The Windsor Girl

by Sylvia Burton

  ‘How could they do this to you? How could anyone be so vicious? Who did it Kate? Who used the leather?’

  ‘It was Mister Blunt that did it. Miss Maud was there too, it was horrible. It hurts so much Ellie’.

  ‘Don't worry Kate and try to get some sleep’. Ellie got up, placed her shawl over her nightshirt, and left the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Some of the kitchen workers were still at work in the kitchen when Ellie walked in. Cook looked up in surprised to see Ellie in her night attire.

  ‘Good heavens girl, what do you think you are about? Coming down here dressed like that?’

  ‘I would like to speak to Mister Blunt, if you please Cook’, said Ellie, firmly.

  Missus Blunt was quite taken aback, ‘well, I don’t know if that’s possible Ellie, can I deal with this?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, it’s Mister Blunt I want to see and I will wait all night if I must’.

  ‘What is it Missus Blunt?’ The voice was that of William. He looked at Ellie in disbelief.

  Cook flustered for a second, ‘It’s Ellie, William’.

  ‘Yes I can see that’, said William. His conscience bothered him as he realised why she was looking so angry.

  His wife said, ‘she wants to speak to you dear. But I really do think she ought not to have come downstairs dressed that way’.

  ‘Well, let the girl speak for herself. What is it Ellie?’

  Ellie’s eyes were smouldering, ‘it’s about Kate, Mister Blunt’.

  William thought as much. ‘Come with me Ellie. Somewhere we can have a chat’.

  She followed him to a small office where he often dealt with the tradesmen. He held open the door and allowed her into the room first, then, closed the door behind them. He looked at Ellie, once more, marvelling at her lovely face.

  His thoughts were quite involuntary, and absolutely out of order, considering the circumstances. Nevertheless, he mused, with nostalgia, ‘I do believe you are lovelier than ever with this wild anger in you’.

  He had never seen his Sarah angry. Oh that he could have! But if he had, he knew she would have looked exactly like this.

  He forced his thoughts to the back of his mind and addressed Ellie.

  ‘I know what you are about to say and I know how you must feel, but there was no alternative. It was a serious offence’.

  ‘She stole three eggs, for goodness sake. Three eggs!’

  ‘Stealing is stealing no matter how little’.

  ‘But to beat her so badly is barbaric’.

  ‘I think you have said enough Ellie’. He was distressed by her manner and spoke sternly.

  Ellie looked defiant, ‘well I have something else to say before I return to my bed. The eggs were for me. If that were not so, this would not have happened, so I too am at fault. You must beat me too’.

  ‘Now Ellie, you are distraught. And I understand, but you are not to blame. You did not steal anything and would never do such a thing’.

  ‘I say you should beat me too because it was, mostly, my fault’.

  ‘I’ll do no such thing’. William was adamant, now feeling quite desperate.

  A voice bellowed from across the room, ‘she’s right of course. She must be beaten. She admits she is in the wrong and if you won’t do it, then I will’.

  They both turned to see Miss Maud, hands on huge hips, standing by the door.

  William looked from Miss Maud to Ellie. He was being forced into beating the girl, and although it was the last thing he wanted to do, he now had no choice and would have to steel himself to the task.

  His voice hardened, ‘all right, I will beat her. But not for your eyes, Miss Maud’, he snapped, ‘Come with me Ellie’. He took her by the hand and marched her, briskly, to the wine cellar. He slammed the door behind him, took the strap from the wall and said, ‘well?’

  Ellie turned her back to him and leaned against the table. The blows reigned down on her back and she had to clench her teeth so as not to cry out.

  Then it was over. With tears, in her eyes, she turned around.

  ‘May I go now?’ she said.

  ‘Yes Ellie. Go back to bed’.

  William averted his eyes as Ellie left the cellar. She did not see the pain in his eyes, nor the tears, slowly staining his, once handsome, face. He collapsed on the stool and with his head in his hands, repeated, ‘Oh Ellie. Ellie. Sarah, my Sarah!’

