The Kitchen Maid

by Val Wood

  ‘We’ve agreed that there won’t be love between us,’ she said softly. ‘But if we trust each other and can live together in friendship, then I think this marriage will survive; so I’ll take ’chance with you.’ She swallowed and looked away as a blush suffused her cheeks. ‘I just want to ask that you’ll be patient with me. I’ve only known Christy. I’m not experienced in such matters as … ’marriage bed and I’m … quite nervous of tonight, if I’m truthful.’

  He gave her a sad smile. ‘And if I’m truthful, Jenny, so am I! I lived with Agnes all those years. I can’t imagine how it will be to take another woman to my bed.’ He reached across and patted her shoulder. ‘We don’t need to do anything in a hurry. Let us be honest and understanding and just take things as they come.’

  Arabella threw up her hands when Jenny and Stephen came into the house together. ‘It’s unlucky to meet,’ she shrieked. ‘You should have stayed apart until you met in church!’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Jenny threw a sly glance at Stephen. ‘If only you’d told me before, Miss Arabella. I’d have stayed in bed and you could have fed ’hens and ’pig instead of me. But as it is, Mr Laslett and me have been chatting away.’ She assumed a disconsolate face. ‘So misfortune’ll be upon us.’

  ‘What superstitious nonsense, Arabella!’ Stephen mocked. ‘Where is your common sense? How could we possibly keep apart in such a small house? Jenny is my housekeeper until later this morning, and then she will be my wife, and in the meantime there are jobs to be done. We can’t abandon the animals and our livelihood for the sake of such silly conventions. And besides,’ he added, ‘who would cook your breakfast?’

  Jenny dressed Christina in a velvet dress, which she had made from a faded curtain, and then slipped into her own gown. It fitted her well and she was pleased with her sewing. The style showed off her trim waist and firm breasts and accentuated her plump hips. Arabella knocked on her door.

  ‘Jenny! Would you be terribly offended if I offered to lend you a bonnet? I brought several with me – unless you already have one of your own?’

  ‘I only have my plain bonnet,’ Jenny said and looked admiringly at the ones that Arabella was holding. ‘I was going to put some ribbon on it to dress it up, but I ran out of time.’

  ‘Then borrow one of mine, please do.’ Arabella seemed anxious to be agreeable. ‘Here is a grey with blue flowers which would match the colour of your gown, or this one is pretty, look. White with pink ribbons. Or this one –’

  Jenny took the last one from Arabella’s hand. ‘This one,’ she said. ‘If I may?’ The bonnet was a deep blue ruched velvet, which she set back from her face so that her shiny brown hair, parted in the middle, showed beneath it. White lace at the side of the bonnet framed her face and wide dark blue and white velvet ribbons fastened beneath her chin.

  ‘How lovely you look,’ Arabella enthused, clasping her hands beneath her chin in delight. ‘Why, Jenny. You’re not a plain girl at all!’

  ‘Time we were off,’ Stephen called up the stairs. Arabella went down first in her hooped gown of cream silk, which brushed the walls as she descended. Jenny followed, carrying Christina who immediately put out her arms for Stephen to carry her.

  Stephen blinked, and then opened his eyes wide as he took the child from her. ‘You look very – fine, Jenny,’ he murmured. ‘Very fine indeed.’

  They were to meet Dr Hill at the church, so the three of them, with Christina on Jenny’s lap, rode in the waggon, which Stephen had swept clean of straw. Arabella complained constantly that if she had known that this was the only mode of transport, she would have asked Collins to come with the carriage.

  ‘There’s many a poor farmer would be proud to have a waggon such as this,’ Stephen argued. ‘It’s perfectly adequate and suitable for our status, is that not so, Jenny?’

  Jenny nodded that it was. As the morning wore on she was feeling more and more nervous and tongue-tied whenever Stephen spoke to her. When they reached the church, Dr Hill was pacing up and down at the gate. She and Stephen glanced at each other as they climbed out of the waggon, and both knew that this was their last chance of turning back.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Jenny?’ he murmured. ‘It’s not too late.’ He gently touched her cheek with a fingertip. ‘You could be wasting your youth on an old man like me.’

