The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  ‘Their colour is a deep blood-red of crimson joy,’ she said, softly, ‘and their petals are dark folds of scented velvet. A symbol of love, longing and desire … yet elegant and regal.’

  The fire crackled in the grate as Janey’s words hung in the air between them. She waited anxiously; perhaps she had overdone the description in her haste to give a good impression. Lady Brockenshaw finally let out a sigh.

  ‘Beautiful,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I think we will get along very well.’

  She got up and made her way to the call bell, her fingers grazing the furniture and walls to guide herself to her goal.

  She pulled at the bell. ‘Miss Petherbridge will show you around and discuss your duties. She is an excellent housekeeper, but her manner can be a little stiff. I fear her nose may be put a little out of joint by my employing you. She may feel the position has come too easily for someone with no experience, but I am tired of my visual isolation and you will connect me to the world I miss so much through your words. However, Miss Petherbridge has earned her status through the years and exhibited excellent dedication. It would serve you well to stay on her good side.’

  There was a knock and the door opened. The housekeeper entered and was informed by Lady Brockenshaw that Janey would commence her employment the following week. Miss Petherbridge visibly bristled at the news. Janey smiled to offer her friendship. It was not returned.

  Moments later Janey was being marched around the manor by the housekeeper as she briskly relayed the duties of a lady’s maid.

  ‘Do not speak to your betters unless asked a question and reply in as few words as necessary. Do not speak to other staff in their presence unless absolutely necessary and if this is the case do so as quietly as possible.’ They passed into the dining room and out again to the master’s study. ‘A sign of a good servant is one that is not noticed by the members of the household. Staff shall not receive any friend or relative to the manor unless I or Mr Tallock, the butler, has given permission.’

  Janey was shown into the well-stocked library and following that, the music room with its grand piano. ‘The cost of breakages will be deducted from your wage which is twenty-four shillings a year. You are expected to be punctual to start work and attending meal times. Meals are served in the servants’ hall,’ she turned to Janey, ‘which I believe Mary has already shown you. It is your bonnet and shawl on the coat stand, is it not?’

  Janey realised Miss Petherbridge did not miss a thing. Before ascending to the attic to see her room, she was led into the main kitchen where she was introduced to some members of the staff.

  Mrs Friggens, the cook, was a round and rosy-cheeked woman with a cheery disposition and a tendency to be bossy. Janey could understand this as she had a lot of responsibility and instantly liked the woman. Then there was Mary and Lizzy, who undertook chambermaid and kitchen maid duties. Mary was a plain girl with a forthright manner, whereas Lizzy was blonde and quiet. Next was Charlotte, the scullery maid, who was timid, but appeared hardworking. Charlotte was the only one to greet her with a smile, but it was cut short by Miss Petherbridge stepping between them.

  ‘I do not have the time to introduce you to every member of staff on the estate, Carhart. There are too many and I have the impression that you will have no qualms about making your own introductions.’ Her nostrils flared slightly as she looked down the bridge of her nose at Janey and waited for her to reply. Janey bowed her head in acceptance, which seemed to please her. ‘I will show you to your room now,’ she said, leading the way out. Janey obediently followed.

  She was led to the servants’ quarters in the attic. The corridor was dimly lit and a faint odour of damp reached Janey’s nostrils. As they walked its wooden floor, Miss Petherbridge began to list her own personal duties.

  ‘You will be responsible for maintaining the mistress’s wardrobe: mending, laundering the delicates, starching and ironing the collars … all the usual care of her dresses.’ She smiled insincerely at her before continuing, ‘Other duties include laying out her clothes, helping her dress and dressing her hair, etc.’

  They now stood outside a door of one of the rooms. ‘As you may be aware, she cannot see so you will have extra duties which is why your writing made you stand out amongst the other applicants. You will be expected to write the mistress’s letters as she dictates them and read her personal correspondence to her. You will also be expected to read books and poetry to her and, finally, walk her dog. You are permitted to change into your day dress to carry out this task. The mistress retires for a nap for two hours in the afternoon, it is during this time you are expected to take her dog out. You are not afraid of dogs, are you?’

