“Yeh can leave it in the butler’s pantry.”
“Old Misery Guts Parker,” Ivy named the family butler, “would have a heart attack.” She wasn’t willing to get into trouble. She needed the goods she received from the houses on Fitzwilliam Square. If she was caught taking liberties at this house it would lead to nothing but trouble for her. The news of her presumption would travel around this square at the speed of light.
“It was Mr Parker who suggested you leave your pram in his pantry,” Hetty said in tones of wonder.
“Lead the way.” Ivy was dying of curiosity now. What in the name of all that was good and holy was going on here?
“Yeh’ll have to take off your boots,” Hetty said over her shoulder while leading Ivy through the warren of servants’ rooms in the basement of this house.
Ivy was aware of the furtive glances she received from the servants gathered in the kitchen but no one passed a remark.
“In here.” Hetty pushed the door of a room open. “Mr Parker left it unlocked for us. I almost don’t dare put on a light, Ivy – can yeh see all right?”
“I can’t see a bloomin’ thing, Hetty,” Ivy snapped. Was all this secrecy really necessary? The masters of the house never descended to the servants’ level.
“Shhh!” Hetty was shaking in her shoes. “Get in.” She pushed Ivy into the butler’s pantry. The pantry was a room she’d never entered in all of her years serving at this house. “We have the electric power.” She daringly pushed a button with justifiable pride in her own elevated position – not everyone was allowed touch this newfangled electric.
“I’ve heard of this.” Ivy stood staring up at the bright naked globe hanging by a wire from the ceiling. She was so fascinated by this modern wonder she never thought to check out the butler’s hidden lair.
“Don’t touch!” Hetty screamed when Ivy reached up to touch the light source. “You don’t want to break it, do you?”
“Fair enough.” Ivy would think about this new wonder later. She chanced a quick look around. There seemed to be an awful lot of dark shelves and nooks stuffed with ‘things’. She could spend hours in here nosing into everything.
“Take those ugly boots off yeh, Ivy.” Hetty had to get Ivy up the servants’ stairway unnoticed. The noise those boots would make would wake the dead. Not all of the house servants knew about the events taking place here, and Hetty didn’t want to give anyone room to gossip or carry tales. “Here,” she grabbed Ivy by the thick ugly black shawl, “let me give yeh a hand getting out of this thing.” She pulled so hard on the back of the shawl she was in danger of breaking Ivy’s neck.
“Get off!” Ivy pushed Hetty away from her. “I’ll take me own stuff off, thank you very much, Hetty Allan.” She loosened the belt of her army coat. She used the belt to keep her shawl wrapped tightly around her. This helped to keep out the cold and preserve her modesty.
“I was only trying to help.” Hetty was actually wringing her hands tightly together now. “We need to hurry, Ivy. Nanny Grace is waiting.” She knew Nanny wanted Ivy gone before the children returned from an outing with their tutor. Ivy didn’t need to know that, however.
“Give us a sec for God’s sake, Hetty.” Ivy dropped to the floor, still wearing her big coat as protection against the chill of the floor and any dirt that might linger there. She quickly untied the laces of her boots and pulled her long thick hand-knit socks up her legs. She tucked the hems of the boy’s trousers she wore under her long black skirt into the top of her socks.
“In the name of God, Ivy Murphy, what are yeh wearing?” Hettiy gasped at the glimpse she’d received of what appeared to be gentlemen’s tweed trousers.
“They keep me warm, Hetty Allan,” Ivy snapped. She’d not apologise for her need to keep warm as she walked the streets in this cold, wet, winter weather. It was none of feckin Hetty Allan’s business what she wore. Ivy was doing the woman a favour. She’d remind her of that fact.
Ivy pushed herself to a standing position. She removed her shawl and coat, dropping the two garments onto the top of her pram. The old socks she used as gloves she pushed into the deep pockets of her skirt. She didn’t want to misplace them – it was perishing cold outside.
