Emily (16 page)

Emily flushed and didn’t say that she had already released the seams on her skirt. She was aware of the thickening around her waist and the fullness of her breasts, and of the lethargy which stole over her from time to time and she was very worried. She looked at herself in the hall mirror when no-one else was about, turning this way and that, trying to detect by her shape, whether or not her worries were real or imaginary.

She had had a bout of sickness for a few weeks,
but then so had the kitchen staff and they had blamed it on some tainted meat. The weather had been warm throughout the spring and food had gone off much more quickly than was usual, and now at the beginning of summer the weather was even hotter and stickier, and it seemed that there was no air circulating in the narrow streets of the town, which were always crowded with people.

‘Call for a cab,’ Mrs Purnell said when her dressing was complete. ‘You can ride with me to Mrs Marshall’s and then walk back. I won’t need you any more until this evening, so you might as well be useful here as wait around chatting to the Marshall servants.’

Which was a pity, thought Emily, for I would like to see Ginny and have a talk to her. She had no confidantes here at Mrs Purnell’s house and she felt as if she needed a friend.

But Ginny was just about to go on an errand for Mrs Marshall when they arrived, and so she waited for Emily to settle her mistress and take instructions on what time to come back for her. ‘Mrs Marshall is going to Scarborough in July,’ she said as they stepped out together. ‘I expect she’ll be asking Mrs Purnell to go with her again.’

‘Will you be going, Ginny?’ Emily asked. ‘I hope Mrs Purnell takes me. I’d love to breathe in some sea air. It’s so hot and smelly here.’

Ginny agreed. The stench of the whale blubber and seed oil hung over the town. It clung to curtains and fabric and no-one could open windows or doors for fear of letting the odour into their houses. ‘Mrs Marshall might take her
housekeeper and one of the other maids this time. She gives everyone a turn.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘We are supposed to think of it as a privilege and a holiday.’

It was like a holiday for me, Emily thought, though I have never been on one to know. But it was the best time of my life. She smiled as she reminisced over dancing with Philip Linton at the Spa and the soft words that he had whispered.

They walked briskly from Albion Street, where Mrs Marshall lived, and as they crossed over the Junction Bridge towards Whitefriargate, avoiding the crush of wagons and carts which were being driven towards the Market Place, Emily suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. ‘I’m sorry, Ginny, I’ll have to stop. I don’t feel well.’ She leant against a bollard and bent over. ‘You go on.’

‘No, I’ll wait.’ Ginny looked down anxiously. ‘What’s made you sick? Is it the stink? You should be used to it by now.’

‘I don’t know. Probably. No. It’s not.’ She looked at Ginny apprehensively.

‘You’ve been caught! You’re expecting!’ Ginny’s eyes flickered over her face. ‘I didn’t know you was courtin’.’

Emily shook her head and wiped the corner of her mouth with a square of hemmed cotton. ‘I’m not,’ she whispered.

Ginny stared at her, her face expressionless. ‘You’ve been raped! Who by?’

‘Hugo Purnell.’ She could hardly bring herself to say his name.

‘God rot him,’ Ginny hissed. ‘You know he’ll
deny it. You’ll be given notice just like ’other lass.’

‘Which other lass?’ Emily stared back at her. ‘At Mrs Purnell’s?’ A vague memory stirred of Mrs Purnell telling her that the previous maid had to leave because she was in trouble.

‘Ask Mrs Anderson.’ Ginny put her arm about her. ‘She knows.’

‘I daren’t,’ Emily stammered. ‘I’m afraid of telling her what’s happened. If I’m given notice, what will I do? Where will I go? Who’ll employ me?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘No-one will employ you without a reference and especially not if you’re pregnant. When did it happen?’

‘In February,’ she whispered. ‘His wedding night.’

‘Scum,’ Ginny muttered between her teeth. ‘Viper! But it’s too late to do anything. This is a pretty pickle, Emily, and no mistake.’

Mrs Purnell joined Mrs Marshall in Scarborough for a month and took Emily with her, but somehow the resort had lost its charm. There was no Ginny to talk to because she had stayed behind in Hull, as she had suggested she might, and all Emily was required to do was accompany the two ladies when they took the air along the Esplanade, or carry their parcels home from their frequent shopping trips. Even the carriage drive up Oliver’s Mount, the finest terrace in England from where could be seen the surrounding views of the ocean, castle and the hills of the Wolds, failed to delight her as it had done the previous year.

