by Val Wood
‘I won’t keep you, Cook,’ Jenny began. She cast her eyes round the spacious kitchen and saw the worn flagstones, the grimy kitchen range which was in need of black-leading and the cracked kitchen window. ‘I realize you have supper to prepare, but I wanted to ask what you needed from the new maid.’
‘I need her to transform herself into three people, ma’am, for one maid isn’t enough.’ Cook’s tone was sharp. ‘Can’t expect one young maid to clean this lot,’ she waved her arm around the kitchen, ‘and help me cook as well. But ’master won’t hear of it.’
‘But you have a scullery maid,’ Jenny said. ‘So you’ll have two.’
‘She’s onny good for scrubbing floors and pans, no experience at all. I need another maid to help with ’vegetables and watch over ’stove.’
There are usually only two people to cater for, Jenny thought. Mr Laslett and Arabella. Why should she want more people to help than there are people to serve?
Then the cook’s remark broke into her thoughts. ‘We’ve farm hands to cook for as well, ma’am. It’s not just ’master and Miss Arabella. Mr Laslett’s been to Hirings and tekken on more farm lads. And he’s took on a new hind, but he’s a single man without a wife to help wi’ cooking. I wish they could live out, but he’s put ’em at back of ’house and in ’stables so that means I’ve to feed ’em.’
‘I see! I didn’t realize,’ Jenny said. ‘Well, then, of course you must have more help.’ She gave a little frown. ‘I’ll try to speak to Mr Laslett about it,’ she said. ‘Although of course I am only acting on Miss Arabella’s behalf whilst she is – er – unwell.’
Cook sniffed. ‘Aye, well begging her pardon, but I’ve mentioned it afore and nowt came of it.’ She looked at Jenny with a kind of pleading. ‘You could tell him that I’ll leave if I don’t get some help.’ She sighed. ‘But he wouldn’t believe it for he knows I won’t.’
Jenny nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised, and as she walked to the door, remarked, ‘’Kitchen could do with a lick of paint, couldn’t it?’
Cook gave a disgruntled laugh. ‘If you could manage that, and more staff, I’d think you’d been sent from heaven – ma’am,’ she added.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘More servants!’ John Laslett bellowed. ‘I’ve just taken on two new maids! Why should we want more?’
‘Cook needs extra kitchen staff, Mr Laslett,’ Jenny explained. ‘She’s cooking for ’farmhands as well as ’house.’
‘If she can’t manage, then she’d better leave and I’ll find somebody who can,’ he said irritably.
‘That’s what she said,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Will you be able to find someone before she leaves? I think she might be willing to give you a month’s notice.’
‘God damn it,’ he roared. ‘It’s not my job to find a cook! Where’s Bella? She should be doing this!’
‘She’s unwell,’ Jenny said. ‘She’s taking supper in her room.’ Although she had been doubtful of this ruse when Arabella suggested it, she realized now that it had been a good idea. Arabella’s father would have shouted her down and insisted that there would be no more servants.
‘What’s the matter with her? Damned women are always ailing!’
‘That’s it, sir. It’s a woman’s complaint.’
That shut him up altogether. That subject was not for discussion.
‘Of course, to run the house properly, you really need a laundry maid as well as an extra kitchen maid. And then ’laundry maid could help in the kitchen.’
He glared at her. ‘What do you mean – run the house properly? It runs properly now!’
‘Begging your pardon, sir, but I’m afraid it doesn’t.’ Jenny turned her face away from him.
‘Out with it, woman. What do you mean?’
‘Well.’ She hesitated. Was it up to her to point out the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling paintwork and the cobwebs on the highest reaches of the cornices? ‘It’s not very clean, sir. I don’t suppose there’s been any decorating since Mrs Laslett died? Not in ’kitchens, anyway. If you could see your way to taking on temporary staff to clean through, then it would make life easier for ’regular staff to manage.’
He frowned. Then pursed his lips. ‘Place looks perfectly all right to me! And I’m not about to make life easier for servants. They get on with what they have to do and if they don’t like it they can leave!’
‘Yes.’ Jenny took her place at the table as Dolly brought in the supper dishes. ‘I expect that is what they do.’
