Eve

by Beverley Hughesdon

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He raised one eyebrow, ‘Perhaps I could have a kiss as a reward for my restraint?’

  I just stood there, chamber pot in one hand, scrubbing brush in the other, and asked, ‘Dae ye no think of anything else?’

  ‘Well, er,’ now he seemed to be trying not to laugh. ‘What else is there to think of?’

  ‘Breakfast.’

  He started laughing, really braying, and Glad appeared, with a simper. ‘Good morning, my lord – is there anything I can fetch you?’

  ‘No thank you, Gladys – I was just on my way out.’

  I thought smugly, he hasn’t asked her for a kiss – then his hand reached down and patted her bottom. Glad’s bottom. The cheek of it – and he’d never even touched mine. Not that I wanted him to, of course – but Glad’s! She was still simpering – until I splashed her with my scrubbing brush. ‘Eve! Can’t you be more careful!’ That wiped the simper off her face, alright.

  Five of the single gentlemen went swimming the following morning. Four walked past wearing flannels and with damp hair, off to leave their wet towels on the floor of their rooms for me to pick up. The fifth stopped, and lobbed his wet towel straight to me. ‘Catch!’ Horseface, looking curiously different with his hair all slicked down – but sounding just the same. ‘You can put that in your laundry basket.’ He gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘Brr – it’s cold in that lake these mornings.’

  I said, ‘Compared wi’ the sea off Helspie that lake’s a warm bath.’

  ‘And how do you know that? Ah, I suppose I can guess. You know, you’ll get caught one day, young woman.’

  I shook my head. ‘They’ll no catch me. It’s a case o’ being canny, and finding a time when every other body in the house is busy stuffing hissel’.’

  ‘Tut, tut.’ Then one of the other men called his name. He shouted over his shoulder, ‘Just coming.’ Turning back to me he said quickly, ‘Look over there!’ I swung round – and felt him reach for my behind and give it a squeeze – gently, but firmly. He may have been cold, but his hand wasn’t – it was nice and warm, to be honest. By the time I turned back, he’d gone.

  A couple of hours later I saw him again. I’d just finished work on the floor of the garden entrance when he came along – with Dr Travers. Dr Travers smiled, and I bobbed to him. He’d left footprints on my nice clean floor: his footprints – I could hardly bear the thought of wiping them away. Lord Rothbury said to him, ‘I must just run round to the stables.’

  Dr Travers replied, ‘Don’t forget there’s a concert rehearsal before lunch – in the billiard room.’ He was off.

  I gazed after him – then realised Horseface was still there. I told him, ‘If ye was wanting to visit the closet, the floor o’ the other one’s already dry.’ I didn’t want him ruining my hard work.

  ‘Ah, thank you. Another time, perhaps.’ He moved closer. ‘Don’t I get a bob?’ I hesitated, and he said, ‘I’ll take a kiss instead, if you’d rather.’

  I put down my pails, lifted my skirts a fraction, and went down into my full-scale, Gondoliers-finale curtsey. As I rose up again I asked, ‘Will that dae ye – ma lord?’

  ‘Mm, very nice – almost as good as a kiss.’

  He was still hanging around, and seemed in a pretty good mood, so I asked, ‘What are the songs tae be for this concert – nice lively ones, are they?’

  He said gravely, ‘What would you say if I told you that the entire programme consisted of hymns?’

  I frowned. ‘Ye mean, like, “Fight the Good Fight”?’

  ‘Goodness no – nothing as jolly as that. Only those with tunes of the most dreary kind.’ I could feel my face falling. How typical of Lady Stokesley. Hymns were all very well in church, but – He said pleasantly, ‘Is there anything else you wish to know?’

  ‘Dr Travers – what sort o’ voice does he sing in?’

  ‘He does a very fine rendering of “Through The Night of Doubt and Sorrow”. But then, I always think that tune suits a good, deep, basso profundo, don’t you?’

  ‘He’s a bass? But he doesna look like a bass!’

  Lord Rothbury asked, interestedly, ‘What does a bass look like?’

  ‘Weel – nae sa guid-looking.’ He brayed. I said, ‘What dae ye sing?’ Smiling, he tapped my nose. ‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you, young woman?’

  Rather irritated I told him, ‘Ma name’s “Eve”.’

