by Rhys Bowen
“You might have to sell?”
Lady Charlton gave a tired little smile. “My dear, this house is hardly the correct size for one old lady. I don’t have the staff to run it properly. Poor old Ethel’s joints creak so badly that she can hardly get up the stairs. It should have a family in it. Life and laughter. Happiness.”
“What happens to your husband’s title? Is there no heir to move in?”
“The title has died out, I’m afraid. There are no immediate relatives and only a couple of female cousins.” She sighed. “No, there is no legitimate claim on the Charlton name.” She paused, then chuckled. “Which is lucky, don’t you think? Or I might have been turned out of here by now. Heirs have a habit of doing that to elderly dowagers.”
Emily hesitated, then took a deep breath before saying, “One thing, if I may. I don’t want the rest of the village to know about the baby and my situation. Not yet, at least.”
“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll just say that you’re a war widow, like so many others. Nobody will question it these days. What did you say your young man’s name was?”
“Flight Lieutenant Robert Kerr.”
“Then you are Mrs Kerr—the war widow. The truth shall remain between the two of us.”
Emily looked at Lady Charlton and felt tears coming to her eyes. She had never dared to hope that this remote and haughty old woman could be so kind. It felt like an answer to her prayers. “Thank you. You’re very understanding,” Emily said.
The door opened, and Mrs Trelawney came in with a tray bearing a silver coffee service. Emily wondered whether she had been listening outside and how much she had overheard.
“There wasn’t much of that gingerbread left,” she muttered as she put the tray down on a low table. “You ate the rest. So I brought some biscuits.”
“Then please bake some more,” Lady Charlton said testily. “You know how fond I am of it.”
“I’m not a magician, am I,” Mrs Trelawney said, equally testily. “We’re still on rations, you know. And they are out of black treacle at the village shop.”
She was about to make a grand exit when Lady Charlton called after her. “And please get Ethel to bring out some bedding for”—she paused—“Mrs Kerr. She has had the bad news that her husband has been killed in action.”
“She’ll be staying here?” Mrs Trelawney frowned.
“No, I’m going to be moving back into the cottage,” Emily said. “So I won’t be under your feet too much, Mrs Trelawney.”
Mrs Trelawney gave an audible sniff as she went out. They heard her yelling. “Ethel? Where are you? Someone needs to go up to the linen closet and I have the luncheon to prepare.”
Emily exchanged a grin with Lady Charlton. “I’m rather afraid Mrs Trelawney doesn’t welcome my presence.”
“Mrs Trelawney has grown extremely lazy with the years,” Lady Charlton said. “I keep her on because she has been with me since I moved into this house thirty years ago and because I wouldn’t want to start afresh with someone new.” She paused, then gave a throaty chuckle. “And because she doesn’t cost much.” Then her face became sombre again. “And she is quite devoted to me in a dog-like way.”
Emily sipped the coffee with relish. How long since she had drunk coffee from a bone china cup? She finished the cup reluctantly, and was about to make herself go and face the cottage when she remembered. “I think I have a way to ease the burden on Ethel and Mrs Trelawney,” she said. “Do you remember the young girl, Daisy, who worked in the garden with me? She is a trained housemaid, and she is willing to come and work for you. I don’t think she’ll need paying too much.”
“Have you asked her?”
“Oh yes. It was she who suggested it. She saw the house was in need of extra hands when we were here before. And she, too, has nowhere to go at the moment.”
“She’s not also in the family way?” Lady Charlton asked sharply.
Emily had to laugh. “No. She does not wish to return to the house where she was in service before. The master had wandering hands.”
“I see.” Lady Charlton nodded. “Well, you are full of surprises, Miss Bryce—or I should say Mrs Kerr. Of course I accept her kind offer. And I am sure Ethel will be more than grateful. Mrs Trelawney, too, only don’t expect her to show it.”
“Then I’ll go and tell her now, once I’ve taken the bedding down to the cottage.” Emily stood up to go, then held out her hand to the old lady. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”
“It’s purely selfish on my part,” the old woman said. “I enjoy your company. I’m tired of living on my own.”
As Emily went through to the servants’ quarters, Ethel appeared, her arms piled high with sheets and blankets. “Here you go, miss,” she said. “Although why you’d want to live in that cottage is beyond me. They say it’s haunted.”
“Cursed, that’s what it is.” Mrs Trelawney appeared from the kitchen. “Bad things have happened to every woman who’s lived there. Two murders, one woman hanged. So either the cottage is cursed or the women are cursed who come to live there. I’m not sure which.” And she gave a malevolent little smile.
As Emily carried her pile of bedding down the hill, buffeted by the wind, she met Simpson, coming towards her with firewood in his arms.
“Well, little missy, what are you doing here again?” he asked.
“I’m coming to live in the cottage for a while, Simpson,” Emily said. “I’m glad I bumped into you. When you have time, can you stock me up with coal or wood or whatever I need to keep the fire and the stove going?”
“Coming to live in the cottage? Well I never! Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yes—for now, anyway. I’m going to keep working on the garden and also help Lady Charlton catalogue her husband’s treasures.”
