by Emma Hornby
Smiling, Jewel waved back. And as she returned to the kitchen, she did so a little lighter of heart.
Chapter 9
TONGUE PEEKING OUT in concentration, Jewel raked out the dead ashes as quietly as she could manage. The early-dawn lighting of the bedroom fires without waking the family was a real skill that all maids had to master – thankfully, she seemed to have got the hang of it quickly, hadn’t disturbed any of the Birch members up to now.
In the four-poster bed behind her, Maxwell lay on his back, one arm resting above his head on the pillow. The new sun trickling through the gaps in the curtains, which lent Jewel the only light whilst she went about her task, fell in straight, silver rays along the bedclothes and up across his bare chest, picking out the thatch of dark curls there. But it was his face when she glanced over her shoulder to check his sleeping, worried she was creating too much noise, that caught her attention and kept it there.
Turning fully to face him, she sat back on her haunches. He wore a look deep in forlornness. His brows were together in a slight frown, the corners of his mouth down. He put her in mind of a youngster having a bad dream, and this she would have believed and given it no more thought had she not glimpsed now and then since arriving, when he let his gladsome mask slip, him wearing the same expression in his waking hours, too.
Did his sister’s absence trouble him still? After all, he hadn’t been his usual self since – Jewel had noticed his withdrawal. However, she sensed something more now, that he couldn’t conceal fully in this state of unconsciousness: raw grief. She recognised it unquestioningly; she’d seen her mam wear it often enough.
Lowering her gaze, guilty to be secretly intruding on his inner feelings, she returned her attention to her work. She’d just finished black-leading the fire and was wiping her soiled hands on a scrap of rag when, again, her attention was drawn to the man. She hesitated then crossed to the bedside. His frown was still in place and now his lips were moving – tilting her head, she listened but no words emerged. Only a moan, low with sorrow, escaped on his breath. His pain was tangible.
Jewel’s heart contracted for him. What made her do it, she couldn’t say – perhaps it was the promise she’d made to Mrs Kirkwood – as ever so gently, she laid her palm on his slick forehead. Instantly, the skin-on-skin contact seemed to comfort him; his brow smoothed out on a soft sigh.
She removed her hand but continued watching him for some seconds. Satisfied he was calmer, she gathered up her box of cleaning brushes and slipped from the room.
Later, Maxwell entered the dining room wearing the easy smile Jewel hadn’t seen since their earlier meetings. He seemed fresher, brighter somehow, and she was glad of it.
‘Good morning, Jewel.’
‘Morning, sir.’ She stole another look at him as he sat. ‘You’re … well today, Mr Birch?’
He appeared to consider his answer. His smile returned. He nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I think I am.’
With a happy smile of her own, she finished setting the table then left him reading his paper to collect breakfast from the kitchen.
Today was her first Sunday off. Thoughts of spending the whole afternoon with her mother brought excited flutters to her stomach and she quickened her pace. However, midway down the stairs, cooking smells reached her nostrils and a sudden bout of nausea whacked her full across the face. Her guts changed direction, somersaulting worryingly, and she bolted down the remaining steps. She reached the kitchen just in time to heave up what felt like her soul into the stone sink.
Sweating and shaking, she took some deep breaths – realising too late her error when the broiled mackerel gripped her insides again as though with invisible hands. She swallowed quickly, this time managing to stem the sickness, but was still forced to drop into a seat for a minute to regain her composure.
Slowly, clarity reached her – her eyes swivelled to her midriff. She could have cried, for this had made her terrible predicament all the more real. The seed inside her was growing by the minute into a real person; it was as if her body had realised and had decided to begin reminding her of the fact. As if she could forget. It was with her every waking moment. God, help me.
With great effort, she forced herself back to her duties. Holding her breath, she dished out the meal and hurried as fast as the tray would allow her back to the house. The sooner she had delivered this disgusting fare upstairs, the faster she could escape from here for a few hours.
When she re-entered the dining room, she saw that Roland had joined his father in her absence. Lounging in a chair at the table, he watched her approach with lazy interest. She placed his breakfast in front of him and he cocked his head for a better view of her face.
‘Are you feeling well, little nightingale?’
