A Mother's Dilemma

by Emma Hornby

  When muffled weeping seeped through to her from downstairs, Jewel’s heart finally broke. That she’d brought about such suffering to the selfless woman undoubtedly now feeling adrift, dreading the loss of her and fearful of being alone, was simply too much to bear; she curled in on herself like pummelled wax.

  An image of her mother huddled in her fireside chair, face wreathed in sorrow, burned itself in her mind. Jewel just knew she’d be holding to her breast the glass candlestick, as she was wont to in times of woe. It had been a last token of love from her father – all, besides her memories, that she had of him now. But Jewel couldn’t trust herself to go to her. She’d end up blurting the truth, she would, then all would be completely lost.

  This night, another plane of hatred was born.

  Foul and black towards Benjamin Powell.

  More so for herself.

  Chapter 8

  ‘HM. IT’S RATHER a large fit.’

  Stretching out the full, ankle-length apron then letting the voluptuous material fall back to her sides, Jewel chuckled. ‘Mrs Kirkwood did her best at such short notice, sir, I’m sure.’ She gave the matching white cap, which had slipped over one eye, a shove to the back of her head. ‘This, too, shall be right as rain once I’ve secured it well with some pins,’ she assured him.

  Maxwell covered his twitching lips with his fingers. ‘You’re certain?’

  ‘I am. Now, sir, you pass the little lady to me and take yourself off to the bank afore you’re late. She’ll be just fine. Won’t you, Miss Constance?’ she added smilingly to the flaxen-haired beauty, holding out her arms.

  ‘Lizzie will be here at eleven,’ he told Jewel yet again, almost apologetically – though she couldn’t think why. Hadn’t the position advertised in the newspaper stated clearly that part of her work would include tending to his daughter?

  The lass Lizzie he referred to was Constance’s nursemaid but, with an ailing mother, she’d had to cut her starting hour to when her married sister was free to call to share the daughterly duty of care. Jewel was certain she’d manage the child well enough until Lizzie arrived. So long as she kept her occupied she should be free to get most of her chores done as planned.

  The morning had been an emotional one – and, she suspected, not just for herself. Despite her best efforts, her mother had been unable to hold back her tears when kissing her goodbye. And afterwards, clutching her small bundle of possessions, Jewel had stood for an age outside her house, desperately wishing she didn’t have to leave it or the woman within. Finally, biting back heartache of her own, she’d turned her clogged feet in the direction of the new place she would from now on call her home.

  What would Esther say later – Benji, too – when Mam revealed this new development? she’d asked herself repeatedly. Flora had assured her she’d give it to them straight and they could deal with it, and not to fret, but Jewel couldn’t help it. What if her aunt grew suspicious of her motives? Yet how could she? she would remind herself. She was being paranoid, that’s all. There wasn’t a chance in a hundred lifetimes that Esther could ever guess the real reason behind her sudden move. As for her cousin, well, he wasn’t about to reveal anything, was he? He’d likely be glad to have her out of the way now, given what he knew. Rotten young swine that he was …

  When she’d arrived at Mawdsley Street, Maxwell had answered her knock with a definite look of strain on his face. His sister had left shortly before, he’d informed her quietly; that the parting had been a wrench, for all involved, had been clear to see. Jewel had felt the urge to offer him comfort but couldn’t think of anything to say or do that wouldn’t seem like she was overstepping her station.

  Instead, she’d followed him down to the kitchen in silence, where he’d shown her where to put her things and pointed out the neatly folded pile of material on her bed – her uniform, which Mrs Kirkwood had procured for her before her departure. That wasn’t all. True to her word, she had indeed found her several cheap pictures, and the calming woodland scenes broke up the blank expanse of wall beautifully. That lady was a kind and thoughtful soul, and no mistake.

  Now, as Maxwell headed off for work and when his footsteps had died away on the stairs, Jewel glanced down again at the apron and allowed herself a relieved smile. Thank the Lord he hadn’t insisted she had the thing altered. With any luck, it would conceal her sin once her belly began to swell for a little longer than she’d anticipated. God, but she hated all this deception. He, not to mention Mam, didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve their trust and kindness.

