by Evie Grace
‘G-good afternoon,’ she stammered, feeling unnerved by their meeting. There was something about Mr Wild that intrigued her.
She tried to put all thoughts of him aside during the next few days, but she was reminded by the frequent gossip that came via visitors to the farm. Mr Wild had moved some furniture into his house. He’d had a new carriage delivered from a renowned carriage-maker in London. He’d travelled to Romney to purchase a flock of sheep. He was causing quite a stir.
But one afternoon, something happened to put him right out of her mind. Rose was thinning out the carrots in the garden at the cottage, pulling them up by their feathery tops, when Minnie came limping along the path as fast as she could with a packet in her hand.
‘This has just arrived – it’s addressed to you. I think it must be from Arthur.’
Rose almost snatched it from her. She held it up to the sunlight and examined the handwriting. It was a masculine hand, but she wasn’t sure that she recognised it.
‘It isn’t from Aunt Marjorie,’ she confirmed, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach as she tore it open. ‘Oh!’ she said as she took out three banknotes and a purse of coins wrapped in paper. ‘There’s no note. Let me check the postmark.’ It was smudged and unreadable. ‘It has to be from Arthur!’
‘Of course it is,’ Minnie said, smiling. ‘I knew he wouldn’t let us down.’
Rose could hardly believe her eyes as she counted the money. The butterflies began to dance with joy inside her. ‘I wish I could give him the biggest hug. If only he knew what a difference this will make to our lives! Why hasn’t he sent his address so we can write back?’
‘Do you think he doesn’t want to be found?’ Minnie asked.
Rose refrained from giving her sister her theory about why Arthur hadn’t been in touch before – because he’d felt like an outsider as the adopted son.
‘Perhaps he wishes to surprise us by turning up out of the blue in the near future. Our dear brother …’
‘I’ve never seen so much money.’
‘We must put it somewhere safe.’
‘Where?’
‘Let me think about it.’ Rose felt rather mean, keeping the hiding place secret from her sister, but she didn’t want her to let on where it was to Donald, in case he decided to waste it on baccy and beer for his friends. She’d already earmarked some of it for paying off their debts at the bakehouse and the village shop, and some for treats: some sweets; a leg of lamb; half a pound of raisins for baking. She tucked it into her blouse and carried on with the gardening for another hour before she was disturbed for a second time.
‘It’s Freddie. Mr Wild, I mean, is here,’ Minnie said, emerging from the cottage with her thimble still on her thumb.
‘What can he want this time?’ Rose said, surprised.
‘He calls here rather often,’ Minnie said snidely.
‘This is only the second time – you are exaggerating. He is older than me by at least ten years – I’m sure there’s nothing in it,’ Rose said, although since his first visit, she had occasionally, in the dead of night and in the quiet moments of the day, wished that there was. She’d been struck by his manner and handsome appearance, but was he a gentleman? He wasn’t in the conventional sense of the word. ‘Go back to whatever you were doing, Minnie. There’s no need for you to listen in to our conversation.’
‘I’m sewing at the table. How can I not overhear when I’ll be in the same room? And why are you blushing?’
‘That’s enough of your teasing. Send Mr Wild out here.’ Rose glanced at the dirt engrained in her fingernails, and the smattering of freckles on her arms, then wondered why she was being so vain as to hope that he had any interest in her.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Cheevers. Have I caught you at a bad time?’ Mr Wild strode along the garden path, took off his hat and smiled, his hair glinting like gold in the sun.
‘No, it’s fine. Was there something you needed?’
‘Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me. Would you happen to know of a suitable candidate for housekeeper at Churt House? She would need to be honest, hard-working and neat in appearance.’
Rose shook her head. ‘We don’t know many people around here. You’d be better off asking Mrs Carter. She knows everyone – she’s lived here for most of her life.’
‘I’m asking you,’ he said.
‘Well, I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone, Mr Wild.’
