Luckily, the previous housekeeper’s family had come and collected her belongings, leaving the suite empty except for a bed, a chiffonier, a wardrobe, and a settee.
When she noticed that James was still watching the movers, Gladys approached him and asked, “Sir, I wonder if I may have the rest of the day to clean my rooms and settle in before I begin my work?”
“Most assuredly, perhaps you would like another day as well?” he replied.
At first, she thought his tone hinted of sarcasm, but she could only read kindness on his face. “Thank you, sir, that is very generous, but I shall be ready to start in the morning. Now I wonder if I could have a bucket of hot water, a scrub brush, and some soap.”
“Of course, just go to the kitchen and the cook will supply you with whatever you require; I shall see that one of the housemaids assists you, if you would like.”
“Yes, it just may do her good to see what I shall be expecting in the way of cleanliness when I am in charge. Oh, dear, I hope that didn’t sound too overbearing. I do not intend to be too strict.”
“I think you may be just what we need around here. I should have been more stringent with my rules as of late, but poor Mrs Cosgrave, my previous housekeeper, was very elderly and hadn’t the strength or the eyesight to find fault with the help. I shall send one of the girls up to help you right away. And perhaps you will let me know when you are free.”
Gladys thanked him again, then went out to say goodbye to Bob. He and the footman had uncrated the sewing machine, and as they carried it up to Gladys’s apartment they were watched by most of the household staff, all curious to know what the strange looking contraption could be. Bob laughed and said, “They didn’t know what to make o’ it, so I thought I’d keep them guessing until you told them. But you oughta seen their faces when I told them you were the only lady in all of England what has one.”
“I’m sure there are many more women that have one by now, Bob. I only wish dear Millie had one in her dressmaking shop when she was alive. You know she took me under her wing when I first came to Dover. She taught me how to sew and so much more. I would have tried to open a dressmaker’s shop myself instead of coming here to work, if I had a place of my own.”
“I told them ladies that you could make any sort o’ fancy gowns there was on that machine, Gladdy.”
Gladys laughed and teased him for exaggerating. She knew how he liked to make the most out of a story, but then, he did profess to have been held by his heels, not once but twice, in order to kiss the Blarney Stone when he was a young lad in Ireland. She had always enjoyed his Irish humour. She would have looked forward to visiting him, but she didn’t intend to return to Dover after she fulfilled her promise to Dolly to visit Andrew’s grave.
After he left, she and Dolly went to find the stableman to make sure he was taking good care of Tig. She needn’t have worried—the man had the horse all settled into a clean stall and had put the shay away with Mr Hornsby’s buggies.
The coachman was the biggest man Gladys had ever seen. He had a huge moustache and deep creases in his cheeks, but none on his forehead—a good indication that he laughed more than he frowned. He reminded Gladys of her father before the liquor claimed him. After she thanked him, she asked him his name and had to suppress a giggle when he said it was “Horseman,” since it so aptly suited his profession and his size.
“But I goes by Ruby, missus; hit’s short for Ruben, you see,” he added. Gladys had learned from Annie that a housekeeper was always referred to as missus by the other servants, except for the butler, even if she happened to be a spinster. The butler, whose position in the household was equal to hers, would address her as “Mrs Pickwick,” and she should address him in the same formal way. Gladys made an instant friend when she told Ruby that she looked forward to talking to him again when she had more time.
Even Dolly was put to work cleaning, which, fortunately, kept her too busy to be homesick. The drapes and the rugs were taken outside and beaten, the floor scrubbed, and the wallpaper, bed, and other furniture wiped down with a damp cloth. The room was finally aired and ready to move into at nine that evening. They had only stopped cleaning for a half hour to have dinner. The chambermaid who James sent to help was a large, fair-haired, bonny girl of nineteen named Rita, who, after seeing how meticulous the new missus was, couldn’t wait to rush off and warn the rest of the staff. But after Gladys thanked her and told her that she would only be expected to work half the following day, she left with a smile on her face and delivered a far more favourable account.
Although their new apartment wasn’t as luxurious as the one that had awaited them at Oaken Arms, it was far more elaborate than their former dwelling. With their own bits and pieces about the room, it felt much more familiar.
After a cup of hot chocolate thoughtfully sent up by the cook, Dolly crawled into bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Gladys would have done the same, but she still had to pay her employer a visit.
She found Jenkins, the butler, and asked him where she could find the master. Jenkins, thinking Gladys far too comely to be a proper housekeeper, told her rather sharply that she would find him in the library. The door of the library was open, but she knocked to let James know she was there.
“Gladys? Please come inside.”
Chapter Four
As she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was the rich and pleasant smell of leather, a favourite scent of hers since she was a child in Old Nichol, spending time with Mr O’s old horse Knickers. There weren’t many pleasant odours in the slums. In fact, the smell of old Knickers’ harness was the only one Gladys could remember.
