by Maggie Ford
‘No!’ Mary cried again, glaring at him through tears that trembled on her lower eyelids. ‘I know why you want this, Bertram. You’re besotted with the idea of the girl happening to remind you so of our dear Millicent.’
The very mention of their daughter’s name had made her voice quiver. ‘But for me, Bertram, it’s the very reason I cannot stand the sight of her. She makes my very flesh creep.’
‘That’s a complete exaggeration, my dear,’ Bertram said sharply.
‘And my most ardent wish is for you to get rid of her as soon as possible,’ she raged on.
‘That’s enough, Mary,’ Bertram burst out, anger finally breaking its bounds. ‘I will not get rid of her because you can’t bring yourself to be charitable towards her. I’m sorry you feel about her as you do, but you will have to get used to her. I provide for this household, not you, and I will engage or dismiss whomsoever I think fit; and that is my last word on the subject, Mary.’
In a fit of rage, Mary let out a shriek and leaped up from the table. Drawing together the ample skirts of her grey-blue silk evening dress, she fled from the room, past Chambers, blinded by tears seeing neither her nor anything else as she hurried upstairs to her room.
* * *
Chambers had closed the door behind her and was about to make her way back to the kitchen area when she became aware of raised voices. Curious, she cautiously retraced her steps. The words were plainly audible through the door.
So intrigued was she that she was taken completely off guard by the door being thrown open, giving her no chance to excuse her being found hovering there. But instead of her finding herself challenged, Mrs Lowe passed right by her in full flight, weeping and stumbling in her haste to leave the dining room.
By the time Doctor Lowe followed, Chambers was back in the kitchen, having sprinted along the passage and down the short flight of stairs with amazing agility for one so fleshy.
Mrs Jenkins was asking Florrie why she was so out of breath as Ellie came into the kitchen with brush and pan to wash her hands and face clean of ash and coal dust before tackling cleaner jobs. Glancing across at Florrie, she saw she was indeed out of breath, chubby cheeks flushed.
‘You orright?’ she enquired, concerned. Florrie ignored her. Thinking she hadn’t heard, Ellie repeated the question.
She was taken by surprise as Florrie turned on her. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you!’ she flared. ‘I know what you’re up to. No wonder you don’t mind doing grates, especially the one in the master’s study. Hoping to catch him so you can wheedle round him to take my job away from me.’
‘What all this?’ cried Mrs Jenkins, but she was ignored.
‘I’m not trying to take your job away from you,’ Ellie hissed.
‘You are. I just heard him telling Mrs Lowe he plans to give you my job. He wouldn’t say it unless you put ideas into his head. It’s really unfair. It’s rotten of you trying to put me out of a job so you can have it for yourself.’
‘I’ve done no such thing!’ Ellie told her. ‘It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you.’
‘It’s not fair! I’ve been parlourmaid for months and no one’s ever complained. Then you come along and in a few weeks you’re being offered my job.’
‘No one’s offered me anything,’ Ellie said. ‘And I don’t suppose they will. You got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘I know what I heard!’ Florrie continued to rail. ‘There’s only one person could have put the idea into the master’s head. I think it’s sneaky and underhanded.’
‘Surely this wasn’t said in front of you, girl?’ cried Mrs Jenkins.
‘It was after Doctor Lowe told me I could go. I heard them arguing and the master saying he was thinking of her taking over from me. Her!’
Florrie’s angry eyes flashed towards Ellie. ‘Then Mrs Lowe came flying out of the dining room crying her eyes out.’
All Ellie could do was stare at her, trying not to show the elation she felt. Something had come of her chat with Doctor Lowe after all, though she’d not expected such quick results, nor that he’d propose her taking over from Florrie and that it would set her employers against each other.
But she felt sorry for Florrie. The girl must feel awful hearing it like that, but it was out of their hands now. Florrie might air her feelings down here, but she knew she couldn’t complain or question her employer’s decision lest he let her go altogether. This was an easy-going household. She might not get another as good.
Ellie’s concern at this moment was hearing that Doctor Lowe’s wife had burst into tears over what he’d put to her. It was obvious Mrs Lowe did not like her and might even guess what she was about. But if the woman did manage to influence her husband against her, it would put paid to hope of taking advantage of his obsession with her likeness to his beloved daughter.
From the moment she had realized the effect she had on him, her dream had been of taking that one’s place in his heart, eventually becoming part of this family, learning to behave and speak nicely, with money enough to become a force to be reckoned with.
She’d woven dreams of being rich, confronting her father and bringing him down with her haughty condemnation of him, him grovelling before her proud bearing, begging her forgiveness. But was it just a childish dream?
Eight
It was no surprise to Ellie to be called into her employer’s study two days later. During this time she’d not seen hair or hide of his wife. She only ever had glimpses now and again anyway, the woman purposely avoiding her.
She could only guess what she must be feeling after what Florrie had reported hearing, but she curbed any sympathy she might have had. Her own life was more important.
Not that life had been sweet these two days. Florrie wasn’t speaking to her, Mrs Jenkins kept giving her looks and her own sister had long since been forbidden to associate with her. As to the kitchen maid, Rose, a timid little thing who couldn’t say boo to a goose, the only words she ever seemed to utter were yes and no in a squeaky little voice; there was no alliance there.
