by Carol Rivers
‘I am a merchant in every conceivable kind of tobacco,’ Lucas Benjamin explained proudly. ‘The salon provides a private space for smoking and intellectual discourse as our customers select their purchase.’
He walked over the highly polished parquet flooring and drew aside a deep blue velvet curtain. To Ettie’s surprise this revealed yet another room. It was furnished with sumptuous looking button-backed leather chairs placed around a low table set with three crystal decanters and matching tumblers. To the rear was a mahogany sideboard. Its polished surface was arranged with yet more tobaccos, pipes and cigarettes. Ettie had only ever seen a person smoking when at the market, though the old gardener had sometimes enjoyed a broken half of a thin cigarette as he worked. She had never imagined such intimacy existed for the sole purpose of talking and smoking.
‘You look somewhat surprised. Is this not to your liking?’
‘Oh no, Sir, I think your salon is very …’ she panicked for the right word, ‘interesting.’
‘Most certainly, yes,’ Lucas Benjamin agreed. ‘The salon was Papa’s inheritance from my grandfather. But sadly …’ he paused, giving an indecisive shrug, ‘Papa was taken early by illness and Mama decided that I should come home from my studies at boarding school and help her to continue the business.’
Ettie saw a wistful look come over his face, as though he was considering what might have been had he not followed in his father’s footsteps.
He let the curtain fall back into place and smiled benignly. ‘Many gentlemen find it a chore to source their preferences. The salon relieves them of that duty and caters for every taste.’ He coughed politely. ‘Sitting at leisure in the salon a gentleman may smoke to his heart’s content.’
‘Lucas, why didn’t you call me?’ A pretty, but delicate-looking young woman appeared from a door set in the shadows.
‘This is my wife, Clara,’ said the tobacconist, swiftly taking her arm. ‘My love, this is Miss O’Reilly, but we shall call her Ettie.’
‘Good day, Ettie.’
‘I am very pleased to meet you,’ Ettie answered nervously.
‘And I, you.’
Ettie found herself staring at this tiny, diminutive figure whose pale countenance was extremely striking. The crimson dress she wore was extremely beautiful but did not flatter her complexion. Her eyes would have been beautiful if they had not been somewhat faded. Her fair hair was parted in the centre and drawn back into a bun behind her head.
‘My wife does not enjoy the best of health at present,’ the tobacconist said hesitantly.
‘I am much better today, Lucas,’ declared Clara Benjamin in a breathless voice. ‘What would Ettie think of me if I did not welcome her on her arrival?’ She lay a small hand on her chest. Encased in it was a lace handkerchief that she gripped very tightly. ‘Let us take Ettie into the drawing room, Lucas. I shall sit by the fire while you show her the house.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ The concerned young man turned to exit through the inner door.
As Ettie followed, another, much stranger smell caused Ettie to frown in dismay. It caused her to think of the orphanage sick room and the strong disinfectant the nuns used to mask the unpleasant odours.
Chapter 9
They left Clara seated by the fire in the small but comfortable drawing room and paused in the room adjacent. Above the mantle hung a gold-framed portrait of a handsome young woman. Her sandy-coloured hair was dressed with modest ringlets and she wore a high-necked gown that covered her throat. Her confident eyes were like Lucas’s, a startling sky-blue.
‘Rose Benjamin,’ announced Lucas in a proud voice, ‘my Mama as a young girl – a stunner, wouldn’t you say?’
Ettie thought of her own mother, Colleen, and wished not for the first time that she had some keepsake to remember her by. A small fragment of handkerchief, or even a book she might have read. But all she possessed was the story Sister Patrick had told her.
‘You will join us for meals,’ Lucas said suddenly. ‘This room is far too large for two. At last it will fulfil a purpose.’
Ettie gazed admiringly at the gleaming polished dining table and its six upholstered chairs. How grand it was in comparison to the nuns’ simple refectory table and benches. She felt more at home in the kitchen where there were many pots and pans hanging on hooks from the shelves. The dirty black-leaded stove needed cleaning, as did the battered copper kettle on the range. The sink was piled high with unwashed dishes. Ettie felt the urge to put things right immediately.