  She smiled shyly, her cheeks dimpling. ‘We both know you are not so old, Mr Laslett,’ she said softly. She placed her arm on his and with the other hand took hold of Christina. ‘Shall we go and make our vows?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dr Hill took charge of Christina whilst Jenny and Stephen made their vows. Arabella standing by his side seemed very petite.

  After the ceremony Jenny and Stephen drove back to the house in the waggon, whilst Dr Hill offered to drive Arabella and Christina in his trap. Arabella eagerly accepted, though was clearly uncomfortable with Christina on her knee.

  ‘Well, Jenny. For better or for worse, we’ve committed ourselves,’ Stephen commented. ‘But I give my word of honour that if you are ever unhappy with your situation, I’ll set you free.’

  ‘But – we’ve promised, haven’t we?’ she said. ‘I know that’s what we agreed, but we’ve vowed in church before God and the priest! It’s binding, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought how binding it would be. You knew because you’ve been married before. We can’t take it lightly!’

  He took a deep breath, then shook the reins and urged on the horse. ‘Agnes was married to a man who beat her and treated her as a servant. Do you think she should have stayed with him because she had promised God?’ His voice was low and hard and she knew that he was still hurting over Agnes’s death. ‘Do you think that God would have wanted her to?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know.’

  Stephen, Arabella and George Hill chatted over the wedding breakfast whilst Jenny served the food, first putting Christina to bed for a sleep. They talked of people they knew from their childhood, but Jenny didn’t know any of them and concentrated on seeing that everyone had all they wanted in the way of food and drink.

  Finally, Dr Hill filled everyone’s glass with wine, which he had provided, and rose to give a toast to the newly married couple. ‘To Stephen, my dear friend who has honoured me with his fellowship for so many years, I wish good health and companionship with the worthy, sincere and amiable young woman you have chosen to be your wife in marriage. To Jenny, whom I have known only a short time, yet with her undoubted good sense, tenderness and housewifely skills has impressed me greatly, I wish contentment and joy in your union with Stephen, and may the two of you go forward together into a bright future.’

  He raised his glass and Arabella, with flushed cheeks, gazing at the doctor, did the same. ‘To Stephen and Jenny.’

  Arabella’s carriage came shortly afterwards and she reluctantly took her leave. ‘I can’t invite you to visit, of course,’ she said to Jenny as she fastened on her cloak, for it was raining again. ‘Not until Father says so.’

  Stephen heard her and put his hand lightly on Jenny’s shoulder in a show of harmony. ‘We don’t need his condescension, Bella, and besides we’re too busy for socializing. We have a living to make. But you may come to visit us.’ He bent his head towards Jenny. ‘May she not, Mrs St John Laslett?’

  Jenny took in an imperceptible breath and then hid a smile at the astonishment on Arabella’s face, as she comprehended his words.

  ‘Wh-why, that’s very kind of you, Stephen, and you too … Mrs St John Laslett.’ She swallowed and licked her lips. ‘So kind.’

  ‘Call me Jenny, Arabella,’ Jenny said. ‘We don’t have to be so formal now that we are sisters!’

  ‘Oh!’ Arabella breathed. ‘No, indeed not. Goodbye.’ She extended her hand to Jenny and gave a slight bob of her head. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

  Dr Hill, behind them, nudged Stephen as Arabella hurried up the path towards the chaise. ‘You are very unkind, Laslett,’ he murmured. ‘Go and
wave your sister off properly. At least she came to the wedding. None of the others did.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t invite them,’ Stephen growled, but nevertheless he chased after Arabella and, after kissing her on the cheek, assisted her into the carriage and waved her goodbye.

  ‘You’ll need to be patient with him,’ Dr Hill advised Jenny as they stood in the doorway. ‘I don’t think he’s recovered from Agnes’s death.’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Jenny interrupted.

