The fall instantly became a dive, deep into an abyss, as the curling he’d awakened in the past burnt into a sudden eruption of intense desire. Oh, how she wanted this. And how wretched that she’d have to break it and speak.
‘Master Robert…’ she rasped, clutching at his shirt as she pushed away. ‘I cannot…’
‘Let me love you, Evie. I will take care of you, I promise,’ Robert replied, pulling her back. Kissing her face and running his hands through her hair.
‘But we can’t…’
‘Yes, we can.’ His tone was so persuasive and his touch so intoxicating Eve was fast losing her fight against temptation now.
‘I can’t do this,’ she tried once more, in a desperate attempt not to yield. It will ruin you, her battered mind tried to shout through the cloud of sensation consuming her. ‘Please, sir, I am a…a virgin…’
‘I know you are, sweet Evie, and I won’t take that from you, I promise. No-one will ever know,’ he reassured. ‘You need fear nothing – just feel.’ He swept his fingers softly down her neck then kissed where they had been, causing Eve to close her eyes as surrender took over. Feel.
Robert undid her night-rail slowly as he continued his journey, exposing her naked body to the cool air. ‘So beautiful,’ he said, gazing at her. No man had ever seen her thus but she had no time to wonder at the fact as other wonders took over. He seemed to know exactly where the places were that ignited such feelings and soon guided her to where her touch could also pleasure him. They became fevered then, in a sensual exchange filled with discovery as mouths and hands explored. She did things she didn’t even know women did and felt things she had no idea she could, not only giving in to temptation but revelling in it. He kept to his word, protecting her virginity, yet finding ways to satiate them both until the sheets were pooled on the floor and the clock struck another hour.
Then the door of her room opened and closed once more, reclaiming him to his rightful, elevated quarters, and Eve listened dazedly to the continual tick of that great clock, registering the passing of time once more. But it was forever altered now.
I did not want this, she told the night. I didn’t want a life of sin.
But as the rain lashed at the window pane she knew that’s exactly what she was living, now that she’d taught Master Robert how to treat her. Now that he could influence and would impact everything she would do or say.
Seven
The fire crackled merrily but it was the only thing that was cheerful in the stuffy work chamber that afternoon. Mrs Matthews was ‘out of sorts’, as Molly had warned her earlier, and Eve knew full well the reason why.
‘Tea?’ Eve offered, putting aside the silverware she’d been polishing to pour it.
‘Humph,’ Mrs Matthews replied. She flicked the linen napkin she’d been folding briskly before taking the proffered cup.
‘Cake?’ Eve asked, lifting the tin from the shelf.
‘Not today,’ Mrs Matthews said stiffly. That was enough indication in itself that she was in an ill-temper. Cake worked like some kind of mood compass on the housekeeper; enjoyed with gusto on happy days, firmly declined when anything foul was afoot. Eve sighed. The tin was definitely being left shut today.
Eve sat to rest and sipped at her tea, desperate for a way to improve the situation, but this wasn’t just a small rift running between them. This was a gigantic chasm.
‘You could write to her again…’
‘I wonder if the weather might…’
Both paused, their colliding words registering. ‘Please,’ Eve invited softly, already knowing what Mrs Matthews would say.
‘You could write to her again. There must be some mistake, making y’wait so long.’
‘Perhaps the children have taken ill,’ Eve suggested.
‘Humph,’ Mrs Matthews said again. ‘There’s sommin’ fishy’s goin’ on and it’s nowt for good.’ Not only did Mrs Matthews’s appetite for cake alter according to stress, so did the thickness of her Leicester accent. ‘Someone’s sticking their nose in, I’m reckoning, someone with no truck an’ that’s a fact.’ Eve heard the accusation and whom it was directed at plainly.
‘Why would anyone do that?’ she replied, as lightly as she could manage.
‘Humph,’ Mrs Matthews said for the third time, ‘why indeed.’
Eve fiddled with her cup, trying hard not to look guilty as the night of illicit passion she’d engaged in floated at the back of her mind. Surely Robert wouldn’t stand in the way of such a position for her. Surely he was only interested in something sweet and brief – Molly had told her many times that men soon tired of a woman once the chase was done. Eve hated that the concept depressed her.
