‘Have you no recommendation from previous employers?’
‘No, I worked for the same lady since I left school,’ lied Kit.
Mrs Grunter’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the open face that smiled eagerly back at her, before eventually coming to a decision. ‘Very well, Kit, I will take you on trust. Presumably the letter will have arrived by tomorrow, you can fetch it with you when you start. Don’t bother coming until later in the morning, you’ll only get in the way. I’ll speak to the master about your appointment when he arrives from his London residence.’
‘Oh, thank you, ma’am! Would that be as parlourmaid I’m hired? Only I don’t want to rob anyone of their rightful position. Lily was saying it’s her turn to—’
‘Lily does not make the appointments. Besides which, she is kitchen material. A fine-looking girl like you would be wasted downstairs.’ Mrs Grunter knew her employer’s taste in parlourmaids. ‘Very different to your sister, aren’t you? Not much to look at, Amelia. If it weren’t for her efficiency she’d never have made it upstairs.’
Kit enjoyed an inward laugh and wished she could throw this at Amelia when next she chose to lob insults. She never would, of course. Kit was rarely vindictive.
‘The mistress thinks very highly of her, I hope you’ll live up to her standards. We’ll start you on sixteen pounds a year and see how you perform, then maybe we’ll consider giving you the same wage as your sister. Your caps will be provided. I assume your work attire is as presentable as the dress you are wearing?’ Kit said she was sure it was and listed the items in her possession, most thankful that she had the regulation black dress befitting her upper house duties. Mrs Grunter seemed satisfied. ‘In addition to your wage you will receive eightpence per day in lieu of beer and one half-day off per week, or perhaps an extra half-day at my discretion. You will be expected to attend prayers each morning. Apart from the necessary comings and goings demanded by your employment, the garden is out of bounds to servants – and although I am lenient in matters of the heart whilst a servant is away from the Hall, I will not permit followers to enter the grounds, nor will I countenance any hanky-panky between members of staff. That rule must be strictly observed. Well, Kit, I expect to see you here at mid-morning tomorrow. Good day.’ A cool smile and Kit found herself outside the door.
Trying to remember the route by which she had come along the drab corridor, Kit turned to her right and hoped it led back to the kitchen. She was issuing mental congratulations when someone grabbed her and she blurted a surprisingly girlish shriek for one of such proportions.
But it was only her sister. ‘What did you say you were a parlourmaid for?’ hissed Amelia, snatching furtive looks over her shoulder.
‘’Cause I’m sick of being a dogsbody,’ came the retort.
‘Making me look a fool—’
‘You might be a fool, I’m not.’ Kit looked smug. ‘I start tomorrow.’
Amelia groaned. ‘You don’t know the first thing about the job!’
‘Well, it can’t be that hard if you’re doing it. You can teach me.’
‘Huh! Insult to injury.’ The dumpy girl tutted and steered her companion to the right, past the maids’ sitting room. ‘Whose idea was it to send you here?’
Kit chose not to blame her niece. ‘Our Monty’s. I’ll tell him you put in a good word for me, he’ll be right glad.’ She continued to move along the corridor at a jaunty walk.
‘If you make a muck of this I’ll kill you! God, I wish it wa’ September.’ This was when Amelia would leave to be married.
‘I don’t know why you’re getting so het up. I’m really looking forward to working here. I thought you were having me on when you said how big it were.’
‘We’re not all natural liars. What really happened at Mrs Larder’s? Suppose you got the sack again, didn’t you?’
‘Aye, mean old ewe wouldn’t gimme a reference neither.’
‘Ssh!’ Amelia came to a halt, grabbed the taller girl’s arm and pushed her towards a nearby exit that would save her from going through the kitchen. ‘If Mrs Grunter hears you you’ll cop it, and me too for recommending you.’ She opened the door. ‘How on earth did you manage to get this job with no reference?’
‘Told her I’d bring it with me when I come tomorrow.’ Kit counted to five before taking a step over the threshold, her smile as bright as the sunshine. ‘Well, I’d better be on me way – have to practise Mrs Larder’s handwriting for tomorrow.’