  ‘Down! Down!’

  Bringing her mind back to the kitchen and the child now doing her utmost to wriggle from her hold, Jewel nodded with quiet resolution. Time to stop these destructive thoughts. She must simply make the best of a bad situation – it was all she could do for now – and suffer the consequences of her wickedness later.

  ‘Down!’ the youngster demanded again; chuckling, Jewel lowered her to the flagged floor.

  ‘You’re not one for doing nowt, are thee, lass? Like a cat on hot bricks, you are. Oh, ’ere, missy, don’t do that!’ she added on a gasp as, lightning fast, Constance, having dragged up the rag rug from in front of the fire, made to toss it on to the leaping flames. ‘Eeh, young imp!’ Jewel gathered her back up into her arms, much to the toddler’s disgust. ‘I can see I’m to have my hands full with thee.’

  ‘No! Down!’

  ‘Now then, less of that. Come on, let’s find you summat to do. I’ve my chores to see to.’ Had she bitten off more than she could chew here? Jewel was beginning to think so. She’d no experience with children, had she, and it was starting to show. Would she be able to manage? Time would soon tell. She’d give it her best, in any case.

  She stuffed a few rags and a tin of polish from the shelf by the fire into her apron pocket. Then, collecting her brushes box from the large cupboard and the broom propped in the corner on the way, she took the child upstairs to the main part of the house.

  Upon reaching the hall, she sat her on the black-and-white, diamond-shaped tiles and opened out the box. Constance’s eyes lit up at the array of items she’d never seen before, and Jewel smiled. That should keep her busy for a few minutes whilst she swept the floor.

  Working deftly, figuring it was worth leaving the patch that the child occupied so as to get the rest cleaned, she had the space done in no time. Nodding in satisfaction, she now turned her attention to the mats and gave them a vigorous shake outside.

  She glanced to the child, still happily playing with the brushes, and smiled. Maybe she wasn’t all that bad with children as she’d feared. Now, if she could just get through the next few hours until Lizzie arrived …

  Minutes later, Jewel’s arms ached terribly, but the results of her efforts had been worth it – she’d polished the brass knocker and door handle to within an inch of their lives and they dazzled like stars in a midnight sky.

  By this time, Constance had grown bored of the playthings; not trusting her to be left alone, Jewel lifted her up and carried her down to the kitchen. The large pan of water she’d left heating on the fire was bubbling nicely – after filling a pail, she lugged it and the girl back to the hall. Now, already, her back hurt as well as her arms. Lucky for her she was no stranger to hard toil and had grown accustomed over the years to pushing through the fatigue. No wonder the house had slowly fallen into disarray under kind but privileged Mrs Kirkwood’s watch. It required a dogged worker unafraid to get their hands dirty to keep a place ship-shape.

  After carrying the pail outside, Jewel took Constance’s small podgy hand and helped her into the street. She handed her the smallest brush from her box. ‘Watch me, lass. Like this.’ She dipped her own brush into the water and nodded when the child copied her. ‘That’s it. Eeh, you are clever.’

  ‘Clever?’ Constance beamed.

  ‘Oh aye. Now, give the stone here a good scrub. Look, I’ll show thee.’ Kneeling on the flagstones, Jewel moved her brush in circular motions across the
surface of the doorstep. ‘That’s it,’ she encouraged at the child’s attempt to imitate her. ‘Good girl.’

  ‘By gum, did you ever see the like!’ The statement rang out across the street and was followed by a hearty guffaw. ‘You’re a bolder one than me, lass. That you are!’

  Jewel looked over her shoulder towards the source of the voice and was surprised to see that the young woman who had spoken was addressing her. ‘Sorry, what?’

  Similarly dressed in apron and white cap, knelt with pail and brush outside her own door, the woman bobbed her dark head towards Constance. ‘I were saying, you’ve got pluck, setting the young miss to such a task – in full public view, an’ all, by all accounts. Who ever heard of a servant turning their master’s daughter into a skivvy? Not I, nay.’

