After they departed the house once again fell into its familiar pattern, and the master became morose and seemingly more demanding as the days went on. There were times when nothing was right. These came generally after his failure to adjust to the wooden stump and false foot for his left leg. The apparatus was leather-capped, as was the smaller artificial foot to adjust to the right ankle. Yet he had more success with the leg that extended to the knee than with the foot attached to his ankle; the bones here were so sensitive that the slightest pressure caused the water to spring to his eyes and his nails to dig into whatever he was holding at the time, which more often than not was Tilly's arm.
Always he apologised for this; and one time he unbuttoned the cuff of her sleeve and, pushing it up, he looked at the blue marks his nails had caused. For a moment she imagined he was going to put his lips to them, and so she had pulled her arm away, saying, ""Tis nothing, sir. 'Tis nothing."
There was no fear in her life now. The village could have been on another planet. It was so long ago since she had passed through it, she had even forgotten what it looked like. And those about her bore her no resentment, much the reverse. She was given respect and her wishes were adhered to in every possible way.
Yet she was not happy, for deep inside her she knew that sooner or later a question would be put to her, and if she said "No", what then? And should she say
"Yes"'' . But she couldn't say "Yes". She couldn't give herself to somebody she didn't love. Yet she had a feeling for him, a strong feeling but different from that she still carried for Simon.
At times when she couldn't imagine herself living any kind of life but that which she was living now she would ask herself why not, because this present way of living would lead nowhere. She knew what happened to serving girls who gave in to masters. Oh yes, she knew that well enough. Yet she no longer felt a serving girl, and that was strange. Well, not so strange, she told herself, because it wasn't every servant girl who could discuss books. And then again he wasn't like an ordinary master. There were times when she felt she knew him better than any wife would know her husband, certainly better than his own wife did, for she knew she had spent more time with him in one month than his wife had spent with him in years, at least in the years after she had taken to her couch. So what was going to come of it? She didn't know. Then one night the opportunity was given to her to find out.
It was two days before Christmas, 1840. The house was warm and there was a gaiety prevailing in it, even without the children being present. Bunches of holly were hanging here and there. There was a mistletoe bough hanging in the hall where a huge fire was blazing in the iron basket on the great open hearth. The drawing-room was ablaze with light. All the lamps were lit in the house because the master was expecting company. Mr John Tolman and his lady, Mr Stanley Fieldman and his lady, and Mr Albert Cragg and his lady were coming to dinner.
Mark was dressed in a new blue velvet dinner-jacket and a cream silk shirt and cravat. Mr Burgess had trimmed his hair to just above the top of his collar. A few minutes before he was ready to be carried downstairs by Fred Leyburn and John Hillman he said to Tilly, "Well!
and how do I look? The caterpillar emerging from the chrysalis. But a very late emergence, therefore a very old butterfly."
She smiled widely at him, saying, "You look very handsome, sir."
"Thank you, Trotter. And you, you look very ...
very charming. Grey suits you, but... but I would take that apron off."
She looked down at the small dainty lawn apron hemmed by a tiny frill that had taken her hours to sew, and she said, "You don't like it, sir?"
"It's all right in its place but not for tonight. You are acting in the role of housekeeper, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know what is expected of you?"
"Yes, sir. I'm to take the ladies into
... madam's room"--she had
paused before uttering the word madam--"and assist them off with their cloaks, and ... and wait in the dressing-room in case they call me. And to be on hand during the evening should ... they need to come upstairs."
"You have been well primed. Who told you of this procedure? I just meant you to help them off with their cloaks when they came up... ."
"I understand it's what Mrs Lucas used to do, sir."
"Oh, I see. Well, I shall leave that part to you. Now tell Leyburn that I am ready... ."
Ten minutes later he was ensconced in the wheel-chair in the drawing-room, and when the butler came in to tend the fire, he said, "Everything in order, Pike?"
"Yes, sir. I think the table is as you wish it, and cook has carried out your orders as regards the main course. The turkey is a fine bird, sir, together with the braised tongue."
"Good. Good."
"And Miss Trotter wrote out a menu for the cook to cover the rest of the meal: Soup for the first course, sir, then crimped cod and oyster sauce, followed by pork cutlets in tomato sauce; then, as I said, the turkey and tongue, sir. This will be followed by cheesecake and nesselrode pudding, and, of course, the cheeses; we have a very fine ripe Stilton, sir."
"Sounds excellent, Pike, excellent."
Mark had turned the chair towards the fire; he could not let the old man see that he was amused. Now that he knew Trotter was in favour, Pike never missed an opportunity to sing her praises, if unobtrusively. And it was quite some time ago off his own bat, that Pike had appended the miss to Trotter. It was what Trotter had once referred to as crawling, yet there were times when he felt sorry for the man, for he had aged visibly since most of the old staff were dismissed and he had elected to stay on, and his legs seemed hardly able to carry him. What would happen to him should he retire him now he didn't know, for he had known no other home but this house since he was a boy. Oh! why concern himself about such things at this moment. Tonight he was entertaining friends for the first time in more than two years, and there would be women at his table.
