The day came when Lady Ravensworth and her few chosen servants made ready to leave. They were going by train to London and then on to France by steamer. Her Ladyship called the remaining staff in one by one and gave them each a small gift. Kate’s turn came.
‘Ah, my singing girl from Jarrow,’ Her Ladyship smiled. ‘You at least have helped brighten up this dull place these past months.’
Kate blushed. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ She curtsied and took the parcel offered. She hesitated, then dared to ask, ‘Will you be coming back, Your Ladyship?’
‘Of course! Why ever not?’
‘I just hoped you would be - you’ve been that kind to me, ma’am.’
Emma smiled and touched her cheek. ‘You are a sweet child. And I hope you’ll still be here when I get back.’
‘Ma’am.’ Kate curtsied again. As she turned to go, Emma spoke as an afterthought.
‘My nightingale,’ she mused. ‘That’s what he called you.’
Kate started. ‘Ma’am?’
‘A friend of mine - that was his pet name for you, ever since he heard you sing at the servants’ dance. My nightingale. It used to amuse me.’
‘Who said, Ma’am?’ Kate had to ask.
‘Mr Pringle-Davies.’
Kate’s heart thumped in shock at hearing his name. He had spoken of her with Her Ladyship! They had laughed about her together. Had he told her of their secret trysts by the lakeside and amused her with that too? She flushed red at the thought.
Kate rushed from the room quickly before Her Ladyship could see the tears of humiliation flood her eyes. Well, she wouldn’t be the butt of their little jokes any longer, now that the house was being closed up and only the favoured few were travelling with the dowager.
Later, she opened her gift and found a piece of lace wrapped around a small metal brooch with a painted bird of paradise in china blue. It was beautiful and Kate felt guilty at her resentful thoughts and wished she had waved harder at the departing carriage. Lady Ravensworth would have meant no slight by the comment. What if they had discussed her? She was a lowly servant, nothing more, remarkable only in her ability to sing with an untrained voice.
Miss Peters lost no time in shutting up the hall. Kate was called in the next day.
‘You can stay on till the end of the week, then you’re no longer needed.’
‘B-but Her Ladyship said she’d be coming back,’ Kate stuttered.
‘That’s no business of yours. We don’t need a full staff all winter. A strong girl like you will find work back where you come from.’
Kate felt winded. Go back? She had no intention of doing that!
‘There must be some’at I can do here?’
‘Not at Farnacre.’ Miss Peters was abrupt. ‘Nor at the castle.’
Kate felt quick annoyance. They were all the same, these jumped-up housekeepers and parlour maids who thought themselves better than the likes of her just because of a bit of extra frill on their uniform! She was a Fawcett - the daughter of a skilled steelman and friend of highborn Liddells - not some peasant’s offspring!
‘I’ll give you a good reference,’ Miss Peters said as if bestowing a great favour. ‘I’m sure some public laundry or local merchant would be happy to employ you.’
‘There’s no need,’ Kate said proudly. ‘I’ll not be looking for laundry work. I’ll find me own position, ta very much.’ She stormed from the room, livid with anger. She would show them all!
But as the week wore on and Kate’s temper subsided, she began to fret about what to do. Aunt Lizzie was sympathetic but fatalistic.
‘You’ve had a grand time of it, but all good things come to an end. Maybe it’s time for you to go home and help your mam again, eh? Maggie says our Rose is struggling to manage at the cottage, with her legs so bad.’
‘But I want to stay!’
Alfred joined in. ‘I want Kate to stay an’ all. Kate can stay and Mary can go and help Aunt Rose.’
Kate and Lizzie exchanged amused looks.
‘Why don’t you go and see Mary?’ Lizzie suggested.
‘She’ll never agree to gan back home.’
‘No, but she hears all the comings and goings at the inn. If there’s work to be had you’ll hear about it there.’
Doubtful, Kate decided to pay Mary a visit, even if it was just to say goodbye before returning heavy-hearted to Jarrow. It was her last chance. But her sister was out running an errand for the landlord when Kate called. Bram Taylor was a large, red-cheeked man who puffed and wheezed like bellows as he walked.
