Mary followed her into the room and glanced around. As Mrs Peart turned to leave, she said, ‘I know it feels strange, it always does at first, but you’ll soon settle in. Most girls get homesick the first time they’re away from home but you’re one of the lucky ones. You’ll get a full day off every month and you’re close enough to go home and visit your family.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Mary.
‘Get yourself freshened up, and then come down and have a bite to eat,’ said Mrs Peart, as she left. Once she had gone, Mary couldn’t stop a tear from falling. She knew Mrs Peart had meant the words kindly, but it was going to be so hard seeing so little of her family when she was used to being with them all the time. She was starting to realise how much she would miss them.
She placed her bundle on the bed, wiped her eyes and had a better look around her. The small room was at the back of the house and it had one window that looked out over the farmyard and up the steep hillside onto the fell. In the alcove between the door and fireplace was a single bed with a beautiful patchwork quilt in delicate shades of pink, blue and white. A chamber pot peeped out from under the bed. The small fire had been lit before her arrival; it wasn’t big enough to warm the room properly but it did take the chill out of the air. A bucket of coal stood by the hearth and she added a few pieces to the fire; the smell of the smoke was very different from the peat fire at Fell Top that she was used to. An oak dressing table and chair stood in the other alcove, between the fireplace and the window. The floorboards were polished oak and there were two clippy mats, one by the bed and the other by the hearth.
Mary thought the room was comfortable rather than cosy and, deciding that it might be nice to sit in front of the fire after work, she carried the chair across the room. There was a brass candlestick, half a candle and some matches on the mantelpiece and she made a mental note of where they were in case it was dark when she returned to her room.
Opposite the fireplace was a washstand with a jug and bowl on top and a small towel hanging on the side. The jug was filled with water. Mary dipped her finger in; the water was cold as she had expected. She poured a small amount into the bowl and quickly washed her face and hands.
As she tidied her hair, Mary thought she would like having a room to herself. At Fell Top, she had shared the upstairs room with Annie and William, and her parents had slept downstairs, in a pull-down bed. She could only guess how many rooms there were in this house, but she reckoned it must be ten or more. Working here would certainly keep her busy, she thought. She was looking forward to seeing the place properly and to meeting the family.
Mary went downstairs and entered the kitchen where Mrs Peart was waiting for her. ‘Sit down, lass. The others will be here soon. It’s mutton stew tonight, Mr Peart’s favourite.’ She noticed that the table was set with four places.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ asked Mary.
‘No, not tonight. You just sit down there. They shouldn’t be long now.’ Mary sat stiffly on the chair that Mrs Peart had indicated and watched the older woman as she flitted around the kitchen. She was small, almost petite, and she had a tiny waist for a woman of her age, which Mary guessed to be somewhere about fifty years old. Her grey hair was pulled up into a bun at the back of her head and was covered with dark blue netting. Mary thought she looked both elegant and delicate at the same time, if that was possible.
Mrs Peart chatted away as she worked, ‘Mr Peart’s family have owned Springbank Farm for as long as anyone can remember. Farming’s in his blood. He’s worked here from being a boy and took over the running of it when his father died. His brother’s a farmer as well. John’s farm is up at St John’s Chapel. I came here when we got married, almost thirty years ago. Good Lord! How times flies!’
‘You’ve lived here a long time then.’
‘Yes, I suppose I have. I knew when I came here as a bride that I’d be here for the rest of my days. Mr Peart wouldn’t live anywhere else.’
‘It’s a lovely house, and I’m looking forward to seeing outside as well.’
‘Mr Peart would be delighted to show you around the farm. It’s his pride and joy. Speak of the devil!’ she said to Mary with a smile.
Mr Peart entered the kitchen and sat down at the head of the table. He was a tall, lean man in his fifties. He had white hair and a white beard that was neatly trimmed. Mary noticed that he stood very upright, like an army officer, and took long strides as he walked. He looked strong and handsome for his age and she imagined that they must have been a beautiful couple in their youth.
