The Kitchen Maid

by Val Wood

  ‘So.’ Christina swung round to look at the room. ‘Papa left this to me in case his father – who isn’t my real grandfather – might leave me penniless if he didn’t consider me as his own kin? Which I’m not!’ She took a deep breath, and Jenny, gazing at her, thought that she was already healing, now that she had something tangible to consider.

  ‘Something of the kind,’ Jenny said. ‘Though your grandfather does consider you as family. He says that he’ll always treat you just ’same as Serena. He took to you straight away.’

  ‘I know!’ Christina murmured. ‘He does love me.’

  ‘Well, there you are then.’ Jenny’s voice trembled as she controlled her innermost emotions. ‘Love is the thing, after all.’

  Christina asked only a few questions about her real father. His name, which Jenny told her knowing that it would mean nothing to her; where he lived, which she said was Beverley. Then, surprisingly, she asked about Jenny’s parents, her maternal grandparents, whom she hadn’t ever asked about before.

  ‘I haven’t seen them in years and years,’ Jenny confessed. ‘Not since before you were born. I wrote to tell them of your birth, and of Agnes’s death; she was my mother’s sister,’ she added. ‘And I told them of my marriage to Stephen.’

  ‘Oh,’ Christina breathed. ‘So you don’t know if they are alive or anything about them since then? But Mama,’ she said, as Jenny shook her head at the question. ‘I couldn’t bear it not knowing about you! And they have all us grandchildren that they don’t know about.’ She became contemplative. ‘They are our grandparents, mine and Johnny’s and Serena’s, and Thomas’s and William’s.’ Her eyes glistened as she realized that she did have something in common after all with her brothers and sister.

  ‘Did they meet my father? Your first husband?’ she asked, sitting down on the bed. ‘They would have been sad for you when he died. How did he die?’ she asked suddenly, as if she had just thought of it. ‘He must have been young too?’

  Jenny put her hand to her mouth. What now to do or say? ‘He was young,’ she murmured through her fingers. ‘There was a terrible accident. He was shot.’ She turned to Christina, her eyes searching hers for any condemnation. ‘And – and he wasn’t my husband. We were never married.’

  It wasn’t condemnation that she saw, but dismay; another blow for Christina who was now discovering that she was illegitimate.

  ‘No-one else knows,’ Jenny said hastily. ‘Except for Grandpappy. I told him.’

  ‘No-one will ever want to marry me!’ Christina said tearfully. ‘Not when they know that I’m – I’m a –’ She couldn’t finish. ‘I overheard Aunt Laura and Aunt Maud talking once,’ she whispered. ‘About someone they knew who had a baby out of wedlock, and her father sent her and the child away to an asylum.’ She frowned. ‘But that didn’t happen to you? Or is that why you haven’t seen your parents? Did you run away? Were they so shocked that they didn’t want to see you ever again?’

  In spite of everything, Jenny couldn’t help but think wryly that here was the difference between the way she had been brought up and the way Christina had. Her own parents had only been concerned that the house would be too crowded if she and the baby went to live with them, though her father had said she could if she wanted to.

  ‘They were not shocked,’ she said, recalling that her mother had predicted it. ‘But I would have been an inconvenience. So I went away to live with Aunt Agnes who was very ill, and Stephen who needed help to look after her.

  ‘Now,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘That’s enough explanation for today. Let’s get on, otherwise we shan’t be finished before it’s time to go home.’

  They drove home in near silence, Jenny trying not to think of her past, but to concentrate on the present, and Christina worrying about her future. They bowled along at a spanking pace along the quiet country lanes, between hedges of blackthorn where yellowhammers and corn bunting flew, where scrubby hawthorn showed the first scattering of white blossom and grassy banks of primroses and cowslips edged the fields of greening swaying corn.

  Jenny, keeping her doubts to herself, had tried to reassure Christina that if someone really loved her, then he would want to marry her regardless of her background. ‘You are the adopted daughter of Stephen St John Laslett,’ she told her. ‘He gave you his name. It’s legal and binding.’ And that is Stephen’s true legacy, she thought. Worth even more than the gift of Lavender Cott, comforting though that is.