Embarrassment brought heat to her cheeks. Stemming her anxiety, she nodded. ‘Aye, Mr Roland.’
‘You’re rather pale. I hope my father isn’t working you too hard,’ he added with mock-sternness to the older man.
‘Nay, sir.’
Maxwell had lowered his paper, was regarding her with something akin to concern. Her face flushed a deeper red; cursing it, she averted her head, saying, ‘Will that be all, sir? Mr Roland? Only I planned to visit Mam …’
‘Of course.’ Maxwell looked as if he’d say more but, after glancing towards his son, changed his mind. ‘Off you go, enjoy your afternoon.’
‘Ta, thanks. I will, sir.’
In less than a minute, she’d donned her shawl and was stepping into the street with a thankful heart. High clouds framed a pleasant sky and a slight breeze took the edge off the humid air. Drawing in a long, slow breath, she turned her back on the house and set off for Back Cheapside.
‘Mam?’ Jewel burst through the door at a half-run, giddy with anticipation, but her happiness was soon dashed. She halted and took in the scene before her. Two figures were seated by the fire drinking tea and eating slices of bread and dripping. Her mother turned with a joyful cry at her entrance – the other simply stared and didn’t utter a word.
‘Eeh, lass. By, but it’s good to see thee.’ Flora fussed around her daughter, removing her shawl and stroking her hair, before pulling her close in a quick hug. ‘Sit yourself down, I’ll pour thee a sup,’ she told her, unable to keep the smile from her face as she crossed to the table.
All the while, Jewel’s gaze never strayed from her cousin’s. Just what the hell was he doing here? What she wouldn’t give to dash across and slap his face daft for him until the flagged floor ran red. Was there no escaping him at all? Hadn’t she a constant reminder burrowed in her womb without this? Today of all days – but, of course, he’d have known she had the afternoon off from work, must have planned this. All she’d wanted was to enjoy a few precious hours in her mam’s company, but he’d spoiled it, like he had everything else. Lord, how she loathed him.
‘Does tha want a refill, Benji, love?’ asked her mother, busy with the teapot, her back to them. ‘Ay, lass, he’s been an angel hisself this past week,’ she informed her daughter. ‘Reet looked after me, he has, running errands and the like. He’s just this minute finished fixing that sideboard door we’ve had trouble with for ages. Shuts perfect now, it does, thanks to him. Well, lad? Will tha stop for another sup?’ she asked him again.
He broke Jewel’s stare to glance inside his cup. When he brought his eyes back to hers, she sent him a look that held both pleading and warning. Don’t you bloody dare accept, just you get gone from here, she silently screamed at him.
Benji’s gaze swivelled to her breasts, much to Jewel’s disgust, then he trained it towards his aunt. ‘Ta. I will, aye. ’Ere and after, I’ll take a look at that shelf up there; seems a bit lopsided to me.’
Anger shook Jewel’s very bones. By God, he’d pay for this.
Groping behind her to where her mother had hung up her shawl, she plucked it down and dragged it across her shoulders.
‘Lass? What—?’
‘I meant to explain right away but hadn’t the
chance …’ Wincing at the confusion in Flora’s wide eyes, Jewel busied herself with securing the garment. ‘Mr Birch asked me to work this afternoon, you see. I said aye, for he’s stuck without a nurse for the child, and … He needs me, so I’ll have to go. He said I could dash home to inform thee but I’ve to be right back. Sorry, Mam.’
Flora was crushed. ‘Oh, lass … Well, if you must, then you must. Eeh, but I were so looking forward to having thee by yon hearth forra few hours.’
‘Sorry, Mam,’ Jewel repeated, before rushing from the house, sure she’d explode into violent sobs – or blurt out the truth behind her need to make a speedy exit – were she to remain here a second longer.
Her tears flowed freely as she pelted, shawl flapping behind her and her long, swinging plait whipping her back, towards the park. There was nowhere else to go. She certainly couldn’t return to Mawdsley Street so soon; what would the Birch men make of that? Questions would be asked as to why she wasn’t using her free afternoon as it was intended, and she really hadn’t the energy to spin off a convincing untruth. Besides, she must look a state. They wouldn’t fail to notice something was amiss. One show of kindness or concern and her resolve would crumble. She couldn’t risk that.