  William was never to forget the pain and anguish of that night, whilst Ellie had forgotten, and forgiven, by the time the marks on her back were healed.

  Immediately after luncheon on Sunday afternoon, the whole of the staff were summoned to the drawing room. Most of the kitchen staff had been there before and, of course, some of them were employed to work upstairs.

  Even the lowest grade of servant had experienced this ritual, at Christmas and other important times, in Missus Courtney’s diary. For Ellie, this was to be the first time.

  Cook noticed how drab Ellie’s skirt looked and decided it was about time she has some other dress, for occasions such as this, but she didn't have time to sort it out at the moment.

  She called all the staff together and lined them up in order of position. She, herself, would be at the front, with her husband, and then would come Robert Thrush, the Valet. Next in line would be Doris, the upstairs maid.

  There were Violet and Molly, who worked as kitchen maids and, bringing up the rear, would be Kate and Ellie. Missus Blunt hoped the Mistress would be too busy to notice how drab the young girls looked.

  Young Jimmy hadn't been allowed to attend as he had no shoes, of any kind, and his clothes were little more than rags. Cook would make sure that she saved him an Easter egg.

  The household employed another upstairs maid and three chamber maids but they did not live in so were not required to come, unless, they were on duty Sunday duty.

  ‘Kate. Ellie’, she called to the back of the line, ‘take off your aprons and straighten your caps. Violet, there’s some flour on your nose’. Then she addressed them all, ‘I hope you have all washed your hands?’

  Good!’ She said as they all mumbled and nodded.

  Missus Blunt inspected the staff and was pleased with most of them. The kitchen maids looked nice in their long blue dresses and white collars and cuffs. Doris always looked crisp and fresh in her black dress, white frilly apron and frilled cap. Everyone was ready.

  Miss Maud made her appearance, accompanied by Robert Thrush, in his dark grey suit and waistcoat. Lillian Marsh, the Still Room maid, who assisted the housekeeper in her work, followed on behind.

  The nurse, Miss Claremont, and Mable Grant, Missus Courtney’s personal maid, were already upstairs and were not required to attend with the kitchen staff.

  Miss Maud walked slowly down the line of workers, making sure that Cook had not missed anything. She checked that all caps were on straight and uniforms in order. She ‘tut tutted’ at the sight of the two scullery maids when she came to the end of the procession. She noted that the attire of these two girls was quite unsuitable for presentation to the Mistress. However, they would just have to keep quiet and hope that no one, of any importance, noticed them She sniffed loudly before retracing her steps back to Missus Blunt.

  Miss Maud led the servants up to the Courtney Residence, via the ‘forbidden stairs’, up which Ellie had not yet ventured.

  As they reached the main hall of the house Ellie was amazed by the colour of everything. Her life, so far, had been one of dark, drab clothes and dark rooms. She viewed, with wonder, the pale green carpet, patterned with swirls of leaves and flowers of many, and varied, colours. The beautiful glass bowls, covering the gas mantels, were placed every three feet along the length of the hall and guilt framed paintings seemed to be everywhere.

  There were several tall doors of grained wood, at either side of the vast gallery, and it was into one of these that they were directed. Every one of the servants were aware of the thickness of the dark blue carpet square which
covered, almost all, of the floor area of the large room.

  Kate informed Ellie that this was known as the ‘drawing room’, and was the ‘grandest room in the house’. Ellie was inclined to believe her friend. It was grand, all right; she could hardly believe the array of such beauty. Heavy drapes of velvet adorned the big bay windows, where plants of trailing foliage sat on the wide sills. The papered walls were covered with delicate watercolours, porcelain plaques and painted masks. Highly polished side tables bore, still more plants and china figurines of pretty maidens and handsome young men.

  In the centre of the room was a fireplace of white marble, with copper fire irons, which shone like new. Standing in front of the grate was a large copper fan, constructed in the likeness of a Peacock with tail feathers displayed in all their glory. Ellie was fascinated with the richness of the room and no sooner had her eyes alighted on one thing, than something else caught her attention.

