‘Rubbish!’ countered the maid bravely. Cook could be quite a formidable opponent, especially down here in her own domain and normally Abigail toed the line, but she wasn’t having that said about Miss Belle.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Cook’s eyes widened. The children’s spoons halted at the tone of voice.
‘I said rubbish, Mrs Howgego. She gets her lovely eyes from the master, like a lot of other people in the family, an’ I think she’s got enough against her without you implying that she’s some child o’ the devil.’
‘I never said anything of the kind! An’ I think you’re getting a bit above yourself, my girl.’
‘Well, I might be, but someone’s got to stick up for her, haven’t they?’
‘At the expense of your job? I don’t want no back-chatters working for me, thank you very much.’
‘Oh, an’ you’re going to have the mistress sack me, are you?’ retorted Abigail.
‘I might do.’ Cook stalked over to the range to check on a simmering pan.
‘An’ I might just tell her what you’ve been saying about her grandbairn!’ was Abigail’s broadside.
‘Eh!’ exclaimed Cook frustratedly. ‘No wonder they call you Bickerdike – just go wash them pots an’ less of your cheek!’ She made herself look busy to cover up for lost pride.
Abigail winked at Belle, receiving an instant smile. There you are! said the maid to herself. You have got all your marbles, haven’t you? It’s just taking you a while to put them in order, that’s all. ‘I think t’master’s right in giving her a birthday party what wi’ poor little mite losin’ her dad an’ that.’
‘I still say she won’t know whether it’s her birthday or Christmas,’ emphasised Cook when the golden cake was brought out of the oven. ‘Still, who am I to argue wi’ them that knows better.’ A scathing look for Abigail. ‘Can you be trusted to mix the icing while I visit my store cupboard?’
‘I dare say it wouldn’t be too taxing. Would you like to help me, Miss Rosie?’
‘Can Belle help too?’ came the reply.
‘’Course!’ Abigail smiled fondly. ‘It’s good that you look after your cousin.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, it just is, that’s all. Get yourselves a couple o’ spoons – not the ones you’ve just licked, thank you very much.’ Abigail emptied some icing sugar into a bowl.
‘May I do that?’ asked Nick.
‘No, ’cause you’ll get it all over the floor – oh, botheration!’ A bell jangled on the rail. Abigail began to swap her apron for an ‘upstairs’ one. ‘Now, you three don’t touch owt while I come back. You hear?’
‘I’ll stand guard,’ promised Nick, the moment she had disappeared licking his finger and dipping it into the icing sugar. Rosie was about to do the same. Nick plucked the finger from his mouth with a pop. ‘Hands off!’
‘You’re mean – isn’t he, Belle?’ Rosie leaned sulkily on her elbows and watched him dib in again. ‘We shall tell.’
‘Tell-tale-tit.’ The boy sucked his finger noisily, then grinned. ‘Go on, then. We can always say Belle did it if there’s any trouble.’
Abigail bustled up the stone steps, then across the hall to the drawing room. It was Erin who had rung. Her physical health was much improved but there was about her a constant state of edginess. When the maid entered she spun round anxiously.
‘Is my daughter with you, Abigail?’
‘Yes, Mrs Teale, you know she is.’
‘If I knew I wouldn’t be asking!’ At the look of shock on the maid’s face Erin was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, Abigail, I was just worried when I couldn’t find her, that’s all.’
‘But you were here when I took Miss Belle down to the kitchen wi’ the others, ma’am,’ Abigail reminded her.
‘I know, but I thought ye might’ve got fed up with her and sent her back upstairs.’ She worried her finger ends.
‘I wouldn’t’ve done that, ma’am. Anyway, how would she get upstairs by herself?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ sighed Erin, moving her twitching fingers to her temple. ‘Just because she can’t walk doesn’t mean to say she isn’t mobile. You will watch her carefully, won’t ye?’
‘O’course, Mrs Teale. I’ll give her the same attention I give the others.’
‘No! Ye must give her extra attention, Abigail. She’s so adventurous. She has only to put her fingers on the hot oven…’ Erin’s fingers went to her mouth. It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Honestly, there’s no need to worry, Mrs Teale…’
‘Who’re you to tell me I needn’t worry?’
Abigail accepted the rebuke. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to be impertinent… but Miss Belle is quite safe wi’ me, I promise.’
