Emily

by Valerie Wood

  He lifted her bag down from the trap when they reached the Market Place and then put his hand up to help her down. ‘Wilt tha give us a kiss then, Emily?’ he grinned, keeping his hand on her waist. ‘Just this once.’

  ‘All right,’ she agreed and put her cheek towards him. But she gave him a sharp push away when he sought her mouth with his and she felt his slippery tongue in her mouth. ‘Stop it!’ She slapped his arm. ‘You’re horrid!’

  He laughed and smacked her rear. ‘No I’m not! Tha’ll get worse than that from ’fellows in Hull, so don’t think tha won’t!’

  She turned away, her cheeks burning with shame. Poor Jane, she thought, if he’s the man she wants to marry!

  It was the middle of the afternoon when she arrived in Hull and the carrier deposited her at the Black Swan in Mytongate, from where she walked to the Market Place. She had expected the town to be busy, but she hadn’t expected such a cacophony of noise, of people shouting, of traders calling their wares, of dogs barking, and the rattle and jingle of harness from the horses which clip-clopped down the cobbled road pulling carts, traps and coaches. She asked the way to Parliament Street, where Mrs Purnell, the cousin of Mrs Francis, had her home.

  ‘Cut across by Holy Trinity Church, love, then down Whitefriargate and then you’re there,’ said the woman she asked. ‘No more’n a couple o’ minutes.’ She looked Emily up and down. ‘You from ’country? A servant lass?’

  ‘Yes. I’m going to Mrs Purnell,’ she volunteered, thinking that as in the country everyone would know who was who. ‘Is it always busy like this?’

  The woman laughed. ‘This is nowt! You should see it in a morning. Can’t move for folk. Listen,’ she bent towards Emily, ‘tek care. There’s allus somebody on lookout for a green lass like yourself. Not that I suppose you’ll get out much if you’re working for posh folks like them in Parliament Street. They’ll want their pound o’ flesh, I don’t doubt.’

  She waved a cheery goodbye and Emily, feeling heartened by her friendly manner, pressed on the way she had been told. Parliament Street was a street of tall houses with scrubbed white steps leading up to doors with shining brassware, just off the main thoroughfare of Whitefriargate, which was filled with busy shops. She stopped to look at the hats and gowns, the embossed silks and cottons which were displayed, at the shoes and boots made from the softest leather and then looked down at her own clumsy boots, her flannel skirt and shirt and her thick wool shawl. I’ll never be able to afford any of these things, she mused, but at least I can look. I have never, ever seen such things before.

  She looked at the piece of paper in her hand to check the number of the house and then walked down to the end of Parliament Street to find the rear entrance. There was a cramped, narrow passageway behind the houses with a high wall bordering another building, and after checking the number again she opened a gate into a small yard, went down the steps to the kitchen door and rang the bell.

  ‘So why did you see fit to leave Mrs Francis’s employ?’ Mrs Purnell, a stout, rather jolly-looking woman, with several wobbly chins which escaped from the strings of her silk cap, interviewed Emily herself. She was nothing at all like her aloof relation, Mrs Francis. She wore a magnificent gown of ruched maroon silk which emphasized her size and spread all over the sofa on which she sat drinking tea.

  ‘It was thought best, ma’am. Miss Deborah had taken a fancy to me and wanted me by her side all of the time. It was difficult to do my work.’

  ‘And I suppose she had a tantrum if she couldn’t have you with her, was that it?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I see that this letter which was sent ahead of you comes from Mr Francis, not my cousin. Why is that, do you think?’ She stared from small brown eyes at Emily.

  It was rather strange, Emily agreed, but she answered, ‘I didn’t see much of Mrs Francis, ma’am. I – I don’t think she was well, and Mr Francis gave me employment in the first place,’ she added.

  ‘Hm. Well, I wouldn’t be in good health either if I’d had a son and daughter like hers.’ She considered Emily. ‘Turn around, girl, let me have a look at you.’

  Emily swivelled slowly around for inspection.

  ‘You’re young and your clothes are dreadful,’ Mrs Purnell commented. ‘But you’re neat and your manners are good, so I suppose I can soon shape you. I’ll give you a month’s trial and see how you fare. My other maid had to leave – got into trouble with some fellow.’ She shook her finger at Emily. ‘I’m quite lenient, but I don’t stand for that kind of thing, not with my servants. Still,’ she continued to gaze at Emily, ‘you’re too young yet for that sort of behaviour. Be a good girl and I’m sure we’ll get on.’

