Kit was like a child let loose in a toyshop, preening gleefully before the mirror, experimenting with tortoiseshell combs and diamante tiaras. If only there were someone other than herself to admire her.
Gazing wistfully at her own reflection one afternoon in April, an idea began to form. It was her afternoon off tomorrow. She was not due to go to Monty’s but would only be enjoying a stroll. What harm would it do if she were to borrow one or two items just for an hour? It wasn’t like stealing, she would return them unharmed, as she had done the books. No one would be any the wiser, for she would wait until she were well away from the house before putting them on. After the briefest moment of indecision Kit ripped off her apron, laid it flat and piled upon it a shawl, a bag and a hat, then swiftly wrapped them up in a bundle and hurried from the room. There was the briefest flash of fear as, in her dash along the corridor she encountered Tish, and she prayed he wouldn’t follow her today. But he seemed preoccupied with other thoughts, allowing her to proceed via the back stairs to her own room, where she stowed the contraband under her bed. Heart fluttering, Kit gave a little laugh at her own audacity, then rushed off before anyone came to see where she had got to.
* * *
The trouble about getting away with things, thought Kit upon returning to the Hall after her first audacious outing, was that it made one even bolder, willing to take bigger risks. Alas, instead of listening to that inner warning voice, the borrowing became a regular habit; each time a different combination of hat, gloves and shawl. She even had the nerve to wear Mrs Dolphin’s attire on a trip home to Monty’s – which turned out to be a total waste of time as she had never been granted any admiration here, apart from that of the children.
Owen took one look at her green feathered hat and warned the gathering, ‘Eh up, it’s Robin Hood.’
After the initial jocular insults about their sister coming to rob the rich, and the protestations from Beata that she looked lovely, Owen returned to his more important task of gaining his brother’s co-operation, putting forth an intelligent argument as to why Monty should join the union. Coal prices were falling drastically, there was talk of cuts in wages. Owen’s intention to fight this move would inevitably lead to a lockout, whence everyone would suffer. At least if Monty was in the union he would receive strike pay. This monetary element gained him an unlikely ally in Sarah. Bit by bit, Monty’s resistance dwindled. By the time the afternoon ended Owen’s union had a new member.
Triumphant, the younger brother tried to consolidate his gains by telling Beata she should form a union amongst her female co-workers.
She gave a chesty laugh. ‘Us lasses aren’t interested in that!’
‘No, that’s why you’re so exploited! Too busy wasting time on yer fancy hats.’ Owen’s complaint was directed more at Kit. ‘If you women seriously want to get the vote you’ll have to band together.’
‘I’m not right bothered about getting t’vote.’ Kit picked at a hangnail. ‘I’d just like folk to know I’m capable of more than skivvying.’
‘I thought you wanted to get married?’ Sarah projected cynicism.
‘Well, I don’t consider it being a skivvy to look after one’s husband,’ opined Amelia, to whom marriage was still a novelty.
‘You can still have a husband and children and have a brain as well,’ reasoned Kit.
‘Not round these parts,’ rallied Sarah.
Kit was impatient with their grumblings. ‘Who said I have to marry a collier?’
Owen rebuked her for this – was militantly proud of his class. ‘There’s nowt wrong with a man who gets his hands mucky. Never forget, the Lord was a working man.’
‘Well, I say good luck to you.’ It was a very rare occasion when Sarah was on Kit’s side. ‘I’ve told my girls, don’t marry the first man who comes along, pay heed to your school books and get yourself out of this filthy hole.’
Monty frowned upon his wife’s insistence on teaching their children that they were better than they really were, but what hurt even more was her implication that the home he provided was a filthy hole. ‘I’m all for getting a good education, but it don’t do to get above your station.’ Once more Kit was placed under surveillance. Of all the people in this room, she showed the most ingratitude. Having sacrificed everything, it galled him to have to sit in his own house and hear this flibbertigibbet belittling his status. ‘And let me tell ’ee, Miss High and Mighty, you can do a lot worse for yourself than a collier – ask Mrs Allen, ask all they other widows who sacrificed their men so that you and they nobs you admire so much can warm their bodies and cook their food. Where would you be without the likes of them?’
