But if that was what Henry King wanted with the girl, Blanche Wood supposed that it was better the girl went to Henry’s mother than stay here. At least there it would not be so easy for him to visit her room during the night, as he sometimes did her own. She could think of no other reason why he was being so kind. She knew better than most that Henry King was not a generous man by nature, so why else this sudden interest in a girl who was way below him in class? With a last disdainful look at the girl, she flounced out of the room.
Shortly after, Opal once again found herself in Henry’s carriage as it rattled its way to his mother’s house. She supposed she should be feeling excited at the prospect of her new job, but all she could feel was despair because nothing could ever replace the family that had been so cruelly snatched away from her.
Eventually they turned into the drive of Hollow’s House again. Never in her wildest dreams had Opal ever imagined she would live in such a place, even as a servant.
‘Here we are then,’ Henry said jovially. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ll settle in in no time and I shall look forward to you telling me how you are getting on when I visit my mother.’
Feeling guilty that she didn’t feel more enthusiastic about the opportunity he had given her, Opal managed a weak smile as he helped her down from the carriage. Instead of telling her to go round to the servants’ entrance, Henry led her into the hallway through the front door.
‘Wait here a moment, m’dear,’ Henry said, as he handed his hat to a maid. ‘I’ll just go and inform my mother of what’s happened and then you can get settled in. I’ve no doubt Belle here will already have your room ready for you.’
The young maid blushed and dropped a curtsey, hardly able to believe the change in Mr King. He was usually very rude to her and the rest of the servants, but today he seemed quite jovial.
While Opal waited, she and the young maid eyed each other curiously.
‘I’m Belle,’ the girl ventured eventually.
‘I’m Opal Sharp, but please call me Opal.’
‘Well, I’d be happy to, but I doubt the mistress will allow me to address you by your first name,’ the girl whispered. ‘She’s a stickler for everything being just so, but just between you and me she isn’t as hard as she makes out.’
‘Have you worked here long?’ Opal asked.
‘Since I was fourteen,’ Belle confided. ‘So that’s over two years now.’
Opal smiled. She had the feeling that they were going to get along, but she had no time to say more because Henry reappeared at that moment.
‘Take Miss Sharp up to the room adjoining the mistress’s, Belle,’ he ordered. Then, turning back to Opal, he informed her, ‘My mother says she has had a variety of gowns laid out on your bed for you. They are only some of the ones that have belonged to various other maids but she says they will suit until she can get you some new ones made. If they don’t fit then I am afraid you will have to alter them as best you can. I’m sure young Belle here will help. My mother tells me she is quite a dab hand when it comes to sewing. But now I must be off – duty calls. Goodbye for now, my dear.’
Belle hurried to fetch his hat for him and once he had put it on, he gave a little bow and left.
‘Phew, I don’t know why but he allus makes me nervous,’ Belle confided. ‘But come on, I’ll show you to yer room. I got it ready for yer meself this mornin’, though I’m afraid the fire in there ain’t been lit yet cos we weren’t expectin’ yer till tomorrow. Still, it’s all laid ready so I’ll only have to put a match to it.’
‘I could quite easily do it myself,’ Opal told her, feeling embarrassed. She wasn’t used to being waited on and had always had to do things like that for herself.
Opal followed her up the rather splendid sweeping staircase, admiring the numerous gilt-framed portraits and landscapes they passed. It was like entering another world after what she had been used to, and once again she wondered if she was overreaching herself; Mrs King was clearly a very wealthy woman. At the top of the stairs, Belle led her down a long corridor; Opal’s feet sank into the deep-pile carpet as she stared around at the fancy, spindly-legged chairs and ornate tables that were positioned along the walls.
Finally, Belle stopped outside a door. ‘This will be your room, miss.’
‘Oh please, call me Opal!’
Belle smiled. ‘I might risk it when I’m on my own but as I said, I wouldn’t dare do that in front of the mistress. She’s already instructed all the staff to address you as Miss Sharp. As her companion you’re above us in rank, see?’
