The Quarantine Station

by Michelle Montebello

  Mrs March was waiting for her with her hands on her hips. ‘Where did you scamper off to? The other parlourmaids are already serving breakfast.’

  ‘Ladies’ business,’ Rose mumbled under her breath.

  Mrs March gave her a dubious look. ‘The duke’s tray is ready. Off you go.’

  Rose collected the tray and loaded it onto the serving trolley along with the morning paper. Bessie was elbow deep in greasy water, scrubbing a cast iron pot. She managed a quick smile before Mrs March ordered her to scrub faster.

  Rose pushed the trolley along Main Axial Road, stopping by the laundry to collect clean linen before starting up the hill towards the duke’s cottage.

  The door was ajar when she reached it and she gave it a knock.

  ‘Is that you, Miss Dalton?’ came the duke’s voice from inside.

  ‘It’s Rose, Your Grace.’

  ‘Rose?’ There was a pause then he was at the door, thrusting it open with a smile. ‘Rose! How marvellous to see you! Do come in.’

  Rose carried in the breakfast tray, setting it down on the table.

  ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’ The duke stood beside her, inspecting the plates as she lifted the cloches. ‘I thought Miss Dalton was back today.’

  ‘She sends her apologies. She has some urgent business to attend to for the rest of the week. I’ll be serving you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He looked chipper at the thought. ‘Wonderful! Well, I’m quite famished this morning. Everything looks delicious.’

  Rose pulled the chair out for him and he sat. She laid the napkin across his lap and set the table. He watched her with an almost curious avidity as she laid out the cutlery and condiments. When she poured his tea and he took a sip, he made an exaggerated ‘ah’ sound again, as though it were the best tea he had ever tasted.

  She sat the paper by his elbow and curtseyed. ‘Enjoy your breakfast, Your Grace. I will see to your room now.’

  ‘Do you miss home, Rose?’ he asked.

  She turned back to him. ‘Excuse me, Your Grace?’

  ‘Do you miss home?’

  ‘Sometimes I do.’

  ‘I do too. All the time. This place feels foreign to me. It’s so different from everything I know.’ He gave her a sorrowful look.

  She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘I felt a bit like that when I first got here.’

  ‘Did you now?’ he said, leaning forward.

  ‘Yes. The trees and the smells and the weather, it was all different, but you get used to it.’

  ‘I’m not sure I ever will.’

  ‘Once the duchess recovers and she is back with you, you will feel less homesick.’

  He ignored the comment and pushed out the chair next to him, motioning for her to take it. ‘Sit with me, Rose.’

  ‘Oh… I shouldn’t.’

  ‘I just want to speak to you for a minute.’

  ‘I’m really not allowed.’

  ‘Just for a minute.’

  ‘Miss Dalton would be—’

  ‘Miss Dalton will never know.’ He gave her a wink. ‘It will be our little secret.’

  Rose opened her mouth to protest, but the duke gestured at the chair again. She sank slowly into it and folded her hands in her lap, her spine rigid as a rod.

  ‘There we go. Now, would you like some tea?’ he asked.

  Rose shook her head firmly.

  ‘Toast? Bacon?’

  ‘Please, Your Grace. I can’t…’

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I only want to enjoy your company.’

  Rose avoided his eyes and stared down at her hands.

  He cleared his throat. ‘What brought you all the way out here? Are you married? Did you come with your husband?’

  ‘No, Your Grace. I sailed alone.’

  ‘Alone?’ He sat back and crossed his legs.

  ‘Yes, on a troopship. I earned passage making and mending sailor’s clothes. I’m a decent seamstress.’

  ‘But why would a young girl like you make a journey out here alone?’

  ‘My father was going to marry me off to the butcher’s son in the country town we were moving to, so I ran away.’

  The duke fell silent for a moment then he slapped his knee and roared with laughter. It was a full minute before he stopped. ‘Oh, Rose! I can see you doing that too, putting your foot down in defiance.’ He laughed again. ‘What a marvellous story.’

  Rose, in spite of herself, laughed too. ‘My father wasn’t happy.’

  ‘I imagine not. Oh, but Rose, that is who you are. You’re not to be trapped like a caged bird. You’re a modern woman with modern thoughts. Why, I bet you believe in a woman’s right to vote, don’t you? I can see you out there, being a menace with all the other suffragettes.’ He roared again with laughter.

  ‘I wouldn’t partake in anything illegal, Your Grace, but yes, I do believe in a woman’s right to equality.’

  ‘Equality! Ha! Marvellous. Just marvellous! I’ve never met a woman like you. So proper on the outside and yet, on the inside, you’re wildly untamed.’

  Rose wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. ‘Will that be all, Your Grace?’

  The duke smiled. ‘That will be all for now. Thank you for sitting with me.’

  She climbed to her feet, curtseyed and left him at the table, still chuckling to himself.

  The next five days crawled by. Between caring for the duke and helping the parlourmaids in the dining room, it was a full week since Rose had seen Thomas. Their separation had left her feeling strangely disjointed, as though maybe, this whole time, he’d been a figment of her imagination.