“Will yeh for the love of Jesus hurry up, Ivy Murphy?” Hetty was dancing in place. She’d have to run down the yard to the privy if Ivy didn’t get a move on.
“Wait.” Ivy bent from the waist and with a practised move shoved her fingers through her mop of blue-black curls. If she was going to walk through this house, she’d do it in style.
“Well, in the name of God, Ivy Murphy,” Hetty stared with her mouth and eyes wide open, “look what you hide under that pig-ugly outfit!”
Chapter 23
The well-dressed man who had been watching the two women cursed loudly and fluently when he saw the woman he’d been ordered to follow disappear into the open doorway of one of these big houses. He’d followed the two women down the yard, hiding behind the outbuildings, waiting for his chance, but he couldn’t follow the bloody woman into the house. Besides, the back of the house would be lousy with nosy servants.
He’d never in his life had so much difficulty laying his hands on someone. The bloody woman was like a bee, buzzing all over the place. All of this would be so much easier if he could give the woman a ‘tap on the noggin’ – that would take care of the problem. He’d have her well in hand then.
He thought he’d had her earlier. He’d been creeping towards her on swift and silent feet when he saw that maid standing in the alleyway, obviously waiting for something or someone. He thought for a minute he’d been spotted as something seemed to have spooked the woman he was following. But she’d gone about her business with no bother and he’d been able to breathe a sigh of relief.
He’d been hoping to nab her today. He had to get his hands on the darn woman as his chasing her around the back lanes was becoming something of an embarrassment to him. He wasn’t looking forward to the lecture he’d receive if he didn’t succeed soon. He’d been so close.
The man pulled the collar of his expensive coat up around his face. While pulling on the brim of his hat, he raised his eyes to the grey overcast sky as if seeking divine intervention.
Glancing at his watch he groaned. He had to leave, now. He wanted to shake his fist at the sky and curse, but stifled the impulse. If any of his old cronies ever heard about this he’d never live it down. With one more angry glance around the deserted yard, he sighed deeply and prepared to return and report yet another failure.
He carefully stepped out from his hiding place. Who knew how long the bloody woman was going to spend in the nobs’ house? He’d work of his own to get back to. He made his way unseen down the back yard and out onto the lane.
Hetty couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ivy Murphy stood before her, an Ivy Murphy Hetty had never seen before. Why did the woman walk the streets looking like a beggar when with a bit of effort she could be a knockout?
Hetty almost felt her knees go weak with relief. She could relax. Ivy Murphy, in her long black shirt, spotlessly clean white lace blouse with its demure collar, and a hand-knit black cardigan, looked like she could be one of the upper servants in this house. It would be one less question Hetty might have to answer later.
“Well, I thought you were in a hurry, Hetty Allan?” Ivy was secretly pleased at Hetty’s compliments.
She thought of the ugly coat, shawl and boots as her uniform. Underneath, however, she’d been making changes. She no longer needed to wear rags. It had been hard at first but she was gradually beginning to spend some of the money she earned on herself.
“Follow me,” said Hetty.
The two women crept up the servant’s stairway without encountering anyone. Ivy had to wait several times until Hetty checked the coast was clear. There was no one about. They eventually reached the floor underneath the servant’s attic. The top floor of the house held the nursery wing and its staff.
“Nanny, it’s me, Het
ty.” She pushed the door of the main nursery open slightly.
The old woman had taken to spending her days in this room, lost in her memories. The house servants kept the rooms clean. They carried coal and kept the fire going. They brought the old woman’s meals to her on a tray.
“Come in, child, don’t linger out there in the corridor,” Nanny called out softly. “Is Ivy with you? Did you find her?”
“Are yeh sure about this, Nanny Grace?” Hetty almost whispered.
“I’m here, Nanny,” Ivy pushed the door open and strode into the room. They’d be in the hallway for the rest of the day if these women kept dithering. “I hear you want to see me.”
The old woman, dressed all in black, gently rocking on her chair placed by the side of the fire, seemed to suit the room somehow. A cloud of snow-white hair pulled back into a soft bun and covered with a lace bonnet framed her kind face. Ivy tried desperately hard not to stand and stare around the large room. She’d never in her life seen anything like it. It held a world designed to appeal to children.
