Chaff upon the Wind

by Margaret Dickinson

  Saturday dawned with a morning mist that heralded a hot day.

  ‘Perfect. Just perfect,’ Kitty said, clapping her hands with glee as she stood at the bedroom window and stretched her arms. Then she leaned forward, seeing over the wall the figure of Jack Thorndyke moving around his engine.

  ‘He’s here already.’

  ‘Mm.’ Milly, still buried beneath the bedclothes, was not interested.

  ‘Jack. He’s in the yard already. Oh, I wish . . .’ She was tempted to throw up the sash window and call to him, but on this day of all days, she dare not. She could not risk spoiling the excitement by inviting trouble from the moment of rising.

  ‘Come on, our Milly, stir yasen. You’ll have Mrs Grundy puffing up them stairs to see where you are if you’re not careful.’

  The girl gave a groan, pushed back the bedclothes and swung her feet to the floor. Seeing that Milly had at least made an effort, Kitty hurried down the stairs. First job of the day was to fetch rainwater from the butt outside the back door and heat it for Mrs Franklin and Miss Miriam to wash in.

  ‘So today’s the day, is it, Kitty?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Kitty could hardly contain her excitement and her fingers were trembling as she laced Mrs Franklin’s corset. Her mistress gave a little laugh. ‘Well, as long as you’ve completed all your tasks, you may be free after luncheon for the rest of the day. I’m sure the other staff won’t mind. They’ll all have time off this evening to come to the Harvest Supper in the big barn.’

  ‘Oh thank you, madam. Thank you very much.’

  Jack wanted her in the yard for three o’clock, he’d said, and that would give her ample time to dress in the lovely shepherdess’s costume still hanging in Miss Miriam’s room. For several days, each time she had opened the heavy door of the mahogany wardrobe, Kitty had fingered the blue and white striped cotton of the underdress and the plain blue of the overdress which bunched up on either side. At the neckline, pretty lace would ruffle around her slender throat and Milly had promised to help dress her curling hair, sweeping it up at the sides to fall in ringlets and curls at the back.

  Miriam was still in bed and when Kitty set the jug of hot water on the washstand and drew back the curtains, she was greeted with a groan from the bed so like Milly’s that she almost laughed aloud.

  ‘Whatever time is it?’

  ‘Eight o’clock, miss. Same as usual and you don’t want to be late for prayers, do you?’

  Every morning, promptly at eight thirty, the family and all the household servants gathered in the dining room for morning prayers after which breakfast was served to the family. ‘You know how the master doesn’t like anyone to be late.’

  The girl gave another grunt, turned over and burrowed her head beneath the covers. Kitty waited, though this morning she was hard-pressed to be as patient as usual. It had become a ritual, acted out every morning, and Kitty had learned quickly that if she stood quietly and said no more, after a minute or two, Miriam would think better of arousing her father’s anger and throw back the bedclothes. Rather like Milly when threatened with the cook’s wrath, Kitty thought.

  As they finished and were both ready to descend the stairs with only a minute to spare, Kitty said, ‘Miss, may I come back after breakfast and take the dress to my room?’ Her hand gestured towards the wardrobe.

  Miriam looked back over her shoulder. ‘Dress? And what dress would that be?’

  She’s teasing me, Kitty thought. She knows very well what dress I mean. But, putting a smile on her mouth, Kitty said, ‘The shepherdess’s dress you said I could wear today to be Harvest Queen.’

  Miriam’s left eyebrow rose. ‘Oh no, Clegg. I don’t think so.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Miriam held up her hand and said, ‘I shall be wearing the dress today, Kitty, for I shall be Queen of the Harvest.’

  Kitty’s mouth fell open in a gasp and she knew that anger and disappointment flooded her face. ‘Jack Thorndyke asked me.’

  ‘ “Jack Thorndyke asked me”,’ Miriam mimicked her and then leaned towards her. ‘But just remember, Clegg, that Jack Thorndyke is employed by my father who would, I am sure, rather see his daughter feted as Harvest Queen than one of his servants.’

  Despite her feisty spirit and her boldness in standing up to Miriam’s tantrums, Kitty knew herself to be defeated this time. Miriam whirled around and left the room as the gong sounded to herald morning prayers, leaving Kitty to follow miserably in her wake.