Opal didn’t see at all, but she said nothing as she followed the girl into a bedroom that almost took her breath away.
‘Th-this can’t be my room!’ she gasped.
‘It is, an’ that door there leads into the mistress’s room. Her last companion slept in ’ere so she were close at ’and should the mistress need anythin’.’
Belle hurried to the grate and struck a match to the fire, giving Opal the chance to have a good look around. There was a tall wardrobe made of rosewood, polished to such a shine that she could see her face in it, and beside it was a matching chest of drawers. In the deep bay window was a small desk and chair, next to which was a very handsome marble-topped washstand with a pretty china jug and bowl standing on it. On the floor, another luxurious carpet stretched almost wall to wall. But the centrepiece of the room was a beautiful four-poster bed. The velvet drapes around it exactly matched the heavy blue curtains hanging at the windows that gave a glorious view over the well-maintained grounds.
‘Why . . . it’s just beautiful!’ she gasped.
Belle grinned. ‘It is, ain’t it,’ she agreed enviously. ‘An’ a damn sight warmer than my room up in the attics. I don’t mind tellin’ you up there it’s freezin’ cold in winter an’ stiflin’ hot in summer. Still, I suppose I shouldn’t complain, really. At least Mrs King keeps a good table an’ none of us ever goes ’ungry. But let’s look at these clothes now, eh? I dare say the mistress will expect you to dine with her tonight so she’ll want yer lookin’ respectable. No offence intended,’ she added hastily, as she glanced at Opal’s well-worn clothes.
Side by side they approached the garments laid out on the bed and, for the first time since arriving, Opal smiled. Used servants’ dresses they may have been, but they were far better than anything she had ever owned and she could barely wait to try them on.
‘This one might fit yer,’ Belle told her, holding up a navy-blue muslin gown. It was very plain but beautifully made with not a single darn in it – a first for Opal. ‘Come on, try it on an’ if it don’t fit I might have time to alter it for you before you go into dinner this evenin’.’
Opal obediently stripped down to her plain cotton chemise and Belle lowered the dress over her head and started to do up the tiny pearl buttons that ran all up the front of it from the waist. It was long-sleeved and high-necked and designed for an older lady, but Opal felt wonderful in it and gave a little twirl. The top half was actually quite a good fit, although it was fractionally too long.
‘’Ere, put some o’ these petticoats on underneath it; that’ll lift it a bit,’ Belle suggested.
She was right, and as Opal turned to look in the long cheval mirror, she hardly recognised herself.
‘I reckon this belonged to the mistress’s last companion,’ Belle told her. ‘I can remember her wearin’ it. She was a lot older than you, but to be honest it still suits yer. With your looks, anything would.’
Opal stared at herself in the mirror, barely able to drag her eyes away from the image. The material was so soft and she suddenly felt very grand.
‘Now, let’s see if any o’ these shoes I sorted from the boot room will fit yer. No disrespect but them old boots yer wearin’ are almost droppin’ off yer feet.’
Belle began to search through a pile of shoes and dainty leather boots. ‘’Ere, try these,’ she urged and Opal was only too happy to oblige. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be as bad living here as
she had thought. Unfortunately, the shoes were far too big and flapped about on her feet, but eventually they found a pair of soft leather ones that fit as if they had been made for her.
‘They were the mistress’s,’ Belle said as she sat back on her heels to admire them. ‘An’ they certainly look a deal better than the ones yer were wearin’.’
There was a tap at the door and a woman in a grey dress appeared. ‘Ah, here you are, Belle. Cook is asking for you, so you may go about your duties now if Miss Sharp has no further need of you.’ The woman looked at Opal. ‘Welcome to Hollow’s House, Miss Sharp. I am Mrs Deep, the housekeeper, and the mistress requests that you join her in the dining room for dinner promptly at six o’clock; I shall send Belle to show you the way. In the meantime, I shall leave you to settle in.’
