‘It was found that no changes were necessary.’
Rose fell silent, uncertain how to negotiate around this impasse. At length she said, ‘Would you have any objection, Mr Rowell, if I were to make representations on the servants’ behalf to the dowager myself?’
A mix of gratitude and astonishment shone from the man’s eyes. ‘I would not dream to comment, milady. But were such a representation to bear fruit, I am sure the staff would be most appreciative.’
‘I’m not sure that I quite understand the purpose of this request,’ was the response Rose received when she approached Lady Tregowan with the polite suggestion that the servants be allowed more candles.
‘The purpose is to allow them to have sufficient light in their rooms when they retire, so that they might see to undress, and to read their Bibles.’ Rose couldn’t quite believe her own courage in speaking up, but she had the unsettling feeling that the servants weren’t being treated correctly, and something should be done.
‘How ridiculous! One doesn’t need a candle in order to take off one’s clothes and get into bed, and most of them can’t even read, so why waste money on lighting? And if I might say so, you should not allow yourself to be fed such nonsense by Tilly.’
‘It wasn’t Tilly, I do assure you.’
‘Then who was it? I find it astonishing that any maid in my employment would risk their job by telling such tales.’
‘It was merely my own observation when I chanced to be passing by,’ Rose hastened to add, anxious now for both Gladys and Tilly. The last thing she wanted was for either of these girls to lose their job.
‘Passing by? How very strange. May I suggest, then, that you keep to your own part of the house in future. The welfare of my servants is really none of your concern.’
And that, it seemed, was an end of the matter. At least for now.
‘So, what do you think of the new Lady Tregowan, then?’ Mrs Pascoe paused in the delicate task of crimping her Cornish pasties as she waited for Tilly’s response.
‘I like her.’
‘I thought as how you might, particularly since you get to help mind the child. And I know how fond you are of little ’uns. But will anything change, that’s what I want to know? What difference can she make, young maid like she?’
‘She’s young, I know, and a bit overwhelmed by everything.’ Tilly was determined to steadfastly defend her new mistress. ‘She’s finding it a bit hard to adjust to our British ways, and don’t forget she’s still grieving for her husband. But I’m sure she’ll do her best. Look how she tried to get us more candles, admittedly with no success, but she did at least try, even though she’s only been in the house five minutes.’
‘And you’re nice and comfy now, up there in the nursery wing.’
‘I didn’t ask for special treatment, that was all her doing, carried my stuff up an’ all. She hasn’t forgotten the candles either. She suggested we report any accidents the maids might have, seeing as how they have to cope in darkness much of the time.’
Mrs Pascoe looked thoughtful at this. ‘Has a clever head on her shoulders, then.’
Tilly looked pleased. ‘Aye, she’s nobody’s fool. And she’s offered to help my parents.’
‘And what might she be able to do for them, I wonder?’ Having prepared the pasties to her satisfaction and set the tray in the oven to bake, Cook dusted flour from her hands and sank into a chair with a weary sigh. Her feet were playing up something shocking today, not to mention her back. ‘Will she save them from eviction, do you reckon, or provide them with other accommodation?’
Tilly concentrated on cutting out more pastry circles for the second batch of pasties, aware of the eyes of the other servants upon her as they went about their chores, supposedly minding their own business. But there was precious little privacy in this kitchen. ‘She’s promised to pay them a visit and consider the matter.’
‘Ah, promises,’ Mrs Pascoe mumbled, nodding sagely, so that her white mob cap flopped back and forth atop the round knob of grey hair to which it was pinned. ‘Promises are like wishes – they soon vanish in the mist when faced with harsh reality. Once she realises it’s Mr Jago what calls the shots round here, I can’t see her volunteering to stand up to that bully.’
Tilly instantly protested. ‘She has far more spunk than you give her credit for. Like I say, she faced up to Lady T, didn’t she? And all over a few candles. She understood the importance for us to have light – to write our letters home, if nothing else. Those of us what can read, that is, or who help those what can’t. I reckon she’s been through some tough times herself.’