Ivy wanted to jump onto the back of the tall grey rocking horse. The animal stood proudly in the corner, its red-tinted nostrils flaring. Her heart leapt with excitement at the sight of the toy with its white mane and tail. She imagined riding into the sky on its broad back. One wall held a collection of doll’s houses that she longed to touch. There were dolls and prams, games and strange items she didn’t recognise. This place was a wonderland.
“Come and sit down, Ivy Murphy.” Nanny noticed the wonder on Ivy’s face. It was a terrible shame the children this room had been designed for had never felt that overwhelming joy. “Hetty, you’d better get back downstairs. Cook promised to have a tea tray ready to send up. Perhaps you would be good enough to carry it up for us?” Even after all of the years she’d spent in Ireland Nanny Grace’s English accent had never faded.
“I’ll see to it immediately, Nanny Grace,” Hetty said with a quick dip of her knee. She left the room, closing the door behind her.
“What’s going on, Nanny Grace?” Ivy had to force herself to take a seat across the fire from the old woman. She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to jump to her feet again and examine every item in the room. When would she ever get the chance again?
“The family have decided to leave the square, Ivy,” Nanny said after several moments had passed. “To leave Ireland.” She didn’t think she was giving away secrets. Ivy Murphy wasn’t in a position to reveal Nanny’s employers’ intentions to their social set.
“I hadn’t heard that.” Ivy was surprised – news like this normally flashed around the streets in minutes. The servants knew everything that went on in this high-priced square.
“The family do not wish the world to know their plans.” Nanny stared into the fire. She’d believed she was a trusted retainer of that family. It was true what they said: there is no fool like an old fool.
“Well, good luck to them,” Ivy said to break the silence that had fallen.
“I wish . . .” Nanny stopped speaking at the brisk rap on the door. She stiffened in her seat before relaxing at the soft sound of Hetty’s voice.
“That girl must have wings on her feet. Open the door, Ivy, would you, please?” Nanny smiled. “Your legs are younger than mine.”
“Cook had everything in hand, Nanny Grace. She was pouring the boiling water over the tea leaves when I got back downstairs.” Hetty bustled importantly into the room. There was more excitement around the house these days than ever before in her working life. “Would you grab that table, please, Ivy?” She gave a nod of her head towards an occasional table sitting against one wall. Hetty didn’t think she needed to be all prim and proper at this moment.
Ivy wrestled the gate-leg table over to the fire. Hetty waited while Ivy opened the table and settled it firmly in place, then she lowered the heavy silver salver she carried onto the table top.
“I can’t stay, Nanny Grace,” Hetty whispered. “Can yeh manage without me?”
“Ivy will no doubt be able to handle everything.” Nanny smiled sweetly.
“I’ll be back to take Ivy down later. Ring for me, Nanny.” Hetty hurried in the direction of the door. With a swish of her lace-edged petticoat she left the room.
“See what they’ve sent up for us, Ivy.” Nanny waved one blue-lined, age-spotted hand in the direction of the table.
“You can tell me what’s going on while I set the food out for us.” Ivy was unconsciously using her ‘posh’ voice.
Nanny’s eyebrows rose in surprise but she said nothing. She had a great deal that needed to be said – commenting on Ivy’s improved diction would simply delay matters.
“I can’t stay long. It’s not that I’m not delighted at this opportunity to see how the other half lives,” Ivy said over her shoulder, “but I do like to get home before dark and these nights it gets dark so early.”
Besides, she wanted to be home for Emmy when the little girl got back from school. Emmy was coming to Ivy’s today. They would eat together and do their homework together. Emmy took Ivy’s education very seriously. The little girl had a brilliant mind and was years ahead of her age group at school.