He glanced sourly at her but said nothing. Jenny dished up a large slice of game pie onto a plate and handed it to him. Then she pushed a tureen of steaming potatoes towards him for him to help himself, followed by a dish of buttered carrots. Dolly opened the door carrying a gravy boat. ‘Sorry, sir, I forgot to bring ’gravy.’
They ate in silence and Jenny felt a tight knot in her chest, which was preventing her from enjoying her supper. ‘Of course,’ she said quietly, ‘if Cook leaves, I expect Dolly will go too. You’ll perhaps need to get a housekeeper then, as well as a cook.’
His mouth was open and about to take a bit of game pie. He put down his fork and glared at her. ‘Can I finish my supper? If you don’t mind!’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘I might discuss it later.’
‘Sorry.’ Jenny wondered if he might send her packing tomorrow if he thought she was being a nuisance. ‘The children are settling in,’ she said brightly. ‘Johnny is walking well now, though he was a week or two behind Serena. I caught him trying to climb ’stairs to the attics.’
Her father-in-law grunted, then said, ‘You’ll have to watch him. Mind he doesn’t get into mischief. If he’s anything like Stephen –’ He broke off suddenly, then passed his plate towards her. ‘I’ll have another slice of pie.’
Dolly cleared away when they had finished and brought in an apple sponge pudding and a jug of custard. Jenny felt that she hadn’t eaten so well in weeks.
‘Beg pardon, Mrs Laslett,’ Dolly said, and John Laslett started and stared at her and then at Jenny. ‘I can hear one of ’babbies crying,’ she said. ‘Shall I go up?’
‘No, I’ll go,’ Jenny said. ‘You have enough to do.’ She put down her napkin and, excusing herself, ran up the stairs to the children’s room. ‘It’s freezing in here,’ she muttered and put another piece of coal on the low fire. She picked Johnny up, for he it was who was crying. His legs were cold under his nightgown, for he had kicked off his blanket and had climbed out of bed. He babbled at her on being picked up and patted her cheek with his fist.
She smiled, and on a sudden impulse wrapped him in his blanket and took him downstairs. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mr Laslett,’ she said as she went back into the dining room. ‘But he’s cold and won’t go to sleep again until he’s warm.’ She sat down again at the table with Johnny on her knee and continued to eat her pudding. Johnny, with his mouth open, reached out for her spoon, and she fed him a small amount of custard. He pointed at John Laslett, who was watching them closely, then at his mother and then at the pudding.
Jenny smiled. It was nice when Johnny was happy. Quite often he was a demanding child. ‘Grandfather has his own pudding, Johnny,’ she murmured. ‘He doesn’t want ours.’
Johnny slid out of his blanket and off her knee and toddled towards his grandfather. He stood looking at him as curious children do, pointed at his boots, which he was wearing as usual, and then patted his grandfather’s knees with both hands. John Laslett pushed back his chair and bent towards him. ‘Now then, young fellow-me-lad, what do you want? Time you were asleep in bed.’
Johnny put both arms up to him and to Jenny’s amazement her father-in-law picked the child up and placed him on his knee; and there he still was when Dolly came in to clear away. Dolly opened and closed her mouth, and when Jenny asked would she take Johnny back up to bed, she gulped and cleared her throat. ‘Yes, Mrs Laslett,’ she said.
‘Our children never came downstairs after supper,’ John Lasl
ett remarked, as he left the table, but she didn’t take it as disapproval. ‘Not when they were small, anyway.’
‘Stephen likes to see his children,’ she said. ‘And as we live in a small house without a separate dining room, we have to eat together.’
‘Hmph,’ he grunted, looking at her from beneath shaggy eyebrows. ‘Manage all right, do you? For money, I mean?’
‘We manage,’ she said, remembering that they had had a similar conversation on her last visit.
He paused for a moment and then said, ‘We’ll go into the sitting room.’ She led the way across the hall, where the dogs were lying by the fire, into the sitting room and closed the curtains. Then she threw another log on the fire. She sat down and folded her hands on her lap and waited for him to stop prowling about the room and say something.