The cook laughed out loud. ‘How do you work that out? Admittedly she’s recently widowed, but she’s rich, quite pretty, married well, and her son is a baronet. How hard can that be?’
‘I don’t know, but there’s something about her …’ Tilly was frowning, struggling to explain. ‘She’s not in the least bit uppity. She doesn’t lord it over me but acts more like a friend. And there’s a deep sadness about her, a sort of helplessness at the core of her that has nothing to do with grief. It’s as if she’s afraid, though of what, I can’t imagine. As you say, she’s landed on her feet good and proper here, with her husband’s inheritance falling nicely into her lap.’
Not budging from her chair, the cook started to spoon out portions of her special steak, onion and turnip mix onto the next batch of pastry circles. ‘Hmm, mebbe it’s dawned on her that she faces an uphill battle to hold on to that inheritance. The old cow won’t let go of the reins too easily.’
Some of the kitchen maids giggled at this use of Mrs Pascoe’s favourite word to describe Lady Tregowan. The cook knocked on the table with one fat knuckle. ‘Hey, you lot, get on with that washing-up and stop your earwigging.’ Then leaning closer to Tilly, for whom she’d always had a soft spot, she carefully dropped her voice. ‘Does she suspect, I wonder, half of what went on here? Does your new mistress ever talk about why that husband of hers was rebuffed and sent packing by his own father?’
Tilly blinked. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Cook. Wasn’t it because he didn’t approve of Sir Ralph marrying again?’
Mrs Pascoe rested one plump finger against her full lips as warning for Tilly to keep her voice down. There was nothing she liked better than a bit of gossip, but she’d no wish to broadcast it. In a hushed whisper she went on, ‘That was the official story, to be sure. But there was much more to it than that. The poor young man was stitched up good and proper.’
Goggle-eyed, this was all news to Tilly, but then the family quarrel had happened before her time. She leant closer to whisper, ‘Stitched up by whom, and in what way?’
‘By the old cow, who else? She accused—’
‘Ah, Tilly, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
Tilly smothered a groan of disappointment as Mrs Pascoe was cut off midsentence. ‘Joe, I wasn’t expecting to see you in here so soon. It’s not time for dinner yet awhile. It’s barely eleven o’clock. What was it you wanted? Oh, there isn’t something wrong with little Robbie, is there?’ She jumped to her feet, a sudden panic in her voice.
‘No, no, Ro—er, Lady Tregowan is about to take him for a walk in that perambulator you found in the attic the other day, so she won’t need you for a while, Tilly. But she’s wanting to know when your next afternoon off is, and if she may come with you to see your parents?’
Tilly turned back to the cook with a triumphant smile. ‘There you are, didn’t I say she’d help? Thank you, Joe. Please tell Her Ladyship that I’ll be going next Sunday, before lunch, and I’d be honoured if she was to accompany me.’
‘Right, I’ll tell her.’
The two women watched as Joe dashed off, evidently in a great hurry to obey his mistress. ‘He’s very cosy with the new Lady T, don’t you reckon?’ Mrs Pascoe thoughtfully remarked.
‘Hmm, mebbe,’ Tilly said, frowning. ‘But then he’s worked for her quite a while, apparently.’
�
�Do you reckon there could be any truth in that story about him being her lover?’
Whatever it was she’d been gossiping about with Cook now slipped right out of her head as Tilly considered this new worry. It was certainly true that she’d seen Joe deep in conversation with his young mistress on at least two occasions. Now why was that? she wondered.
It was the following morning and Joe was enjoying breakfast in the kitchen, taking his time as he savoured each delicious mouthful of Mrs Pascoe’s excellent porridge and the leftover bacon and sausage that had come back from the dining room. It was a far cry from those bleak, hungry weeks in steerage when they’d had to make do with dry bread and salt fish. He’d fallen on his feet good and proper here, with regular food in his belly, a comfy bed to sleep in, a clean uniform to wear, and the opportunity to drive one of the newfangled motors as well as a horse-drawn carriage. Joe certainly had no intention of losing this position just because Rose suffered the occasional prick of conscience. She always was too soft-hearted for her own good, was little Rosie.
