He smiled from one to the other as he shook his head, saying, ‘Oh, I don’t know that you’ll still keep your opinion once you’re settled. My steward used to live there until some years ago when he gave a number of reasons why he should leave. First of all, it was too big for his wife to keep up, there being eight rooms and offices. Secondly, all the chimneys smoked. Thirdly, no matter how you wedged the upper windows, they rattled. Fourthly, the well that supplied them with water would always run dry in the summer and they had to carry the water from the river. But the main reason seemed to be that it was in a lonely spot at the extreme end of the estate, adjoining your boundary.’ He now nodded towards Nancy Ann, then ended, ‘And no decent road within half a mile.’
‘I…I know the house. ’Tis very pretty, and it is most kind of you. I do appreciate it.’
‘’Tis nothing, ’tis nothing.’ He waved his gesture away with a flick of his hand.
Nancy Ann now looked at her grandmother and asked, ‘What about the girls?’
‘Oh, that’s been settled too. Peggy and Hilda are to come with us, and Jane—’ She now glanced towards Graham, adding, ‘Graham is taking her on in the kitchen; one of the maids has left.’ Then, her lips trembling, the lines of her face converging into folds under her eyes, she muttered, ‘They say God provides, but…but He’s got to have an instrument.’ The tears were full in her eyes as she pulled herself upwards with Peter’s help as she muttered, ‘Excuse me. Excuse me, Graham.’ Then Peter led her from the room.
Graham Mercer was now thirty years old. He was of small stature, but being extremely thin, he looked more than his five feet six inches in height. His hair was dark and thick and he wore it short, trimmed well behind his ears and away from the back of his collar. His eyes too were dark, round and heavily black-lashed, which seemed to hide their expression. One was apt to gauge what he was thinking more from his voice, which was surprisingly deep coming out of such a thin frame. His mouth was wide, the corners drooping slightly. Altogether, his features gave off the appearance of sombreness.
Nancy Ann had rarely seen him smile and she had never heard him laugh, but nevertheless, she knew he was a kind and thoughtful man, and she said so now: ‘You are so kind. I…I don’t know what to say, or how to thank you. You…you know that I would have gladly had my papa and grandmama with me but…well’—she shook her head slowly—‘perhaps you know my father’s views as well as I do. I cannot understand them, they trouble me; and so I am doubly grateful for your kindness.’
He made the same impatient movement as before with his hand, saying, ‘If you only knew, I am acting out of selfish motives. I am very fond of your father, and it would be good to have someone near to whom I could talk. I feel sure, once he has rest he will regain all his faculties. Of course he hasn’t really lost them; his present state has been brought about through the strain of losing your mama. I’m sure of that. And of course, at the same time he lost you too, and this, in a way, was another bereavement. Oh. Oh, please!’ He appealed to her now, his hand outstretched. ‘I am not in the least apportioning any blame, but…but you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, yes, Mr Mercer, of course.’
He half turned away from her, bowed his head and shook it vigorously. Then looking at her again, he said, ‘If you feel in any way indebted to me, you can repay me. It is very simple.’
‘How? How can I do that?’
‘By forgetting that I am Mr Mercer and remember that my name is Graham. The boys have always called me Graham. Your father, your mama and grandmama have always called me Graham, only you have persisted in being so formal.’
She watched him smile his rare smile, straightening out the corners of his mouth, and she smiled in return, saying, ‘Very well, I will repay my debt…Graham.’
‘Thank you, Nancy Ann.’ And they bowed to each other. Then quite suddenly she sat down on the horsehair sofa and, leaning forward, she put her hand to her brow.
Instantly he was bending over her, saying, ‘What is it? Are you feeling unwell?’
After a moment she looked up at him. ‘Yes and no,’ she said. ‘Physically I am well, but…but the past few days have proved very trying.’ She didn’t stick to the absolute truth and say, The past day.
‘Well, now your father is settled, you need worry no more. I shall see to it personally that he is well looked after, and I shall visit him daily.’
She sighed, then said, ‘Thank you. Thank you.’
For moment he stared at her; then, flipping the tails of his long coat to each side, he sat down on the edge of the sofa and, staring into her face, he said, ‘Is there anything else wrong?’
Her eyelids blinked rapidly, her mouth opened twice, then closed tight, and she was about to shake her head when he said, ‘Is there anything wrong at Rossburn? Something happened that has upset you?’
She turned to him again. He was younger than Dennison and, in spite of the stern look he mostly carried, he was very presentable. Her father said that this man had loved her, had wanted to marry her. If she had married him he would not have said to her, Yes, I had a mistress. He would not have sat with the woman on the sofa and let her nestle against him. If she had married this man, her papa and grandmama would have come to the Manor House and they would have lived as a family.
She shuddered. What on earth was she thinking about? She loved Dennison in spite of his past.
When the hand came tentatively on hers she went to withdraw it, then let it lie. And when he looked into her face, saying, ‘Nancy Ann, if ever you feel you need a friend in any way whatever, will you remember that I am here for as long as God spares me just in order to help you.’
