A Sense of Duty

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Kit fought and struggled in earnest then, trying to squirm her face away from his slobbering mouth, not fully understanding what he wanted but knowing it was dangerous and wrong. ‘Algy, please don’t, it’s not right!’

  ‘Come on, Kitty! You wouldn’t have led me on so if you didn’t want it.’ Algy coaxed her with more frantic kisses – and before she could do anything about it one of his hands was investigating her drawers.

  Kit almost fainted – what on earth would happen next if she did not stop him? She intensified her valiant struggle against the unknown, but her protestations fell on deaf ears, and she turned instead to the Lord, praying for him to save her.

  Then, somebody banged violently on the cupboard – both occupants yelled – and Algy dropped her like a hot ember. In the ensuing panic Kit was able to free herself, unlatch the door and flee.

  Whilst Algy threw a punch at the laughing culprit, Charles, who had disturbed him, a frightened Kit made good her escape, running for all she was worth along the corridor as far from Algy as possible.

  Her heart had barely stopped thumping ten minutes later when a rather vexed Amelia found her upstairs on the servants’ landing. ‘There you are! I got a real lecture because of you!’

  Alert to the reprimand, a nervous Kit pulled herself into order, whilst Amelia ploughed on.

  ‘She wants to see you later – oh, don’t worry, I didn’t say you were to blame! She just wants to talk to you because you’re new.’ Her expression remained stern. ‘And can I ask why you’re up here? I told you to get the baths ready – and what on earth have you been doing? You’re all flushed.’

  Kit’s blush intensified and, to hide it, she told a half-truth. ‘I’ve just run all the way up the stairs – I can’t find the baths anywhere!’ However desperately she wanted to unburden herself of the terrifying incident it was not the sort of thing she could discuss with Amelia – especially as her sister had warned her about Algy. Oh, if only Beata were here to confide in!

  ‘Well, you won’t find them up here!’ Amelia led the brisk march downstairs, annoyed at Kit’s lie – she had obviously been slacking.

  ‘Sorry! I did look high and low, honestly.’ Following her sister, Kit retained a wary eye for her would-be seducer, for she was sure he had not done with her yet.

  ‘Obviously not far enough,’ complained Amelia, going straight to the place where the baths were kept.

  Kit was too watchful of Algy to pay heed to Amelia’s complaint, and felt her face burn as the footman offered her a crafty wink in passing, seemingly oblivious to how much he had frightened her. Dreading a confrontation, particularly in front of Amelia, she was vastly relieved when he offered no further interference for now – though the promise was there in his eyes, and she resolved to steer clear of him as much as she was able.

  Carrying a bath between them, the two sisters hurried up the back stairs until there was no other way of avoiding the main house. They were struggling along a corridor when Amelia groaned and whispered, ‘Oh no, it’s the master! He doesn’t like to meet servants on this side of the door.’ Downing the bath, she flattened herself against a wall, indicating for her sister to do likewise, but it was impossible for one so well-endowed as Kit not be noticed and the master, in passing, dealt her an irritated glance, his eyes briefly resting on the shelf of her bosom that rose and fell from its exertions. Whilst Amelia lowered her gaze Kit stared directly at him until given a nudge by her sister.

  ‘Haven’t you caused enough upset for one day?’ Amelia muttered at her when it was safe to do so. ‘The mistress is one thing, he’s another. If he thinks you’re getting too big for your boots you’ll be down that road.’

  After having travelled up and down stairs several times in the emptying of baths, Kit harboured the private thought that perhaps it might be a blessing if she were dismissed, for to walk from one room to another in this house could seem like miles. But there was much more to concern her than this. Oh, she had been flattered by the attention of such a well-positioned man, and would gladly have allowed Algy to court her in a fitting manner, but she had not bargained for such overwhelming advances.

  Having avoided her would-be seducer all afternoon, Kit was dismayed to find that she was expected to assist Algy in the serving of afternoon tea in the drawing room. Fortunately, encumbered by a fully laden tray he was ill-equipped to pounce on her – though the look in his eye told that he would love to do so, and as they made their way through the green baize doors he whispered a seductive apology for their being disturbed earlier but he would make up for it later tonight. Kit almost dropped the silver cake-stand in fright.

