Distancing herself from Tish’s room before dribbling the tea from saucer back to cup, Kit relaxed a little now that the worst was over and proceeded to Wyndham’s room. The youth, with similar countenance to his father, stretched and yawned as the maid approached him with a polite greeting. Kit put the tea tray on the bedside table and handed the somewhat depleted cup to the recumbent youth. Still drowsy, his eyes barely open, Wyndham reached out but in his gropings found, instead of china, a voluptuous breast. Kit jumped back, spilling tea into the saucer yet again, for which she quickly apologized and tipped it back into the cup. Seeming not to have noticed the accidental contact, young Wyndham barely reacted and taking a nonchalant sip of the beverage, gazed blearily at the wall as an embarrassed Kit hurried from the room.
Amelia seemed oblivious to her sister’s rather excited mood as they met upon the landing, and Kit found the incident too delicate to mention. Chores completed for now, the parlourmaids returned to the servants’ hall where a meal of bread and butter and slices of cold meat from yesterday’s roast awaited them.
Still flustered from her encounter, Kit breezed up to the table and sat between Algy and Charles as she had done yesterday, issuing an excitable, ‘Good morning!’
Completely ignoring her, Algy reached across the table for a cruet.
Blushing furiously at this obvious snub, plus the knowing looks that passed between other members of staff, Kit lowered her eyes to the table and played with her knife. Hence, breakfast was a very uncomfortable affair and she was glad when, after forty minutes, it was over.
Amelia was all knowing. ‘He tried it on last night, didn’t he?’ she asked as she and Kit left the hall to resume work.
Kit did not mention the previous day’s close call when Algy had almost succeeded in overpowering her. ‘Somebody turned my door handle but I had it barricaded. It must have been him.’
Amelia gave a sage nod, though in truth she was as ignorant as Kit over what actually took place when a man got his way. ‘It would have been. I doubt he’ll bother you any more now he knows you’re not that type.’
Kit gave a lame, ‘Oh.’ However relieved she might be not to suffer a fate worse than death she had hoped that Algy’s interest in her might be genuine. It was rather unflattering.
‘Eh, you’re not that desperate for a husband are you?’ demanded her sister with a note of concern.
‘Don’t be so rude!’ Kit was offended. ‘I just meant, is that all he wants?’ Whatever ‘that’ was.
‘Well of course! He tries it with every person in a skirt, whatever they look like.’
Kit wondered how her sister could be so thoughtless. ‘Has he pestered you much?’
‘He wouldn’t dare! At any rate, he’s hardly going to waste his time when he can get what he wants more easily elsewhere. Didn’t you notice Rosalind’s expression when he were paying such attention to you yesterday?’
Kit could not put a face to the name, but upon being given a description of a ruddy-faced blonde girl with ‘enough dirt under her nails to grow taties’, she responded, ‘Yes, I noticed she had a miserable gob on her, but I thought it was because of me getting the parlourmaid’s position.’
‘Well, that too – but she regards Algy as her property. Stupid girl, he’ll never marry her, she’s been with almost every man in the house, so I’m told.’
Kit was scandalized and, encouraged by Amelia’s seeming authority on the matter, was compelled to ask what exactly Rosalind’s behaviour involved.
Amelia bluffed her way out of this quickly, saying she wouldn’t dream of repeating such filth, then returned to the subject of Algy. ‘He’ll never marry anybody, that one, just takes what’s on offer – and it’s always on offer from Rosalind. So don’t worry, you’re safe now he knows where he stands.’
Relief mingled with disappointment – he was after all so very goodlooking – Kit hoped the latter sentiment would not show on her face as she was piloted to the great hall.
Here, Amelia instructed her to beat a gong and thus summon everyone to prayers.
After morning worship in the great hall, with Mrs Dolphin playing the piano, the family enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, during which Kit was slaving alongside housemaids in the bedrooms, carrying hip baths away, picking up clothes that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, helping to make beds which, with three mattresses to each, was a strenuous task, dusting, and all manner of other chores – though she left the more distasteful emptying of chamberpots to those of lower station. It was, she declared, bad enough emptying one’s own, never mind those of strangers.