Both she and Belle left then and, once alone, Opal smiled as she looked ruefully at the pillowcase containing all her worldly possessions. It wouldn’t take long to put those away. In fact, there were more clothes piled on the bed than she had ever owned in the whole of her life.
Crossing to the wardrobe, she took out some hangers and began to put everything neatly away. Once she had finished, she decided to try the bed out and was delighted to find that she had a feather mattress. She climbed up on to it and lay down – but no sooner had her head hit the pillow than the many sleepless nights she had had caught up with her, and within minutes she was fast asleep.
‘Miss Sharp!’
A knocking on the door brought her springing awake sometime later and she was shocked when she opened her eyes to find that it was dark.
The door inched open, and Belle appeared. ‘It’s quarter to six, miss. An’ the mistress is a stickler for people bein’ on time. Do yer want me to show yer the way to the dining room?’ Belle hustled in and lit the oil lamp.
‘Oh, yes please. I’ll just give my hair a quick tidy up, if you don’t mind.’
Opening a drawer she took out her hairbrush and quickly dragged it through her hair before fastening it at the nape of her neck with a scrap of ribbon. Then after pinching her cheeks to bring a little colour into them she turned to Belle and asked, ‘Will I do?’
Belle smiled and nodded, and with Opal close behind her she led the way downstairs.
‘It’s that door there,’ Belle told her, pointing. ‘Make sure yer knock before goin’ in,’ she said, as she left to fetch the first course.
Opal drew herself up to her full height, tapped on the door and entered to find Mrs King already seated at the head of an enormous mahogany table. It was set at one end for two, and the woman gestured to the seat next to her. As Opal sat down, she stared perplexed at the vast amount of cutlery laid out.
Mrs King smiled. ‘Lesson one. Table manners. When dining, one starts with the cutlery on the outside and works in like so.’ She demonstrated what she meant and Opal nodded. ‘Your soup and dessert spoons will always be positioned here.’ Mrs King demonstrated and again Opal nodded. Having only ever used a knife, fork and spoon, she was finding it all rather confusing. Why did one person need this amount of cutlery, anyway? she wondered. Fancy making all that unnecessary washing up!
Minutes later Belle appeared, carrying a large tureen full of soup that she placed carefully in the centre of the table between them, before serving them both using a silver ladle that gleamed in the light of the candelabra. It was all very grand and again Opal felt sadly out of place.
‘You hold your soup spoon like so and push the spoon away from you in the dish to get it on to the spoon, and of course you must never, ever slurp it. It is so common! Just take dainty little sips.’ Mrs King demonstrated and, after checking that she had picked up the right spoon, Opal followed her example.
The broccoli and Stilton soup was delicious and quite unlike anything Opal had ever tasted before, and she cleared her dish in seconds.
‘Lesson two,’ Mrs King scolded. ‘It is etiquette for a lady to always leave a little in her dish or on her plate.’
Opal flushed as she remembered the way her father had always loved to wipe his plate clean with a slice of bread after a meal, and she wondered what Mrs King would have thought of that? She could only assume that she had never gone hungry like they had, but she wisely didn’t comment.
The second course was a rack of lamb served with seasonal vegetables and creamed potatoes, and it was so tasty that Opal found it hard to leave some on her plate. As far as she was concerned, it was an utter waste of good food, but even so she did as she was told. Finally, the dessert was carried in: a deep apple pie served with thick, creamy custard, and by the time she had finished, Opal was so full she feared she might burst. She had only ever been used to one course before, and then only when she was lucky enough to have anything!
‘And now we shall retire to the drawing room, and you could perhaps read a little to me.’ Mrs King rose from the table, leaning heavily on her ebony-topped stick.
Opal nodded obediently as she followed her. Her new life had begun and there could be no going back now – but then, what was there to go back for?
Chapter Twelve
After months spent incarcerated in a prison near the port, the day Charlie had dreaded finally arrived. Now, under a bright August sun, he shuffled across the dock to the huge ship that would transport the prisoners to Australia, with tears in his eyes as he thought of leaving the family he loved so far behind. He wished with all his heart that he could turn back the clock, and that he had never noticed the wallet lying on the ground – but it was too late for regrets now. What was done was done, and he would forever have to live with the consequences.
