by Jean Stubbs
Kate Kipping had succumbed to the influenza, and Annie Cox rose from her own flock mattress to help out Harriet. Nanny Nagle and Blanche had shared the illness: the one in great discontent, the other with patient acceptance. But Mrs Hill soldiered on, upholstered by her excellent catering; and, as Henry said of himself, the demon drink kept all other demons off. Harriet, red-cheeked and hearty, waited on at the dinner which should have brought an evening’s harmony to the household.
‘Where is Kate?’ Theodore demanded, over Harriet’s willing head.
‘She is still abed, Theodore.’
‘Stuff and nonsense. Coddling herself because you spoil her. Watch what you are doing, girl!’ As Harriet spilled the brown Windsor soup. ‘Take that back to the kitchen. I will not drink soup from a slopped plate.’
‘Come, brother,’ said Titus cheerfully. ‘You frighten her into further feats of clumsiness – and the poor wench is clumsy enough already, God knows. Her hands are not so pretty as Kate’s, either!’
‘I beg of you, Theodore,’ Laura pleaded, though with an edge to the plea that brought Theodore’s head up, ‘do not so discompose Harriet that we have no dinner at all. Mrs Hill has gone to some pains, and the girl does her best.’
‘Which is not nearly good enough. She has been here some years. Harriet, how long have you been with us?’ As she returned, scarlet from a kitchen scolding as well as a dining room one.
‘Six, sir.’
‘And have you not learned to wait at table correctly in all that time? If you cannot manage without help fetch someone else from downstairs.’
‘Whom would you like?’ Laura asked, dangerously serene. ‘Mrs Hill or Annie Cox the kitchenmaid?’
‘Please, ma’am,’ murmured poor Harriet. ‘I don’t think as Annie would be suitable.’
‘Nor more do I. Carry this soup plate very carefully, if you please.’
Theodore drank from it in suppressed anger, glancing at his wife.
‘You are not taking anything, I see, Laura. Are you feeling unwell?’
‘I rarely feel well, but I have not caught the influenza, if that is what worries you, Theodore.’
‘I saw a most capital show at the Egyptian Hall the other week,’ said Titus. ‘It was The Moore and Burgess Minstrels, and the theatre is now illumined throughout by electric light. You would have laughed so much, Laura. There was a gloriously funny sketch, called The Phour Phunny Phellows. The F spelled as PH. Really capital!’
‘I do not care for such things,’ said Theodore. ‘Take this plate away, girl, and hurry. Is Kate not well enough to get up for an evening, Laura?’
‘She has scarcely been abed four days. You took a fortnight, if you remember. She will get up tomorrow, Theodore.’
The soup plates were slippery, and Harriet made the mistake of setting the tureen on top of them, from which perch it slithered gracefully to the carpet.
‘I cannot have this. I really cannot. Fetch that other girl from the kitchen to help this one. And tell her to bring a damp cloth or there will be a mark in the carpet. It is a very good Indian carpet. I will not have it marked.’
‘Bring Annie, Harriet, but let her stay outside the door during the serving,’ whispered Laura.
Ducking her head to hide her tears, the housemaid retreated.
‘I was fortunate to hear something you would have liked very well,’ Titus interposed. ‘Sir Charles Hallé and his Manchester Band performed most agreeably in the St James’s Hall on 7 February. It was a final appearance before he departed for Australia on tour.’
Theodore did not answer, tapping his fingers on the table, watching for the maids.
‘They gave the Concerto for two violins, in D minor, Laura. The one you like so much, by Bach. And there was the Peer Gynt Suite. And the Eroica.’
‘How elegant!’ she cried, watching Theodore watch for trouble.
Annie Cox crept in, paralysed by the presence of the great and powerful, with a wet cloth in her red hands. Under Theodore’s outraged eyes she cleaned the soup from the carpet, bobbed a curtsey, and disappeared.
‘Is that the kitchenmaid, Laura?’
‘Certainly it is the kitchenmaid. We do not employ anyone else.’
He motioned Harriet to go out, and she, carrying a saddle of mutton, collided with Annie and put the joint in some peril. Together, they trembled in the hall, waiting for orders.
