by Val Wood
Christy introduced me to some of his friends. There was William Brown, whom he always called Billy Brown butcher boy – Billy’s a handsome lad, broad-shouldered with thick brown hair, and blue eyes with long lashes – and Henry Johnson the farrier’s son, whom he named Harry Farrier. I realized then that he had nicknames for all of us, for I was always Jenny kitchen-maid.
There were times when he was away, and I was out doing errands or on my afternoon off, that I would bump into Billy or Harry and we would exchange the time of day, and Billy in particular, if he was free from his father’s shop, would ask me to go for a walk, and sometimes I would and sometimes I wouldn’t. It would depend. There were occasions when I thought I could smell the blood of the animals on him and see a dark red stain on his hands, and then I would shake my head and say that I had to get back to the house. He would gaze at me from his deep blue eyes and look rather sad as if he knew the reason why, so I would make a point of waving to him the next time I passed the butcher’s shop.
Harry never asked me to go for a walk: he was much too shy, which was a pity for I might have done. He was small, not much taller than me, wiry like the terrier that was always at his feet. I liked the smell of him, of leather and horse and hot singeing iron. He didn’t talk much but when he did, he spoke solely of horses who were his one and only love. He even looked a bit like a horse, I thought, with his long thin nose and dark eyes.
Christy’s parents decided to give a party for his eighteenth birthday. Lots of wealthy young men and many pretty marriageable young ladies would be specially invited, for although Christy was too young to be married I overheard his mother say that the time had come for him to assess who was eligible and who was not. “It’s never too early to start looking and planning,” she said. “We must discover if any of these young women will make a suitable wife and mother to future Ingrams.”
I had been standing against the wall waiting whilst Mr and Mrs Ingram, Christy and his sister were having luncheon, and at her words I felt myself grow hot and then almost immediately turn cold and shivery. I hadn’t ever thought of his getting married, and as my eyes looked towards Christy his turned to me and I was struck by how soulful and lost he seemed. I straightened my back, for I was very aware of Polly standing at the other side of the room where she could see my face, and she never missed a trick didn’t Polly.
“I’ll not get married for years, Mama,” Christy exclaimed and I was surprised by the anger in his voice. “I’m much too young. Another ten at least.”
His father agreed, barking out, “He must decide on a career first. Banking, perhaps, or the law.”
Again Christy glanced at me as if looking for support, but of course I couldn’t give it. I wasn’t even supposed to be listening, but I heard him say clearly enough, “Neither of those things, Father. I haven’t yet decided what to do. I might even travel abroad for a while.”
“But you might meet a foreign lady and bring her home.” His mother was all of a twitter at the notion. “We couldn’t have that, Christy. Not here!”
They finished their luncheon then, and Polly and I moved to clear away and as I reached for Christy’s plate, he brushed his fingers against my wrist as if reassuring me, and I knew that he would come downstairs to the kitchen as soon as he was able.
He came down later in the afternoon and sat on the edge of Cook’s table swinging his leg and munching on an apple. “What do you think, Clara Cook?” he asked. “Have you heard?”
“Heard? I never hear anything, Master Christy. I’m as deaf as can be.” Cook was the only one who still referred to him as Master.
“Mama wants me to think on marriage. I’m too young, don’t you think? What say you, Jenny kitchen-maid?”
“I’m no longer a kitchen maid, sir,” I said. “I’m upstairs now. Tilly is ’kitchen maid.”
He got up from the table and grabbing hold of me, whirled me around. “You’ll always be Jenny kitchen-maid to me.” He had a big grin on his face and I thought how merry he was now, even though he had been so cross over luncheon. “Jenny upstairs maid doesn’t have the same ring!”
“Put her down, Master Christy.” Cook was severe with him. “It doesn’t do to be so frivolous with servants. You’ll give the girl ideas above her station.”
