by Dilly Court
‘A fine lady like the countess ought not to toil in the fields like a farm worker,’ Maurice said firmly.
Jane glared at him. ‘Fine lady! Stuff and nonsense. That person is no better than she should be, if you want my opinion.’
‘That’s enough, Jane.’ Maurice turned to Robert with an apologetic smile. ‘My wife is a little upset. I shouldn’t have mentioned our tragic loss. It still causes us much pain.’
Nettie could see that her father was about to say something he might regret, and she stepped in between them. ‘The condesa has a most interesting story, ma’am. I’m sure she would be willing to share it with you, given the chance. As to the rest of us, we would willingly help you in the hop fields. I’ve heard that people flock here from London at this time of the year.’
‘Think of Rufus, my love,’ Maurice said softly. ‘How would he feel if you turned his friend’s family away in their hour of need?’
Jane shrugged. ‘I knew there was more to it. Look at their clothes, Maury. They don’t look like wealthy travellers.’
‘Nettie has been very frank with us, Jane.’ Maurice held his hand out to Robert. ‘As for myself, I would like to commission you to paint a portrait of my dear wife, sir.’
Robert’s mouth worked as if he were a clockwork automaton. ‘I’d be honoured,’ he said after a pause.
‘Are you mad?’ Jane demanded. ‘You’ll end up paying him.’
‘But think how grand you’ll look above the mantelshelf in the drawing room, my pet. You will be immortalised on canvas, and I believe that Mr Carroll is well known in the art world.’
‘Well, I suppose so,’ Jane said grudgingly. ‘They can all stay but they must earn their keep, including the countess. We’re short-handed in the hop garden. They can start immediately.’
‘What!’ Lisette cried, falling back on the sofa in the parlour. ‘They want me, Condesa Talavera, to work in a field?’
‘It’s not too arduous,’ Nettie said valiantly. ‘We’ll help you, and we will be paid for our efforts. Moreover, we’re safe here. This is the last place that Wegg would think of looking for us, and it is a delightful spot. I went for a short stroll after our talk with the Norwoods. It’s a beautiful part of the country.’
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Robert turned to Nettie with an anxious frown. ‘I know I agreed to it when that harpy was haranguing us, but on thinking it over, you’ll be working with the sort of people I wouldn’t want you to associate with,’ he lowered his voice, ‘and gypsies.’
His horrified expression brought a smile to Nettie’s lips. ‘I don’t think the gypsies would be a problem, Pa. If they’re prepared to work, that makes them just the same as us.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Robert said doubtfully. ‘But if we remain here I will have to face Jane Norwood every day and paint a likeness that will both please her husband and flatter her. I think I would rather go to prison.’
Nettie reached up and kissed her father’s thin cheek. ‘Never mind, Pa. Think of the money, and the rest of us will work in the hop garden.’
‘It’s not fair,’ Lisette said crossly. ‘I had to leave my portrait behind, and now you’re going to paint that virago.’
‘I promise to do another likeness of you, Condesa.’ Robert crossed his heart. ‘It will be my pleasure. This is pure necessity.’
‘And I’m not used to manual labour,’ Lisette protested. ‘I can’t work in the fields.’
‘I’ll do your share, Condesa,’ Nettie said eagerly. ‘All you would have to do would be to sit in the shade and try to look as though you’re doing something. If we stay here we’ll be safe, and we’re all together, that’s the most important thing.’
‘No one has asked me,’ Constance said crossly. ‘It would ruin my hands, and the sun would do dreadful things to my complexion. I’m not doing it.’
‘You could wear a hat,’ Nettie said unsympathetically. ‘We can’t stay here unless we work, and we can’t get away from here unless we earn some money.’
Robert shook his head. ‘You’re forgetting Byron and Percy. We haven’t told them or even asked their opinion. They’re young men, Nettie. They have minds of their own.’
‘Byron will do what is right.’ Nettie made an effort to sound confident. ‘I’m not so sure about Percy.’
‘He’ll agree with me,’ Constance said, pouting. ‘We’re not meant to toil in the fields like common labourers.’
Lisette rose from the sofa and made for the door. ‘I’m not happy about this, but I’ll speak to my sons, although I doubt if they’ll listen to me. Both of them are stubborn.’
‘I’m coming with you, Condesa.’ Constance followed her from the parlour, closing the door softly behind her.
‘At least I brought my paints and brushes with me,’ Robert said with an attempt at a smile. ‘All I need is a canvas and I can start painting that woman’s portrait. How her husband puts up with her is beyond my reckoning. The man must be a saint.’
Nettie patted him on the shoulder. ‘If we all work hard we can save enough to move on.’
‘You’re right, as always. We must be thankful to be rid of Wegg, and now I’m free from Duke Dexter I’ll never go back to my old ways.’
‘You’re a great artist, and one day you’ll receive the recognition you deserve.’
Nettie looked round as the door opened, expecting to see the condesa returning with her sons, but it was Rufus who entered the room.