  ‘No, I am not,’ replied Janey, recalling the small, quiet dog by the fire.

  Miss Petherbridge opened the door into a small single bedroom with a bed, a chest of drawers, a washstand with a matching pitcher and bowl, and a chamber pot placed under the bed.

  ‘This is your room. As a lady’s maid you have certain privileges, one of which is having a room to yourself. You are expected to keep the room tidy and you are not permitted to have too many items crowding the room.’

  Janey entered and looked around. It was the first time since entering service that she had a room to herself. At last she could have some private space, be it only ten foot by ten foot. On the bed lay her uniform, a black dress with a starched white apron and frilly cap. She lightly touched the fabric, feeling its stiffness between her fingers.

  ‘How long have you wanted this?’ asked the housekeeper, who remained in the doorway.

  ‘Since entering service,’ replied Janey, surprised at the emotion welling up inside her. Miss Petherbridge observed her shrewdly.

  ‘So you are ambitious,’ said the woman. Janey felt cornered in the room as the housekeeper’s body now blocked the door. ‘With your education and parentage,’ she continued, ‘you, no doubt, feel that life as a domestic servant is beneath you. Now, as a lady’s maid, you are a little above them.’

  Janey shook her head in denial, but underneath wasn’t quite so sure if there was an element of truth to what Miss Petherbridge had said.

  ‘Perhaps you plan to be a housekeeper one day. Don’t think you will be filling my shoes, Carhart. I don’t plan on going anywhere. It is well to remember that.’

  Janey took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. She had been accepted for the post. It was quite an achievement at her age. Her parents would have been proud if they had lived, but then if her family had lived she would not be in the position she was in now. Life would have been very different – if her actions had not caused their deaths. Her uncle blamed her and Janey grew up believing the same. She had been trying to make up for it ever since by being the best she could be and worthy of still living. It was a daunting task.

  The sun was still shining and Janey walked back the way she had come. She remembered the dark stranger on the moor and her heart quickened. How sour she must have looked, perhaps this time when they met she would smile and bid him a good afternoon, after all they would be practically neighbours.

  As she approached her step slowed. He was gone. The repaired stone wall the only evidence he had existed at all. It was solid and beautiful, ready to protect the animals within against whatever the wild moor threw at it. Janey felt a sense of disappointment. She told herself it was because the sheep and their lambs had moved away to graze elsewhere, or perhaps it was the chill in the air turning the sunny day colder. It may also be, she had to admit, that she didn’t like the thought that the man had been left with a bad impression of her – although why she should care she did not know.

  She saw Jack waving in the distance, patiently waiting in his cart at the crossroads. Returning his wave she picked up her skirts and ran towards him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Out of courtesy, Janey informed her uncle of her new position. He did not reply. He never did. His continual rejection hurt her every time, so she did what she had always done since entering
service – immersed herself in her work.

  She soon fell into a routine that formed a structure to her day. Rising early, she brought Lady Brockenshaw her tea in bed, discussed and prepared her clothes for the day, and helped her to dress. Whilst her mistress breakfasted with her husband, Janey tidied her room and sorted out potential washing and mending. After breakfast she escorted her ladyship to her boudoir, where Janey remained with her for the rest of the morning. During this time she read her correspondence to her mistress and replied on her behalf, other times she read books and poetry, chosen from the manor’s extensive library. On warm days, Janey escorted Lady Brockenshaw around the gardens or on a carriage ride. Throughout the day, especially during these excursions, she would describe in detail what she could see so that her mistress was able to enjoy as much of the experience as possible.

  However it was when Lady Brockenshaw retired for a nap that Janey enjoyed her duties the most. After changing into her day dress, she would fetch her mistress’s little King Charles spaniel, called Charlie, and head for the open space of the moor. During these walks she was free from her other duties and away from the remaining staff.