‘Oh Rose, when I said I’m asking you, I mean that I’m asking you.’ He grinned, showing his even white teeth.
‘Me?’
‘You’re honest?’
‘Well, yes. On the whole.’
‘And you are hard-working and neat in appearance. You’ve made the cottage into a home for your brother and sister.’
‘But I have little experience and Churt House is very grand.’
‘It is, but it wouldn’t be beyond your capabilities.’
Her cheeks burned. He had chosen her, but why? ‘If you are doing this out of charity, then I can’t accept.’
‘It isn’t that,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s simple. I need a housekeeper and I thought of you.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start when it comes to managing the maids. Will you have maids?’
‘Yes, and a cook, butler and footmen – whatever’s needed to run an English country house. You said the other day that you were working at Wanstall Farm – will Mrs Carter object to you handing in your notice? Is that why you hesitate? Out of loyalty?’
‘I don’t think she would mind me taking up a new position. She has a maid already and there isn’t really enough work in the house for the two of us. If I should accept the offer of becoming your housekeeper, won’t your staff feel that I’m stepping on their toes?’ She remembered the man with the gun down by the river as they carried their precious haul of trout under Minnie’s skirts in the barrow many months ago. ‘You still have a caretaker looking after the house and estate?’
‘It isn’t a problem. The Toveys are moving to Somerset to be closer to their daughters. They were due to stay until Michaelmas, but I’ve said I will let them go before then, if I’ve found a replacement. By the way, I’ve heard that your sister takes in mending.’
‘She sews on buttons, darns socks and makes a good seam.’
‘I have a few items that need repair. Do you think she’d be interested?’
‘Yes, I’m sure she’d appreciate the extra work,’ Rose said. They all would. It was money coming in, after all.
‘Thank you. I’ll get it sent down to you.’
They fell silent, unsure what else to say to each other. She wondered if she should offer him a drink, but it didn’t feel right, inviting a stranger into the house. She had her reputation to think of.
‘Will you give me your answer today?’ he said eventually.
‘I need a little time,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. I expect you’ll want to discuss it with your family. It would be a live-in position with a wage and rent-free accommodation – they can come with you. I thought I’d have one of the cottages done out for you – I mean, for my housekeeper, whomsoever that turns out to be.’ He smiled. ‘I must take my leave. Good day, Rose.’
After he’d gone, she took a walk to the village shop, then returned to tell the twins of her good fortune over a suppertime feast of sausages, potatoes and ale.
‘It’s all very well Arthur sending this money, but I wish he’d come to see us,’ Donald said.
‘So do I. The patchwork’s ready,’ Minnie said. ‘I’d like to give it to him and Tabby.’
‘I’m sure we’ll see him again soon,’ Rose said, ‘but in the meantime, Mr Wild has offered me a place as his housekeeper. What do you think of that?’
‘I never imagined you’d end up as a housekeeper,’ Donald said. ‘What do you know about keeping house anyway?’
She glared at him and he laughed. He was teasing.
‘What about me and Donald?’ Minnie asked.
‘He’s offering accommodation for all three of us. Don’t worry – I wouldn’t leave you behind. I haven’t given him my answer yet because I wanted to know how you felt about it too.’
‘I wouldn’t be too hasty,’ Donald said. ‘It all seems very suspicious to me. Mr Wild doesn’t need to have anything mended – he can buy new clothes every day of the week. And why has he asked you, when he could choose anyone as housekeeper, somebody with experience of running a large establishment? Rose, he is a wealthy man.’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it,’ she said, suddenly doubting herself again. ‘Do you have any idea what line of business he’s in?’
‘He told someone in the Woodsman’s Arms that he’d made his money from sheep farming and wool.’
It didn’t sound like a very romantic way to make one’s fortune, Rose thought. ‘What else have you heard about him?’
‘I thought you didn’t listen to gossip?’ Donald grinned.
‘Is he married?’
‘No. There’s no Mrs Wild.’
‘Is he engaged then?’
