A Mother's Grace

by Rosie Goodwin

  As Mrs Batley’s lips tightened, he went on, ‘And the food bill. I’m sure you could save on that. Tea and sugar are extravagances, I think we could halve the weekly bill.’

  Mrs Batley was beginning to bubble with rage. The late Mr Kettle had never questioned her like this. On the contrary, he had always praised her for keeping such a good table and had trusted her implicitly.

  ‘The butcher’s bill,’ he went on. ‘We can manage perfectly well on cheaper cuts. A good cook should be capable of making tasty meals out of scrag ends and we can certainly cut down on the breakfast menu. There was an awful lot returned to the kitchen this morning, I noticed.’ She had served him thick, crispy rashers of back bacon, juicy sausages and sizzling kidneys, which had been slow cooked in butter, as well as devilled eggs, toast and a pot of home-made marmalade.

  Mrs Batley contained her anger with an effort. The food that wasn’t eaten by the master had always fed herself and Mabel, then Mabel usually delivered what was left to her mother who was always glad of anything. They were feeding Harry too now and she wondered what they were supposed to dine on if she was only allowed to cook enough for the master and mistress. Not that, going by this morning, Mrs Kettle ate much, bless her. Mrs Batley supposed it was because she was having a baby. But did this arrogant man think that servants could exist on fresh air?

  He went on to suggest other places where she might make savings before adding, ‘And Mr Grimes. From now on, when he is not attending to my horses or chauffeuring me about, he will attend to the gardens and do any jobs that need doing about the house. I am sure we will find enough to keep him fully occupied and that will do away with the need to employ tradesmen. Idle hands make work for the devil is the saying and I don’t believe in squandering hard-earned money.’ He slammed the ledger shut and handed it to Mrs Batley. ‘That will be all for now. Go about your business.’

  ‘Just one thing, judge.’ Mrs Batley forced herself to stay calm. ‘I can’t help but notice that your wife is very close to her time … for givin’ birth, I mean, an’ I was wonderin’ if yer’d like me to speak to the doctor an’ the midwife for her to have ’em on standby?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Batley. The midwife perhaps, but I see no need to waste money on a doctor’s fee unless it is absolutely necessary. My wife is young and healthy so I foresee no complications.’

  ‘But what if there are? Your wife is very dainty.’

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. And now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to get the rest of my uncle’s affairs in order before I go into town to look at my new business. I shall only require a light lunch before I go out and then dinner will be served promptly each evening at six p.m.’

  ‘Yes, judge.’ Gripping the ledger so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Mrs Batley turned and almost flounced from the room. She hadn’t expected the judge to be as kind a master as the late Mr Kettle but it appeared that he was going to be even harder to work for than she had feared.

  When she got back to the kitchen she relayed to Mabel what the judge had said. Mabel chewed her lip nervously.

  ‘You don’t think he’ll dismiss me, do yer, Batty? With him tryin’ to cut down on household costs, I mean. He might decide that I’m not needed.’

  ‘Huh! I’d soon tell him if he tried,’ Mrs Batley responded heatedly but the conversation was stopped from going any further when Harry Grimes popped his head round the kitchen door, letting in a blast of icy air.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you but you did say to come in at eleven o’clock for a tea break.’

  Mabel flushed prettily as Mrs Batley glanced at the kitchen clock and started. ‘Goodness, I hadn’t realised it were that time already. Come on in, lad, an’ you, Mabel, get the trays ready fer the master an’ mistress. We don’t want to give him anythin’ else to moan about.’

  Fifteen minutes later, when the trays had been delivered, the three of them sat down to snatch a cup of tea for themselves.

  ‘This is one o’ the things he told me we’ve to cut down on,’ Mrs Batley grumbled as she spooned sugar into three cups.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind doing without sugar,’ Mabel piped up.

  Mrs Batley shook her head. ‘You’ll do no such thing, me girl. We work hard an’ the way I see it we’s entitled to a cuppa when we feel like it.’ She glanced at Harry and asked tentatively, ‘Is the judge always this difficult?’