Owen too was annoyed. Every other collier he knew except Monty could expect support from his wife. Sarah could never seem to forget that she was the daughter of a deputy, thought she was a cut above anyone else. But his main accusation was for Kit. ‘As if we don’t have enough chucked at us from them flamin’ newspapers, calling us from pigs to dogs, making out we get our brass for doing nowt—’
‘I didn’t mean to denigrate!’ Kit showed contrition. ‘I know you do a rough job—’
‘And for what reward?’ asked Owen. ‘There’s me and our lad up before dawn, home after dusk, in winter never seeing daylight, not knowing whether we’re going to come out alive – not even knowing whether we’ll get the same pay this week as last. Doesta think I wouldn’t like to buy my wife some of them fancy clothes you’ve got on?’
Kit tried to disguise her look of guilt, anticipating the inevitable question.
‘How can you afford them anyway?’
All eyes were on Kit. ‘I can’t … I borrowed them.’
It did not take much to work out from whom. Amelia clamped a hand to her mouth.
‘My God, you’ll have us hanged!’ cried Sarah, all amity evaporating. ‘Get them off right away and go back to your mansion!’
‘Preferably in reverse order.’ Owen managed a laugh of exasperation as his sister was chivvied from the house. ‘We don’t want to scare the hosses.’
‘And don’t you dare come here dressed like that again!’ came Sarah’s final volley.
Why do I bother? Kit asked herself on her dispirited journey back to her place of work. I might have known it would be a waste of time. Robin Hood indeed!
* * *
Despite this upset, a defiant Kit continued to borrow her employer’s clothes throughout the spring and early summer – though she was careful not to parade them in her brother’s house. Such displays of ostentation would be even less appreciated now, for almost immediately following her notable visit Owen’s union had resisted a proposed reduction in wages and had been locked out. Now, in July, at Kit’s latest call, they had been out for almost three months, their action replayed throughout the whole country as the mine owners sought to alleviate their own losses from the drastic drop in coal prices by reducing wages.
Kit donated a portion of her quarterly wages, remarking on the lack of enthusiasm this received.
Sarah explained the long faces. ‘They’re going back tomorrow.’
‘Well, that’s good isn’t it?’ asked Kit.
Her sister-in-law snorted. ‘They’re going back on the master’s terms. What a waste of time it all was.’
Owen was sicker than most. Union funds had been milked almost dry. Men were asking what was the point of making these contributions and were threatening to leave. His elder brother was similarly inclined.
‘How can a handful of men be expected to fight the masters?’ asked Monty.
‘I agree.’ Owen fought his despondency. ‘What we really need to do is unite all our separate unions.’ He brought his hands together to form one fist. ‘It’s no good having a hundred here and a hundred there scattered about all over t’place – we have to form a national body.’
Kit groaned to herself and, having no wish to listen to such a conversation on her day off, gave Beata a nudge and cocked her head towards the door.
Beata rose.
Other children jumped up too and, not wanting to miss out, asked where the pair of them were going. ‘We’re only off to t’farleymelow – can I have some paper, Dad?’
Monty reached for the wad of cut-up newspaper down by the side of his chair, first inspecting the printed squares for dubious material before handing four pieces over. None of his offspring was permitted to read the paper, the only bits of news they heard were those which he deemed suitable to be read aloud to them.
Kit and Beata went off to the privy. Beata wanted to know if Kit still borrowed Mrs Dolphin’s accoutrements, and if so had they helped to attract any male attention?
‘Yea and nay,’ replied Kit. ‘Yes, I am still borrowing them – I hid her hat and shawl behind t’pub before I came to your house.’ She sniggered. ‘I hope Marion hasn’t found ’em! As for male attention,’ she shook her head sadly, ‘I’ve had nowt worth speaking of – but I live in hope.’
