‘I’ve thought of that too.’ Sunday couldn’t suppress her eagerness now. ‘He’s very handy. All the boys in the workhouse are taught to do lots of things so he could do all the odd jobs about the place, which would mean you wouldn’t have to call in tradesmen when anything went wrong. I also thought that perhaps if there were a boy to see to them we could get some pigs for the empty sty and some chickens too, so we can have our own freshly laid eggs. And we could get a little pony for the empty stable to pull your cart again so you could get out and about more easily. With all the animals to tend to and maintaining the house, Tommy would have more than enough to keep him busy all year round then.’
Mrs Spooner’s eyes were alight with amusement now. ‘It seems to me you’ve given this a lot of thought, young lady.’
‘I have – and for some time.’ Sunday smiled disarmingly back at her. ‘But think of what we could save for the sake of two wages if we let the other rooms out.’
‘I suppose you do have a point,’ Mrs Spooner conceded, ‘but you’ll have to give me a little time to think on it. And I’d want to talk it over with Jacob an’ all.’
‘Of course.’ Sunday helped the old lady to her feet and as she hobbled away, leaning heavily on her silver-topped walking stick, Sunday hugged herself with excitement. It would be wonderful if she, Daisy and Tommy could all be under the same roof again – but now all she could do was wait to see what Mrs Spooner decided.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Sunday carried all the washing out to the wash-house and lit the firepits beneath the two copper boilers. Her own laundry and Jacob’s took next to no time to do, but Mrs Spooner’s frilled and flounced garments were another matter entirely; once dry, they took forever to press. Not that Sunday was complaining. She had grown very fond of her employer and would have done anything for her now. She was on tenterhooks waiting for Mrs Spooner’s decision about Daisy and Tommy and hoped that she wouldn’t take too long to make up her mind.
It was the next evening following dinner as Sunday was carrying the dirty pots from the dining room to the kitchen on a tray that Mrs Spooner told her, ‘I’ve been thinking about your idea, lass, and I’ve also spoken to Jacob about it and we both think it could work – having your friends here, I mean.’
Plonking down onto the nearest chair, she leaned both hands on her stick and went on: ‘I like someone who can use their initiative. You won’t know this but when me and my husband were first married we went to live in the West Indies – Jamaica it was. My Herbert had work there, you see. He kept the accounts at a sugarcane plantation and the sugar that was harvested there was then shipped to London.It was a very responsible job for him but soon I got bored of being on my own all day, waited on hand and foot by the local ladies, so decided to start up a little business of my own. I employed those same ladies to help me and I set up my first boarding house. It was a great success.’ She puffed out her chest proudly. ‘Eventually, Herbert started pining for England so we came back and bought this place and then when I lost him I adapted it into a lodging house. You’re quite right, Sunny, when you point out that with a little more staff we could take in more lodgers, so the next time I see Lady Huntley I’ll ask her to approach Mr Pinnegar about it. I reckon she’ll be the best one to sort it out. I don’t want no larking about, mind! Your pals’ll be here to work so you’d best all remember that.’
Slightly offended, Sunday raised herself up to her full height. ‘I’d rather hoped you knew me better than that by now, ma’am,’ she said peevishly, which brought the smile back to Mrs Spooner’s face.
‘Now there’s no need to get on your high horse.’ She waved a finger at the girl but her eyes were twinkling with amusement. Sunny could be a fierce little lass, there was no doubt about it. But then that was one of the things that the old lady liked about her. She admired people with a bit of spirit. In fact, Sunny reminded Biddy very much of herself at that age, and later as a young bride in the West Indies. There had been no room for shrinking violets there.
Mabel came bounding in then and Sunday bent to pet her as Mrs Spooner watched them with a thoughtful expression on her face.
‘You’ll have to clean out a couple more rooms up in the attic for them. Your room is too small to share,’ she instructed. ‘But don’t get building your hopes up too high. The housemaster may well have other plans for them so let’s just wait an’ see, eh?’
