by Brown, T. J.
But Victoria was not afraid.
Restlessly, she twitched her shoulders and stamped her feet quietly to warm them. She, Elaine, and Rowena had walked to the crypt, spurning a ride in the trap. They had dressed for the chilly weather in tweeds, knitted scarves, and walking shoes, but the cold seemed all-pervasive and she wished the vicar would stop pontificating and get on with it. But he kept talking, talking, talking and not saying a bloody thing. And as she had learned last night at supper, talking did no good at all.
It wouldn’t bring her father back.
Someone had set up a spray of white stargazer lilies against the wall and Victoria leaned close to Rowena. “You know, he far preferred Scilla nutans over Lilium orientalis.” She’d meant to whisper it, but evidently wasn’t discreet enough because Aunt Charlotte shushed her and the vicar paused for a moment before continuing. “Well, he did,” she muttered stubbornly.
To distract herself, she stared at the old stone chapel, almost completely overrun now with English ivy, or Hedera helix, she told herself. The overgrown chestnut trees in the back completely shaded the old garden, and she could see that many of the diamond-pane windows had been broken. The church looked like she felt: lonely, empty, and devoid of warmth.
With a sigh, she turned back to the vicar. As she turned her head, she thought she saw something move in one of the windows of the chapel. Turning back, she stared hard but saw nothing. Was it a face? An animal? A chill went down her spine. Could it have been a ghost?
She chided herself for her imagination and turned back to the service. The vicar had finally stopped speaking and a flurry of activity commenced as the pallbearers picked up the coffin. They carried it, slow and dignified, down the little path leading from the memorial on top of the berm to the entrance to the crypt on the other side.
Victoria’s heart sped up as the finality of it all hit her.
Papa!
Suddenly she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of the iron door shutting her father away from the light. She turned toward the woods on the other side of the chapel.
“I’ll meet you back at the house,” she said over her shoulder.
“Victoria, wait!” Rowena called, but Victoria ignored her as she hurried down the hill.
She wanted to run, but knew that if she did she wouldn’t get very far before her lungs closed up, so she made herself keep it to a brisk walk and prayed that no one would follow her.
Once she stepped into the woods, she felt safe. Automatically she began ticking off the genus and species of the autumn-colored trees she walked past. Silver birch, Betula pendula, downy birch, Betula pubescens, crab apple, Malus sylvestris, wych elm, Ulmus glabra.
The names were familiar to her from years of walking through similar forests with her father, listening to him practice his lectures. His passion as he talked botany had been infectious and she loved nothing better than studying plants, growing them, and cataloging them. Watching seeds burst into a plant that would flower and reseed was to watch a never-ending cycle that both reassured and delighted her. She wondered whether there were any woman botanists. She should have asked her father.
Her dream seemed very far away today.
She found a large moss-covered rock near a small creek and sat, wishing Prudence were with her. Prudence’s comforting presence always made her feel better, more so than having Rowena by her side, especially now. Since they’d arrived at Summerset, her sister had barely spoken to her. She just looked at her, sadness buried in the depth of her great green eyes. Why wasn’t she fighting for Prudence? The whole situation was appalling.
She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had thought to wear more than a tweed jacket. Suddenly, she heard a crackle of movement to her left. Her head jerked around and she stared into the dim forest, looking for an animal. Nothing. The sound came again and she thought she saw movement behind an old elm tree. “Who’s there?” she called, wishing she didn’t sound so young and unsure.
An old woman stepped around the side of the tree. She wore a long, old-fashioned black dress and had a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. Her face was wrinkled like a crone’s, straight from fairy tales.
“Are you a witch?” Victoria asked. “Because I warn you, I don’t think I would taste very good.”
The woman laughed. “I’ve been called a witch and worse by my young charges, but I have yet to eat any of them.”
Her voice was strangely girlish for one so old, which didn’t comfort Victoria at all.
“Then who are you?”
“Who are you?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
The woman smiled, her face breaking into wrinkles. “Do you always avoid telling people who you are?”
Victoria laughed at that and settled herself more comfortably on the rock. “I could have you charged with trespassing, you know. This is my uncle’s land.”
“You don’t say? Then you must be one of Philip’s girls. I’m so sorry for your loss, child.”
Victoria nodded, unable to speak for the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat.
The woman stepped closer and held out a burlap bag. “I’m gathering some mallow. My niece has a bit of a cough and I’m making her some tea.”
“So you are a witch, but a nice one.” Victoria scooted off the rock. “Althaea officinalis from the Malvaceae family. I saw some on my way here. Come, I’ll show you.”
“Oh, you are your father’s daughter,” chortled the old woman.
They walked back the way Victoria had come. “How do you know my father?”
“I changed his nappy, paddled his bottom, and taught him his letters.”
Victoria stopped. “You’re Nanny Iris!”
The old woman nodded solemnly. “I am.”
“But you can’t be Nanny Iris! Nanny Iris was beaut—” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but the woman just laughed.
“Beautiful? Your dad always did have a silver tongue. But believe it or not, I was quite lovely in my day.”
They continued walking while Victoria’s mind whirled. “But what are you doing here? Father said you disappeared after his parents hired their tutor.”