She missed Dora dreadfully. Virtually ostracized, Dora would have been a life-saver, and Ellie found her dislike of Mrs Lowe for keeping the girl from her growing by the minute.
‘Well blow the lot of them,’ she told herself. But not Dora, she added hastily in her mind. Once she was established in this household, so long as she could develop the tenuous hold she appeared to have over Doctor Bertram Lowe, she and Dora would leave to a bright and certain future.
Now she entered his study to his summons. He was standing by the small window, gazing out over the open land around St John’s Church. As she entered, he turned to her. She’d never seen him beam so widely; in fact it was the first smile she’d been given since Florrie’s spot of eavesdropping.
‘Ah,’ he began. Coming forward he stopped three feet from her. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. I’ll be brief, as I have my surgery to go to.’
The smile had vanished, leaving in its place an expression so severe that for a second Ellie felt her heart stop. She wasn’t to receive promotion but to be told her services were no longer needed, that she must leave this house. His wife had got to him, twisting him around her little finger. Now she was to be dismissed. And what about Dora? How could she leave without her? What if Dora, now comfortable here, didn’t want to leave? She’d be on her own with no money, nowhere to go. Having been here so short a while, she’d get no reference. Who would employ her? The future looked more bleak than she could ever remember – even worse than the time of the death of her mother.
All this went through her mind in a split second, her world collapsing about her. Only dimly did she hear Doctor Lowe’s voice.
‘I’m sorry that it has taken me longer to speak to you than I intended. Things have been quite hectic.’
For hectic he meant impossible, his wife eager to see the back of her, nagging him into dismissing her. He might proclaim himself master of his own home, but in truth he was as m
uch under her thumb as any man who needed to see himself as the master. Women – even women downtrodden and knocked about by their husbands – were stronger than men would care to believe. She was strong. And now she prepared herself to meet the world completely on her own. But her heart shrank at the thought.
‘You must have thought I’d forgotten you,’ he was saying. ‘I have discussed the situation with Mrs Lowe and have finally persuaded her that my decision remains unchanged, even though she is not happy with it. I have told her that in time she will become used to having you around.’
Ellie’s mind snapped back into focus. What was he saying to her? ‘You mean…’ It was difficult to go on.
Perhaps she hadn’t heard correctly, interpreting it only as what she would have liked to hear.
‘I mean that there is too much work in this house for Chambers and yourself to cope with. I feel that our young kitchen maid – what is her name?’
‘Rose?’ Ellie supplied automatically.
‘Yes. I feel she could take on extra work: laundry, simple housework. Chambers and yourself will share the duties of parlourmaid, neither one of you above the other. I’ll speak to my wife and to Cook.’
Ellie was speechless. One minute she’d been devastated; now this.
‘There is one stipulation,’ he continued. ‘Chambers will take on the sole duty of taking food trays up to Mrs Lowe, tidying, cleaning and dusting, making up the fire in her room, delivering bedlinen and making the bed. There’ll be no need for you to set foot there.’
She knew exactly what he meant. ‘I do understand, sir,’ she said, finding her voice, and was aware of a look passing between them before either could help themselves. She hastily lowered her head.
‘Well, that’s settled,’ he said briskly. ‘However, I’m afraid I cannot raise your wages. Only my—’
‘That’s orright, sir,’ she cut in quickly. Seeing him frown, she wondered what she’d said wrong. She raised her eyebrows enquiringly and the frown faded, to be replaced by an amused smile.
‘There is one thing that concerns me, my dear.’ He was still calling her ‘my dear’, which was also encouraging. ‘I would like you to concentrate on your speech. I think it would be appropriate for you to try to learn the Queen’s English and I shall endeavour to correct you as and when I can.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said meekly now, not quite sure why he should need to bother. Most working girls – even maids in big houses – had no need to talk proper.
‘Well then,’ he went on, ‘as soon as Cook explains what duties are required of… er…’
‘Rose,’ Ellie reminded him.
‘You will commence your new duties. Cook will draw up a roster, allowing for Chambers to wait at table for one day, you for the next, and so on. Now I must get on.’
Ellie quickly dropped a curtsey as he left the room.
Florrie was happy enough with the news, especially that no extra wage would be awarded to Ellie, so not promoting this virtual newcomer over her.
But if Ellie thought waiting at table was a picnic she’d got another think coming. It was, in fact, one of the duties Florrie disliked. While the master and mistress were eating, a maid had to stand perfectly still so as not to distract them. Sometimes in the evening Doctor Lowe would entertain guests, one or two medical colleagues and their wives, or maybe friends or family. Dinner could linger for ages, often going on till eight and there she’d stand, tired on her feet after a long day. Then it all had to be cleared away.
She was glad for someone to take over every other day and give her a rest. Ellie would soon learn it wasn’t so easy. And with such a short time to learn the order cutlery must go in, where water and wine glasses should be placed, how to fold a napkin, how to properly serve food and to avoid drips when serving liquids such as soup, the port decanter always to be passed clockwise, and so on, she was bound to make a slipup. Yet she had this sneaky feeling Ellie would shine at it. Ellie had that way with her.