* * *
On reflection, Kit, never an accomplished scribe, abandoned any attempt at forgery and turned up at Cragthorpe Hall with her box the next morning with the excuse that the post had not arrived before she had set off, and adding to Mrs Grunter, ‘But I’ll go home on my afternoon off if you like, it must have arrived by then.’
The housekeeper said she would take Kit on trial. ‘Your sister is most trustworthy, I am sure you are similarly disposed. As for your afternoon off, I shall expect a good month’s work out of you first, my girl.’
‘Naturally, ma’am,’ came the dignified response.
Mrs Grunter, head back, was peering rather disapprovingly at the new maid’s hat that was bedecked with all manner of decoration. Unwilling to crush her latest creation into her box, Kit had transported the heather-laden bonnet on her head, even in the knowledge that it was bound to invoke adverse reaction. Folk did not want their inferiors dressed more finely than themselves. ‘And I trust that we will not witness you in that attire for church?’ She received the promise that it would be reserved for more fitting occasions.
‘I can’t for the life of me imagine what that would be fitted to,’ murmured Mrs Grunter, rubbing the back of her neck which ached from straining to look up at her much taller companion. Summoning Amelia, whose pale face reddened at the sight of Kit’s ostentatious headgear, she handed the newcomer over to her care. ‘Five minutes to show your sister to her room and then back to work.’
Amelia helped Kit to lug her heavy box along the corridor, asking what assistance she had had in getting here. Kit said it was lucky that she had been given a lift on a vegetable cart or her knuckles would be trailing on the floor by now. It had been bad enough dragging the box from the road to the house. Amelia grumbled that it felt as if she had the horse and cart still in it but, despite all the puffing exertion, managed to point out various landmarks along the way – pastryroom, Cook’s room, pantry, servants’ hall – until they reached a narrow flight of stairs.
‘This is our staircase. That one at the other end of the passage is the men’s. They’ll try to get you up it if they can. One particular footman, Algy they call him, he tries his luck with all the new maids – but you should be safe enough.’ Oblivious to her own implied insult, she huffed under the weight of the box and sighed thankfully as they reached a landing, which, like the staircase, was composed of bare boards. ‘Here we are, this is thine.’
Kit was forced to duck her bonneted head to avoid collision with the lintel, but was otherwise quite pleased with the small room and its bed, washstand and one chest of drawers, and pleasantly surprised that she would not have to share. Amelia explained that their employer did not wish to encourage close relationships of any kind lest it be detrimental to the servants’ standard of work.
Whilst Kit took off her bonnet and shawl, Amelia opened the box with the intention of helping her unpack but shrank at the sight of a pair of white wings. ‘What the … ?’
‘It’s for me new hat.’ Kit explained how she had Kelly’s dog to thank for her prize, stroking the white feathers before storing them carefully in a top drawer. Next from the box she took the plain straw hat that awaited the decoration, having to punch it into shape before laying it on the top of the chest. After Amelia had helped Kit to unpack the rest of the contents – a bible, one spare chemise, a change of drawers, another hat, one flannel petticoat, two nightdresses, two print dresses, one stuff dress, four coarse aprons, four white aprons, a spare pair of black stockings, another hat, a
pair of slippers and various lacy fripperies that should never be part of a maid’s inventory – she exclaimed that it was like Aladdin’s cave, ordered Kit to put one of her white aprons over the formal black dress and provided her with a lawn cap that had lain in one of the drawers.
At this juncture a smiling face of another parlourmaid appeared in the doorway. ‘Hello! Is this your sister?’
Obviously embarrassed, Amelia was forced to introduce the two girls. ‘Oh, er, Kit, this is my best friend, Ivy.’
A pleasant girl with a broad smile and a rather strong-willed gleam to her brown eye, Ivy gave Kit’s hand a firm shake then cocked her head and asked, ‘Has she shown you her wedding dress material? It’s lovely!’
Kit looked perplexed, feeling rather hurt that this stranger knew more about her sister’s wedding than she did.
‘We only bought it the other day,’ stuttered Amelia. ‘On t’market. Mrs Grunter gave us an hour off to go buy it – come on, I’ll give you a quick look.’