  A clock chimed four as they entered the lavish drawing room. Neither the master, the mistress nor their son Wyndham paid them any heed, though the elder daughter of the house gave a faint smile when Kit happened to catch her eye. The younger children were upstairs taking tea with their nanny, but Master Tish was here, showing an avid interest in Kit’s movements as, by her mistress’s chair, she rested a stand arrayed with thin slices of bread and butter and small cakes, and on another stand a dainty kettle.

  Whilst Algy was setting down his own tray that contained a silver teapot, milk jug and sugar basin, and porcelain cups, his counterpart, Charles, entered with news that a friend of the family had come to call.

  ‘Show our guest in,’ ordered the mistress. ‘Tish, my darling, run along to your room, there’s a dear.’

  Familiar with such commands, Tish asked if he could take a cake with him, and on being granted permission, left by a side door.

  When, hat in hand, the male guest entered, Kit tried to show that she was up to the job by approaching him with a polite query. ‘Can I take your hat, sir?’

  Handing it over on his way to greet his host and hostess he did not seem at all perturbed by this, though when Kit happened to catch the mistress’s eye she saw annoyance in them and there was an edge to the voice that told her, ‘That will be all!’

  When, downstairs, Amelia enquired how her sister had coped, Kit frowned. ‘I think I might have upset her, but I can’t imagine how.’

  She was not to be enlightened immediately, either. With countless jobs to be performed right up until the end of her working day, Kit had almost forgotten the mistress’s displeasure until bedtime cocoa had been imbibed and she was sent to collect the empty cups from upstairs.

  Only the mistress was present in the drawing room now, her attitude rather cool. Kit had placed the cups on the tray and was about to leave, when she was ordered to remain.

  ‘Your name is Kit, I believe?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Kit laced her hands over her apron, adopting a subservient pose.

  ‘I understand from Mrs Grunter that you have been chosen as a replacement for your sister when she marries. I have always thought very highly of Amelia’s work.’ Mrs Dolphin had obviously forgotten today’s incident with the vase. ‘That being so, you must pay the utmost attention to her instruction and to the rules of etiquette which I am now about to bestow upon you.’

  Kit’s clear blue eyes held the other’s face. Her mistress’s eyes slanted downwards, she had a long nose and a jaw that appeared wider than her brow, with brown hair parted in the middle and scraped back into a chignon which had the effect of dragging her face down even further and making her a picture of misery, though her voice was quite youthful.

  ‘Clearly you have not worked in such a household as this before and that is why I am going to make allowances for your earlier faux pas.’

  Though not conversant with the latter phrase, Kit knew by the tone that she had erred. ‘I’m sorry if I did anything wrong, ma’am!’

  ‘Kit, you must learn to attend your betters and then you will have no need to apologize.’ Zenobia Dolphin showed no sign of haughtiness, was obviously genuine in her desire for Kit to do well, but it was most apparent that she felt she knew best. ‘You must now heed what I say very carefully. Your approach to our guest earlier breached several rules. First you said,
“Can I take your hat, sir?” It is not can I but may I. Secondly, it was a grave error that you approached him at all. You must never do so again. A gentleman always carries his hat until he has shaken hands with his hostess. He will then lay it down himself, at which point you may take it.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’ Kit was contrite.

  ‘You are forgiven.’ Zenobia Dolphin bestowed a kind smile.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ About to go, Kit was recalled.

  ‘Oh, by the way! I feel there is another matter I should mention. It may not fall to you to lay the table very often but should it do so I must warn you that I insist on strict adherence to my standards. I was forced to take issue with your sister about it today.’

  Kit gave an inward sigh. Obviously the incident had not been forgotten after all. ‘If it’s about the vase, ma’am, Amelia told me you like it put in a special position.’

  ‘Then I am surprised she was so remiss with its placement.’

  Kit knew she should have owned up, but felt she had been chastised enough for one day. However she made token apology, adding, ‘She did have a lot to think of, ma’am, what with having to teach me her duties.’

  The tolerant smile was displaced by affront. ‘That is totally irrevelant, Kit! Neither you nor your sister must presume to disregard your mistress’s orders.’

  For a second Kit was flabbergasted by the mispronunciation, then blurted, ‘Oh, I’d never do that ma’m! I just meant—’

  ‘Kit!’ Mrs Dolphin interrupted in stern but serene manner. ‘You must learn not to answer back.’ At the other’s apology, she inclined her head. ‘You may go.’

