The Kitchen Maid

by Val Wood

  ‘Then they came back and I don’t know what she had said to the surveyor, but he was quite ashen and shaking. He told me that it was now too dark to do anything more and they both scuttled away.’

  He took the last slice of cheesecake; he’d eaten it all as he’d talked. ‘And then?’ Jenny asked. ‘What happened? Did they come back?’

  He shook his head and wiped his mouth of buttery crumbs. ‘I got a letter three days later.’ He reached to the mantelshelf above the fire and took down a piece of paper. ‘“Dear Sir,” it says. “With regard etc. etc. … following the completion of a survey of your land on behalf of the North Eastern Railway Company, we are of the opinion that the terrain on the original plan is unsuitable for a line.”’ He raised a hand as Jenny gave a relieved sigh. ‘There’s more,’ he muttered. ‘“And will therefore proceed with construction half a mile to the north as outlined on the enclosed plan. You will of course be compensated for any loss of land and revenue and we will ensure that the grave will not be disturbed and will be fenced.”’

  ‘So we lost?’ Jenny stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘What does it mean? They’re cutting your land in half?’

  ‘Not quite half,’ he said glumly, ‘but the grave will be on the other side of the railway line which means that we can’t tend it without crossing the line.’ He put his hands to his head and rubbed his forehead. ‘I’m so tired, Jenny, I can’t fight any more. The money they have offered as compensation is reasonable and it means I can pay George back some of the money I owe him.’

  ‘George?’ Her eyes were filling with tears. ‘George Hill?’

  He nodded. ‘I borrowed from him when Agnes and I first came here. He always said there was no hurry but he’s waited for years and never once asked for it back.’

  ‘But my baby – and Agnes,’ she wept. ‘They’ll be all alone and we won’t be able to see them from the bedroom window as we can now. We’ll only see the railway line and the trains!’

  He nodded wearily. ‘I know. They’ll dig out and build up the embankment, so they’ll be hidden. But at least the line isn’t going right through where they are, as they originally intended. I’d move them,’ he muttered, ‘but it would seem like sacrilege. It’s where Agnes wanted to be.’

  ‘It’s not right.’ She wiped her eyes and continued feeding Johnny, who was reaching out for the bowl of pobs. ‘Is it too late? Is there anyone we can complain to so that they’ll change their minds?’

  Stephen shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. The line’s already out of Beverley. They’ll be up here in a matter of weeks; the area will be swarming with navvies.’ He glanced at her and the twins on her knee. Christina, wrapped in her own little world of imagination, was playing on the floor. ‘There’s something else. You might as well have all the bad news at once.’

  ‘What? There can be nothing worse!’

  ‘There can,’ he said wearily. ‘We must worry now about the living, not the dead. There’s no more milk. That’s the last.’ He nodded towards the milk jug. ‘Daisy’s dried up. Somebody’s coming to fetch her tomorrow. I can’t afford to feed her if she’s not milking.’ He shook his head. ‘And there’s not enough money to buy another cow in calf.’

  She stared at him. ‘We must have milk for the children! Can’t you sell the hay?’

  ‘I wouldn’t get enough for it. Besides, the hay’s needed for the sheep and the horses.’

  ‘Should we keep the sheep?’

  ‘We’ll get mutton,’ he said glumly. ‘And I’ll kill the pig in the autumn. At least we’ll eat.’

  ‘Can we afford a goat? The children could have goat’s milk.’

  Stephen nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve done a deal with a farmer. He’ll let us have a goat and kid and a pig in litter, and he’ll take half our corn when it’s ready.’

  ‘Oh!’ she breathed. ‘And what’ll we do next year?’

  ‘God knows,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You managed before because there were just two of you, you and Agnes,’ Jenny said slowly. ‘Now there are three extra to feed and clothe, four before long.’

  ‘I wanted children,’ he said sharply. ‘And now we’ve got them. We’ll manage, one way or another!’

  They couldn’t afford to pay the midwife and Stephen delivered Thomas just after the twins celebrated their first birthday. It was an easy birth as he was a small child and Jenny was up and about the next day. He was a placid baby, born with a little frown above his nose and similar in temperament to Serena who loved him from the first, as did Christina. Johnny lifted a plump fist to smack him the first time he saw him, and no amount of coaxing from Jenny could ever convince him that Thomas wasn’t there just for him to fight with.

