by Emma Hornby
‘Blast, there is the door,’ Mrs Kirkwood cut in as a knock sounded. Flashing an apologetic smile, she rose and disappeared from the room once more, unaware that Jewel was secretly thanking God for the diversion.
Now is your chance – think of an excuse, quickly! her mind yelled. She jumped a little too suddenly to her feet, as if she’d been bitten on the backside or some such; her embarrassment heightened yet further at Maxwell’s surprised frown. Damn it, I have to get out of here! ‘Mr Birch, I’m afraid I must go.’
‘Oh?’
She nodded. ‘Aye, I’ve just remembered there’s summat I need to … there’s somewhere I have to be, like, so I’ll take my leave of thee now and—’
‘Brother.’ Yet again, Mrs Kirkwood had re-entered to shatter Jewel’s train of thought.
She cursed under her breath, forgetting what it was she’d been saying; please, just let me leave …
‘There is another girl arrived interested in the servant’s job,’ continued the lady. ‘I’ve left her waiting in the hall.’
Maxwell nodded, though his stare was still on Jewel, who was now standing uncertainly in the centre of the room. He released a long, quiet breath. Then he turned his head towards his sister. ‘Please inform the newcomer that the position has been filled.’
‘Oh, you mean …?’ Mrs Kirkwood inclined her head to Jewel. At her brother’s nod, she smiled brightly. ‘Wonderful. Miss Nightingale appears a clean, tolerable, respectable young woman.’
Jewel almost baulked at the last description. Respectable. If they only knew … She dropped her gaze quickly lest her sin gave her away.
‘Indeed, a sound choice,’ added the lady, blind to Jewel’s shame. ‘I’ll tell the other girl right away.’
‘Thank you,’ Maxwell responded, his eyes now back on Jewel.
Before leaving, Mrs Kirkwood placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. ‘Welcome to the family, Miss Nightingale. You’re just what my brother has been searching for, I’m sure.’
The drawing-room door shut behind her and Jewel and Maxwell Birch were alone once more. She simply gazed at him, lost for words. What the hell had he gone and said that for? She didn’t want the wretched job any more, did she? She just wanted to leave this house and never have to see it or its master again. Well, she’d tell him so, she would—!
‘You’re angry?’
Queerly, him bringing light to the fact in that calming voice of his caused her temper to rapidly diminish. ‘What makes you think that?’ she asked quietly.
‘Your eyes, they give you away. Right now, they’re spitting steel. You don’t desire to work here? Is that it?’
Despite herself, she shook her head, found it impossible to lie. ‘Nay, that’s not it, sir. Toiling here would be gradely, I’m sure.’
‘Then …?’
‘Are you certain it’s me tha wants?’ He didn’t answer. Sighing, she continued. ‘I haven’t even fetched a character reference—’
‘Don’t worry about that. It shan’t be necessary, given that I know your uncle.’
‘That’s not all. I must be honest with thee, I bent the truth to Mrs Kirkwood. I’ve no experience of minding youngsters—’
‘But you can clean?’
‘Aye, but—’
‘And cook?’
She nodded. ‘Aye, I can, but Mr Birch, sir—’
‘Then that is all that matters. The rest will come naturally to you, I’m sure. Constance is a happy child; albeit a little mischievous, perhaps, as you saw some weeks ago at the park …’
At this, a smile lifted Jewel’s mouth. The lively toddler with the golden curls who had excitedly stormed the children’s games, wanting to play, flashed into her mind. Then a sudden thought struck her and she frowned. She glanced at the door. Why was Mrs Kirkwood presiding over this household and not the mistress? Where was the infant’s mother, Mrs Birch?
‘Mary, my wife, passed away last September,’ Maxwell murmured, as though seeing into her thoughts. ‘She was always one to flout convention, insisted upon us not having servants, was a very involved wife and mother.’ A wistful look, tinged with pain, appeared in his eyes. ‘She was certainly one of a kind. Alas, the cancer cares not about such things, nor who it strikes.’
‘Eeh, I’m sorry, sir.’
He nodded. ‘My sister has proven to me that guardian angels do exist. What Constance and I – Roland, too – would have done without her these past months, I shudder to imagine.’