  Jewel glanced down at Constance. As the woman’s words sank in, her cheeks reddened in horror. She hadn’t thought about her actions at all, had merely been trying to keep the toddler occupied. Lord, but the servant was right. What on earth would Maxwell say to see such a thing? He’d likely be furious, maybe even throw her out on her ear, and who could blame him? This would be seen not so much as overstepping her station but leaping over it headlong.

  Quickly, she took the brush from the child and shot the woman across the road a grateful look. ‘Ta ever so. I don’t know what I were thinking.’

  ‘Ay, don’t fret on it, lass. This your first day?’ At Jewel’s nod, she tossed her own scrubbing brush into her pail and sauntered across the street. She had a pleasing face with what Mam would describe as ‘eyes in love with each other’ – a heavy squint that gave the impression she was staring at the tip of her nose. Smiling down, she held out a hand. ‘Maria. Pleased to meet thee, I’m sure.’

  Jewel shook it warmly. ‘Aye, you too. I’m Jewel.’

  ‘Bonny name.’

  ‘Ta, thanks. Yours, too. So, you’re employed at that residence there?’ she asked, motioning to the attractive house opposite.

  Maria snorted. ‘Oh no, I were just passing and spotted their step were a bit on t’ grubby side, thought I’d do them a favour … Course I’m bloomin’ employed there!’ she burst out good-naturedly. ‘By, you’re a bit daft, ain’t yer?’

  Jewel couldn’t help grinning. ‘Suppose it were a silly question. Well, I’d best get on. Nice talking to thee, Maria.’

  But the woman had stopped listening, was peering past Jewel along the street. ‘Eeh, you are a lucky divil to have the excuse of being under the same roof as him, lass,’ she whispered out of the side of her mouth. ‘Tending to his wants … well, that’s summat I would willingly do for nowt, aye.’

  Frowning, Jewel followed Maria’s gaze. Thirty-something, tall and broad-shouldered with wavy brown hair and smoke-grey eyes, she could see why the gentleman approaching them had Maria in such a tizzy. But what had she meant about her being lucky to be under the same roof …?

  Roland. It had to be. Maxwell had said the previous evening that he’d introduce her to his son, but he hadn’t returned home in time. Neither had she caught sight of him this morning. Mind you, judging by his rather crumpled clothing and fresh stubble, it was little wonder – he’d clearly spent the night elsewhere. What were his father’s feelings on such behaviour? Didn’t Roland have a job to go to?

  ‘And how are you on this fine morning, Maria?’

  The young woman blushed to the roots of her hair. She smothered a giggle with her hand. ‘Gradely, sir, ta for asking. And yourself?’

  ‘Oh, all the better for seeing you.’ He flashed a dazzling smile then turned to enter his house – and almost toppled on to Jewel, still knelt by the step. ‘God alive! I didn’t see you there!’

  She scrambled to her feet and attempted a clumsy curtsey. ‘I’m Jewel Nightingale, sir, Mr Birch’s new maid.’

  Roland lifted his eyebrows. ‘Ah, I see. Yes, I recall my aunt mentioning she was to put an advertisement in the Bolton Evening News. Well, welcome to our abode, little nightingale. Seems my father has been most astute in his selection.’ His let his stare linger over her for a moment before touching his hat and brushing past her into the house.

  ‘You’ve snared his eye all right,’ Maria announced with not a little envy. ‘Eeh, you are lucky.’

  Jewel pulled a face. She had to admit, he’d seemed pleasant enough and she’d take that any day over the poor treatment some domestics faced. Nevertheless, just let him try anything with her and he’d know about it. It was common knowledge that many young men of privileged households saw their female staff as fair game – it was almost like a rite of passage to bed the family’s maids. God help him if he was of the same mind. She’d had a bellyful – literally – of the male species, enough to last her a lifetime already.

  There was no denying Roland Birch was devilishly handsome, but boy did he know it. His easy-charm talk with Maria was proof he enjoyed flirting with anything in skirts. Though, unlike the swooning maid, such an attitude did nothing for her. She much preferred his father’s subtle confidence and maturity.

  The observation halted in its tracks, stopping further musing. Why on earth had that entered her mind? What a thing to be thinking – about her master, to boot. She just hoped her blush didn’t show.