  He flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘I, er … yes, I suppose he is.’

  ‘So why did you leave Leeds an’ your family to come here wi’ him then?’ Mrs Batley was curious.

  ‘I don’t have a family,’ Harry confessed. ‘Me ma died some years ago an’ I never knew me dad. I was the eldest an’ the young ones were all taken into the workhouse. They would have taken me too but I managed to avoid it and after that I lived on the streets any way I could. I got rickets then, which is why me legs are as they are an’ things got harder.’

  Mrs Batley clucked her tongue sympathetically. In the squalid courts around Abbey Street where Mabel had been raised, rickets was rife, caused by poor diet, and now she understood why Harry’s legs were so deformed.

  Harry went on, ‘The master found me in a shop doorway one day an’ offered me a job working in his stables. That was about two years ago, and I’ve been with him ever since.’

  Mrs Batley would have liked to think that the judge had done this out of the kindness of his heart but already she guessed that he would have probably worked poor Harry almost into the ground. His next words confirmed it.

  ‘He can be a bit harsh … very harsh, really, an’ he’s whipped me on more than one occasion if I haven’t done something exactly as he told me to but at least I ain’t on the streets anymore. Anythin’ is better than havin’ to go back to that. And the mistress is kind … when he ain’t about, that is.’

  ‘Is she afraid of him then?’ Mabel asked, appalled.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure to be honest. I’ve never known him to raise his hand to her, but I don’t think he lets her ever forget that he rescued her when her father left her penniless, poor thing. I know she has an aunt who offered to take her in at the time, she lives somewhere in Wales, but I think the mistress was too proud to take her up on her offer.’

  He clammed up then, no doubt worried that he’d already said too much and Mabel and Mrs Batley wisely didn’t push him for any more information.

  After his light lunch, the judge left for the town in his smart carriage and Mabel and Mrs Batley breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Phew, he ain’t even been here fer a whole day yet an’ already I’m glad to see the back o’ him,’ Mrs Batley remarked, then she started when she glanced up to see the young mistress standing in the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, missus,’ she muttered, red-faced, but Mrs Kettle merely smiled.

  ‘I was wondering, would one of you have time to show me where the nursery is located? I don’t wish to disturb your work.’

  ‘I’ll take you up there,’ Mrs Batley offered. ‘You carry on preparin’ them vegetables for dinner would yer, pet?’

  Mabel nodded and Mrs Batley led her new mistress towards the staircase. ‘The nursery is right up on the top floor,’ she wheezed as she puffed her way up the stairs, her plump face red with exertion. ‘It’s never been used, more’s the pity, so it’ll need a good airin’. In fact, it might possibly need redecoratin’ after all these years.’

  At last she flung open a door and the mistress stepped past her into the room. Mrs Batley hurried forward and began to whisk the dustsheets off the furniture. She secretly hated this floor, for it always brought back sad memories of her former mistress who had chosen every stick of furniture up there with such loving care for the children that had never come along.

  ‘Oh, that’s quite beautiful,’ Mrs Kettle exclaimed as a wooden swinging crib was revealed.

  ‘The moths have got into the little blankets,’ Mrs Batley said reg
retfully as she stroked them and they crumbled to dust. ‘But the crib is still in fine condition by the looks of it. Just as soon as we have any spare time me an’ Mabel will come up here an’ give the whole place a good scrub fer you. There’s a small bedroom next door for a nanny an’ the other door leads to what was to be the schoolroom.’

  ‘How sad that it was never needed,’ Mrs Kettle said softly, her voice heavy with tears as she thought of the heartache Jacob’s aunt must have suffered. Her hand then fell protectively to her swollen stomach. Hopefully this little one would breathe life into the empty rooms.

  ‘I could come up and help you, Mrs Batley,’ she offered, but the older woman shook her head vigorously.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing so close to your time … beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. No offence intended.’

  Mrs Kettle smiled and her whole face was transformed. ‘None taken.’