She whistled and called Mabel to heel then, and Sunday took this as a signal to get on with her work. But it was hard for her to concentrate on what she was doing because she was so excited.
In Treetops Manor, Lavinia Huntley was playing the piano in the drawing room. It was three days now since her husband had been home but rather than be concerned she was enjoying not having to worry about what mood he would be in. He was no doubt with his mistress in the small cottage he had rented for her on the outskirts of the town, ironically paid for with his wife’s money. Unfortunately, as his brother’s wedding grew closer his efforts to produce a son had become almost frenzied and he had taken to coming to Lavinia’s room on a regular basis again. She was still bruised and aching from his last attack on her and ‘attack’ was the only word she could think of to describe their coming together now. It certainly could never be classed as making love.
Her trusted maid, Zillah, had been horrified to find her crying the last time he had come to her room; it made Zillah see red, and sometimes she wondered how she had managed not to strangle him. She loved Lavinia as a daughter and hated the man she had married with all her heart. She knew how hard it was for her mistress to be childless. All Lavinia had ever wanted was a baby to love and cherish, and sometimes the terrible secret Zillah was forced to carry was almost more than she could bear. Even so, she knew she had no choice. She believed every word of Ashley’s threat and knew that he was heartless enough to carry it through. Their doctor was a great friend of his, and should she betray him, Ashley would have no hesitation in tricking the doctor into pronouncing Lavinia insane. She would then be locked away in Hatter’s Hall, and Zillah herself would be packed off to a living death in the workhouse.
As Zillah turned back her mistress’s bed now, she sighed as she looked towards the tallboy in the corner of the room. If her suspicions were confirmed she feared there could be yet more heartache ahead, for in there she kept the cloths that Lavinia used for her courses each month and just the day before, she had realised that the latest course was now more than two weeks overdue. Lavinia clearly hadn’t noticed and it could just be a case that the monthly visitor was late. Zillah chewed on her lip. But if it wasn’t . . .
She thought back to the state Lavinia had been in after the Mothering Day service earlier in the year. It was always a beautiful service where the Reverend Lockett gave thanks to the mothers in the congregation, and the children and daughters in service returned to their home parish to bring their mothers little gifts, usually bunches of wildflowers. Each year it affected Lavinia terribly. None of her daughters had survived to bring her flowers and yet she would willingly have given up everything she possessed for just one healthy child. Perhaps if Lavinia was with child again she would get her wish this time? But what if it is another daughter? a little voice asked and Zillah shuddered at the thought. She was sad for the first two Huntley babies and, getting older, doubted she could be strong enough to do again what she had been forced to do with their third daughter. Pushing the disturbing thoughts aside she continued to get her mistress’s room ready for her to retire to. What would be would be, and all she could do now was carry on caring for her dear Lavinia as best she could.
It was much later that evening when Ashley returned, badly the worse for drink, staggering and swearing at the maid who rushed forward to take his cape. Zillah was in the hall with a tray of cocoa that she had just been about to take up to Lavinia and she glared at him.
‘I suggest you stay in your own room tonight,’ she said. They had long since stopped trying to hide their mutual dislike.
‘The mistress is just about to settle down.’
His clothes were crumpled, she noted, and he reeked of spirits and another woman’s bed.
‘Thish is my house and I’ll shleep where I want. And don’t you forget it elshe you’ll find yourself out on your arse,’ he slurred.
Zillah scowled at him fearlessly. Thankfully that was the one thing Lavinia would never allow him to do – get rid of her. It had been agreed as part of the marriage settlement that Zillah could stay with her for as long as she wished; it was the one thing that Lavinia had refused to budge on.
She watched as he staggered drunkenly towards the stairs and prayed that he might fall and break his worthless neck. She knew she should feel guilty for having such evil thoughts but she couldn’t help herself. However, he finally reached the top and shambled off in the direction of his own quarters and Zillah breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t trouble her dear girl tonight and she was thankful for small blessings.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was midweek when Lavinia Huntley woke one morning feeling sick and slid aside the breakfast tray that Zillah had carried up for her.