At eleven there was a brief pause for a cup of tea, and then it was back to work until luncheon, an extravagant affair with several courses, at which she was required to wait at table. Encountering icy detachment from Algy, she decided that to ignore him too would be the best strategy, which was easy enough when they were upstairs but made the atmosphere in the servants’ hall unbearable – and it was all so incomprehensible. Kit was deeply hurt at his treatment, especially after having done him such a favour yesterday. Any sensible girl would have been thankful to be left alone, but Kit was too immature to know when she was well off, and she had never been one to endure injustice. So, when the time came for the upper servants to take their pudding alongside their superiors, she decided to bring matters into the open, using Mrs Grunter’s presence as a shield.
‘How long are you going to sulk just because I wouldn’t let you into my bedroom?’ Her abrupt demand stalled the clinking of spoons upon dishes.
Whilst others blurted scandalized laughter over the chocolate pudding, the housekeeper displayed indignance. ‘Kit! That is not the type of conversation for the dinner table – nor, come to that, in any kind of polite society.’
Kit was respectful but firm. ‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Grunter, but if I’m prevented from doing my job—’
‘Who’s stopping you?’ Though deeply unnerved, Algy proceeded to cram pudding into his mouth.
‘You are! With your hoity-toity attitude – after I were good enough to sew thy breeches yesterday!’ Kit displayed hurt. ‘Is this how you treat everybody who does you a favour?’
At her tone Algy’s hard edge dissolved somewhat, though he still countered her accusation, for the glares of his superiors were upon him. ‘I don’t know what she’s going on about!’ His expression beseeched everyone at the table. ‘I said thank you, didn’t I?’
‘Is it true you attempted impropriety with this young woman?’ demanded the steward, Mr Todd.
‘No!’ Algy reacted as if the very suggestion were anathema.
This attitude upset Kit even more. ‘Well, somebody tried to get into my room last night!’
‘What makes you think it were me?’ volleyed Algy.
His derogatory tone provoked more rash words. ‘Because you didn’t get what you wanted yesterday afternoon when you shoved me in the cupboard and you thought you’d try again!’
Crouched over her bowl, Amelia wanted to disappear beneath the table. Didn’t Kit mind how much embarrassment she caused to others? A tight-lipped Ivy clutched her friend’s arm in support.
‘Mr Todd!’ Spoon aloft, the housekeeper upbraided the steward. ‘I would be grateful if you would keep your men under stricter control!’
The steward was furious at being told how to do his job. ‘You can be assured, Mrs Grunter, Algernon will be suitably reprimanded.’
‘I haven’t done owt!’ objected Algy, not just to his superiors but to Rosalind, whose grey eyes were like flints. ‘It’s wishful thinking on Kit’s behalf. Why, she were acting like a—’
‘Silence!’ ordered the steward. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
Frustrated, Algy plunged his spoon into his dessert and crammed his mouth to bursting point, though the glare of pure hatred directed at his accuser was sufficient to communicate his feelings.
Others were looking at Kit none too kindly too, her sister amongst them. By trying to acquaint Algy with the injustice
of his actions she had only succeeded in making herself unpopular. In between the spoonfuls of pudding came hostile murmurs. A harsh rebuke from Mrs Grunter brought them to an end, but not before Kit heard the damning epithet – ‘Troublemaker!’
* * *
Following habit, Mrs Grunter and Mr Todd went visiting that Friday afternoon. Instantaneous to their departure, Kit was pounced up on by various colleagues, all eager to pour disgruntlement upon her. Algernon was not amongst them, being otherwise engaged in mending fences with Rosalind, his frantic overtures being performed in the housekeeper’s parlour, the risk of being discovered adding zest to the liaison.