  If she found a minute to spare, she strolled past his workshop in the hope of bringing him to life again, but disappointingly, he was never inside, his job taking him to other places on the station.

  The duke did not invite Rose to sit at the dining table again, much to her relief, though he still engaged her in conversation. They talked of everything from the war, to working at the station, to her life back home in London. He always seemed cheerful upon her arrival and announced his joy at everything she served him as though she had cooked it herself.

  The duchess remained in the hospital fighting a bronchial infection, though if the duke was worried for her, he never said so out loud. In fact, he never mentioned her at all.

  On the fifth day, Rose served a lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with iced tea and Victoria sponge for dessert. The duke was in a pleasant mood and so was Rose, the idea of being back in the dining room and back with Thomas making her hum all the way to the kitchen.

  She pushed the trolley up the ramp as the parlourmaids across the road began to clear the dining room after lunch. The day had been blessed with a beautiful winter sun. Passengers were strolling past with faces turned up to the sky and a cricket game had commenced on a grassy patch near second class.

  Bessie was by the sink, hands deep in scalding water, when Rose walked in.

  ‘What are you looking so perky about?’ Mrs March barked, pulling pots off the stove and dumping them near Bessie.

  ‘The duke enjoyed his lunch immensely, Mrs March.’

  Mrs March wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well so he should. Miss Dalton wants to see you in her office. Finish unloading the trolley and go.’

  Rose carried the plates, cutlery and cloches to Bessie, adding them to a pile that never seemed to shrink. When she left the kitchen, enthusiastic shouts from the cricket game followed her up Main Axial Road towards Miss Dalton’s office.

  When she reached the door, she gave it a knock.

  ‘Come in.’

  Rose turned the handle and let herself in.

  ‘Close the door behind you Rose and sit.’

  There was a tone to her voice that Rose couldn’t interpret but as she closed the door and took a seat at the oak desk, the expression on Miss Dalton’s face left little doubt. She was displeased.
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  She leant forward and rested her elbows on the desk. ‘The Duke of Northbury came to see me this morning.’

  ‘He did? What for?’

  ‘I think you already know the answer to that.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Did something happen this past week while you were serving him?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Did anything improper take place?’

  Rose thought of the morning she’d sat at the table with the duke. He’d offered her tea and breakfast and had wanted to talk. She’d resisted but he’d encouraged it. Had he informed Miss Dalton that Rose had accepted his invitation? That she, a parlourmaid, had been brazen enough to sit at the table with a member of the monarchy.

  Miss Dalton drummed her nails on the desktop. ‘Now is the time to tell me, Rose.’

  Rose squirmed. The carriage clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to explain then, why the duke came to request your service for the remainder of his stay. Why he has asked for you and you only.’

  The line of questioning was so unexpected that Rose was still trying to grasp what she was being accused of. ‘He asked for me only?’

  ‘Yes, so you must tell me, did you engage in inappropriate activities with him this past week? He has obviously become fond of you.’

  Rose shook her head firmly. ‘No, Miss Dalton. I mean, he likes to talk, but nothing untoward has occurred.’

  ‘He’s a lonely man, Rose. It would not surprise me if he desired a young, healthy maid like you. And maybe the thought of bedding a member of the royal family has made you forget your place as well.’

  ‘I promise, Miss Dalton. I have not been improper with him.’

  Miss Dalton studied her for a long time.

  ‘Are you going to fire me?’

  She sighed. ‘No, Rose. I’m not going to fire you.’

  Rose let out a trapped breath.

  ‘I admit I was surprised when he made his request. I wondered what you could have done to become so highly sought.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘I believe you.’ Miss Dalton looked at her in earnest. ‘I didn’t at first. In fact, I was highly sceptical. But you obviously have the patience for him, something I don’t have. And he seems to have noticed that.’

  Rose’s relief at not being fired was quickly negated by the realisation she was to remain in service to him. Time with Thomas was slipping through her fingers again. ‘Perhaps now we should ask him to visit the dining room for meals,’ she said. ‘I see no reason why he can’t socialise with the other passengers.’

  Miss Dalton held up her hand. ‘I did suggest it, but he would have none of it. He wants the current arrangement—you serving him in his quarters until he leaves. You can understand why this had me concerned.’

  Rose nodded dejectedly. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad we had this little talk. The duke will be most pleased when I inform him that you will continue in the role.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Dalton.’

  ‘Thank you, Rose. That will be all.’

  ‘Go on, you can tell me.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Rose said.

  ‘He must want you for a reason.’

  ‘I don’t know why. Nothing’s happened.’

  ‘Not even one little kiss?’

  Rose threw her pillow at Bessie, hitting her squarely in the face, causing her to fall back onto her bed with a squeal of laughter.

  ‘Not even one little kiss,’ Rose said. ‘The duke has been a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘I bet his thoughts are not gentlemanly.’

  ‘We’re fellow compatriots and he’s homesick. That’s all it is.’

  ‘I bet he wants to slide his hand right up your dress and have a feel.’

  ‘Bessie Briar, you are revolting.’

  Bessie collapsed into giggles again.

  ‘He doesn’t think like that,’ Rose said as she sat on her bed, her hair separated into three sections while she roped them into a plait. ‘He just likes to talk.’

