Hope

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘And did they find out?’

  Baines shook his head. ‘Everyone says the same, that it’s a mystery. There’s been no soldier round these parts.’

  ‘A soldier!’ Nell exclaimed. ‘She ran off with a soldier?’

  The bell rang from the drawing room and Baines went to answer it. Lady Harvey was sitting by the fire, Rufus on the rug at her feet, and she turned her head as Baines came in.

  ‘Is this true what Rufus has been telling me? That Hope left without a word?’

  ‘Yes, m’lady,’ Baines said. ‘I’ve just been telling Nell, she’s very upset.’

  ‘What an ungrateful little minx!’ Lady Harvey said indignantly. ‘After all Nell has done for her! Clearly you are giving the servants too much free time, Baines, if they have opportunities to meet men.’

  Baines bristled. It was bad enough that she should think servants weren’t entitled to a private life, but considering every one of them here at Briargate had been doubling up on jobs because Lady Harvey couldn’t afford to hire more staff, he didn’t know how she had the brass neck to say such a thing.

  ‘With all due respect, m’lady,’ he said, gritting his teeth, ‘Hope had no free time other than her afternoon off which she always spent with her brother and his family. Neither he nor I can imagine how and when she met this man. It was out of character too, she wasn’t a flighty girl, and she is very close to Nell.’

  ‘Nell may as well go home and talk to Albert,’ Lady Harvey said dismissively. ‘She won’t be any good to me if she’s upset; Rose can attend to me.’

  Baines felt a surge of anger at his mistress’s callousness. Nell had worked for her since she was Hope’s age, no one could have a more loyal and devoted maid, and she deserved better than to be told to go home without even a few sympathetic words.

  ‘I don’t believe Hope left willingly,’ Rufus suddenly piped up.

  His mother and Baines looked at him in surprise. His overlong fair curls made him look very young, but his expression was adult. ‘I’d say Albert forced her to go.’

  ‘Oh, whatever do you mean?’ Lady Harvey said sharply. ‘You told me she left Nell a letter.’

  ‘She did, Albert showed it to me,’ Baines said.

  ‘It is quite possible to force someone to write a letter,’ Rufus said stubbornly. ‘I’ve seen boys do it at school. Hope cared too much for Nell to run off when she wasn’t here.’

  ‘You are just a child, and you were at school when this happened,’ Lady Harvey retorted scornfully. ‘That will be all, Baines, please pass my message on to Nell and Rose. I would like a bath tonight before going to bed too.’

  As Baines was leaving the room he heard Rufus speak up again. ‘Mama, you shouldn’t ask Rose to fill a bath for you this late at night. She’s been working so hard today and she must be very tired!’

  Baines didn’t linger long enough to hear his mistress’s reply but he was moved by the boy’s compassion. He could also guess that it was Hope who had made him see the unfairness of the master and servant system.

  Nell sobbed as she walked down the drive to the gatehouse. Baines, Rose and Martha had done their best to comfort her, but there was nothing anyone could say that would make her feel better about Hope running off.

  Nell remembered what she was like at sixteen, so naive, so eager to experience everything, especially the mysteries of courtship and kissing. If it hadn’t been for Bridie suddenly telling her that Lady Harvey was having a baby, she would have gone off that same afternoon to meet Ned Travers in Lord’s Wood.

  She didn’t know why she’d never considered that Hope might be just the same as she was then, thinking about lads all the time and aching to have a sweetheart. If only she’d told Hope about Ned it might have encouraged her to reveal her own girlish dreams.

  Was it because she’d become so bitter and dried-up that unconsciously she didn’t want Hope to find love and happiness either?

  As she opened the door of the gatehouse, she could hear Albert snoring upstairs and there was an acrid smell which could only be from an unemptied chamber pot. Groping her way blindly in the darkness, she came to the table and found the candlestick and matches. As the match flared she saw the room was chaotic and her heart sank further.