  ‘Yes, I’d not forgotten.’ He grinned. ‘And most appropriate, too – after all, it was your namesake who got us all thrown out of Eden.’

  Cheek. I said, ‘Adam didna have tae eat o’ the fruit – and certain sure he shouldna’ve put the blame on her after he’d done it.’ Mimicking Adam’s voice I quoted: ‘“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree.” What a cowardly sneak that chappie was!’

  ‘Your theology is unorthodox, but I must admit you have a case. I presume you’re not a Wee Free?’

  ‘Nae,’ I told him. ‘An’ if I were I wouldna be coming tae the servants’ dance.’

  ‘Oh yes. That is something to look forward to.’ He leant towards me, and showed his big, strong teeth in a broad smile. ‘And if you’re a good girl, I might even dance with you.’

  I retorted, ‘Suppose I’m a bad girl?’

  ‘Then I’ll definitely dance with you!’ He strode off, whistling. I was safe for one dance, then; I’d never manage to be good for five whole days. But fancy having to sit through an entire programme of hymns, first!

  Except that I wouldn’t. Spotting Mr Parton going into the billiard room with his music under his arm I rushed up to say ‘Good morning’, bob, and get a squint at the titles: ‘The Mikado’ – Gilbert and Sullivan. I exclaimed, ‘Oh, I do like their songs!’

  Mr Parton looked pleased. ‘A number of them will be in the concert.’

  I said, ‘Along with the hymns.’

  ‘Hymns?’ He looked surprised. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘But Lord Rothbury said—’ Ah, clever old Horseface. I amended, ‘He didna actually say, he just gave me tae understand as there’d be hymns.’

  Mr Parton smiled. ‘He does like his little joke.’

  I heard the clatter of bachelors advancing across the hall and asked quickly, ‘Dr Travers – what’s he going tae sing on Monday?’

  ‘One of his solos will be “Take a pair of sparkling eyes”.’

  Which was always sung by a tenor. But surely Horseface had said – no, he hadn’t actually said. Clever old Horseface. He’d tried to gull me. But he hadn’t succeeded, because I’d found out the truth.

  Even cleverer Eve.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Pride goes before a fall, as the old saying has it. If a saying’s old enough it’s been said so often it’s bound to be right some of the time – and this one was for me, that Wednesday evening.

  After the guests had processed across the hall to the dining room the housemaid’s procession moved in – and I saw that one of the carpets was rolled up again: more dancing tonight. So 9.45 found me up on the gallery, minus my cap and apron and with a brass water can hanging from my hand, peering out from behind a pillar to check that Lord Rothbury was down on the dance floor.

  He wasn’t. A large heavy hand descended on my shoulder. I hadn’t heard him coming – while I was stalking the guests, he’d stalked me. A voice close to my ear demanded, low but with force, ‘What are you doing here?’ And I knew he was annoyed by the way his hand was gripping me. ‘You made a promise.’

  I whispered back, ‘I promised not tae eavesdrop, and I canna, can I – not frae up here? I was only listening tae the music.’ And I couldn’t keep the longing from my voice as I added, ‘I’m gey fond o’ dancing maself.’

  I felt the strength of his grip relax a fraction, and determined to press home my advantage, lifted the brass shaving water can to show him. ‘I just fetched this.’ Choosing my words carefully, so as not to tell a lie, I said, ‘If it’s left in one of the rooms an’ Doris finds it, t
here’ll be trouble.’

  His grip tightened again until it almost hurt. ‘Your rooms are in the opposite direction.’

  ‘Glad and me – we help each other—’

  ‘You have a weasel way with words, young woman.’ He didn’t believe me. Yes, he was definitely annoyed. ‘You are trespassing – yet again – and you know it. Why else remove your cap and apron?’

  I could have come up with another excuse, but he wouldn’t have believed that, either. So I just stood there in silence. Then a bedroom door began to open, and I froze. At once his hand freed my shoulder. It was one of the ladies’ maids – if I moved fast she probably wouldn’t recognise me. I moved – fast.

