The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Rose Meddon

  With their conversation having come to a halt, and suddenly desperate for him not to turn away, she said, ‘Have you been able to do much exploring yet?’

  ‘Some,’ he replied, quite ordinarily. ‘Although not as much as I should have liked. The little cove is rather lovely, isn’t it?’

  She nodded her agreement. ‘Proper. And ‘tis a good starting-off point for some real nice walks, too.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, the tension in her limbs beginning to soften. ‘If you go to the right and follow the path far enough, you end up here in Westward Quay. There’s one steep climb on the way back but, to my mind, the views more than repay all of the puffing.’ When she saw him nod, his expression one of interest, she went on. ‘Go to the left instead, and it’ll take you around the headland. Once you’ve climbed that first stickle path, it flattens out and from there, the walking’s easy. Mind you, on a blowy day, it can be terrible windswept.’

  ‘When I should imagine it’s all very dramatic.’

  Dramatic. If that meant to fear being blown from your feet, swept over the cliff edge, and dashed on the rocks below, then yes, she supposed it was dramatic. ‘Yes, sir,’ she agreed anyway. ‘Best choose a still day. And go when the tide’s down, if you can. That way, you can watch Oystercatchers picking about in the rock pools at the foot of the cliffs. And, if you go early of a morning, in the pasture away to the left, you might spot hares. Or, if you’re really favoured, the odd deer.’

  ‘Deer?’

  Her earlier unease now largely forgotten, she nodded. ‘A long time back, there was a herd of them in Woodicombe Park, but after the house burnt down and the estate fell into ruin, most of them escaped. At least, so Granfer Channer would have it.’

  ‘And now they roam as free as nature intended.’

  She frowned. According to Granfer Channer, a good number of them had quickly been poached. But there was probably no need to lead him to thinking that she was descended from generations of ne’er-do-wells and crooks. ‘Some of them do,’ she said instead.

  ‘Then I shall follow your advice and make a point of exploring properly in both directions.’

  ‘If you be so inclined, sir,’ she said, worried lest he think she was trying to tell him what to do.

  When, raising an eyebrow at her, he popped the final piece of his scone into his mouth, she smiled. How on earth was it possible to talk to him so easily? They had nothing in common – less than nothing, if that was possible – and yet here they were, conversing as though they had known each other for years – much in the same way as Miss Naomi had remarked only the other day.

  At that very moment, across the table from her, Naomi was patting at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. ‘Delicious,’ she said, addressing the table in general. ‘But I fear we had better not tarry. Aunt Diana will think we’ve kidnapped her driver and forced him to take us back to town.’ And then, turning to Lawrence, she said, ‘I would offer you a ride back, but I’m not sure how it would look.’

  Lawrence Colborne smiled politely. ‘That’s terribly kind of you but I drove us here in Father’s motor.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, I see.’

  ‘He doesn’t enjoy driving on the roads down here – says they’re too rough and too narrow, fears coming around a bend straight into a herd of sheep. Or a farm cart.’

  Across the table, Kate crumpled her napkin and placed it carefully on her plate. With hindsight, she wished she hadn’t eaten all of her second scone. Or, more correctly, all of her clotted cream. Hopefully, Mrs Lloyd’s chauffeur wouldn’t drive too quickly on the way back. Unused to travelling by motor car, she’d felt queasy enough on the way there – and that had been on an empty stomach.

  ‘Well, thank you, Lawrence, for a most lovely tea.’

  With Miss Naomi making to get to her feet, and Mr Lawrence assisting her, Kate stiffened.

  ‘May I?’ Mr Edwin asked, gesturing to the back of her own chair. With a gulp, she nodded. ‘Thank you for your charming company, Kate. From now on, I shall be forever on the lookout for foods that might benefit from a great dollop of clotted cream.’

  When they reached the door to the pavement and Lawrence Colborne held it wide, Kate heard him ask, ‘Miss Russell, might I accompany you back to your motor? I don’t know about you, but I shouldn’t mind a short stroll before the drive home.’

  ‘Thank you, yes,’ Naomi agreed. ‘I should like that.’

