Vintage Love (180 page)

She felt more and more like a clockwork toy figure as she again replied, “Yes, Mrs. Higgins!”

“So come along,” the stout woman in the bedgown and night cap said.

They moved on further to the rear of the house and a steep flight of stairs which led down to a dark hallway with doors opening from it. Mrs. Higgins knocked on the third door and waited. There was a short pause before the door was opened and a gaunt, red-haired girl stood there in a white flannel nightgown. The girl’s face was long and thin and yet somehow pleasant.

Mrs. Higgins said sternly, “Emma, this is the new girl, Mary Scott.” And turning to her, she said, “This is your roommate, Emma Dalton.”

Shyly, Mary extended a hand to the thin girl. “How do you do, Emma?”

Emma Dalton eyed her suspiciously and asked, “Do you snore?”

Somewhat surprised, she dropped her hand. She said, “I don’t think so!”

“The last girl who slept here with me snored bad!” Emma told her. “I never did get my proper sleep!”

Mrs. Higgins frowned at the red-haired girl. “We need none of your complaints, Emma Dalton! This girl is to be your roommate whether she snores or not!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Emma said quietly.

“I’ll leave you to settle in for the night,” Mrs. Higgins told Mary. “In the morning I’ll introduce you to Cook and she’ll tell you your duties.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins,” Mary said politely.

The woman went out and left the two girls alone. Mary saw that the room was tiny and the beds no more than cots. She thought ruefully of her goose-feather mattress at home and the warm coverings. This was all so different.

Emma was studying her morosely. “This isn’t any castle, I can tell you,” she said, as if reading Mary’s thoughts.

She summoned a weary smile. “I’m not in a position to choose so I must make the best of it.”

“You can have that bed,” the red-haired girl said, sinking down on the other one. “The mattress is hard but so is mine. You are from the country?”

Mary nodded. “Yes. I’ve never been to London before.”

“It’s a wonderful city if you’re a toff! That’s what my old Dad says,” Emma said with a sigh as she sat on the edge of her bed. “The likes of you and me don’t see much of it but pots and pans and plenty of hard work!”

Mary was standing by the end of her bed. “Do you work in the kitchen as well?”

“Most of the time,” Emma said. “But I’m being trained to work upstairs. The Mistress thinks I show promise. She’s a dragon but she knows how to run a house, I’ll give her credit for that! Everything shining and all on time!”

“What about Sir John Blake?”

“The master? He’s not a bad sort. On the old side and forgetful. He’s in the importing trade. It’s the sons you have to watch, Mister Edward and Mister Howard! Mister Howard is at Oxford just now but Mister Edward is at home and he’s a wild one! Good looking! They say half the girls in London are in love with him and the other half he’s already loved!”

Mary blushed. “I doubt that we should say such things about our employers.”

“Do you, indeed?” Emma mocked her. “Well, I can tell you now we say plenty below stairs. But none of it where those upstairs can hear it!”

“I’m tired,” Mary said. “I’d better get to bed. I expect we have to be up early.”

“Six,” the other girl said. “You’re right! I oughtn’t to be wasting my time talking to you and missing my beauty sleep. Put your bag under your bed. There’s no room for it any place else.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll take out my night things.”

Emma was now in bed with the bedclothes tucked neatly over her. She said, “Do you have a lad at home?”

“A lad?”

“Yes, you know what I mean,” Emma said with disgust on her plain face. “A lad what wants to marry you!”

She shook her head. “No. The young man who was interested in me was killed in battle fighting Napoleon. So was my brother.”

“Old Boney robbed us of the best of them!” Emma said gloomily. “The men left behind aren’t all that much! Me, I’m promised to a cobbler’s apprentice. He doesn’t earn enough to wed me yet. But I’ve given him my promise and as soon as he’s finished his apprenticeship I’ll be Mrs. Bert Liddy!”

“Congratulations,” Mary said.

Emma was sitting up in bed, leaning on an elbow. She considered, “Bert has a pal, another apprentice, named Billy. A nice enough lad! Maybe you’d like to meet him?”

Mary began to undress, and anxious not to hurt the feelings of the other girl, she said, “Perhaps, later. First I want to become used to my work and to London.”

