Above the Bay of Angels: A Novel

by Rhys Bowen

  Oh dear. I did like him. I did enjoy his company, but he was a mate, a pal, nothing more.

  “Nelson, I was told in no uncertain terms that stepping out with a fellow was frowned upon,” I said. “I don’t want to lose my job.”

  I saw his face fall.

  “I really do like you,” I said. “I’m having a grand time this afternoon with you, and I’d certainly like to repeat an outing with you. But let’s take things one step at a time, shall we? As you say, neither of us is in any position to make any plans for the future, beyond what we have to cook for tomorrow’s meals.”

  He grinned. “You’re right about that.”

  “The only thing I can promise you is that there’s no one else in my life.”

  “That’s good then.” He gave a satisfied little nod. “Shall we go and see if they’ve a tearoom here? I could do with a hot cuppa and a bun, couldn’t you?”

  I agreed. Over tea, he told me about his family—his mother the matriarch and his six brothers and sisters. His father had met with an accident while working on the railways when Nelson was twelve, and he had gone into service right away to support his family. “Boot boy to start with,” he said. “And worked my way up to under-cook. Found I liked the cooking part.”

  “Just like me,” I said. “I started off as a housemaid. Up at five to get the boiler going and light the fires.”

  “We’ve got such a lot in common, it’s no wonder we get along so well,” he said. And I realized that yes, we did have so much in common. Was I wrong to have ideas above my current station about the man I’d like to marry someday? And I remembered the promise I had made at my interview—that I would not have any suitors. That would be a convenient excuse if Nelson began to take our friendship too seriously.

  CHAPTER 10

  I heard no more from Ronnie Barton, so I had to presume he had applied for the position with the Prince of Wales and been granted it. After that, I found that I could finally breathe more easily. I did everything required of me, I made my daily scones and in the evenings I studied those recipe books, wondering if I would ever be able to produce a soufflé or Mazarin to the queen’s satisfaction. Christmas was approaching, and we were informed that the queen would be departing for Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, where, as was her custom, she would join other members of her family for the holiday. She would be taking with her Mr Angelo and several senior members of the kitchen staff—all men. It was explained to me that they did not like to include women in the party because of the travel arrangements. It was not seemly to stuff one woman into a third-class carriage with seven men, or to have to use the same facilities when nature called.

  It was also imparted to me that we who were left behind would be cooking for the palace household members—a simpler sort of menu altogether—and would be allowed to join our families for Christmas Day if we wished, since there would be enough cooks with no family ties to put together a Christmas dinner. Did I want to join Louisa and her new family? I wasn’t at all sure, but I thought it might be churlish of me not to do so. She had returned from her honeymoon, and I made the journey to Highgate on my next day off. She looked different somehow—immediately more poised and grown-up. Her hair was perfectly piled upon her head, and she was wearing a dark-green high-necked dress. She held out her hands to me as I was ushered in.

  “Bella, how lovely to see you. You don’t know how often I thought of you while we were away. Do come and sit by the fire, and we’ll take some tea.” She turned to the hovering maid. “Please tell Cook that my sister and I will take tea now and not wait for your mistress.”

  “Very good, Mrs Harrison,” she said and retreated.

  I studied her with interest. Did one month of marriage turn a girl into a confident grown-up woman? As soon as the door was shut, Louisa looked at me and gave a very girlish, impish grin. “It’s rather fun, isn’t it? I do like having people to wait on me. It’s been for so long that I’ve had to do everything for myself. I even have my mother-in-law’s maid to do my hair.”

  “It looks very impressive,” I said. “So how was your honeymoon?”

  “The hotel was most agreeable,” she said. “It had a glassed-in conservatory that faced the promenade, so on inclement days we would sit, and Billy would read the newspapers, and I’d read the women’s magazines, and we’d take tea.”

  I was still studying her face. Was she trying hard to put on an act, or had she really turned into a remote stranger?

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” I said. “How was your honeymoon?”

  She glanced around, then leaned closer to me. “It was rather awful to start with,” she said in a whisper. “I mean, I had no idea what to expect. Do you know exactly what it entails? It’s shocking, Bella, what men like to do to our bodies. Why were we never told?”

  “Our mother died.”

  “But could you see her informing us of such things? She was always so refined. I bet she wouldn’t have said a word either,” Louisa said. “But I have to say that Billy was very patient with me, and now I’ve quite learned to endure it.”

  “Endure it? Are you not supposed to feel more positive than that?”

  She gave a little shrug. “I have to confess that I don’t enjoy it in the way that Billy seems to. I mean, all that bouncing up and down and panting. But I suppose it is a necessary obligation for a married woman, if one wants children, and I may come to enjoy it more as time passes. Although frankly, between ourselves I think it’s rather silly. And annoying when I’m tired at the end of the day and I’d rather be asleep.”

  She broke off as the door opened and the maid came in pushing a tea trolley. We allowed her to pour cups for us. The little cakes, I noted with satisfaction, were not up to our standards at the palace.

  “About Christmas,” I said. “I have good news. I’m to have Christmas Day free if I wish.”