Old Knickers belonged to Mr O’Brian or, as Gladys called him, Mr O. The O’Brians had a large family and they lived above their barn where the warmth of the animals—one horse, one sow, varying numbers of piglets, one boar, and a dog—all helped add heat in the winter. Mr O used old Knickers to pull a wagon loaded with horse and pig manure to gardens on the outskirts of Old Nichol. The horse had been in his twilight years, and his back had developed such a sway that two little O’Brians and Gladys could all fit nicely and Knickers never objected.
Gladys took a deep breath, smiled, and looked around. Three of the walls in the library, except for one good-sized window, were completely lined with books, most bound in leather. A ladder, which was attached to a track that hung from the high ceiling and ran around the walls, allowed access to the books on even the highest shelves. Facing the fourth wall, which contained a huge fireplace, there were three brown leather, high-backed chairs that reminded Gladys of the one in Andrew’s office.
A writing desk and an oak armchair with a leather-padded seat and back were to one side of the fireplace, and a huge globe of the world was on the other. There were several paintings on the wall, but the one over the fireplace was so unusual it captured Gladys’s attention. For a moment, she forgot where she was.
“It is interesting, isn’t it?” James said.
Gladys hadn’t seen him sitting in one of the chairs facing the fireplace, but now she turned to him and answered, “It is lovely—different from anything I have ever seen.”
“A good friend of mine purchased it for me when he was visiting Paris last year. The artist was a Japanese man named Katsushika Hokusai, although, like most Japanese artists, he went by many other names—upwards of thirty, I believe. The title of this painting is ‘Furoshiki-rekisi.’”
“It has such an interesting mixture of scenery: a lake, a waterfall, some exotic looking trees and mountains, and some oddly dressed men. It all looks a bit . . .”
“Mystical?”
“Yes, that’s it! Is that what Japan really looks like?”
James, impressed with the woman’s curiosity over his latest painting, replied, “I have never been there, but I have heard that Mr Hokusai enjoyed painting images of the daily lives of his countrymen, so I
imagine it is.”
“I enjoyed the Japanese exhibits last year when we went to London, and I would love to visit the country someday.”
“Yes, so would I,” he answered, nodding his head.
A little worried that her ignorance might be apparent if she pursued the subject, Gladys said, “You have a wonderful library, Mr Hornsby. Dolly’s grandfather gave her all of Tom’s books, and she loves reading. I would like to show her your library sometime, if I may.”
“Yes, but I must tell you that I do not allow children in here on their own.”
“I understand perfectly, sir.”
For the first time since she entered the room, James realized that she had remained standing and said, “Forgive me for being so thoughtless. You must be worn out after all that work. Do sit down, Mrs Pickwick. Keith talked about you so much that in a way I almost feel as though I have known you for a long time.”
“But I thought that Keith lived in Wales?”
“Yes, he did. You see, my father passed away when I was fifteen, and my mother remarried a Welshman by the name of Corkish. Keith was born a year later. After a few years, my step-father decided to move back to Wales, and because I was being trained to take over my father’s business, I remained in Dover. I was very fond of Keith. We had some jolly good times whenever we had a chance to be together.”
“Keith was very fond of you too. The three of us were planning on visiting you, but then Tom had his accident. He was riding one evening at dusk and didn’t see a tree that had fallen across the road. Tom’s horse had to be put down, and Tom was badly injured. His face was quite disfigured, and he refused to leave the house until not long before he and Keith left for India, so we weren’t able to come to see you.”
“Keith told me a little of what happened . . . But now, here we are. I am certain he would be pleased to know that we have met at last.”
“And I am very pleased to finally meet you, even under these circumstances.”
“Good, good! Now, I suppose we should talk about your job. As you already know, my wife passed away a few years ago, and our son, Horace, lives abroad, so being alone here, I’ve not felt the need to employ many servants. However, if at any time you feel you need more help, please do not hesitate to let me know.”
Gladys nodded and he continued, “I pray you will not find what I am about to say offensive, but I must admit that my curiosity has taken precedence over good manners. You see, I had known Thomas and his father, Andrew, for many years. Andrew and I were both involved in the shipping business—mine being in the building of the vessels. Now, I would venture to guess that although you may have employed servants before, you have never had to be one. Am I correct?”
“Not entirely, sir. You see, my father was lost at sea when I was a child, and my mother, who was a governess, was left to bring me up the best she could. When she died, I was forced to find employment in order to live. Having a certain musical talent, I found a job as a barmaid and entertainer. It was there I met Tom and Keith. So you might say I was a servant. However, I can assure you that I am familiar with the duties of a housekeeper and that you won’t be disappointed in my work.”
“I am certain I shan’t be. Now that you mention it, I do recall Keith saying you had a beautiful voice. Who was your teacher?”
Gladys hesitated for a moment, then she decided to tell the truth—up to a point. “My mother, but she could sing far better than I. She often sang solos in church and at many other social events.”
“Do you resemble your mother too?”
“No, I look more like my father. Mother’s hair was red and she was a very petite woman.” What Gladys was saying wasn’t all prefabricated; her mother did have an enviable voice, red hair, and small stature. However, her solos were performed in the pubs and streets of the slums, not in a church.