“You get an afternoon off every fortnight,” Emma told her. “Lady Blake is very advanced in that. And she don’t mind if you are a little late getting back. Don’t be later than seven that’s all! If you’re out beyond that on your day off she takes you on the carpet proper!”

Mary now had her nightgown on. She said, “I’ll remember that.”

“Put out the lamp,” Emma said. “And if you snore I’ll wake you and you can turn on your side. It’s the sleeping on your back causes the snoring. I learned that from the other girl.”

“You can wake me if I bother you,” she said. And then she put out the lamp and got into bed.

It was all very strange to her and she realized she had a great deal to learn about this house, the people in it and London life in general. She was overwhelmed by the thought of it! She’d seen little of the great city but she knew that it was much different from the village she’d left. She stared up into the darkness and thought about the drunken young man who had so kindly shown her to the door of Blake house. She smiled at the remembrance of his careful politeness and then the shock of his kiss! Not that it had been such an unpleasant experience!

Surely this was typical of life in London. She could not imagine having such an adventure back home. Thinking of all this, she dropped off into a deep sleep. Apparently she did not snore for she wasn’t wakened by Emma and did not come out of her deep slumber until she felt someone tugging at her shoulder.

“Ten minutes to six,” Emma told her. “Time to wake and rinse your face in cold water! You’re due in the kitchen at six!”

“Thank you,” she said sleepily. “I just seem to have closed my eyes.”

“You slept through the night like a rock and you
didn’t
snore,” Emma said, happily.

When they reported to the kitchen a few minutes later she was introducd to Cook, a buxom woman with a loud voice and an air of authority. Leaving the big wood-burning stove over which she was presiding the cook studied Mary and gave her an apron.

The cook said, “I’m Mrs. Birney. Do your work and you’ll have no trouble here! Emma will show you your duties!”

Emma showed a smile on her plain face. “You can help me, luv,” she confided in Mary.

Helping Emma turned out to be a formidable task. The kitchen slaveys, of which Mary was now the lowest, did every kind of unpleasant, menial work. The kitchen was a vast room with a brick floor, a fireplace with a boiling cauldron in it most of the time, a huge stove, great tables, and a number of pantries and cold rooms adjoining the main room where the cooking was carried out with ritual majesty under the direction of Mrs. Birney.

Mary learned how to peel endless varieties of vegetables and cut them in preparation for the cook. She also learned to find the various items required from the different pantries, and how to carry water, get rid of the swill, wash and polish the china and silver. There was no end of it! And once the day began the kitchen was in a turmoil until after the evening meal was over.

The help ate at a plank table in the kitchen. The higher echelons of the servants had another, smaller table with a plain cloth covering. But Mary, Emma and the other menials ate off the bare planks and were happy to have time for that. The heat in the kitchen was always oppressive, there was a great mist of steam, an endless hissing from the various boilers, and a variety of delectable smells.

It was a kind of nightmare performance for the first few days, especially on one of the days when the family had a dinner for some twenty guests and the kitchen staff worked well beyond ten at night. Mary was too tired to do anything but stumble into bed. Emma was much disappointed by this since she looked forward to a bit of nightly gossip before they went to sleep. However, after a week, Mary caught on to the routine and began to feel that she just might survive it.

When she left the kitchen one evening Mrs. Birney held her back for a moment in the hall outside to tell her, “You are to meet the mistress, tomorrow.”

“What time, ma’am,?” Mary asked.

“Just after lunch,” Mrs. Birney said. “You are to make yourself neat and presentable. I’ve given you a good recommendation and Lady Blake wants to meet you. No doubt she will tell you when your day off will be. Servants are assigned different afternoons off so we don’t get caught short of staff.”

“Yes, Mrs. Birney,” she said politely. “Thank you!”

The big woman eyed her in a friendly way. “You’re a good girl, Mary. And pretty as well! Just see that it isn’t the ruination of you!”

With this warning Mary made her way to the cellar room she shared with Emma. The red-haired girl was already in bed but awake and ready to talk.

Emma asked her, “What did Mrs. Birney want?”

“Lady Blake is going to see me tomorrow,” Mary said.