  I didn’t see Lord Rothbury the following morning, but Dr Travers passed me on his way in from the stables, shortly before tea. He gave me a smile, and a ‘Good afternoon’, so Horseface hadn’t told him he’d found me up on the gallery. And anyway, why on earth shouldn’t I have been listening to the music, if I wanted? I went on upstairs, found my towel and overall, coiled my plaits up tightly on top of my head, and set off for my daily dip.

  I was already on my second length when I heard a rattling noise – the chain of the padlock was being unfastened. Someone had decided that a bathe was more appealing than the stillroom scones; Lady Stokesley would be displeased. As the gate was well screened from the lake itself I had plenty of time to swim over to one side and take shelter under the overhanging willows there. I crouched down in the shallow water close to the bank; the weeping willows were so thick I couldn’t even see out – so no one would be able to spot me.

  I wasn’t worried about being caught because I had taken certain elementary precautions, as would anybody who’d been trained in the art of trespass by Uncle Fergus – not that he would ever have approved of my entering a place with only one exit, especially not for such a frivolous purpose as swimming. But I had been careful to make sure that my overall and towel were properly concealed in a bush close to that single exit, in case any bona fide bathers did turn up. Then while they were were heading along the winding path through the shrubbery to their changing hut I could seize my clothes, climb over the gate, and melt into the undergrowth outside without their ever catching sight of me. And why had that chain rattled in the first place? Because I’d carefully arranged the gate so that it would, if anyone handled the padlock. So, no problems, Eve. A brief, though chilly, wait – then up, over, and out.

  In the meantime, since eavesdropping was unavoidable, I could at least discover who was risking Lady Stokesley’s ire by not visiting their nosebags at the appointed time. There were two of them; I could tell that by the crunching of the gravel.

  An anxious voice said, ‘Lady Stokesley will be expecting us for tea.’

  Mr Parton – now that was a surprise. But not when I heard the voice replying, ‘I just wanted to indulge in a little nature study, Fred.’ Oh well, it could have been worse – might have been Dr Travers.

  ‘But why at tea time, old man?’

  ‘Because that’s the one meal when everybody in the house is “stuffing hisself” simultaneously. So that will be when your young Scots protegee comes swimming – if we’re in luck.’ What a cheek – it was none of his business when I chose to have my dip.

  ‘But – it’s not very sporting to spy on her.’ Good old Mr Parton sounded horrified.

  ‘I don’t see why not. She’s spied on us – and a lot more than once.’

  By now they must have rounded the corner and gained a full View of the lake, because Mr Parton, sounding relieved, said, ‘She obviously isn’t here – we’d better get back.’

  But Lord Rothbury was having none of that. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Fred. I daresay she heard us opening the gate. I don’t think any legitimate bather would have arranged that chain and padlock quite so carefully – it was obviously intended to give a warning. Besides, I had Wilkins posted at the back entrance, and he reported seeing her heading this way.’ Oh no – that was cheating! Fancy using his valet to spy on me. He continued, ‘Look at all that overhanging foliage, that’s where she’ll be hiding – plenty of good cover for a Scottish wild cat there. So we’ll sit on her clothes for a while, until she gets bored and comes out to fetch them.’

  Mr Parton said hurriedly, ‘Then we’d better stroll along to the hut, and wait for her there.’ I braced myself to make a dash for it – and heard Horseface neigh. ‘Oh, come off it, Fred – you won’t get me to fall for that one. You know as well as I do that that girl is far too smart to let herself be caught in such an obvious trap. No, her clothes will be hidden somewhere near the gate, so she can make a quick getaway if necessary.’ I froze. ‘Let’s have a look. Ah, here they are!’ Oh, no!

  Mr Parton was still fighting my corner. In an unusually firm voice he said, ‘Monty, this is not chivalrous of you.’

  ‘I’m far from sure that this particular young female is entitled to much in the way of chivalry, given the normal run of her behaviour.’

  Mr Parton changed tack. ‘But the poor girl will be so embarrassed.’

  ‘Fred, it is quite clear from the contents of this bundle that she is swimming in a full set of underwear.’

  ‘But her – er – undergarments – will be wet – and clinging to her shape.’

  Horseface snorted. ‘I have no objection to viewing her shape. None whatsoever.’