It was odd when he came to think about it but it wasn't he who had suggested the get-together; it was Cragg on his last visit who had said, "Isn't it about time you had some company?" and he had gladly fallen in with the suggestion.
When he heard the carriages draw up outside he wheeled himself into
the hall, there to welcome his guests. "Delighted to see you, delighted to see you. Hello, Joan.
Hello, my dear Olive. Why Sendee, such a long time since we last met."
"Wonderful to see you, Mark."
"You're looking so well, Mark."
"My dear Mark, how lovely to be here again."
"Will you come this way, madam?"
After a moment the ladies turned and followed the tall, slim, greyclad figure. Their silken skirts making sounds like the ebbing waves on a beach, they swept up the staircase, across the gallery and into the wide corridor where Tilly, after opening the door leading into what was once Eileen's sitting-room, stood aside and allowed them to enter.
The room was softly lit by the light from two pink-shaded oil lamps and a glowing fire, and it showed up the gold embroider right-brace on the chaiselongue, and the deep rose velvet upholstery of the Louis-Seize. Added light was given by the candelabra arranged at each end of the long dressing-table, and between them lay the powder boxes and toilet water ready to hand.
One after the other she helped the three women off with their cloaks, and one after the other she hung the velvet and fur-trimmed garments in the wardrobe, conscious all the while that the women were eyeing her, one of them through the long cheval mirror, another from where she sat in front of the dressing-table; the third, a very stout madam, stood looking at her without any pretext whatsoever.
Tilly wetted her lips, swallowed her spittle, then said, "If the ladies should require me I shall be in the adjoining room."
Had she said the right thing or the wrong thing, for now all three of them were looking at her directly? And then she did the unforgivable, she forgot her place to such an extent that she didn't bend her knee. Of late, she ha
d been out of the habit of doing so, and when she did remember it was too late, she was already entering the dressing-room.
Closing the door behind her, she stood with her back to it and let out a long drawn breath, then closed her eyes tightly, and as she stood thus the muted voices came to her, words indistinguishable at first, but then snatches here and there.
"I told you, didn't I?"
"It was evident, Albert said."
"Nonsense!"
"You were right, Bernice."
"Nonsense!"
"Not after Myton; he would never stoop. Educating her? ... Nonsense!"
"Stanley says it's impossible to educate the peasantry."
"Queer stories."
"Odd looking altogether...shapeless."
One of them laughed, a high laugh; then a voice said, "Well, what are we here for?" and another answered, in a quite ordinary tone, "What indeed!
Let us go down."
"Girl!"
She paused a moment, then turned and opened the door. The three women were standing close together, that is as close as their billowing skirts would allow, and it was the stout one who, with a lazy gesture, waved her hand towards the door. Following the silent command, Tilly opened it and stood aside, and they all three floated past her, leaving behind them a beautiful smell of perfume.
After closing this door, too, she stood with her back to it. And now she asked herself why she should feel so angry, was it because they had been talking about her?
Yet when she tried to recall the disjointed sentences she found she was unable to do so. But the impression remained strong and disturbing: they had been talking about her, and she imagined that if she were not the main reason, she was certainly part of the reason why they were here tonight.
"Aw, don't be daft." She pulled herself from the door and went to sit down on a chair, but stopped herself as she thought, No, it wouldn't be right, not in this room; and so, going out, she went into the master's room and there, sitting down, she asked herself why it was one instinctively disliked some people. Those three, for instance, she felt she hated them. It was the way they had looked at her, as if she were of no more account than an animal. Less, for the class were known to care for their horses and their hounds. Biddy was saying the other day that there were good gentry and bad. In some of their houses you were in luck, in others you were like muck.
Biddy came out with some funny sayings. Which reminded her, she'd better get downstairs.
A few minutes later she was in the kitchen.
Here there was bustle and excitement: Mr Pike and Phyllis were serving in the dining-room, but waiting on them were Peg and Katie, and running back and forward in the kitchen was Ada Tennant and young Fanny, while supervising them all was Biddy.
"How's it going?" She was standing by Biddy's side.
"All right from this end, lass. Everything was done to a turn. But my
God! that pu.in', it has me worried. I only hope it tastes as good as all the stuff that's gone into it. The cheesecake's all right and the rest, but oh"--she glanced at Tilly--"this is more up my street, not fancy puddings," and she continued stacking the small sausages round the base of the bird.
Lastly, she poured a glazed sauce over its breastbone, and standing back, she looked at it with her head on one side as she said, "We could get through that quite nicely oursels, eh Tilly?" Then, "There now, Peg; put the cover on, and in you go with it.
Steady! Don't spill the juice. And you, Katie, get the vegetables in."
She now went up the kitchen and took from the round oven the silver vegetable dishes, saying, "They're not that hot, you can handle them. There you are." She placed four on a tray that was large enough to cause Katie to have to spread her arms wide in order to carry it.
Returning to the table, she said, "Once the main course is in I always think it's easy going after that."
"You'll be glad to get off your legs."
"Aye, I will. It's been a long day, but an important one." She nodded at Tilly. "You see, I've never cooked a dinner like this for the gentry afore, not for a proper do. It's different sending bits and pieces upstairs. Everything had to be right for this, hadn't it?"