‘Roland, sir?’
‘My son from my first marriage. I shall introduce you to him later.’
Then this was really happening. She was here to stay. The reality quickened Jewel’s heartbeat but, oddly, the feeling of trepidation had left her now and only a pleasing sense of readiness remained.
‘My sister and I have both agreed that the time for her to return to her own family permanently has come. It has taken some persuading, however; she has been loath to leave me—’ He broke off, then smiled. ‘Mary’s passing was very difficult for me to accept. But, by the grace of God, each day gets a little easier. And, of course, having a piece of her in Constance helps.’
Jewel didn’t know what to say. His plight had touched her deeply. His daughter’s, too; motherless at such a tender age. Life could be so cruel at times.
‘Yes, indeed, my brother-in-law will certainly be glad to have my sister home,’ Maxwell added. ‘Her dividing her time between him and me cannot have been easy for him; his patience throughout has been nothing short of remarkable. Now you’re here, she will return with an easy mind, I’m sure.’
Now you’re here … Jewel’s shoulders involuntarily straightened. She lifted her chin, the sense of responsibility leaving a warmness inside that both surprised her yet felt natural, almost comforting.
‘There is just one thing I feel I must ask.’
Dread trickled back, for she knew what he was about to say. He wanted to know her secret, what troubled her to the point she’d attempted self-murder. Dear Lord, he’d know soon enough once her belly expanded, but she couldn’t tell him here, not now. ‘Aye?’ she finally forced herself to respond.
‘Your uncle and aunt won’t miss you?’
Releasing her breath slowly, she swallowed her relief. ‘Nay, sir.’
‘You didn’t leave on bad terms, I trust?’
Only now did she remember that she was yet to inform them of her decision to terminate her employment. Esther would probably have a blue fit, rail at her for what she’d deem her ungratefulness, which would likely upset her mother into the bargain … She drew in a deep breath of determination. That, she would worry about later. Whatever resulted, she wouldn’t be swayed, couldn’t remain in that shop another day with that cousin of hers.
‘Nay, sir,’ she repeated. ‘I fancy a change of work is all.’
His face spread in a slow smile. ‘Well, I’m glad you happened upon here.’
‘As am I, sir. Ta ever so for taking me on.’
After a long moment, Maxwell shook his head. ‘No, Miss Nightingale. Thank you.’
*
The kitchen, which Mrs Kirkwood led Jewel to minutes later, was reached by a set of narrow stone steps that were in need of a scrubbing – Jewel discreetly pulled a face.
Maxwell’s sister might well have done a good job of looking after her brother and his children’s immediate needs over the months, but it was plain that she wasn’t used to the more menial aspects of running a home. Likely she had maids in her own residence so hadn’t the experience of keeping house. How nice it must be to not have the need to sully your own hands!
They emerged into a fair-sized room, though what a contrast to the scrumptious house proper above. The space was stark, serviceable, fit entirely for purpose. The design of homes such as this was no accident – the sole purpose was to keep ‘uppers’ and ‘lowers’ apart. Down here, in these lonely holes in the ground, the work was completed out of sight by unseen hands, thus not impinging in any way upon the lives of the genteel w
hom they served. Sights, sounds and smells were contained, as the families desired them to be. Their needs were pandered to without attention being drawn to this, such were the rules of this complex world.
Houses, particularly larger establishments, wouldn’t have been able to function without an army of staff to see to their smooth running. However, a vast number of the underclass would likewise be lost without the call for domestic positions. Masters and the staff they employed needed each other, perhaps equally. So long as respect was shown on both sides, thus avoiding the inevitable ripples of contention, relationships between the two glided without a hitch.
If lucky to find a decent household, domestics were happy to devote their whole lives to service. A true testimony to their loyalty. Many even grew to love the families they served, regarding them almost as their own kin. In turn, it wasn’t unknown for their rulers to grow fond of these people they paid to see to their every whim. Proof that, if done right, and with continued effort from each party, these agreements could and did work well.