  And so it was that Kate found herself strolling along the quayside in the company of Mr Edwin, while ahead of them, Miss Naomi walked beside Mr Lawrence. Out in the open, though, her mind seemed to empty of things to talk about. Perhaps it was because they had already brought the occasion to a close and it now became necessary to start over. Thankfully, Mr Edwin seemed happy just to walk.

  ‘Where is Aunt Diana’s driver waiting for you?’ he enquired after a while.

  ‘Along by the green,’ she answered. But then, realizing how that probably left him none the wiser, she added, ‘You might have noticed it on the way in, at the bottom of the hill.’

  For a moment, Edwin Russell appeared to think. ‘By the church?’

  She nodded. ‘Directly next to it, yes.’

  ‘I remember. We left Uncle Ralph’s motor on that stretch of road behind it.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. It’s shady there.’

  ‘Yes.’

  How badly she longed to be back in the relative security of Mrs Hunnicutt’s little tea room, seated at their discreet corner table with its way of inviting conversation and the sharing of confidences. Ahead of them, though, she could already see Mrs Lloyd’s motor. She sighed. Was she foolish to imagine that Mr Edwin had been doing anything other than being polite – occupying her like any gentleman would so that his sister could converse with Mr Lawrence? Probably. No doubt, as far as he was concerned, the charade was now over: his duty done.

  But, throughout the journey home, as she sat listening to Miss Naomi recount details of her conversation with Mr Lawrence, and heard how she thought him ‘sincere and amusing’, she began to change her mind. In the tea room, Mr Edwin – Ned – could have ignored her; after all, to him, she was no more than his sister’s servant. That he had spoken to her courteously and with interest, suggested that perhaps she was wrong. Maybe he had genuinely enjoyed talking to her. And why shouldn’t he have? She wasn’t altogether unattractive. Nor was she unintelligent or lacking in a sense of humour. She might be in servant’s uniform but that didn’t make her brainless and dull. She’d certainly tried her best not to be.

  Beyond the windows of the motorcar, fields and hedgerows sped past, while, inside, Miss Naomi kept up her re-telling of her conversation with Mr Lawrence. Occasionally, she offered a smile of either sympathy or delight, whichever felt in keeping with the tone of her remarks. But mainly, she sat deep in thought about Mr Edwin. He had been so easy to talk to, leaving her feeling as though she had known him for years. There was more to it than that, though, the sensation inside her undeniable. Try as she might to ignore it, their encounter had left her feeling quite giddy. He had left her feeling quite giddy. She might even go so far as to say that she felt lovesick. It was ridiculous – even to her – but true. In those few brief moments with him, she felt as though she had fallen in love.

  The realization making her flush hot, she turned her face sharply towards the window. How nonsensical! No one fell in love that quickly. And anyway, she was overlooking that he was gentry and wouldn’t for one moment feel the same way about her. Things like that just didn’t happen. Of course they didn’t: what was the matter with her? She should pull herself together and stop entertaining such taffety ideas, as her mother would say of them.

  Mortified by her own foolishness, she hung her head and stared into her lap. Her feelings, though, were not to be easily dismissed. And anyway, who was to say that entertaining such thoughts was folly? Pamela Russell had married the son of a barrow-boy. So, why shouldn’t a lady’s maid be courted by a gentleman? It wa
sn’t entirely unthinkable.

  Hearing the sound of gravel under the motor’s tyres, Kate looked up; already, they were drawing alongside the front porch. And there was Diana Lloyd, getting up from the seat under the cedar tree, waving as she came towards them and then waiting as Miss Naomi was handed out.

  ‘Aunt,’ she heard Naomi Russell respond as the two women embraced. ‘Thank you awfully for the loan of your driver.’

  ‘Safe to deduce from your face that the afternoon was a success?’

  ‘A great success, if I am any judge.’

  ‘Well done, girl. That’s the way, decide what you want and set out to get it. No shilly-shallying.’

  Decide what you want and set out to get it. Well, if it was true for Miss Naomi, then why couldn’t it be true for her, too?