Tilly appeared at his elbow to warm up his mug of tea and drop a third sausage on to his plate. ‘I thought you might be hungry as you were up so early. I hope you’re settling in all right?’
‘Aye, thanks.’ He beamed at her, admiring the way her full breasts nicely filled out the bib of her apron, and wondering if he could span her tiny waist with his two hands. He’d like to do more than that with his hands, given half a chance. Of course, his heart belonged entirely to Rose and always would, but there was nothing to stop a chap enjoying a little light dalliance as well, was there? She was a looker was Tilly. ‘How could I not be, when I’m being waited on hand, foot and finger by the prettiest girl I’ve ever clapped eyes on in me life.’
Tilly blushed, most becomingly. ‘Get away with you, Joe Colbert. My mam warned me about men like you. Proper charmer, you are. Well, I wasn’t brought in with the morning milk. I expect you say that to all the girls, particularly when there’s some gain to yourself, like that extra sausage.’
Joe’s hazel eyes glinted with mischief as he tucked into it with gusto. ‘So what can I do for you in return? I’m ready to oblige in any way I can.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ Tilly sat on the chair beside him, and, propping her chin in her hand, studied this newcomer with her frank, open gaze. Everyone else had eaten and gone about their business, so they were quite alone in the kitchen, Joe tending to come in a bit later for his grub since he had to see to the horses first. Despite her cool response towards him, she rather liked his tousled red hair and cheeky smile. ‘So tell me, how long have you worked for Her Ladyship?’
Joe looked blank for a moment, happily engaged in tracing the slender line of her throat and the way little brown curls sprang out from beneath her cap, his mind on more intimate matters. ‘Ah, you mean Ro—er, Lady Rosalind? To be honest, she never really called herself that in … er … in America, her late husband not being on speaking terms with his father an’ all. Besides, he wasn’t a lord then, was he, before Sir Ralph died?’ Joe could only hope he’d got this right, as he really knew very little about how titles, or the aristocracy, operated.
‘You’ve worked for her a while, then. How long have you been in America?’
He pretended to consider, as if it was hard to recall such details. ‘Five years, mebbe more.’
‘And you’ve been with her all of that time? Must have become quite chummy, then.’
Persistent little blighter, our Tilly. Her cheeks were rosy from having just come in from hanging out the laundry, he noticed. She smelt of summer breezes and lavender, which stirred his senses in a most exciting way. ‘Not quite so long as that,’ he hedged, not wanting to be pinned down.
‘I saw you talking with her the other day, down by the shrubbery. It seemed to be quite an intense conversation, so you must know her well.’
By heck, he’d have to watch this one. Still, it was flattering that she took such an interest in him, so long as that was the only reason for her curiosity. ‘Aye, well, she ain’t stuffy about servants having opinions,’ Joe fabricated by way of explanation, then judged it wise to change the subject. ‘How about you? Have you been at Penver Court long?’
‘Oh, years and years, since I was a girl,’ Tilly replied.
‘You’re still a girl, and a lovely one at that,’ Joe teased, bending closer so that he could taste the warmth of sweet breath from her rosy lips. A startled look came into her eyes and those same lips trembled slightly. So she was not entirely indifferent to him, then? Joe put his knife and fork carefully together, as he’d been taught to do as a boy by Rosie’s mother, and slowly got to his feet. ‘Maybe we could take a walk later, just you and me. You could show me round the village or summat. Not been there yet.’
‘I don’t get time off for gallivanting,’ Tilly protested, though not too firmly.
‘Well then, a five-minute stroll around the kitchen garden, mebbe, while the family is at dinner, surely wouldn’t come amiss.’
