by Val Wood
‘This is the beginning of our land,’ she went on, as they turned a bend in the road and pulled up a hill. ‘It is quite extensive and we have three farms which Father rents out.’
But just as isolated as Lavender Cott, Jenny thought as she gazed at the vista, so no-one will know about me here either. There’s no wonder that Stephen is perfectly happy where we are. It’s quite what he is used to.
After another quarter of an hour of bumping along potholed lanes, they turned up a long track. Jenny could see what appeared to be a large farmhouse at the end of it. Not a grand house, then, she pondered. Perhaps Stephen’s father is a working farmer after all and not a gentleman as I’d supposed.
‘Does your father have many employees?’ she asked Arabella tentatively. ‘On the land, I mean?’
‘He hires labour every Martinmas,’ she said. ‘Some of them live in, and then the gangs come in the summer for harvest.’ She tutted impatiently as a carriage wheel hit a deep hole and they were all thrown about. ‘Then we have the horse lads. Some of them live above the stables and the others live at the back of the house with the hind and his wife, and she cooks for them and does their washing, I believe. House servants like Dolly’ – she indicated the maid with them – ‘all live in. Mama always liked them to. She said she didn’t want them going home to the villages where they might get into trouble.’
Jenny glanced at Dolly, whose face was impassive as if she didn’t know she was being spoken of, and thought of Cook at the Ingrams’ house who said she liked to employ country girls so that they weren’t always running home.
As they approached Laslett Hall, Jenny saw that it was much bigger than she had first thought. A rambling brick house, built originally to be square, it now had additional wings to the east and west with high gables and tall chimneystacks. The carriage pulled up at the front entrance, a heavy oak door opened and a tall but bent elderly man, with a curly grey beard and side whiskers, in a rough tweed jacket and cord breeches and wearing muddy boots, hobbled down the steps to greet them.
‘Thought you were never coming home,’ he barked at Arabella. ‘I told you my gout was playing up! Come along then. You, girl,’ he said to the maid. ‘Look sharp. Get that luggage inside; you’ve wasted enough time for one day. Now then, Bella, who’s this then?’
Jenny felt her cheeks flush at his manner. What a rude man he was, certainly not a gentleman, like his son. She gave a dip of her knee.
‘Papa, this is Stephen’s wife, Jenny,’ Arabella said. ‘And these are their children, John Stephen and Serena Mary.’
‘Hmph,’ he grunted and cast his eyes towards the children. Jenny was holding the twins and Christina was hiding behind her skirt.
‘How do you do, sir?’ Jenny wished that she had a hand free so that she could offer it as she remembered Mrs Ingram’s friends used to, but her arms were full of squirming babies who at any moment would be demanding food. She moved towards John Laslett. ‘This is your grandson, Johnny,’ she said, moving her right arm so that he could see the boy, ‘and this is your granddaughter, Serena.’
‘Hmph,’ he said again. ‘And who’s this hiding behind your skirts, eh?’ He nodded towards Christina. ‘Is this a child I don’t know about? He hasn’t wasted much time in this marriage, I’ll say that for my son.’
‘Christina is Stephen’s adopted daughter, sir.’ Jenny could feel tension rising within her. ‘She means as much to him as his own children.’
‘Does she indeed.’ The old man gazed down at Christina who was now sucking her thumb as if her life depended on it. ‘Well, no wonder. She’s a pretty little thing. Break a few hearts in time, I don’t doubt.’
Jenny heaved a breath; perhaps his bark was worse than his bite. And to her astonishment, he put out his hand to Christina to help her up the steps and told them to follow him.
Arabella pulled a face and raised her eyebrows as Christina and her father went in front of them. She took hold of Jenny’s elbow to assist her and they entered the hall together.
Jenny’s eyes opened wide at the size of the inner hall. It’s as big as a ballroom, she thought, looking up at the panelled walls and down the flagged floor towards the fire burning in the huge fireplace at the end. In front of the fire on a ragged carpet lay two large dogs, who lifted their heads as they entered, then put them down on their big paws and surveyed them from mournful eyes.
