by Mary Arrigan
‘Grandpa!’ I shouted, jumping up. ‘Grandpa, I can’t do this!’
He began to run down the avenue, waving his hand.
‘Sit down, Missy,’ the groom snapped. ‘I can’t control the trap if you’re jumping about.’
His manner scared me. I took one last look back. Grandpa was standing in the middle of the avenue with a lost look on his face. He raised his hand and gave a feeble wave. I didn’t wave back.
The groom looked at me as the horse settled into a trot on the empty road.
‘Are you going into service?’ he asked.
I nodded, trying not to burst into tears.
‘You’re a bit young, ain’t you?’ he went on. ‘What are you, nine?’
I wiped my nose and took a deep breath. ‘I’m nearly thirteen,’ I said.
‘Ha!’ he laughed, tapping the horse with the whip. ‘Taking on children now, are they? You won’t last long, Missy. You couldn’t even reach the sink.’
‘I’m to be trained as a lady’s maid,’ I said. ‘Lady’s maids have nothing to do with sinks.’
He laughed again. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
The five miles to the Burgess estate seemed to go on for ever. Every turn of the wheels was taking me farther from home. Then I reminded myself that, in a few days’ time, the house I’d grown up in would no longer be my home.
After a long silence, the groom asked, ‘What’s your name?’
‘What?’ I looked up.
‘Your name. You do have a name, don’t you?’
‘Esty,’ I said. ‘Esty Maher. What’s yours?’
‘John Joe,’ he replied, tapping the horse with the whip again. ‘That’s me.’ Then he looked straight at me. ‘Your da, was he the Craythorn middleman?’ I nodded, waiting for him to spit. I knew by now that many middlemen were not as honest or trustworthy as Papa.
‘Brave man,’ John Joe went on, looking at the road again. ‘Good that someone stands up for the poor.’
I felt relieved and comforted. For the rest of the journey we talked, only lapsing into silence when we passed tattered people grouped around a demolished cottage or a crude grave. Once I nearly screamed when I saw a man pull an old lady up out of a hole in the boggy land beyond the roadside.
‘Scalpeens,’ John Joe muttered.
‘What’s that?’
‘Scalpeens,’ he repeated. ‘They’re holes and trenches in the ground that evicted people dig out for shelter. They’re allowed to take part of the thatch from their broken home and use it to make a shelter on common land.’
‘Oh, no!’ I exclaimed. ‘That’s awful.’
John Joe shrugged. ‘Happening everywhere,’ he said. ‘We’re lucky, Esty. Work is hard at the Burgess estate. At least we have food and lodging.’
But all I could think was: would this be the fate of Grandpa and Mama?
I voiced my fear to John Joe. He shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Your da was a middleman. There’ll be money. There’ll be good things to sell and there’ll be some of your father’s wages due. Your family can afford to rent a cottage on the estate – you’ll see.’
As we passed through the back gates of the Burgess estate, I thought I was going to be sick.
John Joe grinned at me as he reined in the horse in the courtyard beside the stables.
‘Home, my lady,’ he said, sweeping an exaggerated bow and helping me down from the trap.
Chapter Six
I stood awkwardly at the kitchen door when John Joe tried to usher me through. Although the kitchen wasn’t as big as Lord Craythorn’s, it was much busier, with more servants. But then, I’d never been allowed into the Big House when his lordship was in residence, so, apart from the soup days, I was unused to such kitchen bustle. I clutched my bag and hoped nobody would see me. However, everyone was too busy to notice.
John Joe pulled me towards the stout back of a lady who was standing at the huge iron range, where pots steamed and bubbled with frightening intensity.
‘Mrs Casey!’ John Joe shouted over the din. ‘Mrs Casey!’
‘What?’ she said, turning around impatiently. I shrank closer to John Joe when I saw her red, steam-hot face frowning at being disturbed. But the frown disappeared when she saw John Joe.
‘Ah, it’s yourself, lad,’ she said. Then she noticed me trying to hide behind him. ‘And who have you got there, eh?’
John Joe pushed me in front of him. I kept my eyes firmly on the floor, wishing I could slip between the flagstones.