Siding with Kit’s detractors, Amelia clutched her frizzy ginger head between her palms. ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed! How could you demean yourself like that – especially after I made a point of warning you about him!’
Kit was stunned by the furore, and deeply hurt by her sister’s disloyalty. ‘It wasn’t me who started all this! I was only defending my honour. I’m sure none of you would stay quiet if Algemon’d treated you like that.’
‘None of us are that stupid as to lead him on,’ retorted Ivy, to nods from the others.
‘I can’t see how being nice to folk can be classed as leading them on,’ protested Kit.
‘There’s being nice to someone and there’s flirting,’ scolded Cook. ‘You need to learn the difference.’
In the pregnant silence that followed, Kit tried to deflect attention from herself by asking, ‘What on earth is that ghastly noise?’ It sounded like an infant in distress, and had been puzzling her since she arrived.
A grim-faced Amelia was sparing with the explanation. ‘It’s Algy.’
Thinking the man was under some kind of assault, Kit looked askance until, through the window, a brilliant flash of colour caught her eye and she spotted a peacock balanced on top of a high wall. His preening stance made it obvious why he had been named after the footman. ‘Oh, isn’t he a beauty!’
Irked by the bird’s cries, Cook feigned agreement. ‘Yes, the only thing that would improve him is sage and onion stuffing. A handful wouldn’t go amiss with his namesake neither.’
Nettled at having the conversation brought back to her seducer, Kit complained, ‘I only mended his trousers, I didn’t expect the dirty dog to—’
‘You still telling lies about him?’ It was Rosalind, pink and dishevelled from her amorous entanglement. Algy’s cajolery had obviously paid off, for he entered the servants’ hall not far behind her wearing a smug grin, although he too pointed an accusing finger at Kit over Rosalind’s shoulder.
Rosalind’s face contorted in meanness – whoever had named her ‘pretty rose’ had a vivid imagination. ‘Imagine he’d look at summat like you!’
There was a hardness about the other that prevented Kit from further objection. Without ally, she stared dolefully at the floor. Satisfied at having put the new girl in her place, Kit’s blowsy rival gave Algy a possessive kiss and went off to the privy. The footman, now at liberty to take issue with the one who had caused him so much trouble, was just about to do so when a bell jingled.
‘That’ll be the master wanting his tea,’ said Amelia, who previously to berating Kit had been in the throes of preparing a tray.
‘I’ll take it!’ Seizing the opportunity to escape, Kit grabbed the loaded tray and hurried off.
Upstairs, his wife gone visiting, Mr Dolphin was preparing to entertain the Board of Guardians, of whom he was a respected member. Accepting the tea, he sat back and stared so long at Kit that she grew unsettled. Did everyone in this house find the need to examine her so closely?
Wriggling uncomfortably in her slippers, she felt herself turning pink and at the risk of causing annoyance eventually blurted, ‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
Mr Dolphin appeared to emerge from his trance. ‘What? Ah yes. The members of the Board will be arriving in half an hour. Convey to Algernon that you are to assist him in their reception. It has passed my notice that you and he are of similar height – indeed,’ he displayed incredulity, ‘you are of a most unusual stature for a woman. I think my guests will be intrigued by the pairing, some may even contend that you make a handsome match.’
Trying to glean some compliment out of these rude observations, Kit said, ‘Thank you very much, sir. I’ll pass on your instructions to Algernon.’
Apprehensive over the reception these orders would receive when issued by her unpopular lips, she left the room. In the corridor a huge looking-glass mirrored her movements. There were so many reflective surfaces here that Kit could not possibly resist their lure and paused before this one, examining her body this way and that for some hint of beauty. Handsome match? Chance would be a fine thing. As she turned away from the mirror to proceed along the corridor she almost bumped into Tish, who had been lurking quietly nearby watching her. Stifling a yelp, and embarrassed at being caught out thus, she attempted to hurry on her way towards the back staircase. But Tish decided to follow her, indeed, he stuck intimately close even when Kit increased her pace. Unnerved by his breath on her cheek, Kit stopped abruptly in her tracks, balanced the tray on her arm, delved into her apron pocket for one of the sugar lumps she had filched from the bowl to take home as a treat for her little nieces, and with a tentative smile handed it over to the nuisance.
