by Anna Jacobs
“Aye,” echoed John. “You think it over, lass, that’s all we ask.” He looked at her proudly. He had never thought to see his daughter dressed so fine and looking like a real lady.
Annie nodded her head. It was no use arguing with them. Best to let them think they had put an idea in her head and that she was thinking about it as they asked. Emily would never understand how she felt about Matt, though her father ought to, for he’d loved her mother in a way he clearly didn’t love Emily. “It’s kind of you to think about me,” she said carefully. “I won’t do anything hasty.”
“That’s right,” said Emily. “An’ don’t you do nothin’ wrong, neither, you an’ Matt. You don’t want to hafta get wed.”
Annie blushed. “I wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! You should know me an’ Matt better than that.”
“That’s as may be, but we’re all human, aren’t we? We’ve all got our needs.” The look she cast at John as she said that was distinctly unfriendly, and his face flushed.
It was a relief to get out of the stuffy little house and to run down the street towards Matt. Annie didn’t know how she stood her family sometimes. Every month she realised afresh how glad she was that she had got out of Salem Street. The visits home never failed to make her appreciate Park House and her comfortable position there.
She didn’t tell Matt what her stepmother had said; she told him instead how much she had missed him and how glad she was to be back. She also shyly produced a small framed aquatint of the sea which she had bought for him in Brighton, her first present to him. She hadn’t liked to give it to him with everyone watching. Then she listened to his news of the mill and let him tell her about the books he had been reading. At the edge of the park he kissed her hungrily, then put her resolutely from him.
“You’d tempt an angel, Annie Gibson!” he said huskily. “I missed you.”
She swayed towards him. “And I missed you.”
He kissed her again, then stood back. “Nay, lass. We mustn’t! We want better than this for ourselves.”
They remained there for a moment, motionless, only a foot apart and aching to touch one another, then Annie moved away, jerkily. “I’ll – I’ll go in, then.”
“Aye. Goodbye, love.” Matt stood and watched her until she disappeared beyond the high walls of Park House, then swung round, half-whistling under his breath. It was hard, sometimes, to control your feelings, especially with a lass like Annie. Who’d have thought that the scrawny little girl with the long red braids whom he’d met all those years ago at the water pump, would have turned into such a pretty woman? No, pretty wasn’t the word. She was – she was elegant. She had style. And she’d make him exactly the right sort of wife. He knew that he couldn’t have married a woman, however pretty, who wouldn’t be able to rise in the world with him.
It frightened Matt sometimes that he should have this burning urge to get on, to make money, to live somewhere nice, somewhere as unlike Salem Street as possible. He’d talked about it to Mr Hinchcliffe, but the minister had not thought it so wrong. If he got on in life through honest toil and he lived as a Christian should, where was the harm in that? No, Mr Hinchcliffe did not think Matt had anything to be ashamed of in his feelings. Matt had slept easier at nights since then, but he still had a niggling little worry at the back of his mind. He knew how strong his ambitions were, how ruthless he would be if he had to.
The next day Mrs Lewis stopped Annie as she was coming down the stairs. It had taken a week or two to convince Jeremy that she needed a personal maid. In the end he had given in, mainly because his wife was making life so unpleasant for them all. He had become a lot keener on the idea when he had heard that it was Annie Gibson whom she had in mind for the position. Annabelle took note of that. He showed far too much interest in the girl. He’d even encouraged the governess to lend books to Annie and Ellie to develop their minds. As though servants needed their minds developing! Strong bodies were of more use to them! Still, letting him help them was a way of letting him indulge his philanthropic urges without taking money away from his family, since the books had already been bought. Stupid man! What a fool he was!
Annabelle had always known a lot more than Jeremy realised about his comings and goings. She’d known about the girl in Brighton almost from the start, not only known, but been relieved. He had to have his little amours. All men were made like that. Even Frederick Hallam had hinted at his desire for her, though he was better than most men and had accepted no for an answer, without arguing. Perhaps it was because he was so much more sophisticated than Jeremy and could recognise a lady when he met one. Jeremy had been just – just absolutely disgusting at times.
