The Kitchen Maid

by Val Wood

  ‘Aye. But only if you want to,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to. But it’s a start.’

  ‘A start?’ She gazed up at him. ‘A start to what?’

  ‘To your coming back into the world,’ he said. ‘To begin living again. To being yourself.’

  She gave a weak smile. ‘I didn’t realize that you knew me so well, Billy.’

  ‘I know you, Jenny!’ he said softly. ‘Better than you think. Are we going or not? I haven’t told them that I’ve found you, so it’s up to you.’

  He looked so beseechingly at her that she wanted to please him and also, yes, she did want to see her parents. ‘I found you, Billy,’ she reminded him. ‘You didn’t find me.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, we’ll go and see if they’re pleased to see me.’ Then she had a sudden thought. ‘My da? Is he –’

  ‘He’s grand,’ he assured her. ‘Or he was ’last time I saw him. He’s still working down at ’docks.’

  She didn’t know this part of Hull, and was pleasantly surprised by the new terraced housing and shops that were spread along the tree-lined road which led to the Botanic Gardens. The cab drew up outside a grocer’s shop and Billy got out and handed Jenny down. He paid the driver and told him they would walk back into town.

  Jenny took hold of Billy’s arm. She felt sick and nervous and held back as Billy opened the door, causing the bell to ring. The interior smelled of cheese and paraffin, of yeast and boiled bacon, vinegar, spices and tobacco. On the floor were sacks of potatoes and onions and boxes of sweet biscuits. It seemed to be a shop that sold everything. A man in a white apron was behind the counter, slicing up a large round cheese into portions. He looked up and smiled. ‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Nice morning.’ Then he looked again at Billy and his eyes creased in recognition. ‘Mr Brown, isn’t it?’ He grinned, then glanced at Jenny and nodded. ‘Morning, ma’am!’

  ‘It’s Jenny, Joseph,’ she said softly, realizing that her youngest brother, who had been only eight when she had left home, didn’t know her. ‘Have you forgotten me?’

  He looked puzzled for a moment and put his head on one side, raising his eyebrows as he appraised her. ‘Jenny –’ Then his eyes widened. ‘Not our Jenny?’ He took a breath. ‘Not our Jenny?’

  She nodded. ‘’Same!’

  He came round the counter and stood in front of her. ‘I can’t – I don’t –’

  ‘You don’t remember me?’ she said sadly.

  ‘I’m – not sure,’ he said, glancing again at Billy. ‘I still have this picture in my head of how you were! You had long plaits.’ He smiled. ‘They were thick and shiny and I used to pull them, and you were so bright and clever and –’ He put out his hands to her and taking hers he drew her towards him and kissed her cheek. She saw his eyes mist over. ‘We’ve missed you,’ he said, and then, as if gathering himself together, he pulled her along with him and went to an inner door. He opened it and yelled up the stairs. ‘Ma! Da! Come down here! Our Jenny’s come back!’

  Jenny’s mother hobbled down the stairs and stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip in a familiar position. ‘I knew you’d be back sooner or later,’ she said in a cracked voice. ‘I said to your da, I said, she’ll be back when she’s good and ready. Didn’t think it’d tek you so long, though.’ She didn’t offer to give Jenny a kiss or a hug, but then Jenny would have been surprised if she had. Her mother had never been demonstrative.

  But Jenny’s father pushed past his wife and wept as he put his arms round her. ‘I thought we’d never see you again, lass.’ He blew his nose. ‘What kept you so long?’

  ‘This young fella’s been looking for you for years,’ her mother said. ‘Shouldn’t be surprised if he’s not sweet on you. Come on,’ she said, turning towards the stairs. ‘You’d better come on up and tell us what you’ve been up to.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Jenny spoke little on the train journey back to Beverley and Billy wisely didn’t talk or ask any questions. She felt drained; so much emotion had been expended on the meeting with her family. She had been tense at first, unsure of what to tell them; but then her mother asked about ‘the bairn’, meaning Christina, and she told her about the other children and that she was a widow. Her father had been very emotional and said that he had worried over her constantly until her letter had arrived, telling of her marriage, and then he had felt relieved, though he was sorry to hear now of her husband’s death.

