by Tania Crosse
‘Make sure you keep off the flowers,’ Ralph warned, smiling as he bent to ruffle Mercury’s head.
Meg’s mouth fined to a thin line and ignoring his question, she marched on, Mercury catching her up and bounding on ahead. Ralph Hillier could soon be out of her life, just as she’d wished before. So perhaps there was a silver lining to every cloud after all.
Clarissa was alone in the sitting room, and answered Meg’s gentle knock with her usual pleasant welcome. As Meg entered the room, she saw Mrs C was seated in an armchair, an open book on her lap, but she looked up and smiled at her visitor.
‘Meg, dear, what can I do for you?’
Meg went to stand in front of her, her heart in her mouth. She noticed that the book was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Mrs C had told her it was probably her favourite novel of all. And when you were troubled, you sought comfort in things loved and familiar, didn’t you?
‘I…’ Meg began, her resolve failing her for a moment. ‘I wonder if I might speak to you in confidence, please,’ she began nervously.
Mrs C put her book to one side and looked up at her. ‘Of course, my dear. I’m always here to listen, you know that.’
Meg nodded, and gritted her teeth. She still wasn’t sure how Mrs C would take this. ‘I’ve just been talking to Jane,’ she forced herself to continue. ‘She said she overheard you and Mr W talking, and that you’re likely to be selling the estate.’
There, it was said. She watched the expression on Mrs C’s face tighten and then sadden. The kindly woman put out a hand. Wearily.
‘Oh, Meg, you mustn’t think—’
But Meg didn’t let her finish. ‘Mrs C, I know it’s not my place, but that doesn’t really matter now. It’s just that, well, I know how you love this place, and if it helps you to keep it, please can I make some suggestions? As a servant, I’ve maybe seen more behind the scenes than you have, if you’ll forgive me. I heard Tabitha grumbling about the long hours and the fact that it’s so quiet here. I think she’s applied for a job in a shop in Tunbridge Wells, so she must be thinking of leaving. If she does, if a few corners were cut, I reckon Esme could manage without her. That’d be one less lot of wages to pay. And I have some suggestions with the farm side of things, as well. The sheep don’t really serve much purpose other than keeping the grass down. So if we dispense with them and gather the hay instead, and maybe plant flatpoles and mangolds and suchlike, we wouldn’t need to buy winter fodder for the cows. It wouldn’t look so pretty as you come up the drive and it’d mean a lot more hard work, but it’d save a lot of money. And I reckon we could sell the goats as well. Of course, on the other hand…’
Her breath caught in her throat, but this was it. She braced herself, forcing herself to continue. ‘If you don’t like that idea, I’m sure Ralph could go back to looking after the animals if most of the flower beds were grassed over. Then you could dispense with me, and you wouldn’t have my wages to pay, or my board. But if I can just sleep here until I can find myself a job somewhere else, I’d be more than grateful.’
She’d noted that Mrs C had been listening to her intently, and now she waited for a reply. Her heart was endeavouring to escape from her ribcage. She knew she’d spoken out of turn, but what did it matter if she might be having to leave soon anyway? If her suggestions might have helped, her speaking out would have been worth it.
Mrs C, though, nodded pensively, and it seemed an eternity before she spoke. ‘It’s very good of you to have given the matter such thought,’ she said at length. ‘I had no idea anyone had overheard our conversation. Does anyone else know?’
‘I don’t think so, no. And I told Jane to keep quiet about it.’
‘Well, thank you for that. It’s true that Wig and I were having a serious discussion earlier, and we’ve come to a decision.’ Mrs C tipped her head, gesturing to the chair opposite. ‘But please sit down and let me explain.’
Meg frowned, but did as she was invited. Certainly she didn’t want to leave, but it seemed inevitable that she’d have to. Was that what Mrs C was about to tell her?