‘A small scullery and washroom leads to the privy,’ Lucas explained as he pointed through a small window. ‘We have running water in the tap and a pump in the yard.’
Ettie followed her new employer into a short passage and negotiated two flights of stairs, which were cluttered with boxes similar to those she had seen in the salon. When they came to the top, he pushed open a door.
‘I do hope this room is suitable,’ he mumbled. ‘The outlook is not very impressive I am afraid. It can be quite noisy sometimes. The tavern spills out the drunkards and the women cat-call after them. But we have tried to make the space as pleasant as possible.’
Ettie gazed around the bedroom. Compared to the rest of the untidy and disordered house, it was immaculate! She could hardly believe her eyes. Daylight spilled in from a sash window decorated with lined flowery curtains and lace. Beneath was a single bed with a matching coverlet, two plump pillows and an extra fluffy white blanket folded at the foot. A tall chest stood next to a marble-topped washstand. Placed upon the stand was a pretty blue and white patterned china bowl and ewer. In the far corner stood a vast wardrobe with two tall doors and drawer beneath, its light oak wood embellished in an ebony trim.
‘This room is …’ Ettie hesitated, for she was surprised at the effort that it must have taken to prepare her quarters. ‘Very lovely indeed.’
Lucas breathed out on a relieved sigh. ‘Thank goodness for that. My wife is very particular – at least she was before her small health hiccup.’ He went a bright pink. ‘Clara gave me her orders and I carried them out. I hope I have done both her and you, justice.’
‘Indeed, Sir. I couldn’t want for more.’
‘Delighted my dear – that’s what I am, delighted,’ whistled Lucas through his two prominent front teeth. ‘This was Maggie Rowe’s room, our previous maid. You’ll find her uniform in the wardrobe. She was about your size. My wife has had it laundered.’
‘Thank you,’ Ettie said again.
‘Is there anything you need?’
Ettie looked around the room once more. The strange smell was chased away by the breeze flowing in from the half open window. The pretty flowered curtains fluttered gently over a comfortable easy chair. The thick rug on which she stood felt warm beneath her feet. There was even a bar of soap on the washstand and a soft towel folded neatly beside it. Her eyes lingered admiringly on the pretty floral coverlet of the bed. In comparison to the girls’ dormitory at the orphanage, this room was a delight!
‘No. I am most grateful, Sir.’
‘Good!’ He rubbed his hands together and beamed a relieved smile. ‘In that case, I shall leave you to rest.’
But Ettie recalled Sister Patrick’s words of advice; she was to be diligent and hard working at all times. ‘I should like to begin my duties, Sir.’
Lucas nodded approvingly. ‘And so you shall. But all in good time. Please enjoy an hour to refresh. At six o’clock we shall eat supper. You will hear the gong. Please join us.’ And with that, he turned and quietly left the room.
Ettie felt a faint sense of relief replacing her earlier dread on leaving the convent. Sister Patrick had assured her she would be found a good home and it seemed that this was true. Lucas and Clara Benjamin had welcomed her warmly, going to a great deal of trouble to prepare her room. Clara Benjamin had even got up from her sick bed to greet her. Ettie wondered again what was wrong with the pretty young woman.
Taking off her coat and shawl, she opened the wardrobe. It
was so spacious she felt as though she could climb inside and sleep there! Hanging from a rail was a grey, formal looking dress and white apron. She wondered if it would fit her. Taking it down she smelled the cloth. There was a mixture of tobacco and soap ingrained in the weave. Not unpleasant at all. The waist would fit her and the hem came down to her boots. But oh dear, her boots! As much as she had cleaned them, it was evident they were old and worn-out.
Ettie replaced the dress and went to the bed. She sat on its soft surface and sighed. Could a bed possibly be so comfortable? A smile came to her lips, but soon disappeared as she thought of the children. What pitiful conditions were they suffering, while she was enjoying this luxury?
Quickly she jumped up, full of guilt. Her heart began to ache again as it had when leaving the orphanage for the last time. Then suddenly voices drifted in from the street outside. She wandered to the window. Two men were quarrelling in the middle of the street. Both seemed unsteady as they shouted and pushed each other.