  ‘At least we’ll be popular with Father now,’ Stephen said as he sat down to write to Arabella and tell her the news.

  ‘And unpopular with Maud and Laura,’ Jenny said. ‘They can’t possibly catch up now!’

  ‘Not at the rate ours are arriving,’ Stephen groaned. ‘Four children! I’m going to have to sleep out in the barn!’

  Jenny shared his concern. They didn’t want any more children. Not yet, anyway. They had a vegetable patch for growing potatoes, beans, onions and cabbages and kept back some of the barley crop for making bread and soup. The soup was nourishing enough if she flavoured it with onions and mutton fat, but the barley bread was bitter and dry. But they had no money for clothes or boots and Christina wore only woollen stockings, as she had outgrown her last pair of boots.

  Arabella had given Jenny some cotton sheets when she had stayed with her and these she cut up to make sheets for the babies, and dyed another to make Christina a dress and pinafore. For herself she still wore the skirt she had first arrived in, altering it and letting it out at the seams whenever she was pregnant.

  ‘If I wasn’t so proud I’d go cap in hand to Father.’ Stephen bit on his thumb as he deliberated on their situation.

  ‘But you won’t!’ she said. She had asked Stephen to ask his father, if he had any influence with the railway chiefs, to persuade them to reroute the track so that the grave remained on their side of the line. But he wouldn’t and forbade her to either.

  ‘He didn’t approve of Agnes when she was alive,’ he said angrily. ‘He’s hardly likely to have a change of heart now she’s dead!’

  ‘But baby Agnes?’ she said tearfully. ‘What about her?’

  ‘He has no sentiment.’ He regretted his outburst and reached out to comfort her. ‘She was a female child and didn’t draw breath. He won’t think of her as a person.’

  She knew that he was right, and, she considered, it was probably too late. The railway line was getting closer. If the wind was in the right direction it carried the sound of the clang of metal and the muffled shouts of the navvies.

  He stood up and walked to the window, looking out. ‘I’m going to apply for labouring work.’ The ground was hard with winter frost and the sky hung dark and heavy with the threat of snow. He’d brought in logs and kindling for the fire and a bucket of potatoes from the store in the barn. The beans and cabbages were finished.

  ‘What?’ Jenny turned to him. She was feeding Thomas and drinking water to increase her milk. ‘What kind of labouring work? On one of the farms? Do they need anyone at this time of year?’

  ‘No,’ he said, keeping his back to her. ‘Not on a farm. On the railway.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘But – but you can’t! You’re not a labouring man. You’re a gentleman.’ She stared aghast at him. ‘Stephen!’

  He turned to her. ‘I don’t think you appreciate how bad things are, Jenny.’ His voice was strained. ‘A gentleman!’ He gave a harsh exclamation. ‘Look at my hands.’ He held them up for her to see. ‘I’m a yeoman farmer! A labouring man and not ashamed of it! I’ve been labouring for years, ever since I was a young man.’

  ‘But for yourself,’ she insisted. ‘Not for anyone else.’

  ‘Does it make a difference?’ He came towards her and put
his face close to hers and she felt alarmed by the anger she saw there. ‘Yes. In fact it does, and I’ll tell you what the difference is! I can make up to five shillings a day as a navvy. It means we can buy food and shoes for the children.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘We’re not making any money, and the children have to be fed and clothed!’ He pressed his lips together. ‘It’s no use pretending that I’m the gentleman farmer I might have been. I’ve sold one of the shires, and Christina’s pony,’ he said abruptly. ‘I must have been mad to think we could afford to keep it.’

  Things are bad, she thought. He would never have done that otherwise. He knew how Christina loved that little horse and how proficient she was becoming at riding it.

  ‘Shall we think it over?’ she asked quietly. ‘Try to think of some other solution?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ve been thinking it over for weeks. The railway company need men now; they’re aiming to have the line up and running by May next year. I shall go tomorrow and tell them I can start immediately.’