She avoided going near the pier in case she should meet Ben Thompson. She was in no mood
for pleasantries or protestations of affection, and when out alone she walked swiftly with her eyes to the ground to avoid the glances of ardent young men.

‘’Sea air has done you good, Emily,’ Mrs Anderson remarked when they returned to Hull. ‘You were looking very peaky before you went away.’

‘I feel much better, Mrs Anderson.’ In truth Emily did feel much better in health. The lethargy had left her, as had the sickness, but inwardly she was very troubled and finally she decided that she would have to confide in Mrs Anderson when she announced that Mr Hugo and his wife would be returning from abroad in October.

‘’Mistress isn’t too pleased about it,’ said the housekeeper grimly. ‘She hasn’t said as much of course, but I can tell. I know her well enough to know when she’s displeased. She’s not looking forward to having ’young mistress back with her tantrums and sulks.’

‘You don’t look too happy about it either, Emily.’ Cook must have noticed her pallor at the news. ‘You’ll be ’butt of her nonsense again, I expect.’

‘She can’t help it.’ In spite of her fears, Emily rose to her young mistress’s defence. ‘It’s not her fault. She has to be treated gently and kindly. It’s when she gets excited that she becomes –’.

‘Deranged!’ Dolly hooted. ‘She’s definitely got a screw loose.’

‘That’s unkind,’ Emily said hotly, ‘and not respectful.’

‘That’s enough, Dolly.’ Mrs Anderson was sharp.
‘Now get about your work, and you come with me, Emily.’

‘So tell me what’s troubling you.’ She had pointed up the stairs and followed Emily to her room, where they couldn’t be overheard. ‘If it’s not ’young mistress returning home, then what is it?’ She stared hard at her and Emily knew that the housekeeper had probably guessed the truth.

‘It’s Mr Hugo,’ she whispered and hung her head. ‘I’m afraid of him.’

‘Has he seduced you?’ The housekeeper was terse, her questions sharp. ‘Or have you been willing?’

‘He did. But I never gave him any reason to think –’. She swallowed and whispered, shocked to think Mrs Anderson would doubt her. ‘It was after the party on ’night of his wedding. He’d been drinking and he forced his way into my room.’ She started to sob as she relived the horrors. ‘His mother was sleeping in ’next room. I think he’d given her a sleeping draught. He was horrible. Horrible! Then – then, the next morning he came back again.’ She broke into uncontrollable sobbing. ‘When we came back here I kept my door locked, just like you said I should, but he was always up here, trying the door.’

She blew her nose hard, but still the tears fell as she said, ‘He’s got me pregnant, Mrs Anderson. He’s taken away my virtue. I’m worthless! I was always a good lass, honest to God I was. But now I’m nothing.’

Mrs Anderson sank down on Emily’s bed. Above her on the wall was the tract of the Servant Girl’s
Prayer. ‘Scum of the earth,’ she muttered.

‘No! No!’ Emily protested. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘Not you, girl. Him! Our master whose desires we must obey. Well, you’ve obeyed his desires all right and look where it’s got you.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘You know that he’ll deny it? He’ll say that he’s never touched you or else that you led him on.’

‘It’s not true.’ Emily vehemently shook her head. ‘I swear that it’s not!’

But Mrs Anderson didn’t seem to be listening. ‘He might give you some money to keep you quiet, of course, especially now he’s got a young wife,’ she murmured. ‘It won’t take folks long to add up two and two to know when it happened.’

‘You do believe me, then?’ Emily felt a small measure of relief.

‘Oh aye. It’s not ’first time.’ Mrs Anderson glanced around the small room. ‘’Other maid that got caught was my niece Jenny in this very room. Onny she was more than willing, young strumpet! She thought he’d look after her, like he said.’ She gave a coarse laugh. ‘He looked after her all right! Gave her some money, which she spent on fancy clothes and gin, and now she’s next door, her and her bairn.’

‘Next door?’ Emily was puzzled. An elderly gentleman lived next door with his housekeeper and valet. ‘As a maid?’

‘In ’workhouse,’ Mrs Anderson answered grimly, ‘where you’ll probably end up.’

They agreed that nothing would be said to Mrs Purnell just yet, or to the other servants, and
hoped that they wouldn’t notice Emily’s increasing plumpness, which in the current fashion was regarded as very desirous. She looked well, a fine bloom touched her fair skin, and her blond hair shone when she let it down to brush it. Mrs Anderson took care to let her off arduous tasks and Emily found that the housekeeper’s previous sharp manner hid a solicitude which had not formerly been apparent.