  Mrs Batley cleared her throat then before asking, ‘Do yer mind me enquirin’ when the baby’s due, ma’am? Only I were sayin’ to yer husband earlier that we should be preparin’ the midwife to be on standby.’

  ‘Early in the New Year.’ The woman smiled. ‘But I won’t be needing a nanny. I shall be looking after the baby myself and would prefer to have it in my room with me for the first few months.’

  Mrs Batley made no comment although she still found it strange that a married couple should wish to sleep apart after the birth of their baby. She had supposed that the judge had taken his own room so that his wife could rest but it appeared that this wasn’t the case, not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself silently.

  ‘Perhaps I could get young Harry up here to give the place a coat of limewash for when the baby does move upstairs?’ she suggested tactfully, and Mrs Kettle nodded in agreement.

  ‘It would certainly brighten the place up,’ she agreed. ‘Meantime, a little closer to my time, perhaps we could have the crib carried down into my bedroom?’

  ‘That would be no trouble at all. Me an’ Mabel could do that. Have you got together any baby things yet? Blankets and nightdresses and such?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve made most of them myself. My mother taught me to sew, she was a very fine needlewoman.’ Mrs Kettle’s face clouded. ‘I wish that she and my father were still alive to meet their first grandchild but my mother died when I was twelve. Father was never quite the same after that but we were very close. He was such a kind, gentle man.’

  Mrs Batley squeezed her arm sympathetically, feeling the young woman’s pain.

  ‘My father was a vicar,’ Mrs Kettle said and Mrs Batley’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She’d had no idea.

  ‘He had his own parish in Leeds. We lived in a lovely old vicarage attached to the church but I’m afraid he was rather too generous to people in need for his own good, which is why I found myself almost penniless when he passed away. And by the way, my first name is Madeline. It was my grandmother’s name and I’m quite happy for you to address me as such.’

  ‘Why, that’s a lovely name but I fear the judge wouldn’t think it seemly,’ Mrs Batley pointed out.

  The young woman seemed to think on her words for a moment then slowly nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Jacob is quite strict about such things. But maybe sometimes when we’re alone we need not be quite so formal?’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Mrs Batley patted her hand. ‘But now I really ought to be getting back to work. I don’t want to end up in the master’s bad books on his first full day here.’

  ‘Oh, of course. How thoughtless of me. I’ll come down with you.’

  Mrs Batley smiled to herself. The young mistress was a lovely person and soon there would be a baby in the house.

  Chapter Four

  A week later, Mrs Batley was once again summoned to the master’s office to present the household accounts.

  ‘Hmm …’ He ran his finger down the page of the week’s expenses. ‘I see you have managed to save a few pence on the coal bill by following my orders, although the food bill doesn’t look to be much improved.’ When he stared up at her she felt as if his cold eyes were boring right through her.

  Mrs Batley straightened her back, ashamed to find that her hands were trembling slightly. ‘I’ve changed the menus so that for three days a week we have fish instead of meat and that’s saved a bit,’ she objected defensively. ‘But it’s hard to cut down on certain other things. Vegetables tend to be expensive at this time of year, and so is tea, even though Mabel goes to market and looks for the best prices she can.’

  His eyebrows drew together as he continued to examine the accounts. It was clear that he intended to see that every single penny was accounted for.

  At last he opened a drawer and carefully counted out a sum of money. ‘That is the housekeeping allowance for next week,’ he told her and she saw at a glance that it was vastly reduced. Right, she thought angrily. She’d certainly make cuts, starting with his wine bill, and see if he was still so keen to keep her short of funds this time next week. His wife would never be so mean, she was sure of it. Only that day she had commented that Mrs Kettle’s clothes looked dangerously tight on her and suggested that she should approach her husband to ask him for some new ones, but the young woman had shaken her head and flown into a panic.

  ‘Oh no, there’ll be no need for that,’ Madeline had gabbled. ‘I’m sure I can let the ones I have out just a little more, then I can take them all in again once the baby is born.’