  Billy told them that he and Jenny were going to be married and asked them to come to the wedding and there were smiles about that. There was much more that could have been discussed, but they were all hesitant. So many years had passed that it was difficult to know where to begin. But the ice was broken and the next time would be easier.

  After they left them to walk back into the town, Billy showed her his two shops. He slipped in to greet his employees and proudly told Jenny they were doing well.

  ‘Are you rich, Billy?’ she joked, but he answered in all seriousness that he considered that he was.

  The next day in Beverley, Billy collected her from Christina’s house to drive her back to the station to catch the Driffield train. What am I to do? Jenny brooded. I was going to discuss my fears with him, and I haven’t, nor have I told him that I think he might regret marrying me. It would be surely better for everyone if I stayed where I am, hidden away. I’m thinking of Billy and I’m thinking of Christina. But no, if I’m honest, I’m thinking of myself.

  ‘Stop,’ she called suddenly as she saw two people riding on one horse, travelling in the opposite direction. ‘Stop a minute. I know them.’

  ‘Gypsies!’ Billy said. ‘Why do you want to stop?’

  She climbed down. ‘They stay on Stephen’s – Christina’s – land.’ She hailed the Romanies and went across to them. Floure slipped down from the horse. She was barefoot, her feet brown and muddy beneath her cotton skirt. She wore a shawl round her head and beneath it Jenny saw the glint of gold earrings.

  ‘Hello, lady.’ Floure gazed at her.

  ‘Do you still stay at Lavender Cott?’ Jenny asked her. ‘I haven’t been for some time.’

  Floure nodded gravely. ‘Your chi, she said that we could,’ she said huskily.

  ‘Oh, yes, I know she did,’ Jenny flustered. ‘I only wondered if you still did.’

  ‘Tell her to come back,’ the Romany muttered. ‘Her and her rom. The house needs them. It needs chavvies there to come alive again.’

  ‘Chavvies? What do you mean?’ Jenny half understood, and an idea formed in her mind.

  Floure smiled. ‘Children. Tell her to come.’

  ‘I will.’ Jenny smiled back. ‘Why are you here in Beverley? Have you come for the horse fairs?’

  ‘No. To sell a horse. Mr Johnson has bought one from us.’

  ‘Oh!’ What a coincidence, Jenny thought, and told her, ‘Mr Johnson is a friend of mine.’

  ‘Aye, I knows it. We’ve seen your chavi there.’ She gazed earnestly at Jenny, her dark eyes probing. ‘Tell her to come back. We’re moving soon to the country fairs; the house and land will be empty.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll tell her.’ And what about me, Jenny wanted to say. What shall I do?

  ‘Your life is in your own hands,’ the Romany murmured and before turning away, added, ‘It always was.’

  The summer passed quickly. The weather was hot with light rain during the evenings, which promised an early harvest. Jenny made instinctive arrangements towards her wedding, even though she was still having doubts about it. She shared these doubts with no-one and acted as if all was well. She asked the servants to clean the house from top to bottom so that Arabella didn’t have too much to organize after she was married, for Arabella was glum at the prospect of being once more at her father’s beck and call.

  ‘I know I’m being selfish, Jenny,’ she said. ‘But you’re so much better at this kind of thing. You’ve done it yourself, after all.’

  Yes, Jenny thought. As if I needed reminding that I was once a kitchen maid. I hav
en’t ever forgotten. But she said nothing and only assured her sister-in-law that the servants knew exactly what to do. ‘Dolly will make sure that everything is done properly,’ she said. ‘And it isn’t as if I’m leaving altogether. I’m going to be here often. I must,’ she added fervently, ‘for I need to see Thomas and William.’

  ‘I don’t see how you can split yourself in two,’ Arabella grumbled petulantly. ‘And it also means that I shall be tied to the house! Are you sure this is what you want, Jenny?’ she implored. ‘Perhaps Mr Brown would wait a little longer? Until the boys are older.’

  Jenny knew very well that Arabella wasn’t thinking of the boys at all, but only of herself, but she held her tongue and promised that she would make sure that Dolly took full responsibility over the servants.