Tish regarded the offering blankly for a moment, then turned his dull gaze to Kit’s face. ‘I’m not a horse.’
Feeling utterly foolish, Kit blushed and dropped the segment of sugar back into her apron pocket. ‘I just thought you might like – well, if you’ll excuse me, Master Eustace.’ She put one foot forward.
‘What’s your name?’ came the abrupt demand.
‘Kit.’ She remained wary. He had begun to walk alongside her again and was uncomfortably close. Simpleton or no, he was a man and she was now all too aware what they were capable of.
‘I’m Tish.’ His formerly expressionless face broke into a wide grin, then just as quickly returned to its impassive state.
Kit managed to return the smile. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance – but I’d better be about my business.’
Not easily put off, Tish hurried alongside her to the staircase. ‘I like you.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Master Tish.’ Thinking she would never be rid of him Kit paused at the top of the staircase and looked firm. ‘I go this way now.’
Her hint unrecognized, Kit gave an inward sigh and proceeded down the back staircase, her admirer in tow.
Their entrance to the servants’ domain caused more unrest. ‘What’ve you brought him down here for?’ demanded Amelia.
Kit hissed back. ‘I couldn’t get rid of him!’
‘Now, Master Tish, you know you shouldn’t be down here!’ Ivy delivered a gentle scold at the young man who was wandering around paying close examination to objects and people.
Tish was a man of few words. ‘She made me come.’
Finding herself the object of his abstracted gesture, Kit gasped. ‘The cheeky—!’
‘Ssh!’ Amelia silenced her. ‘Remember who you’re speaking of. He might be daft but he can still repeat things.’ Then she and her friend lurched after Tish who, in a sudden flash of adventure, had gone to explore the kitchen. ‘Aw, catch him, Mrs Hellawell’ll go mad!’
Mrs Hellawell did portray a degree of madness, demanding to know who had brought the youth down here, and when all fingers pointed at Kit, turned on her.
‘I didn’t encourage him, Mrs Hellawell!’ Kit beseeched the persona of quivering corpulence. ‘I can’t help it if he’s taken a shine to me.’
‘Taken a shine to you?’ The cook offered a scoffing high-pitched laugh. ‘You think too highly of yourself, my girl! It’s my baking he’s after. Now, Master Tish, you be a good lad and get back up where you belong – yes, before you ask you can take a bun with you! And Kit can escort you safely on your way.’ She made gesticulations for Kit to undertake this. ‘And just make sure you take him all the w
ay and see he gets to where he’s going without anymore mishap,’ came the hissed addition.
Inwardly cursing her employer’s son for adding to her unpopularity, Kit ushered the intruder to the top of the back staircase, ascertaining he was on his own territory before returning to hers.
Before reaching the kitchen she was intercepted by Myrtle who, bucket and mop in hand, approached her in grovelling manner. ‘Begging your pardon, miss …’
At Kit’s smile she felt able to proceed. ‘I just wanted to say sorry for getting you into trouble – I mean you getting the blame for Master Tish coming down to the kitchen.’
Kit gave a puzzled laugh. ‘I don’t see as how it’s your fault.’
Myrtle continued to fawn. ‘Well, it is in a way ’cause he came to see me.’
Whilst thinking it wrong that the other parlourmaids snubbed those lower in rank, Kit felt superior enough to Myrtle to offer a patronizing smile. ‘I hardly think so.’
Myrtle stood her ground. ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but he did.’ With the other rendered speechless, she babbled on. ‘He was down here on the first day I started and he’s been coming down quite regular ever since.’
Kit found her voice, which bore the vaguest hint of contempt. ‘Yes, well, apparently it’s Mrs Hellawell’s baking that lures—’
A Sense of Duty Page 14