‘Ah, Miss Carroll, just the person I was looking for.’ He made a mock bow. ‘My father tells me that you’re thinking of helping with the harvest, and he suggested that you might like to see the hop gardens for yourself before you make a final decision.’ He turned to Robert. ‘You, I gather, have the onerous task of pleasing my mother. I must warn you that she is fiendishly critical.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Robert said stiffly. ‘If we decide to stay.’
Rufus was suddenly serious. ‘Percy has told me a little of the events that brought you here, sir. It seems to me that to remain here for a while might be in your best interests, but of course that is your decision.’
Nettie eyed him curiously. Her first impression of Rufus Norwood in their brief encounter at the Gaiety Restaurant had not been favourable. She had written him off as a spoiled young man with wealth that he had done nothing to earn and a high opinion of his own charms; seeing him at the party in Dover had confirmed her opinion. Now, however, he seemed to be a different person, and she was confused.
‘Thank you, Mr Norwood. We’re considering the offer carefully.’ Robert shot a wary glance at Nettie. ‘We’re waiting to hear what the condesa’s sons think of the plan.’
‘I know what Percy will say,’ Rufus said confidently. ‘I can’t speak for Byron, but the offer is still there, Miss Carroll. The accommodation for the workers is far from luxurious, and maybe you ought to see what you’ll be letting yourself in for.’
Nettie shrugged. ‘We’ve probably stayed in worse, but I would like to see the hop garden.’
The late August sun beat down relentlessly on the forest of tall hop plants, which looked to Nettie’s untrained eye like exotic green fruits hanging in bunches from trailing vines. The air was hot and heavy, filled with the bitter scent of the hops, as men, women and children worked feverishly to fill their baskets, for which, Rufus said, they would be paid by the bushel. The heat was intense, but no one seemed to mind, and the women chatted to each other, the Romany speaking in their own tongue, while others sang. An old woman caught Nettie’s eye as she walked past and smiled. Children who were old enough worked alongside their parents, and the little ones played in the dust or slept in makeshift cradles made out of orange boxes.
Away from the hop garden there were rows of wooden huts. Washing lines were strung between them, hung with clothes drying in the sunshine, but the pervading smell from the privies was noxious.
‘You get used to it,’ Rufus said, chuckling. ‘It’s unpleasant, but we do treat the
latrines with lime each day in order to prevent disease, and there is a pump to provide fresh water.’
‘It all seems well organised,’ Nettie acknowledged. ‘The workers look happy enough.’
‘They can earn a lot more in a week here than they would in their normal occupations, and they get the benefit of fresh air and sunshine. We provide fruit and vegetables from our kitchen gardens, but the rest is up to them. Some of the men go out shooting rabbits or they go down to the river to fish. If they have small children Mama gives them milk from our dairy.’ Rufus met Nettie’s surprised look with a smile. ‘She’s not so bad when you get to know her. My mother was once a hopper.’
‘A hopper?’
‘She came with her parents from Shoreditch and she was picking hops when she caught my father’s eye – that’s how they met. Pa had worked his way up to being a foreman in the oast house by the time they married, and she’s been at his side through the hard times and helped him build the business into what it is today. Don’t judge her too harshly, Miss Carroll.’
Nettie turned her head away. She could feel the blush colouring her cheeks and she hoped he would put it down to the heat and not the wave of embarrassment that washed over her. Rufus had seen through her attempt to conceal the dislike she felt for his mother, and now she was ashamed.
‘We’ll work hard and earn our money, and we’ll move on as soon as the harvest is over.’ Nettie shot him a sideways glance. ‘You don’t seem convinced.’
He shrugged. ‘Have you ever done manual labour, Miss Carroll? Has the condesa ever lifted anything heavier than a wine glass? Percy is a good chap, but he’s not the most reliable person. He’s more likely to fall asleep in the sun than to do a full day’s work.’
‘He’s your friend.’
‘He is, and the hop harvest is important to my parents, and to me.’
Nettie rounded on him. ‘Have you ever done a full day’s work here?’
‘Yes, when I was younger I used to help with the harvest.’
‘And now, no doubt, you enjoy spending your parents’ hard-earned money.’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘I’m simply making a point, Mr Norwood. You reprimanded me just now for making a hasty judgement, and now it seems to me that you are doing exactly the same thing where we are concerned.’ Nettie managed to keep her tone calm, but inwardly she was fuming and she walked off without giving him a chance to respond. She quickened her pace, curbing the desire to look round to see if he were following, but there was no sound of footsteps and she could hear him talking to one of the hoppers. A quick peek over her shoulder confirmed the fact that he had stopped and was chatting amicably to a young Romany woman. Nettie walked on, she was even more determined to prove Rufus Norwood’s arrogant assumptions unfounded and unfair. She went to find her father and the condesa and report on the conditions under which they would be working.
The hut proved to be large, clean and very basic. Lisette was shocked to discover that they were all to share the same accommodation, and she insisted that the sleeping arrangements should be moved around so that the men slept in one half, separated from the women. Percy said he had spotted just the thing and went outside, returning moments later with a large piece of canvas, which he and Byron rigged up to divide the room and give the ladies privacy.
Constance gazed in disgust at the roughly constructed wooden cot where she was to sleep.
