Eve

by Beverley Hughesdon

  I snapped, ‘I’m not your “pussy cat” – I’m Eve.’ And swept my dust all over his feet. He jumped smartly out of the way. ‘But your breakfast apples were obviously sour this morning, eh?’ He was off. That just showed how ignorant he was – it didn’t say ‘apple’ in the Bible, only ‘fruit.’

  Yes, I was so sure I knew it all – yet I couldn’t even recognise a serpent when I met one in the corridor!

  But once fortified by my bacon and eggs I decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself – and start plotting revenge. If he was going to keep calling me a cat, then I’d jolly well behave like one. I went in search of Billy, and he promised to supply what I needed.

  After supper that evening I crept up to Horseface’s bedroom, pulled back the covers of his bed, and arranged my present neatly on the undersheet, just where it would collide with his bare feet. It wasn’t quite as big as I’d have liked, but it was a respectable-sized rat, nonetheless. The only problem was that it had a nasty gash on its neck, which rather gave its current condition away. So I rushed upstairs for my needle and thread and sewed the two edges together. Better, but it still flopped a bit. Opening my needle case once more I put a stitch through its tail and a couple more over its paws, until it was firmly attached to the mattress. By the time I’d finished it looked pretty convincing, though I do say it myself. I tucked in the covers, arranging them so they looked just the same as usual, and then slipped back downstairs. Billy was in the servants’ hall when I put my head round the door. He looked up with raised eyebrows; nodding, I winked at him. He grinned. I felt much more cheerful when I went to bed that night.

  I was firm with Mr Parton in the billiard room next day. ‘Dinna ye gang away the noo, – I’d like tae listen tae ye playing.’ He even managed a stuttered word or two in reply to my remarks. Horseface, I didn’t see – though as I made his bed I noticed my rat had disappeared – and the sheets had been changed, by Mr Wilkins, presumably.

  I still hadn’t seen him by tea time; I began to get concerned – surely Mr Wilkins hadn’t spotted some disarrangement of the covers, and undone all my good work before Horseface went to bed? Then Glad came to find me. ‘Lord Rothbury wants a word with you, Eve – summat about his sheets being wrinkled. You not been doing your work properly?’ She looked smug about that, then added, ‘He’s just going out for a ride, so he’s down by the back door now – don’t keep him waiting.’

  I didn’t. I was off along that passageway as if shot from Billy’s catapult. He was in full riding gear, leaning casually against the door frame with his tan leather gloves and silver-mounted crop swinging from one large hand. The other was thrust deep into the pocket of his breeches.

  I bobbed. ‘Did ye want tae see me, ma lord?’

  ‘Yes, Eve – I rather think I do.’ I smiled; he knew my name now. He continued,

  ‘I wanted to consult you about the curious case of the rat in my bed.’

  Widening my eyes, and looking straight up into his, I asked innocently, ‘Did it bite ye?’

  ‘Fortunately it had already been dispatched before deposit.’

  I said, ‘Must’ve been a cat, then, ma lord.’

  ‘Mm, I did wonder if it might be – a swimming cat, perhaps?’

  Still innocent I asked, ‘Do cats swim, then?’

  ‘I don’t know – perhaps you can enlighten me on that one?’

  I couldn’t resist the invitation and without thinking informed him, ‘Tigers swim.’ Then remembering I added hastily, ‘So I did hear, once. So I daresay as cats can, tae.’

  ‘I wonder – if they can sew, as well?’

  I decided to preserve a discreet silence on that one. ‘I really couldna say, ma lord.’

  He smiled, a wide, teeth-baring smile, which made him look a bit like a tiger himself. Yes, he really was like a tiger – large, and very well-muscled — Thinking that made me slow to react to what he was saying next. ‘You know, I’m pretty sure they do sew – since the one that visited my room last night appears to have dropped its needlecase on the floor under my bed.’ When his words finally registered I had to clamp my jaw to stop it dropping – surely I hadn’t been so stupid? His smile was like a hungry tiger’s now as he went on, ‘I daresay Mrs Salter will be able to locate the owner if I consult her about it later.’ He turned, and walked off in the direction of the stables, whistling. I spun round and ran for the back stairs.

  He must have been bluffing, he must. I was sure I hadn’t been so careless as to leave any evidence in his room – By now I was up in my own bedroom tipping my drawers upside down, crawling across the floor, peering under chest and bed – it wasn’t there.