  ‘Yet he is marrying again! You are a remarkable young woman to take on a man who still loves his dead wife!’ He gazed curiously at her. ‘You’re not marrying him for his wealth, that’s for certain.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve not had a penny to call my own since I first came here. I loved –’ she took a breath, ‘still love Christina’s father, who also died. Stephen and I – we –’ How can I say that we are marrying because it is what Agnes wanted? she thought.

  ‘Ah!’ The doctor intervened. ‘So you have something in common and you both need companionship?’ He smiled. ‘But you are young, Mrs Laslett, you need gaiety in your life. You must persuade your husband not to hide himself away like a recluse.’

  How strange her new name seemed. ‘Please call me Jenny,’ she said, as she had said to Arabella. ‘I’m ’same person as I was before.’

  ‘But you will not remain the same,’ he said. ‘And you must expect and receive consideration as Stephen’s wife. You are no longer Jenny the kitchen maid! You are a respectable married woman and your husband is a gentleman. The fact that he is poor doesn’t make him any less of one.’

  ‘Agnes didn’t receive respect.’ Jenny lowered her voice as Stephen came back down the path.

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ the doctor agreed quietly. ‘But circumstances were different for her. She came here as a woman already married to someone else, and she was never forgiven for that.’

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Stephen asked. ‘Talking about me behind my back?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dr Hill. ‘That’s it exactly. Now, I must be off. There will no doubt be someone hammering on my door.’

  ‘Thank you for coming, Dr Hill,’ Jenny said, and put out her hand for him to take.

  He gave a little smile of approval as he bent to kiss it. ‘The pleasure was all mine, Jenny. I trust we’ll meet again soon.’

  Stephen held out his hand and gravely shook Dr Hill’s. ‘Many thanks, George. I rely on your friendship, as you well know. Our paths will cross again ere long.’

  George Hill nodded. ‘Good luck,’ he murmured. Turning, he walked away up the path and towards his horse and trap tethered near the gate. He lifted his hand in farewell, leaving Jenny and Stephen gazing after him. They both stood for a moment, aware that they were alone as man and wife and no longer employer and housekeeper.

  ‘Best get on,’ Stephen muttered. ‘I’ll get changed and start the milking.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny replied, and to her relief heard Christina’s shout as she awakened from her sleep. ‘I’ll see to Christina and then clear up.’

  The rest of the afternoon and evening saw them carrying out their various tasks, but towards the close of evening the sky, which had been dark and overcast all day, suddenly became brighter with long thin shafts of red and gold. Jenny looked out of the kitchen window as she washed the last of the dishes from the wedding feast and saw Stephen striding up the path with his long-legged lope towards the meadow and Agnes’s grave.

  She’ll always be with us, she mused. If I was a young wife in love with my husband, I could be very jealous. But as I loved Agnes too, I understand his feelings: I have so many mixed emotions about Christy. But I have his daughter by my side and she is a constant reminder of that time.

  Stephen came in half an hour later and poured himself a glass of wine, then suddenly started. ‘Sorry, Jenny,’ he apologized. ‘I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like a glass?’

  ‘No thank you,’ she said. ‘I had a glass of wine when we ate. It’s as much as I want.’

  They sat in silence on opposite sides of the fire, Jenny gazing into the flames and Stephen contemplating his drink. Then he gruffly cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me, Jenny, but this is not going to be easy. Not for either of us, but especially not for me. Agnes and I lived here for so many years without company that I think we became almost reclusive. Until you came to join us, I hadn’t had any conversation with another woman. Is it any wonder then that I am forgetful of my manners? I ask you to excuse me if at times I seem churlish, for it will be nothing to do with you, but everything to do with me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I see.’

  ‘Tell me how you feel,’ he said. ‘Tell me how you felt about young Ingram when he died, and if you still miss him?’

  A pulse throbbed in her throat and the blood hammered in her ears, just as it had on that day. ‘On the day he died, all I felt was disbelief and shock,’ she whispered. ‘But –’ She swallowed, trying to retain her composure. ‘But I have Christina. She makes up for the loss.’