  Kneeling with the rest of the servants, Kitty put her hands together and closed her eyes with an expression of piety. But inside her head she was repeating, not the words of the Lord’s Prayer as Mr Franklin had bidden them, but . . . Oh please, God, let it rain this afternoon. Let the skies open and everyone get soaked to the skin. I know I’m being wicked, Lord, and very mean, but please, oh please, just let it rain . . .

  The sky remained a clear blue with only tiny puffs of white cloud floating lazily across its wide expanse. The sun shone down, mocking mercilessly, as Kitty watched Jack hold out his hand to help Miriam climb up on to the decorated cart. Her heart twisted with jealousy as she watched her young mistress laughing down into his upturned face.

  She had been gratified – but only briefly – at the surprise on his face when they had appeared in the stackyard. His glance had gone from her, still dressed in her maid’s black dress, white apron and frilled cap, to Miriam standing by her side dressed in the shepherdess’s costume, a garland of flowers entwined in her chestnut waves. Miriam’s green eyes were shining and her lips were parted in a smile of triumph and excitement.

  His glance had rested once more, briefly, upon Kitty and then his shoulders had lifted in a tiny shrug of helplessness as if to say, ‘Sorry, but what can I do?’

  The last vestige of hope in Kitty’s heart died then. She had thought that he might have objected, that he might have insisted that she, Kitty, should still be his Harvest Nell, as he called the Queen, but no, his gaze had gone back to Miriam and now he was holding out his hand to her with a courtly little bow and leading her towards the cart, festooned with ribbons of every colour. The two horses pulling it were bedecked in polished horse-brasses and ribbons too.

  Jack was not in his normal workaday attire either. Although not in his Sunday best, he had shaved and his face was clean and bore no trace of the grime from his smoky engine. In the open neck of his striped shirt he wore a spotted necktie and his black hair glinted in the sunlight. Even the toes of his brown boots, Kitty noticed, were polished.

  Miriam sat on a square of hay in the cart. Jack climbed up beside her and took up the reins. ‘Hold on, miss,’ Kitty heard him say as he flicked the reins and shouted ‘Walk on’ to the horses.

  The rest of the field workers fell in behind the cart with whistles and drums and one man had even brought his accordion. As they paraded from the yard around the side of the house and into the road, they were joined by the wives and children of the workers too. Even Mrs Grundy, Sarah Maybury and Milly had appeared at the side gate to see them go by, but Kitty kept her eyes downcast. She could not bear to see the pity for her in the cook’s eyes.

  At the front door of the Manor, out of the corner of her eye, Kitty saw the mistress and now she dared to take a peep. When she saw first puzzlement and then a frown of displeasure cross Mrs Franklin’s lovely face, the girl felt a slight lifting of her acute disappointment. It was obvious, by the look on her face, that the mistress had not been a party to her daughter’s scheme.

  ‘Kitty?’

  Now it was her turn to be surprised as she responded to the person who had fallen into step at her side.

  ‘Master Edward. Oh, you’re feeling better. How wonderful!’ Even her despondency could not dim the pleasure of seeing the boy not only up and dressed, but well enough to be out of doors and walking beside her to join in the merrymaking.

  ‘I came . . .’ He paused to pull in a deep breath and Kitty realized at once that he was not as well as she had suppose
d. ‘I came – to see – you – as the Harvest Queen.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said flatly. ‘Oh I see.’ She could think of nothing else to say.

  ‘My sister – up to her tricks, eh?’

  ‘Well . . .’ she began and then bit her lip and said no more. Even though the day was spoilt for her, she could still not be disloyal to her young mistress. It was typical of Miriam’s behaviour. As everyone had tried to warn her, she had known what she was taking on when she had begged and pleaded to become Miriam’s maid.

  So now she had better just put up with it.

  Kitty lifted her head and plastered a smile on her face.

  ‘Well, Master Edward, the dress does look a lot better on her than it would have done on me.’

  But Edward did not smile. Instead he said softly, ‘As well, maybe, but not better, Kitty. I’ll not have you say that about yourself. Oh no.’