Today, the serene grounds did little to ease her worries. She walked aimlessly, mind going over the scene, her anger slowly building into the familiar rage now with the passing seconds. Her mam, praising him … But, of course, she wasn’t to know. None of this was her fault. He was at wrong here. He was up to something, must be. He’d never shown much interest in his aunt or her home before now. And the way he’d looked at her with that lustful glint in his eye she’d come to loathe. Did he honestly think she’d let him … a second time? Perhaps having claimed her once, he now believed he could have her whenever he chose.
Her mouth moved of its own accord into a grimace. God above, just let those foul hands of his come anywhere near her again! She’d kill him. She would.
A familiar giggle drifted through the swaying branches of a cluster of trees to her left. Now, her spirits did lift somewhat and she stepped closer to peek through the shiny leaves. Maxwell was sat cross-legged by a flowerbed in the distance. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his dark coat and hat lying in an untidy heap beside him where he’d tossed them on to the grass. He pretended to pounce and his daughter let out another squeal of laughter, her small, chubby legs tripping over themselves in escape.
Despite her earlier concerns regarding him seeing her and guessing all wasn’t well, Jewel’s feet itched to go to them. Mind made up, she quickly tidied her hair and rearranged her shawl – then turned sharply as, again, a voice she recognised rang out in the opposite direction, this time calling her name:
‘Over here, lass! Jewel, it’s me!’
Maria’s grinning face came into view and Jewel forced down her disappointment. ‘Hello.’
‘What you standing there for on your ruddy own?’ The maid beckoned her across. ‘Come on, take a walk with me, lass.’
Maria would think her stark, staring mad were she to turn down her offer to instead spend her free time with the master and miss. Didn’t Jewel see enough of them the rest of the week? she was sure to ask. And what answer she’d give Maria, she didn’t know, couldn’t explain the desire to be with them even to herself.
‘Well? Is tha coming or no?’
Glancing back through the foliage, Jewel swallowed a sigh then ran to catch her up.
‘So.’ Maria linked her arm through Jewel’s. ‘What were you about just now, hiding in yon trees?’
‘I weren’t hiding, just resting is all.’
‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’
‘Don’t you?’ shot back Jewel, her irritation rising. However, at Maria’s grin, she couldn’t help chuckling. ‘You’re annoying, you, d’you know that?’
‘Aye, I do know.’ The servant shrugged good-naturedly. ‘It’s just my way. We all have our crosses to bear.’ She spread her hands wide. ‘I’m annoying, you’re a moody cow. You see?’
Again, Jewel laughed. Despite her disappointment when the woman had appeared, she was now glad she had. Maria was a tonic for the soul, there was no denying it.
‘Mam died when I were little but I’ve a father and two sisters, if you must know. Called in on them earlier, I did, but father was skenning drunk, as per usual. His nastiness had driven the others from the house afore I arrived; I didn’t see the point in sticking around myself. He’d have only started on me had I stayed. Sod. I only drag myself there of a Sunday for the lasses’ sakes.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
Again, Maria shrugged. ‘It’s all right.’
Turning right, they wandered along the grassy expanse in companionable silence. Overhead, a flock of small birds glided and swooped. Bees hovered around the colourful flowers dotted about and their hum mingled with that of conversation from others out taking advantage of the weather and pleasant surroundings. Jewel felt she could have remained here for ever.
‘What’s your story, then, lass?’
‘I’ve a mam. I called in earlier but … Well, I didn’t want to stay. It’s nowt, really,’ she continued carefully when her friend frowned curiously. ‘My cousin were there and I don’t much like his company.’
‘Tries messing with thee, does he?’
Jewel was too shocked to respond to the accurate assumption spoken so matter-of-factly. She simply gazed straight ahead, wide-eyed. Her silence spoke volumes; Maria nodded.
‘Aye, thought so. My brother were the same afore I got my position. Always trying to get at me, he was, touching and what not where he shouldn’t. I were glad when he wed and buggered off out of it.’
‘Maria, that’s terrible.’ Jewel was wholly sorry for her. ‘Didn’t your father do anything?’