  By the time she had three candles lit, she felt like turning round and going back to Briargate for the night, for the mess was appalling. Dozens of empty bottles were strewn around. Great clumps of mud from Albert’s boots lay all over the floor, chunks of mouldy bread littered the table and there were unwashed dishes everywhere, many of which she recognized as belonging to the big house.

  She hadn’t for one moment expected Albert to welcome her home with open arms, but surely to goodness any man knowing what lay in store for her on her return would try to do something to ease the pain of it. But he hadn’t even had enough respect for her feelings to tidy up for her.

  Remembering all the times he’d berated her for the rug in front of the stove not being straight, or the chairs not being pushed under the table, she was suddenly furious with him.

  As she stood there looking at the filth her anger grew stronger than her fear of Albert. Taking the candle, she marched up the stairs and kicked the bedroom door open. ‘Wake up, Albert. I want to talk to you,’ she screamed at him.

  ‘What is it?’ he said sleepily, and Nell wrinkled her nose at the stink of sweaty clothes and the full chamber pot.

  ‘You filthy wretch,’ she yelled. ‘How could you leave the place like this for me to come back to?’

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Cleaning is women’s work,’ he said sullenly.

  ‘Then you should have got a woman in to clean it,’ Nell snarled at him. ‘I saw Martha has been feeding you, so you could have asked her to clean up after you too.’

  ‘Shut yer mouth, woman,’ he said, and lay down again as if intending to go back to sleep.

  ‘You pig!’ she exploded. ‘Wasn’t it bad enough for me to get home and find Hope gone, without this too? And where’s the letter she left?’

  The question seemed to wake him fully. ‘How dare you come in here screaming at me?’ he said, swinging his legs out of the bed. ‘A working man needs his sleep.’

  Nell had always backed away before when he made a move towards her, but she didn’t intend to now. ‘A woman needs her sleep too, but do you expect me to sleep in that rats’ nest?’ she retorted, pointing to the bed. The candle didn’t give much light, but there was enough to see the sheets were dirty. The white counter pane Albert had always insisted must be smooth and crinkle-free was thrown on the floor and had been trampled over with dirty boots. ‘Now, get downstairs and tell me about Hope,’ she insisted.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything. I didn’t see her go. I only found her note.’

  The faint whine in his voice alerted Nell that he was lying. ‘Liar!’ she shouted, the candle jiggling in the candlestick because she was shaking with rage. ‘There’s a lot more to it than that, I know there is.’

  His hand came up before she even saw it move and slapped her hard around the face. ‘I will not be called a liar, and I’m glad the bitch has gone,’ he hissed at her. ‘So get out of here. You’ll find the sodding letter on the dresser.’

  When he moved as if to hit her again, Nell turned tail and ran back downstairs, suddenly all too aware she was on dangerous ground. She heard the bedsprings creak as he got back into bed, and all at once she was crying as if she would never stop.

  She found the letter, and held it close to the candle to read it. There was no doubt it was Hope’s writing; she had a bold, clear hand, the only handwriting Nell had never had any trouble in reading. She read it four or five times, but with each reading she became more puzzled.

  Her own reading and writing were rudimentary, and if she had to write a letter she couldn’t manage more than bald statements which never conveyed her feelings or any kind of description. But Hope had always been able to write as if she was speaking. When she wrote to James or Ruth her let
ters were always vibrant accounts of all the family and village news. This letter could have been written by Nell herself, except there were no spelling mistakes.

  ‘I am leaving with a soldier.’ Hope wouldn’t say just that; even if she were in a hurry she’d have put some kind of reason, a description of him or his name. ‘Please don’t be angry with me.’ It wouldn’t be Nell’s anger she’d worry about, only her heartbreak. Where was the sorrow at not saying goodbye, or the knowledge she would be letting everyone down? ‘You can have my things and the wages owed to me.’ Hope wouldn’t bother to say that, she would take it as understood. Just as her apology at taking one of Nell’s dresses was unnecessary.

  Later, Nell got into Hope’s old bed in the little room. It felt cold and damp with lack of use, but it was far better than sharing a bed with Albert.