He smiled at Mary and said, ‘Hello, Mary. Is this your first place?’
‘Yes, it’s the first time I’ve worked in service, but I’ve been helping out at home since I was ten. I can cook, clean, look after children and animals. I’ve milked goats and cows…’
Mr Peart laughed. ‘You’ll not be doing any milking here lass, there’s plenty of work in the house for you. Mrs Peart will keep you on your toes,’ he said, as he winked at Mary.
‘Now then, Mr Peart, don’t you tease the lass,’ Mrs Peart scolded.
Their friendly banter was interrupted by a young woman marching into the kitchen. ‘And who is this?’ she demanded, pointing at Mary.
Mrs Peart answered in a placating tone, ‘You know it’s our new girl, Mary Watson. We told you yesterday that she was coming. Mary, this is our daughter, Connie.’
Connie flounced into her chair, knocking the table hard enough for some water to spill from the jug. ‘Connie, settle yourself,’ her father warned.
A little dog had followed Connie into the room. ‘Come here, Charlie,’ Connie called, patting her knees. Charlie jumped up and curled up on her lap.
‘We will not have a dog at the table. What are you thinking, girl!’ Mr Peart exclaimed.
‘We have a servant at the table. I’d rather eat with Charlie than a servant.’
‘Get up to your room now, young lady, and take that animal with you. If you can’t be civil to our guest, you don’t deserve any tea!’ said her father. Connie glared at her father before storming out of the room.
‘I am so sorry, she shouldn’t have said that. Don’t let her upset you,’ said Mrs Peart.
After they had eaten the meal, Mary helped Mrs Peart to clear the table and wash the dishes. When they were finished, she went back to her room. She walked over to the window and looked out onto the dark hillside and thought about her father driving home at night. As she closed the curtains, she hoped that he’d got back safely.
Mary sat by the fire and contemplated everything that had happened that day. She thought about the new people she had met - the people she would be living with for the foreseeable future.
She had liked Mr and Mrs Peart straight away, they were a lovely couple, but she had never met anyone like Connie before. Connie was a pretty young woman. She was petite like her mother, her hair was blonde and her large eyes were a bright shade of blue. Mary had been shocked by her behaviour though, especially at how she had spoken to her parents. Nobody she knew would ever have spoken to their parents like that because, if they did, they would have got a clout around the lug for it. Mary’s instincts told her to be wary of the girl.
Mary changed into her nightdress, extinguished the candle and climbed into bed. As she lay there in the unfamiliar surroundings her thoughts returned to the handsome, dark-haired farmer she had met on the road to the farm. She imagined his arms around her and his lips kissing her. She closed her eyes and saw his smiling face and couldn’t help smiling back into the darkness.
***
In a room along the corridor, Connie sat on her bed and stewed. She wasn’t happy that her parents had hired another maid, especially after all the bother she’d had getting rid of the last one. She hated Mary already. She knew that it wouldn’t be long before her parents would like Mary better than her. It was always the same. They spent more time with their servants than they did with her - and they were nicer to them too.
Charlie was curl
ed up next to her and she stroked the little dog’s head. At least he liked being with her, she thought.
Sally, the last maid, had worked at Springbank Farm for so long that her parents had started to treat her like family. It just wasn’t right. She was their only child and she wanted them to talk to her and be nice to her for a change.
It had taken such a long time to get rid of Sally. Connie remembered the day that she finally packed her things and left. The final straw had been when Connie had put a dead newt in the teapot. When Sally had poured the tea, the amphibian landed in a teacup with a splash and Sally had screamed very loudly. She had been convinced that there were newts living in the water pipe between the spring and the house and she had said that she couldn’t stay there if the farm’s water supply was unsanitary.
Her mother had been upset to see Sally go and she’d actually cried as the maid walked down the track for the last time. Connie smiled to herself as she remembered that day. It had felt as though she had won.