  Whilst he was away the following morning, Jenny busied herself washing clothes, making barley soup and bread and trying to calm a fractious Johnny. ‘Play with him, Christina,’ she implored the little girl. ‘Try to make him laugh.’

  ‘He’s teefing,’ Christina said solemnly. ‘Getting some new toofs.’

  Jenny smiled. Christina was such a delight. She was always happy, never irritable or cross. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she agreed. She looked down at Johnny as he sat grizzling on the rug in front of the fire. His right cheek was red and his chin was wet. ‘He needs some oil of cloves to rub on his gums.’

  Christina looked puzzled. ‘I need some new cloves too. Papa said.’ She nodded her head. ‘He’s gone to get some.’

  ‘We’ll get some soon,’ Jenny sighed. ‘Not yet,’ then looked up as she heard the rattle of the gate.

  ‘Papa! He’s come back!’ Christina abandoned Johnny and rushed to the door. Johnny started to scream at her departure. Serena, who had been playing quite happily until then by banging two wooden spoons together, started to cry. The noise woke Thomas who had been sleeping in his cradle and he started to wail too.

  ‘No. No, it’s not Papa,’ Jenny said. It was too early for Stephen to come back. He’d taken the horse and waggon to drive into Beverley to ask about railway work. She tried to shut her ears to the crying children and lifted the sneck of the door. It was Stephen’s sister, Pearl.

  ‘Well! Are you going to ask me in?’ Pearl was dressed in a grey travelling gown and feathered hat with neat black-buttoned boots and black gloves and stood determinedly in front of her.

  ‘S-sorry. I was just surprised to see you.’ Jenny opened the door wider and invited her sister-in-law in. ‘I’m afraid there’s rather a noise,’ she apologized, raising her voice above Johnny’s wails.

  ‘Hmm. He does rather a lot of that, doesn’t he?’ Pearl looked sternly down on the youngster who immediately stopped crying.

  ‘He’s cutting teeth,’ Jenny said lamely and was suddenly aware of how poorly clad the children must appear. Christina was barefoot.

  ‘It’s cold in here!’ Pearl said abruptly. ‘Can you not make a better fire?’

  ‘The wood isn’t burning very well.’ Jenny went to stir the fire with the poker. ‘It’s too green.’

  ‘And I suppose you can’t get coal brought up here? It’s too far for delivery?’ Pearl glanced round the room. ‘Do you have fires upstairs?’

  ‘Yes. But I only light them in the evening when it’s very cold,’ Jenny answered in a low voice, suddenly feeling tired and inadequate. ‘The wood has to last us all winter.’

  ‘Where is my brother? Out in the fields? I must say I was surprised at how cut off from civilization you are.’

  ‘We’re not,’ Jenny said defensively. ‘No more than at Laslett Hall. We’re not so very far from ’villages. It’s just that we’re tucked away. Did Arabella tell you where we were?’

  ‘Oh, we’ve always known. It’s just that we didn’t come. Father would never allow it. Well,’ she admitted, ‘I suppose I could have come, but I was a young wife and mother when Stephen first went off and I was always busy with my own family, and then the years slipped by. Should have made the effort really,’ she said bleakly. ‘Stephen was always on my conscience, but it went against the grain, you know, him going off with a married woman the way he did. Arabella was the one who missed him the most. She was only young when he left, too young to understand how shocked everyone was and what a disgrace it was for the family.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Jenny murmured, thinking of what her own mother had said, about no-one mentioning Agnes’s name after she had left her husband.

  Pearl gazed at her. ‘Where did you say Stephen was?’

  ‘He – he’s gone into Beverley. He had a few things to see to.’

  ‘Papa’s gone to get some cloves,’ Christina suddenly piped up. ‘For me.’

  ‘Cloves – the twins are teething.’ Jenny gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Christina thought he said clothes. Would you like a cup of tea? Though I haven’t any lemon,’ she added, remembering that some ladies took lemon with their tea. Tears suddenly filled her eyes. ‘I’m sorry; I’m not very hospitable. You’ve caught me at an awkward time. I haven’t baked. I’m – I’m expecting Stephen to bring back some provisions,’ she lied.

