Together for Christmas (8 page)

‘That one was taken three years ago, just after I started,’ said a small, squeaky voice behind Flora. Gracie put a cup of tea on the table. ‘I was just eleven.’

‘So you’re only fourteen now?’

Gracie nodded. ‘Mr Leighton didn’t want me in it, but Mr Flowers slipped me in when ’e wasn’t looking.’

‘Who’s Mr Flowers?’ Flora asked curiously.

‘That’s ’im there.’ Gracie pointed to a tall young man with a pleasant, friendly expression. ‘’E was ’ead footman. Everso nice ’e was. But
’e volunteered. Same as . . .’ She drew her rough red finger along the row of men. ‘. . . Mr Sherwood who was the chauffeur and Mr Frith – ’im there, with the
moustache and gun, the gamekeeper. They all went to war in the ’eat of the moment, thinking they’d be back by Christmas last year.’ Gracie hesitated, gesturing to the footman
Flora had seen in the kitchen. ‘Lucas took Mr Flowers’ place. Reckons ’e’s got a bad back and couldn’t do any marchin’. James and John, these two, are brothers
and footmen. Chosen special by Lady Bertha, as they’re tall and good-looking. And there’s Maxwell, of course, Lord Guy’s valet. Says he’s got dropped arches and flat feet
and wouldn’t be no good at marchin’. Then there’s Turner, see, but ’e’s too old to volunteer, and Lord William couldn’t do without ’is valet. Dunno
what’ll happen if the government takes all our young men. That’s why Mrs Burns wanted your ’Ilda. In case we’re caught short.’

‘And the women will do all the men’s jobs?’ Flora asked.

‘We’ll all muck in. Mr Leighton has taken on girls from the village.’ Gracie scuffed the back of her hand across her nose. ‘But they ain’t very respectful, not like
us wot live ’ere.’ Gracie returned her attention to the photograph. ‘This ’ere is Violet, Lady Bertha’s maid. She’s in Italy with the family at their summer
’ouse.’

‘How long has she been Lady Bertha’s maid?’

‘Dunno. Mrs Bell said she started as a housemaid and worked her way up.’

Flora thought of Hilda as she studied Violet, who according to the photograph was a smartly dressed woman in her thirties. She had an air of confidence about her as she stood with her hands
clasped together.

Gracie shuffled along to a large black-framed photograph at the end of the row. ‘’Ere’s Mr Leighton’s pride and joy. The only photograph we’ve got of the earl and
his family. Course, I ain’t ever seen the earl, Lord William. Not with me own eyes. Mrs ’Arris told me something ’appened to ’im to make ’im go a bit barmy after his
wife died. But ’e looks a fine gent in ’is uniform, don’t he? And that’s his sister Lady Bertha and ’er ’usband, Mr James Forsythe.’ Gracie’s dark
eyes, ringed by purple smudges, narrowed as she indicated another young man. Once again, her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘That’s Lord Guy, the earl’s son and heir. ’Andsome,
ain’t ’e? Yer’d never believe the mischief he’s reputed to get up to.’

Again, Flora thought of what Mrs Bell had said. ‘Why isn’t he at war?’ asked Flora curiously.

‘They say ’e’s not right upstairs.’ Gracie tapped her forehead. ‘Something to do with when ’e was born and the cord bein’ round ’is
neck.’

‘That sounds like an old wives’ tale.’

‘Well, his poor mother died pushing him through, didn’t she? Lady Amelia was young and beautiful. She was a great loss to the old lord, who they say never grew close to the child
that killed ’er.’

Just then the door creaked behind them. Flora saw Gracie start.

‘What are you doing here, Gracie?’ the butler demanded.

‘Nothin’, sir, nothin’ at all.’

‘Gracie brought me tea,’ Flora volunteered, aware that Gracie seemed to be shrinking down into her boots. ‘It was a long journey from London.’

Mr Leighton scowled at the scullery maid. ‘You’d better get back to your duties. And for goodness’ sake, don’t drop anything else today.’

Flora saw Gracie scoot off. The butler looked at Flora, then at the photographs on the wall. Squaring his shoulders, he demanded, ‘Is there anything you wish to know?’

Flora blushed. ‘No, nothing, thank you.’

‘In that case, you had better drink your tea. After which, I daresay you’d like to take some fresh air. The kitchen gardens provide adequate shelter from the elements.’

Averting her eyes, Flora returned to her seat. She lifted the cup and sipped from it, aware of the butler’s burning gaze. She realized she had been told to leave.

Mr Leighton swept out of the room. Flora gave a deep sigh of relief. Would Hilda be happy here? Though her best friend complained about her life at Hailing House, Flora thought that things were
likely to be very much harder here at Adelphi Hall.