  Mr Parton’s voice was getting very squeaky by now. ‘But she may have an objection—’

  ‘She is trespassing – yet again. In fact, you could argue that I’m doing that girl a favour.’ What! ‘If she keeps on turning up in the wrong place at the wrong time she’ll find herself dismissed one of these fine days – and without a character. She needs to be taught a lesson, and anything less than a strong dose of embarrassment is unlikely to have any effect on her. She’s got a hide like a rhinoceros – metaphorically speaking, that is.’

  Mr Parton squeaked helplessly, ‘But she’ll be getting cold—’

  Actually, I wasn’t – that’s the advantage of anger. Despairing now, Mr Parton said, ‘I know if Will were here, he’d never agree to this.’

  Horseface was brisk, ‘That’s why I brought you instead. Now, let’s flush her out.’ He bellowed across the lake, ‘Halloa, young woman! If you want your clothes, you’ll have to ask me for them.’ His voice dropped to normal. ‘Look Fred, don’t worry. As soon as she pokes her little foxy face out of the bushes and asks me nicely for her frock and towel back, I will give them to her, I promise.’

  There was a short pause before Mr Parton said, ‘But suppose she doesn’t ask nicely?’

  ‘That thought had crossed my mind, too. Then she’ll have to come and collect them, won’t she? And show her shape, in her wet underwear.’

  Well, he was wrong about that, wasn’t he? Because I jolly well wasn’t wearing any underwear to show him my shape in – and I certainly wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of pleading for my clothes through the willow leaves, like some feebly frightened female.

  I thrust the sheltering branches aside, dived out into the deeper water, and swam straight to the head of the lake. When I reached the shallows, I let my feet down and strode up out of the water and on to the narrow stretch of earth at the base of the bank. With one spring I was up that and walking across the grass, straight to where they were standing. I thought Horseface might try and make off with my clothes, but he didn’t – he just stood there, stock still, staring at me.

  Holding out my hand I said, in my most freezing Scots accent, ‘I’ll have ma clothes back – if ye’ve no objection.’ He handed them to me without a word.

  Turning my back on him I pulled my overall on, tied the belt round my waist, and stalked barefoot off over the gravel.

  I was absolutely blazing. How dared he force me to do that? What an absolutely rotten way to behave! It wasn’t anything to do with chivalry, it was about plain good manners. If he’d been swimming I wouldn’t have pinched his clothes and made him climb out of the lake stark n
aked in front of two women – so he had no right to do it to me.

  And the insulting way he’d spoken about me before that, as if I wasn’t a person, but a thing – an object, to be put in its place. ‘That young woman… needs to be taught a lesson… anything less than a strong dose of embarrassment…!’ Well, it would need a stronger dose than that to teach me one of his precious lessons.

  And he must have known there was a good chance I could hear everything he was saying – he just didn’t care. Then, to cap it all, yelling out: ‘Young woman!’ like that. He knew my name – why couldn’t he have used it? I wasn’t any old young woman – I was Eve.

  Yes, Eve – still in the Garden. Eve, who hadn’t even noticed yet that fruit on the tree of knowledge of good and evil was ripening fast…

  The carpet was rolled back again before dinner. But I wasn’t going to watch the dancing tonight. Not because I cared whether he caught me or not, but because I simply didn’t want to watch someone like that. I went to bed early, still angry – and upset.

  While I was cleaning the brass knob on the door of the garden entrance next morning he went past, with Captain Cholmondeley and Mr Brandon – all three in flannels with rolled-up towels under their arms. Off for a swim. Horseface smirked. ‘Good morning, young woman.’ I pretended not to hear. My name was Eve.

  And as if Lord Rothbury’s smirk wasn’t bad enough, Mr Parton came into the billiard room to practise before breakfast, saw me, went bright red – and banged into the door post in his haste to escape. So now I’d upset Mr Parton – thanks to rotten Lord Rothbury. Having decided on such a mean, sneaky trick he could at least have carried it out on his own, instead of forcing poor Mr Parton into being an accomplice.

  Horseface was a couple of minutes behind the others when they came back in. He stopped right in front of me as I was sweeping the corridor. ‘And have you been for a dip today? Haw, haw!’ He brayed.

  I retorted, ‘That was a mean, sneaky thing to dol’

  He smirked. ‘Worth it, though, to discover my little pussy cat has golden-red fur,’ he leant even closer, ‘All over!’