‘You’re quite right, of course,’ the lady of the house began a moment later. ‘We do love this house, but it’s not a cheap place to run. And with the knock-on effect of the recession on the factory, well, things have been getting harder and harder. And dear Wig has been putting his hand deeper and deeper into his own pocket to help all the workers he’s had to lay off. But I can truly say it’d break my heart if we had to leave here. You know… I believe I can tell you this in confidence, but…’ Clarissa broke off, her pulse crashing against her temples. She knew Wig wouldn’t approve, but sometimes the agony of bottling it up still ripped her insides apart after all these years. And she wanted oh so much to tell this other Marguerite… Perhaps if she told her half the truth… ‘We came here to get over a tragedy in our lives. To start afresh. And although things didn’t work out exactly as we planned, well, this house means so much to us, and leaving it would be… more than I could stand. So we’ve come up with a better plan. A plan in which you will play an important part. If you will agree, that is.’
‘Me?’ Meg was almost dumbstruck. So, they didn’t want her to leave any more than she wanted to go? She could be staying after all? And what was this tragedy Mrs C had mentioned? But she didn’t feel it was right to pry, and she would certainly never ever mention it to anyone else.
‘Yes, my dear. And I do so hope you’ll be happy to take it on. First of all, dear Mr Yard is going to have to leave us to take care of his ailing spinster sister. We’ll be very sad to lose him. He’s been with the family since before Wig and I were married, and his loyalty is unfailing. But I believe a good parlourmaid will suffice instead, and that would save us a lot of money. He’s trained you well, and anything you’re unsure about, you’ll only have to ask myself. You’re polite and intelligent and have a very likeable way about you. So I don’t think we could find anyone more suitable. So with that and various other economies, we think we can manage. Especially with what you’re saying about Tabitha as well. But we’d probably have to forget about your training as a lady’s maid. You wouldn’t have time for that as well, because of course you’d still have the animals and the farm to take care of. So, what do you think?’
Meg’s eyes blinked wide. ‘D’you really think I could cope?’
Mrs C nodded. ‘I believe you could cope admirably. So you see, Meg, you have become very dear to us in more ways than one.’
Meg puffed out her cheeks, quite bewildered. A few months ago, she’d come to Robin Hill House resenting its owners with a vengeance. Yet now she was delighted to be able to stay. She felt all topsy-turvy, her emotions in a tangled knot. She scarcely knew what she felt anymore. But what she did know was that a warm tide of relief was flooding through her.
‘So, can I take it that you’re happy to accept?’ Mrs C was asking now. ‘And I’m very interested in what you were saying about managing our land better. It sounds like quite a lot of hard work, but if as you suggest, we cut down on some of the flower beds, Ralph could help.’
Oh, well, Meg sighed to herself, that wouldn’t be so good, having to work more closely with Ralph. But at least she’d have the upper hand, which could be satisfying. ‘If I’m to be parlourmaid as well, I’ll certainly need some help,’ she replied thoughtfully.
‘Well, you’ll only need to act as parlourmaid at meal times and when we have visitors. If you’re busy outside, Mrs Phillips can answer the door to anyone who calls unexpectedly. So, that’s settled then. What a huge relief,’ Mrs C beamed at her. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘Not at all. Thank you,’ Meg replied. Goodness, whatever next, she thought to herself. You never knew what fate had in store for you, did you?
Had she been able to read Clarissa’s thoughts at that moment, she would have been even more astonished. The mistress – not that she thought of herself as such where Meg was concerned – was both relieved and grateful. Her idyllic existence at Robin Hill which had
rescued her from the bottomless pit she’d been falling into after Marguerite’s death was now safe for the foreseeable future at least.
But it wasn’t only that. She’d become more than fond of Meg. She mightn’t have been highly educated in the academic sense, but she had a worldly head on her shoulders. She was sensible and courteous, and possessed an enquiring mind and, above all, integrity. When Clarrie had been discussing the situation with Wig, she’d learnt that the more he’d got to know Meg, the more he felt the same way about her protégée. Meg would be ideal to replace Mr Yard, and what was more, to be perfectly truthful, they both felt that, just like Nana May, she’d become part of the family. That she belonged.
*
‘I don’t see why they chose you!’ Esme snarled viciously. ‘You’ve only been here five bloody minutes.’