  It was after eight o’clock when they reached the drive of Laslett Hall. They were later than they had intended to be, having spent so much of the day in discussion. ‘There’s William, Mama. Look, he really is too big for that hack. Will you ask Grandpappy about another horse or will I?’ said Christina. ‘Goodness! He’s riding fast. He’s going to come off!’

  William was galloping towards them, lashing the horse with his whip to make him move faster.

  ‘Stop, William!’ Christina shouted at him. ‘Don’t work him so.’

  ‘Mama! Mama! I’ve been waiting and waiting for you. Come quick!’ William’s face was flushed with exertion and creased with anxiety. He almost fell off the horse as he reached them. ‘Hurry!’

  ‘What’s happened? Somebody’s hurt? Oh, who? William, tell me!’

  ‘No. No! Nobody’s hurt or anything, but come quick.’ He snuffled back tears. ‘Johnny’s run away!’

  ‘What! Run away! No. Surely not. You must be mistaken, William.’ Jenny stared at her youngest son. ‘It’s a prank! Johnny wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘He has! Grandpa is furious. He says he will give him the strap when he finds him!’ He pressed his lips together as he stared fearfully at his mother. The boys had never had the strap. Jenny wouldn’t allow it and it had caused some dissension between her and John Laslett. ‘He’s saddled up his horse and gone out to look for him.’

  ‘How do you know he’s run away?’ Jenny asked. ‘He wouldn’t have told anyone if he was going to do that!’

  ‘He didn’t come in for supper and Grandpa sent Serena upstairs to look for him!’ He bit again on his lips, drawing blood. ‘He’d left her a letter and another one for you. Only Serena won’t let Grandpa read it or tell what it says, except that he’s run away! She says she’ll only tell you, and Grandpa was really cross with her and you’re so late, Mama, and we’ve been waiting and waiting!’

  Christina shook the reins and they continued up the drive with William trotting alongside them, relating snippets of information about how their grandfather wouldn’t let any of them have any supper until he had come back with Johnny, and how they all had to go to their rooms.

  ‘Only I saw you coming,’ he said. ‘I was watching out for you. I’m starving hungry,’ he added, ‘though Dolly brought us some cake after Grandpa had gone out.’

  Jenny wasn’t unduly worried. Johnny was such a harum-scarum boy. He’s probably gone off with some of the local lads, she thought. Though it was unlike him to leave a note to say where he was going. He didn’t usually do that. She sighed. This would again raise the question of his going away to school, which John Laslett was constantly saying was the only way to tame him.

  Serena was waiting for her in the hall. Like Johnny she was tall and slender, but her normally calm and untroubled countenance now wore a worried frown. She held an envelope in her hand, which she gave to her mother, and pulled another, opened one from her skirt pocket.

  ‘What’s all this about, Serena?’ Jenny asked. ‘Johnny hasn’t really run away, has he? He’s just gone off on some prank?’

  ‘’Fraid not, Mama.’ Serena glanced from her mother to Christina, whose hand rested on William’s shoulder. She looked down at her letter and then handed that too to Jenny. ‘He’s been talking about it for weeks as a matter of fact, ever since Grandpa said he would send him away to school if he didn’t confirm – I mean conform.’

  Jenny opened the scrap of paper and saw Johnny’s bold hand and poor spelling. ‘Dear Serena,’ it said. ‘Be a good sport an
d try to keep this secret ’til Mama gets home. I don’t want Grandpa to come after me, as I know he will when he hears. I’m off to be a sodger. Much love, your twin, Johnny.’

  She breathed hard and, passing the letter to Christina, she opened the one addressed to ‘Mama’.

  ‘Dearest Mama,’ she read. ‘Please don’t be angry with me, but I don’t want to be a farmer. Thomas or William can have my place instead. I’m going off to be a sodger and fight the Rushans or Afghans or even the French if they like. It’s what I want to do. I’ll write to you as soon as I’m signed up and in uniform. I shall soon be an officer I expect, so you’ll be proud of me. PS. You don’t need to worry about me getting shot at as I’ve been practising with the guns that we use for the rooks, and I’ve quite a good aim now. Your ever loving son, Johnny.’