‘Come on, lads, out of the way!’ John Laslett shouted at the animals. ‘Go on. Outside! Let somebody else see the damned fire.’
The two dogs turned their reproachful eyes on him, then slunk out through another door. Jenny shivered. Though the sun was warm and bright outside, the house was cold and she hoped that the other rooms were not as big or as draughty as this one.
‘There,’ he said to Christina. ‘You stand there by the fire and get warm. What did they say your name was?’
‘Christina,’ she piped, ‘and I’m not cold. I’ve got my winter drawers on, cos Papa said it would be as cold as charity here.’
There was a glimmer of a wry grin on the old man’s face. ‘Did he, by Jove? Well, perhaps he’s right. Better make sure the bricks are put in the beds, Bella. Don’t want these children catching a chill.’ With that he was off, muttering about things to do, and Arabella said with some relief in her voice that they wouldn’t see him again until supper.
Jenny asked if she could go upstairs immediately as the babies needed feeding. Johnny was starting to squall and she always had to make sure his demand was met before Serena’s, otherwise he turned into a red-faced screaming monster.
Her bedroom was large and filled with heavy old-fashioned furniture. The tester bed was lavishly draped with brocaded hangings in need of repair and a faded rose silk bedspread was thrown over it. A fire burned in the grate and an upholstered armchair was placed beside it. A pleasant view of meadows with flocks of sheep grazing could be seen from the window.
‘Thank you,’ she said to Arabella, who had come up with her. ‘It’s a lovely room. Very comfortable.’
‘It’s our best room,’ Arabella said. ‘Mama always used this one for our special guests. It’s the warmest bedroom in the house; the fire always draws well in here. I’ve asked Papa if I can have it instead of mine, but he says not, that we must keep it for when we have company. Not that we do very often.’
‘Do your sisters visit?’ Jenny asked as she sat down and started to suckle the babies. ‘They must fight over it? Or perhaps they still have their old rooms?’
Arabella lowered her eyes away from Jenny. ‘Oh, they don’t stay! They live quite near and so always go home. They always say they have to get back on some excuse or other, but really it’s because it’s so cold, especially in winter.’
Dolly knocked on the door and entered, carrying the luggage. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am.’ She seemed uneasy. Though she spoke to Jenny directly, her eyes glanced briefly at the feeding babies. ‘But Mr Laslett has just come back in again, and says he’d like to speak to you before supper.’
‘Give Mr Laslett my compliments,’ Jenny said calmly, ‘and tell him that I’m busy with ’children at present, and will be down as soon as it’s convenient.’
Dolly took in a breath, and Arabella quickly said, ‘I’ll tell him, Dolly. You unpack for – Mrs Stephen, whilst she is seeing to the twins.’ She gave a nervous smile at Jenny and hurried out of the room.
So, he’s used to being obeyed immediately, Jenny thought, as she gently patted Johnny’s back. He gave a satisfying burp. She looked up at the maid who was watching her intently. ‘Perhaps you’d bring Christina a glass of milk and a piece of cake, Dolly,’ she said. ‘Or would you like to take her down to the kitchen and introduce her to Cook?’
Christina is such a little angel, they’ll love her if I know anything about kitchen staff, she thought. And then Dolly can tell them that I feed the babies myself and don’t have a wet nurse, and we’ll see what they make of that!
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll take her down. They’ve been l
ooking forward to you coming.’ Dolly gave her a sudden warm smile. ‘And I’ll bring you a glass of milk, shall I? Or mebbe you’d prefer a glass of ale? They say ’tis ’finest thing when you’re feeding bairns.’
Jenny, who hardly ever drank, simply because Stephen only ever drank a tot of whisky when he could afford it, which wasn’t often, and they never had any other alcohol in the house, remembered with a sudden clarity her mother sending out for a jug of ale after the births of Jenny’s young brothers. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would be very nice. I am quite tired. Perhaps it will perk me up.’
Dolly appeared ten minutes later carrying a tray with a glass of ale, a plate with a slice of bread and butter, and two small bowls on it.