‘I could never work out how he paid for that house and land. He had nothing when he left. Not even his allowance.’ He sat across from her and stared into the flames. ‘He wasn’t even twenty-one when he went off. He was just a lad.’
‘He was a man,’ she said quietly. ‘He knew what he wanted.’
‘So where did he get the money from?’ he demanded, his brusque manner returning. ‘Borrowed it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, even though she now knew it had come from George Hill. ‘I didn’t know him then.’
‘It can’t have been hers,’ he muttered. ‘She’d have come with nothing.’
‘A love match then?’ she suggested softly. ‘It must have been very hard for them both. She giving up a home and a husband.’ Though she was well rid of him from what I have heard, Jenny thought, which Mr Laslett doesn’t know.
He gave a deep sigh and nodded. ‘And him giving up his inheritance.’ He glanced around the room. ‘All of this. House. Land. Farms. Everything. All for a woman!’
‘Stephen would have come back,’ she said. ‘If you’d accepted Agnes.’
‘Never,’ he snorted. ‘It was a scandal! My wife lost face. Didn’t go out for almost a year!’
‘He wanted to see his mother,’ Jenny said softly. ‘He was denied that.’
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. There was something hidden there, some regret or sorrow, but he simply barked at her: ‘Well, that was his punishment, wasn’t it? He gave us all up for that woman. His mother. Sisters. Me!’ He was silent for a moment, and then said, ‘And how do you feel about that? Do you feel like second best, being a second wife?’
‘I love Stephen,’ she said. ‘And he loves me.’ But his words hurt and she wondered if it was true. Was she second best? It was true they hadn’t gone into marriage with love, but then not everyone did, she pondered. Not the people of the St John Laslett society, anyway. People of my background do, if they have the chance. But then she realized that that was wrong too, for Agnes had been forced into a loveless marriage by her father.
‘We have to take a chance, now and again,’ she said, her eyes lowered. ‘And I took one with Stephen in spite of our differences. He had loved and lost, as I had. We were able to comfort each other.’
‘Hmph.’ He gave a low grunt. ‘Yes,’ he said, almost apologetically.
They sat in silence for a while, and Jenny, unaccustomed to being idle, began to fidget and consider going up to her room. She had brought scissors and sewing materials from home and thought she could make a start on altering the clothes that Pearl had given her, and possibly cutting up one of the skirts to make Christina a day dress.
‘So what about this servant business, then?’ Mr Laslett abruptly interrupted her flow of thought. ‘What do you think we should do about it? I’ll concede to one more maid, if it’s necessary, but no more than that!’
‘Well, it’s not really for me to say,’ she began, but he interrupted.
‘You’ve already said. You told me the house wasn’t being run properly.’
She blushed. Perhaps she had gone too far. It really should be Arabella’s decision. She was mistress of the house. ‘I’m only a guest, Mr Laslett. Perhaps I shouldn’t have commented.’ And who am I to say anything, she thought. I’ve only been a servant myself. But then, I can see it from both sides.
He stared full at her. ‘You’re not just a guest! I invited you here as family. To bring the children. My grandsons who might –’ He lifted a warning finger. ‘Only might, mind – inherit one day. That’s if they don’t do anything stupid like their father did. So what’s needed? Arabella’s not going to say, even if she noticed! Why, when her mother was alive, everything ran like clockwork. The servants knew their place – and they stayed, weren’t asking for their wages or giving in their notice every quarter!’
‘That’s because they knew who was in charge,’ Jenny said. ‘And I expect she knew who they all were and what they did. It’s very important, that,’ she said, remembering again that Mrs Ingram hadn’t known her name. ‘Everybody needs to feel that their work is important.’
‘Huh,’ he humphed. ‘Well, of course it’s important! Even a general lad has to do a good job otherwise he’s of no earthly use. But you’ve got to tell ’em what to do! They’ve no sense of their own. Rules are rules. No use in spoiling ’em or standards slip!’
She gave a small sigh. That was true, anyway. He wasn’t going to change his attitude, but if he was willing to compromise she could lay down some rules for Arabella to follow when she had gone.
