‘Was it what they call an arranged marriage, then?’ Kitty put in.
‘I expect so. Master Henry was wild and there were one or two scandals . . .’ She stopped suddenly, cleared her throat and hurried on, ‘Anyway, they were married and came to live here too. Us servants were run off our feet in them days. It was like having two households to look after.’
‘Did the old master and mistress only have the one son, then? Mr Henry?’
‘No. I was told there’d been two other little boys but they’d died in childhood, always sickly little things they were, so I understand. But that was all before I came to work here.’
Kitty was silent, wondering if poor Master Edward suffered from similar delicate health to his long-dead uncles. She shuddered. She liked Master Edward, she didn’t want anything to happen to him.
‘It’s funny, ain’t it?’ Mrs Grundy was saying. ‘I remember the old boy dying. He was only ill for a little while and none of us even realized he was that bad. He never complained and always thanked us so politely when we waited on him and then, suddenly, we heard one morning he’d just died in his sleep.’ Mrs Grundy shook her head. ‘Just like that. Eh, but he were a nice old boy.’
‘And when did the old lady die, then?’
‘Only about five years ago. And that were very different, had us running after her from morning till night and then her bell would go in the middle of the night an’ all. They hired a trained nurse, well, several actually, ’cos none of ’em stayed long.’
Kitty laughed. ‘Sounds very much as if Miss Miriam takes after her.’
‘Oh she does, believe you me, she does. She had a fine temper, did old Mrs Franklin. Her son’s got it and so has her granddaughter.’ The cook looked sharply at Kitty. ‘How are you getting on with her then? Are you managing?’
Kitty chuckled. ‘Oh yes, I can handle Miss Miriam. I stand up to her and though she threatens to sack me and all sorts, I think underneath all that, she actually respects me for it.’
Mrs Grundy sniffed and began to lever herself up. ‘Well, I’d best be getting on if they’re to get any dinner tonight. Now, where’s that young Milly got to? Drat the girl. She’s not a patch on you, Kitty, even though she’s your sister, so if Miss Miriam does ever give you the push, you can come back to me kitchen in a flash.’
Touched by the woman’s brusque compliment, Kitty planted a swift kiss on her cheek. ‘Ta, Mrs G, but now I’ve gone up in the world . . .’
‘Now then,’ the pudgy fingers wagged in her face. ‘Don’t you go getting ideas above your station, me girl. Else it’ll all end in tears.’
Kitty gave her a swift hug and skipped lightly across the flagstone floor to the door leading upstairs. ‘Fat chance while I work here, eh Mrs G.?’
‘Why, you cheeky young . . .’ the cook began, but Kitty was gone, running up the stairs. Faintly behind her she heard Mrs Grundy’s laughter and Kitty smiled to herself. One day, she promised herself, I’ll find out just what the master’s ‘scandals’ were in his misspent youth.
Fifteen
‘Kitty? Kitty – is that you?
She groaned aloud as Edward’s voice came thinly through the closed door. Sighing, she set down the dustpan and brush she was carrying and opened his door. Her glance went immediately towards the bed but, to her surprise, it was empty. The covers were thrown back carelessly and the sheets rumpled.
Her gaze swivelled and she saw him sitting near the window overlooking the back garden. She clapped her hands in delight. ‘Oh Master Edward, you’re up – and dressed too. I am glad.’
The light from the window was behind him as he looked towards her, but as she drew closer to him, she saw that a faint flush coloured his face. He patted the seat beside him. ‘Come and sit down.’
‘I can’t, Master Edward. I’ve work to do and . . .’
‘Please? Just for a moment. And it’s Teddy. Remember?’
She smiled weakly and sat on the edge of the seat, darting anxious glances towards the door. Since their return to the Manor House, Kitty had waited in trepidation for either Mrs Grundy or, worse, Mrs Franklin to reprimand her for her impudent behaviour while a guest at the Hall.
Not for one moment did she regret standing up to the odious housekeeper, but she did not want to lose her position as lady’s maid and worse still, she did not want to be sent away from the Manor while Jack Thorndyke continued to return every night to the loft above the stables.