‘Miss Esty Maher,’ said John Joe with a laugh. ‘At your service. Go on, Miss Esty, say hello to Mrs Casey, mistress of this kitchen and a woman to be feared by all and sundry – even them upstairs.’
Mrs Casey laughed and offered me a plump hand. ‘Come here, alannah, and let’s have a look at you. My, you are a tiny little thing, aren’t you, eh?’
‘Going to be a lady’s maid,’ John Joe went on. ‘Isn’t that right, Esty? None of your kitchen antics for her, Mrs Casey. She’s going places, is Esty.’
I wished he’d stop. I was conscious of other eyes on me as staff walked past.
‘Well, is that a fact, now?’ chuckled Mrs Casey. ‘We’ll have to put some flesh on those bones then, won’t we?’ Then her tone became serious. ‘We were all sorry to hear about your papa, alannah,’ she went on. ‘A brave middleman. Stood up for the poor tenants. Not like some.’
When I looked up at her soft, kindly face, I wanted to clutch her apron and beg her to ask Mrs Burgess to let me go home.
There was a sudden lessening of chatter. Mrs Casey stood upright, her hands on her hips. ‘Hm,’ she sniffed.
‘What’s going on here?’ a crisp voice asked. ‘John Joe, you shouldn’t be here. Go at once to your stable duties. Mrs Casey, how is lunch progressing? Mrs Burgess has some pressing engagements in the afternoon.’
Then: ‘Who is this child, and what is she doing here?’
I shrank away from the thin, black clad woman, her sharp features emphasised by grey hair caught back in a tight bun at the nape of her wrinkled neck.
‘Miss Esty Maher,’ said Mrs Casey, pushing me in front of her. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know about her,’ she added with an air of triumph. ‘After all, Mrs Burgess particularly asked for her to come into service here.’
‘This girl?’ The lady was slightly taken aback as she peered at me. ‘This is the new…?’ But she quickly regained her composure. ‘What are you doing here in the kitchen?’ she said to me.
I didn’t know how to answer. I was close to tears. But Mrs Casey answered for me. ‘John Joe went and fetched her, Miss Burke,’ she said. ‘The child has just arrived.’
‘He should not have brought her to the kitchen,’ snapped Miss Burke. ‘She’s expected upstairs. John Joe should have known.’
‘Perhaps nobody told him,’ Mrs Casey said with a sniff, before turning back to her pots on the range.
Miss Burke poked me in the shoulder. ‘Take your bag and follow me,’ she said, striding away. I looked at Mrs Casey for a comforting glance, but she was busily stirring something in one of the big saucepans. I ran to catch up with Miss Burke, and this time I could see the curious faces turned in my direction. I followed Miss Burke up what I would soon come to know as the staff stairs.
When we reached the front hall, she looked me up and down. I automatically rubbed each shoe on the back of my legs and brushed down my coat.
‘Wait there,’ she said, then knocked at a white, panelled door.
When she was summoned inside, my eyes took in the huge hall. A big table with a vase of flowers took up the centre of the hall. The tiled floor was scattered with richly patterned rugs. Paintings hung along the walls and above them were exotic animals’ heads mounted on wood, some of them snarling with sharp teeth as though they were still fighting against their captivity. I gazed up at the glassy-eyed creatures and wondered what misfortune had brought them to gather dust in a house in Ireland.
‘Come a
long, child. Don’t dawdle. And leave that bag there.’
I jumped. Then I took a deep breath and went to meet my employer.
Mrs Burgess was sitting on a sofa before a large fire, a small glass in her hand. A girl of about sixteen sat opposite, her green silk dress fastened at the neck with tiny buttons. Behind her, a young woman in a starchy white apron was pouring something from a jug. Miss Burke nudged me ahead of her, before withdrawing and closing the door.
Now I was alone before these strangers. I just wanted to turn and flee.
‘Come over here, child,’ said Mrs Burgess, holding out her hand. The standing woman looked at me with curiosity.