‘I dislike your tone, Mrs Crozier,’ said Theodore softly. ‘I dislike it exceedingly. I beg you to change it, madam, or you and I will disagree.’
She opened her mouth to answer him, was silenced by a rapid movement of Titus’s hand, and closed it.
‘Now, if you are in a correct frame of mind, madam, we will continue with dinner. Harriet!’
Had the tension been less, or humour stronger, the efforts of Harriet and Annie would have caused more amusement than the Phour Phunny Phellows. As it was, Laura ceased to eat at all, and Theodore’s progress was punctuated by exclamations of disgust. Alone among them, Titus struggled against a desire to laugh.
‘It is like a concerto for two violins that are out of tune!’ he ventured, as they went for the castle puddings.
Laura and Theodore stared past him, unhearing, into their two dark separate worlds. He shrugged, and wiped a drop of gravy from the cloth.
‘Mr Tree and the Haymarket Theatre Company are appearing at the Crystal Palace in A Man’s Shadow, Laura. It has had enormous success. I must take you both to see it.’
‘That would be most delightful,’ she replied, colourless with anger.
‘Or Imre Kiralfy’s Nero is still on, and much praised. Let us arrange an evening.’
‘I thought we had arranged an evening, at my house,’ cried Theodore to his wife. ‘But apparently Mrs Crozier is unable to order her servants properly.’
‘I will not bear this!’ she answered, casting down her napkin. ‘You have spoiled what little appetite I had. I ask you to excuse me.’
‘Sit down, madam!’ Theodore shouted. ‘Sit down. I order you!’
For a moment she looked as though she would faint, then sat again. During the remainder of the meal, which she did not eat, she watched Harriet upset Theodore’s castle pudding on its side and spill the egg custard, without comment. Titus made no more effort to stem the flood of his brother’s bad temper. The maids got through as best they could, and breathed relief as they set the decanter of port and the dish of walnuts.
‘May I go now?’ Laura asked, and walked trembling to her drawing-room.
‘I beg pardon, ma’am,’ Harriet whispered, managing the coffee cups without disaster. ‘I do beg pardon. I meant to do like Kate. I did indeed.’
‘It is of no consequence. We are all a little upset by the illness in the house. You may go now, Harriet. Please to congratulate Mrs Hill on the dinner.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.’
Titus and Theodore were not ten minutes over their port. He had thought of a fresh humiliation, and was anxious to put it into execution.
‘Mrs Crozier,’ he said, over his cup, ‘you are still in the guest-room.’
‘I thought it best until all the infection is cleared.’
‘You say you are not ill, and Padgett tells me one cannot catch the influenza twice. You must come back to your own bedroom as is right and proper.’
‘Very well,’ she replied slowly. ‘I will ask Kate to move my things tomorrow, if that is what you wish.’
‘I wish to have your things moved at once. Tonight.’
It was open war, and she stared about her for an answer or an ally.
‘Why, brother, you must curb your ardour,’ said Titus gaily and unwisely. ‘Your staff has shortcomings enough at the moment, without making a muddle of two bedrooms. Besides, they will be at their own supper – unless Harriet dropped that mutton on the stairs!’
Theodore rang the bell.
‘Harriet, fetch Mrs Crozier’s toilet articles and clothes from the guest-room and put them in the ma
in bedroom.’
She had been eating, and wiped her mouth quickly on her sleeve.
‘Yes, sir. Anythink else, sir?’
‘Get that girl Annie to put more coals on the fire. I feel the cold!’
‘I do not think I can survive Annie’s attention with the coals,’ said Titus humorously.
‘Out!’ Theodore shouted, and Harriet ran. ‘I will not be plagued by your wit, sir,’ he cried to Titus. ‘It is ill enough that I must be plagued by my wife’s bad management and her undutiful attitude towards me.’
‘You must forgive me,’ said Titus, as pale as Laura, ‘but your own attitude leaves so much to be desired. I find it monstrous to witness you humiliating Laura in front of me. You have never been a warm man, brother, and you have often been a stern one, but never so discourteous.’