Polly sniffed and looked down her long nose. “I’d guess she has them already,” and I knew that she had somehow seen that look or sensed the mood between Christy and me.
Later in the day when Polly was serving tea and Cook and I were in the kitchen, Cook humphed and cleared her throat and said, “I’ve something to say to you, Jenny.” She waved a finger at me. “Don’t think because Master Christy is so friendly like, that he’s just ’same as us. Because he isn’t.”
“I know that, Cook.” I kept my eyes on the pile of napkins that I had been folding. “Why would you want to remind me? Just because he was larking about!”
“Well sometimes you young lasses get ideas – aye, and sometimes, young gentlemen do as well, even nice young men like Master Christy.” Again she shook a finger. “But I’m telling you that no good ever came of it. Servants and gentry just don’t mix.”
Of course I knew that she was wrong, but I couldn’t say so and the moment passed with my resolve to be extra careful, for now Christy was home we saw each other most days.
We prepared for the party, which was to be in three weeks’ time. The house was given an extra cleaning, though it always seemed very clean to me. The marble mantelshelf in the drawing room was washed with soapy water and polished, and the iron grate black-leaded until it shone. The hall floor was given an extra waxing; the Indian rugs were put out on the hedge in the garden and given a beating, which brought the colours up beautifully, and I wondered if the country they came from was as rich and vibrant as they were. The cushions too were taken outside to be shaken. The feathers flew up into the air, and the sparrows and thrushes twittered and sang as they waited up on the tree branches for them to drift down, so they could collect them to line their nests.
Mrs Ingram discussed the menu with Cook, and with Mrs Judson and Mr Thompson she spoke of the desirability of taking on temporary staff: two more maids to help in the kitchen, one more for upstairs to serve food, and an under butler to help Mr Thompson serve the wine and fruit cup. It was amazing to me that so many people would be needed, but I suppose they wanted to make a good impression on the people attending.
“Of course,” said Christy as we sat beneath a tree on the Westwood, “Father also wants me to meet the parents of these young women. There may be some association I could take up. He’s inviting lawyers and landowners as well as people in industry. Though not trade, you know.”
“So not Billy Brown’s father?” I smiled at the thought of seeing Billy’s father drinking wine and eating fancy pastries whilst still dressed in his bloodstained apron.
“Of course not,” he said. “Certainly not trade.” He turned to look at me and clasped my hand. “But I wish that you could be there, Jenny.”
“I will be there,” I said, very quietly. “I shall be Jenny upstairs maid, won’t I?”
He nodded and squeezed my hand. “But I meant as my friend, Jenny, so that you could come and talk to me, or join in the dancing.”
“Dancing,” I breathed. “Is there to be dancing?”
Nobody downstairs had mentioned dancing and I wondered if they knew. I couldn’t mention it of course, because they would want to know how I had heard of it. I had to be so careful.
Mrs Judson was the first to tell of it the next day. “There’s to be dancing,” she said.
“Shall we be able to listen to the music?” Mary asked. “Or watch?”
Mrs Judson put on a prim face, but then she relaxed. “Well, I suppose there’d be no harm, as long as no-one saw us.”
So that is what we did. After we had served supper in the dining room and the guests had adjourned to the drawing room, we, that is Mary, who had come down to help, Polly, the temporary maid and I, rushe
d to clear away, leaving Tilly and the two other kitchen maids to wash the dishes. Then we hid at the top of the kitchen stairs and listened to the music from a piano and a fiddle, and tapped our feet and wished that we could have a dance too.
From where we stood we caught glimpses of swirling gowns, pretty flowered muslins and shiny satins, and tailcoats flying, for some of the younger guests danced their formation into the hall.
There was much whispered speculation from Mary and Polly, with an occasional curt remark from Mrs Judson, as to which young lady would eventually be chosen for Mr Christy. I didn’t join in this debate, because I knew with an absolute certainty that it would be none of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Nothing came of the introductions to the young ladies, as I knew it wouldn’t, though Christy did obtain a position within a bank. His father had shares in it, so I believe, but Christy spent little time there, and if I’m perfectly honest, if I had had any money I wouldn’t have entrusted it to him for he didn’t have a head for figures.