The three hurried to Amelia’s room which was virtually the same as Kit’s, and Ivy pulled a box from under the bed, displaying the heavy, stamped velvet which had already been cut out though not yet stitched together. ‘Have a geg at that then!’ She held it to her own bosom. ‘It cost seven pounds!’
‘That’s almost half a year’s wages!’ exclaimed Kit. ‘It is to me anyway.’ She asked Amelia how on earth she could afford it. All their other sisters had paid for their own weddings; they couldn’t expect Monty to provide.
Amelia explained that her fiancé’s parents were contributing to the wedding as they had lots of relatives, plus the fact that Albert was their only child and they wanted to give him a good send-off. Albert worked as a footman in another grand household. The pair had met when assisting their respective employers at a charitable party for the inmates of the workhouse at Christmas. Upon his wedding he would leave domestic service and take up something more suited to a married man.
Kit nodded. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky! Have you got a sweetheart, Ivy?’
A grinning Amelia answered for her friend, who had turned coy. ‘She’s just met someone!’ The two tittered as if over some big secret.
Feeling excluded, Kit continued to admire the beautiful russet material, saying it would suit Amelia admirably.
‘Well, I thought as it was an autumn wedding I’d get something more practical – not that I could afford silk anyway,’ laughed Amelia. ‘But it can double as my going-away dress, and I’ll get plenty of wear out of it afterwards.’
Kit eyed the collection of buttons, hoops and bones that were also in the box, lying like a dismantled skeleton. ‘You’re going to need help to get it finished in time.’
‘I’m helping her,’ jumped in Ivy.
Amelia saw Kit’s face drop. ‘But you can help too if you like. She’s a really neat sewer, is our Kit,’ she told her friend, before turning back to her sister. ‘Best go and change your boots. I’ll just put this away and then I’ll meet you back in your room.’ She began to fold up the material as Kit left.
Once there were just the two of them, Amelia lowered her voice.
‘See what I mean? She’s like a house-end! How could I ask her to be a bridesmaid?’ She had wanted so much to have her best friend as attendant but in doing so had felt that she would have to ask Kit too, as they were closer in age than her other sisters, and to leave her out in favour of a stranger might cause offence. Similarly averse to having any of her nieces without the others, and unable to afford dresses for everyone, she had decided not to have anyone at all. ‘You know I’d love to have you if I could, but to have Kit too would ruin things.’
‘Oh, I know that!’ Ivy was forgiving, and sympathized with Amelia for being encumbered by such a relation.
‘It’s going to look like a pinchfist wedding with no bridesmaids though.’ Amelia looked sad as she replaced the box under the bed. ‘But we just can’t afford it. Anyway, I’d better go and sherrick our Kit or she’ll be sitting doing nowt. Do you know, she’s gone and told Mrs Grunter that she’s used to being a parlourmaid – when she’s only ever been a skivvy! The cat.’
Leaving Ivy, Amelia returned to Kit’s room and poked her head in. ‘Right, are you ready? We’ve got a few things to do before we lay the table for luncheon. You wouldn’t normally get to do it but the footmen are still in London – or rather they’ll be on the train back up here by now I should think. Master and mistress are due back any time.’
Kit was bending over, changing from her outdoor boots into black, low-heeled slippers. Having paid little attention to her sister’s gossip in the past, she now had to ask her employer’s name.
‘I’ve told you! Honestly, you never listen.’ Amelia gave the information whilst chivvying her sister downstairs and along a further substantial length of dingy corridor. ‘The master is Mr Geoffrey Dolphin, the mistress is Mrs Zenobia Dolphin, their eldest son is Master Eustace – everybody calls him Tish because when he was small he pronounced his name Eushtish.’ Amelia checked to see they were unobserved before divulging, ‘He’s a simpleton. He’s nineteen but not in the head, if you know what I mean. He’s harmless but he’s not much to look at. Then there’s Miss Agnes, who’s seventeen, Master Wyndham who’s fifteen – he’s at Rugby, that’s a posh school down south, he’ll be coming up for the holidays too – Miss Frances is twelve and Master Everard, eleven.’
‘What’re they like?’