  Feeling uncomfortably hot and not a little conspicuous to be standing on the driveway, she looked quickly about. There being no one in particular from whom to excuse herself, though, she simply turned and set off towards the servants’ door at the back. There was time yet before she needed to get Miss Naomi’s change ready and so, she would go and freshen up: run her wrists under some cool water and splash her face to calm what she felt was probably an unfortunate glow.

  Barely halfway there, the sound of purposeful footsteps brought her to a halt. Expecting to see either her mother or Edith scrunching towards her – intent upon demanding to know where she’d been – she spun about. On the warpath on this occasion, however, was Pamela Russell, her sights fixed firmly upon her daughter.

  ‘Naomi Russell, have you taken leave of your senses?’

  Carefully, Kate continued on across the drive until reaching the corner of the house, she slipped out of sight and stood, waiting to hear was going to happen next.

  ‘Mamma, I was just saying to Aunt Diana—’

  ‘Whatever made you think it acceptable to travel into town on your own?’

  ‘I wasn’t on my own. I took Kate.’

  ‘You took Kate.’ Even at her considerable distance, Kate detected the contempt in Mrs Russell’s tone. ‘By Kate, I suppose you mean that country schoolgirl you insisted upon taking as a lady’s maid.’

  Incensed, Kate pressed a hand hard against the brick wall. How dare she!

  ‘She might be a country girl, but she’s loyal and clean and hardworking. And when we leave here, I’ve a good mind to take her back with me to Clarence Square.’

  Just to annoy you, seemed to Kate the only omission from that statement. She did wonder, though, whether Miss Naomi meant it: would she really take her to London? It would be one way to continue to see Ned…

  ‘Petulance doesn’t become you, Naomi. It hasn’t for some time,’ Pamela Russell continued. ‘Think what people must have thought to see you about like—’

  ‘Mamma, I don’t care a fig for what people thought. They no more know who I am than I do they.’

  ‘And you, Diana, whatever were you thinking to allow her to – no, to facilitate her going off like that?’

  In contrast to the tautness of Pamela Russell’s voice, Kate thought Diana Lloyd sounded unperturbed. Nonchalant, even. ‘Pamela, surely I needn’t remind you of the things we got up to as young gels? Remember that time—’

  ‘Diana, you’re not helping.’

  ‘Pamela, if I promise not to abet your daughter again, will you give me your word that you will forgive Naomi this one transgression?’

  ‘Please, Mamma. I assure you I did nothing to bring shame – had no part in anything of which you would have disapproved.’

  Overhearing Naomi’s plea, Kate hoped she had her fingers crossed; Pamela Russell would in fact be appalled by what had transpired.

  ‘Hmm. In future, try to remember that in your present state, and by which, I mean without a marriage settled, my only concern is for your reputation.’

  ‘Yes, Mamma. I know. I apologize for upsetting you. It won’t happen again.’

  Hearing movement across the gravel, Kate peered around the corner of the wall; Miss Naomi was going indoors. Something, though, made Kate remain where she was, her instinct rewarded when she heard Pamela Russell say to her sister, ‘Sometimes that girl astounds me. What she needs, of course, is her own household and a husband – someone firm, someone she wouldn’t dare disobey.’

  With the matter of Naomi’s dressing-down brought to a close, Kate’s mind returned to the more urgent business of how to see Mr Edwin once again, something she was still mulling over when, arriving at the gate into the yard, she opened it back and then turned to fasten it behind her.

  ‘Your ma’s been looking for you. In a real fret, she is.’

  She looked over her shoulder. Not surprisingly, it was Luke. And he looked deeply unhappy.

  ‘I’ll go and see her,’ she said, despite having no such intention.

  ‘Where the devil have you been, Kate, without a thought to tell anyone?’

  Turning about and starting to walk towards the back door, she said simply, ‘I’ve been on an errand with Miss Naomi.’

  ‘All afternoon?’

  She shook her head: where she had been – in the course of her duties – had nothing to do with him. ‘Not all afternoon, no.’

  ‘Then where else have you been? Because no one’s seen you since dinner.’