  She remembered now the words she’d had with Hope the day before she left with Lady Harvey. Hope had said she had as much chance of finding a sweetheart while at Briargate as she did of becoming Queen. She wouldn’t have said that or looked so glum if there had been a young man already on her mind.

  Nor would she have left a letter here for Albert to read. She would have left it in her room at the big house. In fact, if she had been running away she wouldn’t have come here at all in case she ran into Albert.

  Like a beam of light in a dark room, suddenly Nell could guess how it all came about. Hope wasn’t running away, she’d come here to tidy up, just as Nell had asked her to do. Albert had probably come in while she was here, and perhaps Hope scolded him about the mess. And he hit her.

  Nell could almost see the scene playing out in front of her: Albert losing control completely, but then realizing Hope would tell Baines who would then tell Sir William.

  That was why Hope’s letter was so strange. She’d written it all right, but coerced to do so by Albert. She might have agreed to leave Briargate just so he’d stop hurting her, but how could he let her go? She would have run straight to Matt.

  All night Nell lay awake staring into the darkness, terrifying visions of Albert strangling Hope consuming her. She desperately wanted there to be another explanation, but what other one could there be?

  Soon after the clock downstairs struck four she heard Albert come creeping out of the room next door. She braced herself, thinking he was coming for her now. But he crept on down the stairs, and just a minute later she heard him go out of the front door. That was further confirmation of his guilt. If he’d had no part in Hope’s disappearance he wouldn’t creep around, nor would he go out over an hour early just to avoid seeing her.

  Nell’s cheek throbbed – she could feel it was swollen – and her anger and grief came back tenfold.

  It was Christmas Eve, a day of frantic preparation, yet in the past always a joyous one. Up until a couple of years ago there had always been many guests at Briargate, with a lavish celebration supper on Christmas Eve, followed the next day by an even more extravagant dinner. Nell had known years when a quartet of musicians had been hired, and they’d rolled back the rugs in the drawing room for the guests to dance. There were fancy-dress parties too. She recalled Lady Harvey dressed as Nell Gwynn and Sir William as Charles II, laughter and singing resounding throughout the house.

  But this Christmas was not going to be a happy one for anyone.

  Two hours later, as dawn was breaking, Nell picked up the pillowcase holding her belongings and made for the door.

  She had tidied up, not out of any sense of wifely duty, but merely to fill the time until she left for the big house. As she packed her things she found the dress Hope had taken was her oldest, a plain grey workaday one which would have been far too big for her. That was further confirmation of what she believed. If Hope had really been going to run off with her lover she would have cared what she looked like and taken the pretty pink and white one Nell had worn on her wedding day. But that was still folded away in the drawer, yet another symbol of all the dreams Albert had shattered for her.

  ‘Nell!’ Baines exclaimed as she swept into the servants’ hall where he was cleaning Sir William’s riding boots and plonked the full pillowcase of belongings on the floor. ‘What’s all that?’

  ‘My things,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t live with Albert any longer.’

  Baines looked stunned, but came over to her and lightly touched her inflamed cheek. ‘He hit you?’ he asked in little more than a whisper, his faded blue eyes grave with concern.

  ‘Yes, but it will be the last time,’ Nell said resolutely. ‘I’ll take up her ladyship’s early-morning tea now and talk to her about staying here. Is Sir William going out riding this morning?’

  Baines frowned. ‘He’s already gone out, but Merlin is still in the stable. He had harsh words with Lady Harvey last night. I don’t think you are going to find her very receptive to you this morning.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ Nell said tartly. ‘Just make sure Rose isn’t listening at the keyhole while I’m in with her.’

  Baines had a heavy heart as he watched Nell walking back into the kitchen. He had never seen her so steely and grim-faced before; whatever came her way, she always carried on smiling. He guessed she thought Albert was in some way responsible for Hope leaving.

  Baines didn’t like Albert, neither the way he looked down on the other servants nor his dour uncommunicative nature. He’d had even less time for him since the last occasion when he hit Hope, but he couldn’t see how Albert could be responsible for her leaving; since she’d moved into the big house, they hardly ever saw each other.