“I hardly disappeared. I took my pension and traveled. I’d always wanted to see the pyramids and the Greek islands and so for twenty years I lived the life of a nomad. I married a number of times and had a great many adventures.”
“That must have been some pension.”
Nanny Iris snorted. “I was frugal and when the money ran low I taught English to all who could pay. Whenever I felt the urge, I moved on.”
It was a most fascinating tale. “So how did you end up back here?”
“I decided I needed to finish out my years in a place where loved ones could take care of me.”
Victoria looked ahead and pointed. “I give you Althaea officinalis.”
“Perfect. Could you gather the seed pods so I can put some in my garden?”
Victoria nodded and dropped to her knees next to the old woman, in spite of her new tweed walking suit. “How do you know that mallow is good for colds? What does it do?”
“It helps coat the throat and clear the nostrils. And I learned from my mother, just like she learned from her mother. Plus, I learned a great deal more about herbs during my travels. I’d like to believe that I’m the reason your father fell in love with plants. I taught him to garden long before I taught him his letters and numbers.”
Victoria was fascinated. “And did you teach my uncle, too?”
Nanny Iris scoffed. “I couldn’t teach that one anything. He was born too posh for the likes of me. Didn’t think I could teach him anything and his mother just indulged him. But your father was a veritable sponge.”
Victoria’s throat tightened and the old woman patted her hand. She didn’t say a word, though, which made Victoria like her even more.
They picked in silence for some time before the old woman stretched her back. “That’ll be enough now
. We don’t want to clean out the patch.”
Victoria stood up and helped Nanny Iris to her feet. “Would you like me to walk you home?”
“Lord, no, child. I know the way. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll have the whole house worried if you don’t get back soon.”
Victoria sighed, knowing it was true. “Rowena will be worried. Prudence, too.”
“Are they the girls you were standing with?”
“Rowena is my sister. She was the pretty dark-haired girl in the bucket hat. The other girl is my cousin, Elaine.”
“And where was Prudence?”
Victoria frowned, resentment running through her all over again. “Prudence wasn’t allowed to come.”
“Ah.” Nanny Iris didn’t ask and Victoria didn’t elaborate.
“Well, you’re a nice girl and I would love to have you come visit me some time. I was very fond of your father.”
“I would love that. Where do you live?”
“A little cottage just this side of Buxton. You can ask anyone and they will tell you where I live.”
On impulse, Victoria gave the old woman a hug. “Thank you. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“That would be grand, and Victoria?”
Victoria looked up at the serious note in her voice. “Yes?”
“Don’t wander around these woods by yourself. They’re not very friendly for young girls such as yourself.”
Before she could ask why, the old woman turned and nimbly trotted away.
* * *
“Everyone works here.” The cook tossed Prudence a rag. “Go help Susie scour the copper pots.”
Prudence blinked at the rag in her hand. All she had wanted was a cup of tea. The morning had been a nightmare. Mrs. Harper had awakened her at the crack of dawn even though Prudence knew full well it would be hours before Rowena or Victoria would need her for anything. She’d been ordered to help Susie peel carrots and onions for the soup stock that would sit on the back of the stove all day for this evening’s consommé. She’d barely had time for a cup of tea before the housekeeper had sent her upstairs to start the fires in Victoria’s and Rowena’s rooms. Then she ran back downstairs to snatch something to eat in the servants’ hall.
The servants’ hall was nothing like the fancy Great Hall upstairs. In fact, it must have been someone’s idea of a joke that they had the same name at all. The floor of the servants’ hall was covered in old brown linoleum, with old rickety chairs sitting at an equally rickety table. It looked small and tacky, an afterthought in a home where the kitchen, on the other hand, was thoroughly modern and well planned. The Indian flagstones on the floor were scrubbed clean and huge earthenware sinks and an enormous cooker took up one entire wall. On top of the cooker sat a huge copper vat with a tap that supplied constant hot water.
Her only relief of the day had been helping Rowena and Victoria into their walking suits, but even that had a pall on it because they were going to say good-bye to their father and she wasn’t allowed to go, despite her own immeasurable grief and longing to bid him a final farewell alongside her sisters.
Now Prudence stared at the rag, unsure of what she was being asked to do. She’d never had to clean the pots and pans. Katie had always done that. Susie grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the scrub room, a dingy, windowless room with two more giant sinks. “Here, I’ll show you. The work will go so much faster with two of us.”
Susie wore her mousy brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. The sleeves on her blue-and-white-striped shirt were rolled up, showing strong arms in spite of her small size. She stood smaller than Victoria, and Prudence thought she couldn’t be more than fifteen, but her motions were quick and competent.
Susie grabbed a small bowl and mixed together silver sand, salt, vinegar, and a little flour. Once she’d stirred it into a paste, she took a pot with one hand and a scoop of cleanser with the other. “Then you scrub like this.” She worked the paste into the pan with a quick rubbing motion.
Screwing up her face, Prudence scooped up a small handful of paste. Susie nodded encouragingly. “That’s it. Now scrub.”