She felt Edward’s gaze upon her and she turned to look into his pale face.
‘I – I missed you,’ he stammered.
Now she smiled broadly at him, genuinely delighted to see him out of bed. ‘How’ve you been?’
‘Better,’ his smile widened. ‘I had to be up by the time you came home, didn’t I? I promised.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. And tomorrow – downstairs, eh?’
His face clouded. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
‘Do try,’ she urged him. ‘Your mother would be so pleased.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘My mother would be.’
Had she imagined it, or had he put a slight accent on the word ‘mother’?
‘And Miss Miriam,’ she tried to encourage him.
His face brightened again. ‘She’s come home too, then?’
When Kitty nodded, he said, ‘Well, in that case, I might try. In fact, yes, I’ll come down to dinner tonight.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Kitty said, standing up. ‘Now, I really must get on, else I’ll get the sack.’
She gave a start of surprise as his bony hand, white and slightly clammy to the touch, reached out suddenly and grabbed her rough, calloused fingers. They were the clean, soft hands of an invalid, not grubby like the hands of her active, healthy brothers. ‘Oh Kitty,’ he said softly, his blue eyes looking up into her face. ‘I would never let them do that to you, not – not if I could stop it.’
Touched by his obvious feeling for her well-being, Kitty patted his hand reassuringly. ‘Don’t you worry. They’d have to throw me out bodily, and kicking and screamin’ at that.’
Now the boy laughed and suddenly there was a flash of what a normal, healthy boy of fourteen should look like. ‘Oh Kitty, you are wonderful.’
Suddenly, she saw once more, as she had on the night of the harvest supper, the young man that Edward Franklin would one day be. As she left his room, Kitty was thoughtful. Her recent talk with Miss Miriam about love and how it should feel, and the realization of her own growing passion for Jack Thorndyke despite all the dire warnings, had suddenly made her aware of something that perhaps she should have seen before. Was Master Edward more than a little in love with her?
She sighed and picked up the dustpan and brush she had left outside his door. She hoped profoundly that it was nothing more than a boyish crush, for she felt deeply sorry for the delicate boy and she would not want him to be hurt.
After all, she was only a maid within the household and he, one day, would be master of the Manor House.
‘What do I have to do exactly?’ Kitty demanded, her arms folded across her breasts. ‘I’ve never waited at table before. I don’t know where to start.’
Mrs Grundy shrugged her plump shoulders. ‘You’ll have to try, Kitty, because Sarah’s got this dreadful cold and if she sniffles and sneezes around the master, he’ll likely fly into one of his tempers.’
‘I don’t mind helping her with the cleaning, you know I don’t. But I don’t want to have to serve them. Can’t I just plonk the dishes down and tell ’em to help theirsens?’
Mrs Grundy laughed till her chins wobbled. ‘You could, love, but you’d likely be out of a job by the morning.’
Kitty grinned back. ‘Well, I’ll do me best. Now, which way did you say? Serve from the left and clear from the right?’
Mrs Grundy’s brow creased. ‘I reckon so. Or is it t’other road round? I never can remember.’
‘Oh, you’re a big help, Mrs G.’
‘Don’t you worry. The mast
er’ll soon tell you if you get it wrong.’
Kitty pulled a face at her. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’ But she went through to the dining room to view the table that Sarah had laid before taking herself off to bed to nurse a streaming cold.
‘She spends more time up in that bed of hers than she spends out of it.’ It seemed to the healthy Kitty that the housemaid, Sarah, was always going down with one ailment or another. But then, more charitably, she thought, maybe the girl can’t help it. Maybe she’s like poor Master Edward and catches anything going. At the thought of him, Kitty muttered, ‘Maybe it’s just as well it’ll be me in the dining room tonight when he comes down for dinner, ’cos if he catches Sarah’s cold, he’ll be back in bed again before he’s hardly out of it.’
Biting her tongue between her teeth in concentration, Kitty carried the huge tray bearing the roast leg of lamb from the kitchen into the dining room. The family were all seated around the long table.