  It had been a huge blow to Baines when Hope left, for she was a good girl and worked hard, but if Nell carried out her threat and left Albert, the whole fabric of Briargate would fall apart.

  It was already threadbare: a skeleton staff, who with the best will in the world couldn’t take proper care of such a big house. With a drunken master, a mistress who seemed unaware of anyone but herself, and their son and heir growing up without any real guidance, disaster was imminent.

  Yet the gentry expected their servants to behave with the utmost propriety, to obey the laws of the land and of the Church, even if they flouted the selfsame laws themselves. Nell had a spotless character, and over twenty years’ service in this house, but Baines doubted that would mean the master and mistress would support her desire to leave Albert. Wives who left their husbands were always pilloried, even if that husband was cruel, a womanizer or a drunk. The chances were they would order Nell back to Albert, and if she refused she’d be told to leave Briargate.

  Lady Harvey was awake when Nell took her tray of tea in to her. ‘I’ve hardly slept a wink,’ she complained as she sat up. ‘The cold seemed to have got into my very bones. Then Rose woke me when she came in to light the fire.’

  Nell was tempted to snap at her and launch right in and tell her how her night had been. But, as always, she murmured sympathy as she put a light wool shawl round her mistress’s shoulders and plumped up the pillows behind her back.

  ‘Rose didn’t get the bathwater hot enough last night either,’ Lady Harvey went on. ‘I think she resented me asking for one!’

  ‘She had been working since five in the morning,’ Nell said as she put the tray of tea across the woman’s lap. ‘She has to clean the whole of the house now, do the laundry and help Cook. I expect she was just very tired.’

  ‘But it’s her job to clean and fetch and carry!’ Lady Harvey said indignantly.

  Nell bit back a sharp remark and went over to the windows to pull back the curtains. It was a grey, cold day, and the trees along the drive were skeletal and gaunt without their leaves, making the gatehouse clearly visible. She remembered how thrilled she’d been when Sir William said she and Albert could live there. She had been so excited at the idea of them having a home of their own she couldn’t sleep at night. But that was before the wedding. All those daydreams of a baby in her arms, a loving, caring husband, and her family visiting had all come to nothing.

  As she turned ba
ck from the window, she picked up from the floor the dress that her mistress had worn to travel in the previous day.

  ‘There’s a bloodstain on that,’ Lady Harvey said sharply. ‘My courses must have begun while we were coming home. See to it, Nell.’

  Nell looked at the woman she had adored and served selflessly for so many years, and suddenly saw her for what she really was; spoiled, vain and entirely self-centred. Even at forty-two, she was still beautiful, her blue silk nightgown the exact colour of her eyes, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and skin like porcelain. But there was a permanent sulky droop to her mouth and frown lines on her forehead from spending far too much time in a resentful state because her life hadn’t turned out as well as she had expected.

  ‘I will see to the dress,’ Nell said. ‘After I’ve talked to you about Hope.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to talk about that silly girl,’ Lady Harvey said irritably. ‘She’s made her bed, Nell, she must lie in it. Now, do you think the black satin dress I wore for the ball in Bath while I was still in mourning for my mother could be altered to make an afternoon dress? It has yards and yards of very fine material.’

  Nell gritted her teeth. ‘I must talk to you about Hope, mam. You see, I think Albert has killed her.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Nell.’ Lady Harvey gave a humourless laugh. ‘She ran off with a soldier. Even Baines has seen her letter. How on earth could you think Albert killed her? He’s such a sweet, gentle man.’

  Nell stood her ground. ‘Look at my face,’ she insisted.

  Lady Harvey lowered her teacup and glanced up at Nell. ‘It is exceedingly flushed, what have you done?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything. That was a slap from sweet, gentle Albert. He’s a brute, Lady Harvey. He’s hit me dozens of times, and Hope too. Now I believe he’s killed her.’

  Lady Harvey tossed her head in total disbelief and plonked her teacup down into the saucer. ‘I won’t hear any more of this rubbish,’ she said dismissively. ‘Hope is a stupid little whore who would rather be fucked than work for a living.’