The vinegar and salt stung Prudence’s hands, but she scrubbed, tentatively, until Susie reached out and pushed her hand hard against the pan.
“No, you have to press harder. That’s why you can’t do it with rags, see?”
So Prudence scrubbed.
The pots were so tarnished, she thought it would never come clean, but when it finally did, she found a certain satisfaction in taking a dull pan and making it look shiny and bright.
“Do you have to do this every day?” she asked.
“Every bleedin’ day,” Susie said grimly. “Look at my hands.” She held out a hand for Prudence’s inspection. They were small and capable, but the skin was chapped red and the knuckles swollen.
“Language!” Cook yelled from the kitchen.
Susie rolled her eyes and continued scrubbing.
“Do you like your job?” Prudence asked.
Susie snorted, “I’m the scullery maid. What do you think? I’m the lowest of the low.” She leaned closer and whispered, “But I’m hoping to be a cook someday.”
Prudence couldn’t imagine a life where being a cook was the highest of one’s aspirations. But then were hers any better? She just wanted to take care of those she loved. Maybe have a family someday. What she wanted in life didn’t seem nearly as important as what she didn’t want: to be facing everything alone. But Susie didn’t seem intimidated by the thought of a solitary life, because cooks never married. “What’s so great about being a cook?” Prudence asked.
“Much better pay. And you get to order other people around all day!” Susie yelled this last part over her shoulder.
“I heard that!” Cook yelled back from the kitchen, and Prudence and Susie giggled.
“I’ve worked here for about eight months. It’s not a bad job. The food is good. I have a roof over my head and I’m working for an earl, which lets me lord it over my sisters on my days off. They just have day jobs in town.”
“Do you like the Earl?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve never met him. I met the Countess once, when she hired me. She said I looked a likely gal and I got the job. I was so nervous!”
Prudence frowned and scrubbed with renewed vigor. How odd to take such pride in working for an earl when he hadn’t even bothered to meet someone in his own employ.
Though Susie said the work would go faster with the two of them, it seemed to take forever. Then the bells started ringing on the bell board and everyone snapped to attention.
“They’re back from the service.” Cook grabbed some silver salvers from the china closet. “They’ll be wanting their tea.”
Hortense came hurrying down the narrow stairs. Prudence had seen her only once, in passing. She noticed she didn’t have to wear an ugly uniform. Instead, the statuesque black-haired Frenchwoman wore a smart black-and-white-checked twill suit that couldn’t be anything but couture.
“Miss Rowena was asking for you. She is in her room.” Hortense clapped her hands. “Rapidement!”
Prudence wiped her hands on the apron Susie had lent her and started up the stairs.
“Non! Take her some tea. Idiot!”
Prudence turned back and Cook handed her a tray with a teapot and cups. Then she hurried up the steps while Hortense muttered in French below.
The servants’ stairway had inconspicuous doors that opened up on each floor, so they could move about the house without their presence being known. It seemed odd to Prudence to have a small army of silent, invisible workers keeping the house running in tip-top shape and not even be aware of them. Did Elaine ever wonder about the fire that warmed her room in the morning when she awoke, the never-ending supply of biscuits in the jar next to her bed, or how her slippers and dressing gown were heated and waiting for her to crawl into after she bathed? Prudence wasn’t sure she would like that kind of luxury at all.
Even if the rules hadn’t
stressed being quiet at all times, Prudence would have tiptoed. The inside of the house, with its exquisite art, plush carpets, and the wide, gleaming staircase that seemed to stretch on forever, required a certain decorum. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was rouse the ire of Mrs. Harper, who already seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her.
She found Rowena in her room, looking out the mullioned window. Ivy had been allowed to grow up the walls on this side of the house and it surrounded the window, making it look as if Rowena were peering out into a secret garden. “I brought you some tea,” Prudence said stiffly. Even though she loved Rowena, a part of her smarted at being maneuvered into this situation by her own sister.
“Thank you, Pru.” Rowena turned her face away from the window and Prudence’s heart melted at the sadness on her face.
She set the tray down on a small table near the window, then put her arms around Rowena.
“It was so sad. He loved Summerset, but I kept thinking that he wouldn’t want to spend the rest of eternity here. He loved our home as much, if not more, and he loved to travel so.”
Prudence’s arms tightened. “Just don’t think of him stuck here. He’s in a better place, you know.”
“I know.” Rowena sighed. “Has Victoria come home yet?”
Prudence frowned. “What do you mean? I thought she was with you.”
“She was, but then she couldn’t bear it anymore and went for a walk. I tried to call her back, but you know how she gets. I felt it would be disrespectful to shout or follow her. One of us needed to be there.”
Alarm kicked Prudence’s pulse up a notch. “But it’s so cold outside. Do you think she’ll get lost?”
Rowena shook her head. “Remember, Vic has been here every summer since she was born. She should be fine as long as she gets in before dark.”
“We should go look for her.” Prudence turned away from the window, but Rowena grabbed her arm. “No, look. There she is now.”
Prudence spotted Victoria’s slight figure coming up the walkway through the formal rose garden. The roses had been cut back for the winter and looked shorn and disgraced.