  ‘Well if you ever get bored with him, I will happily swap with you. I will take the duke his meals and you can scrub the pots in the kitchen with Mrs March,’ Bessie said, scratching her hands.

  ‘Your skin needs ointment. Let me ask Miss Dalton in the morning.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘You scratch them until they bleed. That must bother you.’ Rose secured the end of her plait with a piece of ribbon.

  Bessie yawned and climbed under her covers, tossing Rose back her pillow. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m tough.’

  Rose caught the pillow, slid beneath her covers and turned the oil lamp down low.

  ‘Do you wish for marriage, Rose?’ Bessie’s sleepy voice spoke from the shadows.

  ‘I do, Bessie.’

  ‘With a husband who is rich and handsome?’

  ‘With a husband who is humble and kind.’

  ‘What about children?’

  ‘I would like them too, someday.’

  There was silence across the room. Then, ‘Do you think a man could ever love someone like me?’

  Rose climbed up on one elbow. ‘That’s a silly question. Of course I do. There are lots of good men out there who would fall over themselves to marry you.’

  ‘I’m just a lowly scullery maid.’

  ‘You’re not just a scullery maid.’

  ‘I’m not beautiful like you. My body is fat and my hands are hideous. I didn’t even finish school. I’m an uneducated lump.’

  ‘Bessie Briar.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘It’s not the truth.’

  ‘Those are the first things a man notices.’

  ‘They’re not and I truly believe there is someone for everyone.’

  Bessie sighed. ‘You really are the kindest person I know, Rose Porter. And my dearest friend.’

  ‘And you are mine.’

  A few minutes later, Rose heard the soft snores of her companion as she drifted to sleep.

  Rose lay back down and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Bessie’s words of self-loathing tumbled over in her brain and tugged at her heart. Unable to relax, she rolled onto her side and reached across to her bedside table, opening the drawer. Beneath the layers of undergarments and petticoats, her fingers closed around her diary but as she was about to retrieve it, she heard a soft clatter outside, like small pebbles being thrown against glass.

  She quickly closed the drawer and threw back the covers. The air was frosty as she moved to the window by Bessie’s bed to investigate. When she leant forward to peer out the glass, she saw Thomas outside, hand raised, about to throw another pebble.

  Rose smiled brightly. Thomas!

  She ran to the front door and, with a slight creak, opened it and stepped out onto the verandah. Thomas walked around the side of the cottage and met her at the stairs.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rose whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. The night was freezing. ‘It’s almost eleven o’clock.’

  ‘I wanted to see you.’

  She blushed, sure that he would notice in the darkness.

  ‘Would you like to walk with me, Rose? I want to show you something.’

  ‘Now? I’m in my nightgown.’

  ‘Put your coat and shoes on.’

  Rose considered the conversation she’d had back in Miss Dalton’s office only hours earlier, the fear of almost losing her job still fresh in her mind, but it took her less than a second to realise that she’d missed Thomas. That she couldn’t turn him away, even though her head was telling her she should. Already she could feel her hand in his, their bodies close, so close it made her heart quicken at the thought.

  She crept back inside, pulled her stockings, boots and coat on, sprayed herself with her peony perfume and stepped back out onto the verandah, closing the door softly behind her.

  Thomas reached for h
er hand and she took it as he led her out of the trees and onto Cottage Road.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, smiling down at her. His fingers tightened around her hand and she squeezed his back.

  ‘Did you get my message?’

  ‘Yes. Underneath my measuring tape.’

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you this week. Working with the duke has taken up all my time.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise. I understand. But I’m glad the week is over and Miss Dalton can look after him again.’

  They cut through third class and past Asiatics where the outdoor ovens were cooling and the Orientals had moved inside. One end of the dormitory still bore the scars of their indoor cooking attempt the week earlier.

  ‘About that, Thomas,’ she said. ‘I’ve been asked to tend to him indefinitely.’

  Thomas gave her a sideways glance. ‘Indefinitely?’

  ‘Yes. Until he leaves. Miss Dalton spoke to me about it today.’

  There was an uneasy pause. ‘Well, she must think highly of you to give you such an important role like that.’

  ‘It wasn’t her idea. The duke asked for me.’ She regretted the words as soon as they were out.

  Thomas lapsed into silence.

  ‘He’s homesick,’ she said, trying to brush it off. ‘And I’m English. We have that in common. That’s all it is.’

  He stared ahead, not meeting her eyes, the air heavy beneath the weight of all that was unsaid.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said after some time. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. You’re just doing your job.’

  ‘Yes, but you think poorly of me. Everyone assumes I’ve done something to encourage him.’

  Thomas’s face softened. ‘I don’t think that at all.’

  ‘He’s just lonely and likes to talk.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You’re not happy.’

  ‘I’m not happy because I was looking forward to spending time with you again. And I also suspect the duke likes you and that makes me uneasy. I don’t want anyone else to like you the way I do.’

  His words picked apart the awkwardness, sending Rose’s heart soaring. She was relieved at how he wore his emotions on his sleeve and how much she needed that after days spent apart from him.