Each of the prisoners was shackled with chains on their hands and feet, which made walking difficult; but after being shut away for days in a prison with no daylight, it was a relief just to be outside again.
‘Come on, let’s be ’aving yer, yer motley lot!’ one of the guards barked with a warning crack of his whip, and the men shuffled forward again, sick at heart. Very soon they would be packed into the ship like animals and who knew if they would ever see their homeland again?
Charlie was manhandled up a wooden gangplank and, just for a moment, he managed to glance across his shoulder for a last sight of dry land. A very long journey lay ahead, and from what he had heard from men in the prison, many of the prisoners wouldn’t make it to the colony. Dysentery, typhoid and all manner of other serious illnesses were rampant aboard the ships, and it was common knowledge that many died before they even got there. For a fleeting moment, Charlie almost hoped he’d be one of them; but then he thought of Opal, and his resolve to survive returned. He hoped she was coping without him, and prayed that she would find a job to sustain her until they could be reunited.
He was rudely jolted out of his musings when a guard gave him a vicious push, and the sharp chains about his ankles chaffed at the blisters they had caused, making him wince with pain.
‘Down ’ere, you lot!’ A guard pushed them towards a ladder that led down into the dark bowels of the ship, and as he descended the stench made Charlie retch. It was a smell of illness, stale urine, vomit and something he didn’t recognise and certainly didn’t want to identify. Ahead of him a man panicked and turned with a scream to try to find his way back up to daylight, but a well-aimed whip across his back had him tumbling like a rag doll to the bottom of the ladder, taking the two men below him with him.
A guard instantly approached him and began to kick him until he managed to get to his feet and stagger on. Charlie watched helplessly. He felt as if he was descending into the bowels of hell as they came to yet another ladder, which somehow, though hampered by the heavy chains that shackled them, they managed to slip and slither down. At last they were led into an enormous room, with hammocks strung from the beams in the wooden ceilings. Buckets lined one wall – no doubt for their toileting, Charlie thought – and on the opposite side, a wooden bench ran down the length of the hull.
So, this is to be our home for the foreseeable future, Charlie thought wi
th a sinking heart. There was no comfort of any kind and, once the guard had slammed the door behind them, they were left in darkness. He managed to get across to the bench and took a seat; and lowering his head, he began to pray. It was the only comfort that was left to him now.
When the ship finally sailed on the tide that night, a number of the men immediately became seasick. Most of them tried to reach the buckets, but others felt so ill they merely vomited on the floor in front of them, which made the stench overwhelming. Worse still, because it was dark, they had no way of knowing day from night. Eventually those who were strong enough claimed the hammocks and tried to lose themselves in sleep – no easy task when men were moaning and groaning all around.
But Charlie felt too stunned and too heartsick to move, so he stayed where he was on the bench.
At some point, the door was opened and the darkness lightened enough to reveal some guards bringing them food. It was very unappetising, mainly dry bread and salted beef or pork, and together with the disgusting stench of vomit and the sound of retching from some of the other men, the thought of food turned Charlie’s stomach. But he knew he needed to keep his strength up, so he forced himself to eat what he could, washing it down with water from the jugs that had been provided. Finally, he curled up in a ball on the floor under the bench and tried to sleep. But he’d barely closed his eyes when the guards reappeared and poked and prodded the men up the ladder for their exercise, which consisted of a very short walk around the decks.
Charlie gulped at the salty air gratefully and shuffled over to the rails, only to be told, ‘Get back in line, you, else you’ll feel the length o’ this!’
Glancing at the stern-faced guard who was holding a cat-o’-nine-tails, Charlie hastily did as he was bid. The way he saw it, he couldn’t change what had happened, so he may as well keep his head down, do as he was told and serve his time as best he could. And then . . . he would go home to England and find Opal and Susie. It was only this thought that kept him going.
The Winter Promise Page 9