Not that Jeremy seemed interested in her present maids in that way, thank goodness! She always kept a sharp eye open for that and had never seen any signs of it. She knew some wives turned a blind eye to it, but she wasn’t having such filthy business going on under her own roof!
She blinked and realised that Annie was still standing there waiting for orders. “Come into my room. Now, how would you like to become my personal maid, Annie?”
The girl’s eyes widened in surprise. “I never thought about it, Mrs Lewis. I thought Mabel would be …”
“Mabel! That clumsy creature!”
“I don’t mean to be impertinent, Mrs Lewis, but Mabel was hoping that you would – would ask her. She’s very eager to become a lady’s maid.”
“And you are not?” Surprise as well as annoyance edged Annabelle’s voice with vinegar.
“I just – I never thought about it. I’ve been learning to cook and to run a house. It – I thought it was just a temporary thing when you took me to Brighton, because Mabel had broken her arm. I never …” Her voice faltered to a halt.
“Whether you accept the position or not, I shall not offer it to Mabel. She is too clumsy and she lacks imagination. You are inexperienced, of course, but you have possibilities. You have a way with hair, you can sew neatly and you are not clumsy. Oh, no! I should never take Mabel.” She looked at Annie from the corner of her eye. “It would mean a rise in wages to ten pounds a year,” she said casually.
Annie took a deep breath. Ten pounds. She would be able to save more money.
Annabelle looked at her, half-amused, half-indignant that she should have to tempt the girl. But a week or two of Mabel’s ministrations since their return to Bilsden had made her appreciate Annie’s deft touch. “Well?” she asked, tapping her fingers impatiently on the arm of her chair.
“In that case, ma’am, I’ll be very happy to become your personal maid. And – and thank you.”
There was a stormy scene in the attic that night, no less stormy because the protagonists did not dare raise their voices, for fear of the mistress hearing them.
“You sneaky worm!” hissed Mabel. “Stealing my job as soon as my back was turned!”
“I didn’t!” protested Annie, who had been aware of Mabel’s glowering looks ever since she came back from her interview with the mistress and told Mrs Cosden the news. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Expect me to believe that! You done it on purpose! I always knew you was a sly one.” She gave Annie a push.
Annie’s temper flared up. “And you’re a stupid one!” she said scornfully. “You’ll never make a lady’s maid in a thousand years! You’re too stupid and clumsy!”
Mrs Cosden erupted out of her room, massive symbol of authority in a voluminous pink flannel dressing-gown. “Do you two want the mistress to hear?” she demanded in a fierce whisper. She stretched out a ham-like fist and pushed Mabel away from Annie. “Get off to your beds, the pair of you! And as for you, Mabel Clegg, you’re wasting your time and your spite! If Mrs Lewis wants Annie, then there’s nothing you can do about it! I’m not so happy to lose Annie myself. I’ve been training her for years and she’s just getting into a real help in the decorating and serving. But I know better than to make a fuss about something that can’t be mended.”
Ellie pulled Annie back toward
s their room, but Mabel hadn’t finished. “I’ll pay you back one day, Annie Gibson!” she said viciously, arms akimbo. “I’ll not forget an’ I’ll pay you back good and proper. You see if I don’t!”
The next few months were to be a golden period in Annie’s life. Never again, however happy she felt, would she be so carefree and so sure of life and the future which lay in store for her. She found that she really enjoyed being Mrs Lewis’s personal maid, in spite of her mistress’s uncertain temper. It was a challenge to try to prevent that temper being worked off on herself, which she could usually do, if she kept all her wits about her.
Inevitably, in the closeness of the association, both women came to know each other better. If you took a genuine, creative interest in her appearance, Mrs Lewis could thaw out amazingly. With practice, Annie became expert not only at dressing her mistress’s silky blond hair, but also at creating new styles like the ones in the ladies’ magazines. Annabelle would happily sit for hours almost purring with pleasure while her maid experimented. And Annie found it a delight to care for such beautiful clothes. Her sewing improved even further, for when she bothered, Annabelle was an accomplished needlewoman, and was able to pass on a few skills. At present, she considered it well worth her while to train her new maid properly; indeed, she was enjoying doing so.