‘Not for want of trying by the mothers of the young ladies of Overshill.’ Donald scraped his plate clean. ‘He’s said to be quite a catch, but although it’s early days, no one’s managed to wind him in yet. He’ll be snapped up soon enough by some society lady, I expect.’
‘What do you think Grandma will think of this?’ Minnie said.
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.’ If she should accept the position and give up the cottage, would Mrs Carter be upset or relieved? Rose wasn’t sure.
She took advantage of a moment the following day when she was helping her grandmother sort through the linen cupboard upstairs in the farmhouse, dividing the contents into piles to keep, mend or use for rags.
‘I had a little windfall yesterday.’ Rose held one end of a sheet while her grandmother held the other, shaking it out and pulling it smooth before folding it neatly and placing it on top of the ‘keep’ pile. ‘Arthur sent some money from London as he promised.’
‘That’s good news. I hope you’ve put it in a safe place. No, don’t tell me,’ she smiled. ‘Just remember that everyone keeps their savings under their mattress.’ Rose made a mental note to find a better hiding place for it as her grandmother went on, ‘Don’t broadcast your good fortune to the rest of the village.’
She thanked her for her advice.
‘Now, you can put the sheets back in the cupboard – the ones with holes on the top shelf and the ones in use on the next two down.’
Rose did as she was asked.
‘Next, pick up the rag pile and bring it downstairs – we’ll put them beside the medicine cabinet in the tack room. Stephen uses them for bandages and poultices, and for mopping up.’
Laden with old sheets, Rose followed her grandmother down the stairs and outside into the yard where Matthew Carter was applying a hot shoe to a horse’s hoof, sending up a plume of sulphurous smoke as Donald held on to the horse’s head. They crossed the cobbles to the tack room, a dark room without windows where Rose could make out the shadows of the saddles, bridles and harnesses on the walls.
‘I wonder if I could ask your advice,’ she said, as her grandmother cleared a quantity of leatherwork from the top of a cupboard.
‘Put the rags there – that’ll do,’ she said. ‘How can I help? What is it?’
‘The new owner of Churt House – Mr Wild – has asked me to be his housekeeper.’ Rose put the linen down. ‘I wanted to know what you think. I don’t want to offend you or put you in a bind by accepting his offer if you need me here at the farm, but I’m aware that there isn’t really enough work here for both Minnie, me and Alice.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you. What is Mr Wild going to pay you?’
‘A good wage and a rent-free cottage.’
‘So you would give up Toad’s Bottom?’
She nodded.
‘I assume that Donald will still work for Mr Carter, only we’d have to find somebody else if he gave it up.’
‘Oh yes, he would carry on here at the farm.’
‘It’s a wonderful opportunity for you to better your prospects, and you’ll only be up the road. I would accept, if I were you.’
‘I wouldn’t be so hasty.’ Mr Carter’s voice made Rose jump. She turned to find him in the doorway with the sun streaming past him. ‘You don’t know anything about that man.’
‘Neither do you to make such a judgement,’ Mrs Carter countered.
‘I know more than enough,’ he said sullenly. ‘What are you two lurking about in here for anyway?’
‘We’ve brought you some more rags. Don’t come back indoors until you’re feeling more cheerful.’ As Mrs Carter walked out past him, she gave him a peck on the cheek. He gave her a long-suffering smile in return.
‘If you stop fighting, it means you’ve stopped caring, Rose,’ her grandmother said as they returned to the house. ‘Don’t listen to my husband. He’s taken against Mr Wild for some reason, known only to himself. You tell him you’ll take the job. And don’t spend all of your brother’s money at once.’
Rose wasn’t sure if Mr Wild would be at home when she called on him on the Monday morning, but she had errands to do in the village so she decided she’d take the chance after she’d done her shopping and been to the bakehouse. Having put on her bonnet, she picked up her basket and walked into Overshill where she stopped to buy a marrow from a boy who was selling them outside a garden gate, before walking up to the mill to buy bread. The door of the bakehouse was propped open and she could hear voices inside. She stopped and listened.