Ettie lifted the window an inch. She listened, but had no clue as to what they were yelling. In no time at all they had collapsed to their knees, punching each other’s dirty face. A crowd gathered, cheering them on. Ettie had never seen men fighting before. A man’s nose splashed blood all over the other and two women stepped forward. They were dressed in long, dirty skirts and blouses that Ettie thought were so skimpy they were about to drop off. One of them raised her booted foot and kicked the man’s bottom. He went sprawling, rolling into a pile of dung.
Everyone began laughing.
Ettie couldn’t resist a chuckle. If this was to be a daily pantomime, as Lucas had suggested, then she would have no complaint at all.
Ettie heard the faint peal of the gong and hurried downstairs.
‘Good evening,’ Lucas said as he met Ettie in the passage. He balanced a fat brown cigar between his fingers. Stubbing it gently into a glass dish on a shelf, he sighed.
‘Unlike Mama, Clara does not like me to smoke in the house. But I am allowed to enjoy a few minutes of excellence before a meal. I am sorry if the smell offends you.’
Ettie inhaled the distinctive smell of the extinguished cigar. ‘Not at all, Sir. I find it quite pleasant.’
‘Very good, very good!’ Lucas held out his hand. ‘Come this way.’
Ettie followed Lucas into the dining room and past the magnificent portrait of Mrs Benjamin.
Ettie noted there were now many books and papers scattered around. A small table bore a variety of unwashed glasses, cups and saucers. A half-eaten sandwich remained on the top of the cupboard. Clearly the Benjamins needed a maid!
Clara was already seated. ‘Do join us,’ she said, pointing to the chair opposite.
Ettie sat down. Clara had changed into a beautiful deep blue gown with dainty ruffles around the neckline. In her hair she had clipped a sparkling slide. Ettie studied with embarrassment her dowdy shift. What would the Benjamins think of her appearance?
Nothing was said however and Lucas uncorked a bottle. He poured three generous glasses of wine.
‘I’m sorry to say that since our maid left us, we have had become slovenly.’
‘Do you cook, Ettie?’ Clara asked as Lucas left for the kitchen.
‘Yes,’ replied Ettie. ‘The nuns taught me.’
‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Clara exclaimed. ‘Perhaps we could impose on you one day?’
‘I shall start immediately,’ Ettie replied. ‘I helped in the convent kitchens from when I was small.’
‘My dear, was it a happy life?’
Ettie smiled. ‘Yes, indeed it was.’
‘There is a church at the far end of Silver Street,’ Clara continued. ‘Please feel free to worship there on Sundays.’
Ettie knew then she would be very happy with this couple.
‘Right-ho, my dears,’ said a voice behind them. Lucas strode in, a napkin over his arm. ‘Are you ready?’
Ettie found herself waiting expectantly as a tray was brought from the kitchen. Although the tureens were made of good quality, she saw it had been many months since they were polished.
Lucas removed a cover. Three lean slices of colourless fish appeared. The next tureen contained diced carrots and mashed potatoes.
‘Smells delicious,’ said Clara with rather a forced smile.
Lucas produced three slightly chipped dinner plates and a pair of tongs. Very soon a toast was proposed.
‘To our new family member,’ cried Lucas, raising his glass of wine. ‘Welcome again Ettie!’
She blushed. How wonderful it was to be part of a family again!
Lucas nodded to her glass. ‘I hope the wine is to your liking?’
Ettie took a sip. Somehow she managed not to wrinkle her nose. ‘It’s very nice,’ she managed, wondering which knife and fork she should use. Quickly she copied her hosts.
Hunger overcame the bitter, sour tang of the fish and the insipid flavour of the mash. She was so ravenous she ate every scrap. Whilst Clara left most of hers!
Chapter 10
Ettie had cleared all the dirty dishes and washed them, returning them to the cupboards when Lucas strode into the kitchen.
‘I shall roll up my sleeves and help you this very moment,’ he told her.