  The day was not after all entirely spoilt, for as Kitty watched the men cut the final circle of corn, saw Jack bind it into a sheaf and tie on some plaits he’d made earlier in the day – much bigger plaits than those on the tiny corn maiden he’d made for her – all the time Edward was at her side.

  ‘It’s an effigy of Ceres,’ he told her.

  ‘Who’s she, then?’ Kitty wanted to know.

  ‘The Goddess of Fertility. It’s to ensure a good harvest next year. Look, he’s putting it beside Miriam on the cart.’

  Now the whole procession turned again and as the sun sank low in the horizon, they followed the wagon from the field back towards the big barn, singing and dancing and making such a cacophony that Kitty felt sure the whole of Tresford must hear the merrymaking going on at the Manor.

  ‘Are you staying for the Harvest Supper, Master Edward?’

  ‘No, I think I’ll go in now and up to my room. I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘I’ll bring you up a tray later, if you like.’

  ‘No, no, Kitty, you stay and enjoy yourself.’

  She pulled a face and then grinned at him. ‘I’ll still have plenty of time to do that. I’ll bring you something. About nine o’clock all right?’

  He nodded and, as he turned away, she was sure she heard him say, ‘I’ll look forward to it, Kitty.’

  Eleven

  Squares of hay had been set around the sides of the barn and down one side were trestle tables covered with white cloths. Now Kitty ran back and forth between the back door of the Manor and the barn helping Milly to bring all the food from the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve been busy today.’

  ‘Cook’s had me on the run all day, Kitty. I’m dead on me feet.’

  ‘You’ll soon get ya second wind when the music and the dancing starts. You can’t disappoint that young farmhand. What’s his name? Tommy, is it? He’ll be asking you for a dance, I don’t doubt.’

  ‘Oh go on, our Kitty. Don’t tease.’ But the younger girl’s cheeks were faintly pink and there was renewed vigour in her step as she scuttled back to the kitchen for another load.

  At eight o’clock, as all the farm workers and their families began to arrive, everything was ready and Kitty had time to run up to her bedroom and change into her one pretty cotton dress. At least I’m not going to spend all night in my uniform, she told herself, whatever Miss Miriam says.

  Miriam insisted on opening the dancing with Jack. Kitty, standing in the shadows near the door, watched enviously. She should be dressed in the pretty costume and dancing in Jack’s arms, proudly proclaiming to everyone present that she was his girl. He had given her the tiny corn maiden, a replica of the effigy that now stood in pride of place at the end of the barn as a symbol of a good harvest and an offering for a good one next year too. She was his girl, not Miss Miriam. What did she want from him? Kitty asked herself. He was from a different world to hers . . .

  At that moment, her thoughts were interrupted by a movement in the doorway and she shrank back further into the shadows.

  Mr and Mrs Franklin had entered the barn. As they always did, they had come to look in on the festivities. Mr Franklin would say a few words of thanks to all the workers and tell them to enjoy themselves. Lastly, Kitty thought, he would not miss the opportunity of reminding them that he expected to see them all in church the following morning and then he and his wife would leave. No one but Kitty seemed to have noticed their arrival and the music and the dancing continued with Jack and Miriam still whirling in the centre of the throng.

  Mr Franklin’s booming voice came to Kitty. ‘What on earth is the girl thinking of? Did you know about this, Amelia?’

  From the shadows, Kitty saw her mistress shake her head, and then she heard a few snatched words above the noise. ‘It should have been Kitty but . . . took her place . . . Harvest Queen.’

  Mr Franklin’s head swivelled to look down at his wife. ‘The Clegg girl, you mean?’ His voice was louder and Kitty could hear every word he said. ‘Well, so it should have been. I’ll soon put a stop to this.’ And he marched towards the centre of the barn, pushing his way through the jigging couples until he reached his daughter.

  The other dancers became aware of their master and moved quickly aside. In a moment there was only Jack and Miriam left in the centre of the floor. As the music faltered and petered out, Mr Franklin grasped his daughter’s arm and said in his loud voice, ‘That’s enough of this nonsense. You had no right to take the Clegg girl’s place as Harvest Queen.’