  ‘Are things very bad, Jenny?’ Pearl asked gently. ‘Have you food for the children?’

  Jenny took a breath. ‘No, not at all. Thank you, yes,’ she said. ‘They’ve had gruel this morning and bread, and tonight I’ll stew a rabbit. And we have a goat now instead of the cow. We manage very well.’

  ‘That’s all right then.’ Pearl continued to gaze at her. ‘Because I’ve come on a mission. Father said would I ask you if you’d like to come with the children and spend the winter at Laslett Hall.’

  ‘Is Stephen invited?’ Jenny saw the hesitation on Pearl’s face as she asked the question.

  ‘Would he agree to come? Or is he as stubborn as his father?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said honestly. ‘Not if he was expected to grovel.’

  ‘Would you come without him? You came without him before, but it would be for longer this time. The farmers are saying it will be a hard winter. You could be away for several weeks.’

  Jenny suddenly felt weary. It would be nice to eat well and have someone prepare the meals and do the washing and help look after the children. And if Stephen did obtain work on the railway it would mean she would be here alone all day and probably into the evening. ‘I’ll have to speak to Stephen first. He might not want me to come. He likes to see the children.’

  Pearl nodded. ‘I’ll come back in a day or two. Perhaps Stephen would see me? I hope that he will.’

  ‘Why didn’t Arabella come with you?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘I decided to come alone,’ Pearl said. ‘I wanted to try to make amends for all the bad feeling that went before. As I said, Arabella was only young when Stephen went away and she didn’t know of the things that were said, of the language that was used in anger against Agnes. I realize now that she and Stephen did care for each other; enough’, she added, giving a wistful smile, ‘to leave behind all those who cared for them. I can speak only of Stephen, but Agnes too must have been sad to leave behind her own family.’

  Jenny didn’t answer. She was quite sure that Agnes had always looked forward and never back. There was no-one who had cared for her as much as Stephen had.

  After Pearl had gone, Jenny sat in the chair by the fire and took Christina on her knee. Johnny had curled himself up on the rug and gone to sleep and Serena had lain down next to him. Thomas was asleep in his cradle. The little girl cuddled up to her. ‘Shall we go and see Dolly?’ she asked. ‘And Grandpappy?’

  ‘Would you like that?’ Jenny replied. ‘Would you like to go for a visit?’

  Christina looked up at her and with a start Jenny saw how like Christy she was becomi
ng. The coaxing expression in her eyes was just as Christy’s used to be when there was something he specially wanted. ‘Yes,’ she lisped. ‘And Papa come too?’

  No, he wouldn’t go. Stephen was adamant. ‘I haven’t been asked, and I’ve just got work,’ he stated. ‘I can start tomorrow. Four shillings a day and extra if I work on Sundays. If I work over the winter when there’s little to do here, we can accumulate a tidy sum before the spring. But you could go,’ he said. ‘The children would benefit. There was always a good table at home.’

  ‘Meaning there isn’t here?’ Jenny was stung to reply.

  ‘You know I don’t mean that,’ Stephen answered quickly. ‘I know how well you manage, but right now there’s nothing to manage with!’

  ‘But what about ’pig, and ’hens? And the goat? You’ll need to feed them.’

  ‘I’ll see to them in the mornings and shut them up when I get home at night.’

  ‘It’ll be dark. ’Fox will get the hens.’ She strove for reasons why she shouldn’t go.

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll chance that. Unless you don’t want to go?’ He looked anxiously at her. ‘Don’t you want to, Jenny? If you don’t, say so. But the days will be long.’ He reached out to hold her. ‘And I’ll worry about you being alone here.’

  ‘It’ll be a long winter,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘And I’ll miss you too, and the children,’ he said. ‘But there’ll come a time when Father will want me to go back. And I will, but not with a black mark on me. Not begging for forgiveness. I’ll go back on my terms.’

  When Pearl returned, with Arabella, three days later, Jenny and the children were ready. There was little to pack. Johnny, Serena and Thomas were wearing the cotton petticoats and baby gowns that Jenny had made from the cotton sheeting for Christina. Neither Christina nor the twins were wearing shoes and Jenny saw Pearl cast a glance at their grubby feet.