At one end, his bushy eyebrows drawn together in a frown, sat Mr Franklin. As she laid the dish before him, he was thumping his fist on the table making the cutlery bounce upon the white cloth. ‘High time the Government did something to stop this suffragette nonsense. I was reading in the paper this morning that some foolish woman had chained herself to the railings outside Number Ten. Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous? Women should know their place.’
‘And where is that, Father?’ Miriam leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. ‘Sitting on a cushion and sewing a fine seam, I presume? Or scrubbing floors, like poor Kitty here and her like.’
‘Eh?’ The bushy eyebrows came even more closely together and the piercing eyes were suddenly near to Kitty as she leaned across him to set down the dish. She stood up quickly and stepped backwards.
‘I thought I told you that girl is not allowed anywhere near me?’
Serenely, Mrs Franklin smiled. ‘Kitty is helping out while Sarah is indisposed. The housemaid has a most dreadful cold.’ She paused as if with deliberate emphasis. ‘I’m sure you would not like her to be serving your meal tonight.’
Mr Franklin’s only reply was a grunt as he picked up the carving knife and fork and began to slice the joint.
Standing at his elbow, waiting to pass the plates round as he served each member of the family, Kitty thought, he really is a handsome man for his age. Mr Franklin still had a good head of hair, dark chestnut and the flecks of white at the temples served only to give him an air of distinction. The thick moustache that drooped down at either corner hid his mouth, but the mirror of his moods was in his green flecked eyes. His daughter had obviously inherited his volatile temperament and his colouring too, whereas their son resembled his mother.
Mrs Franklin’s low voice came now from the far end of the table. ‘Only a little for Teddy, Henry my dear. His appetite is not yet quite normal.’ And Kitty saw her mistress bestow a gentle, understanding look upon Edward that was like a caress.
Mr Franklin gave a snort of derision. ‘Get some good red meat into you, boy. You’ll never amount to anything if you pick at your food like a woman.’
‘Yes – Father,’ he said meekly and, to Kitty’s disappointment, she could already hear the tell-tale wheeze of breathlessness as he spoke.
As she laid the plate of meat before him and picked up the vegetable dish to serve him, Kitty bent low and whispered, ‘Tell me how much you can eat, Master Edward.’
Almost before the words had left her lips, a bellow of rage came from Mr Franklin and close by her, she felt Edward stiffen. ‘Speak when you’re spoken to, girl, and not before.’ Down the length of the table between them, the master glowered at his wife. ‘Don’t you teach your servants how to behave, Amelia? Give him plenty of greens, girl. They’re good for you, boy.’
Inwardly, Kitty seethed with anger as the colour flooded up the boy’s neck and suffused his face. She could say nothing, but from the opposite side of the table came a girlish laugh. ‘Stop bullying him, Father,’ Miriam said. ‘Take no notice of him, Teddy. You eat just what you can and leave the rest.’
Mr Franklin’s fist thumped the table. ‘I will not have insolence, girl.’ It seemed, Kitty thought, that the master called no one, except his wife, by their proper name. Out of the corner of her eye as she continued to serve the vegetables, Kitty saw Miriam calmly return her father’s glare.
‘Stop shouting, Father. It makes poor Teddy worse.’
‘Why, you little . . .’ he thundered, and then suddenly he threw back his head and laughed, a great bellow of sound gusting down the table. ‘That’s my daughter. What a pity you weren’t born the son of the family.’ His laughter died as he looked towards his wife. ‘A great pity. Don’t you think so?’ There was an awkward pause as he added, his tone heavy with sarcasm, ‘My dear?’
‘I wish I had been born a boy,’ Miriam retorted. Kitty almost gasped aloud and glanced up. How could she be so cruel to her brother? But then she saw Miriam give a huge wink towards Edward and knew immediately that the girl was not, for once, being selfish. Indeed, she was deliberately drawing her father’s attention back to herself and away from him. Kitty shook her head slightly, thinking Miriam really is extraordinary. Selfish, wilful and demanding one moment, the next, generous and warmhearted towards her younger, more fragile brother. When she saw actions like the one she had just witnessed, Kitty found it impossible to bear a grudge against Miriam for long.