  Only a few of the domestic staff had welcomed her. Mrs Friggens and Mr Tallock accepted her as a new member of staff and, although they did not fully agree that a girl of only twenty should have such a position, were not threatened by her. She was not a cook and would never be considered for a butler post. These facts allowed them to be generous and treat her in the manner her position warranted. The remaining indoor servants, led by Mary, treated her with suspicion, just as Miss Petherbridge had warned and the housekeeper did little to discourage it.

  On her first day of work Miss Petherbridge made it abundantly clear she did not agree with her mistress’s choice. She showed her resentment by rarely addressing Janey and did not invite her to take tea in her parlour to discuss the running of the house, an invitation that was preserved for the higher members of staff, of which she was one. This blatant snub by the housekeeper, which surprisingly was not contradicted by the butler who appeared to take a submissive role to his peer, gave momentum to Mary’s treatment of her and where Mary led, Charlotte and Lizzy followed. The remaining indoor staff watched silently from the sidelines, mindful of who wielded the power over them. It was not Janey they had to curry favour with, it was Miss Petherbridge’s displeasure and Mary’s sharp tongue they had to avoid.

  Mary and Janey had only one thing in common – they were both twenty years of age and there the similarity ended. Where Janey had risen through the ranks, Mary had not and took no joy in domestic servitude. She hated working within a big house and resented the class divide and the submissive role she had to take. Where Janey was educated and well spoken, Mary had disliked school and where Janey had no close family to confide in, Mary’s family was large and lived in Trehale.

  Envious of Janey’s position of superiority, Mary took pleasure in pointing out to Lizzy and Charlotte what she believed to be the detrimental changes Janey’s presence was making in the household. They noticed that Janey’s opinion was valued by Lady Brockenshaw and her influence showed in the change of their mistress’s dress and hairstyle. Suddenly the cage and crinoline dresses she had worn in the past were no longer desired and a dressmaker was commissioned to make dresses incorporating a fashionable bustle. Once satisfied with a centre parting and low chignon, their ladyship began to wear her hair high with decorative combs and slides.

  The servants could not understand why a blind woman should be so concerned with fashion. Janey, however, did and her ladyship valued Janey’s unique empathy for her position. Their relationship quickly became close and within days her mistress had stopped using her surname to address her. This unusual privilege was noticed by Mary and the housekeeper and resentment for Janey grew. If she could change how her ladyship dressed, they asked themselves, what other changes could she make? It was their alienation and missing her friends from her previous job that led Janey to take comfort in a most unlikely source.

  Lady Brockenshaw doted on her only son, James, often talking about him with such pride and indulgence that Janey grew to admire the portrait she painted of him with her words. While Janey dressed her hair, Lady Brockenshaw would retreat to her memories of his childhood, taking joy in relating these stories to her captive audience as she combed and pinned her hair from behind. Then, of course, there were his letters.

  James Brockenshaw was an avid writer, if not a regular visitor. Letters regularly arrived, written in his familiar neat hand and it was Janey who opened and read them to her mistress. His letters gave his mother great joy, they provided an escapism as he described his adventures, his plans to visit, but overall they reflected a considerate son who adored his mother and enjoyed her love in return. When Janey held his letters in her hand and read the elegantly written words that he had not long before written, she began to experience an intimacy and a strange closeness with the man she had never met. If she had not felt so isolated and alone in those initial weeks she may have seen the letters for what they were, but in her loneliness any kind word held value and she appreciated it all the more. Soon she found herself looking forward to reading his letters as much as his mother did hearing them and she replied to his correspondence in the neatest handwriting she could produce.