  I rushed along the corridor and ran down the stairs to the bachelors’ wing. There was no-one about. Cautiously, I opened his bedroom door and peered in – there it was, still under the bed. Darting forward I picked it up – but it was just a folded piece of blue card. I stared at it, stupidly – and heard the door close behind me.

  ‘Well well, so the little puss cat came back to retrieve her belongings.’ Trapped. Even worse, I’d let myself be deliberately lured into the trap, since he’d clearly never intended going to the stables at all. Now, he slowly drew my blue needlecase out of the left-hand pocket of his breeches and held it high. Squinting up against the light he read out the embroidered letters: ‘E,V,E.’

  ‘That doesna prove—’

  ‘Don’t tell me it must belong to,’ he raised his voice to a squeaky Scots falsetto, ‘“Some other maid called Eve, ma lord,” because I’ve made enquiries and there is no other maid called “Eve”.’

  Enquiries – Glad! That smug expression – and her voice had been just a little too casual. Trapped twice over. No, three times – because I knew now I hadn’t dropped that needlecase – she’d sneaked it from my room for him. Rotten cow.

  I looked over at where he stood, measuring the distance – he shook his head. ‘Oh no, you won’t escape your just desserts this time, young Eve.’

  ‘Ye wouldna really take it to Mrs Salter – would ye?’

  ‘Would you prefer me not to?’

  I relaxed slightly. I hadn’t really thought he would, but – ‘Aye, I would prefer ye not tae. In fact, I’d prefer ye tae give it back tae me, the noo, seeing as it’s mine – and I didna leave it on the floor.’

  ‘Circumstantial evidence is against you, I’m afraid – and that evidence is in my possession.’ And he was between me and the door. He smiled. ‘You really are going to have to pay that forfeit, young Eve.’

  ‘What forfeit?’

  ‘You know what forfeit.’ He was almost purring now.

  ‘A kiss?’

  ‘Oh, several kisses this time, I think. Gave me a nasty shock, finding a huge rat in my bed. Now, had it been a slender ginger pussy cat, things would have been quite different!’ He laughed.

  Surely he hadn’t expected me to hide in his bed? Just in case, I warned him,

  ‘A ginger cat would’ve scratched you!’

  ‘Would she – really?’ He began to move towards me.

  Suddenly he was huge – as big as a tiger, and a lot more frightening. I spoke quickly, to divert him. ‘It wasna a big rat – only a middling-sized one.’

  He paused in his movement forward. ‘No doubt Scottish rats are bigger.’

  ‘Harbour rats, they surely are – they feed on the fish guts – stink, they dae, but the rats like ’em, and gobble ’em up.’

  ‘How very fascinating – but I think we’re forgetting the point at issue. I possess your needlecase,’ he held it up, ‘You want it back – so you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’ He smirked. ‘Not such a hardship, is it?’ His voice dropped to a husky murmur. ‘Come here.’

  I didn’t move, but he did. He was awfully big – and so sure he’d won. I said, ‘A’richt, I will kiss ye – but can I no have ma case back first, please?’

  ‘Come here, then – I’ll put it in your pocket.’ Moving a little nearer I swung my hip out to him. He slid the case in – and lef
t his fingers there, in my pocket. They began to stroke my hip with a firm, even pressure – and there was a sound in his throat that was like a purr – a tiger, purring. Slowly his fingers withdrew – and slid down on to my thigh.

  All at once I began to panic. Only just managing to keep my voice level, I said, ‘We’re tae close tae the window – I wouldna want anybody tae see me in your room, at this time o’ day, an’ ye here wi’ me—’

  ‘Fair enough.’ He moved. And I moved too – in the opposite direction. ‘Hey!’ At the door I turned, brave again now that I was safe. ‘Ye’ll have tae try harder’n that to catch me, ma lord!’ And then I was off again along the corridor, heading for the safety of the back stairs.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Once I was downstairs again I felt rather ashamed of myself, panicking like that. He’d only been talking about kissing, for goodness’ sake. And since I never had kissed anyone before it would have been interesting to give it a try. Except that if I’d agreed to do it, upstairs just now, it would have meant that he’d won – and I couldn’t have that. Anyway, I could always kiss him next time he asked me to. And I was sure he would.