  She could feel the tension creeping into her shoulders; if Luke had noticed how long she had been missing, Ma couldn’t fail to have done. Still, she would deal with Ma only when she had to: no sense trying to cross that bridge before she had even reached it. And anyway, it was typical of Luke to be jealous: he never liked to think she was beyond his control – never liked it when he didn’t know what she was up to every minute of every day. ‘Nowhere else,’ she replied. ‘Like I said, she went on an errand and took me with her.’

  ‘Into Westward?’

  Where Miss Naomi went was none of his business and well he knew it. ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

  Already tiring of his manner, she reached to open the door. He wouldn’t follow her inside, not in his gardening boots, nor would he bar her way. Well, not twice, he wouldn’t.

  ‘You’d better make yourself at liberty to say, if not to me then to your ma. Spitting nails, she is.’

  With her fingers folded around the door-handle, Kate paused. ‘Then perhaps she should spit them at Miss Naomi, for I was only doing as I was told. And, since it was Ma who made me do this job in the first place, it would serve her to bear that in mind.’

  His response was to make a scoffing noise. ‘And any road,’ he went on, starting to reach for the door-handle before seeming to think better of it, ‘what’ve you done to your hair?’

  Instinctively, she raised her fingers to where it billowed softly from beneath her hat. ‘My hair? Now you’re just being daft.’

  ‘I am not. And you know it. Ordinary times, it’s all coiled up beneath your cap – won’t let it down even if I beg you to. But today, it’s all sort of… fluffy and… loose.’

  Beneath her uniform, she could feel her chest reddening and hoped her face wasn’t doing the same. It didn’t feel flushed. But, under his prolonged scrutiny, she certainly felt horribly warm; time to get herself indoors where he couldn’t follow.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You do, Kate,’ he said as he watched her examine the soles of her shoes and then step over the threshold. ‘I know what it is, you know, you’re trying to wear it like she does.’

  ‘You’re mazed,’ she retorted, bent on wounding him for the perceptiveness of his remark.

  ‘Well, it don’t suit you. You look like… well, like…’

  Bending to unlace her shoes, her face momentarily hidden from his view, part of her longed to dare him to say exactly what it was he thought she looked like. But, in truth, she could do without the further aggravation. Not only that, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. It was bad enough that, if what he said was true, her mother’s wrath awaited her.

  Leaving him to fume on the doorstep
and latching the door quietly behind her, she peered along the corridor. From the kitchen came the sounds of chopping and of water running into pans: dinner being prepared. With a bit of luck, there might be sufficient commotion to cover her slipping past her mother’s office – as long as Ma didn’t choose that moment to look up from her ledgers.

  As it happened, she was able to steal past and arrive at the foot of the stairs without incident. Now all she had to do was make it to her room, wash her face, put on her pinafore, and get along to Miss Naomi’s room to ready her change for dinner.

  Taking the stone stairs two at a time, and with a feeling of relief, she rounded the half-landing, her thoughts still on Luke. Curse him. With his petty jealousy, he had sucked all the warmth from her afternoon. Worse still, he had left her feeling bad about it.

  ‘Where in God’s name have you been all afternoon?’

  She stopped in her tracks. Ma. Well, she wouldn’t look up; she would continue calmly on her way, as though coming across her on the servants’ landing was perfectly normal. As, indeed, it was.

  ‘On an errand with Miss Naomi,’ she said levelly. Best to keep to the same story she had told Luke, which, in any event, happened to be the truth.

  Her mother, though, wasn’t to be mollified. ‘An errand? More like wormed your way onto a spree.’

  ‘That’s neither true nor fair. Miss Naomi had to go into the village and… since she couldn’t go alone, she asked me to go with her—’

  ‘For the whole of an afternoon? Without it occurring to you to check first whether you could be spared – for a whole afternoon?’

  A single step short of her mother, Kate shrugged. ‘I just do as I’m bid. I couldn’t have known how long she would be out. It’s not as though you would have gone against what was asked of me anyway. So, why would I think to mention it?’ You can’t have it both ways, was what she longed to add. The rough with the smooth, and all that. Either I obey her or I obey you.