“She’ll be pleased about that, I don’t doubt,” he said, nodding with satisfaction, as if he, too, was pleased. “She became quite fond of you in that short while, and that’s not like her. Usually, she doesn’t take to people—quite snooty and standoffish, she’s been, especially since her husband, son and grandson died. So you’re bringing her out of her shell.” He smiled. “I’ll bring you both coal and wood, my dearie. It will be more wood than coal these days, what with the rationing and all. There are always plenty of downed branches on the estate, if I have the energy to cut them up. And I don’t suppose you’ve had much experience in getting fires going, have you?”
“None at all. No experience in anything, except planting crops now. I’m quite good at that.”
This made him laugh. “Don’t you worry yourself then. I’ll give you a hand.”
Emily reached the lane and walked up the narrow front path between the overgrown bushes to the front door. I should try to make time to tame this little wilderness, too, she thought, pushing trailing branches out of the way. As she stepped into the tiny living room, she realized that she might have created a rose-tinted image of the cottage. She was now looking at a forlorn little room with the bare minimum of furniture and no adornments of any kind. She realized that it hadn’t seemed so bleak when the three of them had sat on those chairs and laughed while the setting sun streamed in through the window. The cottage felt damp and cold, and a draught blew strongly down the chimney. She felt a moment’s panic. Why did she want to be in this place when she could have a room in the big house and sit with Lady Charlton by the fire? But she answered her own question. Like a fox being chased by the hounds, she needed a bolthole in which to lick her wounds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Emily put her bags down in the narrow front hall and climbed the steep stairs to the attic bedroom where she had slept before, bending her head as she stepped inside. Without the sun shining, it was dark and gloomy and cold. The sloping ceiling felt oppressive, almost threatening. She decided she’d be warmer and somehow safer sleeping downstairs, and so she came down carefully. When she had finished making up the bed, she carri
ed her bags into the room and was going to put her clothes into the rickety chest of drawers in the corner, but remembered that Daisy would be waiting to hear from her. So instead, she headed straight for the Red Lion and found Alice and Daisy still sitting by the fire with big mugs of tea in their hands. Daisy seemed remarkably happy to hear that she would be working at Bucksley House.
“I don’t know why you are looking so delighted at going back to being a maid and working under Mrs Trelawney every day,” Emily said. “I don’t think I’ve come across a more unpleasant woman.”
“That’s all right,” Daisy said. “She’ll be so glad that I’m taking over the work that she’ll be nice to me.”
“I hope so, for your sake,” Emily said.
“At least I’ll be close to you and Alice,” Daisy said. “And far away from my dad and that other place.”
“So all went well with Lady Charlton?” Alice said.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” Emily replied, accepting the mug of tea she was offered. “She didn’t want to give me the cottage, she wanted me to stay at the big house.”
“How nice for you. I hope you accepted,” Alice said.
“No, I did not. I told her I’d rather have my own place, if she didn’t mind.”
“You’d rather have that damp and draughty place than a manor house? Are you daft, girl?” Alice asked.
Emily had to laugh at her expression. “No, you don’t understand. I need to learn to live on my own. I have no skills at all. How am I going to take care of a baby if I can’t even do the simplest tasks? And I need a place where I can have a good cry if I want to. I don’t want to be brave all the time.”
“Of course you don’t,” Alice said. “And don’t you worry, love. I’ll come over and teach you a bit about cooking if you want.”
“And I’ll come down from the big house and clean for you,” Daisy said.
“You are both too kind.” Emily looked from one to the other. “But I need to learn to do my own cleaning, Daisy. I’ve got to be completely independent, I see that.”
“Well, I’ll come up now and help you with getting the fire going and things,” Alice said.
“And I’ll take my bags up to the big house and get myself settled up there. Then I’ll come down and report to you,” Daisy said.
Alice and Emily walked together across the green and up the lane to the cottage.
Emily paused at the gate to the cottage. “Oh, and, Alice, you haven’t told Nell Lacey about me, have you? About the baby and everything?”
“I haven’t said a word, love.”
“Because Lady Charlton said exactly what you suggested—that I call myself Mrs Kerr and say I’m a war widow. I don’t like lying, but at least for now I think it might be so much easier.”
“Of course it will. So mum’s the word. Now, let’s see what needs doing in here, shall we?” She went ahead of Emily, opening the front door and stepping into the living room. “Strewth, girl!” she exclaimed, as if seeing it for the first time. “It ain’t Buckingham Palace, that’s for sure. You’ve got yourself a big job ahead.” Then, as Emily stared around her, she went on, “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s get cracking, shall we? First things first, we need to get that stove going or there will be no hot water. And that kitchen floor and them windows need a good washing. And them curtains—they look like they’re about to fall to pieces, and they won’t be no good at keeping out the cold. You tell them at the big house that they need to find you some better curtains.” She walked on through to the kitchen. “And some more pots and pans, too. There ain’t no way you can cook yourself a decent meal with what you’ve got there.”
“I won’t need much in the way of cooking things,” Emily said. “I’m planning on taking my midday meals up at the big house, so I’ll only need breakfast and supper here. And supper can be bread and cheese, can’t it? And breakfast can be toast or a boiled egg if we can get eggs.”