‘I never told him. Doubt he’d have done much anyroad if I had.’
‘But why? You should have gone to him, lass.’
The servant cocked an eyebrow. ‘Like you, yer mean? I take it your mam’s not aware of your cousin’s antics, eh?’
Maria was right. How could she, in her position, stand here and spout hypocritical advice? She nodded, shame-faced. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t tell her, Maria. The trouble it would create … Aye well. Least I’m away from him now, at any rate. Mind, he’d best not be hanging around Mam’s next Sunday, let me tell thee. He’ll bloody know about it if he is. No way will he stop me and Mam seeing each other. Never.’
‘What will you do?’
But Jewel hadn’t an answer. Talk was cheap; reality was an entirely different matter. She banished Benji from her thoughts and the women continued on their walk.
*
‘Here, sir, let me.’
‘Ah! Thank you, Jewel.’
Abandoning her chore of dusting the mantel, she held out her arms to the weary father with a smile. Constance, grisly with tiredness, wriggled to be set loose again but Jewel hushed her soothingly. ‘All right. Let’s take you forra little lie-down, eh? You’ll feel the better for it, aye.’
‘Thank you,’ Maxwell said again when she re-entered the drawing room to resume her duties, the child now napping peacefully upstairs. ‘You’re good with her, you know.’
‘Aye?’ Surprised pleasure brought a pink glow to Jewel’s cheeks. She’d doubted herself constantly since arriving here because of her inexperience with caring for youngsters and fretted herself sick over how she’d cope with her own. To hear this from him was a precious boost to her confidence.
‘I mean it. She’s taxing, I understand, but you manage her admirably.’
Though he spoke the truth – the girl in the nursery was an exhausting whirlwind of energy – still, she felt the urge to defend her. ‘She’s but a babby, sir. The world and everything in it is so much more interesting and exciting to her; she can’t help but want to explore it. She’ll settle down, no doubt, as she grows.’
Maxwell nodded slowly. ‘Do you know, I’ve never thought of it that way. Of course, e
verything is new to her young senses. Here am I accusing her of making mischief. I feel ashamed.’
‘Oh, don’t. You’re a wonderful father. It can’t be easy for you, raising her by yourself—’ She broke off and cleared her throat, regretting her bold overfamiliarity. It wasn’t proper to put voice to her observations. It wasn’t a servant’s place. ‘What I mean is,’ she added quietly, ‘well … you’re doing just gradely, sir.’
Maxwell’s eyes creased. When he spoke, his words held a deeper meaning: ‘As are you, Jewel.’
Thanks to thee. In a way, you’ve saved me, Maxwell Birch. Saved me from myself. And you don’t even know it. The response swirled safely inside her mind. Though she could never voice it out loud, it didn’t make it any less true.
For a long moment, they stared at one another silently, gratitude in their eyes.
‘I’d best get on with my work, sir,’ Jewel said finally. ‘You put your feet up awhile, enjoy the peace afore the evening meal.’ She smiled, turned and made back towards the fire. She heard the door click shut behind her, telling her that Maxwell had heeded her advice and had taken himself to his room. With another small smile, she got on with her dusting.
As she worked, her mind switched to her afternoon with Maria. She was seeing a different side to her new friend and felt guilty that she’d judged her as brash on their first encounter. She wasn’t at all, no, just lively of spirit. Despite her harsh beginnings, she was generous and caring and fun. She was also desperate to be liked, it was clear to see.
Well, Jewel did like her, a lot. A connection had been formed when they had revealed their shared experiences with rotten family members of the opposite sex. For the first time, she felt she had an ally, and it brought her comfort. They understood in a world where it seemed no one else did. Perhaps they could be there for one another now, when either needed it, with a listening ear and a hand to hold. Hope made her heart warm.
The front door opening and closing heralded Roland’s return and, again, Jewel’s musings went back to the domestic across the street. Maria had revealed that he worked at the bank with his father. A few weeks before Jewel had begun her position here, Roland’s intended had broken off their betrothal after discovering he’d been romantically liaising with another woman. Servants talked – Maria was friendly with a maid who knew a maid employed by the betrayed fiancée.