Pay and treatment differed widely from residence to residence but, nonetheless, the career was a respectable one. That servants were fed, housed and in most cases provided with uniform, all without costing them a copper coin, was a desirable proposition and highly sought after.
Though the choice wasn’t hers to make – once the baby made an appearance, even before then, she’d be forced to leave here – Jewel couldn’t see this as her life for ever. She wanted to marry one day, aye. She didn’t want to be a spinster, toiling for someone else’s family for all her days – a family of her own was what she desired.
Huh! And what make of man will take you on, now? a small voice inside her head mocked.
The stinging truth crushed her heart. Blinking back tears, she forced her attention back to the kitchen.
A cooking range, shiny pots and pans hanging from long hooks either side, dominated the left-hand wall. A large cupboard stood beneath the high, thin strip of window facing her and in the centre of the room a scrubbed, light-wood table and one chair took up most of the floor. There was a scullery-like area to the opposite side of her for washing dishes and vegetables, and this concluded the furnishings. Or so she thought. Turning, she spied in a dim far corner behind her a small, iron-framed bed. Neatly made with thin pillow and plain sheet and counterpane, it looked neither warm nor comfortable. Well, hopefully, she wouldn’t be in need of that …
To think that most girls would barely leave their kitchens – day, week, month, year following year – was a depressing notion. They had no cause to, after all; everything they needed was right there in their one stuffy, solitary little room.
‘Mrs Kirkwood, I wanted to ask.’ Jewel pointed to the sleeping area. ‘Could I please be permitted to stop on at home rather than dwell here? Mine and Mam’s house is but a stone’s throw away in Back Cheapside—’
‘I’m afraid that would not be practical, Miss Nightingale,’ cut in the lady, though not unkindly. ‘Has it been just yourself and your mother?’ she asked when Jewel’s face fell.
‘Aye, Mrs Kirkwood.’
‘This will be your first time away from home?’
‘Aye,’ Jewel murmured again, with a terrible feeling of regret. She should never have come here, had naively assumed she’d be permitted to stay on at home. How could she leave her mam all on her own? How would she cope without Flora?
‘You would have to be here to light the fires and so forth for when my brother and his children awaken. It really wouldn’t do if you had to knock them up of a morning to admit you into the house, now would it?’
She shook her head; she hadn’t thought of that. ‘Nay. I suppose not.’
The lady stepped back and surveyed the space. ‘It isn’t awfully inviting in here,’ she admitted. ‘However, once you’ve made it your own, I’m sure it will feel more like home. Yes, yes,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘A few pictures, perhaps, to brighten the walls … Leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do,’ she finished with a nod.
‘Eeh, you don’t have to trouble yourself with that, Mrs Kirkwood.’ Though surprised and not a little grateful for the offer, Jewel didn’t want to appear to be taking liberties. However, the woman brushed her worries aside and Jewel thanked her warmly for her kindness.
‘Now. You will rise each morning at six o’clock. My brother breakfasts early, you see; this should give you ample time to complete your early duties before seeing to his meal.’
Jewel nodded then listened intently as the lady proceeded to rhyme off the complete list of chores that would be required of her, not wanting to miss anything, for she was eager to make a good job of this. Maxwell Birch had been generous enough to take her on, despite everything; the least she could do in return was serve his household with the respect and efficiency it deserved. Its smooth running was vital.
‘The doors are locked and bolted at ten o’clock each night – a duty my brother undertakes himself – and you are then free to retire to your bed,’ the lady finished.
‘Aye, Mrs Kirkwood.’
‘Is there anything you would like me to go over with you again?’
‘Nay, I think I’ve got it all, ta.’
‘Sunday afternoons are yours to spend as you wish – resting in preparation for the week ahead would be wise.’
The lady had a point. Such multifarious occupations could easily become overwhelming. ‘I’m sure if I divide my time successfully, I’ll not wear myself thin and make myself ill, Mrs Kirkwood. I’m sure to be fatigued at the day’s end, aye, but not completely fagged, so long as I plan accordingly. A thorough clean of different rooms on different days, with regular duties in between, of course, would work well, I reckon.’
‘Oh?’