  Dolly came rushing down the stairs. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Laslett,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that he’d gone until suppertime. He must have left just after you and Miss Christina went out.’

  ‘Not your fault, Dolly.’ Anxiety swept over her. ‘But wasn’t he missed from his lessons?’

  ‘His tutor didn’t come today. He sent a note to say he was unwell.’ A Mr Bradbury from Driffield had coached Johnny for the last year, as the governess had said Johnny was now too old for her to teach.

  Jenny nodded. The young varmint must have been waiting for such an opportunity to arise so that he could escape. ‘Where do you think he’s gone, Serena?’

  ‘To be a soldier, Mama,’ she said patiently. ‘Like it says on the letter!’

  ‘Yes, I know that! But where would he go first, do you think?’

  William was reading the letter over Christina’s arm. ‘Well, there are no Russians around here!’ he said. ‘That’s a fact. And no Afghans either, so maybe he’s gone to Driffield.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly, William,’ Serena scolded. ‘Of course he hasn’t gone to Driffield! There are no soldiers there. Except for the militia.’

  ‘He has gone to Driffield.’ Thomas’s voice came from the doorway. He was windswept and muddy. ‘He cadged a lift to Driffield this morning, then he was going to catch a train to York. I saw him go but he said I hadn’t to tell anybody ’til later, and then I could be the farmer ’stead of him.’

  The door crashed open again and Mr Laslett burst in, almost falling over Thomas. ‘Damn and blast it,’ he said. ‘I’ve looked all over the area for him and now somebody’s just said they saw him this morning in a carrier’s cart heading for Driffield!’ He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and the children, Serena, Thomas and William, surreptitiously edged their way out of the hall. ‘Fetch me a glass of ale,’ he bellowed at Dolly. ‘I’m parched. Fair worn out. I’m too old to go chasing about the countryside.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have gone,’ Jenny reprimanded. ‘Not on your own. Where’s Arabella? She shouldn’t have allowed you to go!’

  ‘I’m not some young farm hand you gels can order about,’ he roared. ‘The boy’s run off and I’m intent on finding him! He’ll have a taste of the strap before I’m finished with him.’

  ‘Please don’t shout,’ Jenny implored. ‘My son has run away and I need to think. And when we find him, if we find him, he will not be strapped! His father wouldn’t have strapped him and neither will you!’

  He glared at her and then demanded, ‘So what did he say in the letter? That young miss wouldn’t tell me!’

  ‘She wouldn’t tell you because she knew you would be angry,’ Jenny said wearily. ‘Johnny doesn’t want to be a farmer so he’s gone to be a soldier.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  They sent a messenger to York, but there was no trace of Johnny. He had simply disappeared. He was under age for the army, but he was tall and had a confident manner belying his thirteen years.

  ‘Once they’ve got their hands on him, they’ll not let him go, even if we could find him,’ John Laslett stated gloomily. ‘They’ll send him off to the ends of the earth. Balkans, Austria, and mark my words the Russians are ready to go to war over Turkey.’ He leant his chin in his hands. ‘There’ll be some bloodshed before the year is out.’

  ‘They’ll not send a young boy out there?’ Jenny said fearfully. It was three weeks since Johnny had left and there had been no word of him. ‘They surely won’t!’

  ‘He’ll have given a false name and lied about his age. That’s what these young lads do.’ The old man sighed. ‘His father wanted to be a soldier when he was young and I wouldn’t let him go. Didn’t want him getting killed in some foreign land.’

  Jenny left the room. She couldn’t bear to think that her son had gone away and that she might never see him again.

  ‘He’ll be all right, Ma.’ Thomas was standing in front of the hall fire. Like his grandfather he always kept his boots on, though Jenny had banned him from wearing them in the dining or sitting room. ‘He’ll probably be doing something boring like marching or drilling, and you know Johnny, if he doesn’t like it then he’ll come home again.’

  ‘But if he’s joined the army, he can’t just leave,’ Jenny said desperately. ‘They’ll come and get him!’

  ‘Well then, if they find him and he won’t go back, then they’ll hang him,’ Thomas declared. ‘He’d have been better staying at home with us. Come on,’ he called to the dogs, who got up from the rug to follow him. There were always two dogs, although not the same two that had been there when Jenny had first come here. ‘Let’s be off.’