‘Do not quarrel, pray, upon my account!’ Her distress was evident. ‘If you should quarrel with Titus, where could I find a friend?’ she asked her husband. ‘He is the only friend you allow me. If anyone seems in my favour you find an excuse to dismiss them. It has always been so. I am surrounded by acquaintances whom I dare not know. What life is worth such a price?’
Relieved to be spared the necessity of annihilating Titus, Theodore turned upon the property he did not care for and could annihilate at leisure.
‘You are not fit to choose your own friends,’ he cried. ‘Your notions of propriety are hazardous in the extreme. Who knows what rag, tag and bobtail you would introduce into my house if I let you? I will not be flouted.’
‘I wish that I were dead,’ she wept. ‘I wish I could die.’
‘My heart is racing,’ he murmured to himself. ‘I must not let her distress me. Laura! I had better lie down. Go upstairs and see that those maids are out of our room. I coughed all morning, because of the fog. I may have bronchitis. I do not feel at all well. Perhaps Padgett is wrong and one can catch the influenza twice. Laura, control yourself, and attend to me if you please. In sickness and in health, you said, until death us do part …’
*
‘And what was all that about?’ Mrs Hill demanded, rather greasy with the mutton.
‘Ooh, such goings-on as you never did see,’ said Harriet, sitting down to her food which had been kept warm on the range. ‘They’ve had a row to end all rows, and the master’s in bed, with the mistress running up and down after him, and Mr Titus a-smoking his cigar and staring in the fire. I never heard the like, did you, Annie?’
All eyes and bones, the kitchenmaid nodded and then shook her head.
‘I’d best send some more coffee in, when they’ve settled down,’ said Mrs Hill comfortably. ‘How’s Kate, Harriet?’
‘She would get up, when she heard I was a-moving Mrs Crozier’s things. What between her fussing over every fold, and the master shouting, and the mistress crying, I didn’t know where to turn. Kate says as she’ll take the mistress’s tea tomorrow.’
‘They’ll be well away, then!’ observed Nanny Nagle, nodding in the direction of the drawing-room. ‘Left to theirselves.’
‘You wouldn’t say that, Miss Nagle, if you could see the upset. They don’t sit still above a quarter of an hour. Mr Titus has been up twice already, and the mistress goes every so often, a-soothing of the master down.’
‘I’ll send some more coffee in,’ said the cook. ‘Eat up, Harriet, and then you can take it. It’ll be a long time afore they let you wait on them again, my girl. I can prophesy that without a card on the table!’
8
What sort of doctor is he? Oh, well, I don’t know very much about his ability; but he’s got a very good bedside manner!
Punch, 1884
‘How does he seem after that outburst?’ Titus asked.
‘Fretful, but quieter,’ said Laura, very white. ‘I have promised him that I will attend him myself. Only the sight of my misery at such times really appeases him.’ She sauntered the length of the room and brooded at the window. ‘So I shall leave you every so often,’ she added drily, pacing the carpet again. ‘How often do you think he requires to feel his power over me? Every half-hour? Perhaps every twenty minutes, until he sleeps, since he has been so deeply disturbed. Yes, every twenty minutes should be sufficient reminder of my duty towards him. I must go upstairs every twenty minutes like a devoted wife.’
He was concerned with more than her wretchedness.
‘I had better not stay long, this evening, Laura. There is no point in making further trouble between the three of us.’
‘As you think best. Titus, I should like to thank you,’ and she laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘You spoke for me.’
He covered her hand with his, absently, but the frown still lay between his brows. She divined that he was regretting his chivalry, and her gratitude became irony.
‘I fear that even my championship is of small account in his eyes,’ said Titus, restless.
‘It was of no account at all – except to me. Perhaps you had better see him before you go, and make amends?’
His face cleared. Relaxed and gay, sure of his charm, he reached for the decanter of port.
‘This should ameliorate matters considerably! And it will help him to sleep.’ He turned at the door, and read the bleakness in her eyes. ‘I shall not take back what I said, Laura.’
She replied, ‘Of course not, Titus. I understand perfectly.’
He was back again in a few minutes: boyish, self-deprecating.
