Evie asked, ‘How far gone are you, pet?’ Her headache was pounding. She was tired and out of her depth and wanted Mrs Moore to handle everything. But then she sat up straight. No, she was this girl’s teacher, it was up to her.
‘Not quite three months. He won’t have anything to do with me, Evie. He just won’t.’ She was crying now as she had never cried before, and that was saying something.
‘What have you tried so far?’ Evie asked.
‘I said I’d do anything he wanted, anything, if he’d just marry me.’
Evie felt her irritation build. ‘No, what have you tried to sort out the problem? Have you been to your aunt, will she have you?’
‘She can’t. Mam sleeps on a chair in their kitchen because there’s no room. I can’t ask her.’
Well, at least she has some consideration for others, Evie thought, her opinion of the girl rising slightly.
Millie was wailing now. Evie soothed her. Millie’s cries grew less and Evie said, ‘You have a decision to make, do you want the child, or not? But first, do you understand what will happen to you if you have it?’
Millie pushed herself away. ‘You’ve got to help me. If I get rid of it, then he’ll marry me, I know he will.’
Dear God, what was the matter with the girl? ‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘Then at least I’ll be free of it and I’ll have a job, otherwise I’m going to be dismissed and I’ll be in the workhouse and the bairn will be taken away to live in hell with the other bairns. They die there, don’t they, Evie? I won’t have a character even if I can get out of the workhouse, so I won’t get back into work and I’ll be on the streets. I have to get rid of it or I might as well top myself.’
‘No, that’s not going to happen. You will never go to the workhouse. I’ll find you somewhere rather than that.’
Millie grabbed Evie’s arm and shook her. ‘Just help me get rid of it, please. I must. I simply must get rid of it.’
Evie had been waiting for her to say this but it still shocked her, and she realised she was gripping her hands together so hard that her fingers hurt. But she must help, of course she must. She stared up at the high window. It was dusk and there was no moon. She looked around the room. Millie’s outdoor clothes were draped across the back of the only chair, one from the storehouse. Wasn’t there something about jumping off chairs? She didn’t know. And she just wanted to shake the silly stupid girl, but how would that help? Though perhaps it might?
They heard footsteps now, in the passageway. Evie put her finger to her lips and both girls sat silent as ghosts waiting for them to pass, but they didn’t. The handle turned. Please don’t let it be Mrs Green. The door opened. It was Mrs Moore, her face creased from the effort of climbing the stairs. She was panting.
‘Annie and Sarah are boiling water. They are bringing it up in jugs to top up the bathwater. You will use the bathroom one floor down, you will not bring the tin bath up here. But that is assuming you want to try and solve this problem?’ She waited, shivering. Only now did Evie realise it was freezing in the bedroom. Millie nodded. Mrs Moore handed her some pills. ‘They’re pennyroyal, and Beecham’s Pills and quinine.’ Millie took the pills and sat with her hands on her lap. Mrs Moore handed Evie a bag of mustard powder and from her pocket came a bottle of gin.
‘It’s all I can do,’ she said. ‘Now hurry to the bath. I have had a word with Mrs Green and no one will interrupt you. I will continue with the upstairs dinner preparations and Annie will help until you are free, Evie. Remember that whatever the outcome, girls, you must never mention this again. If it works I will call in a friend to help at the end if necessary. We can’t have the doctor, or you will be instantly dismissed. Evie, if something happens tonight, come and get me. I’ll have to send you to my friend by bicycle.’
‘Yes, I’ll take a lamp and hang it on the handlebars. You know, none of this is fair,’ Evie said. ‘Roger gets away scot-free even if we tell on him, because it’s always the woman’s fault.’
Mrs Moore was leaving the room, but stopped to say, ‘Isn’t this what I’ve been telling this silly lass since you all came? Millie, it’s the way of the world. But you keep on fighting, Evie. You keep on fighting with your ladies and keep your legs together, and you too, from now on, Millie. Remember that you’re not without blame.’ Mrs Moore shook her head at Evie, her message clear. Say nothing about the decision to dismiss the girl. First things first.