Meg stared at her for a brief moment, waiting for the surge of anger in her to subside. Maybe Esme had been there a lot longer than her, but that didn’t mean she was more suited to the position. Meg took a controlled breath, holding Esme’s gaze so steadily before she replied that she noted, with satisfaction, the irritation beginning to show on the other girl’s face.
‘Well, I can’t help it if I was their choice,’ she said coolly. ‘And perhaps it’s because I’m more polite than you and don’t swear every five minutes.’
If looks could kill, Meg would have been struck dead there and then. She’d learnt that Esme didn’t like it when someone stood up to her. Now she could almost see the housemaid’s brain searching for some other attack.
‘And with Tabitha going, I’ll have all her bleeding work to do as well,’ Esme finally goaded, sarcastically emphasising her swearing. ‘I suppose it was your idea not to replace her, and all.’
‘I can hardly tell Mrs C what to do, can I?’ Meg rejoined, trying not to sound smug since she had actually suggested it. ‘We’ll all just have to pull our weight a bit more, won’t we?’
It would have been gratifying to add if we all want to stay in a job. But she wasn’t going to betray Mrs C’s confidence and reveal that without these economies, the house might have been sold and they’d all have been out of work. Instead, she went on, ‘Don’t forget I’ve still got the farm animals to look after as well as being parlourmaid. And we’re going to grow most of the winter fodder for the cows now, which will mean even more work, although Ralph’s going to help with that. And as parlourmaid, I’ll be cleaning the drawing room and the dining room, so at least you haven’t got to do those. I’ll be working round the clock, but I’m not complaining, so I don’t see why you should.’
‘Oh, Miss Goody Two Shoes, aren’t we?’ Esme sneered. ‘Always so upright and correct. I’d watch it if I were you. Your halo’s getting so big, you won’t be able to get through the door soon!’
Esme spun on her heel, stalking off towards the broom cupboard. Well, she’d find a way to get even. If it hadn’t been for her own endeavours to find Nathaniel, the bitch might have robbed her of the only chance of happiness she’d ever have. Because of Meg, she’d nearly lost him. But it wouldn’t be long before Nathaniel was released from prison – with no job to go to and no driving licence either for another four and a half years because of Miss Meg bloody Chandler. But they could put their heads together – and then the fireworks would begin!
*
‘And what, pray tell, is that thing?’ Mrs Phillips demanded, eyeing suspiciously the copper vessel Mr Yard was removing from a small wooden crate.
‘A present from the master,’ Mr Yard announced in his usual inscrutable tone. ‘An electric kettle. He thought that with both Tabitha and myself leaving, it would save some time and effort.’
‘An electric kettle? And what would I be doing with that? What’s wrong with water from the range boiler, or a proper kettle on the range?’ the cook wanted to know.
‘Ah, but sometimes you run out of room on the range. And an electric kettle boils so much more quickly.’
‘Well, you won’t catch me using it,’ Mrs Phillips declared, crossing her arms over her small chest. ‘Dangerous stuff, electricity.’
‘But, Mrs Phillips, we have electric light all over the house,’ Meg chipped in, trying to convince her. ‘We have an electric fridge and an electric iron.’
‘But not a kettle.’ Ada Phillips was adamant. ‘Water and the electric don’t mix. Any fool knows that. I’m surprised at Mr W. Have us all electrocuted, would he?’
‘Now, now, Mrs Phillips, the electricity and the water are completely separate,’ Mr Yard explained patiently. ‘Obviously you don’t immerse the thing in water, and if any water were to get spilt on it, especially the plug, you wouldn’t use it until it was perfectly dry again.’
‘You’d better make sure dopey Jane realises that,’ Esme sneered in an aside so that only Meg heard.
‘Don’t be so nasty,’ Meg hissed back under her breath.
‘Well, I won’t be using it,’ the cook affirmed, not having overheard Esme’s snide remark. ‘Please say thank you to Mr W for me, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a waste of his money.’
‘Oh, come, Mrs P. Let’s at least try it,’ Louise begged, creeping forward with Tabitha. ‘It could be useful for you once Tabby’s gone.’
