A Change of Fortune

by Beryl Matthews

  ‘It is most unlikely that I can find you a place that quickly. Have you tried applying for a job in a factory, or a shop? That’s where most of the young girls want to go these days.’

  Jenny shook her head, shoulders drooping in disappointment. ‘I must find employment with accommodation provided.’ Her attempt at a cockney accent had all but disappeared.

  The woman sat back, looking puzzled. ‘Where have you been working?’

  ‘I’ve been with Mrs Patterson-Hay.’ It was the first name that came into her head.

  ‘I don’t think I know the household.’ Mrs Dearing was obviously suspicious now.

  ‘You wouldn’t.’ Jenny’s mind was working like a steam train. ‘She lives in Kent. They’re shutting up the house and moving to Scotland.’

  ‘I see. Do you have any references?’

  ‘The mistress isn’t there. She didn’t give us none before she left. The servants are packing up the house.’

  ‘No references? Most irregular. I certainly wouldn’t send anyone there for a job.’ Mrs Dearing stood up, filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil.

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want to; it was very hard work.’ Jenny was getting into the swing of this now. ‘Not that I’m afraid of hard work; I’ll do anything.’

  Mrs Dearing glanced back at her as she made the tea. ‘Tell me what this is all about. You are clearly well educated and trying to hide it.’

  Oh, help! As soon as she’d become anxious, the pretence had slipped. This was going to take a lot of explaining. Then an idea shot into her head. ‘My dad was a great one for reading and he tried to bring me up properly. But he’s dead now.’

  ‘Recently?’ She handed Jenny a cup of tea.

  ‘Yes.’ At least that was the truth.

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘She’s dead too, and after tomorrow I won’t have a job no more.’ Don’t ask me any more questions, she pleaded silently. I’m running out of lies!

  ‘I understand your need for a job, then. What is your name and home address?’

  ‘Jenny Baker.’ She had remembered that, thank goodness. Then she gave Mrs Dearing what she hoped was a forlorn, pleading look, which wasn’t too difficult because that was just how she felt. ‘I lived in Lambeth, but with Mum and Dad dead that ain’t my home no more. When I leave Mrs Patterson-Hay, I won’t have nowhere to go.’

  The agency owner stirred her tea, lost in thought, leaving Jenny to struggle with doubt. If she couldn’t convince this woman that she was suitable as a servant, what chance did she have? Tears burnt the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over. She blew her nose on a delicate handkerchief, tucking it quickly out of sight before it was seen, not sure if this was the kind of thing a servant would own.

  ‘Drink your tea.’ Mrs Dearing’s voice was gentle. ‘You are obviously in desperate trouble, so I’ll see what I can do for you. The lack of references might not be a barrier these days. Servants are hard to come by, and families make allowances in order to keep them. Since the war ended not many girls want to go into service, and most now prefer the freedom of the factory or shop.’

  Jenny sipped her tea, watching Mrs Dearing going through the files. That sounded hopeful for her. After about five minutes the woman sat down again, studying a letter, then she looked up.

  ‘The only thing I’ve got is for an under housemaid with the Stannard household. They need someone right away.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Jenny put her cup down and sat forward eagerly.

  ‘You’ll have to buy your own uniform. Can you afford to do that?’

  Jenny was stunned by that piece of information. Just when she thought things were going to work out, this came up. ‘How much?’

  ‘Four pounds.’

  That wasn’t going to leave her much. Jenny chewed her lip in worry. Thank goodness Fred and Glad had made the pawnbroker give her five pounds. She smiled. ‘I can manage that.’

  ‘Good. The lack of references is not in your favour, but I’ll write a letter to Mrs Stannard explaining your situation. She might agree to take you on for a trial period to see how you work out.’

  ‘I’ll work hard. I won’t let you down, Mrs Dearing.’ She sounded too eager, even to her own ears.