As she spoke, Gladys could picture her mother’s red hair. She recalled how it sometimes looked like it was on fire. Curls would fly about her head like tentacles of flames as she twirled round and round dancing and singing while lifting her skirt up almost to her knees. James interrupted her thoughts.
“Perhaps you would sing for me sometime? I am not an accomplished pianist, but I do play a little.”
“You have a piano?”
“Actually, I have two: one in the servants’ hall and one in the parlour. Do you play?”
“Yes, I do!”
“Wonderful! I shall look forward to hearing you play and sing.” James took a few seconds thinking how he should phrase his next question without embarrassing her. “Please do not answer if you do not want to, Mrs Pickwick, but, knowing how well off Andrew was, I cannot help but wonder why you, his daughter-in-law, would be forced to seek employment.”
“I don’t know if you knew Andrew very well.”
“No, but he and my father were good friends.”
“Well, when Tom’s mother passed away, Andrew was so grief-stricken and vulnerable that a scheming woman named Rose had no trouble convincing him that he needed a wife and a mother for Tom, who was only about ten at the time.”
“Yes, I do remember my father saying that Andrew had married again and that the marriage didn’t last.” James remarked.
“That’s right. She refused to stay on his estate in the country, so he moved her into a house in town. He and Tom stayed on the farm. She had also talked him into adopting her two children with the excuse that they would be good company for Tom, but they were both very naughty and Tom was happy when they moved out. The boy’s name is Peter and the girl’s name is Mildred.
“Andrew made sure they had a good allowance, but he had nothing to do with them from that time on. When Tom grew up and joined the army, his father really missed him so he decided to accept a government position in Dover and he moved into a flat near his office on the quay. He took the job intending to help the poor people in Ireland who were starving.”
Gladys was suddenly afraid she was talking too much and said, “Forgive me, Mr Hornsby, I didn’t mean to go on so, but it is rather hard to explain unless you know the whole story.”
“There’s no need to apologize, I understand. Please continue.”
“Well, as you know, Tom was killed before he had a chance to come home and see his new little girl, Dolly, so Andrew was there for us both when we needed him the most. He absolutely adored Dolly, and she loved him just as much. He was determined to build us a grand home on an estate he purchased. I even helped design the mansion and picked out all the furnishings. We named the estate Oaken Arms.
“It was ready to move into when Andrew decided to make a quick trip to Ireland to bring back some relatives of Bob’s—the man who brought my belongings here. Dolly and I were getting ready to move. We were packing when Peter came to the door and told me that Andrew had been murdered. Not only was I shocked to hear of his demise, but later Andrew’s lawyer told me that he had him draw up a new will leaving Oaken Arms to Dolly and me, but he neglected to sign it before leaving for Ireland.
“As his only son, Peter inherited his entire estate and he ordered us out of the house we were living in. That is why I was forced to seek employment.”
“You mean to say that this fellow, Peter, didn’t even see to it that you and your daughter had an allowance decent enough to maintain the lifestyle you were accustomed to?”
“No. He gave us two weeks to vacate the home we were in. If not for Lady Madeline’s assistance, we would now be homeless.”
“Well, I am happy that she recommended you. Now, my dear, you have had a very busy day and I think a glass of sherry is in order.” James poured two glasses as he talked, and when he offered one to Gladys, she finally relaxed and smiled.
They spent a pleasant half hour talking about the Great Exhibition, since they had both had the pleasure of attending it.
Gladys told him about receiving the sewing machine from Andrew af
ter he had been murdered. James said he would appreciate a demonstration whenever she had the time.
Gladys was tired but found the big chair so comfortable, the warmth of the fire and the sherry so relaxing, that she was reluctant to leave. It had been a long and tiring day for her, but, as she sat talking to this soft-spoken man, she found herself wishing they were just good friends spending a nice evening together, not master and servant. However, she was determined to prove her worth, and her duties required an early rising. She refused a second drink, excused herself, and went up to bed.
After she left, James pondered over the unexpected feeling of friendship he felt toward her. He seldom felt at ease in the company of women and had married his wife, Ruth, not out of love but convenience.
Ruth, the only child of a wealthy merchant, had inherited Four Oaks and the rest of her father’s fortune when he was killed. By an odd coincidence, the poor man, like Andrew Pickwick, had suffered an untimely end when he was stabbed to death and robbed while on a business trip.
He and James’s father had been good friends as well as business associates. As a young boy, James had often visited Four Oaks with his parents. He and Ruth had one peculiarity in common. They both preferred reading to socializing and, therefore, got along tolerably well. Perhaps Ruth’s lack of comely features and feminine contours had a lot to do with her mannerisms, but James was not unattractive in the least so his idiosyncrasies were thought to be caused by shyness.
Because of an extreme underbite, Ruth’s lip-line slanted downward in the corners, giving her a dour countenance. This, and her shyness, did little to encourage fondness from family, friends, and relatives. Even her parents found her unresponsive to their show of affection. As she grew older, any efforts they made to engage her in conversation only received one word responses. Ruth enjoyed the company of a book more than people.
Although James, as a youngster, had tolerated his parents’ fond embraces, he also preferred reading to socializing.
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