  There was dancing again that evening. I caught a glimpse of Horseface, already twirling Miss Ames round in a waltz, so I could have risked staying to watch.

  But I decided not to bother, my turn would come on Monday. Besides, I felt quite tired, so I went to bed early instead – and lay there enjoying the pleasing sensation that honours were now even between myself and Lord Rothbury. Alright, he’d caught me out at the lake, but in the end it hadn’t been that embarrassing – it was only been him and Mr Parton, after all. It wasn’t as if it had been Lord Ernest or Captain Cholmondeley. Not that it would have been, they weren’t sharp enough to have worked out where I’d hidden my clothes. Horseface was a clever, you’d got to give him that – and he’d admitted the same about me – that I was a smart girl. I smiled into the darkness. You didn’t mind being beaten to a draw by a worthy foe. And by now I’d decided that Horseface wasn’t really a foe – he just enjoyed playing games, like I did.

  Sunday: we processed to church in our bonnets, and at the end of the service filed out again to bob to our betters. The afternoon was cold and rainy, but I couldn’t have gone swimming anyway, so I turned up in our sitting room in good time for tea – and reaped the reward for my punctuality by discovering the arrangements for the following day. Apparently the concert was to start in the late afternoon, and would be over in time for the family to partake of their dinner – a mere three courses – during the serving of which the gardeners would help Thomas move the furniture and roll up both of the hall carpets.

  At 9.00 p.m. on the dot the ball would waltz off to an appropriately stately start with Mr Taylor escorting her ladyship on to the dance floor, while his lordship took the hand of Mrs Salter. But apparently the elder nobs only lent their lustre to the revels for the first half hour or so, before departing to boudoir and smoking room respectively. Then at half time, the break for supper, all the young lady nobs removed their dainty dancing slippers from beneath the boots of gardeners and grooms and retreated to the boudoir in their turn – except for Miss Ames. Who was apparently neither as young nor as ladylike as the others. ‘She’s a good sport,’ said Flo from the stillroom, ‘And she plays the fiddle for the hornpipe, too.’

  ‘The hornpipe?’

  It appeared that the second half of the programme kicked off to a lively start with a hornpipe competition for any of the maids who wished to compete. And the winner could claim a kiss from any man in the room. What a prize – fancy winning a kiss from Dr Travers! No-one was going to get ahead of me on this one. As soon as tea was over I rushed upstairs to fetch my breeks, and hid them in the bottom cupboard of the downstairs housemaids’ closet. I was fully prepared for the ball, now.

  Except that I wasn’t. Something so obvious – and I just hadn’t thought of it at all.

  I woke up Monday morning first thing – we could lie in until half past seven tomorrow, because of the ball, but today we had to be up at six, as usual – and rushed downstairs for early morning tea, bursting with excitement – only to be crushed, utterly.

  Glad was talking to Lucy. I was barely listening – too busy thinking of tonight’s dancing – when I caught the words: ‘And to think we’ve got to sit all through that rotten concert in our uniforms – she won’t let us put our glad rags on till just before the dance.’

  Glad’s glad rags! I started to giggle, then it hit me. I blurted out, ‘You mean – we have to get changed? We don’t wear our uniforms for the ball?’

  ‘Course we don’t – even her stuffy old ladyship lets us wear something smart for that.’ Consternation! By now Glad and Lucy were comparing primrose taffeta frills with pink satin flounces – then Norah chipped in with her scarlet velvet and sequins – sequins! And all I’d got to wear was a plain white blouse and my black serge Sunday skirt. Dr Travers and Lord Rothbury would never dance with me now. Well, Dr Travers might, because he was a very kind man – but only because he’d be feeling sorry for me, and the rest of the time I’d have to sit out…

  I put my cup down and trailed off to the housemaids’ closet. I’d sooner get on with the sweeping than stay there listening to everyone else discussing their finery.

  I left the billiard room until last. I was only going to clean the grate for now, because the gardeners were coming in during breakfast to move out the heavy table, and then I’d have to give the whole room a good going-over for the concert tonight. Tonight – oh, and I’d been looking forward to it so much!

  I was just spreading the hessian sheet out to protect the carpet when Mr Parton turned up with his music. ‘Good morning, Eve – are you looking forward to this evening’s festivities?’

  That was too much for me. I burst out, ‘I’ve nae clothes that’ll dae for a party – I come straight frae the gutting, ye see.’