  ‘You’d better go immediately in case there are other applicants.’ She wrote the letter, sealed it in an envelope, then put the address on the front. ‘It’s in Bruton Street, Mayfair. Can you find your way there?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Dearing.’ Jenny took the envelope and smiled again, but in relief this time. Perhaps things were going to work out after all.

  The house in Mayfair was really elegant. It had three floors and a basement. A beautiful tiled path led up to a sparkling clean step and solid wooden door, with a brass letterbox and doorknocker polished to such a shine you could see your face in it. But Jenny knew servants didn’t go in the front, so she hurried round to the back entrance. After knocking on the door, she waited, head bowed, praying that the place hadn’t been filled already.

  ‘Yes?’

  Her head shot up at the sound of a man’s voice. He was no more than twenty-five, she guessed, and his dark green and gold livery marked him as a footman. ‘I’ve come from Mrs Dearing’s agency about the job of under housemaid.’

  He stepped aside. ‘Come with me.’ He led her through an enormous kitchen, which was lovely and warm after the cold wind outside. She received curious glances, but the cook and her staff were too busy to stop what they were doing. The footman led her along a dark passage and rapped on a door at the end.

  ‘Young kid here about the job, Mrs Douglas.’

  The door opened to reveal a small, comfortable sitting room, and a woman who was not so small. She was wearing a black dress with a chatelaine at her waist from which hung a large bunch of keys and various useful items. She gave Jenny a quick head-to-toe appraisal, then without a word turned and walked back into the room. The footman winked as he pushed Jenny over the threshold before closing the door behind her.

  The housekeeper held her hand out for the letter Jenny was clutching to her as if it were a good-luck talisman. She fought to stop her hand trembling as she handed it over, though it was so difficult. She was shaking from her feet upwards; it wouldn’t take much for her teeth to start chattering. The words Miss Patterson-Hay had drummed into them at the school echoed in her mind: ‘Remain serene and composed at all times. Never show fear or anger.’

  Remain serene! She could feel a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside her. That was impossible. She was so terrified that her legs wouldn’t hold her much longer …

  ‘No references.’

  The housekeeper’s voice made her jump, and with a sense of desperation she gathered her scattered thoughts together. ‘No, Mrs Douglas, but I’m a hard worker.’

  ‘You had better be,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t tolerate slackness in this household.’

  Jenny couldn’t help comparing the Winford housekeeper with this one. She didn’t seem quite so severe, but there was little to choose between them. Were they all like this?

  ‘Come with me. I’ll find out if madam will see you.’

  The housekeeper sailed out of the room, heading for a flight of stairs, drawing Jenny along in her wake. At least she hadn’t been sent away as soon as she’d arrived, so perhaps there was hope. She had to get this job or she didn’t know what she was going to do. If she went to anyone she knew, they would only go straight to her mother. Anything like that was doomed to failure and would bring the wrath of her aunt down on her. She gave an involuntary shudder; that was too awful to think about.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened to another world. There was a long passage, and the walls were covered with delicate gold and pale lemon wallpaper. Portraits and paintings by famous artists lined the long hall. Most of the furniture was the work of famous designers and very expensive. One of the aims of the Templeton School had been to teach them to identify and appreciate things of qual
ity. The floor was highly polished wood with the most beautiful carpet runner she had ever seen, in the same colours as the wallpaper. Add to that breathtaking Venetian chandeliers and you had a house furnished to the highest standard. Her mother would be impressed and very jealous if she could see this.

  The housekeeper stopped outside a door, knocked and waited. As soon as a female voice called to enter, she disappeared inside, leaving Jenny to gaze around her in appreciation.

  It was only a couple of minutes before the door opened again.

  ‘Madam will see you. And watch your manners,’ the housekeeper said, her voice stern.

  The woman sitting by the window with a book open on her lap was around forty-five and beautifully groomed, her blonde hair cut short in the latest bob. Jenny dipped a good curtsy in front of her. Her first emotion was one of profound relief that she had never met the lady at some social function her mother had dragged her to during the school holidays. Though it was doubtful if anyone would recognize the shabby Jenny Baker as being Eugenie Winford. She kept her eyes lowered as Mrs Stannard read the letter.