And now there was another maid in the house who would no doubt wheedle her way into her parents’ affections.
Chapter 2
Springbank Farm, Westgate, Weardale
March 1872
The next morning Mary woke early and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. She was surprised to find that Mrs Peart was already in the kitchen and that the range had been lit. The older lady showed Mary where everything was kept, in both the kitchen and the pantry, and they made breakfast together.
Mr Peart and Connie appeared at the same time and sat at the table. Connie was quiet during the meal. Mary noticed that she didn’t have much appetite for someone who hadn’t eaten tea the night before and suspected that she had helped herself to food from the well-stocked pantry during the night.
‘Connie, what are you up to today?’ asked Mr Peart.
‘I’m taking Star out. Phyllis wants to race us with her new mare. We’ve arranged to meet on Cameron’s Flats this morning - it’s the best place for a good gallop around here.’
Tapping his fingers on the table, her father said, ‘So Sir Thomas has been buying a new horse, has he? He knows his horses, does Sir Thomas. Is it a hunter or a Thoroughbred ?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen her yet. Although if Phyllis thinks she stands a chance against Star, I expect she’ll be a Thoroughbred, or maybe an Arabian. I think Henry will come too because he wants to bet on the outcome! That man will bet on anything,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Anyway, I intend to win - and to take his money!’
‘Well, Star can certainly shift so I reckon you stand a good chance. Don’t forget to rub him down when you get back this time,’ said her father.
After breakfast, Mrs Peart showed Mary around the farmhouse and told her what she would be expected to do. Downstairs, there were five rooms: the drawing room, dining room, parlour, kitchen and pantry. Upstairs, there were six bedrooms. Mrs Peart had prepared a list of chores for her which they went through together:
Light the Kitchen Range
Make Breakfast, Dinner and Tea
Make Tea mid-morning and mid-afternoon
Clear the Tables and wash the Dishes
Clean and tidy the House
Make the Beds
Bake Bread, Pies, Scones, Cakes and Biscuits
Make Butter, Cheese, Jam and Chutney
Do the Laundry and Mending
Light and tend the Fires in the Winter Months
Collect the Eggs and take them to Mr Graham’s Shop
Collect the Groceries from the Shop
Mrs Peart explained that the list didn’t include tending the garden or emptying the ash closet because the men saw to all of the outside jobs, but she would need to empty the chamber pots when she made the beds every morning.
Even though her role didn’t include farm work, Mr Peart insisted on showing her the farm in the afternoon. As they wandered around with his collie, Tip, at their heels, he explained enthusiastically how the farm worked.
They walked up to the pasture where a herd of shorthorn cows were grazing. He said, ‘The cows spend most of the day up here but they come down to the byre twice a day for milking. Isaac and Jacob do most of that but I help out now and again.’
He pointed to the meadows down from the farm. ‘The grass in these fields will be left to grow for hay soon. We need a good crop to feed the animals in the winter when there’s no grass for them.’
Mr Peart was obviously very proud of the place and, although Mary knew quite a bit about hill farming already, she listened intently.
They came across two men repairing a drystone wall. Mary could see that they were twins. Mr Peart said, ‘Mary Watson, I’d like to introduce you to Isaac Rowell and Jacob Rowell. They’re identical twins, but we can tell them apart because Jacob has a little mole on his cheek - just here.’ He pointed at the left cheek of one of the men. ‘That’s the only difference between them.’
‘Welcome to Springbank,’ the twins said in unison and they all laughed. ‘Mr Peart,’ said Jacob, ‘there’s somethin’ I need to tell you. One of the ewes is missing from the front field. Her lambs have gone as well. I’ve checked all the way round and none of the dykes are down and all of the gates are shut. I can’t see how they’ve got out.’
‘The ewe might have jumped the wall to get back to the fell, but the lambs are too small. Have a look in the other fields, they can’t have gone far.’