  ‘Oh dear, I am so sorry.’ It was nice to have some sympathy, but – we looked at each other helplessly. Then he added, ‘Lord Rothbury will be along shortly – we’re rehearsing for tonight – perhaps he’ll be able to think of a solution to your problem.’ I wasn’t hopeful. Horseface might be smart, but he could hardly produce a frock for me out of his top hat. Especially not when I hadn’t even kissed him.

  I knelt down by my box, pulled the sieve drawer out and began to shovel in the ash and cinders. Just then we heard two pairs of footsteps in the corridor.

  I looked up, hopefully. Dr Travers strode through the door, closely followed by Lord Rothbury, who explained, ‘Will decided to come along, too – so we can run through that duet of ours.’ He glanced down at me, and my sieve. ‘Ah, it’s good to see Cinderella busy at her legitimate tasks, for once.’

  Mr Parton turned to him. ‘As it happens, Eve Gunn here has a similar problem to that of Cinderella. She wishes to go to the ball this evening, but since she came straight from the herring gutting she has very little luggage with her.’ I broke in, ‘So I’ll nae be able to put one single rag on ma back tonight!’

  Horseface retorted, ‘Spendid! Then I’m sure you’ll be the belle of the ball!’

  He brayed.

  I just looked at him. I suppose I had hoped – ‘Well, I’d best be on with ma work.’ I pushed the shovel under the grate again.

  Dr Travers’ voice was reproving. ‘That was not a helpful remark, Monty old fellow.’ He turned to me, ‘Now, Eve – surely one of the other maids will lend you a pretty frock to wear?’

  My reply was gloomy. ‘I doubt it – an’ they’ll be wearing ’em theirselves. In any case—’

  Lord Rothbury finished for me, ‘They wouldn’t fit – she towers over the other girls. A regular consumption of Scottish herrings obviously promotes growth in young females.’ He neighed.

  I muttered under my breath, ‘Ye’re nae sa short yerself.’ But my heart wasn’t in it today.

  Dr Travers persisted. ‘I’m sure if we all put our thinking caps on—’

/>   And Lord Rothbury exclaimed, ‘I’ve got it – the pirate’s chest!’

  Dr Travers said, ‘Of course – just the thing!’

  Mr Parton squeaked, ‘You’re a genius, old fellow.’

  Lord Rothbury spun round to face me. ‘You shall go to the ball, Cinderella – we three will play the part of your fairy godmother!’ He grinned, ‘But only with regard to your attire – since you won’t require a pumpkin and you’re obviously quite capable of providing your own coachman rats!’

  I blushed, before asking, ‘But surely pirates don’t wear ball dresses?’

  All three of them burst out laughing. Then Dr Travers explained kindly, ‘It’s simply the Wenlock Court name for the dressing-up box.’ I was still no wiser, and realising, he continued, ‘It contains discarded garments of a festive type, for use in charades, or pantomines. I’m sure we’ll find something in it to suit you.’

  Lord Rothbury smiled at me. ‘So your worries really are over.’ The relief!

  It was lucky I was already on my knees, or they’d have given way beneath me.

  Dr Travers added, ‘Naturally, we’ll have to ask Lady Lydham’s permission.’ My heart sank again as he turned to Lord Rothbury. ‘Monty, I’d like a quick rehearsal with Fred before our duet, would you mind—?’

  ‘Right, I’ll go and see if I can find Lilias, she usually runs up to the nursery at this time of the morning.’ He left.

  Dr Travers had obviously noticed my doubtful expression. He said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure Lord Rothbury will be able to persuade his cousin.’

  I was surprised. ‘Is he a cousin, too – as well as you?’

  He replied kindly. ‘Lord Rothbury’s mother was sister to Lady Lydham’s mother.’

  ‘So ye and he are related,’ then I thought again, ‘No, not by blood.’

  ‘As it happens, we are. My grandmother was a sister of Lord Rothbury’s grandmother, so that makes us—’

  I finished, ‘Second cousins – not removed!’

  ‘Exactly so.’ He grinned. I told him, ‘It’s just like in H—’ I amended hastily, ‘The village whaur I come frae in Scotland. Everbody’s related tae everybody else.’ Except me, of course – I was only about eighteenth cousin, thrice removed. I turned to Mr Parton. ‘Are ye related, too?’