  ‘I’d best get back to that ruddy step. My mistress would have a blue fit were she to spot me gossiping here with thee. Not that she’s likely to, mind, what with her hard at work whiling her day away on the pianoforte, eating cakes and drinking tea …’ Maria gave Jewel a wry grin. ‘I’ll be seeing thee, lass. Bye for now.’

  She watched her go with a smile. Maria was a rum ’un all right. Hopefully, they would become friends. The woman was nice in a mildly brash sort of way. Besides, right now, Jewel needed every ally she could find.

  *

  By the time Lizzie arrived to take over Constance’s care Jewel was mentally exhausted. Who knew caring for a child could be so fatiguing? Keeping the boisterous girl from becoming bored, and therefore wreaking havoc in the kitchen, had taken every ounce of energy her brain possessed. No sooner had she invented some game or other to occupy her than Constance was up and toddling off in search of mischief again.

  No wonder Maxwell had appeared apologetic earlier over Lizzie’s changed hours. Could she really cope with this particular duty? Jewel asked herself as she lay, spreadeagled on the bed, eyes closed, savouring a few precious minutes of peace. More to the point, how would she manage her own child when it arrived – not only full time but alone?

  The prospect made her feel ill. There would be no palming the life growing inside her on to a nursemaid when she needed a break, would there? No time to spare lounging on the bed with a child to care for as well as money to earn to support them both. Christ, how would she manage? Just what the hell was she going to do?

  ‘Nay,’ she whispered to herself fiercely, swinging her legs off the bed and dragging herself up as panic threatened to swamp her. ‘Don’t dwell on it, any of it. It’ll do thee no good.’

  Expelling her worries temporarily on a deep sigh – aye, for she knew they’d be back soon enough, were always lurking close by – Jewel crossed to the fire to heat some water, tackling the mucky upstairs windows she’d spied yesterday, now at the forefront of her mind. Anything so long as it offered a much-needed distraction.

  *

  ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  Placing his newspaper on the table, Maxwell nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Before leaving him to his meal, Jewel watched him lift the serviette she’d spent ages shaping into a fan and shake it out without seeming to notice.

  In fact, she pondered upon reaching the kitchen, he’d seemed somewhat distracted since this morning. Clearly, his sister returning home had affected him more deeply than she’d realised. Her heart contracted a little for him and she vowed to do her utmost to see he overcame the loss in whatever way she could. After all, hadn’t she given Mrs Kirkwood her word that she’d look after him?

  As she washed up the dirty pots and pans, sh
e smiled, pleased with herself that she’d chosen lamb stew as her first meal to cook for him. It was one of her specialities and her mam’s favourite. She hoped Maxwell liked it as much. It was important to her that she made a good impression. Though whether his son would enjoy it, dried up as it would be by the time he got to it, remained to be seen.

  She hadn’t seen Roland again following their meeting with Maria outside. He must have taken himself up to his room, though she hadn’t heard a thing from inside when crossing the landing on occasion. Likely he’d gone to bed to catch up on sleep he’d missed last night elsewhere. Neither was he present in the dining room just now. Maxwell hadn’t seemed too concerned at this, had asked her to leave his son’s meal to warm by the fire.

  Her thoughts switched to her mother, who, for the first time, would also be eating alone at this moment. Guilt pierced her and she closed her eyes. She was missing her terribly and she knew Flora would be feeling the same. Jewel just prayed her venomous aunt hadn’t kicked up much of a fuss about her leaving and taken it out on Mam. That poor woman would be suffering enough.

  Flora was still on Jewel’s mind later when she climbed the stairs to draw the curtains and extinguish the lights before retiring to bed. She’d been up earlier to clear the dining room – like his son, Maxwell was nowhere to be seen – and she’d finished up her chores with a heavy heart. Already she had begun to see that life as a general servant was indeed a lonely one.

  Reaching the drawing-room window, Jewel’s gaze immediately went left up the street. Again, she pictured her mother at Back Cheapside, this time alone in their bed, the pillow soaked with her tears … As she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, a movement across the street caught her eye. There, looking back at her from her own residence as she carried out the same late-night task as herself, stood Maria, flapping her hand wildly. The friendly sight was like a balm.