm.