But it was an occupation of sorts and his mother was overheard to say that it would suffice until he married. The assumption being, as Mrs Judson sniffed, that he would marry someone very rich. I never thought of marriage for myself, but if I had wanted it, I think that Billy would have asked me. We met frequently. He rose very early in a morning and by teatime he was free. He would hang around the Ingrams’ house or sometimes knock on the back door. Cook didn’t discourage him for he often brought a string of sausages or a ham shank, or maybe a piece of offal, and these would be eaten in the kitchen and not find their way upstairs.
“You could do worse, girl,” Cook used to say. “You’d never go hungry and you’d have some standing in ’town as a butcher’s wife.”
“Couldn’t stomach ’stench of blood, Cook,” I would answer. “Nor the sound of slaughter.”
But there are worse smells I’ve discovered since being in here. There’s an odour of unwashed bodies for a start, for there are no washing facilities to speak of, and a stale stink of mutton fat which they serve under the guise of food; but worst of all there’s an unwholesome smell of fear and that is coming directly from me.
Christy had a huge argument with his father when he was twenty. Mr Ingram said that he wasn’t learning anything about banking and so must choose another career. The army had been suggested, but Christy had refused, and quite rightly. He was far too gentle to be amongst rough soldiers, even though he would be placed as an officer. And besides, he would never be able to make a decision about anything important, for I have to say he was quite negligent in the matter of resolutions, preferring to put them off for another day. At least, that is what I thought then.
I was returning from a visit to Hull during October. My father had been ill and I’d persuaded Mrs Judson to give me some time off to see him. I’d gone there and back in the day and I’d like to have stayed longer as it was Hull Fair week. I always used to enjoy that, but Mrs Judson insisted that I came back on the last train. It had been a dank wet day and when I arrived at Beverley station it was dark and gloomy. Imagine my shock when a figure loomed up in front of me. I was very startled.
“Hello, Jenny kitchen-maid.” A voice I recognized greeted me. “May I walk you home?”
“Mr Christy!” I said in relief, and was very pleased to see him for I didn’t really fancy walking along New Walk in the dark, for although I knew that there were villains locked up in the Correction House, I also knew that there were some who had their freedom and were quite able to pounce on a young maid if they should see her alone and without an escort. “What are you doing out here this evening?” We were familiar enough for me to question him in this manner, you see, even though he was my employer’s son. “Have you been meeting friends?”
“What friends have I, Jenny?” he asked glumly. “You are my only friend and that is why I am here. I asked Tilly where you were and the time of your arrival.” He tucked my arm into his. “And she told me.”
That girl hasn’t learnt sense, I thought to myself. She should have said she didn’t know, though I was very glad indeed that she hadn’t.
We walked quite slowly, chatting of this and that. I told him of my father who was much better, and of my mother who was still as short-tempered as ever, and then of my two sisters who were still at home and wanting me to go back so that they didn’t have to do so many chores and housework.
“But you’ll not do that, Jenny?” Christy sounded quite anxious.
“No fear,” I said. “Indeed I won’t!”
“Because I’d miss you, Jenny kitchen-maid,” he said softly, and bent his head towards me. We were entering New Walk. It’s a tree-lined road with many shady places, and, so as not to be seen, we found that quite naturally we eased into one of those places where the branches hung low and we could lean against the broad tree trunk.
It was as if I had been waiting all those long years for him to put his arms round me and kiss me gently on the mouth. We had grown up together; we had shared our childhood in a way, although we were in different circumstances. Him upstairs and me down. But that had never really seemed to matter. We were meant to be together, we were both sure of that. And that was what Christy said that night. That we should be together always and for ever, come what may.