  ‘You’re rather young for a lady’s maid,’ Mrs Anderson the housekeeper sniffed, on being told she was to be employed. ‘And why ’mistress has to choose country girls, I really don’t know. They don’t know ’first thing about style or fashion. Can you sew?’ she said abruptly.

  ‘Yes.’ Emily was apprehensive. The atmosphere in this kitchen was quite different from the one at Elmswell Manor, which was ruled by Mrs Castle and Mrs Brewer in a strict but fair manner. Here Cook lazed by the fire with a glass of ale in her hand and her table was littered with cooking utensils which no-one was attempting to clear. ‘I have to do general work as well,’ she explained. ‘Mrs Purnell said so, until I’m properly trained.’

  Mrs Anderson seemed pacified by this and took Emily to the top of the house, where she was shown into a boxlike room beneath the eaves. ‘This is where the other maid slept, it’s ’only room left so it’s no use complaining.’

  I wasn’t going to, Emily thought. There doesn’t seem much point. The bed was narrow and pushed up against the wall, leaving just enough room for a small chest of drawers on which there was a jug and bowl for washing and a candle holder with a stub of candle in it; above the bed was an embroidered text with the words: ‘A Servant Girl’s Prayer. Dear Lord, make me Chaste and Penitent. Make me Obedient and Dutiful to my Master’s Wishes and Desires. Amen.’

  ‘Do I share with anyone?’ she asked, hoping the answer would be no. There was hardly room for one let alone two people.

  ‘No. This is yours, so keep it clean and tidy. And no visitors allowed, especially not male!’ She lowered her voice. ‘I don’t believe in maids having a room to themselves. It’s better that they share, then there’s always somebody who knows what they’re getting up to.’

  Emily stared uncomprehendingly. ‘I’m very tidy,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know anybody who would call.’

  Mrs Anderson turned to leave. ‘Not yet you don’t, but you will.’ She stopped and looked again at Emily. ‘With that pretty face you’ll soon have a host of admirers, so keep them at arm’s length. Especially ’gentry,’ she added darkly, ‘they’re worse than anybody.’

  There appeared to be only Mrs Purnell living in the house, with a cook, a housekeeper, two kitchen maids and two housemaids, Dolly and Susan, to look after her, and Arnold, who drove the gig when Mrs Purnell went calling and who fetched and carried in a general kind of way. But Mrs Purnell loved to entertain and a constant stream of visitors came for luncheon or supper, when they played backgammon or crib.

  ‘If you think we’re busy now,’ Dolly had commented after an afternoon when Mrs Purnell had entertained six ladies for tea, ‘you wait till Mr Hugo comes home. It’s all parties and dancing, and you should hear ’racket they make. Sometimes even ’neighbours complain.’

  ‘Who’s Mr Hugo?’ Mr Purnell had died some years before. That much Emily knew when Mrs Purnell had described herself as a poor widow. ‘Is he a son?’

  Dolly nodded. ‘He’s gone abroad.’ She’d glanced towards Mrs Anderson and lowered her voice. ‘We don’t know why, but we can guess!’

  ‘Door, Emily!’ The bell on the wall jangled one morning and Emily straightened her cap, smoothed her apron and hurried up the stairs to the door. In the month she had been here, Mrs Anderson now said she preferred Emily t
o answer the door, as she was more likely to look presentable to visitors than either of the other maids, which Emily accepted as a compliment and Dolly and Susan sanctioned as one less chore to be endured.

  She unfastened the latch and opened the door, expecting to greet Mrs Purnell’s usual group of ladies. A tall, slim young man dressed in naval uniform, with thick dark hair and his hat in his hand, stood on the doorstep. ‘Good morning, sir.’ She bobbed her knee.

  ‘Good morning. Is Mr Hugo Purnell at home?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. Mr Hugo is away at present. May I say who called?’

  He rubbed his hand across his chin, where a dark stubble was about to grow into a beard. ‘Philip Linton. I had hoped to see him,’ he murmured. ‘When will he be back, do you know?’