‘I won’t eat anything just yet if you don’t mind, dear,’ she said apologetically. ‘I think I must have a little tummy upset.’
Zillah frowned as her worst fears were realised and decided that she would have to voice her suspicions. ‘I rather think it might be more than a tummy upset, my love.’
She lifted the tray and placed it on a small table as Lavinia raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
Sitting down on the bed at the side of her, Zillah gently took her hand. ‘Have you noticed that you’ve missed a course? I did when I was putting a petticoat away the other day. You haven’t had to use your cloths for some weeks.’
Lavinia thought about it, then as comprehension dawned she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘You don’t think I might be with child again, do you?’ she asked.
Her face solemn, Zillah nodded. ‘I think there may be a very good possibility.’
‘B-but I’m in my mid-thirties now; I thought I was too old to have a child. And what if it is another girl? Ashley would never forgive me. Worse still, what if it is stillborn like the others? I know I agreed to try again but only because I never dreamed it would happen!’ Tears started to roll down her cheeks as Zillah wrapped her arms protectively about her.
‘I don’t think I can face going all through that heartache again,’ Lavinia sobbed.
‘I’m afraid you don’t have much choice,’ Zillah said matter-of-factly. ‘Perhaps we should get the doctor to call in and have a look at you, just to be sure? Though it might be too early for him to tell just yet. Even so, I think you should inform the master that there’s a possibility that you’re with child. That way, he’ll leave you alone till we’re sure, which will be one blessing at least.’
With her emotions in turmoil, Lavinia nodded. Half of her still longed for a child yet the other half was terrified of history repeating itself.
‘But for now there’s no sense working yourself up into a tizzy,’ Zillah soothed sensibly, mopping the tears from Lavinia’s cheeks with a large white handkerchief that she took from her apron pocket. ‘Let’s get you up and dressed then you can go about your business as normal, for now at least. Weren’t you going to see Mrs Spooner today?’
She helped the woman dress then styled her hair as Lavinia sat staring blankly into her dressing-table mirror. She could hardly take it in. But then she knew that Zillah was right, she usually was. She must speak to Ashley then try to go on as normally as she could until it could be confirmed one way or another.
When a sullen Matthews, Sir Ashley’s valet, tapped on her door an hour later to tell her that the groom had brought the carriage round to the front, Lavinia nodded at him coolly. Sometimes when Ashley went missing for any length of time he would take Matthews with him; at other times the valet was left to skulk about the house with nothing much to do and was a constant thorn in Lavinia’s side. She always felt that he was spying on her and reporting back to his master, not that he would ever have anything untoward to tell him.
As she stepped out of the house, Jenkins helped her into the carriage. Unlike Matthews, George Jenkins was a lovely young man who had only joined them the year before when their former groom had retired to live with his daughter in Somerset. He clearly loved the horses he cared for, which was why he got so upset when the master ill-treated his stallion, and he always had a friendly smile and a good word for everyone. All in all, he had settled very well into the rooms above the stables and was very popular with the rest of the staff.
‘Where to, ma’am?’
‘Whittleford Lodge, if you please, Jenkins.’
He tipped his cap as he closed the door and soon the carriage was rattling away down the drive as Lavinia stared thoughtfully across the rolling fields. Absent-mindedly she placed a hand on her stomach and wondered if it could be true. Only time would tell now.
When she reached Mrs Spooner’s house and Sunday opened the door to her, the girl’s face lit up.
‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you,’ she said.
Lady Huntley teased, ‘Well, if I’m to have a greeting like that every time I call, I shall have to come more often.’
‘Mrs Spooner has something she wants to talk to you about.’ Sunday was clad in an enormous calico apron and there was a smudge of dirt on her nose, yet still she managed to look pretty.
‘I’m quite intrigued. Is she in the drawing room?’
‘Yes, ma’am. She’s doing her accounts. I’ll tell her you’re here then show you in to her.’