That hope was to be rewarded, for on Kit’s journey back through the village which verged on Cragthorpe Hall, she was to find herself subject to the scrutiny she so desired. Glancing towards an old coaching inn she saw, through a window, a well-dressed young man in open admiration of her. Caught out, he immediately looked away and pretended to be admiring the view, but as a smiling Kit feigned to look straight ahead she could tell that his eyes had been drawn back to her. A quick look back over her shoulder provoked disappointment, for the face at the window had gone, but in the next instant she felt his presence again. He was walking up the lane behind her, struggling into a blue frock coat as if his departure had been made in haste.
Realizing that she was almost to her destination, Kit slowed to a snail’s pace, allowing him to catch up. Soon they were walking at a level, though the strip of lane lay between them, he on one side, she on the other. The young man raised his top hat, though no word passed his lips. Speak to me, urged Kit, for the gates of Cragthorpe loomed to rob her of his presence. As encouragement she gave him a desperate sideways smile and drew to a halt outside the elaborate gates as if to say, ‘I go this way.’ Seemingly about to approach her, instead he merely doffed his hat again in awkward fashion and hurried on. Spirits plummeting, Kit watched his retreating back for a moment – and was heartened to see that he looked back over his shoulder, donating something resembling a smile.
Still under scrutiny, Kit was loath to abandon her ladylike air – could not possibly enter through the servants’ entrance. Good sense giving way to impulse, she began her lofty approach to the house along the main driveway.
Only yards into her journey she was dismayed to spot a great deal of activity around the front entrance. The Dolphins had arrived from London!
Regretting her foolhardiness and in her panic abandoning all thought of the young man, Kit dived behind the nearest tree, darting from this to another and thence to a clump of shrubbery, trying to cross the expanse of parkland without being seen, scattering deer and peafowl before her.
Once inside the garden at the rear of the house she felt a little less exposed for she was on familiar ground now and, under cover of a series of stone walls and privet hedges, was able to make her way to the servants’ entrance without being spotted, eventually to be safely ensconced in her proper place.
Her self-congratulation was short-lived, for there was no evading her peers who all gawked and gesticulated at her, at which point Kit realized to her dismay that in her frantic dash she had forgotten to remove the paisley shawl and feathered hat.
‘You’re in for it!’ Lily took great delight in telling her. ‘Mrs Dolphin saw you coming in by the front gate. Mrs Grunter’s waiting for you in her parlour.’
‘God, look at her fancy hat! You didn’t buy that on your wage,’ said Rosalind.
‘What are you implying?’ demanded Kit, at which the gaggle of kitchenmaids responded by giving each other knowing looks.
Taking off the borrowed apparel, Kit went reluctantly to the housekeeper’s room, contemplating her inevitable dismissal and wondering where on earth she would go for a job next. With Monty and Sarah just getting back to financial stability after the lockout it was the worst possible time for this to happen. Added to the economical implication, loomed the vision of a humiliating departure in front of her peers, some of whom would take great delight in it. Even worse, it appeared she was to receive her notice in front of the entire family, its members gathered in the drawing room enjoying a reunion with Tish, who jumped from one to the other like an excited child.
The celebration became more subdued as the parlourmaid was brought before her master and mistress, though Wyndham and Everard shared a smirk at the comical contrast between the giant Kit and the diminutive Mrs Grunter.
‘Well, this is a fine situation to greet us upon our return,’ announced Mrs Dolphin, clearly revived by her spell in the capital, for her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink.
Kit bit her lip and looked at the carpet. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Y ou are obviously aware of your misdemeanour.’ Mrs Dolphin inclined her lace-capped head as if to draw Kit’s eyes to hers. ‘One assumes you can supply an explanation for such audacity.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ offered Kit, her eyes darting briefly from the carpet, but only as far as the ruched skirt of her mistress’s deep blue silk gown.