  Mrs Stannard looked up after a few moments. ‘You are in urgent need of employment?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ She was trying hard not to speak any more than was necessary, knowing how difficult she found it to stick to a working-class accent.

  ‘What do you think, Mrs Douglas? I do prefer to have someone with good references.’

  ‘Mrs Dearing always sends us good staff, madam. And we are in great need of an under housemaid, so perhaps a three-month trial?’

  The mistress turned her attention back to Jenny. ‘We are prepared to take you on and see how you work out. The uniform will cost you four pounds, but for that you will be outfitted with a complete wardrobe of working clothes.’

  Jenny pulled the pound notes out of her pocket and held them out. ‘I’ve got enough for that.’

  Mrs Stannard nodded and glanced at the letter again. ‘Very well, Jenny, give the money to Mrs Douglas.’

  The housekeeper took the money and tucked it in her dress pocket, then caught hold of her arm and ushered her from the room.

  Once back in the kitchen Mrs Douglas called a young girl over. ‘Edna, this is Jenny; she’s to be the new under housemaid. You will be sharing a room with her.’

  The two girls gave each other a hesitant smile. The housekeeper continued speaking, not giving the girls a chance to say anything to one another. ‘You will start at six o’clock tomorrow morning. You had better move in this evening. Be here by ten o’clock and Edna will show you your room.’

  After issuing those crisp instructions, she sailed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t be late.’ Edna smiled. ‘She can be fierce if you don’t do as she says, but if you don’t give her no trouble, then she’s not bad. I hopes you don’t snore.’

  ‘I don’t.’ After sleeping in a dorm with lots of other girls Jenny knew that was true because they’d have soon told her if she did.

  ‘Good. It’ll be nice to ’ave someone to gossip with.’

  Feeling buoyant with hope, Jenny made her way back to her house for the last time. She was stunned, not being able to believe that her crazy scheme had succeeded. She’d actually got a job!

  Now all she had to do this evening was get out of the house without being seen.

  5

  Dinner that evening was agony for Jenny. Her aunt had forced her mother to come to the table, and the only time she showed a spark of interest was when Greaves was talking. It was clear that her mother was not displeased with the prospect of having him as a relative. Jenny was disgusted by the attitude. How shallow her mother’s life must be.

  ‘Have you packed all your belongings, Eugenie?’ he asked.

  She smiled brightly. ‘I’m all ready.’

  ‘Good, good.’

  He looked smug and Jenny swallowed silently, hoping her performance was good enough to convince everyone that the arrangement made her happy. Her mother was nodding in approval.

  ‘It will be for the best, Eugenie. You will have social standing as the wife of a wealthy man.’ A momentary flash of doubt crossed her mother’s face, and then it was gone. ‘I will be only ten minutes away. You can visit – now and again.’

  Jenny couldn’t help but feel pity for her mother, who was once again looking confused. They had never been close, but perhaps she should stay to help her mother through this disaster. That thought was instantly dismissed. She couldn’t stay. She just couldn’t! And really, by the way her mother was acting, she had her doubts if she would even be missed.

  ‘I shall collect you at twelve tomorrow. You will like my house, but it does require a woman’s touch.’ Albert Greaves laughed as if that were a huge joke. ‘At least that school taught you how to manage a large household.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been well trained.’ Her smile was wide as she glanced at each person around the table. She hoped they didn’t look at her eyes, for she was sure that her distaste would be showing in them. She lowered them quickly, just to be on the safe side.

  Greaves leant across and ran a hand over her short hair. ‘You’ll make a splendid wife – when you’re older, of course. And you must let your hair grow again. I like long hair.’

  The laugh he gave made her shiver. There was something not quite right about this man. She watched him drain his glass and hold it out to be refilled. The butler carefully poured until it was full to the rim with red wine. Before walking away, Jessop frowned at Jenny, obviously shocked by what he’d heard. She gave no indication that she was anything but pleased. They would all know by morning that she had run away.