  She shook her head. He seemed rather perplexed, she thought. ‘Mrs Purnell is at home, sir. Would you like me to ask?’

  ‘I would. Thank you.’ He gave her a sudden smile, which changed his sombre expression to a merry one. ‘If Mrs Purnell is not too busy, would you give her my compliments and ask if I might see her?’

  She invited him in and scurried to find Mrs Purnell, who was having coffee alone in her sitting room. ‘Fetch him in,’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s just the man to brighten my morning! He’s so handsome! Didn’t you think he was handsome, Emily?’

  Emily smiled. She was getting used to Mrs Purnell’s odd ways and knew when not to overstep the mark by becoming too familiar.

  ‘Well? Do you think he’s handsome or not? Don’t tell me that you’re still a child and didn’t notice!’

  ‘He is very handsome, ma’am. Very – upright in his bearing.’

  Mrs Purnell chortled. ‘Very upright! Well yes, I suppose he is. That’s because he’s a Trinity House man. Hmph.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘A navy man, just as my Hugo should have been. Go on then, send him in!’

  ‘Mrs Purnell will see you now, sir, if you would like to come through.’ She put out her hand for his hat and her fingers brushed against his. He smiled at her and she gave him a shy smile in return.

  ‘Have you been here long?’ he asked. ‘I don’t remember seeing you before.’

  ‘Just over a month, sir.’ She put his hat on the hall stand and led him to the sitting room. He was handsome, she thought. He’s the first handsome man that I’ve noticed. She felt a prickle on the back of her neck and her cheeks flushed as she felt that his eyes were on her as he walked behind her.

  She opened the door to the sitting room. ‘Mr Philip Linton, ma’am.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘How nice to see you, Philip, and how very handsome in your uniform, but you’ve missed my boy, I’m afraid.’ Mrs Purnell smiled coquettishly at her visitor. ‘He just upped and went a couple of months ago, said he was tired of the dull life here and was going abroad. Italy, I think he said.’

  ‘Oh!’ Philip Linton mouthed his regrets at missing Hugo, but privately he was very annoyed. Hugo owed him money and had vowed he would let him have it by March at the latest. Here they were almost in May and the blackguard had gone. He doubted that he would get it back. Others had lent him money too, he had heard, but they’d never seen it again. ‘I don’t suppose you know when he’ll be back, ma’am?’

  ‘Would he tell his mother! No, I have no idea at all. He will be admiring the treasures of Rome I wouldn’t wonder.’

  And not just the art treasures, Philip mused. He had an eye for other kinds of beauty too, had Hugo Purnell.

  ‘Between you and me,’ Mrs Purnell said indulgently, ‘I think he has gone to escape some young woman’s clutches! He wouldn’t have gone off in such a hurry otherwise. Will you have coffee, Philip?’

  She rang the bell and asked Emily to bring another pot of coffee and a plate of biscuits. ‘Talking of treasures,’ she chatted after Emily had left the room, ‘I think I’ve found one. Such a good girl. It’s so difficult to find staff nowadays and even harder to keep them. Not that young men like you have that problem! Put the tray here by me,’ she said when Emily came back. ‘Your parents,’ she continued, ‘they are well, I trust? And your sisters? They will soon be of marrying age, I suppose.’

  He smiled. ‘Not quite, ma’am. Anna is seventeen, Louise only fourteen. And yes, my parents were well when I last saw them.’

  ‘And what are you doing back in Hull? Not still studying?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I’m taking further navigational examinations next week, then I will be travelling to Portsmouth. I hope to be given orders soon after.’

  ‘Ah!’ She sipped her coffee and gazed at him from above the rim of her cup. ‘Hugo doesn’t owe you money, does he?’

  He hesitated. The loan was between him and Hugo, not his mother, but he needed the money. His pay as a lieutenant was adequate but only just, and though his family would give him a loan if he wanted it, he preferred to be independent and was loath to ask his father to help him out. Besides, he would be given a lecture on lending money to unsuitable friends. Not that Hugo was a particular friend, just someone he had known for a long time.

  ‘How much does he owe you?’ she persisted. ‘Come along, you might as well tell me.’

  ‘Fifty guineas, ma’am.’

  ‘Fifty guineas! Whatever would he need that kind of money for? He can never have spent his allowance already!’