‘The mistress is kind, a bit highly strung, but I wouldn’t trouble yourself, you’ll hardly have any dealings with them. They don’t like the servants to be visible, so if you meet them in the corridor make yourself scarce.’
They came to a green baize door studded with brass nails. Upon reaching the other side Kit gasped, for they were now in the main house and instead of bare linoleum there were patterned runners underfoot, gilt-framed oil paintings on the walls, mahogany side-tables and Chinese vases, niches with precious porcelain and all manner of objets d’art. There were also huge mirrors that captured Kit’s reflection from every angle. She just could not avoid staring back.
Nagging her sister to stop dawdling, Amelia directed her to the dining room, which was in the east wing overlooking the front of the house. Here, the door lintel and jambs were elaborately carved with mythical characters, and the doors themselves great slabs of panelled oak. The ceiling was like the icing on a wedding cake. Dizzy with delight, Kit wandered after her sister.
Upon entry Amelia gasped at the sight of a man’s face at the vast window. ‘Aw, haven’t they finished yet? They were supposed to have that glass put in before the master got back – been at it for months. Tut! We’ll have them ogling us while we’re laying the table.’ Asked what they were doing, Amelia explained, ‘The master wants every plate-glass window in the building to be replaced by leaded lights.’
Kit offered a frowning opinion. ‘What’s he want that rubbish for? They look really old-fashioned.’
‘I think that’s the idea – I know it’s barmy! The house was only built about twenty years ago. All those tiny panes’ll be a demon to clean. Anyway, stop making cow’s eyes at that fella and grab the end of this cloth!’
Amelia bustled around from one side of the twenty-foot table to the other, giving orders which Kit followed reverently, smoothing the pristine linen, following her sister’s example, laying numerous pieces of silver cutlery and a cruet at each place, juggling with crystal goblets. Last to be put in place was a huge vase of flowers – lilac, roses, chrysanthemums and arching stems of foliage, fresh from the garden, their scent invading the entire room.
Amelia bobbed behind a Hepplewhite chair, giving critical direction whilst Kit set the vase down. ‘A bit to your right.’
Careful not to spill any water, Kit shifted the heavy vase an inch or two but was told to go over to her right. ‘If I move it any further it won’t be in the middle.’
‘Doesn’t matter about that.’ Amelia still squatted behind the chair. ‘It’s got to be set just rig
ht so that the mistress doesn’t have to look at Master Tish. Mr Dolphin insists that the lad dines with them like a normal person – except if they have guests, of course – but his wife can’t bear to watch him eating.’
Kit took offence and contrarily placed the vase off-side. ‘He’s her child! How can she treat him like that? Doesn’t want to look at him indeed!’
‘You haven’t seen him.’ Pursing her lips, Amelia came around the table and deliberately moved the vase to the required position, going all the way back round the table to check the effect. ‘I’m surprised she doesn’t keep him in the attic. Lots would.’
‘That’s wicked. He’s their heir, isn’t he? How’s he going to be able to take charge of all this when his father dies if they don’t teach him?’
Amelia gave a tight laugh. ‘How can he be the heir? He doesn’t even know how to tie his shoelaces – mindst neither does the mistress, by all accounts. It’s not hard to see who he inherited his slow wits from.’ Satisfied with the vase, she checked that everything else was in place. ‘I feel sorry for her really, she’s not very happy with the master – married for money, both of them. It’s taken years for them to get a suitable heir. If Miss Agnes’d been a boy they would’ve been all right, but what with being forced to keep having children with someone you don’t love until you fulfil your duty, well, it’s left its mark.’
‘I could never marry if not for love,’ announced Kit wistfully.
Amelia snorted. ‘Well, it’s nowt to do with us, so don’t you go causing trouble.’
At the sound of carriage wheels both girls glanced out of the window. The man on the ladder grinned. Amelia tutted and craned her neck to show she was not interested in his attention, showing disapproval when Kit returned the friendly gesture.
‘Is this them?’ The taller sister watched the carriage approach.
‘No, it’s the servants come on ahead – which means the master won’t be far behind and that cheeky devil on the ladder’ll get his comeuppance.’ Amelia turned and flounced towards the door. ‘Come on, we’ll have to put water in their rooms!’
A Sense of Duty Page 11