‘Anyway, there’s much to occupy us as we wait,’ she said, opting for a change in subject. ‘We’ve plenty to do before the hunt.’
‘Aye, the hunt.’ Mrs Matthews was ‘dead against’ Eve being on staff at the country estate for Sir Humphrey’s annual event but they had a large crowd coming. Only a handful of servants would stay to tend to the Liverpool residence, including Mrs Matthews. ‘I’ve been meaning to have another word to the master ’bout that. It may be better for y’to stop here with me.’
‘But they’ll be needing me to tend the young ladies…’
‘It’s not the young ladies worryin’ me.’
Eve felt herself blush, cursing such a telltale signal. ‘Well, I suppose if you don’t trust me to go…’
‘It’s no’ that I don’t trust you, child,’ Mrs Matthews said, her voice softening now, ‘I always have, it’s the young master…’
‘I…’
‘No, hear me out, Evie, you need to realise a few things, my girl. Aye, you’re so young in so many ways.’ Mrs Matthews took off her spectacles and rubbed at her eyes as she sat, looking tired all of a sudden. ‘I don’t think you understand what could happen to you if…if things got out of hand, like. A young man has needs, Eve. Perhaps, with your mother gone, I should have explained things sooner to you, I don’t know.’ She pinned Eve with a concerned look then. ‘I just hope I’m not already too late.’
‘Too late for what?’ Eve said, hating herself.
‘To warn you of the dangers of letting a man…have his way with ye.’
‘I won’t let that happen,’ Eve assured her, glad that there was some truth there. She hadn’t taken a proper bite of the serpent’s apple; the full sin had not come to pass.
‘Bad sense can rule good when there’s passion in y’blood.’
Eve stood, almost knocking over her cup as she placed it on the table. ‘I really don’t know why you’re saying all of this. I’m not in any danger…’
‘You’re a terrible liar, my girl. You always were.’
Eve’s voice was shaking now, as were her hands, and she hid them in her skirts. ‘I haven’t let him do that, Mrs Matthews. I swear it.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Aye, but something changed, I can see it plain as day. Just beware, Evie. You’re playing with fire and fire burns. You should be praying hard as y’can for that letter to arrive and get you well away before it’s too late.’
Eve said nothing about the concept of praying. Truth was she feared God wouldn’t want much to do with her now.
‘It’ll end in heartache, it always does, and I’ll no’ be able to help you if that’s what comes to pass.’ Mrs Matthews finished her tea with those words and stood to fold the linen once more, putting her spectacles back on and blinking back tears. Eve felt so wretched then that she went over and hugged her, something usually reserved for birthdays or special occasions.
‘Go on with ye,’ Mrs Matthews said, patting her back briefly, but they both knew that embrace held more truth than any guarded half-confessions would allow. And more gratitude than words could ever say.
The early autumn sunshine landed mid-morning next day, just in time for Eve’s weekly trip to the markets. She’d always loved Saturdays for this very reason, a chance to walk down past the fine houses along their road wit
h all the sights and sounds and scents they conveyed. Even better, today Molly had gone to the markets earlier on her own to further the chances of filling the large order the household required for the evening. Eve doubted she would have made much progress. Molly was as lazy at shopping as she was at everything else. Eve figured Mrs Matthews was simply trying to even things up a bit in the favouritism department by sending her early instead of Eve. Time at the markets was highly prized. However, the rare opportunity to travel alone was welcome respite from the tension at home, so the decision suited Eve just fine.
The streets were clean in this neighbourhood and the houses were large and stately, mostly fronted with enormous bay windows and adorned with rose gardens that were the pride of their gardeners. Judges, traders and men of industry vied for prominence here, along with the occasional noble gentry such as her employer, and Eve knew she was very blessed to have such a privileged address.
But thoughts of privilege provoked thoughts of Robert whom she’d promised herself not to dwell upon today, so she sought another preoccupation, taking out Mrs Matthews’s shopping list which Molly had conveniently left at home.