‘Hope you don’t mind, ma’am, but I’ve left Miss Christina downstairs having a bit o’ supper, and Cook says she hopes you likes her ale. And she’s sent up a bowl o’ pobs for ’little bairns, for when I told her what an appetite young master John has—’
‘Johnny,’ Jenny interrupted. ‘We call him Johnny.’
‘Master Johnny, and how big he was, she said he might benefit from a bit extra, and save you as well, ma’am.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Jenny said. ‘Most thoughtful.’ It was true that she was feeling tired and exhausted by Johnny’s constant hungry demands, and she had started to supplement his feeds with bread and milk and mashed up potato. ‘Perhaps tomorrow when we are settled in I could bring the twins downstairs and introduce them?’
‘Oh, they’d like that, ma’am. They want to know if the boy looks like Master Stephen. I never met him, but Cook’s been here a long time and knew him, and Peg who’s worked here off and on as kitchen maid remembers him as well.’
Jenny nodded and bit into the bread. And what would they think if they knew I had been a kitchen maid too? she wondered. Or has Dolly guessed already that I’m the same status as them? She smoothed down her plain dark gown, the only one she had brought with her, for her only other was very faded and shabby. Or will they think that I am one of those bohemian women who lead an unconventional life, feeding their own babies and caring nothing for fashion or rules?
‘Oh, and ma’am.’ Dolly flushed guiltily. ‘I nearly forgot. Mr Laslett is still waiting to speak to you. He’s down in ’great hall, and isn’t looking ower pleased.’
‘How long to supper, Dolly?’
‘Fifteen minutes.’
Jenny straightened her back and took a deep breath. Well. Whatever he had to say, he should be able to say in that time. He didn’t seem to be the kind of man to beat about the bush. ‘Good.’ She took a long draught of ale, as if she wasn’t in any hurry. ‘This is exceedingly good, tell Cook.’ She smiled at Dolly, remembering the time when Mrs Ingram didn’t know her name. ‘And would you like to give the children their pobs, Dolly?’
‘Yes, please,’ Dolly said enthusiastically.
‘Then I’ll go down. We don’t want to keep Mr Laslett from his supper.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
John Laslett was waiting for her in the hall. He had changed his jacket for a dark tailcoat and a white shirt with a high collar, but still wore his cord breeches and boots. He was standing with his back to the fire, holding up his coat tails to warm his nether regions. The dogs had come back in and were lying on the carpet by his feet.
‘I want to talk to you,’ he barked. ‘I’m not used to being kept waiting.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ Jenny said civilly. ‘I came as quickly as I could, but I’m afraid ’children had to come first, otherwise you wouldn’t have liked the noise they would have made.’
He frowned. ‘In my day children were not allowed to dictate to their elders!’
‘I’m sure that’s right, sir,’ Jenny said patiently. ‘But perhaps you could afford wet nurses and servants to look after them so that they didn’t disturb you?’
‘Hmph,’ he said. ‘So you don’t have any help? My son can’t afford them, is that it?’
‘We manage.’ She wasn’t prepared to give him the satisfaction of gloating.
‘The other woman died, then? Didn’t take him long to grieve if he was married soon after!’
‘He did grieve. I was there. He was devastated when Agnes died. He loved her.’
He grunted again. ‘And why did you marry him? Housekeeper, weren’t you? Did you think he was a good catch? That he might get the estate back now that she’d gone?’ He fired the questions at her. ‘It’s not guaranteed, you know. Not fixed in stone. I can give it to anyone I want!’
Jenny sat down, even though he hadn’t asked her to, and folded her hands in front of her. She was breathing hard. ‘Why did you ask me here, sir?’
‘What! What do you mean?’
‘I understood I was invited here so that you could meet your grandchildren. I refused once because you didn’t invite my husband. I was persuaded to come this time. There was no ulterior motive on my part.’
He glared at her. ‘You speak well enough for a former servant. How come?’
‘I’ve had some schooling,’ she said, ‘and living with Stephen has improved my knowledge.’