  Missus Blunt tapped her, lightly, on the shoulder, ‘don’t look around too much dear. Missus Courtney will be here shortly and we don’t want her to think we are common, do we?’ She smiled, kindly, at Ellie taking in her lovely hair, topped with the shabby mop cap, and finished by adding, ‘there’s a good girl’.

  Just at that moment, the Mistress walked into the room, her maid close behind her. Missus Courtney spoke in a clear voice to all assembled there.

  ‘Good afternoon everyone’ she purred, ‘so good of you all to be on time. I always say it is a sign of excellent manners’.

  She was dressed in a suit of emerald green, the hem of the skirt resting on neat buckled shoes. Her jacket was an elaborate affair with a large bustle and an array of decorative buttons, from the high neck, to the hem of the skirt. The same buttons were attached to the large cuffs.

  Louise Courtney was a lady of fashion and considered to be one of the best-dressed ladies in the region. Her hair was the colour of fire and was drawn into a bun at the nape of her neck. A large brimmed hat, topped with feathers of the same green, completed the outfit. To Ellie she looked like a Queen.

  The Mistress smiled, her eyes travelling around the room, seeming to rest for a moment on each face in turn. Cook noticed that Missus Courtney’s glance lingered a little longer on Ellie. She wished, once more, that she had organised some new clothes for the two girls.

  ‘Goodness knows what she will think’, she thought, but had some satisfaction in the knowledge that such things were the responsibility of the housekeeper and Miss Maud had deliberately delayed the making of the garments.

  The Mistress continued with her little speech, outlining her various charity works for the poor, desperate, people of the City, declaring how satisfying it was to help ‘poor unfortunates’ by serving them free soup at the Church Hall.

  She finished with a smile, which took in all the assembled servants.

  ‘You must all consider yourselves among the privileged few, who are cared for by good, responsible, employers. I am sure each one of you know that, so I will say nothing more about it but asked you all to line up for your Easter egg’.

  The Mistress, with yet another smile, added, ‘oh yes. You are to be the first ones to receive an egg as I believe that charity begins at home’.

  Kate stole a glance at Ellie, at the mention of the eggs, but lowered her eyes as her friend looked back at her with a sombre expression.

  A basket of the decorated eggs were placed on the table and, one by one, the servants approached the Mistress and were handed this small token. Each egg was marked with their name, and in return for this gift the Mistress received a curtsey from the female staff and a bow of the head from the men. Twenty minutes after they had climbed the stairs, they were back in the kitchen.

  The rest of the day was spent in a pleasant, holiday atmosphere and the day’s work was finished a little earlier than usual.

  When the rest of the kitchen staff had retired, William and his wife were about to have a late drink of hot cocoa. The Cook, having been talking to her husband and getting no response, said sharply, ‘William. Are you listening to me?’

  William again said nothing but was standing still, looking down, at the table. Missus Blunt went to his side and, she too, was silent. There on the table, sitting neatly side by side, and each marked with a name, were two small, decorated Easter eggs.

  In the days that followed, no mention was made of this incident and the eggs were quietly removed.

  Chapter Nine

  Victoria Barnstable manoeuvred her large, awkward, invalid carriage across the breakfast room and helped herself to a second cup of tea.

  She was pleased they were not eating in the dining room. She couldn’t stand the place and considered this a much more pleasant room. The French windows were open, to the bright summer’s day, and she could smell the scent of the Stocks from across the garden.

  Victoria had not seen the children for a couple of days. Little Beth had a slight cold so she had decided to leave her in the capable hands of Miss Claremont.

  She was a good nurse and had come to her, with excellent references, shortly after the birth of her daughter, five years ago. She was especially good with babies and Victoria, freely admitted, she hardly knew she had Samuel. She had rarely heard him cry and he was now fifteen months old.