  Her face fell. “Oh dear, Bella. I’m so sorry, but we’re to go to the family farm for Christmas. To Billy’s grandfather, out in the country, and we’ll be gone for a whole week. Do you think your employer would give you a week off to come with us?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said. “Just Christmas Day.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It won’t seem like Christmas without you.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll have a jolly time with my fellow servants.”

  She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. “Bella, I can’t bear to think of you as a servant while I enjoy all of this. It’s not right. It’s not fair. Won’t you change your mind and come to live with us?”

  “You are very sweet, Louisa, but I have no wish to be the spinster sister with your mother-in-law making it her mission to find me a suitable husband.” I smiled at her. “I really like my place of employment, and I’m doing very well. I’ve been promoted to assistant pastry chef.”

  “Oh, so it must be a very large kitchen if there is a chef just for pastry, and an assistant, too. We only have one cook and one scullery maid here.”

  “It is. Very large.”

  “Ah, so it must be a hotel or restaurant.” Her face lit up. “I was worried before that it was something not quite proper.”

  “Very proper, I assure you. I’m just not allowed to tell you. Company rules.”

  “I see.” She looked happier now. “I’m glad you are in a good position, although I wish you did not have to earn a living.”

  “But I enjoy it,” I said. “I’m becoming quite skilled.”

  “And you will meet someone soon, I’m sure,” she said. “Someone who will make you as happy as Billy is making me.”

  “I hope so.” We sat there, our hands still clasped together.

  Christmas approached. The queen and her retinue departed. We stood lined up in the foyer to give her a proper send-off. She hobbled past on the arm of her Indian munshi, using her stick to walk with, but nodding to us. When she spotted me, I saw recognition in her eyes, and she gave me a little smile. Then she was
helped into the carriage, more like lifted and bundled, actually, and off they went. Mr Angelo wished all of us a merry Christmas and said that the wine steward had been instructed to open a bottle of claret and a bottle of port for our celebrations. He departed, too, along with other senior cooks, leaving Mr Francis in charge and the two ladies and we juniors to hold the fort.

  It was a pleasant few days. Meals consisted of big soups and stews followed by suet puddings that were easily made and easily cleared up. On Christmas Eve it snowed, and we went out into the grounds for a snowball fight. Even Mrs Simms joined in, shrieking when a snowball hit her, although Mrs Gillespie clearly disapproved. She was a strange woman, polite enough but quite reserved and never really friendly. That evening one of the apprentices brought in a Christmas tree, and we decorated it with candles, glass balls and paper chains. Then we sat around the tree singing carols.

  I was just making my way up to bed when I heard someone calling, “Helen.” I turned to see Nelson behind me in the hallway. “I just wanted to say Happy Christmas,” he said. “I’ll be taking off early tomorrow to go home for the day, and spend it with my old mum and the family. But I didn’t want to go without giving you this. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of the others,” he said. “They might get ideas.” And he handed me a little box. “It’s not much,” he said, “but I wanted to give you a token.”

  I opened it, praying that it wasn’t jewellery, especially not a ring. Inside was a lavender sachet, prettily embroidered with flowers.

  “I had my sister make it for you,” he said. “She does embroidery for a seamstress.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I felt embarrassed because I hadn’t bought anything for him. He must have realized this.

  “No, don’t say it.” He held up his hand. “It’s the done thing that a young man should shower his special girl with gifts, never the other way around.”

  “It is very sweet of you, Nelson, and I really appreciate it,” I said. We stood alone in that hallway, rather close to each other.

  “I should take this up to my room and put it away safely.”

  “Before you go,” he said and put a hand on my arm to restrain me. “You should look up.”

  I did, wondering what he was talking about. We were standing in the spartan hallway, which had no adornment of any kind.

  “Well, what a surprise,” he said. “Mistletoe. I wonder who put that up there.”

  A sprig of mistletoe was hanging from the overhead electric light. Before I knew it, he had taken me into his arms and was kissing me. I didn’t struggle or try to push him away. I let him kiss me. When we broke apart, he was beaming at me.

  “Best Christmas ever,” he said. “I’ll remember this for a long time.”

  I went on up to bed, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Should I have stopped him? Had I now given him too much encouragement? For a first kiss, it had been gentle, not at all alarming, but wasn’t I supposed to have felt something? In truth all I was aware of was his slightly cold lips pressing against mine. Not unpleasant, but certainly not the divine sensation written about in romance novels. I lay in bed, listening to the wind rattling the window panes, trying to come to terms with what had happened. I had known he was keen on me, but this had taken it one step beyond friendship. The trouble was that I wanted more. I wanted to fall in love, to feel my heart skip a beat every time he looked at me, to live happily ever after. And I couldn’t picture a life ahead with Nelson and his old mum and noisy siblings in the house behind the gasworks. In spite of everything that had happened to me, I suppose I hadn’t learned to discard my aristocratic roots. Maybe I’d have to someday.

  I fell asleep eventually and awoke to the distant sound of church bells. “Christmas Day,” I muttered, and thought of Christmas Days in the past, when Mama was still alive. A stocking beside my bed with an orange, a chocolate mousse, maybe a book and a new pair of gloves. Never anything extravagant, but exciting just the same. For the past few years, Christmas Day had meant up at dawn to light fires, and later a rush to get the stuffing made and the turkey into the oven. At least there wouldn’t be too much work for us today. And at least I had a present to unwrap as well as one already given.