  She sat down in the old rocking chair that was placed by the fire and gazed into the flames. Thomas was always practical and stated the obvious, but it hadn’t helped one little bit.

  Arabella, in a caped coat and neat veiled hat and murmuring that she was going visiting, floated past her towards the door, then turned and said, ‘Try not to worry, Jenny dear. Johnny can look after himself,’ before patting her hat and going out.

  Arabella spent a good deal of time visiting. Since Jenny had come to live at Laslett Hall, Arabella had enjoyed socializing. She met friends for luncheon, and went out for afternoon tea and supper. She often invited them back and Jenny was always included, but, trying not to appear rude, she always found some excuse for not joining in the ladies’ company or conversation. She knew what gossips they all were, and how they liked to know who was who and what was what, and she had no wish for them to probe into her background.

  She thought that Arabella tacitly understood this, for she never made any attempt to persuade Jenny to attend when she obviously didn’t want to. ‘But you don’t mind if I invite them here, do you, Jenny? It’s the only pleasure I get,’ she had said mournfully. ‘I know that I won’t find a husband now, I’m too old, so I must make the most of my female companions.’

  ‘It’s your home, Arabella,’ Jenny had told her. ‘If you want to invite your friends then of course you should.’ But she had known that what Arabella really meant was would Jenny organize the tea or supper; ask Cook to make cakes or biscuits, and come in at exactly the right time for the ladies to get up and make their departures.

  She also gathered that Arabella’s friends had initially questioned her about her reclusive sister-in-law who had tragically lost her husband, leaving her with five children. That they knew her background was different from theirs was obvious for she retained her Hull accent, but as they were mostly from farming backgrounds and some had an East Riding accent themselves, that was of no account. She could have been the daughter of a ship’s chandler or fish merchant, a shopkeeper or mill owner for all they knew, and that was what made them curious. Arabella simply told them that Stephen had met her when she was very young, but that she knew no more than they. Now, so many years had passed that they no longer showed any interest, and merely passed the time of day with her or discussed the weather.

  I was the same age as Johnny when I left home to go to work in Beverley, she mused as she rocked. I too lied about my age. I told Mrs Feather I was fourteen when I was only thirteen. And, she deliberated, if Johnny had been broug
ht up as I was, then he would have been expected to go to work at thirteen or even before. I wonder if Ma and Da worried about me? I rather think they didn’t, but then – she gave a sigh – I look at life so differently now.

  ‘Mama!’ Serena came to her a few weeks later. ‘Can I talk to you please?’

  ‘Now? Don’t you see I’m busy?’ The furniture in the sitting room had been moved to the centre of the room and was covered in white cloths, and Jenny was in earnest conversation with the painter who had come to start painting and wall-papering. Jenny and Arabella had chosen a dark red flocked wallpaper and velvet curtains to match. This was the first time that any major decorating had been done since Jenny had come to live at Laslett Hall and she counted it a considerable triumph that she had persuaded her father-in-law to agree to it.

  ‘Please, Mama. I need to talk to you whilst it’s all in my head and before I change my mind.’ Serena looked at her mother appealingly and Jenny gave her a quick smile. She looked so pretty. She was dressed in a white starched cotton blouse and a pale blue ankle-length skirt with a frilled hem, and her hair was tied up with a blue ribbon.

  ‘Where did you get ’skirt?’ Jenny asked when she joined Serena in the hall five minutes later. ‘Is it one of Christina’s?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been trying on some of her things. She said that I could. She said I could keep this one, but I need to alter it. Look.’ She showed the waistband, which was too big for her. ‘I need to take it in.’

  Serena did not have her older sister’s curves and Jenny thought that she probably wouldn’t. Both she and Johnny favoured their father’s lean build.

  ‘Mama, you know that Grandpa was always telling Johnny that he should go away to school? He made it sound like a sort of punishment, which was why Johnny didn’t want to go.’ She sat down on the rug with her skirt draped round her feet, as her mother sat in a chair. ‘But if he’d allowed Johnny to go to military school as he wanted to, then he would have gone.’