‘Is Suky in then?’ Kate asked, disappointed to miss her sister.
‘No, she’s up and left,’ he grumbled. ‘Gone to marry her pit lad.’
Kate felt dashed. Then a thought suddenly struck her. ‘So you’ll be needing a bit help?’ she said with a quick smile.
Bram Taylor eyed the smart young woman before him. ‘Aye, reckon we do. Do you know of someone?’
‘Aye, I’m looking for a job.’
‘You? I thought you worked up at the castle?’
‘Worked for the dowager Lady Ravensworth,’ Kate said in her most ladylike manner, ‘but she’s gone abroad for the winter. I’m looking for something to see me over.’
Taylor’s eyes lit with interest, yet he was cautious. Why was someone with Kate’s good looks and manners looking for work in a public house?
‘You’re not in any trouble, are you?’
‘Course not.’ Kate was offended. ‘I’m a hard worker and I want to stay in the country.’
That seemed good enough for Taylor. ‘When can you start?’
‘Day after the morra, if you like.’
‘Done. Mary can gan up and help bring your bags down.’
Kate said quickly, ‘I can manage on me own.’ She wasn’t sure how Mary would take to the idea of her working there, let alone being told to fetch and carry for her. But she could tell by the pleased look on the landlord’s face that he thought he had just employed a lass of quality who would be good for business.
Two days later, Kate was working at the inn and sharing a cramped attic bedroom with Mary once more. Her sister did not seem too dismayed at the situation, for Kate brought all the inside gossip from Farnacre and the castle.
‘Just like old times, sharing a bed again, eh?’ Kate teased.
‘Aye, and we’re sharing all the chores an’ all,’ Mary reminded her.
For a few weeks it went well and the two sisters spent their half-days off together, going up to Kibblesworth to see Suky and her young husband in their own two-roomed house. Bill was a hewer, a skilled pitman on good wages, whom Suky had chosen with her head as much as her heart. Still, they both seemed content enough.
‘Glad you’re getting on grand at the inn,’ Suky said.
‘It’s thanks to me she got the job,’ Mary boasted. ‘Told Mr Taylor she was a hard grafter.’
Kate said nothing to spoil Mary’s story, for she did not mind her taking the credit. But just before Christmas, their old wrangling started again.
‘How come you get to serve at table instead of me?’ Mary demanded tearfully after a hectic night. ‘I should have that job.’
‘It’s that busy,’ Kate said, flopping down in exhaustion on the icy bed. ‘He just asked me, that’s all.’
‘Just ‘cos you put on airs and graces - pretend you’re better than the rest of us.’
‘No I don’t - I just work harder than some.’
‘Meaning me, I suppose? Well, just look at me hands - red raw with washing up in cold water! While you get to serve at table and behind the bar. Gabbing on with all the lads - I’ve heard you.’
‘I’m just being civil to the customers like Mr Taylor wants.’
‘Hark at her! “Civil to the customers
.” Stop talking all posh.’
Kate lost patience. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want your twisty face putting them off.’
Mary kicked her under the covers. ‘I hate you! You always get what you want - just ‘cos butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’ Then she burst into floods of tears.
Kate remembered what it had been like at home and her heart sank. The only difference was that there wasn’t John McMullen to fuel the criticism of her. She’d put up with Taylor’s demands for hard work any day. Turning over, she put out her arms and tried to comfort her resentful sister.
They went home briefly for Boxing Day and swapped news with Sarah and their mother, who insisted she could still manage at the cottage without them. Mary went off to visit Aunt Maggie but they caught the same train together back to Lamesley.
‘Glad I’m not stopping at home any longer,’ Mary said. ‘One day back’s enough for me.’
Kate silently agreed. After that, Mary was less complaining and Kate did her best to share the serving in the parlour. But Taylor preferred her behind the bar where she was cheerful and obliging and popular with the customers. She could deal swiftly and firmly with drunks without causing a scene. Taylor was impressed with the way she could humour them and steer them out. Kate kept quiet about the years of practice she had had with her stepfather.