  ‘You must have wanted to die with him?’ he said sympathetically. ‘All your dreams shattered.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Jenny shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to die! I wanted to live. Christy wanted us to die together.’ She stared at Stephen, not seeing him. It was the first time she had confessed it. ‘He wanted us to commit suicide,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’ Stephen leant towards her. ‘But why didn’t you say? Why didn’t you tell the police that? You wouldn’t have been charged!’

  Hot tears gathered in her eyes as, trembling, she remembered. ‘I didn’t think they would believe me. And suicide would have been a terrible thing for his family to bear, so I didn’t tell them.’

  ‘How could he have expected you to agree to suicide?’ Stephen was aghast. ‘It is abhorrent. Against all our teachings!’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘Did it seem as if his mind was going?’

  Jenny hesitated, then took a deep lingering breath. ‘Christy had strange ideas sometimes. He wasn’t sensible or straightforward, and latterly, when he thought his parents were against him, he locked himself in his room and didn’t eat or drink; and that was when he came up with the idea of us always being together – in death. But he didn’t tell me until that day,’ she added.

  ‘You poor girl,’ he murmured and reached for her hand. ‘I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified when he suggested it to you. Was there a struggle? Is that how the gun went off?’

  Jenny looked away from him, her eyes gazing steadfastly into the fire. ‘I don’t want to think about it.’ Her voice was composed. ‘If I do, I can still feel the cold metal in my hand.’

  ‘Of course.’ He patted her sympathetically. ‘You must put it behind you. It was a dreadful thing to have happened, and amazing that you were uninjured.’

  They again sat in silence until Stephen admitted, ‘I gave Agnes an extra dose of medication, you know. To ease her pain. Hill said that I should.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, still with her eyes on the flames. ‘He said ’same to me.’

  ‘I went up there tonight. To her grave.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was as if she was gone. Usually I feel that there’s a response from her. Does that seem strange?’ He ran his hand over his chin. ‘But tonight there was none. I think she was telling me to leave her in peace.’

  He got up and stretched. ‘I’ll just go and check around everything before I lock up.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jenny gave herself a mental shake. ‘I think I’ll go up to bed.’ She hesitated. ‘Where shall I sleep?’

  He stood by the door, one hand on the sneck, and glanced towards her. ‘Wherever you feel comfortable, Jenny. I told you there was no hurry about anything. Sleep in your own bed if you wish.’

  Jenny undressed by the low light of the lamp, which she had left on in case Christina awoke. It seems odd, she thought. Here I am a married woman preparing to spend my w
edding night alone. She pulled her nightshift over her head and brushed her hair. Then she padded to the chest of drawers where there was a mirror on a mahogany stand. She looked into it and, beyond her white-clad figure and streaming dark hair, saw the reflection of a single bed with her child softly sleeping, and the glowing lamp on a side table.

  She turned and, going to the lamp, put out the flame. Bending, she gently kissed Christina before going to the door, leaving it slightly ajar as she crossed the landing to Stephen’s bedroom.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jenny was almost asleep when she heard footsteps on the stairs and then the creak of the door as it opened. She hadn’t lit the lamp and the room was illuminated only by the night sky, which, though moonless, was quite light in spite of the earlier rain.

  Stephen sat on the side of the bed and removed his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt, and as Jenny moved slightly in the bed he turned. ‘Jenny!’ He barely breathed her name.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It didn’t seem right sleeping in ’other bed. I’ve promised to be your wife and bear your children. I can’t do that from across ’landing.’

  She thought that he laughed for she heard a slight breathy sound, though she couldn’t be sure, as his face was in shadow, but she watched as he took off his shirt and his under drawers, and then pulled back the sheet to lie naked beside her. They neither of them spoke, and Jenny almost held her breath as she considered that she had never before lain beside a man, let alone seen one completely naked.

  He reached out and clasped her hand, then quickly withdrew it and sat up with his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. So sorry. Your being beside me brings back so many memories of Agnes, especially of when we were both young.’

  She sat up beside him. ‘It’ll take time, I expect,’ she consoled him. ‘I feel strange too and nervous. It’s ’first time I’ve been in bed with a man.’