‘No, Sir,’ Ettie replied. ’But thank you all the same.’
‘I fear you may work your fingers to the bone.’
Ettie smiled. ‘No, Sir. My bones are quite strong.’
Lucas chuckled. ‘Very well then, but come sit with us for a few minutes before we retire to bed.’
Ettie took off her apron and followed Lucas to the drawing room.
She sat in a comfortable chair by Clara.
‘Tell us a little about yourself,’ Clara said, curious.
Ettie tried to answer honestly. She described the nuns and the convent she had grown up in and all the orphans who had joined her there over the years. Her life seemed to be of great interest to the couple and Clara had expressed her dismay when she heard of the careless farmer.
‘Those poor babies!’ she exclaimed. ‘If only we were rich, Lucas. We could look after them.’
‘Now, now my dear,’ consoled Lucas, patting her hand. ‘You have a very soft heart. But we can’t help the whole world.’
Clara smiled sadly. ‘I am overjoyed that we found you, Ettie. Before you were sent off to the wilds. We saw the advertisement for the employ of a maid in the newspaper and Lucas applied immediately.’
This came as a shock to Ettie. She had been advertised on the pages of a newspaper? Sister Patrick had not told her of this. But then, Sister Patrick had not told her very much at all. Not even the names of this couple or where – exactly – they lived.
Ettie glanced up at the large clock on the mantle. It was past ten. She stood up not wanting to wear out her welcome. ‘Goodnight,’ she bid them, making a small curtsey.
‘Goodnight Ettie. Don’t work too late,’ Clara told her.
The house was very quiet as Ettie continued her chores. The kitchen was warm and functional but needed a good clean. The cupboards had to be rearranged from their higgledy-piggledy untidiness. The mangle and boiler in the outhouse reminded her painfully of the laundry, but this time, she shed no tears. For God had given her a new family and she would work hard to reward them for their generosity. Lucas and Clara had welcomed her so warmly.
As Ettie climbed the stairs to the first floor, she heard Clara’s soft tones behind the bedroom door. Then came Lucas’s deeper voice. Although Ettie deeply missed the orphans, she was grateful for God’s goodness.
Tomorrow she would rise early, light the fires, tidy the drawing room, fetch water from the pump in the yard and cook breakfast. The black leaded range would smell fresh and look sparkling before Lucas set eyes on it. The house would be swept, dusted and polished before Clara sat in her chair.
And if she had time, she would trace the origin of the odd smell. Ettie was too tired to peep out of the window. Instead she lay under the pretty coverle
t of her bed, enjoying its luxury.
Silver Street was noisy indeed - just as Lucas had predicted. Drunkards shouted and women cat-called. But Ettie welcomed the sounds that made up her new world. The world that Michael had warned her about.
The world that Michael himself was part of. If only she knew where!
Ettie rose at the crack of dawn to say her morning prayers. She included her new family as well as her old one. Neither did she forget Michael who was never far from her thoughts.
She washed with the water from the china pitcher and dressed in the previous maid’s uniform. Looping the white apron tightly around her waist, the grey dress was almost her size. She found a round white cap and coiled her dark hair beneath it. Her boots were her only regret. But she soon forgot about these as she sped around the house – cleaning, dusting and emptying the high piles of ash in the glass dish.
Once the books and papers were returned to the cupboards and a fire lit in the drawing room, she washed the dirty china and cutlery that seemed to have gathered around the house. The source of the perplexing smell came from a small pedestal desk in the hall. The drawer was full of small bottles. The smell equalled no other that she could think of, except perhaps the orphanage sick room, where Sister Patrick had the medicines kept under lock and key. Ettie washed each bottle, removing any sticky substance that had dribbled down the sides.
Having done her best to eliminate the smell, she was blacking the stove when Lucas whistled his way into the kitchen. A strong smell of cigar tobacco wafted from him as he looked around.
‘My word! My word!’ he exclaimed as he rocked on his heels with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. ‘Is this the abode of the tobacconist Lucas Benjamin and his good wife, Clara? Or have I mistaken my direction? Is this not a palace I see before me? I must be at the wrong address!’