On New Year’s Eve, the inn was full of revellers and it took little persuasion for Kate to sing to the crowds. Taylor was delighted with the amount of beer drunk that night. As 1904 progressed, he encouraged her to sing whenever custom was slow and word spread of the barmaid’s lusty voice.
Then, abruptly in February, the third earl died and the estate was plunged into mourning again.
‘His Lordship has no heirs,’ Hannah told her when they met up one Sunday. ‘There’s no one to carry on the line.’
‘So what will happen?’ Kate asked.
Hannah shrugged. ‘There’s talk of a cousin coming to live here. But nothing’s certain. And there’s poor Lady Caroline just moved up here and left all alone. Two dowagers and only one Farnacre!’
‘Is there any news of Lady Emma?’
‘Not a dicky bird. But she’ll have to come back for the funeral, I wouldn’t wonder. Unless she’s found herself a French count.’
‘She’s not like that!’ Kate protested. ‘She just likes company.’
‘Well, they’ll have to sort out who goes where and who gets what. The place’ll be full of lawyers and land agents again.’
Kate’s heart leapt. Perhaps Alexander would return.
‘Has that Mr Pringle-Davies been back at all?’ She held her breath.
Hannah shook her head. ‘Not since the summer. I think Lily was right - he must’ve been sweet on the dowager. Maybe he’s out in France with her. It’s the old man Davies who’s been seeing to His Lordship’s business, according to Lily. Mark my words, the young ‘un will turn up like a bad penny once Lady Emma comes home.’
‘You shouldn’t speak about them like that,’ Kate reproved.
‘And who’s going to hear? Anyway, why you so loyal to Lady Emma when you lost your job at Farnacre?’
‘Still hoping if she comes back I might be started on again,’ Kate said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by Mary or the cook.
‘Well, who can say?’ Hannah sighed. ‘It’s all a mess.’
A week later, Kate stood on the hard, frosty ground outside Lamesley church and watched the funeral procession. She peered at the mourners as they descended from their carriages and her heart skipped a beat to see a figure like Lady Ravensworth wrapped in a black velvet cloak step forward. Her face was veiled, but when she saw James Wadsworth help her down, Kate knew it was her. She had come back! Perhaps there would be a chance of returning to Farnacre Hall after all.
There was no sign of Alexander, and Kate’s feelings were mixed. She had longed to catch sight of him, yet if he was not in attendance then the rumours about him and Lady Ravensworth might not be true. She could not wait to discuss it all with Hannah.
But to her disappointment, her friend came with the news that Lady Emma had gone away again as soon as the funeral was over.
‘Where? Back to France?’ Kate asked in dismay.
‘Don’t know; not even Lily can find out.’
There was much talk at the inn about the dealings at the castle. Agents and lawyers for the two dowagers stayed or called in for refreshment. Their coaches stopped at the inn to water and stable the horses. The earldom was now extinct, but a cousin, Arthur Thomas, and his wife, Sophia, were to inherit the barony of Ravensworth and would be moving into the castle. Lady Caroline was moving into Farnacre, but it was rumoured she wished to retire south.
Surely Lady Emma would return and claim her home? Kate thought in concern.
Spring came. Kate took a walk up to Ravensworth to visit her aunt and uncle, and to see the swaying blanket of daffodils lining the drive.
Passing the gates and ivy-clad walls of Farnacre Hall, she slowed and peered through the iron railings. The shutters were bolted at the downstairs windows and no smoke wafted from the many chimneypots. It looked quite deserted.
She found Lizzie at her door, in deep conversation with a neighbour. Alfred bounded forward to greet her.
‘I’ve got a new mouse - come and see!’
Kate hugged him and took his hand, greeting the women. As Alfred pulled her past them she asked about Farnacre.
‘It looks all closed up. Has Lady Caroline gone?’
‘Aye,’ Lizzie nodded.