"And you got it right. I knew you would."
"You look tired, lass. Anything wrong?"
"No, nothing."
"What are they like, the ladies?"
It suddenly sprang to Tilly's mind to answer,
"Bitches!" but instead, she said, "If they hadn't their fine clothes on they'd look like ordinary women."
At this Biddy put her head back and laughed, then slanting her eyes towards Tilly, she said,
"You're learnin', lass. Aye you're learnin'.
Put me in mind of what me granda used to say, so me mother told me, when she used to come back from her place at the castle and talked about the ladies and gentlemen there. He used to say, "Aye; aye, lass; but just remember they've got to gan to the closet like ye and me.""
Tilly pressed her lips together, then said, "How right you are."
After a moment Biddy asked, "Where's your apron, I thought you were goin' to wear it, the one that you made?"
"The master didn't like it; he ...he told me to take it off."
Biddy was looking squarely at her now. "Why?"
"I don't know. I... I suppose he just didn't like it."
Biddy turned from her and, reaching out, gently lifted up the elabo-rate iced pudding reposing on a shallow cut-glass dish, the base of which was surrounded by coloured crystallised flowers, and she gently shook her head but made no further remark, and Tilly, divining her thoughts, turned away... .
The dinner lasted about an hour and a half.
Snatches of talk and laughter seeped into the hall, but later, after the company had retired to the drawing-room the laughter and talk became louder, the scent of cigar smoke filled the house, and the air seemed filled with jollity. Definitely so in the servants' hall, where they were all tucking into the remains of the feast.
Tilly had had a tray brought
upstairs so that she could be on hand if the ladies should require her. She had forgotten to show them the way to the closet, but none of them seemed to have been in need of it so far. It was eleven o'clock and she'd been up from six that morning and now, right or wrong, she was sitting in the armchair, her head nodding, when she heard the chatter outside on the landing.
She was on her feet when the door opened and the three women came into the room. Passing her as if she were non-existent, they flopped down here and there on the chairs. Then one laughing said, "I need the closet," and another answered, "Me, too; but I'll have to wait until I get home and get out of me stays."
"Do you think you'll last, Bernice?"
"Well, if I don't... pop goes the weasel!"
Standing at the far end of the room, beside the door leading into the dressing-room, Tilly could hardly believe her ears. They were coarse these women, yet they were ladies, in fact two of them were daughters of men with titles. They had acted like great dames a few hours ago, now, full of wine and food, they were talking no better than those they employed; in fact, there were some ordinary folk who didn't discuss such things, personal things.
"Me cloak, girl!"
She walked swiftly across the room and, taking a cloak down from the wardrobe, she tentatively held it out to the woman. "That isn't mine. Don't be stupid, girl! The brown velvet."
She brought the brown velvet and helped the owner into it. Then taking another cloak from the wardrobe, she stood with it in her hand looking towards the two women, and one of them said, quite civilly, "That's mine." Then they were all ready to go and, laughing and chatting, they went from the room without a glance in her direction. And yet, strangely, she knew they were as aware of her as she was of them.
Snatches of their conversation came to her as she followed them down the corridor.
"Did you see his face when Albert mentioned Agnes's new bull?"
"'Twas naughty of Albert, and Mark was mad.
"
"What d'you think of the other?"
"Don't really know. Could be."
"I thought I'd have the vapours when Stanley grumbled about his feet and the gout."
"'Twasn't intentional, 'twasn't."
"God! I want the closet."
Tilly didn't know if she were supposed to follow them downstairs and help to see them out, but she didn't go. Mr Pike was there, that would suffice. The bull they were referring to was likely Lady Myton's new lover, and this must have displeased the master. They were as she had dubbed them at first, bitches, three bitches.
The door could hardly have closed on them when the master ordered to be carried upstairs, and when she saw his face she knew he was in a temper.
The men carried him past her and into the closet; afterwards they sat him in a chair beside the bed. When they had gone he called to her in the dressing-room, his voice imperious, "Trotter! Trotter!"
"Yes, sir?" She stood in front of him and when he looked up at her without speaking she said,
"Have you had a good evening, sir?"
"No, Trotter," he replied, "I have not, as you say, had a good evening." He spaced the words.
"How many friends can you expect to have in life, can you tell me?"
"No, sir."
"If you have two, you are damned lucky, but I don't think I have one, not a true friend.
A man who was a true friend would control his wife, at least her tongue, when in company. Trotter, those three ladies came tonight to find out something. Have you any idea what it was?"
She stared unblinking at him as she said, "No, sir," knowing now that she could truthfully have said,
"Yes, sir."
"That's just as well. Here, pull this shirt off me." He tore at his cravat, and when she had stripped him down to the waist he said as he always did now, "I can manage." She had already laid his nightshirt on the bed. There was no nightcap beside it, for he was strange in that he didn't like nightcaps.
And yet most gentlemen wore nightcaps, so she understood. Perhaps it was because he had never powdered his hair or
worn a wig. But then lots of gentlemen didn't wear wigs today or powder. Even so, she would have thought they all wore nightcaps.
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