‘I forgot the glasses!’ he cried, and quoting Dickens’s Miss Mowcher added, ‘“Ain’t I volatile?”’ with a grin, seizing two of Theodore’s best Waterfords.
She neither looked at nor answered him, watching the clock.
‘Mrs Hill says, ma’am, excusing me coming in like this,’ said Harriet, who had hoped to find her mistress locked in a wild embrace, ‘that would you be wanting some more coffee?’
‘Yes if you please, Harriet. I shall be sitting here until Mr Crozier goes to sleep. And, should Miss Nagle offer to watch by him, you might tell her that he expressly asked me to do so. Oh, Harriet, that is Mr Titus coming down the stairs now. You might see him out.’
Hauling on his greatcoat, settling its handsome cape, back in favour at what cost of flattery and betrayal?
‘I have left the decanter by his bed. The port seems to have made him sleepy and that is all to the good. There is little the matter with him …’
‘You may go, Harriet!’ Laura ordered, seeing her evident interest.
‘I daresay he has another of those heavy colds coming on him, though he swears it is the influenza and the bronchitis and his heart and his liver, and the Lord Above knows what else. But there is little the matter in my opinion.’
‘I can tell you what is the matter with him,’ said Laura bitterly. ‘A cold heart and a black temper, and there is no curing either.’
Seeing that they were alone he bent to kiss her cheek, but she averted it.
‘We are not observed,’ he said softly, courting her with a smile.
‘A kiss can betray, nevertheless.’
He looked at her quickly, flushed up, and let himself out without a word. Alone with the coffee, Laura poured herself a cup until her self-appointed time for humiliation came about. Then she trailed up the stairs again.
‘The port has made me thirsty!’ Theodore complained.
But he seemed a little more subdued. It was a grumble not a tirade. She poured water and helped him to drink.
‘What time is it?’
‘Ten o’clock. Titus has gone home. How do you feel now?’ she asked, with the correct amount of deference due to his condition.
‘I feel as though I could sleep, but there is a heaviness about me, a langour. I fear I have a heavy cold coming on – unless it is something more serious.’
‘I daresay it is nothing at all but the weakness left over from the influenza, and the wine you have taken this evening, Theodore.’
‘Perhaps you are right. If I am no better tomorrow you must send for Padgett!’
‘No, no, no. I wish to be undisturbed. But you must come up as you promised. You must not go to sleep until I am settled.’
In relief, she said, ‘I shall come up to see how you are. You need not fear I shall fail in that respect.’
He mumbled something and turned on his side.
‘If you will mend the fire, Harriet,’ said Laura, as the housemaid appeared at the bend of the staircase, ‘you may go to bed. You may all go to bed. I shall require nothing more tonight. I shall not retire until Mr Crozier is comfortable.’
‘Very well, ma’am. How is the master, ma’am?’
‘He seems more easy now, Harriet.’
Her vigil ticked round the clock, and she observed it punctiliously, treasuring the hours on her own even when Theodore obviously slept. Shortly before midnight she turned down the lamps and mounted the stairs for the last time that evening. With some difficulty she undressed herself, but was baulked by the obstacle of her stays. After two or three ineffectual attempts to unlace them she slipped on her wrapper and sought the attic, knocking softly. Harriet’s voice answered her from the dark.
‘I am afraid I cannot manage to undress without some assistance,’ Laura whispered. ‘I forgot, with Mr Crozier being indisposed, that I should need help.’
Harriet crept out of a hard bed and shivered up to Laura, red hands more awkward than usual. But she longed to be a lady’s maid, and Kate was fortunately asleep.
‘Hold on to the post, ma’am,’ she whispered. ‘I should’ve thought, but I didn’t.’
Both women held their breath. Harriet pulled valiantly. The laces spread into freedom, and both women breathed out.
‘Thank you, Harriet. I am much obliged. I can manage now.’
The maid crawled into bed again, and dreamed of promotion. Laura finished undressing in the warmth of her room, one ear cocked for Theodore’s state of repose. He had been fairly restless, even in his first sleep, and though he seemed less so his breathing sounded noisy and distressed. Reluctantly, Laura trailed across the carpet and bent over him.