The hand lifted abruptly from hers and she was surprised to see him swing up from the sofa and walk hurriedly from the room. And she was more surprised at her thoughts as she lay back against the hard head of the sofa, saying to herself, Yes, yes, life would indeed have been different if I’d married him.
It was evening before she saw Dennison again. She was in the bedroom changing for dinner. This was another routine she’d had to get used to, why one had to change so many times a day and especially for dinner when they were dining alone. But, as Dennison had informed her when they first came home, it was expected of them; there was a certain standard to keep up before the servants.
There came a tap on the bedroom door. She expected Anderson to enter, and so was surprised when she saw Dennison, for he never knocked on doors. She was standing near the wardrobe and he came slowly towards her and, putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her face, then without a word he bent and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘Are we friends again?’ he asked softly.
She was weary. There was no fight in her. At the moment she didn’t care what he had done in the past, she only knew she wanted his arms about her again. And when, without a word, she fell against him and was enfolded once more, and as his lips traced themselves over her face the thought came to her, in something akin to horror and amazement, that only a few hours ago she had been about to confide her unhappiness, and the reason for it, to Mr Mercer…Graham. Really! Perhaps this is what carrying a child did to you: it weakened your reserves, for if she had felt inclined to confide in anyone, it should have been her grandmama, certainly not another man.
When she put her arms tight around Dennison’s neck and returned his kisses, it was as if in relief that she had escaped some disaster.
Certain members of the staff were puzzled, not to say the least, when the master and mistress exchanged pleasantries during dinner, and later walked out into the garden arm in arm, for hadn’t Staith reported that the master had for the first time slept in the dressing-room bed, and had been in a vile temper this morning. And it had all become so clear after Appleby, the coachman, had passed the word in that the lady Rene had been at the do last night, and that after a quick exchange between the master and mistress when they had entered the landau they had sat in silence all the way home. And yet, here they were,
back to lovey-doveying again.
Well, time would tell. They knew their master’s weaknesses better than most, and they had faith in the lady Rene. But if she was going to play any cards at all, they hoped she would soon get going, because this one was pushing her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Asking for the quarterly accounts to be given to her now. That was something that would have to be looked into and manoeuvred. Oh, yes, yes, that indeed was something that would have to be manoeuvred.
Six
Nancy Ann did not choose her nursery maid until three weeks before the child was due. She had interviewed five women from an agency in Newcastle. All had been over middle age, each had told her of her long history dealing with children, the one smelling strongly of spirits had related the longest history of all.
An advertisement in the Newcastle Journal brought twenty-two replies, and from these she chose four. And these she interviewed in her private sitting room, Mrs Conway ushering them in, giving preference to the eldest first.
By the time Nancy Ann had reached and dismissed the third one, telling her she would be informed of the choice later, she was somewhat in despair and wondered if she was really being too pernickety, as Mrs Conway’s manner suggested. The nurse for the confinement had been engaged, recommended by the doctor, but she was to stay only a month, and so the engaging of a nursery maid was imperative.
She sighed deeply as the door opened once more and the housekeeper ushered in a young woman, saying, ‘Hetherington, ma’am.’
Nancy Ann looked at the person crossing the room towards her: she could have been Hilda from the vicarage, but not so old; she was stockily built, with two bright brown eyes and a round face; she was dressed in a long blue serge coat buttoned up to the neck, and on top of a mass of brown hair she wore a straight-brimmed felt hat; she carried a plaited raffia handbag and blue woollen gloves in one hand.
‘Good afternoon, missis.’
Mrs Conway cast a sharp glance at her and it said, This one will never do. Speaking before she’s spoken to!
‘Good afternoon. Your name is?’
‘Mary Hetherington, missis.’
‘Ma’am.’
The young woman turned and looked at the housekeeper; then turning quickly back, she said to Nancy Ann, ‘Sorry, madam…ma’am.’
‘Sit down, please.’ As she spoke the words Nancy Ann was aware of the housekeeper’s surprise and annoyance. Then the young woman was seated, her hands gripping the handbag on her lap, and Nancy Ann enquired, ‘Tell me what experience you’ve had with children, please.’
The young woman drew in a deep breath. ‘Well, it goes back a long way, ma’am, because, you see, I’m the eldest of ten, and from I can remember I helped to bring them up till me father died when I was twelve, and then I went into service in the kitchen at Captain Dalton’s house. I was thirteen when Mrs Dalton’s first baby was born, and’—she smiled a little—‘it was a terror, missis…ma’am. Well, what I mean is, it cried night and day. She couldn’t feed it, and the poor thing was hungry.’
Her smile widened. ‘I think it was in desperation that they let me have it, I mean, to nurse. I used to put some treacle on my thumb and it would go off to sleep. Young Master Robbie, he’s now seventeen and he still loves treacle.’
A cough brought both their glances to the housekeeper. Her face was tight, but Nancy Ann, feeling more relaxed than she had done for a long time, looked at the young woman again and said, ‘Go on.’
‘Well, that’s where it started, ma’am. When Miss Florrie came the next year, I…I was promoted to nursemaid, and from there it went on. There was five of them, and…and I brought them up. Young Mister Luke was the last one and he went to boarding school some months ago. Mrs Dalton wanted me to stay on and look after the house ’cos she now joins her husband in sailing trips…’
‘Which part of the county are you from?’