‘You don’t think they could have been taken, do you?’
‘More likely the bairns from the village have been up again and left a gate open.’
‘Aye, you’re right. They’ll be around here somewhere,’ replied Jacob, ‘I’ll have another look.’
Mr Peart pointed towards the field in front of the farmhouse. ‘Those are our Scottish Blackface ewes. Quite a few of them had twins this year - that’s good for business when that happens. They’re hardy things, but they need to be to live up on these hills in winter.’ His gaze shifted to the high fell above them, the top of which was hidden by cloud, and said, ‘The sheep are usually up on the fell but we’ve brought them down nearer to the farm for lambing. When they’ve finished, they’ll go back up. We bring them down again for clipping in the summer and then the lambs are brought down for the autumn sales at St John’s Chapel.’
As they walked back towards the farm buildings, Mr Peart pointed out a massive bull grazing in the field beside the barn. ‘This here is our Billy. He’s a good ‘un,’ he said. ‘He’s won every show he’s been entered in and he’s thrown some really good calves.’
They stopped and looked over the wall into the pigsties where the sows were feeding their piglets. Mary smiled at the rows of wiggling tails.
In the farmyard, a dark-brown hen scratched the earth, showing her chicks how to forage for food. Mr Peart said, ‘Mr Graham buys most of our eggs from us to sell in his shop down in the village. There’s always a few hens that start clocking at this time of year though. We let them sit on a clutch of eggs and hatch them out because we need the chicks – the pullets are kept for layers and the cockerels for the table. See that cockerel over there - that’s Gladstone.’
‘Why do you call him Gladstone?’
‘He’s just like the prime minster - he likes to hear himself!’ Mr Peart chuckled and, right on cue, the cockerel stretched to his full height and crowed loudly. They both laughed. ‘See what I mean?’ said Mr Peart. ‘But nobody takes any notice of him.’ He showed Mary where the hen houses were so she would know where to collect the eggs from.
He guided her around the outbuildings. They looked in the dairy, the byres, the kennels, the hay barns and the stables. As they entered the stables, a large grey horse whinnied. ‘This is my hunter, Thunder,’ Mr Peart said, as he stopped to stroke the gelding’s neck. In the next stall, a pair of black Dales Ponies stood nibbling at their hay, and in the last stable stood a beautiful chestnut Thoroughbred with a white star on his forehead. He was still saddled. His body was covered in sweat and steam rose from hi
s back.
‘That bloody girl!’ shouted Mr Peart. ‘Excuse the language, Mary, but she makes me so angry. She has one of the best horses in the dale and she’s too lazy to look after him properly. She doesn’t deserve to have him!’
He loosened Star’s girth and led him over to the trough to drink. Once the horse had had his fill, Mr Peart began to walk him slowly around the yard. ‘Go and fetch Isaac, would you?’
Mary returned to where the brothers had been working. She said, ‘Isaac, Mr Peart would like you to come down to the yard.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Connie has left Star saddled in the stable. He’s covered in sweat.’
‘Not again!’ Isaac rushed back with her to the yard. ‘It’s dangerous for horses to overheat. They’ve got to be cooled off slowly after they’ve been ridden hard.’
When they reached the yard, Mr Peart asked Isaac to wipe Star down with a wet cloth and relinquished the horse into his care. Then he went in search of his daughter and a few minutes later Mary heard raised voices coming from inside the house.
Chapter 3
Springbank Farm, Westgate
April 1872
The next morning, Mrs Peart asked Mary to take the eggs down to Mr Graham’s shop and collect a few things for her. Mary took the basket of eggs and a shopping list and set off down the track to Westgate, treading carefully for fear of falling and breaking the eggs. The farm track was uneven, with deep ruts from cart wheels. As she passed the sheep’s field, she wondered if the one that was missing had been found yet.
The Lead Miner's Daughter Page 2