  Mrs Batley had stared at the tight, plain bombazine gown her mistress was wearing and sighed. Madeline Kettle would never be classed as a beauty, admittedly, but with her striking hair and lovely eyes, Mrs Batley was sure she could be very attractive were she able to dress in more fashionable clothes. The judge, on the other hand, was always immaculately dressed in fine waistcoats and smart suits.

  Now she simply took the money, dropped it into the pocket of her apron and strode from the room. He wanted cuts? Well, she would make sure he got them.

  That evening, as Mabel was about to go up to light the fires in the master and mistress’s bedrooms, Mrs Batley told her, ‘Don’t light the fire in the judge’s room, pet. He wants us to cut down on household expenses.’

  The judge had gone out in his carriage over an hour before, and goodness knew what time he would roll in. Already they had discovered that he went out in the evenings a great deal, often not returning till long after they were in bed. A couple of times Mrs Batley had tentatively questioned Harry about where the master went but each time Harry had closed up like a clam.

  ‘But, Mrs Batley, it will be freezing up there!’ Mabel looked concerned but Mrs Batley merely grinned and went back to her knitting. She’d bought some wool from a shop in town and was making a little matinee coat for the new arrival.

  ‘Let me worry about that if he complains,’ she answered complacently. ‘You just go and see as the mistress’s room is nice and warm for her.’

  The next morning when Mabel placed the serving dishes on the sideboard at breakfast, the judge stared down at the measly few rashers of bacon and two eggs and asked, ‘Where are the sausages?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, judge. Mrs Batley just asked me to bring it through.’ Mabel gulped nervously as the colour rose in his cheeks.

  ‘Send her in to me immediately,’ he roared and Mabel scuttled away so quickly she almost tripped over her skirts.

  ‘Batty, the master wants to see yer this instant,’ Mabel gasped as she burst into the kitchen. ‘An’ I should warn yer, he ain’t in the best o’ moods.’

  Mrs Batley wiped her hands on a length of huckaback and headed towards the door. She’d been expecting this and was ready for him. Deep down she had come to fear him almost as much as Mabel did but she would have died rather than admit it to anyone.

  She found Mrs Kettle seated at the dining room table with her head bowed while her husband stood with his hands clasped behind his back rocking backwards and forwards on his heels.

  ‘Yes, judge, yer wished to see me?�
��

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he spluttered. ‘How is a man supposed to do an honest day’s work on such a meagre meal?’ He had now taken up his role as a judge in the law courts in Coventry where he went each day on the steam train from Trent Valley railway station.

  ‘But, sir, I was just doin’ what you told me an’ cuttin’ back,’ Mrs Batley replied innocently. Despite her calm countenance, her heart was thumping painfully. She was sure, just for a moment, that she saw a shadow of a grin flit across his wife’s face.

  ‘Cutting back! Go to the kitchen and get me a proper meal, woman,’ he ordered through clenched teeth.

  Mrs Batley calmly shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. I cut sausages off the shoppin’ list, see?’

  He seemed to swell to twice his size but then, controlling himself with an effort, he told her, ‘I don’t have time to wait about for you to cook anything else anyway or I shall be late for my train but see that you do better in the morning! And by the way, my room was freezing when I went up to bed last night. The maid clearly forgot to light the fire.’

  ‘I told her not to,’ she told him boldly. ‘After all, yer did reduce the housekeepin’ money an’ I have to make cuts somewhere. I thought yer’d approve.’ And she strutted away with a sweet smile on her face.

  Entering the kitchen, she blew out a breath and said shakily, ‘I’ll show the bugger, you just see if I don’t! I wouldn’t dream o’ walkin’ into his court an’ tellin’ him how to do his job an’ I’ll be blowed if I’ll let him come in here tellin’ me how to do mine!’ She felt as if she and Judge Kettle were engaged in a battle of wills.

  Mabel was sitting at the kitchen table with Harry enjoying a cup of tea and they grinned at each other as Mrs Batley went to pour one for herself.