  Back in the company of her peers, Kit remained stunned. ‘I can’t believe it! I can’t believe she said irrevelant. And her having just given me a lecture on how to speak! If she were a real lady she’d know how to say it – why, even I know that.’

  Whilst others went about their business, making preparations for the morning, Amelia covered her face and groaned through her fingers. ‘Oh, you didn’t correct her?’

  ‘What do you take me for? No, but I felt like it. Making me stand there, improving my speech when her own credentials aren’t what she’d have others believe.’ Oblivious to the stony expressions of the other servants, Kit continued to pour aspersions on her employer.

  ‘Well, if you don’t like it here you know what you can do!’ snapped Ivy before going up to bed, others voicing similar sentiments.

  Turning astonished eyes to watch the procession of candle flames that filtered from the room, Kit was immediately chastened. Looking to her sister for clarification, she saw that Amelia obviously shared the others’ indignation.

  ‘Those cocoa cups need washing – if it isn’t beneath you,’ said Amelia, making her own way to the stairs.

  Ignoring Beth Garbutt, the only other person left in the room, Kit gave a perplexed sigh, then beheld the sinkful of pots with dismay, muttering, mainly to herself, ‘How was I to know they were all so fond of Mrs Dolphin?’

  The frail old woman pushed herself slowly from her chair and shuffled towards Kit, her face portraying great kindness. ‘It’s not so much that, lass. Can you not see? It’s you going on about her being stupid – what does that make them as works for her?’

  Astonished primarily that the crone could even speak, Kit had no reply.

  ‘Yes, I can string two words together, should anybody bother to consult me,’ came the sardonic response.

  ‘Oh, I meant no disrespect!’ stammered Kit who, even though she dwarfed the other, was awed by Mrs Garbutt’s aura of experience. ‘I just thought —’

  ‘Just because others behave as if I wasn’t here doesn’t actually make me invisible.’ At Kit’s chastened attitude she relented. ‘It’s partly my own fault, I suppose. I gave up wasting my breath years ago on people who don’t listen – but they’d learn a great deal if they did, you know!’

  ‘I’m sure they would.’ Kit was sincere. ‘I beg your pardon, if I were rude.’

  This was granted with dignity, the mottled, withered hand squeezing hers.

  Kit’s large breast heaved. ‘I seem to have done nowt but upset folk since I got here. First Lily—’

  ‘Oh, don’t bother your head about her!’ The look of kindness on the ancient face was replaced by one of dismissal. ‘She’s nobbut a kitchen drudge and thick as pig muck. Besides, as parlourmaid you won’t be mixing much with the lower orders.’

  Kit was surprised at the sudden lack of magnanimity. ‘What position did you hold, Mrs Garbutt?’

  The ancient retainer grasped this rare opportunity of an audience to state proudly, ‘I was housekeeper to Mr Dolphin’s father most of my life. But that’s not to say that washing pots is beneath me – away, I’ll give you a hand with these cups.’

  ‘Nay, I’ll do it!’

  At the third voice, both women turned. Feeling sorry for her crestfallen sibling, Amelia had come back. Wearing a look of barely restrained impatience, she put down her candle. ‘Off you go to bed, Mrs Garbutt. I’d better not leave this one to her own devices. That Algy might be lurking in the stairwell.’

  Kit flinched.

  Relapsing into her usual docile mode, old Beth delivered a final pat to Kit and hobbled to her room. But passing Amelia, she sought to donate the benefit of her experience. ‘She’ll learn.’

  ‘She’d better,’ announced Amelia, at which Kit offered an apology which was accepted.

  Grateful for the support, Kit waded into the dirty crockery. ‘Aw, thanks for coming back! I reckon you might be right about that Algy.’ She hesitated, but was unable to voice her true reason for coming to this conclusion, and added simply, ‘He’s been looking at me in a funny way. I’m going to lock me door tonight.’

  ‘You’ll have a job.’ Amelia dried each cup as her sister put it down. ‘Didn’t you notice? There’s no locks.’

  ‘I’ll make a barricade with me box then.’

  Remembering the difficulty she had had in lifting Kit’s belongings, Amelia looked approving. ‘The weight of that’d keep an army out.’