‘So Lady Emma’s coming back then?’ She brightened.
The two women exchanged glances.
‘She’ll not come back now,’ the neighbour said with a disapproving frown. ‘I thought you would have heard down at the inn by now.’
‘Heard what?’
Her aunt looked uncomfortable. ‘Not in front of the bairn.’
‘Come on, Kate!’ Alfred was impatient.
‘You go and fetch the mouse,’ Kate encouraged, ‘while I have a word with your mam.’ He sped off inside. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked nervously.
‘Gone and got herself wed, that’s what!’ the neighbour snorted. ‘And her still in mourning for His Lordship. It’s a disgrace.’
Kate’s heart thudded in alarm. ‘Wed? Never so soon.’
‘Aye - and to that upstart,’ the woman complained. ‘The shame of it!’
Kate felt sick. ‘Who - who’s she married?’
Her aunt looked agitated as if she could not bring herself to say the name.
‘Is it Mr Pringle-Davies?’ Kate asked hoarsely.
They both gave her a strange look. For a moment no one spoke. Finally the neighbour said, ‘It was no gentleman. ‘Twas that footman James Wadsworth.’
Kate gawped at them in disbelief. ‘Mr Wadsworth? Never in the world!’
‘It’s as true as I’m standing here.’
Lizzie nodded in agreement.
Kate threw back her head and laughed in relief. They stared at her as if she’d gone mad.
‘It’s nowt to laugh about, hinny,’ Lizzie reproved. ‘It’s a scandal, that’s what it is.’
Chapter 17
Alexander returned in the early summer to the uproar of Emma’s swift marriage.
‘And to her footman!’ Jeremiah said with scorn. ‘She should still be in widow’s weeds, not taking another husband. And what a husband! What’s the world coming to when the ruling class start marrying their servants? Nobody knows where they stand!’
Alexander tried to hide his amusement at his father’s ranting, though it came as a shock to him too. Emma married to James Wadsworth, her handsome footman, and he half her age! Like himself, James must be about twenty-eight, no more. He felt a mixture of pique and admiration.
> ‘Where are they living?’
‘Not at Ravensworth, that’s for certain,’ Jeremiah spluttered. ‘No, no. They’ve taken some mansion in Newcastle; near Jesmond Dene, I’m told.’ He looked at his tall son in alarm. ‘You’re not to go there.’
Alexander just smiled. ‘It’ll blow over. The gossips will tire of them and find someone else to prey on.’
‘Maybe.’ Jeremiah cleared his throat and returned to the more certain ground of business.
Alexander spent the first couple of weeks contentedly at home. The long voyage back from South America had left him weak. Stormy weather and bouts of bleeding had confined him to his cabin and sapped him of strength. He had returned leaner, his face gaunt and weather-beaten. Travel had changed him. He had fallen in love with the open pampas of Argentina, a country of strong sunlight and baked hills, where he could ride for days without interruption.
He had attempted to fall in love with a woman, but his heart had not been in it. Kate Fawcett’s blushing features and easy laughter plagued him, though he knew he was being absurd. Perhaps he had fallen in love with his own drawings and not the real woman at all. For how could he love a simple maid whom he hardly knew? Yet, from the distance of thousands of miles, the rigid class barriers of England did not seem such an obstacle.
A month went by and he regained his strength. When his father suggested he accompany him on a trip to Ravensworth to meet Lord Thomas, Alexander jumped at the chance.
The castle seemed to bustle with as much life as ever, he was pleased to see. Lord and Lady Thomas were genial company and entertained them to lunch. But there was no question of him resuming the close family friendship of old. Alexander excused himself and said he needed fresh air.
‘His constitution’s not as robust since he’s been away,’ Jeremiah explained. ‘But he’s well enough. Quite able to take up the reins when I retire.’
Alexander groaned inwardly as he escaped on to the terrace. His father had been talking of retirement ever since his return. And he was pressing him about a betrothal to Polly De Winton once more. He could not evade it for ever.
A Child of Jarrow Page 15