  She spoke to Dolly one afternoon as together they were rehanging clean curtains. ‘Miss Arabella is worrying over what will happen to ’housekeeping after my marriage,’ she told her. ‘I’ll spend most of my time in Beverley, but I’ll come here at least one or two days in the week.’

  ‘Why, you’ll wear yourself out, Mrs Laslett!’ Dolly said. ‘You’ll want to see your boys, of course, but you and Miss Arabella don’t have to worry about ’housekeeping or ’kitchen.’ She gave an apologetic grin. ‘Miss Arabella never did have much idea about running a household, begging your pardon, ma’am, but you’ve got everything organized so we’ll just carry on as if you were here.’

  ‘Thank you, Dolly. That will ease my mind. And I’ll still arrange ’ordering of groceries with Cook, just as I do at present.’

  Dolly looked thoughtful as she arranged the curtains into folds. ‘Begging your pardon, Mrs Laslett, but perhaps it’d be as well if Miss Arabella discussed that with Cook as well. Once you’re settled back in Beverley again, you might not be inclined to come over just to arrange ’groceries!’

  It was a mere slip of the tongue, and Jenny might not have noticed the reference to being settled again in Beverley, but Dolly took in a sudden breath and blushed scarlet.

  Jenny swallowed and bent her head. Was it just an error? How could Dolly know? Jenny had come to Laslett Hall from Lavender Cott with her children. Why should Dolly know that she had previously lived in Beverley? Unless— Jenny glanced at the servant. She was plainly embarrassed and biting her lips together, though her blush was fading.

  ‘What I mean is, Mrs Laslett,’ Dolly said, ‘when you’re married to Mr Brown.’ She stopped and faced Jenny. ‘I’m sorry. It’s nothing to do wi’ me. I’m speaking out of turn – and’, she took a deep breath, ‘I don’t usually do that.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Jenny agreed. ‘You’re always discreet. Have you always been?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Dolly lowered her eyes. ‘Always. I’m not one for gossip.’

  ‘And have you heard gossip?’ Jenny had to know. It was vital that she did.

  ‘No, ma’am. I haven’t.’ Dolly pressed her lips together and paused. ‘Not heard. Onny seen for myself.’

  Jenny lowered herself into a chair. She could feel a pulse hammering in her temples and she felt suddenly weak and vulnerable. ‘What? What have you seen?’

  Dolly walked to the door and closed it, then she came back and stood in front of Jenny. ‘I once worked as a chambermaid in one of ’old inns in Beverley,’ she said quietly. ‘We’d heard, ’other servants and me, I mean, about Christopher Ingram’s death, and that one of ’servants was being blamed for it.’ She put her hand over her mouth and paused as she took a breath.

  ‘We –’ She lowered her hand and toyed with the collar of her dress. ‘We were right worried that she was being accused of something she mebbe didn’t do. Servants get ’blame for all sorts of things – things going missing or getting broken and that, and we said that when it was ’time of ’hearing, whoever had time off would go to ’courtroom and report back to the others. And it was me,’ she added in a whisper. ‘It was me that was there; and I saw you.’ Her last few words were almost inaudible.

  Jenny trembled. This was a nightmare that she had always known would come true one day.

  ‘I knew I’d never forget you,’ Dolly went on. ‘You looked so young and frightened, and I said to ’other maids that I thought mebbe he’d taken advantage of you and that was why you were leaving; though I couldn’t work out why he had a gun. We were pleased’, she said, ‘when you were acquitted, but we talked of what would become of you, and who would give you another position with that hanging over you.’

  She said apologetically, ‘I’d forgotten all about you until the day I first saw you at Lavender Cott as Mr Stephen’s wife, but I recognized you straight away. You’ve hardly changed at all. Nobody else knows,’ she hastened to add. ‘I’ve never told Cook or anybody.’

  Jenny slowly nodded her head. ‘Good,’ she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. ‘Good. Because – because not everyone would understand that it was – it was a terrible accident.’ She wondered how Dolly could have kept such information to herself. It seemed incredible that she had. But it was a long time ago, and maybe people from the Wolds wouldn’t have been interested in old gossip from Beverley. She was also comforted to think that there had been people, servants, who hadn’t known her, but had been sympathetic towards her. ‘I’ve tried to make another life, Dolly,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried to forget what happened.’