It was long and she contemplated it carefully as she waited for the omnibus, and she was still calculating what she would need to budget for certain items as she clambered on board. That task complete, she placed the list back in her basket and turned to enjoy watching the familiar route.
The great cathedral was always in view, whatever part of Liverpool you were travelling through, and her eyes often rose to it in between her observations of the streets, although she forced herself not to ruminate on the cemetery that lay behind.
The architecture turned more industrial as they crossed town. Men, women and children worked long hours in those new rows of factories, Eve knew, and she supposed they would be grateful for a way to feed themselves, despite the hardship of such work. The city was becoming increasingly over-populated.
Eventually they rounded the corner to where the markets were held. They could be smelled before they came into sight, a mixed concoction of animal and produce that both tantalised and offended, depending upon the waft of the breeze. There were freshly baked goods and sweet stone fruits in the air, hay and manure, a faint aroma of honey and the easily detectable, mouthwatering scent of smoking hams. Eve hoped she’d be able to taste a piece, knowing Mr Jenkins who loaded and unloaded crates from the docks would sneak a sample for her if asked. He’d always held a soft spot for her, having been her mother’s neighbour during her youth.
The Mersey could be seen from the square, sitting in quiet greys and blues beyond the crowds that gathered at the edge of the fray, serene enough from a distance but poisoned with refuse up close. Eve knew that stench all too well, from visiting her grandparents there with her mother as a small child. The family were long gone now, as were so many who lived down and around Scottie Road in Vauxhall, as the area was called. Disease seemed to thrive in the damp air and sanitation was appalling in the rows of backto-back houses where Emma-Kate had spent her youth. Few, if any, ever bathed and most were forced to share communal toilets. Those were mere cesspits, often unemptied for months on end, and Emma-Kate had refused to let her daughter use one when they’d visited.
Eve held few fond memories of the poorer parts of this town and felt the injustices that thrived there deeply, if from afar. Her mother had never quite let the Vauxhall brogue go, nor the memories of those hard, early years of her life, often reminding her little daughter to ‘pray for the Africans’ when she said her prayers. Slave trading had been rife when she was a child.
These days it was the sight of convicts being taken up the Mersey to be transported and interred in hulks on the Thames to await deportation that haunted Liverpool. ‘Go for row’ her mother had often termed it, a simple, child-like phrase but it had made Eve shudder with its dark connotations.
The omnibus came to a rattling halt and Eve shrugged away her melancholy thoughts, allowing the excitement of the markets to consume her now. Hawkers called out constantly, promoting their wares, and there was a kaleidoscope of vegetables on display, although not as much summer fruit as previous weeks. Cheese wheels were being cut, the pieces weighed, and chickens darted about, chased by small children. There were wines, breads and cakes, cured meats and the constant delicious waft of that smoking ham that almost overpowered the smell of rotting piles of garbage on the fringe.
Eve soaked it all in, waving to Mr Jenkins who returned her greeting cheerfully.
‘Morning, my beauty!’
Numerous Irish accents could be heard, one of many changes Eve had witnessed so far in her young life. Immigration had long fed this growing town and the Irish were the latest to flock in large numbers to her shores, many having been starved out of their own country due to the famine. Eve smiled at their brogue, which she found rather musical, although not all shared in her fondness for this age-old enemy who clashed, in particular, with the Protestant poor of the town.
Eve’s father had always considered the distinction between the two Christian faiths a man-made division, something that God would surely consider as relevant as choosing how one approached eating a boiled egg. We all end up nourished, no matter how we dine, he’d often say on the subject. Eve saw the undeniable logic in this radical view, although it wasn’t something she dared voice in public. Not everyone shied away from religious opinion so easily.
‘Bloody Paddies,’ Molly said, finding her in the throng and rolling her eyes at one woman who was haggling for some meat for her brood. A gang of grubby-faced offspring were racing around her skirts, adding even further mayhem to the place, and Eve smiled at them.
‘They’re only trying to get by, just like the rest of us. Have you bought any fruit yet?’ she asked Molly, guessing that she hadn’t. It would likely be up to Eve to do the lion’s share of the purchasing, not that she really minded. It was fun, choosing what the family would eat, almost as if she had some say in Robert’s life. Eve rapidly shook that thought away.