The sharp expression remained. ‘Then who’s with her now? Ye’ve not left her on her own?’
She’s going off her head, thought Abigail, but not without sympathy. Miss Erin hadn’t had a great deal of happiness out of life. ‘She’s safe, ma’am. Cook’s with her.’ Erin let out the breath she had been holding. ‘Oh.’
‘Did you want anything else, Mrs Teale?’
‘What?’ Erin felt as if she were not involved in this conversation, but hearing it through a thick curtain. Her feet seemed two inches above the ground. She sat down before she fell. There had been a lot of these feelings lately. She had tried to keep them to herself but she knew by the way people stared at her – like the maid was staring now – that she had not succeeded.
‘You rang, Mrs Teale, was it for anything in particular?’
Erin tried to chase the muzziness from her brain. ‘No, no, I only wanted to make sure Belle was all right. Thank you, Abigail.’ When the maid left she slipped back into her forlorn trance.
‘Oh, Jesus!’ exclaimed Abigail on entering the kitchen, empty save for Cook. ‘Where the bloody hell are they?’
‘D’you have to use such language, girl?’ Mrs Howgego added another plate of pastries to the table of birthday goodies. ‘You’ll notice I’ve iced the cake by the way – seeing as how you sloped off.’
‘I didn’t slope off. I got rung for. Where are they?’
‘Miss Fancydrawers came down to fetch ’em.’ She referred to the governess.
‘What, all on ’em?’
‘Just Rosie an’ Nick. T’other one’s over there.’ She nodded to a far corner where Belle was investigating the contents of a bread bin.
Abigail clutched her chest. ‘Oh, thank God! I thought summat had happened to her an’ me just tellin’ her mother she’s as safe as houses.’ She went to pick Belle up. ‘How on earth did she get that heavy lid off by herself?’ She stroked the cow-lick of hair from the child’s forehead.
‘If there’s food inside that one’ll find it,’ opined Cook, tutting as Belle waded through a half-loaf.
‘Well, what did you let her do it for?’ Abigail took the loaf from the child.
‘What a cheek! I can’t be expected to watch her every second, I have my work to do. Oh, cut her a slice off where she’s had her teeth in!’ she exclaimed as Belle began to wail. ‘I can’t abide all that row. She’s never happy but that she’s got summat in her mouth. It’s a wonder she isn’t like a house end. I don’t know where she puts it all. I shall have to have a discreet word with the mistress about havin’ her wormed.’
Abigail repositioned Belle at the table to eat the bread, leaning on the still floury surface to watch her. ‘I wonder what she makes of all us lot, Mrs Howgego.’
‘Not much, judging from her expression,’ decided Cook. ‘And haven’t you any work to do?’
The maid set her mouth. ‘Aye, I suppose I’d best go lay table for t’party.’
‘Well, I trust you’re taking that with you.’ Cook flapped a hand at Belle. ‘Left to her own devices down here she’d work her way through t’larder before teatime.’
* * *
At four o’clock Miss Piggott – ‘Piggy’ to her charges – brought Rosanna and Nicholas
to the drawing room. The birthday guest of honour was already there with her mother, grandparents and great-grandmother, playing with the building bricks Erin had bought her. Thomasin asked if the governess would care to stay for some cake.
‘Oh, yes, Piggy, do!’ Rosanna in her excitable fashion ran to the woman and seized her hand, hauling her to a chair.
‘I’m sorry, Rosanna, but I have someone to meet this afternoon. Your grandmama has kindly given me time off.’ Rosanna whined in protest.
‘Rosanna, if Miss Piggott has declined I think we should accept her decision,’ said Hannah, sitting in the most comfortable chair like a shrivelled, moth-eaten crow. ‘After all, this is supposed to be a family gathering.’
‘But Piggy is family, aren’t you?’ objected Rosanna.
‘Miss Piggott is an employee of the family, Rosanna – and kindly desist from your acrobatics and sit down like a young lady.’
The governess lost her smile and levelled her voice at Thomasin. ‘If that will be all, Mrs Feeney, I should like to keep my appointment.’
‘I trust you are not going to meet a young man,’ cut in Hannah.
‘Thank you, Miss Piggott.’ Thomasin watched the gliding exit of the governess before scolding Hannah. ‘Really, Mother, I think you might show a little more sensitivity. It was quite plain you hurt Miss Piggott’s feelings.’