  ‘And now you’re going back there, ma’am. I think you’re very brave, though mebbe folks won’t remember.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ Jenny said huskily, thinking that if Dolly had, then so would others. She rose from her chair and effectively dismissed the subject, though she felt churned up and anxious. ‘Let’s hope it’s been forgotten. Just a seven-day wonder.’

  * * *

  They were to be married in St Mary’s church, in Beverley. Billy had asked her if she would, and reluctantly she had agreed. ‘It means a lot to me,’ he said. ‘Folks don’t believe that ’bachelor Billy Brown is to be married at last.’

  Christina, too, had begged her to leave for the church from her house. ‘Please do, Mama,’ she wrote. ‘I have something important to say to you and I want to tell you before your wedding.’

  What? Jenny wondered. What has she to tell me that she can’t say in a letter? Has she found out that I once worked in her house as a kitchen maid? Has she discovered how her father died? I should have told her! Should have warned her! Jenny paced to and fro in her room with the letter held in her hand, unheeding of the jobs she needed to organize, unaware of the warm sun shining in at the window, or smell of autumn wood smoke drifting in the light breeze. Will she turn against me? Or is it something else? Has she happy news to impart?

  A light knock came on the door and Serena put her head inside. ‘I’ve come to help you, Mama,’ she said brightly.

  ‘Help me?’ Jenny asked bleakly. ‘With what?’

  ‘Your packing, of course.’ Serena brought out boxes from behind her back. ‘I’ve bought you something for your trousseau. I went shopping in Geneva. There are some wonderful shops there,’ she said dreamily, ‘so this is what I bought.’

  She opened one of the boxes and unwrapped layers of soft white paper. ‘You’ve never bought anything pretty for yourself, so I asked Grandpa for some extra pocket money. I told him I needed some more books,’ she added blithely, and grinned at her mother’s shocked expression. ‘No, I didn’t.’ She laughed. ‘I told him I wanted to buy you a wedding present. There!’ She held up a white silk garment whose hem was edged with lace. ‘It’s a bed gown,’ she said softly. ‘Isn’t it enchanting?’

  Jenny was speechless. The gown was far too lovely to wear in bed.

  ‘And look.’ Serena held up another gown in the same white silk, only open at the front with silk ribbons to fasten it. ‘It’s a peignoir,’ she explained, seeing the blankness on her mother’s face. ‘You wear it before dressing. Whilst you’re brushing your hair and creaming your face and such,’ she added.

  ‘But – Serena!’ Jenny found her voice. ‘I
’m to be a butcher’s wife! They’re much too grand for me.’

  Serena came across to her and kissed her cheek. ‘No, they’re not,’ she whispered. ‘You deserve it. And Mr Brown will be delighted, I’m sure.’

  ‘Serena!’ Jenny was shocked. What else had her daughter learnt in Switzerland?

  There were other treasures in the box. Two pairs of white silk stockings, and lacy undergarments, the like of which Jenny had never seen. Then, carefully opening another box, Serena brought out a delightful concoction of a hat. It was fashioned from grey silk with a silver thread running through it, with a half-veil.

  ‘I – I was going to wear a bonnet,’ Jenny stammered. ‘I bought a new one.’ With a large brim to shield my face, she thought.

  ‘I know.’ Serena smiled. ‘Christina and I have been in correspondence about your trousseau and she told me the colour of your gown and so I bought the hat to complement it. Try it on. Oh, Mama! Don’t cry. Did I do wrong?’

  Jenny shook her head, too overcome to speak, and tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I – I don’t deserve this,’ she eventually faltered.

  ‘Of course you do!’ Serena had somehow become mature and wise. ‘We’re going to make sure this is the best day of your life.’

  Jenny wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘The best days, my darling,’ she mumbled, ‘were when I had all of you.’

  ‘And you have given up your days ever since, Mama, to making all of us happy,’ Serena said softly. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Jenny was brought by carriage to Christina and Charles’s house in New Walk on the morning before her wedding was due to take place. Serena, Thomas and William were coming with their grandfather and Arabella the next morning. There had been no word yet from Johnny. Jenny had barely slept the night before for worrying as to whether she was doing right by Billy.