  I had bought a diary with a lock and key for Louisa and sent it off in good time before she departed for the country. A parcel had arrived from her, but I waited until Christmas morning to open it. First we had to attend church service in the palace chapel, but then we came back to a big breakfast with sausages, eggs and bacon. The birds were stuffed and went into the ovens. After that we gathered around the tree. Everyone received a little gift from Her Majesty. It was a royal medal with her likeness on it. And also a gift from Mr Angelo. This one was more practical and was a new handkerchief for each of us. Finally, I opened Louisa’s gift. It was a pretty necklace of amethyst beads, a warm scarf and a golden guinea. I felt tears coming to my eyes. It had been years since anyone had bought me anything nice or special. I found myself feeling guilty. I had judged her so harshly for wanting to marry when I had funded her education, and for not seeming to appreciate my sacrifice. Now I saw that she did care for me.

  The Christmas feast started at one o’clock. We joined the other members of the household staff in the servants’ dining hall. The tables were laid with white cloths and decorated with holly and ivy. There were crackers beside each plate. Two turkeys and four geese were carried in, their skins nicely browned and glistening. Mr Francis and Arthur carved for us while tureens of roast potatoes, chestnut stuffing, sage and onion stuffing, bread sauce, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower with a white sauce, cabbage and gravy were passed around. Claret was poured. We pulled our crackers, put on paper hats, read the silly mottos and riddles and demonstrated our toys and puzzles. Then we said grace and ate until we couldn’t stuff in another bite.

  There was a blast on a bugle, and the Christmas puddings were carried in, flaming with brandy and with a sprig of holly stuck in them. I had helped to make these on Stir-up Sunday back in November, and most of them had been sent with the cooks to Osborne House. But there were plenty for us, served with the custard and brandy butter I had prepared. There were even several silver threepenny pieces inside, and I was lucky enough to get one of them.

  “Make a wish,” the parlour maid sitting opposite me instructed. I wasn’t quite sure what to wish for.

  “Let the new year be favourable for me,” I whispered to myself. “No unpleasant surprises, please.”

  After that mammoth meal, you might not have thought that anyone would want to eat again for weeks, however, we served tea, a little later than usual. Mr Roland had insisted on making the Christmas cakes for this tea. Ours was indeed a work of art. It had sat on the shelf resplendent in royal icing and waiting for the china figures to complete the snow scene. Now it was decorated with sledding figures, snowmen and children throwing snowballs.

  After tea we sat around the fire, too full of food to do much. We played some party games—the Minister’s Cat and charades. Later, for supper, we put out plates of cold turkey and goose, pickles and bread, but I couldn’t face any. Nelson had said that it was his best Christmas ever. All I could think was that it was the nicest Christmas I had spent in years.

  CHAPTER 11

  The new year dawned, a year that promised the great excitement of the diamond jubilee—sixty years on the throne for our queen. But it didn’t start with great jubilation. The queen returned from Osborne House suffering from a horrible cold and in a foul mood. We were instructed to make all kinds of medicinal broths, as well as the standard calf’s foot jelly. Her Majesty sent most of them back, declaring them to be disgusting and useless. There was no entertaining, and we under-cooks spent our time practicing new and complicated dishes from the library of cookery books, only to have to send them to the ladies and gentlemen of the household or eat them ourselves. It was murmured around the palace that the queen’s health was deteriorating and she might not even survive to celebrate in the summer.

/>   “Don’t you believe it,” Nelson whispered to me. “She’s a tough old bird, and stubborn, too. She’ll hang on just to make sure she rides in that coach down the Mall.”

  To my relief, Nelson and I had settled back into our comfortable relationship. It had snowed heavily just after Christmas, and walking outside was treacherous, so we had not ventured out much. I had heard from Louisa that her Christmas in the country had been excessively dull and that Billy’s grandfather drank far too much, but I hadn’t had a chance to visit her in person to hear the details. However, I was secretly glad I had not been able to attend. Cooped up in the snow with Billy’s relatives would have indeed been a penance.

  I did not have a chance to visit Louisa until the end of January. I went to the big house in Highgate on my afternoon off and thought that there was something strange about Louisa. Something different. Then it dawned on me.

  “Are you pregnant?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not that I know of. No, there is something else that I have to tell you. Something I’m not quite sure about.” She paused, twisting the long strand of jet beads she wore around her neck. Then she blurted out, “Billy wants us to move to Australia.”

  I certainly hadn’t expected that news. “Australia? Isn’t that where they send convicts? Whatever for?”

  “These days it’s a prosperous part of the empire,” she said. “Lots of good land, and they are dying for people to go and settle it. Billy’s father has told him he’ll set him up with all he needs to start a sheep or cattle farm. He can get thousands of acres. And we can export the sheep and the wool to England. We have a chance to be really rich, Bella. We’ll be somebodies. And in Australia they don’t care if your father was a butcher or a chimney sweep.”