‘Then,’ Miriam was saying with deliberate provocativeness, ‘I could have the vote. As it is, I shall have to wait until we’ve won it for ourselves.’
‘Never! Women will never have the vote.’
As she left the dining room, Kitty heard the thump of the master’s fist once more on the table. Back in the kitchen, she set the silver salver on the table with a clatter. ‘By heck, Mrs G, you might ’ave warned me ’ow they carry on in there.’
‘Eh?’ Mrs Grundy was only half paying attention to what Kitty was saying. She was busy turning out a steamed pudding and ensuring that the custard did not go lumpy. ‘What are you on about, Kitty?’ she said, bustling between the range and the table.
‘You can cut the air with a knife in there. The master looks as if he’s had a mite too much wine already, ’cos his nose is all red. And he was going on at poor Te— Master Edward.’ She corrected herself just in time. ‘Then Miss Miriam pipes up and I thought she was really in for it. But suddenly, the master burst out laughing.’ She shook her head, wondering at it all. ‘By heck,’ she said again, ‘the things I missed by bein’ only a kitchen maid.’
‘Aye, and there’s summat else you’ll have to learn now you’re an “upstairs maid”. You don’t ever talk about the master, or the mistress, or any of the family for that matter, outside these four walls. You hear me?’
Kitty stared at her. ‘Course I wouldn’t, Mrs Grundy. You should know me better than that. After all,’ she added with an impish grin, ‘I’m Betsy Clegg’s daughter, ain’t I? Me mother’s drilled me about bein’ in service for as long as I can remember.’
As Kitty glanced across at the cook, she saw a strange, reflective look cross Mrs Grundy’s face. ‘Aye,’ the older woman murmured, more to herself than to the girl, ‘you’re her daughter right enough . . .’ She turned away abruptly but, once more, there seemed to be words that she had left unsaid.
Kitty shrugged and began to prepare to take the second course through to the dining room the moment the bell rang. She glanced just once at the white face of the kitchen clock high on the wall above the range. In another hour or so, when Mrs Grundy put her feet on the fender and dozed in the chair before the fire that burnt in the range winter and summer, and Milly had been sent up to her bed, she might be able to sneak out of the back door to meet Jack. Oh Jack, Jack. He had to be waiting for her. He just had to be there.
At once, all thoughts of the strange tensions between the members of the Franklin family were swept from her mind.
Sixteen
His kisse
s were becoming urgent, his fingers pulling at the buttons on the front of her dress, his weight on top of her.
‘No, Jack, no. Not like this . . .’ Kitty pushed at him, but beneath his bulk her strength was futile.
‘You want it, ya know ya do,’ he breathed against her hair, his voice husky. ‘Why do you come out here night after night to meet me, if it’s not for this, eh?’
Through the darkness, Kitty stared up at him. His face was only inches from her but even so, she could not see his features, could not read his expression. But she could hear the growing anger in his voice, the anger of a man’s frustration.
‘I love you, Jack Thorndyke. That’s why I come to see you. Not ’cos I want a quick roll in the hay.’ She waited, but the words she longed to hear him say did not come. In a small voice that quavered slightly, she added, ‘You don’t love me though, do you, Jack?’
His arms tightened around her. ‘Course I do. You know I do.’ But she knew that she had dragged the half-admission from him. The declaration had not come from his lips voluntarily and with true feeling.
She pushed at him again and he rolled away from her on to his back. Kitty sat up. ‘You’ll think I’m easy, if I – let you.’
‘Course I wouldn’t.’ There was a pause before his deep voice came through the darkness to her. ‘If you really loved me, Kitty, you’d say yes. You’d let me show you how I really love you.’
Angrily she turned on him. ‘That’s what me mam always warned me men say to get what they want. She told me I should get a ring on me finger first.’
His loud laughter echoed through the night air, so loud that she was suddenly afraid someone would hear. ‘Your mam?’ His voice was scathing with sarcasm. ‘Aye an’ your mam should know, if anybody does, if what I’ve heard is true.’ He laughed again.
Chaff upon the Wind Page 10