Hilda was speechless. She was standing inside the entrance hall of the house she had been dreaming about ever since she first saw its picture in the library book. But all her
dreams had been surpassed. The vaulted ceilings above her were higher than the convent’s chapel. A wide, carpeted staircase led up to the interior rooms. She gazed in awe at the mahogany
balustrades, the gilt-framed paintings on the walls, mostly of military men, and the dazzling treasures in their glass cases. Mrs Burns indicated a shield above the entrance doors.

‘The Talbott coat-of-arms,’ she said in a proud voice.

Hilda stared at the shield. On the left was carved a red dragon, breathing fire. On the right, a golden lion curled at the feet of a knight who wore silver armour. Around his lance was plaited
strands of gold and red.

‘As you know, the family are away, except Lord William,’ said Mrs Burns, as they stood on the creamy waxed flagstones. ‘I’m at liberty to show you some of the rooms and
the duties you will be expected to perform in their upkeep. Think yourself lucky. Lowers are not usually given this honour. But since you come with a recommendation from Lady Hailing . .
.’

Hilda blushed. She felt as though she had already been singled out for special attention. Did Mrs Burns see in her something that had always been overlooked at Hailing House? Hilda didn’t
much care for the housekeeper, but what did it matter, when she was soon to be part of all this?

‘Every room in this house has a discreetly placed communicating door to the servants’ stairs. We serve the family twenty-four hours a day, and quite often it is necessary in the
middle of the night. Mr Leighton and the footmen are free to come and go according to their duties. You are not. Maids are never to be seen by the family. You go about your duties when the rooms
are unoccupied. Should you by chance, or mistake, meet your employer, you give way immediately, lowering your eyes, making yourself invisible. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Mrs Burns.’ Hilda thought of the informal practices she had been accustomed to at Hailing House. Lady Hailing always acknowledged her and Aggie, should they meet. She often
asked them how they were and gave them a friendly smile. But, thought Hilda proudly, this was a proper aristocratic mansion and run on quite different lines, the rules of which she was sure she
would soon get used to.

‘Furthermore, there is to be no fraternizing with the opposite sex. No gambling, smoking or abusive language. You are to be punctual, clean and polite. There is no admittance to visitors,
friends or relations without my knowledge and approval as I have already warned you. You will bring your own clothes: two uniform dresses, two working pinafores, a black dress, a white cap and
apron. A cap must be worn at all times, under penalty of dismissal for not doing so. A black bonnet is required for Sunday service.’ Mrs Burns narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at
Hilda’s green hat and feather. ‘No colours are to be attempted. Hair to be drawn back, braided and pinned securely.’

Hilda nodded vigorously. She would do anything to live here in this wonderful house. She would make herself new uniform and a black dress in no time at all. As for the black bonnet and going to
church, Hilda gave a slight shudder. She hadn’t been to Mass since she left the orphanage, except at Christmas with Flora and Mrs Bell and Aggie.

‘Underwear and footwear,’ continued Mrs Burns, glancing down at Hilda’s rather worn brown boots. ‘Lisle stockings, black of course, and boots polished daily, twice if
necessary. Laced stays, cotton vests, petticoats and bloomers.’

Hilda thought that she would have to go to the market to buy herself some of these things. Most of her underclothes were darned to within in an inch of their lives. She had only recently made
one petticoat out of two, since the cotton had frayed so badly. As for her bloomers . . .

The housekeeper drew herself up, her flat chest rising. ‘Now, your wage. As an under housemaid, for the time being, you’ll earn twenty pounds in the year.’

Hilda smiled. Although this was three pounds short of her current wage, Mrs Burns had added those tantalising words, ‘for the time being’. This must mean there was hope she might
become a permanent member of staff. Hilda vowed silently that she would try to keep on the good side of Mrs Burns. Already Hilda could feel the house drawing her in. She imagined herself as Lady
Bertha’s personal maid. She knew it was possible if she really tried.

Mrs Burns was moving on. Hilda hurried to follow. At the top of the staircase, on the first landing, Hilda’s heart leaped. A life-sized painting hung before her of a dark-headed young man,
perhaps the most handsome she had ever seen. He posed for the artist, a gun and a dog at his side. His glimmering dark eyes fixed her. Hilda heard her own gasp. Shod in sturdy brown boots, leather
gaiters and tweed jacket, he looked every inch the huntsman. The matching breeches and knee-length stockings, which Hilda had rarely, if ever, seen before, added to his slightly arrogant stance.
The artist had caught the rich, black texture of his hair, and his aloof, sensual gaze and broad shoulders. Hilda took her breath once more. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

‘Lord Guy Calvey,’ announced Mrs Burns, as though she was addressing an audience. ‘Son of Lord William, the fourth Earl of Talbott.’