‘I can’t imagine why. I only asked what you should have done. You don’t want her bringing her followers to the house, do you?’
Patrick, helping Belle to build her bricks, changed the subject. ‘Liam should be here by now. I wonder if Father Gilchrist has found something for him to do.’
‘We’ll wait on him awhile,’ said his wife. ‘There’s nothing to go cold. Well now, Rosanna…’ She twisted her body in the chair, searching the room. ‘Rosanna? Where has that child got to now? She’s always disappearing.’
‘It’s her tinker blood,’ announced Hannah to the sound of condemnation.
‘Mother, would you kindly keep those sort of opinions to yourself.’ Thomasin noticed that the french windows were open, the lace curtains billowing gently. Rising, she went over to them and shouted into the garden. ‘Rosanna? Come here at once!’ The child appeared as if from thin air. Thomasin caught her hand and led her back inside. ‘I do wish you could sit still for five minutes. Now, come and tell us what you’ve been learning today.’ She released the miscreant and settled herself once more.
Rosanna spoke from Patrick’s lap where she always took refuge after being rebuked. ‘Piggy’s been teaching us our tables.’
‘Five sixes!’ Patrick threw at her instantly, then put a hand down to stroke Belle’s head as she ran exploratory fingers up his trouser leg.
After some calculation on her fingers Rosanna came up with, ‘Thirty!’
‘Very good,’ praised her grandfather. ‘But that was an easy one. Can ye tell me this: if I have twenty-six sheep an’ one dies, how many have I?’
‘Easy – twenty-five,’ cried Rosanna.
‘Nineteen,’ contributed Nick who had taken Patrick’s place with Belle on the mat.
‘Ah, ye can’t catch that one out, he’s heard it before! Tell your sister, Nick.’
Nick sighed as Belle knocked down the house of bricks he had just spent ten minutes constructing. ‘Grandad’s trying to trick you. He didn’t say twenty-six sheep, it just sounded like it. He really said twenty sick sheep.’
‘Cheat!’ Rosanna raised her hand to her grandfather who laughed.
‘There’s always some old villain who’ll try to cod ye, Rosie – beware.’ He cocked an ear. ‘Ah, there’s the front door – it must be Father Kelly.’
Heads turned as the inner door opened. After a second’s puzzlement, ‘Daddy!’ screeched Rosanna and hurled herself from Patrick’s knee at the red-haired man in the doorway.
Swiftly, the man passed his hat to the maid and swung the child up in a froth of petticoats and lace-trimmed drawers. ‘Oh, my wee Rosie! You almost didn’t recognise me, did you?’ He hugged her and she squealed in delight. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you so – and you too, Nick lad.’ Sonny put Rosanna down to seize his less-exuberant son. ‘How’ve you been? My, how big you’ve grown! I can barely lift you.’ The boy was lowered to the carpet where he returned Sonny’s kiss.
‘I’m glad you’re back, Father. Did you bring us a present?’
‘Well, that’s a fine welcome,’ said Sonny, arms akimbo. ‘I’ve been away months and all you can ask is have I brought you a present!’ He had been back to France to carry out work commissioned on his first trip – he had such a busy schedule that he had only just got around to it. Nick hung his head and said he was sorry. Sonny cuffed him tenderly. ‘My trunk’s in the hall.’ He took a key from his pocket. ‘D’you think you can open it?’ Nick’s eyes lit up and he reached for the key. ‘Don’t chuck everything all over the place!’ Sonny shouted as the boy and his sister sped from the room. ‘Yours is the one in the green box! Hello, Father.’ He stepped forward to grasp Patrick by the hand, pumping it warmly. ‘Mother, what a lovely gown!’ Sonny always made a point of noticing things like this.
Thomasin returned his embrace, then held back to study him. ‘Well, I wish I could say how lovely you look, but I never have been very adept at lying – talk about gaunt! Painting isn’t a substitute for meals, you know… still, we’ll soon get you fattened up again.’
Sonny laughed and moved to Hannah’s chair. ‘And how’s Grandmother been in my absence? Enjoying good health, I trust?’