“I’ll try not to keep you too long, Ivy.” Nanny accepted the teacup and saucer from Ivy’s hands. The old woman watched while Ivy prepared a plate of savoury delicacies before placing them on the table close to her hand. Where had the ragged urchin she’d watched for years disappeared to? Who was this young woman? Nanny wished she had the time to figure out this mystery.
“What is it you want, Nanny Grace?” Ivy knew the old woman wanted something from her. She just couldn’t begin to imagine what.
“I’ve mentioned the family are leaving Ireland.” Nanny closed her eyes briefly.
“What about the young lads?” Ivy knew twin boys of about five lived in this house. She’d been collecting their torn and stained clothing for years.
“The boys are being sent to boarding school in England.” Nanny fought the tears that tried to well in her eyes.
“What about you, Nanny Grace?” Ivy was beginning to see the light.
“I am to be let go,” Nanny bit out between her teeth. “The family no longer have need of my services. It was mentioned that by the time the twins were of marrying age I would be long dead.” Nanny could almost feel the ice cold of the ghost-knife that the master had unknowingly put into her heart with his callous words.
“Well,” Ivy bit into a roast-beef sandwich and stared across the fire at the old woman, “that’s probably the truth.”
“You always were a cheeky monkey, Ivy Murphy.” Nanny was surprised into a laugh. Had she really been expecting sympathy from this young woman?
“What do you want of me, Nanny Grace?” Ivy wondered what the woman’s name was. She’d never heard her referred to as anything but Nanny Grace.
“Your expertise,” Nanny answered.
“I’m surprised to hear I have any expertise.” Ivy swallowed the final bite of the tiny sandwich.
Nanny took a stern hold on her emotions. “As I said, the family are not taking me to England with them.”
“Wait a minute.” Ivy held up a hand and stared. “Didn’t you come with the family from England? The least they could do is take you back to your own country.”
“I came to Ireland almost sixty years ago as under-nanny to the present Earl’s grandfather.” Nanny wondered where the years had flown.
“So,” Ivy shrugged, “they should still take you back with them. What do they expect you to do here in Dublin? You don’t know anyone outside this bloody great house, do you?”
“No.” Nanny left it at that. It was her own fault. She had no friends, no family. She had devoted her life to a family not her own and this was the thanks she received. She was to be cast out in a country not her own amongst a people she’d never come to know or understand.
“What about the rest of the servants?” Ivy wondered aloud.
“Some of the younger staff have elect
ed to travel to England with the family. And there will be a small staff kept on here to oversee and caretake the house.” The rest of the staff would be in the same position as herself – homeless.
“Right.” Ivy didn’t see what the problem was. Surely the old girl would be allowed live out the rest of her days in this house? It wasn’t like she was going to be in anyone’s way. Still, it was none of her business. “What exactly are you looking for from me, Nanny Grace?” She needed to move this along. She wanted to get in behind closed doors before total darkness descended.
“I need you to use your contacts to sell some items for me.” Nanny felt the words lodge in her throat. She coughed politely. She couldn’t allow her pride to choke her. She had never indulged in the petty pilfering that was rampant in these big houses. She’d disdained the additional pennies and shillings that could be amassed this way. She’d proudly donated the children’s discards to Ivy and before her, her mother. “I’ve been offered the contents of this room and all other rooms on this floor.” Nanny waved her hand around the well-used luxury items. The young master, a man she’d raised from his first day of life, had offered her the room’s contents for her grandchildren. Nanny had reeled from the knowledge that the man staring down at her so coldly had no idea of her life outside this room.
“I hope to goodness this isn’t your pension.” Ivy stood and slowly walked around the room in a wide circle, touching and examining the room’s contents. The items were magical to her eyes but they held no great financial value.
“A pension was never mentioned,” Nanny whispered sadly.
“I thought . . .” Ivy shouldn’t be surprised at the callous attitude of the wealthy.
“So did I.” Nanny understood Ivy’s surprise. It was generally understood that old retainers would be homed for life. It wasn’t the law of the land but common decency should dictate that having served the same family for fifty-eight years Nanny should have been well set up for the rest of her days.
Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2) Page 19