‘They’ll be home at the end of ’week during October,’ Mrs Anderson announced. ‘’Mistress has had a letter. Get a fire lit in both bedrooms, Dolly, and Emily you’d better order some extra flowers from ’florist to put in Miss Deborah’s room. Off you go,’ she said meaningfully. ‘Go now.’

Emily thankfully put on her cloak and went out. Mrs Anderson must have guessed that she would be upset by the sudden news and would need time to prepare herself. She glanced at the workhouse gate as she passed and shivered. She had seen many of the inmates coming out from within its gloomy walls. They all looked thin and ill, with scabby faces and shabby clothes, and she wanted to weep as she thought that same fate might await her.

I shall have a child to look after. A child I don’t want. That I never asked for. I never expected this. She thought of her friend Jane, pregnant by Brown and wondered if they were married yet. She has her mother to help her, and her sisters. They’ll be poor, but the child will be loved and cared for. I have no-one.

Her tears were still falling as she entered the
florist’s shop. She had been in here only occasionally, as a regular order was sent to Mrs Purnell’s every week. An assistant took the extra order and through the back of the shop Emily saw an older woman, who looked up from her desk and gazed at her, and whom she guessed was the owner. The perfume of the flowers drifted over her, the heavy perfume of roses, lilies and exotic flowers brought in from abroad and lingering beneath that the homely cottage-garden scent of sweet lavender and rosemary. She wiped away tears, which came so readily these days.

‘Does the scent upset you?’ the older woman called to her.

‘Oh no.’ Emily smiled through her tears. ‘Not at all. It reminds me of where I used to live – in ’country. There were so many nice smells there.’

The woman nodded in agreement then bent her head, but glanced up again as Emily took her leave.

‘They’re here. They’re here. Run up and tell ’mistress, Emily. ’Rest of you, tidy yourselves up while I open ’door.’ Mrs Anderson barked out instructions three days later as the front door was hammered on with great force.

‘You don’t need to come and tell me,’ Mrs Purnell said as Emily entered her room. ‘I know well enough who gives orders to break down the door.’ She seemed flustered yet pleased to welcome the return of her son. ‘I do hope everything is going to be all right. Do you think the tour will have been good for my son’s wife, Emily? Her health, you know? You knew her before.’

‘I don’t know, ma’am. I wasn’t at Elmswell for very long and I don’t remember Miss Deborah – Mrs Purnell, ever going away.’

‘Hmm. Well, we’ll have to wait and see, I suppose.’ Mrs Purnell rose from her chair and went to greet her son and his wife and Emily followed behind and joined the line of servants who were waiting in the hall to greet them.

Hugo was tanned and handsome, but Deborah was pale and wan and trailed behind him. Behind her was the maid, perky and dark with a saucy look about her. Hugo bowed and kissed his mother and she then gave Deborah a light kiss on her cheek. He turned to greet the staff. ‘Mrs Anderson.’ He gave a slight nod of his head to the stony faced housekeeper. ‘Cook, Dolly.’ He moved on towards Emily. ‘Emily.’ A smile played around his mouth and she trembled as she dipped her knee. ‘How very well you look, Emily.’ He took Deborah’s hand and drew her towards him. ‘Say hello to Emily, my dear. Doesn’t she look well?’

Deborah stared at Emily, her eyes were dull and her mouth worked, as if she was trying to say something but the words wouldn’t come out.

‘And you have all met Alice.’ Hugo indicated the new maid. ‘Alice has been a treasure, hasn’t she, Debs? Knows exactly how to look after you?’

Alice smirked and then took hold of Deborah’s arm. ‘We’d better go up for a rest, ma’am. It’s been a long journey.’ She turned to Emily standing at the end of the line. ‘Send up some broth and a little bread for Mrs Purnell, she needs to take some refreshment before her medication,’ and
she propelled her mistress up the stairs.

Hugo smiled. ‘A treasure,’ he repeated and escorted his mother to the drawing room. ‘You wouldn’t believe the difference Alice has made to Deborah.’

Mrs Purnell frowned. ‘She looks a little flighty to me. And medication? What medication is Deborah taking?’

Hugo stretched himself out on a sofa and yawned. ‘I found a fantastic doctor in Florence. Deborah had been making a fuss as usual, getting quite hysterical over nothing, and I spoke to one or two people about it and this fellow was recommended. He gave Deborah a few drops of his magical potion and it worked; mark you, she wouldn’t take it at first, she had to be held down. But now she’s as meek as a lamb. No trouble at all.’