  She had felt a little uneasy, since she had dismissed Samuel’s ‘wet nurse’, last week and was afraid that he would miss the breast milk, which flowed, in great quantity, from Missus Brown’s ample bosom. Of course, Missus Brown was also nursing another, younger child in the area so she had no difficulty in keeping her supply of milk. No doubt she now had another child to replace Samuel. The thought made her sad. However, it was just as well that someone could do such things, as the very thought of a baby suckling at her own, small, breasts was absolutely repulsive to her.

  As she sipped her tea, Victoria thought, thank God for the Missus Browns of this world. What would we do without them?’

  Her brother, Richard, had said that the name of Brown was perfect for such a woman. ‘Brown cow’, he called her when she was out of earshot. Richard could be unkind sometimes but the same could not be said of her younger brother, James.

  James was a gentleman, in every sense of the word, and if little Miss Lucy Musgrove had any sense, she would grab him for a husband before anyone else did. They had been seeing each other for a while now and he seemed very fond of her. One only had to see them together to realise how much she liked him, but somehow, he never seemed over excited by her presence.

  Victoria had to admit that it was often difficult to know what James was thinking as he was always so nice to everyone he came into contact with.

  He was away at the moment, working the farm in York. The farm was owned by the family, along with a good size Country House, and James worked the numerous acres with only a couple of local men to help him. Her mother had commented on how incredible it was that he managed with only one girl, acting as servant to him. Had it been Richard, he would need an army of maids and valets.

  Unlike Richard, James loved the farm and all that went with the ‘life in the country’. George had also loved the life there, and was always reluctant to return to the city, even for their brief visits to her parents, but he loved his wife dearly and usually went along with her wishes.

  In those days the county house had a full complement of staff and life was wonderful.

  How quickly one’s life can change, she thought.

  Sitting there, looking out at the herbaceous borders, with the sun enhancing their colours, of pinks and blues, she pictured her husband’s face.

  His hair had been in the habit of sticking up in the crown and no matter how he had it styled or slicked it down, up it would stand as if it had a mind of its own. How they had laughed about it. He was the kindest, most loving man anyone could hope to have, and she had intended to keep him for the rest of her life. But life was cruel. She had him for eight, short, years, then suddenly, he was gone and she was left a sad and embittered woman. />
  Her beloved George had been dead for two years now. He never knew she was pregnant with his son. Her hazel eyes filled with tears and she had to swallow hard so as not to choke on the lump, which threatened to fill her throat.

  She turned to see her mother, standing in the doorway, watching her with compassion.

  ‘Dear Victoria, why do you sit alone? It only makes you dwell on the past. And darling, it does no good, you know’.

  ‘Oh I know, but I really can't help it. I sometimes wish I had died with him. My life is so empty without him’.

  ‘Please don’t say such things. You still have the children. Don’t they mean anything to you?’

  ‘They would be all right with you. After all they hardly know me’.

  ‘Of course they do. They love you. You’re their mother, for goodness sake’.

  Louise had never understood her daughter. Even as a child she had proved unreasonable and only behaved well for her father. Edward loved Victoria much more than he did the boys, always spoiling her with little gifts, bought on his way home from business at the mill.

  As if reading her mother’s thoughts, Victoria asked, ‘is Daddy still here?’

  ‘No Dear, he left for the mill an hour ago and said to let you lie in your bed awhile. I thought you were still there’.

  ‘I wasn’t sleeping so I rang for Mable and she attended to me, she said, then added, with a sigh, ‘I really must have a maid of my own Mother. I don’t care for Mable at all and she has enough to do, dressing you’.

  ‘Victoria. How many times must I tell you? Mable does not dress me. You know I always insist on dressing myself unless it’s a special occasion. I only need her to lace and tie my bodice and, most of the time, she really has very little to do’.

  Her daughter, staring once more out of the window, said sarcastically, ‘your bodice Mother? It’s a corset. Why do you always call it a bodice? A young girl wears ‘a bodice’ not a matron’.