‘This is Esther,’ Mrs Burgess went on. I wasn’t asked to sit, so I just stood there, unsure of what to do with my hands. ‘The child I told you about, May,’ she said, looking at the other woman who was handing a glass of juice to the girl in the green dress. ‘May is lady’s maid to my daughter, Miss Emma,’ Mrs Burgess said to me. ‘She’ll be teaching you all you need to know. You’ll be sharing a room with May and you’ll have your meals below stairs.’ She paused.
I didn’t know if I should speak or not, so I just stood awkwardly in silence.
Miss Emma looked at me as she took a sip of juice. I licked my lips, partly from nervousness and partly because I’d had nothing to eat or drink since the evening before.
‘She’s very young, Mama,’ she said. ‘I can’t think why we want another lady’s maid. May does well enough for me.’
‘Shush, Emma,’ replied her mother. ‘This is an act of charity. Esther’s father was middleman for Lord Craythorn. He died, dear.’
‘Lord Craythorn?’ exclaimed Miss Emma. ‘Has he died?’
‘No, of course not. His middleman has died.’
‘Oh,’ said Miss Emma. I couldn’t but note her relief that it was my papa who had died, and not Lord Craythorn. I wished they would all die right there, with their drinks and silk dresses. I was a mere act of charity. How I longed for Mama and Grandpa.
Mrs Burgess and her daughter continued to chat as if I wasn’t there until, as if brushing away a bothersome fly, Mrs Burgess turned towards me.
‘You may go now, Esther. May will tend to you later.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Where shall I go, Ma’am?’
Miss Emma laughed. ‘Downstairs, girl. Where do you think?’
‘No, dear,’ put in her mother. ‘May can take her. Besides, it’s almost lunchtime, so May will be leaving anyway.’
I was so glad to get away that I forgot to curtsy. May caught my arm before I reached the door.
‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she said, indicating the two ladies. ‘You must always remember to take your leave of gentry in a proper manner. You’re part of this household and you must act properly.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ I muttered miserably, turning to curtsy.
‘Well done, May,’ said Mrs Burgess. ‘I can see you’ll knock the rough corners off the girl.’
May’s words stuck in my mind as I followed her.
Part of this household? Never.
Chapter Seven
‘I hope you don’t snore,’ May said, as I unpacked my things into the chest of drawers beside the iron bedstead she’d pointed me towards.
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied nervously.
Our small room was at the top of the house. It had a slanted ceiling with a window that looked straight up into the sky. The wooden floor was scattered with colourful rag rugs, which added a comforting note to the austere furniture – a large wardrobe, a washstand and a ladder-back chair with clothes folded on it. There was a bookshelf too, but no books.
‘I made those,’ May remarked, nodding towards the rugs. ‘Made them from bits of fabric left over from Miss Emma’s dressmaker.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ I said.
‘Yes, well, you take care you don’t walk on them, Missy.’ She removed her white apron and folded it on her bed.
Don’t snore and don’t walk on the floor. Could it get any worse? ‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ I said.
May looked at me. ‘Pardon?’ she said. ‘Sorry for what?’
‘That you have to share your room with me. I know you don’t want to, but it’s not my fault.’
To my surprise, May laughed, which made her look much younger than I’d thought. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. ‘Stop looking so miserable, Esther. I’m joking. Can’t you tell when someone is joking?’
I shrugged. ‘Not really,’ I replied.
‘Well you’d better get used to it, dear. It’s the only thing that’ll keep you sane in this madhouse. Besides, I’m pleased to have company. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to up here.’
‘Really?’ I said, brightening up.
‘Yes, really. What do you think it’s like having to bow and scrape to Miss Emma all day, every day? “May, do this. May, fetch me that.” Sometimes I want to scream and pull her hair.’
She stopped, and laughed. ‘Picture that if you can.’ Then she frowned and leaned towards me. ‘I hope you won’t repeat what I’ve just said. I’d lose my job. Me and my mouth! My mother, God rest her, always said it would get me into trouble.’
‘Of course I won’t say anything,’ I assured her. ‘I’m not a telltale.’
‘Good. We can chat here, Esther. But outside this door it will be different, you understand? I have my position, you have yours. My job, I’ve been told, is to train you to be a lady’s maid. I’ll pull you up, just like I did as we left the parlour. That will keep the ladies happy and make me look good. Then you’ll probably be passed on to some other household.’