  Philip didn’t answer. Hugo always had plenty of money when his allowance came, but he spent it. He spent it on gambling, wine and women. He had always spent money, even from the age of ten when he and Philip had first started at Trinity House as young cadets. But Hugo found the studying too arduous and he had had several brushes with the Brethren, mostly over non-attendance or being improperly dressed; he never wore his velvet stock and his uniform of blue tailed dress coat and white stand-up collar was usually crumpled or dirty; his tall beaver hat was battered and dusty having been kicked around on the way to school and he constantly missed church parade on a Sunday. He only just scraped into the upper school and eventually he was called before the headmaster and asked to leave, whereas Philip finished his schooling in marine science and was apprenticed to a master mariner to continue his career.

  ‘I wish he’d stayed on at Trinity House,’ Mrs Purnell sighed. ‘I don’t know what he will do with his life. I hope he marries someone rich,’ she added, ‘for his own money won’t last long at the rate he’s spending it!’

  Philip fidgeted. He wished he hadn’t stayed, he had no desire to hear any more about Hugo Purnell and if he never saw his money again, well, so be it.

  ‘You will get your dues, Philip. I will go to the bank this afternoon and arrange a promissory note. Where are your lodgings? I will have it sent round.’

  He thanked her and said she mustn’t trouble herself, he would call again before he left town. But she insisted. ‘I will send Emily,’ she determined. ‘Say no more about it!’

  Later that afternoon, Emily took off her white cap and apron, put on her cloak and bonnet and looked in the mirror. She was quite pleased with what she saw. Mrs Purnell supplied her maids with black skirts, crisp white blouses, and a grey cloak and bonnet, and Emily felt she looked very presentable. She held the package firmly in her hand, for Mrs Purnell had emphasized most strongly that it was very important and must not be lost or mislaid on any account, and set off to find Mr Linton’s lodgings in a terrace just off Savile Street, which was situated, she had been told, at the side of the New Dock.

  It was a soft, warm afternoon and Emily thought ruefully of how lovely it would be in the countryside that she had left. The young fledglings will be starting to fly, the perfume of the bluebells will be everywhere, and oh, she thought, the frogspawn will be floating like jelly in all the dykes and ditches. She remembered how she and her young friends used to gather it in a bucket to take home and watch the tadpoles turn into frogs. Though she was fairly well settled in Mrs Purnell’s employ, she missed not having a garden or meadows to look at and she missed the clean sharp air of the river bank.

  She didn’
t know the area in which she was now living, as, apart from one or two occasions when she had been sent out to buy ribbons and cottons from the nearby shops in Whitefriargate, she hadn’t had the opportunity to explore. I’ll deliver the message safely, she mused, and then, because Mrs Purnell is out until evening and I won’t be needed, I’ll have a little look around.

  ‘Afternoon, miss. Nice day!’ A man standing on the bridge over Junction Dock, greeted her.

  She nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, lovely,’ she agreed, and walked on. Mustn’t talk to anybody strange, she thought. At least not until I have delivered the message. She changed the package from one hand to another, it seemed to be burning a hole in her palm, she held it so tightly, and she wondered vaguely what was in it.

  She saw the huge dock as she crossed towards Savile Street and the mass of ships’ masts and rigging, and heard the clatter and ring of porters’ sleds as they unloaded cargo. She smelt also the strong odour of blubber and wrinkled her nose, for this was a whaling town and the products of the whale kept the whole town and its industry prosperous.

  She hesitated as she determined her directions, then crossed over the street to where she could see a narrow terrace of houses. ‘Are you lost, miss?’ Another man spoke to her and she shook her head and hurried on. She didn’t like the look of him. He was scruffily dressed with a scraggy beard and a woollen hat pulled over his head. She turned into the terrace, for this was the one she wanted, and looked up at the house doors for the right number. Then, startled, she half-turned as she felt a rough hand around her wrist, the package was snatched from her hand and she was given a blow to her shoulder, which sent her sprawling to the ground.

  Philip put down the book he was studying and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. He yawned and stretched and got to his feet. Mrs Purnell had promised to send the promissory note that afternoon but hadn’t said what time. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long as he had business of his own to attend to. He walked to the window and looked out and saw the young maid, whom Mrs Purnell had described as a treasure, turn the corner and look up at the houses as if looking for a number.