In return for the devoted service and what Annie mentally referred to as ‘the buttering-up’, Annabelle went through her wardrobes and bestowed upon her maid several more dresses, petticoats, shifts, pairs of darned stockings and shoes. She even took an interest in how these were altered and allowed Annie an occasional hour off in the afternoon for her own sewing. Anything to do with clothes fascinated her, whoever they were for.
The rest of the household marvelled at Mrs Lewis’s improved humour and said Annie was a witch. Mabel glowered, muttered beneath her breath and played one or two nasty tricks upon her rival until Mrs Cosden told her to stop that or she’d inform the mistress. After that, Mabel just bided her time. She would get even with that sneaky bitch one day.
The advantages of serving Mrs Lewis were not restricted to cast-off clothes and an easier life at Park House. Annie found herself making regular trips into Manchester as her mistress’s companion on shopping expeditions. She came to know the shops and warehouses there quite well, especially those dealing in female apparel. There were not the luxurious dress salons there had been in London, but one or two of the dressmakers could meet Annabelle’s exacting requirements in dress – though Annie was often called upon to make minor adjustments, even to these. There were also the warehouses, where one could, if one was careful, purchase accessories and lengths of material at ridiculously low prices.
Annabelle had nothing but scorn for Miss Pinkley, Bilsden’s only ladies’ dressmaker. She had used Miss Pinkley to make clothes for Marianne, faute de mieux, but bemoaned the lack of a real dressmaker in the town. Now she found that, with some help from a sewing woman for the straight seams and basic work, she and Annie between them could do a reasonable job of making everyday garments for Annabelle at a fraction of the price one would pay in a London dress salon, and that Annie had an eye for a good fit that was quite amazing. Annie joked to Ellie that her title should now be lady’s maid and sewing-woman. But who cared? Life had suddenly become very interesting indeed.
Throughout those months, Mabel kept a watchful eye on her enemy. She still considered that Annie had stolen her job from her, and she refused to admit Annie’s undoubtedly superior talents as a lady’s maid. If she had to wait for twenty years, Mabel would get even with that sly sneak. Annie Gibson would be sorry for what she’d done!
The rest of the year flew by. It seemed incredible to Annie that it could be Christmas already. Mrs Lewis kept Park House in a whirl of activity, with parties, soirées and festive preparations. The servants grumbled, but not too loudly. Never had their mistress been so easy to work for. Jeremy, too, noticed how having a personal maid had sweetened Annabelle’s temper and reminded himself to give Annie a bonus at Christmas. She had more than earned it.
January the tenth was cold and it had snowed heavily. Annie, suffering from a severe head cold, felt it to have been a poor start to the year she turned eighteen. She struggled to get on with her normal duties, but received several sharp reprimands from Mrs Lewis, who was feeling let-down and bored after the festivities. Annabelle was not sympathetic to other people’s troubles and she particularly disliked servants being ill. There was too much to be done and would Annie please stop sniffling!
Annie felt her eyes sting with tears and blinked them hastily away. It wasn’t fair! Her head was throbbing and she kept having to turn away to sneeze. How could she help sniffling?
On her first Sunday off in the New Year, she went home, because there was nothing else she could do in this weather. She still felt less than her normal self and, to make matters worse, Matt was away. Mr Hallam had sent him over to Liverpool for a few weeks to learn about the maintenance and proper use of some new machinery that had been ordered. Annie was not looking forward to a day with her family.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Emily ungraciously as she entered Number Three. “I’d forgotten it was your Sunday off. Surprised y’even bothered to come, with Matt away!”
Annie leaned over to cuddle her little half-sister, Rebecca, who had looked just like a skinned rabbit when she was born, but who was now a pretty child. “How are you all, then?” she asked, as cheerfully as she could.