‘I quite agree.’ She smiled. ‘So you’re willing to take on another kitchen maid, and have ’kitchen painted?’
‘Did I say I would have the kitchen painted? Good God, woman. You’ll have me bankrupt!’
‘It would only take one man, sir, and ’general lad could help to clean up.’
‘He’s a bit lame,’ he said gruffly. ‘The lad I’ve got. I took him on at Driffield Hirings. But he reckons he’s strong. And I suppose I could set one of the farm lads on whilst we’re a bit slack. Aye,’ he conceded. ‘All right then.’
Jenny hid her astonishment. Maybe Mr Laslett wasn’t as hard as he appeared to be. He just needed to be persuaded.
‘Another kitchen maid? And ’kitchen painted? By heck! That’s nobbut fine, ma’am.’ The cook fairly beamed at Jenny. ‘I wonder if he’d find his way to painting yon back room?’ She nodded towards a door set back and to the side of the range. ‘Where ’farm men eat,’ she added.
‘Don’t they eat in here?’ Jenny hadn’t noticed the door when she had come to the kitchens last time. ‘What’s through there?’
Cook waddled across to the door and turned the large iron key. It opened into a large room with a fireplace, a table and several wooden chairs. At the end of the room was a wooden ladder leading into what appeared to be a loft. A cold draught was blowing down and it was quite cheerless.
‘Is this where the men live?’ Jenny asked. She had never seen such a place before. ‘It’s very cold,’ she said. ‘Don’t they have a fire?’
‘Aye, if we’ve time, ’fire’s lit afore they come in at ’end of the day. Otherwise they light it themselves, although they don’t allus bother but go straight up to bed.’
Jenny went to the bottom of the ladder and looked up, then lifted her skirt and climbed four or five steps so that she could peer into the void. She saw a row of straw mattresses and several wooden trunks: the farm boxes which would contain the men’s possessions. She carefully stepped down. ‘Get the scullery maid to light a fire at least an hour before they come in,’ she said to the cook. ‘And tell the lad to clean it out in a morning and lay it ready. They need a bit of comfort if they’ve been out in the fields all day, and they might not want to go to bed. They might prefer to talk or play cards after their supper.’
Cook eyed her cautiously. ‘’Master’ll say we’re setting a rod for our own backs,’ she said. ‘They’re not used to such comforts.’
‘How often does Mr Laslett come down here?’ Jenny asked.
‘Why, nivver, ma’am. Not so far as I know.’
‘Well, there you are then,’ Jenny said triumph
antly. ‘Unless he asks, he’s not going to know, and if he does ask then refer him to me.’ She took a breath. I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, she thought. ‘And when the kitchen has been painted,’ she told the cook, ‘ask the painter to put a wash over these walls as well.’
‘I’m right glad you’re here, ma’am,’ Cook said. ‘You’ll be stopping for a bit, will you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Jenny replied. ‘For a few weeks anyway.’
She found it strange, yet exhilarating, to be giving out orders to the servants and being able to ensure that the house ran well. But I must be careful not to get above myself, she pondered. No-one here knows that I was just a kitchen maid, only Mr Laslett and he’s not likely to say anything. And he doesn’t know my history. But if it should get out and anyone should have heard of me— She felt a cold shudder down her spine. Then I would be barred from here, and my children too, just as Agnes was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A week later another maid was hired as well as the two new ones taken on by Cook and Dolly; the painter had started on the kitchen and the young lad, Ben, was assisting him. The weather had turned to sleet and so one of the farm labourers was given the job of scraping down the walls in the room used by the men. He’d lit a fire to air the place, he’d told Cook, who passed on the word to Dolly, who then passed it on to Jenny, and said he could be heard whistling.
‘He’ll think it a treat, ma’am,’ she said. ‘He’s warm and dry and is getting extra cups of tea!’
‘I’m feeling much better, Jenny,’ Arabella said one morning, having come down to breakfast. ‘I’m so glad that you are here. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been around to see to everything.’
‘But, Arabella! You weren’t ill,’ Jenny reminded her again. ‘Don’t make yourself ill by thinking that you are. My ma used to say –’ She stopped. Better not mention her mother, Arabella might start to enquire.