‘Mm – well, the servant class has to fend for itself, I suppose. There are some pretty sharp folk about. So what did you do before you were housekeeper to Stephen and that woman?’
‘That woman, sir, as you call her, was my aunt!’ Jenny felt her anger rising and knew she couldn’t stay in the house with him. She would ask to be taken home first thing in the morning. ‘I was asked to go and look after her; she was dying and your son badly needed some help.’ She put her chin in the air. ‘They went to Agnes’s family for that help, not yours! And as for what I did before, I was a kitchen maid and then upstairs maid.’
There, she thought. It’s out! He’ll probably ask me to leave now and Stephen and Johnny will have lost their inheritance completely.
He sat down opposite her, stretching out his booted legs and pursing his lips as he gazed at her. She saw that his eyes were as blue as Stephen’s were. He nodded his head very slowly as if considering. ‘Well,’ he said at length. ‘I admire your candour. Can’t abide folks who make up stories about themselves just to impress. Now, about these children. You say my son has adopted the little girl? But the twins are his? He fathered them?’
‘Yes,’ Jenny replied stonily.
‘Were you a widow?’
She hesitated. If she were to tell the truth, say that she hadn’t been married to Christy, it would be the same in his eyes as it had been when Agnes lived with Stephen. Yet he had said he admired candour. Perhaps if I tone down the truth without actually lying, he might accept it.
‘Christina’s father died before we could marry,’ she said quietly. ‘So I wasn’t a widow, though almost ’same as.’
‘Ah! Got caught, did you?’ He nodded again and kept his eyes upon her. ‘It happens in the best of circles. But he intended to marry you, did he?’ he asked sharply.
She met his gaze. ‘We had our plans made.’
‘Righty ho!’ He rose to his feet just as a clangorous din erupted as someone pounded the supper gong. ‘Damn and blast it,’ he bellowed towards the bottom of the hall. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not deaf! You’ll waken those children!’
Christina stood by the brass gong, the striker in her hand and her mouth open, with a scared-looking maid behind her. ‘Sorry, sir,’ the maid gasped. ‘It was meant as a treat. I didn’t think she could strike so hard!’
The old man stared at Christina, then suddenly grinned and wagged a finger at her. ‘Just this once then. Go on, strike once more and then off to bed with you.’
Christina smiled prettily and heaved up the striker with its padded end and crashed it once more onto the gong.
‘Come and say good night, Christina,’ Jenny called to her and glanced up the stairs to where Dolly was coming down.
Christina put her face up for her mother to kiss and then turned to Mr Laslett and pursed her mouth towards him. He seemed nonpluss
ed for a moment, then he bent down and kissed the child on the cheek.
‘Hrmph.’ He cleared his throat and then, turning to Dolly, snapped, ‘You can put her to bed whilst her mother has her supper! Somebody else can do whatever you usually do. Where’s Bella? Tell her to organize it.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Dolly said, and put out her hand to Christina, who glanced at her mother. At her nod, she took hold of Dolly’s hand.
‘Night-night, Mama. Will Papa be lonely without us?’
‘Just a little.’ Jenny smiled at her daughter. ‘But he’ll know we’re thinking of him.’
That night as she sat in bed with the drapes partly drawn around her to keep out the draughts, Jenny began to write in her notebook, something she hadn’t done for weeks as there never seemed to be any time.
‘It seems’, she wrote, ‘that Mr St John Laslett is a man of irritable disposition. Stephen told me that he inherited his temper from his father and now I know what he meant. Mr Laslett senior could make a saint blaspheme. He has, however, taken a liking to Christina and ordered the maid, Dolly, to stay with her until she was asleep, in case she was nervous in these strange surroundings. At supper, Arabella asked her father if we might take the carriage tomorrow and ride into Driffield so that I can admire its industry. He refused us the carriage, but said we could take the trap and then needn’t hurry back. I had to explain to Arabella privately later that I could not stay out long because of the babies, and she didn’t at first understand, but Dolly did and said if I feed them in the morning, she will give them some pobs which will last them until I get back again. It seems very odd to me that such things had to be explained to Arabella, but I suppose she has led a sheltered life.