The bathwater became bright yellow when the mustard was added. Sarah and Annie didn’t speak but their faces said it all. They were torn between pity, anger, and relief – relief because it wasn’t them, and after this, it wasn’t likely to be. As Evie helped her into the bath Millie clutched at her. ‘It’s so hot.’
‘It has to be.’
Millie eased herself in, the steam rising, her clasp on Evie’s apron lessening until she let go entirely and sat in the five inches of water. ‘Sweep it over your belly,’ Evie advised, though she didn’t know if this was the right thing to do. Millie did so, her skin reddening with the heat. ‘My pills,’ she gasped.
Evie handed them to her, and the gin, and while the girl took them she swept the hot water on to her belly again and again.
Once the water cooled Millie dried herself and dressed while Evie cleaned the bath with salt. ‘There.’ It was spick and span. They returned to the bedroom and Millie jumped from the only chair. Again and again, then Evie shook her until her teeth rattled.
They returned to the kitchen in time to dish up the soles à la crème, the suckling pig, and pheasant which Evie had plucked in the game room, the maggots falling to the floor, the smell obnoxious. It should have been Millie’s job, but she had felt sick the moment they had entered. ‘I should have known then,’ Evie whispered. Mrs Moore shook her head. ‘If anyone should, it was me. It’s not as though it’s for the first time. It’s getting to be a habit with that creepy-crawly.’
They dished up the vol-au-vents and compote.
Evie and Millie barely slept that night, but nothing happened. Or the next day. Finally Christmas was with them, and on Christmas morning Evie opened the present from her family, a bracelet which she tucked into her drawer, together with a photograph frame from Si. Later the servants lined up in the hall to receive their presents from the Bramptons. Their packets of uniform material were wrapped and presented as though they were the Crown jewels. They each curtsied or bowed as they took their gifts, and all wanted to throw them straight back at Lady Bountiful. Why couldn’t the woman find it in her heart, or from her pocket, to buy them something nice?
They trooped back down and their kitchen duties continued until two in the morning, and still nothing had happened with Millie.
On New Year’s Day 1913 Millie was given notice after lunch, because Lady Brampton had recognised her swelling belly for what it was as she collected her Christmas present. She required the return of the material. As Millie packed and the servants went about their tasks quietly, Roger was seen in the yard smoking. Evie could not bear it, any of it. She talked to Mrs Moore about Grace’s houses, and was given permission to take time off to accompany Millie. ‘I will mention this to Mrs Green. Return when you can,’ Mrs Moore told her.
Evie walked home with Millie pushing her bicycle, balancing Millie’s wicker box with her possessions on the saddle. They skirted the mud on the rutted tracks once they were off the Bramptons’ tarmac road. Leaving Millie ensconced in her mam’s kitchen, Evie called on Grace in the parsonage. Time was short so they spoke on the doorstep, their breath cloudy in the chill air. ‘I’m so sorry, Evie, but it isn’t suitable to have a pregnant girl in with the rehabilitating miners in the second house, or the retirement house, really. I will try and find something, somewhere, if you can wait. I myself have a full house of ailing parishioners.’ Grace clutched her shawl up to her chin.
Evie knew they couldn’t wait, or could they, if her mam let Millie stay for a while? ‘Thank you, Grace, I’ll see what else I can sort out.’
>
On her return, she found Da sitting in his chair, smoking his pipe and scanning his pigeon magazine. Timmie was at the kitchen table, his sleeves rolled up and his blue scars visible, painting a lead soldier that Evie had given him for Christmas. They were his passion, and when finished, this one would take its place with the others on the shelf in his bedroom. Jack was sitting opposite Timmie reading The Times.
‘Not sure about these suffragettes of yours, Evie,’ he said, looking up. ‘Doing a lot of damage with this arson and losing a bit of support, I reckon.’ He rattled the paper and returned to it, then said, ‘It’s New Year and we’ve been given a day off, but can you find out exactly when the cavil returns?’ Evie shook her head in warning, nodding towards Millie. Jack understood immediately. They didn’t want anyone to know that Evie reported back from the Hall.
Millie sat on the sofa with Mam, who was knitting a scarf for Timmie’s walk to the pithead of a morning. Evie came to the range, warming her hands. She shook her head at her mam and Millie. Millie’s eyes filled again. The men continued with what they were doing.