‘What?’ I exclaimed.
‘Oh, don’t worry. That won’t be for ages. Just realise that, while you’re training, you will be given other duties as well. You’ll have to earn your keep. Now, smarten up, we’re going down to lunch. I hope they’ll let you sit with me.’
‘What do you mean, let me sit with you?’ I asked.
‘Household hierarchy,’ laughed May. ‘Everyone has their own place at table, according to their rank. Mr Egan, the butler sits at the top with Miss Burke. Then come the rest of us; me, housemaids, coachman, right down to the stable lads and scullery maids who sit at the bottom.’
‘Where do you sit?’ I asked.
‘Towards the top,’ May said with a smile. ‘Which is why I don’t have many friends among the staff. Too low for the high, and too high for the low, if you get my meaning. Now, hurry, Esther. There’ll be a fuss if we’re late.’
‘Esty,’ I said. ‘Call me Esty.’
The kitchen was hot and steamy and filled with chatter as the staff took their places on either side of the long table. May gave me a sympathetic look when I was directed to sit at the bottom of the table. I was conscious of the curious, cold stares from the two scullery maids as I sat down to share their bench. I looked around for John Joe, but there was no sign of him. I wondered if he lived with his family outside the estate, and hoped not. I needed friends here at this hostile end of the table. I stood up with the others as the butler solemnly said grace. Then the chatter started up again.
One of the scullery maids leaned towards me.
‘I know you,’ she said. ‘I seen you with your da, in your pony and trap.’
‘Have you?’ I said.
‘Yes. All la-di-da, thinking you were better than the rest of us. We used to run after you, me and me brother, hoping you’d throw us a coin or two. But you never did. You’re not so la-di-da now, are you, Miss Snooty?’
I blushed with embarrassment. The scullery maid sniggered as she helped herself from the stew-pot that filtered down from the other end of the table. By the time the pot got to me, there was very little left. As I tried to scoop out the sticky remains, the two maids giggled.
There was a draught when the back door opened. John Joe! I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his familiar face.
‘You’re late, boy,’ Mr Egan said with a scowl.
‘S
orry, sir,’ said John Joe, pulling out a chair opposite me. ‘Horse had a stone in her hoof.’
‘Well, you must suffer the consequences,’ the butler said grandly. ‘We have all had our share.’
‘It’s all right,’ put in Mrs Casey, getting up from the table and going to the range. ‘I knew the lad was delayed, so I’ve saved him some stew.’
He winked at her cheekily as she put a fresh plate before him. Then he spotted me.
‘Well, Miss Esther Maher,’ he said with a laugh. ‘How are they treating you?’
I blushed again, and concentrated on the sticky mess on my plate.
‘Not very well,’ giggled the first scullery maid. ‘The mighty Miss Maher has to take her place with us now. A pot-scrubber, just like me and Rose.’
‘Watch your tongue, Betty Murphy,’ said John Joe. ‘Esty’s had to put up with just as much as the rest of us. You and your family have done well from the Burgess table, so consider yourself lucky.’
‘Well, her da’s a middleman,’ retorted Betty Murphy. ‘No fear of them goin’ hungry.’
‘Esty’s da died trying to stop the bailiffs,’ said John Joe. ‘So let that be enough from you.’
I blushed, wishing I could just disappear under the table. It was then I noticed the other scullery maid slipping bits of her stew and bread into a cloth spread on her lap. She looked at me with a mixture of guilt and fear. I looked away quickly. Whatever she was up to, it was none of my business.
When at last the meal was over, everyone dispersed. I made to move away with May when I saw Miss Burke coming towards me.
‘Wait, young woman,’ she said. ‘Your duties are here in the kitchen.’
I started to stutter that I was training to be a lady’s maid, but she cut me short.
‘Training, yes,’ she said. ‘But don’t you know that training comes at a price? Your training is confined to afternoons only. Other than that, your place is with the other servants. Now, start clearing up with Betty and Rose.’
I looked appealingly at May, but she just gave me a helpless glance before leaving the kitchen. I looked at the huge amount of dishes and wondered where to begin.