All Hilda could do was stare. Lord Guy’s presence seemed to fill the wide landing, the next set of stairs, the spacious, opulent and magnificent rooms around them, indeed the whole of
Adelphi Hall. She had never felt as if a painting was alive before. There was any number of works of art at Hailing House, hung in the private rooms. She dusted their frames every day. But none of
them had an effect on her like this.

‘Come along, there’s no time to waste,’ scolded Mrs Burns, frowning at Hilda’s hesitation. ‘There are the state rooms to visit yet, where we shall examine the
duties you will be expected to perform at six a.m. sharp, before the household wakes. The saloon, the dining, drawing and smoking rooms, and the library.’ She nodded to a room to her left.
Through gold-gilded double doors Hilda could see shelf upon shelf of exquisitely bound books. An ornate black marble clock stood on a slim oblong table, flanked by delicate vases and pottery. The
highly polished floor was covered by a large oriental rug. Hilda had never seen such opulence. ‘And above us, forty bedrooms and Lord William’s suites to be catered for,’ ended
Mrs Burns sharply.

Hilda was trying to concentrate. She found it almost impossible. Her gaze was being drawn back to those dark, bewitching eyes in the painting. They called to her, just like Adelphi Hall had
called to her the moment she had seen it.

Flora jumped. She had fallen asleep on the garden bench. She looked around her. There were dragonflies and damselflies soaring over the water of a lily pond. Its centrepiece
was a mossy urn from which flowed a stream of water. An arbour of pink roses, holly bushes and fruit trees grew by the greenhouses. A gardener and several young boys were working in one, tending
the flowers and vegetables grown under the glass roof. It was a peaceful scene, and Flora thought how much more she was enjoying her visit now that she had left Mr Leighton’s office.

Her thoughts went back to the dark, unwelcoming butler’s quarters. However, she had liked the interesting photographs on the walls. Lord William had looked very distinguished, despite
Gracie’s comments of him being slightly barmy. His thick, dark hair was streaked with grey and he wore his military uniform with pride. His bearing was upright and dignified. Not so his son,
Lord Guy, who stood almost casually in a fashionable tailored suit and offered an impatient, arrogant expression to the camera. A mane of black hair, the ends of which touched his collar,
surrounded his somewhat surly face. What had Gracie meant when she’d whispered those words about mischief? Flora wondered. The likeness between Lady Bertha and her nephew was remarkable. Her
thick black hair was swept up to the back of her head and it was pinned at the side with a jewelled comb; her dark eyes fixed the camera with a disdainful expression. It was clear, Flora thought,
that Lord William’s sister had a taste for expensive silks and the latest style in corsetry! As for her husband, James Forsythe, he was quite the dandy. A foppish looking man, with a long,
thin nose in an equally thin face.

‘Flora, at last, I’ve found you!’ Flora came swiftly back to the present as Hilda rushed up. There were two bright spots of red on her cheeks. She sat down beside Flora and
pulled off her hat. ‘I won’t be wearing this cheap thing any more.’

‘Why not?’ asked Flora.

‘The colour is common. Mrs Burns thought so, I’m sure.’

‘But you’ve only just bought it.’

‘Yes, but at the market where everything is second-hand. I’ll have to smarten meself up a bit.’ Flora listened to Hilda’s breathless account of her interview with Mrs
Burns. ‘My old grey working dress won’t do either. I’ll have to buy quality material and make new dresses. I need underwear and boots too.’

‘But can you afford all this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Hilda said worriedly.

Flora thought of her savings in the china teapot at home. ‘I could help with a pound or two, perhaps.’

‘It won’t be long before I can pay you back.’

‘What did Mrs Burns show you?’

‘I can’t begin to describe the house,’ Hilda replied with a far-away look in her eyes. ‘There were silk-covered walls and beautiful furniture I ain’t ever seen the
likes of before. Sofas as big as boats, mirrors that shone so bright you have to squint to look into them, and the finest silver and porcelain just about everywhere I looked. Mrs Burns showed me
the music room first. It had a great piano in the middle and all the walls, even the ceiling, was painted with scenes of the olden days.’ Hilda tried to catch her breath. ‘The dining
room had a polished table I couldn’t hardly see the end of and as for the bedrooms, well, me mind went into a spin! There’s over forty and even more in the attics. There’s beds I
didn’t even know existed, with big lumpy covers and posts to hold up their great tasselled tops. They’ve even got curtains round them.’ Hilda giggled. ‘I suppose curtains
are hung there to stop anyone disturbing the magic moments!’