  He had spent much of the summer with his friends in Bath but was planning to return next month and his latest letter told his mother about the friends he hoped to bring with him. Suddenly the topic in his letter changed and she found that she was reading praise from him to the writer of his mother’s letters. Janey’s voice trailed off as she read the last sentence, her face blushing at his praise. Her mistress’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘My son never misses the opportunity to bestow a compliment,’ Lady Brockenshaw announced, smiling. ‘I shall enjoy James being home again. Life can be rather dull without him.’ Janey reread the last sentence to herself again, taking pleasure in his words. Her hand shook slightly with excitement, a connection had been made between them, as fragile as a spider’s web but a connection none the less. During a time when the majority of her peers resented her presence he had reached out and touched her with his praise – and she savoured it and thought more of him for it.

  As James’s arrival date neared, the tension and excitement rose in the servants’ quarters as extra work was created for all. The guest bedrooms were thoroughly cleaned, extra wine delivered and extra food deliveries were arranged. Miss Petherbridge directed the operations like a major in charge of an army, thriving on the responsibility and position as supervisor and, while she took stock of her orders in her office, the latest delivery arrived. Lizzy heard the cartwheels trundle into the yard before the other staff and she looked out of the window, as she wiped her red chapped hands on her apron.

  ‘Who is that?’ asked Lizzy, craning her neck to get a better view. The girls, including Mrs Friggens, joined her to look; even Janey left her sewing to see what had taken their interest. She instantly recognised the man unloading a churn of milk from the cart in the back courtyard. It was the man who had been building the stone wall.

  ‘That’s Daniel Kellow,’ replied Mary, nudging her way to the front to get the best view. ‘He owns the farm next door. He is a friend of my brother,’ she added, proudly.

  ‘He’s lovely!’ Charlotte, the scullery maid, sighed. Mrs Friggens rolled her eyes and went back to her cooking, whilst the four girls watched in silence, each one admiring the strength in his body as he unloaded another churn of milk and half a slaughtered pig. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing muscular forearms tanned by the sun. With ease he lifted the heavy items onto his shoulder and carried them to the dairy and cold room. He did not appear to notice the girls watching and they followed his movements, mesmerised by his animal grace.

  Finally he finished, climbed up into the cart and picked up the reins. He casually turned to look at them, his smouldering eyes homing in on Janey – and he winked, b
efore flicking the reins and driving his cart away. Janey sank back into the shadows, mortified he had caught her watching him and had singled her out. What an arrogant man. Did he think she would be flattered by a twitch of his eye? His crass behaviour could not have come at a worst time. Lizzy and Charlotte’s attitude towards her had only just begun to thaw. She did not need this stranger to come between them.

  ‘He winked at you!’ exclaimed Charlotte, turning to Janey.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ denied Janey, resuming her seat at the table and taking an interest in her sewing. She stabbed at her needlework as the girls circled her and began to question her further. Mrs Friggens saw her discomfort and ordered the girls to return to their chores.

  ‘If you girls have any sense you’ll keep away from Daniel Kellow,’ she said, looking at Lizzy. ‘He’d take you in and spit you out in a blink of an eye. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly.’ The implied insult did not register with Lizzy.

  ‘How does he own a farm? Most are tenant farmers around here, aren’t they?’ Lizzy asked.

  Mrs Friggens returned to the bread she was making.

  ‘When he was a lad he was caught thieving in the village by Zachariah Trebilcock, the farmer who owned the neighbouring farm. Well, Zachariah, in his wisdom, gave the boy a home as he had no family.’ She looked about her to see if there were any eavesdroppers. ‘He’s illegitimate and his mother had died.’

  Janey felt a surge of sympathy for the boy of all those years ago, if not the man he was today. She pretended not to listen but her ears strained to hear.

  ‘Mind you,’ Mrs Friggens continued, ‘I bet there were times Zachariah wished he hadn’t. There were many an occasion he had to bring Daniel home after some fight or other and, of course, when he was a young man of sixteen … well,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘there were quite a few fathers knocking on their door and warning him off their daughters, I can tell you. Not that the daughters minded.’