‘Oh, much the same as you left me, dear.’ Hannah accepted his more restrained peck on the furry cheek. ‘My legs grow worse by the hour. It is all I can do to drag myself from my bed on a morning.’ Despite Hannah’s secret enjoyment of her infirmity this was not an exaggeration; her legs were extremely crippled and the days when she chose to remain in bed were at risk of outnumbering those which saw her vertical.
Sonny moved along to hug his sister, trying to cover his shock at the change in her with a compliment. ‘That dress is very becoming, if I may say so.’ Less a compliment, more a white lie; the mourning gown drained her complexion of any smudge of colour she might have had. Holding both her hands he whispered sincerely, ‘I was really sorry to hear about Sam. I thought he was a smashing chap. I’ll miss him.’ At her grateful nod he added, ‘Judging from the date on Mother’s letter it didn’t reach me till after the funeral, otherwise I would’ve been there, naturally… I hope you understand.’ He would hate his sister to think it was because he would rather be painting.
She pressed her cheek to his, nodding silently. Then, after thanking him for his letter of condolence, said, ‘I wasn’t there either.’ Sam looked at his mother over Erin’s shoulder and, catching the slight movement of her head, exclaimed more cheerfully, ‘Why, who’s this ravishing person?’ Moving across to where Belle sat in her frog-like posture on the carpet he hunkered to inspect her. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, madam.’
Patrick took up the pretence, coming to stand near him. ‘Would ye believe that this is your niece, Belle?’
‘It never is! This big girl can’t possibly be that little scrap of a thing I saw last time I was here. Goodness me, I do swear it is!’ He held out his hands. ‘Aren’t you going to greet your Uncle Sonny then?’ The child beheld him with round eyes, lips slightly apart. ‘Come on, I don’t frighten a big girl like you, do I?’ He picked her up and spoke in a kind, quiet voice as he straightened her skirts over the useless legs. ‘Now then, how’s that? Don’t be shy. Listen, my eyes might have been deceiving me but I could swear I saw a birthday cake on a trolley out in the hall. That couldn’t be yours by any chance, could it?’
‘It is,’ Patrick answered. ‘Our Belle is three years old today.’
‘Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph!’ declared Sonny, still referring himself to Belle, his eyebrows rising to meet his violent splash of hair. ‘Well now, I wonder if there might be a present in my bag for my grown-up niece. Would you like to go a
nd see? Come now, you’re not too shy to tell me if you want a present, are you?’
‘I’m sure she’d tell you if she’d learnt the words,’ provided his father softly.
‘No different then?’ came his son’s gentle query.
Pat shook his head, then said optimistically, ‘But sure, she’s only three, there’s plenty of time.’ Sonny agreed in bright manner.
Just then the door opened and Abigail admitted Father Kelly. ‘God save all here!’
‘Liam, whatever have you been doing with yourself?’ demanded Thomasin, pointing at the stick that supported his stooped figure. She watched him limp to the nearest chair and flop into it.
‘Oh, saints deliver us that’s a relief! Tommy, ye may well ask. My poor old leg’s swollen up like a balloon. I’d ask ye to take a look but there’s ladies present.’ He smiled a greeting at Erin and Hannah.
She made her face stern. ‘You’d best go out and come in again.’
‘Sure I was only codding ye. I wouldn’t dream of exposing ye to such a gruesome sight.’
‘The leg,’ said Patrick. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing that I know of. I just woke up this way. If I didn’t know better I’d say it was one o’ Father Gilchrist’s ruses to stop me coming out an’ enjoying meself. God, that man gets worse. D’ye know I had to sneak out the back door to get here. Sorry if I’m a bit la… why, Sonny!’ He tried to rise but Sonny, still holding Belle, motioned him to stay in his seat, coming over to shake his hand.
‘I wondered when you’d notice.’ His fingers slipped around the priest’s shrunken hand.
‘Ah well, I spotted the red-haired thing in the corner but I thought it was just another o’ your mother’s newfangled ornaments. How are ye, boy? An’ how long have ye been here?’
Sonny released his hand and looked at the clock. ‘About five minutes.’
‘God, you’re looking great, isn’t he, Pat? Ah, sure ye get more like your mother every day.’ He waved at the child in the other’s arms. ‘Well, I tell ye, ye couldn’t’ve chosen a more auspicious time to make your return, could he, Belle? We hope ye’ve brought us a good present after being absent so long.’
Erin’s Child Page 15