‘Like, say, I tackled the drawing room on a Monday, the dining room and hall on Tuesday, stairs and nursery on Wednesday, the master’s bedroom on Thursday and his son’s on Friday. Saves running myself ragged trying to see to it all in one day at the week’s end. This will leave me with Saturday to scour and scrub the kitchen and get everything in nice neat order.’
She appeared impressed with this, maybe even somewhat regretful that she hadn’t come up with the scheme during her stay here. ‘A sensible approach. You will receive twelve pounds per annum, although this may be increased later on, should you prove satisfactory. Which I’m sure you will,’ she added, smiling. ‘I can see you’re an industrious girl.’
‘Aye, Mrs Kirkwood. Hard and honest toil is in my blood,’ Jewel stated proudly.
‘Yes, I can see that. Well, I think that’s everything,’ she added, crossing to the stairs. Before ascending, she looked at Jewel over her shoulder. ‘Leaving this family in the morning shall be a wrench, indeed. However, I’m most reassured knowing they are in your capable hands.’
‘I’ll do my very best, Mrs Kirkwood.’ And she meant it.
Midway upstairs, the lady paused again. Her tone was thick as she murmured, ‘You will look after him, Miss Nightingale?’
Jewel’s response held just as much sincerity as before. ‘I will. You have my word.’
*
‘Leave the shop? Why?’
The hour was approaching nine. A curve of the frigid moon, visible through the ill-fitting curtains, lent its light to the small kitchen Jewel had called home for as long as she could remember. Her mother had slowly lowered her darning into her lap at her announcement and was gazing at her in shocked puzzlement.
Doing her best to appear nonchalant, she shrugged. ‘I fancy a change is all, Mam.’ The false explanation she’d given to Maxwell Birch tasted acrid on her tongue when she used it with her mother.
‘Nowt’s occurred? That Esther ain’t done you wrong, has she?’
‘Nay, nay.’ Jewel gave her an easy smile. ‘It ain’t so big a deal really, Mam. I’ll be no great distance away, eh? Besides, I’ll have Sunday afternoons off, which we can spend together. And the brass is better.’
‘But …’ Flora plucked at her lip. ‘I’ll
miss thee, lass.’
Christ, she was going to cry. Hell’s damnation to that swine Benji and all he’d helped create! She wished to God he’d never been born, wished they were not related so they never would have met. And all the while, he’d slithered his way out of blame completely, leaving her to deal with the muck storm alone.
‘We’ve not spent a single sun without each other since the day tha arrived to brighten my world. Norra one. But ay, I’m being selfish. You must do what you want to do, never mind my ramblings. You’re a sound worker, lass, and don’t often get what credit for it you deserve. Anyroad, I’ll have to let you go some day, won’t I, for you’ll soon have scores of lads queueing at yon door, vying to wed thee.’ She flashed a wobbly smile. ‘Aye. Now’s as good a time as any. You’ve my support and more. I only ever want thee to be happy.’
Jewel was speechless with emotion. Oh, Mam. My hand has been forced in this, and I ache to tell you why, tell you everything, but I can’t. As for getting wed … Never that. Not now.
‘Go on, lass,’ Flora added. ‘You take yourself up and get a healthy sleep for the morn. Start as you mean to go on, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I’ll follow shortly. ’Ere, and don’t go fretting over that wife of our Bernard’s, neither. I’ll inform her of you leaving when next I see her.’
‘Aye?’
Her mother nodded. ‘She’ll like it or lump it, an’ all, and I’ll tell her so.’
Again, Jewel was overcome with a host of painful emotions. ‘Ta, Mam,’ she managed to croak before quickly escaping upstairs.
Savouring the room, its feel, its smell, she was afforded some comfort, but still her breast throbbed with the devastation of it all. For the last time, she snuggled beneath the coverings. Sleep wouldn’t come, Jewel knew that, but simply being here, beside her mother shortly, was enough. She’d wait until Mam dropped off to sleep then hold her plump body so tightly, more than she ever had before, and she’d tell her in her mind how much she regretted that things had come to this and how sorry she was to have to leave her. She’d tell her how much she loved her, more than any other single being on this earth. And she’d vow to her that she’d never forgive herself for it all.