  Kit giggled nervously. ‘Algy – I thought that were summat that grows in ponds.’

  Amelia had never been quick to spot a joke, and merely shrugged.

  When the washing up was done, the girls left the deserted kitchen and, candles aloft, made for the stairs, encountering only the steward, who was always last to bed. Upon being escorted to her room by Amelia, who told her they would rise at seven, Kit did as promised and hauled her box against the door. Then, not completely satisfied that she was safe, she undressed nervously, pulled on her nightgown, said a quick prayer and hopped into bed. Hauling the covers under her chin, she lay there in the candlelight, pondering Algy’s vow to ‘make it up to her later’ – when a faint noise caused her face to turn quickly toward the door.

  The candle flame danced as she sat bolt upright. Her skin crawled. Knees up to her chin under the sheets, teeth nibbling the linen, a wide-eyed Kit watched the handle turn, saw the door come open an inch, heard it make abrupt contact with the barricade.

  An urgent whisper through the gap. ‘Kitty!’

  Heart thudding, she waited, knowing who it was, not daring to breathe for fear that he would take it as a sign to force an entry, her distended pupils glued to the door for long, nerve-racking seconds.

  But nothing happened. After that agonizing pause, the latch clicked back into place and all was silent.

  Allowing her trapped breath to escape, Kit fell sideways in relief. Then, after a few more apprehensive moments, she leaned over, blew out the candle, and lay there pondering her day and all its excitement, rehearsing what she was going to say to Algy tomorrow morning to cool his ardour, wondering would she ever get used to life in such a vast household, and would she manage to keep this job long enough to make any friends.

  7

  The next morning, Kit awoke much earlier than the allotted hour, disturbed by the lower orders who were forced to start work at six. Ke
en to impress, she was already up and assisting a harassed-looking scullerymaid to mop up a pool of milk from the stone-paved floor of the kitchen when her sister came looking for her.

  A bleary-eyed Amelia stood on the perimeter of the white puddle, observing her actions. ‘Does Mrs Grunter know you’re doing that?’ There were strict demarcation lines amongst the servants.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen her, but she wouldn’t expect me to let poor Myrtle struggle on her own, would she?’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ said Amelia.

  ‘Well, the poor lass was just taking Cook her cup of tea and this happened.’

  ‘And if Mrs Hellawell doesn’t get her morning tea on time she’s a devil to work for,’ lisped Myrtle, mopping and wringing for all she was worth.

  Amelia was unsympathetic. ‘Well, you’ll just have to leave her to it now, Kit, because we’ve the table to set in the breakfast room.’

  Rising from her knees, Kit apologized to her partner for having to desert her, at which, Myrtle, an uncomplicated, rosy-cheeked girl, bestowed a grateful smile.

  ‘You’re making a rod for your own back helping her,’ warned Amelia as they made their way through the dim corridor.

  ‘I just felt sorry for her. She seems a bit dim.’

  ‘A bit? I should say so. She hasn’t been here a fortnight and I doubt she’ll be here much longer. Give her anything more important to do than scrubbing floors and she’ll always muck it up. You’ll be forever covering for her if you’re daft enough. There’s enough work of your own to do without that.’

  This was true. In the hour before breakfast Kit and Amelia had to perform several chores besides laying the breakfast-room table. Then just before eight, whilst the housemaids transported water for bathing, the sisters carried trays of tea for their employer and his family.

  ‘You take Master Wyndham, Tish and the master,’ ordered Amelia. ‘I’ll deliver these to the lady’s maids.’

  Thanking her sister for this dubious honour, Kit delivered the morning tea to the master first. Recalling yesterday’s instruction that on no account must she speak unless spoken to, she felt that such intrusion warranted at least a polite cough. But there was no reaction. In fact Mr Dolphin did not even pay her the courtesy of opening his eyes, his blubbery visage, puffed and bloated from sleep, looking more unattractive than ever. Far from being insulted over the lack of acknowledgement, Kit was grateful to experience no further discomfort – unlike that which she received from Master Tish who, in the ten seconds that she was in his room, managed to instil her with extreme disquiet by sitting bolt upright and never taking his eyes off her, so much so that in her desire to escape she slopped tea over the sides of the last cup on the tray.