‘North Shields, ma’am.’
‘North Shields? It’s quite a way from here.’
‘Yes, ma’am, but…but I wouldn’t mind that; I like the country. And…and I like dealin’ with bairns…children, so Mrs Dalton understands, what I mean is, me looking for another position where there are children.’
Of a sudden Nancy Ann wanted to be rid of the housekeeper. She wanted to talk to this girl, this young woman. She had never felt so much at home with anyone in the way of staff since she had left the vicarage. She turned now and smiled at Mrs Conway, saying, ‘Would you see to a tray being sent up?’ Then instinctively she realised that the tray would be holding one cup only and she added, ‘I’m expecting the master in any moment; he’ll have it here. And, Conway, I have made my choice. Will you see that the other applicants have some refreshment and their expenses paid before they take the brake back to the station. I shall make arrangements for’—she turned and glanced at the young woman—‘Miss Hetherington to be sent on later.’
The housekeeper’s stature seemed to increase. Nancy Ann could almost read her thoughts as she watched her turn stiffly and march from the room.
After a moment she sighed and leant back against the couch and, looking at Mary Hetherington, she said, ‘By that you will have gathered, Miss Hetherington, that you are engaged.’
‘Oh, ma’am, thank you. Thank you very much. I…I hope I’ll suit. I feel sure I will in the nursery, but…but this is a big place. I’ve never been in a big house like this afore; the captain’s house is like a cottage compared with it. But I’ll serve you well, ma’am.’
‘I feel sure you will. By the way, what was your wage?’
‘Well’—Mary put her head to one side now as if apologising for the statement she was about to make—‘I had risen to six shillings a week, ma’am, all found, uniform an’ all.’
‘Six shillings a week. Well, as I see it you were in a town and had access to shops and such. On your leave time here you would have to take a conveyance back to your home, which will cost you money, so shall we say eight shillings a week to begin with, this to be paid quarterly.’
‘Oh, thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much indeed.’
Why was it, Nancy Ann wondered, that she was feeling more happy and contented than she had done for months past. Was it because she realised that here in this young woman she was to have an ally? She knew instinctively though that were she to make an ally of her, the young woman would have most of the household against her. There were things she would like to change in this house, and she promised herself that some day she would. Yes, she would. But she would be given no help in doing this from its master: what had happened when she had pointed out that fifty pounds of tea had been ordered during last quarter. Fifty pounds! Thirty pounds for the quarter would have been quite sufficient. When she had pointed this out to Dennison, telling him that he was being robbed, he had smiled and taken her face between his hands and said, ‘I know that, my dear, prim, vicarage lady. It is an understood thing in all establishments like this that the servants have their perks. Without them, I can assure you, my dear, the wheels of this house would not be so well oiled. It is little enough to pay for a contented staff. And what staff, I ask you, would put up with Beatrice and her invasion twice a year? Her daily bath? Her dolls?’
That is another thing she would love to alter: that woman, who ignored her almost as much as did the Myers woman, only in a different way, for when she arrived she would take to her bed and remain there for days, only getting up to bathe and attend to her dolls. She was supposed to be eccentric, but Nancy Ann felt strongly that this was merely a façade hiding a form of utter laziness. Oh, she’d like to do something about her an’ all…But here was this young woman, Mary Hetherington, a human being she could talk to.
She surprised the new nursery maid by saying, ‘How did your late mistress address you?’
‘She called me Mary, missis… ma’am.’
‘Well, it is the rule in this house for the staff to be addressed by their surnames. I cannot say that I like it but with a large staff I suppose it is unders
tandable. However, I think that in your case I would, as your last mistress did, prefer to call you Mary.’
‘Oh, I’d like that, ma’am. I would, I would indeed.’
The door opened, and the first footman McTaggart and a housemaid entered, both carrying trays.
When they were set on tables to the side of the couch, the footman said, ‘The master has just come into the yard, ma’am.’
‘Thank you. Just leave the tea; I’ll see to it.’ And when they were again alone she looked at Mary Hetherington and said, ‘I’m sure you would like a cup of tea.’
‘Me…ma’am? Oh yes. Thank you very much, ma’am.’
After handing the cup to Mary, Nancy Ann, pointing to the plates of sandwiches and pastries, said, ‘Do help yourself,’ and Mary, now somewhat ill at ease, answered, ‘Thank you very much, ma’am,’ but did not take up the offer. And when, a few seconds later, she was about to sip at the cup and the door opened and there entered a gentleman in riding outfit, she rose quickly, spilling the tea into the saucer as she did so.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear. And…and don’t tell me’—he pointed to Mary—‘this is your choice of nursemaid.’
‘Yes, yes, it is I’m pleased to say. This is Mary…Mary Hetherington. Mary, this is the master.’
Mary dipped her knee now, put down the cup on the table and said simply, ‘Sir.’
‘Mary is from North Shields.’
‘Is she now?’ He turned and looked at her. ‘That is some way off. Are you of a fishing family?’
‘N…n…no, sir, not really: seagoing, but not fishing. My…my father was on cargoes.’
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