Sunday raced away as Lady Huntley smiled indulgently. She was so happy that she’d got the girl out of the workhouse. Everyone seemed really pleased with her and now that Lavinia herself had got to know the girl she could understand why.
‘Ah, I’m right pleased you’ve come,’ Mrs Spooner greeted her when Lady Huntley entered the room. ‘Young Sunny put an idea to me t’other day an’ I reckon it might be a good one. I’ve just been lookin’ at my books and would like to know what you think.’
A number of ledgers were spread out before her and she pushed one towards her visitor as she quickly told her of Sunday’s proposition.
‘This here is what we have coming in now,’ she said, pointing a gnarled, heavily ringed finger at a row of figures. ‘And this here is what I could earn if I were to let the other rooms out after paying out two more lots of wages to Sunny’s workhouse friends Tommy and Daisy Branning. So what are your thoughts on it?’
‘I must say it certainly looks plausible.’ Lady Huntley studied the figures carefully. ‘You would clearly be well in profit.’
‘That’s what I thought!’ Mrs Spooner beamed, her bright red lips a scarlet slash in her heavily powdered face. ‘So do you reckon you could get Pinnegar to agree to the pair of ’em coming here?’
‘I can certainly do my best,’ Lavinia promised. She would be glad of the diversion. It might take her mind off her own predicament for a time. ‘Sunday is doing really well here with you so there’s no reason for him to refuse. I will go to the workhouse to see him today.’
Mrs Spooner smiled with satisfaction and yanked on the bell-pull at the side of the fireplace. To Lady Huntley’s amusement, Sunday appeared instantly, as if by magic. It was obvious that she had been listening at the door – which was an indication of how much they meant to her, the two young people she was trying to free from the workhouse.
‘Yes, Mrs Spooner?’ she asked innocently as she fidgeted from foot to foot.
‘Lady Huntley likes your idea,’ Mrs Spooner told her. ‘But then I imagine you already know that if you were earwigging! But now go an’ make yourself useful an’ fetch us a tray o’ tea. An’ some of Annie’s raisin flapjacks wouldn’t go amiss neither.’
Sunday had the good grace to flush as she turned tail and scuttled away, and her heart was singing. Oh, if only Lady Huntley could get Mr Pinnegar to
allow her friends to join her, she would be the happiest girl in the world.
Lady Huntley didn’t receive such an enthusiastic greeting, however, when she arrived at the Union Workhouse early that afternoon. In fact, Miss Frost stared at her suspiciously. She had not been made aware that any of the guardians were due to visit and bitterly resented the intrusion.
‘I hope you haven’t come to inform us that the Small girl isn’t suitable for her new position,’ she said as she faced Lady Huntley in the entrance hall.
‘Quite the contrary, Sunday is performing her duties well,’ Lady Huntley said with a charming smile which only made the woman glare more, although underneath she was secretly relieved. She could not have endured to have the girl back on her hands.
‘Then may I ask why you have called without an appointment? Mr Pinnegar is rather busy at present.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll spare a few minutes to see me,’ Lady Huntley replied airily as she peeled off her long lace gloves. ‘Kindly inform him that I am here.’
Miss Frost bristled. Just who did this woman think she was, coming here and giving out her orders? Turning her attention to the girl who was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor, she barked, ‘You! Go and ask Mr Pinnegar if he has time to see Lady Huntley.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Daisy dropped her scrubbing brush and scrambled to her feet then shot away as if Old Nick himself was at her heels. Mere seconds later she was back, and skidding to a halt she said breathlessly, ‘Mr Pinnegar says he will see her now, Miss Frost.’
Sniffing her disapproval, the matron wondered if he would have been so keen to break the rules had it been one of the male guardians who had turned up out of the blue. ‘You’d better come this way,’ she said and marched down the hallway. Quite unnecessarily, Lady Huntley thought. She knew perfectly well where the housefather’s office was and would have been more than capable of finding her own way there. The woman probably just wanted to be nosy.
Mothering Sunday Page 18