* * *
As she and young Dora got into the hansom cab, its driver holding the door open for them, Mary Lowe felt sick.
She intended to visit her favourite West End department store, Lewis & Allenby, which specialized in silk, to choose a silk evening dress. On her way downstairs ready to leave she had seen Dora’s sister Jay crossing the hall. For a split second it had been like looking at her darling Millicent and her heart almost stopped.
She’d let out an audible gasp and Jay had paused to look up at her. The shock of that moment had wrenched a cry of anger from her.
‘What are you staring at, girl?’
When Jay didn’t move, her voice rose even more. ‘Stop idling and get on with your work!’
‘Sorry, madam.’ The apology caught her as sounding totally insolent and Mary heard her own voice rise to a screech.
‘Do as I say, girl! Go!’
Jay had galvanized into action and hurried away, disappearing down to the kitchen. But Mary could not get the sight of her out of her head or the sound of her own shriek, making her feel like some fishwife.
Now, seated in the cab, the vehicle moving off, Mary turned suddenly to the girl beside her, who at this moment was very quiet – too quiet.
‘Dora, if it can possibly be avoided, I would prefer you not to be found associating with Jay.’
Dora’s voice was small. ‘I don’t, madam, just as you’ve told me.’
‘Then I am reminding you again, Dora.’
‘Yes, madam. But she is my sister,’ she added timidly.
Even so, the remark sounded too bold to her – far too much like Jay.
‘She is not a good influence on you,’ Mary shot at her. ‘You are a nice girl, Dora. I like you very much and if you remain a nice girl I shall see that you are educated and have a good future. She will only pull you down. And I warn you, child, that if you allow her to I will have no option but to let you go, and that will make me very, very sad.’
She was pleased by a compliant nod, but her day had been spoiled. That brief flash of likeness had upset her terribly, the insolent look on Jay’s face even more. It stayed with her all morning, ruining the pleasure of her expedition.
Even the silk gown in a gentle shade of buttermilk that she ordered gave her no joy, seeming tainted by her harrowing experience. And to think that today, with an April sun shining in all its glory, she had actually begun to think herself on the verge of recovering from her grief.
After the bitter and devastating loss of Millicent she had been totally unable to leave the house – not even with Bertram. It was probably irrational and she could understand his impatience with her phobia.
It had taken a long time and only gradually had she improved. But she was still reluctant to venture out on her own. Not being one for making close friends with whom she could go shopping or take tea, Dora had come as a godsend. Gentle-natured, meek and respectful, she was fast becoming an admirable paid companion as well as personal maid. She dared not admit even to herself that to some small degree Dora’s presence was beginning to lessen if not fill the void that the loss of her daughter had left in her heart.
Jay, on the other hand, was another matter. That girl knew exactly what she was about and it made Mary’s blood boil to think of her trying to use that similarity to blind Bertram – he, foolish man, seeming to fall for it.
Mary wasn’t quite sure what the girl hoped to gain, but something told her it wasn’t good. From the moment Bertram had established his authority over having two maids share the work of parlourmaid, she had established hers by laying down a rule that under no circumstances would she allow Jay ever to set so much as one foot in her room.
‘I won’t have her anywhere near me,’ she told him flatly. ‘If you insist on her serving at table there is little I can do to stop you but my mealtimes will be ruined.’
‘That’s pure foolishness, my dear,’ was his immediate response.
‘You know how I feel. I don’t like her. And if you insist on keeping he
r I shall eat in my room if need be.’
‘I can hardly dismiss her without cause,’ came the sharp retort.
‘She is rude and discourteous to me! That’s cause enough.’
‘I’m sad you feel that way. I find her courteous and obliging.’
‘You would!’ she had flared at him. ‘To my mind, Bertram, you find unnatural comfort in keeping sad memories alive. But what of my feelings? Don’t you care that I feel differently? The mere sight of her makes my heart race so much that I feel quite sick and weak. It is making me ill.’
All he’d done was click his tongue and turn away, having made up his mind that the girl would stay no matter what she said, unwilling to let go of the past. Very well, he had his way of combating their loss and she had hers. But if he were not careful it could very well drive a wedge between them, for she’d never feel any different.
* * *
It was late May and Ellie was beginning to worry. Something inside her felt wrong.
The eighteenth of April had seen her turn sixteen – not that it had been celebrated in any way, she working through her day as usual, the long day not even being brightened by any sign of her sister.
She had told Doctor Lowe that it was her birthday. He’d smiled and wished her many happy returns, which was more than many a master would have said, though possibly many another servant wouldn’t have dreamed of overstepping her position by even mentioning it. But she’d been beginning to feel confident of her position.
Two days later there was a small embroidered handkerchief on his study desk, a note pinned to it bearing her name and the words, ‘For your birthday’. A flutter of elation had thrilled through her stomach along with a tiny prick of satisfaction.
Instinct cautioned her to say nothing to anyone about it as she secreted it in between the flat springs of her bed and the thin, hard mattress. No one would find it there; the mattress was seldom turned.