‘She says it’s not appropriate and I can see what she means,’ Evie explained. Her mam nodded. ‘I thought that would be the case.’ Her needles were clicking, the scarf was growing, the range was crackling and spitting with the poor-grade coal. Nothing changed, everything changed. Millie looked terrified. Evie squeezed on to the sofa. No one spoke.
Evie said quietly, for the women’s ears only, ‘She’ll try but we’d have to wait, and where can she go until somewhere is found?’ The silence continued and Evie felt as though her breathing had stopped.
Her father looked up at the clock on the mantel. She followed his gaze. It was time she left. He cleared his throat, leaned forward and tapped out the ash from his pipe on to the fire. Millie was completely still, the tears sliding down on to her shawl. Her da said, ‘Well, the minute you lower your voice you know you’ve got us all listening, so is anyone going to say anything? What about you, Mam?’
Her mam chuckled. ‘You’re the man of the house.’
Jack laid down his newspaper and called across, ‘Grace would help if she could, so for heaven’s sake, the pair of you, Millie’s going to be staying here at least until the bairn is born and you knew that the moment you brought her here, Evie. Tell the girl to stop the waterworks and relax. Timmie and I will bunk together and he’d better not snore.’
‘It’s not me who snores, it’s me mam.’ They all laughed, her mother dropping a stitch, then wagging a finger at her youngest. ‘You’re not too old to have your backside walloped.’
Timmie pulled a face and grinned at Millie. ‘You can decide what’s to be done once the bairn is born.’ His hand was steady as he painted the dark green jacket of the fusilier.
‘Aye, that’ll be right, lad. Now, you get back, pet. We’ll take care of the lass.’ Her mother patted Millie’s leg. ‘Hush now, pet. It’s sorted.’
Millie was wiping her face with the edge of her shawl. She said, in a voice faint with relief, ‘I’ll do all I can to help, honestly I will. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.’
As Evie prepared to ride away she turned and waved to her mam and Millie standing in the doorway, and she blessed the family she had been born into, and then laughed aloud at the thought of wringing help from Millie. Perhaps though, pregnancy might bring about changes, and at least she and the baby would be safe, and cared for.
Just as she pushed away, Millie called. ‘Evie, Evie, I have to tell you something.’
Evie stopped and waited, the wind icy, cutting through her coat and two shawls. The smoke was being swept from the chimneys the moment it appeared. Millie ran to her, more tears streaming down her face. ‘I said something, I thought it would make him marry me.’
Evie held on to her handlebars, eager to be off. ‘Well, whatever you said you should have known he’d do a runner anyway. Think of the others he’s got into trouble, like Charlotte.’
She started to push down on the pedal, but Millie held her back, gripping her arm with surprising strength. ‘No, listen to me, Evie. I told Roger you were a Forbes and must have passed on the news of the houses. I told him before I left today. I’m sorry, really sorry.’
Evie stared at her. What? What? ‘You what?’
Millie was weeping and Evie was sick of the sound of it. ‘I told him. It was the one secret I had that might help me. I’m sorry. I’m right sorry. You’ll lose your jobs, you’ll need to find work, move. All of you. What about me?’
Evie wasn’t listening any more, she was powering away, head down, forcing the pedals faster and faster. She had to get back. She had to stop him telling Mr Auberon. They weren’t ready for the hotel yet. Damn Millie, damn her to hell, but even as she chanted this she wondered if in her position she might have done the same.
By the time she reached the bothy her legs were shaking with exhaustion and sweat was running down her back. She flung the bicycle in with the others and tore up the back paths. The sky was full of snow, she could smell it on the wind. She pounded past the vegetable store. Her mind had been working furiously: she must find Lady Veronica, she was her only hope. If she left it would be without a character or further training and alongside her would be Mrs Moore, who could no longer be protected. As for the menfolk in her family? Well, she knew the answer to that.