Meg, too, was curious to see the contraption in action. But as she stepped forward, she could feel Esme’s eyes scorching into her back. Why was it that the older girl took every possible opportunity to attack her, even using her friendship with Jane as a weapon? She’d made it quite clear that she was jealous of Meg’s position in the house, although with the new arrangements, Meg would probably be working harder than her. But was she actually jealous of her friendship with Jane? It was ridiculous. It was Esme who’d shown her hostility from the very start. Meg had never given her any cause to dislike her. So why did she seem to hate her so much?
Maybe Bob was the problem. Bob had, after all, shown Meg a lot of attention from the very start. Could it be that Esme held a torch to Bob, or was it really plain jealousy over Meg’s position in the house? Whatever it was, it made Meg feel very uncomfortable indeed. For what other tricks would Esme have up her sleeve? If only it were Esme leaving rather than Tabitha, Meg would have felt a whole lot happier!
Her problems over the spiteful housemaid were, however, put aside as a few days later they prepared a leaving party for Mr Yard. Mrs Phillips couldn’t stop herself from grumbling about the extra work, but Meg was sure she could see a little tear collecting in the cook’s eye as she rolled out pastry and prepared the filling for his favourite pie. The do was meant to be for Tabitha as well, but everybody knew it was really to thank Mr Yard for all his many years of devoted service.
‘You remember everything I’ve taught you, young Meg, and you’ll be all right,’ he said as the entire household filed out to see him off the following morning.
‘And I hope your sister gets better soon,’ she replied, feeling a little lump rising in her own throat.
‘Sadly, I believe there is little hope of that,’ Mr Yard told her. ‘But thank you anyway. You’re a good girl. You’ll go far in life.’
He turned away to bid a final farewell to his master and mistress and Nana May, and then climbed into the front of the Daimler. Not the back, of course, for that was strictly for the master and mistress! Mr Yard’s two trunks had been taken on ahead, so now he only had to carry a small valise and a briefcase.
Everyone stepped forward to wave as Vic drove the car down the driveway and turned out onto the lane. The ending of an era, Meg couldn’t help thinking. And now a new one would begin. Just like when she had left her home six months before to start a new life at Robin Hill House. But what would the future hold now?
Twenty-Three
Summer 1937
It was 12th May, and His Majesty King George VI was crowned at Westminster Abbey instead of his brother, Edward VIII. After all the turmoil over the abdication, the entire country rejoiced to see the new king on the throne with his queen, the homely Elizabeth, by his si
de, and the little princesses at his feet. Celebrations and street parties were planned in towns and villages everywhere, and just like at Christmas, Clarissa was in the forefront of organising the local festivities.
‘I don’t know, if it’s not one thing, it’s another,’ Mrs Phillips complained as she baked cake after cake and decorated them with red, white and blue icing. But the display of fayre looked unsurpassable as it was packed into hampers to be transported to the village, and Meg thought that the cook looked secretly very proud of her creations.
Spirits were running high and everyone was in joyous mood as they walked into the village to help lay the rows of tables that had been set out on the village green. Up in the sewing room, Meg had helped make some of the bunting that had been strung out between houses and trees in the village centre and now fluttered gently in the breeze. Preparations had been going on for weeks, and everyone was bursting with excitement on the day.
It all went too fast, though. After eating as much as they could, watching a Punch and Judy show, and playing organised games on the green – and roaring with laughter as they watched their parents in the grown-up games as well – a hundred or more little ones were finally taken home to their beds. The tables were cleared and taken back to their owners’ houses with chairs and stools, and apart from the bunting and some rogue paper napkins that had blown into unseen corners, nobody would have known of the huge party that had gone on there.
In the village hall, however, a dance was taking place for the grown-ups. Mr W, Mrs C and Nana May had decided to go back to Robin Hill, the ladies exhausted and Mr W never fussed about dancing anyway. Mrs Phillips had gone with them, and Meg wondered if she didn’t secretly miss Mr Yard, so recently departed. But all the other members of staff were ready to dance into the small hours.