I couldn’t begin to explain the lightness of spirit, the joy unfurling inside me when he said those words, even though I knew that our future wouldn’t be easy; that there would be objections from every quarter.
“I’ll always love you, Jenny kitchen-maid,” he whispered into my ear that night. “There will never be anyone else for me.”
“And I will love you too,” I said in return.
“For ever!’ he insisted. “You must say for ever.”
I smiled at him in the darkness and he touched my cheek with his fingertips. “For ever,” I whispered back. “For ever and ever. Amen.”
He seemed satisfied then and with a little more kissing to seal our promise, we went on our way. We parted company just before we reached the house and I went through the kitchen door and he through the front, and I remember thinking that it wouldn’t always be so, that one day we should enter a door together.
“Have you got a young man?” Lillian asked me one day about six months later. She was a new maid, come to replace Polly, who had obtained a place as a housekeeper, as I always knew she would. “I often see that butcher lad hanging about.”
I was about to deny it, when I thought to myself that perhaps a hint that I had a young man would throw people off the scent when I went on my afternoon walks to meet Christy. “Billy?” I said innocently and lowered my eyelids. “He’s quite sweet on me.”
“So you go to meet him, do you?” She gave a knowing look. “Mind what you get up to! Don’t get in ’family way.”
I decided that I didn’t like Lillian much. She was too nosy by far and forever giving the other maids the benefit of her advice, which I would never take as she was younger than me.
“Know all about that, do you?” I said rather sharply. “Then you must watch yourself too,” and she had the grace to blush.
Nevertheless, it was a worry that had been bothering me, for Christy and I were, by now, lovers in the full sense of the word; but it wasn’t as if he had forced me. Oh dear no. I was very willing to show how much I loved him. What I wanted, what we both wanted, was to show everyone else how much we cared for one another.
“When I am twenty-one, Jenny,” Christy said, “I will come into my grandfather’s legacy. Then we can go away and be free to marry. We can be man and wife, which is what I want more than anything else in the world.”
I couldn’t believe that anyone could love me so much. Me. The plain girl. Jenny kitchen-maid. I went around doing my daily tasks and hoping that no-one would be able to tell from my face that I was bursting with happiness. It didn’t occur to me to wonder why he loved me. I just knew that he did. But as I think about it now, I think I know the reason why. It was because I ac
cepted him as he was. I never asked him to do what he didn’t want to do, as his parents did. Always badgering him to choose a career, or find a wife out of the available and eligible young ladies who were paraded before him at parties and balls. And I never thought to wonder why it was so important that he should make the right choice when he was so young. But now I know why.
The trouble started when he reached his majority, which means when he became of age. It meant that he no longer had to do what his parents said and that he could make decisions for himself, and so he told his parents that he was going away with the woman he loved, though he didn’t name me, and that he didn’t want to meet any other wishy-washy young women, no matter how rich they were.
Well, the rumpus that ensued. His mother went to bed for a week, his sister had hysterics and his father said that he was going to see his lawyer to find out if he could rescind Christy’s grandfather’s legacy.
“How can he do that?” I asked Christy when we were at last alone. It had been very difficult lately to find a spare ten minutes to meet; the evenings were light and we were very afraid of being seen.
“Father said he will get a doctor to say I am of unsound mind and not able to govern my own affairs.” His eyes glittered when he spoke and it did seem as if he had a kind of madness on him.
“But why would he want to do that? Surely your happiness is of the most importance to your parents?”
“No,” he said bitterly. “The most important thing to my family is that I marry someone rich and do it soon.” He looked at me with anguish in his eyes. “Father is nearly bankrupt. His shares have been falling for years. If I don’t marry well and save them, then they’ll lose everything. Julia won’t have a dowry and Father’s cousin from Worcester will inherit the house if Father can’t maintain it. What am I to do, Jenny?” He was almost in tears. “What am I to do? I can’t give you up. Won’t give you up.”