‘No much there, really,’ Molly shrugged. ‘Peter!’ she called and waved. ‘Now this looks a bit more promising. Ripe for the picking, I’d say,’ she whispered to Eve, giggling.
Peter Williams was a tall lad, just gone nineteen, and Molly had been pointing him out to Eve for some time at church, having now tired of her stable boy beau. Personally, Eve couldn’t see anything terribly interesting in him, with his pointed face and roughly cut hair, but Molly was all smiles, looking up at her new would-be conquest coquettishly.
‘Well, there y’are! I was beginning to think you was hiding from me.’
‘Hello there, Molly,’ he said with a nod before turning to Eve. ‘Sorry, don’t know that I’ve met y’friend…?’ He looked at Eve questioningly, his eyes running over her in inspection, and she held her basket a little more tightly in front.
‘This here’s Eve,’ Molly said, not looking too pleased to have to introduce her.
‘Very nice to meet ye,’ he said, grinning now.
‘Hello,’ Eve said, moving further behind Molly to avoid his stare.
‘I’ve seen you round, ain’t I?’ he said, leaning to keep her in full sight.
‘Perhaps. Molly and I attend most of the same places together.’
‘“Attend”, do ye?’ he said, amused. ‘My, ain’t we nice and posh?’
‘She’s always puttin’ on them fancy airs and graces, just ignore her,’ Molly said, moving in front and tapping his arm. ‘Now where’s them nice juicy plums you promised me? You was licking your lips last week and I been waiting to taste them ever since.’ She drawled the last and Eve would have been tempted to chortle at the thinly veiled flirtation if she wasn’t so busy trying to be inconspicuous.
Peter laughed. ‘Just over at me da’s table. Come on, you too, Lady Eve.’
Eve felt obliged to follow although she would have preferred to wander and explore on her own. Fortunately, Peter was as good as his word and the sample piece of plum they were given was d
elicious.
‘How much?’ Eve asked.
‘Tuppence a pail.’ It was a little steep but Eve had tasted Cook’s plum pie in the past so she paid for two lots, placing one in her basket and asking Molly to do the same.
‘Nuh, I’ll carry the potatoes later,’ Molly said, although Eve doubted that. She’d probably talk this Peter character into doing it for her in the end. ‘Come on, let’s check out the sweetmeats. I’ve a few coins of me own to spare this week.’
Peter went willingly enough to earn his free treat, although he looked back at Eve with a strangely knowing stare and she had the ridiculous thought he knew what she’d been up to in her room with Robert. The thought of his name invited thoughts of his person, and she tried in vain to stop them intruding but lost the battle this time. It had been the same last night when he’d stayed in town. She’d felt bereft in his absence, with images of him flickering in random sequence through her mind, and she’d found sleep elusive in a bed she now associated with pleasure.
‘Evie!’ Mr Jenkins was calling and she turned and hurried towards him gladly, relieved to have something else to occupy her. ‘There’s our girl, getting prettier each day – spittin’ image of your mother, you know that? And your father’s dimples to boot,’ he added as she smiled, but it faded at his last words. ‘Ah, sorry to mention him, love,’ Mr Jenkins said, his craggy face filling with sympathy. ‘He was a good man and he loved y’ma and that were enough f ’me.’ Eve nodded but the sudden tears scratching her throat prevented comment. ‘Anyways, here,’ he said, taking out a package from the dray and holding it towards her. ‘Think you should have this now.’
‘What is it?’ she said, both surprised and touched.
‘Just something from the old days; something your da gave me once. Figured it should be yours.’
Eve gazed up at him, speechless as tears filled her eyes.
‘Now, now, none of that. Have a look and see if it don’t make you smile instead.’ She tore at the paper, wiping at her cheeks and gasping as a bound book was revealed. ‘It’s a Bible – see? With pictures and all. Your da knew I couldn’t read so he said I should have it to learn more ’bout scripture and stuff. Think he were worried for me soul,’ he added with a wink.
In a Great Southern Land Page 6