“ ’Ow d’yer think?” replied Emily. “You try losin’ a baby an’ see ’ow well you feel!” She had just had a still-born baby and was looking tired and unhappy.
“I’m goin’ into t’mill,” announced Lizzie, self-importantly. “Our dad’s got me set on. I’m startin’ on Monday.” She seemed quite pleased at the prospect.
Annie looked at her father in surprise. He had always said that he’d keep his girls out of the mill at all costs.
“There wasn’t anythin’ else,” he said apologetically. “There’s seven of us to feed an’ our Tom’s not bringin’ in so much just now.” He couldn’t meet his eldest daughter’s eyes.
“Oh, Dad,” she said softly. “Mam would’ve hated that!”
“Your mam’s long dead!” Emily’s voice seemed even shriller than usual. “Time to complain when you c’n find your sister summat better! I didn’t see you helpin’ our Lizzie to find a place in service, like you did for Ellie Peters, Miss High an’ Mighty! An’ the reason we’re short is because that brother of yours don’t hand all his wages over, like he should. That’s what! Ungrateful, you are, the pair of you! Give nothin’ to y’family, you two don’t!”
“I didn’t know of any places going.” Annie felt uncomfortable, but knew that Lizzie could never have got taken on as a maid. Her very appearance militated against her. Employers wanted pleasant, cheerful faces around them. Lizzie was an ugly, unappealing child with a surly nature, and it showed in her face.
“Right, then! Don’t complain when someone does find her a job. It might not suit you, but it’ll bring in half a crown a week an’ more later, an’ that suits us!”
“But will Lizzie be able to manage it?” asked Annie. “She’s not quick with her hands, never was.” She ignored Lizzie’s scowl. “You have to be quick in the mill, or you can get injured. Ellie told me about it.”
“She’ll learn,” replied Emily sourly. She never looked happy nowadays. “A person does what they have to. The Lord doesn’t give you a burden too heavy to bear.”
Rebecca fell over and started to wail and Emily turned to pick her up. Annie went over to the fire and began to stir the stew. It looked greasy and unappetising. Emily was as bad a cook as she was a housekeeper. The place smelled very sour nowadays and all the extra bits and pieces of furniture, like the brass fender, had long disappeared into the pawn shop.
The day dragged on. The whole family went to chapel, even little Rebecca, though the child shivered all the time in her inadequate clothes.
“She a
in’t got no fine clothes like her big sister!” snapped Emily, seeing Annie’s look.
“I’ll see if I can make her something.” But she had made other things for her brothers and sisters, and they had unaccountably vanished.
Later, Emily shrilled, “We ain’t got no fancy food, so you can like it or lump it!” as Annie picked at the gristly meat in the watery stew.
John sighed, but didn’t intervene. Emily hadn’t been well since she lost the baby.
Shut up in the tiny house, which had once been her home, Annie tried not to let the barbed remarks provoke her into answering back, for her father’s sake. He was looking worn and unhappy, and she felt sorry for him. When she put sixpence on the table in front of Emily and said it was a present for the children, he gave her a little nod and a half-ashamed smile. The children would never see the money, of course, but Emily picked it up quickly and was thereafter a little less sharp with her elder stepdaughter.
At least they were not cold here, thought Annie, trying to look on the bright side. The tiny room was full of people and that generated warmth. The two little boys rolled around the floor, playing like puppy dogs on the dirty flagstones. Why had they not been swept? But she did not dare offer to do it. Once, Emily would have rebuked the children for playing on the Lord’s day, but now she only smacked them for getting in her way. May and Lizzie sat in a corner on some old sacks, whispering and giggling together. They completely ignored everyone else. Why had her father not made them some more stools? He was handy with bits of wood. He used to make all sorts of things when her mam was alive. It was awful seeing how they lived.
At two o’clock Annie could stand it no longer. “I think I’ll pop along to see Mr and Mrs Peters,” she said.
“Not good enough for you, aren’t we?” asked Emily. “You’d think a person’d be glad to spend a day with their family once in a while.”