Tilly laughed. ‘Shows how much you know. It’s all hands to the pump when we’re serving.’ Picking up his plate she flounced over to the sink. ‘And don’t think you can win me round with your soft flattery.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I’m immune to such tricks.’
‘Course you are.’ Joe chuckled, then creeping up behind her, popped a kiss on the bare arch of her neck as she leant over the sink.
‘You cheeky monkey!’ Turning swiftly, she flicked soapsuds at him, but Joe was already running for cover. He was, however, pleased to note that she was laughing as much as he.
Chapter Ten
Tilly usually begged a lift with one of the carriers who went to visit his old mother in Fowey, which was just across the river from Polruan, where her own family lived. Rose, however, insisted on taking the carriage. Where was the point, she thought, in living in a fine house if she couldn’t take advantage of its benefits? Besides, her attitude towards the Tregowan family, Jago in particular, had changed dramatically since that dreadful day on the headland. In future she was determined not to allow herself to be intimidated by any of them, and, of course, she and Tilly had a pact never to leave little Robbie unguarded for a moment, nor ever allow Jago to take him out again.
Lady Tregowan, however, was most disapproving of her plan. ‘Where is it you wish to go in the carriage exactly?’ she asked, as if such a request was quite outrageous.
Rose cleared her throat, battling to hide the curl of nervousness she felt deep inside, while resolving not to explain what she had in mind. ‘I thought … that is, Tilly and I rather fancy a trip to Fowey. To show Robbie the boats.’
‘Don’t be foolish. What interest can a baby have in boats? Besides, I’m not even sure that the carriage is available. I may need it myself later.’
Bryce laughed. ‘You’ve just said that you intend to have a lie down to ease your aching head.’
‘I’ve decided a breath of fresh air will do it more good,’ Lydia snapped.
‘Then walk, Mama. Or take the governess cart, and allow Rose and Tilly to enjoy their outing. Rose isn’t a prisoner here and has as much right to the carriage as your good self.’
Lady Tregowan’s mouth actually fell open at this display of rebellion from her younger son, but before she managed to find her voice, Bryce was on his feet.
‘As a matter of fact, I need to visit Fowey myself. Would you have any objections to my accompanying you, Rose?’
‘N-no, of course not.’ Stunned by his offer, but touched by his support, Rose cast him a glance of fervent gratitude, then beat a hasty retreat before his mother found some other reason for preventing the trip.
Ten minutes later, with the baby in his bassinet beside her on the seat and Bryce sitting opposite, they were soon turning out through the main gates, and happily bowling along narrow country lanes between high Cornish hedges. Tilly had opted to sit up front with John, the driver, as she considered this more appropriate.
‘I hope you don’t object to my intruding on your little jaunt,’ Bryce said with a smile.
‘Not at all. The carriage is yours, after all.’
Bryce frowned. ‘Now that is a strange remark to make, for I believe it actually belongs to that little chap there.’
‘Oh, I suppose it does. I hadn’t thought.’ She really must take more care over the remarks she made. Rosalind would never have made such a silly mistake. But it wasn’t easy when inside her head she knew that she really didn’t have any right to a single thing, least of all free use of a fine carriage. ‘Well, I doubt he’ll be driving it any time soon.’ Rose couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of a baby sitting holding the reins.
Bryce chuckled too, then asked, ‘Does he always sleep so well?’
‘He’s a very good baby. Robbie only wakes when he’s hungry.’ As if to prove her wrong, he chose that moment to wake with a jolt and start to cry. Laughing, Rose picked him up to rock him against her shoulder. ‘He’s unused to the bumping of the carriage on the rough ground. Generally, he’s an absolute angel.’
‘I expect all mothers think the same of their offspring,’ Bryce said, finding himself entranced by the way her otherwise unremarkable features lit up into true beauty when she laughed. ‘You should smile more,’ he told her, the words out before he’d properly considered them. ‘Why don’t you?’
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