  She fixed her gaze on her mother, then a pain raged through her. She had never been an affectionate mother, but nor had she been unkind – until now. She was prepared to give her daughter to this awful man. That was hard to forgive or understand.

  Jenny’s lip trembled as the enormity of what she was planning swept through her. A secure comfortable life was all she had known. Now that was finished, and she was about to become a servant. It was a terrifying prospect. She bowed her head to concentrate on stirring her coffee until she could force a smile back on to her face. She mustn’t weaken. She was too close to success.

  It was a relief when the meal ended and she could escape to her room. Half an hour later she heard her aunt and Greaves leave. She already had on her coat, and, giving one last, sad glance around her pretty bedroom, picked up her case and crept down the stairs. To her horror Jessop appeared just as she reached the front door. The look she gave him was full of pleading. Don’t give me away!

  He took in her shabby coat and battered suitcase, and then, with a look of utter sadness on his face, opened the door for her, bowing her out. She knew he understood because he’d heard the talk at dinner.

  ‘Good luck, Miss Winford,’ he whispered as he closed the door silently behind her.

  Her mind was in turmoil as she caught the bus to her new life. Was she doing the right thing? Would she fit in as a servant without being discovered? She sat with her small case on her lap, her knuckles white as they gripped the handle.

  She arrived at the Bruton Street house and was taken straight to the housekeeper.

  ‘Just in time,’ Mrs Douglas said, heading for the kitchen.

  The staff obviously had their dinner after serving the upstairs meal. I certainly won’t go hungry, Jenny thought as she saw the quality and quantity of the food they were enjoying.

  The housekeeper then introduced her to everyone. She tried to force their names into her mind. There was the butler, Mr Green, the cook, Mrs Peters, the footman, Ron Stokes, the scullery maid, Milly, and of course Edna Jenks, the housemaid. She was so agitated at that moment that it would have been difficult to remember even her own name – her new name!

  ‘Sit yourself down,’ the cook said.

  Although she’d already dined she hadn’t eaten much, and, as her plate was piled with succulent roast beef and the lightest Yorkshire pudding she’d ever seen
, she realized just how hungry she was. There was laughter and friendly banter around the table, making her relax a little. This seemed like a happy household. However, she must remain alert. No one must guess at her background.

  When they’d finished eating, Edna picked up Jenny’s suitcase. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where we sleep.’

  It was right at the top of the house, under the eaves. The room was small with a sloping ceiling; there were two beds, a cupboard – and it was freezing cold. After the warmth of the kitchen it came as a shock. Edna didn’t seem to notice it, though. On one bed were her uniform and other garments, including underclothes. Quite a lot for four pounds, Jenny thought.

  ‘Pack your things in the cupboard and shove your case under the bed,’ Edna said.

  When that was done they got ready for bed. It was so cold that Jenny gasped as she dived into the icy sheets.

  Her roommate laughed. ‘Bloody perishing, ain’t it? You’ll soon get used to it.’

  As she curled into a tight ball with her teeth chattering, Jenny wasn’t sure about that.

  ‘Cook will start making the Christmas puds and cakes soon. The house will be crammed to the ceiling then.’ Edna chatted happily. ‘All the family will be home, so I’d better warn you. Madam’s got three sons. John’s the eldest at twenty-four. He’s right snooty and won’t lower himself to talk to the likes of us. The next is Luke and he’s twenty. Watch him. He’s always after the girls and don’t care who they are. A servant is fair game to him. The youngest is Matthew. He’s eighteen and a real gent; always got a ready smile for everyone. Don’t be fooled, though; they might all have names from the Holy Book, but they ain’t no angels.’

  ‘What are Mr and Mrs Stannard like?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Not bad. They’re a rich banking family. We don’t see much of them. They leave the running of the household to Mrs Douglas. Don’t get on the wrong side of her or you’ll know it. The last girl was chucked out for being lazy and not doing her cleaning properly.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Jenny shivered even more. This all sounded very frightening.