‘I am grateful for your apology, Kit, but that is not an explanation. Presumably you have none to give?’
Thoroughly disgraced, Kit shook her head.
‘You are fully conversant with the rules of this house?’
Kit gave murmured affirmation. Everyone’s eyes were upon her, especially Wyndham’s. At least she would no longer have to put up with his assaults.
‘And yet you have just brazenly flouted one of them. I could scarcely believe my eyes upon seeing you on the main drive wearing the most unsuitable apparel!’
It was all Kit could do to keep a straight face. The mistress obviously did not recognize her own clothes! But this was no laughing matter; she was about to lose yet another job.
‘All my coaching, all my good advice, did it count for nothing? How many times must I repeat myself?’ Mrs Dolphin’s next sentence was given great emphasis. ‘It does not befit a maid to get above her station. Repeat the words that I may know you understand them, Kit.’
‘It does not befit a maid to get above her station,’ parroted Kit.
‘Again!’
Kit repeated the adage several times before the mistress appeared to be satisfied.
‘And will you similarly adorn yourself again?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘And will you commit further trespass upon zones which are forbidden to you?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘Very well, that is an end to your chastisement.’ Throughout, Mrs Dolphin’s hands had remained folded upon her silken lap, but now she raised a finger as if reconsidering her last statement. ‘Apart from to say that you will sacrifice your next two afternoons off. You may consider yourself very fortunate that I am not disposed to waste such a beautiful day on irrevelant issues.’
Glancing momentarily at Mr Dolphin in his tweed suit, Kit noticed a slight flare to his nostrils – why, his wife’s inability to pronounce this word annoyed him too! Feeling his glare as he realized that a servant shared his observation of his wife’s stupidity, Kit looked away.
Oblivious, Mrs Dolphin continued, ‘Mrs Grunter, you may tell Cook that we shall take an early dinner, thank you. The master and I will be going out this evening.’
Given leave to remove her presence, Kit made a chastened exit, but could scarcely believe her luck. ‘So, I’m not being dismissed?’ she asked the housekeeper on their way back to the servants’ quarters.
‘Not today!’ Little Mrs Grunter barged through the demarcation door, passing briskly from Persian carpet to linoleum. ‘But you are very, very lucky, my girl, and if ever I catch you—’
‘Oh, you won’t, Mrs Grunter. I humbly beg your pardon!’
Mrs Grunter issued
additional severe warning for Kit to let nothing like this happen again and to pack away the unsuitable clothes. With this she went into her own parlour and closed the door.
Applauding her own luck – not only did she keep her job but could keep the hat and shawl too, for she would be unable to return them without admitting borrowing them – Kit could not prevent a grin from forming as she returned to the servants’ hall.
‘Leaving today, are we?’ smirked Rosalind, and when Kit retorted that she had not been dismissed, she added, ‘Well, you soon will be.’
Kit looked enquiringly at other faces, her eyes falling on Mrs Dolphin’s personal maid, who was holding out the hat and shawl accusingly.
‘I’m certain the mistress wouldn’t have been so charitable had she been aware that it was her clothes you were wearing!’
Kit’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Please don’t tell her!’
The lady’s maid pursed her lips, hesitating.
‘Well, I would!’ said Rosalind.
‘Don’t be so bloody mean,’ accused Algy, and was reprimanded for his swearing.
Smarting under her paramour’s scorn, Rosalind remained tight-lipped though her face adopted an angry flush.
After much deliberation the lady’s maid said she would not give Kit away but if ever the parlourmaid dared to touch the mistress’s clothes again she would have no hesitation in having her dismissed. So saying, she removed Kit’s prizes to their rightful place.
‘You’ve got the luck of the devil, you have!’ Algy gave an admiring laugh after the lady’s maid had gone. ‘Any of us’d come waltzing down the front path wearing the mistress’s clothes we’d’ve been a gonner.’
A Sense of Duty Page 18