Alice frowned. “You’ll need to be eating properly,” she said. “You’re eating for two now, remember.” As she spoke, she took down the saucepans from the shelf and filled the biggest one with water.
“Alice?” Emily asked. “You and Bill didn’t have any children then?”
Alice stopped what she was doing. “We had a little girl,” she said, almost in a whisper. “My little Rosie. Sweet little thing, she was. Good as gold. Hardly ever cried. And when she was just turned one, she caught diphtheria and died. And we weren’t blessed with another one.”
“I’m so sorry.” Emily felt her own eyes welling with tears. “We’ve all lost so much. Why is life so full of suffering?”
“The blokes at church would tell us it’s so we appreciate heaven more one day, I suppose,” Alice said with a bitter laugh. “I don’t think there’s any answer myself. You’re either lucky or you’re not. And right now, most of us are ruddy unlucky. And we just have to make the best of it. Come on. Hand me the plates from that dresser and let’s rinse them off or you’ll be eating dust.”
Emily looked out of the back window. “Oh, here comes Simpson with the firewood now. We can get the stove and a fire going.”
“Here we are, little missy,” Simpson said, setting the firewood down. “I’ll be back with more wood and coal, too. Do you want me to get the fire going for you?”
“It’s all right,” Alice said. “I can show her. I’ve lit enough fires in my life.”
“Well, that’s good then. I’ll leave you to it,” he replied.
Between them, they got the fire and then the stove going. Then Emily swept while Alice scrubbed. They were red-faced and panting after an hour’s work.
“I wonder if it’s time for your dinner,” Alice asked. “You need a clock here, don’t you?”
“I brought my watch with me from home. It’s in my suitcase. But I don’t think it’s wound,” Emily said.
“A watch. How fancy,” Alice said. “I wish you’d shoved a couple of nice rugs and a few cushions and pictures in that suitcase when you left home.”
“I had to leave so many nice things,” Emily said. “I could only carry the bare minimum without arousing suspicion. And so much of my clothes would be useless to me now.”
“Here, don’t let that fire go out now,” Alice said. “Bring in some more wood and I’ll show you how to bank it up. You’ll need to do that at night so that the embers are still good in the morning.”
At that moment, the church clock chimed twelve.
“There’s your answer to the time, Alice,” Emily said. “I won’t go up to lunch until one. In fact, I’m not sure I should go up there at all today, since Mrs Trelawney wasn’t expecting me. She wasn’t at all pleased to see me, so I don’t want to annoy her more than necessary.”
“Then you come down to the Red Lion with me today, love,” Alice said. “Nell Lacey’s made a stew that’s big enough for all of us.”
Emily needed no second urging. After the meal, Alice and Nell helped her make a list of groceries she would need. The list soon became awfully long, as they kept thinking of more and more items. “And flour. And baking powder, currants and sultanas if you’re ever going to make a cake. Not that you’ll find what you need these days at the shop, with everything being in such short supply,” Nell warned.
“Hold on a minute.” Emily held up her hand. “I don’t even know how many minutes it takes to boil an egg. I can’t visualize myself baking a cake for a long while yet.”
“Didn’t your mum teach you how to cook then?” Nell looked concerned.
Emily blushed. “We had a cook at home. My mother didn’t know how to cook either.”
“My word,” Nell said. “So you came from a real swanky type of house then? What on earth are you doing here?”
Emily took a deep breath. “My parents and I didn’t see eye to eye about the man I wanted to marry,” she said.
“I see. He wasn’t good enough, is that it?”
“He was Australian. He didn’t operate by their rules—polite etiqu
ette and all that. But there was nothing wrong with him. He was a wonderful man.”
She turned away, not wanting Nell to see her stricken face. Nell put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, my dearie. I should never have brought it up. Of course it brings you pain just to think of him. Half the women in this village are in your boat. No, half the women in England.”
“I know,” Emily said. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
She left them then, and went to the village shop with her grocery list in hand. They had whittled it down to the bare essentials, but she got a shock when she read out her needs to Mrs Upton.
“I don’t stock milk, madam,” the shopkeeper said.
“Is there a milk delivery route then?” Emily asked.
“Not what you’d call a proper route. You’d have to have a word with Mr Gurney from the home farm when he comes through early in the morning. If you put out a jug or a churn, he’ll fill it for you. Twice a week, he comes through.”
“And bread?” Emily asked.
“I’m not a bakery, my dear. The women around here bake their own. And I’m not a butcher either. You have to go into Tavistock or arrange with one of the farmers when you hear he’s going to slaughter a sheep. And frankly, these days, it’s hard enough to get your hands on any kind of meat. It goes straight to the government, doesn’t it?”
Emily saw that fending for herself in the cottage was going to be harder than she had imagined. “So what can you let me have?”
“Did you bring your ration book?” Mrs Upton asked. “Because most of the things you want are on ration these days.”
Emily hadn’t thought of that. Her ration book was still at home with her parents. The government had fed her while she was a member of the Women’s Land Army. And if she managed to acquire her ration book, it would still be in the name of Emily Bryce. It seemed as if there was to be one problem after another.