Sometimes Lady Veronica walked the dogs in the formal gardens, sometimes in the arboretum. Evie rushed through the yard, and then to the stables where she stopped, listening for the barks of the dachshunds – nothing, just the stamping of hoofs in the stalls, and the whistling of the stable lads who were stirring the bran. Her heart was pounding, her thoughts in chaos. Think, think. Calm down. She started back towards the rear stables, heading for the formal gardens, but then heard faint barks. They were in the arboretum. She ran back down the yew path alongside the front lawn and the cedar. Her hat slipped – fearing to lose it, she snatched it from her head. She had decided on her lever, and was ashamed but determined.
She ran along the haha, crossed the grid and hurtled between the acers, chasing the sound of the dogs. ‘Please let her be alone,’ she panted. ‘Please, please.’ There were the dogs, skittering around Lady Veronica’s feet, barking as she held out a biscuit. They were getting too fat. How trivial. Why did the mind come up with nonsense?
The breath was heaving in her chest and a stitch was slicing into her side. The dogs must have heard for they left Lady Veronica and tore towards her, then back to their mistress, then towards her again, nipping at her boots. Evie slowed to a walk and approached. Lady Veronica stood watching her, puzzled. ‘Evie,’ she said, ‘am I needed? Is there an emergency?’
Now she was here Evie couldn’t think how to start. She blurted out, ‘You owe me a hat. I don’t need it, I have another.’ She waved hers. ‘I was there, you see, at the meeting. It wasn’t just Grace who saved you, it was me, too.’
Lady Veronica held up her hand as though she was stopping a runaway horse. ‘I know, of course I know. I’m not stupid. Lady Margaret also recognised you when she heard you speak. I’ve often wanted to share my thoughts with you about the route the Pankhursts are taking, but it’s just so difficult, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to be there, and neither am I. Heaven knows what Captain Williams would think. Hush, Currant.’ Lady Veronica gave the dog another biscuit. Evie started to speak, but Lady Veronica sailed on. ‘I have your hat, it reminds me all the time of what’s important. We simply must have the vote, mustn’t we?’
Bugger the vote, Evie wanted to shout. Instead she said, ‘I simply must keep my job and you are the only one who can help me. I’m a Forbes, you see. My name isn’t Anston. Roger has discovered this and I know he will tell your brother, and I will be dismissed. I will tell your father of your suffragette activities if you don’t help me, and Lady Brampton, and Captain Williams.’ The shame of those words would remain with her wherever she went. The wind was bending the branches and the temperature had dropped further. She r
ealised she was shivering. She looked at the hat which hung limp in her hand.
The dogs were jumping at Lady Veronica, and then at Evie. Her nose was running; she found her handkerchief and blew. Still nothing was said. She forced herself to meet the eyes of her mistress at last. Lady Veronica had paled, her hands were clasped in front of her. She said, ‘I would have helped anyway, Evie. You didn’t have to blackmail me.’
For the first time for a long while, Evie cried. It was all just too much, and the tears wouldn’t stop coming and neither would the apology which she repeated and repeated, shame making her want to sink into the ground and never emerge. Lady Veronica reached forward and wiped Evie’s face with her gloved hand. ‘My dear, we all do what we have to do, and now I want to know what’s happened to bring this about.’
Evie knew she would never forget that this woman had reached out and touched her, comforted her, when normally they would only receive a letter if it was on a salver, not given by hand. She had to pull herself together, she had to, because time was running out. She told Lady Veronica then, about the attack by Roger, about Millie’s pregnancy and the revealing of Evie’s secret. ‘She kept it for so long. She could have told him before but she didn’t,’ Evie concluded.
Lady Veronica nodded. ‘Well, Evie Anston, because it’s best that we know you as that, I will be speaking to Roger the minute I return to the house. Do we have any ammunition, do you think? Does he take wine from the cellar, or steal in any other way? A pregnancy won’t be a threat, he knows that. It’s always the woman’s fault.’ The glance they shared was bitter.
Evie shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ It was hopeless.
Lady Veronica called the dogs to her. ‘Go back and help Mrs Moore. We can’t have you leaving because Mr Auberon and I know that she can’t manage without you, though it’s best that we keep this between us, don’t you think?’
Lady Veronica put on the dogs’ leads, and hurried away. ‘Thank you,’ Evie called.
Easterleigh Hall Page 24