“Best dress up for her,” Emma advised. “Do your hair proper. She likes a girl to be neat. Especially her hair.”

“I’m nervous,” Mary said. “Do you think she’ll dismiss me if she doesn’t like me?”

“She’ll like you,” Emma predicted. “She’s had a lot worse here. The main thing is to look neat and be polite. And you can do that.”

All during the hours of hard work the next morning Mary thought of the ordeal of being inspected by Lady Blake. Her nerves were in a sorry state. As soon as she had eaten she went to her room and took a cold sponge bath using her tin basin and a wash rag. Then she carefully put on clean clothes and a fresh apron before she presented herself to Mrs. Birney.

The cook’s broad face showed approval as she studied her. “You look fine, Mary,” she said. “The mistress will be pleased.”

It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, who came to escort her upstairs. And within a few moments Mary made the magical journey from the Spartan working quarters below stairs to the luxury of the world in the main house. As she followed behind Mrs. Higgins she was aware of thick carpeting under her feet, fine paintings on the walls, furniture of quality and drapes of brocade and silk. It was a fairytale world of which she’d only had glimpses in prints. Now she found herself set down amid this elegance.

The rooms had a rich, perfumed odor about them and Mrs. Higgins led her into a small sitting room towards the front of the house. Seated in a tall-backed chair was a regal, white-haired woman in a dress of gorgeous purple with gold trim. She had an oval face which still showed beauty. But there was an air of vagueness about her which Mary noticed at once.

Mrs. Higgins announced her, “This is the girl, Mary Scott.” And the big woman at once retired.

The woman in the chair was rather petite and now she lifted a lorgnette and studied Mary through it. “My!” Lady Blake said. “You do have fresh, country charm!”

“Thank you, your Ladyship,” she said politely.

“And good manners,” Lady Blake said, peering at her short-sightedly from behind the lorgnette. “I understand you fell on unhappy times through your father’s gambling and subsequent suicide.”

“Yes, your Ladyship.”

“Sad!” Lady Blake sighed. She put down the lorgnette.

“I have never approved of the gaming houses which have become so popular. I’m sure they do endless damage to many unfortunate souls.”

“You may be sure of that, your Ladyship,” Mary said. “My father was a good man who could not help his addiction to gambling.”

“There are too many like him,” the white-haired woman said. “Are you happy here?”

“I am, your Ladyship,” said Mary after a brief pause.

“Good,” Lady Blake said. “Next week you will have your first half-day off. I have decided it shall be on a Tuesday. And every second Tuesday you will have to yourself.”

“Thank you, your Ladyship.”

“You may use your time as you like,” Lady Blake said. “If you decide to explore the city you must do so in company with some other servant. And do not on any account be late in returning. You must never be back in the house later than seven. London is not a place for young girls to wander about in the after dark!”

“I shall remember, your Ladyship,” she said.

It was at this point that their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a handsome young man in fawn colored breeches and a blue coat. He did not see Mary at first but went straight to Lady Blake.

He said, “Mother, is it true you’ve invited that tiresome Lady Montague and her daughter here for the party?” He seemed in a bad humor.

Lady Blake waved a placating hand at him. “We can discuss that later, Edward. I’m carrying out my household duties. Interviewing this young girl who has just come to work in the kitchen!”

The handsome Edward Blake swung around to study Mary and he at once smiled. Mary for her part felt her cheeks burn and cast her long-lashed eyes down. For the young man named Edward, the son of Lady Blake, was the same good-looking rogue who had drunkenly escorted her to the door of the house and kissed her!

He said, “Well, a new recruit! And did you say from the country, Mother?”

“That is correct.”

“And what is her name?” Edward Blake asked his mother.

“Really, Edward, this is no concern of yours,” his mother replied in a somewhat stern voice. “Her name is Mary Scott. Now will you be good enough to leave us. I will discuss the matter of Lady Montague and her daughter with you later, in private!”

“If Lady Montague’s daughter had half the beauty of this young lady I would not object to your inviting her to the party,” Edward said. And with that he left the room.

Lady Blake gazed after her son with concern and then turned her attention to Mary again. She said, “You must forgive my son’s intrusion and his remarks. The young people today are sadly lacking in manners!”