  Miriam’s face flamed at being so publicly humiliated and by her own father too. Kitty felt a stab of pity for her. After all, she was only young and wanting a little fun, and she did look so pretty in the shepherdess’s costume. Even Kitty, envious as she was, had to admit the truth of that.

  The master was almost dragging her from the barn, but at the door Miriam twisted herself free of his grasp. For a moment father and daughter stood staring at each other while the girl turned slowly round to face the gathering. Some looked back at her, others lowered their gaze, embarrassed by the scene.

  Miriam took a step forward and, looking around her, smiled sweetly. Lifting her voice, she said, quite calmly, ‘Thank you for allowing me to be your Queen of the Harvest. I’ve had a perfectly lovely day.’ Her bold glance went to Jack Thorndyke. ‘And thank you, Mr Thorndyke, for opening the dancing with me.’ There was a moment’s pause while Kitty saw that their glances met and held. Then Miriam was speaking again, glancing around and graciously gesturing with her hand. ‘I have to go now, but, please, do enjoy the rest of the evening. Good night and once again, thank you.’

  Then she turned and, with her head held high, walked proudly past her startled father without looking either to right or left.

  Kitty found she had been holding her breath without realizing it and now she let it out in a long sigh of utter admiration. The little minx! You had to hand it to her, she thought, shaking her head almost in disbelief. That was the most ‘queenly’ speech Kitty had ever heard. It was just as if Miriam had been addressing her adoring subjects, and the little madam had turned an embarrassing situation cleverly to her advantage. Now it was her father, not her, who had been made to look foolish.

  As the Franklins departed, chatter broke out on all sides and the musicians began to play again. Jack was standing before her, grinning. ‘You’ve got to hand it to her, haven’t you?’ he said without preamble.

  Kitty nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I was just thinking. She always gets her own way, does our Miss Miriam.’

  ‘Is she like that all the time? How on earth do you put up with it?’

  A wry smile touched Kitty’s lips. ‘I suppose it must be all that red hair. She has the temper to match it.’ Then she added, though a little reluctant to admit it, ‘In a funny sort of way, I admire her.’

  He was looking out through the open door at the retreating figures of the Franklin family, until through the darkness they were lost to sight. But still he continued to stare after them. ‘She’s certainly a very beautiful girl.’

  ‘Now listen here, Jack Thorndyke
.’ Kitty reached up and gripped his chin, forcing him to look down at her. ‘Just you keep your eyes this way. Ya’ve no chance there, m’lad, not if you want to carry on working in this district.’

  Jack laughed his loud, rumbling laugh and opened his arms wide to her. ‘I’ve more sense in me head than that, Kitty Clegg. Besides, I’ve enough trouble with you, ain’t I?’ And, putting his arms about her waist, he led her into the dance.

  ‘Oh, whatever time is it?’

  Some time later, Kitty stopped dancing suddenly.

  ‘Eh? Why, what’s the matter? She doesn’t want you running after her tonight, surely?’

  ‘No, not Miss Miriam. Master Edward. I promised I’d take him a tray up about nine, seeing as all the staff have been given the night off.’

  ‘Oh him.’ Jack’s tone was resentful. ‘He didn’t look so sickly to me today, walking all the way to the field and back again. With you.’

  ‘Well, he is. He went up to bed straight after. He was tired.’

  ‘That’s just a ruse to get you up to his bedroom. You want to watch yasen there, Kitty.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Jack. He’s only a boy.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Jack said and the two words were laced with sarcasm. ‘Boys of fourteen are quite capable, y’know, and I’ve heard all sorts of tales about what the young master of the house likes to do to the maids.’

  She pulled away from him. ‘Don’t be disgusting, Jack Thorndyke. Master Edward’s not a bit like that.’

  ‘It’s you that’s the fool, Kitty, if you think that. All men are “like that” and boy or not, young Master Edward will think of himself as a man. Specially where you’re concerned.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ she said again. ‘Not between me an’ him. Besides, how could it be? I’m only a servant.’

  He gripped her shoulders, roughly now. ‘Oh, so you’d like it to be, eh?’

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ Exasperated now, she wrenched herself free. ‘I’m not standing here arguing with you. Ya can please yarsen whether you believe me or not.’