‘I don’t understand why the Carters took them in – I wouldn’t trust the boy as far as I could throw him.’
Donald? she thought. What had he been up to this time?
‘Mrs Carter is their grandmother, Mrs Greenleaf. She’s kind to everyone.’
‘Well, he’s bad through and through.’
‘Don’t you remember Stephen Carter’s brothers? Jervis was worse than young Donald – he was a thieving, murdering thug. As for Matty, when he was convicted of playing his part in the killing of that constable, some said he were innocent, others that he deserved what was coming to him.’
‘Don’t let Stephen Carter hear you say that – he won’t have anything said against his younger brother.’
Matty? They were talking about her grandfather, and she felt a fresh pang of sorrow at never having met him.
‘I’ve taken to locking my doors of an evening, just in case.’
Rose became aware of someone moving up beside her. She turned.
‘Mr Wild,’ she said. ‘I was just coming to see you at the house.’
‘Miss Cheevers, what a pleasure it is to run into you.’ He cocked his head towards the door. ‘Ignore them. They have nothing better to do than spread gossip and rumour. Shall we give them something to talk about?’
‘What do you mean?’ she said, smiling.
He held out his arm.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, taking it and stepping inside with her head held high.
‘Ah, look who it is,’ the woman she recognised as Mrs Greenleaf said. ‘Talk of the devil.’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes almost popping out of her head. ‘Mr Wild? How lovely to meet you at last. We’ve heard so much about you.’
‘So many stories, no doubt,’ he said, being charming. He turned to Rose and gave her an enchanting smile. ‘What do you want to buy?’
She had clean forgot.
‘Two loaves, please,’ she stammered, ‘and I’d like to settle my bill in full as well.’
The baker’s son fetched the ledger from behind the counter and checked the amount she owed against her name.
‘It’s quite a lot.’ His voice sounded excessively loud and shrill.
‘I thou
ght so – I’m afraid that it slipped my mind last month, but I’ve remembered it now. Please – very quietly – tell me how much it is.’
He told her in a whisper, and she counted out her shillings and pence as she handed them over.
‘Walk with me, Rose,’ Mr Wild said as they left the bakehouse together.
‘You are supposed to call me Miss Cheevers,’ she said.
‘By convention. I had hoped we were well enough acquainted for me to call you by your first name.’
‘If I am to be your housekeeper, you must respect convention. It would be wrong – overly familiar – to address me as anything but Miss Cheevers. And in fact, I believe it is the custom in a grand English house to address one’s housekeeper as Mrs Cheevers, even though she isn’t married.’ She remembered Mrs Dunn.
‘It’s hard to remember all these strange customs.’ He chuckled. ‘Miss Cheevers, may I relieve you of your basket? Temporarily,’ he added when she hesitated. ‘There are people around here who suspect me of being a criminal or a fake, but I can assure you that my intentions are entirely honourable. I wish to carry your purchases as far as the crossroads – if you can bear my company …’
‘Of course, Mr Wild. Thank you.’ She handed over the basket, their fingers touching fleetingly.
‘It’s Freddie.’
‘It would be wrong to address you as such when you are to become my employer – if the offer still stands.’
‘You have decided?’
She nodded shyly. He had this way of making her feel awkward, gauche.
‘You’ve made me very happy. I shall travel lighter of heart, knowing that you will join me at Churt House on my return.’
‘What do you mean, your return?’
‘I’m going away for a while.’
‘How long for?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Eight to ten months, maybe more.’
‘That long?’ She wasn’t sure if she’d managed to disguise her distress. She felt unreasonably disappointed at his unexpected announcement. ‘I had thought you would wish to establish yourself at your new residence. Or perhaps you don’t intend to live there?’
‘I have business interests to attend to. I would stay here in Overshill if I could. I find that it has much to recommend it, more than I could ever have imagined.’