‘That’s not a bed.’
‘It’s better than sleeping on the floor.’ Nettie picked up a ticking case stuffed with straw and tossed it to her. ‘There’s your mattress. You’ll sleep well tonight, Constance.’
‘It crackles and it’s prickly. I won’t get a wink of sleep.’
‘I think we’ll all be exhausted by the end of the day,’ Nettie said grimly. ‘We’ve got to prove ourselves and if we don’t pick enough hops we’ll be sent packing.’
Lisette sank down on her bed and groaned. ‘This is dreadful. I think we should give up now and move on regardless. I can’t believe that the workers live in these conditions.’
‘You haven’t seen some of the lodging houses in London where Pa and I rented rooms in the past,’ Nettie said briskly. ‘Come on, it’s not so bad. We can’t just get up and leave because we’re virtually penniless. If we arrive in London without any money we’ll be sleeping under the railway arches and this will seem like luxury.’
‘Nettie’s right.’ Byron stuck his head round the corner of the canvas curtain. ‘The sooner we get started the better. I’m prepared to work twice as hard if it will make life easier for all of you.’
‘I’ll do my bit,’ Percy added, peering over the top and chuckling. ‘You do look a dispirited bunch. Come on, ladies. It’s not so bad. One day, Constance, we’ll look back at this and laugh.’
She glared at him. ‘I don’t think it’s at all amusing.’
‘We’ve already lost time.’ Nettie caught Byron’s eye and smiled. ‘I’ll pick twice as much as you.’
‘I wouldn’t put money on it.’ He lifted the stiff canvas so that she could duck underneath it and make her way to the door. ‘Come on, Mother. You too, Constance. Let’s make a start.’
Reluctantly, Lisette rose to her feet and followed Nettie, with Constance not far behind.
Byron caught up with Nettie outside. ‘It’s going to be tough. Are you sure you want to go through with this?’
‘I don’t see that we have much choice,’ Nettie whispered as she fell into step beside him. ‘I just comfort myself with the thought that we might have been forced to walk to London, begging for food on the way. This is infinitely preferable.’
Byron chuckled. ‘I’ll ask you the same question at the end of the day. You might feel differently then.’
She responded with a smile. ‘You know me, Byron. I don’t complain; I get on with things. I just hope the other hoppers don’t resent us for barging in on them and taking some of the work.’
Byron gazed at the forest of hop vines and shook his head. ‘I think there’s enough work here to keep us all busy. Let’s get started.’
Nettie was about to reply when they were approached by the burly foreman. He shot a cursory glance at each of them in turn and then barked out a set of instructions. He spoke so quickly that Nettie only caught a few of his words in the Kentish dialect, but he thrust baskets at them and it was easy enough to copy the actions of the other hoppers. Nettie had expected some animosity from the people who were working industriously, but, apart from one or two who gave them black looks, the other workers were friendly enough and willing to answer questions. The women were openly curious and Nettie was aware of the appreciative glances of the younger men, and some of the older ones, too. Although they received swift reprimands from their wives and the work went on at a surprisingly fast pace.
They were allowed a break for their midday meal, and they would have gone hungry had not a maid from the house arrived bringing a basket covered with a white cloth, which she handed to Nettie. ‘From Cook, miss.’
‘What is this?’ Nettie asked. ‘We didn’t order anything from the kitchen.’
The girl shrugged and backed away. ‘I think Mr Rufus told her to put up something for you and your friends.’
Percy had been standing close by, having been told to use his height to cut down the strings of hops for them to pick. ‘That sounds like him. He’s a good chap, Nettie. Generous to a fault.’
Nettie was tempted to hand the food back to the girl, but her stomach was rumbling and she knew the others must be equally hungry. ‘Thank Cook for us, please.’
‘Yes, miss.’ The girl raced off in the direction of the kitchens at the back of the main house.
‘Ten minutes,’ the foreman shouted. ‘You’ve got ten minutes and then I want to see those fingers flying and the baskets heaped up.’
Percy was first to snatch the clean napkin off the basket and he grinned appreciatively. ‘Good old Rufus. Look at this. We’ve got bre
ad, cheese and pickled onions, and that looks like ginger cobnut cake. It’s a local speciality – Rufus brought one at the beginning of the Michaelmas term. It was for him to share with his year, but he gave me a slice, too.’
‘He’s a bit older than you,’ Nettie observed casually. ‘How did you become friends?’
‘We were both in the rowing club, but we weren’t selected for the racing crew, so we went to the pub instead, and then we shared a room for a while.’
‘He’s very generous.’ Lisette glanced into the basket. ‘Although it’s not the type of food my cooks used to send to the table, I’m too hungry to care.’
Nettie said nothing as she helped herself to bread and cheese. She wondered how her father was getting on with Jane Norwood and a wry smile curved her lips. Perhaps painting Jane’s portrait was Pa’s punishment for his past misdeeds. With a patroness like Mrs Norwood, he was serving his sentence in the most unusual manner.
The ten minutes passed all too quickly and they went back to the work, which looked deceptively simple; it was hard on those unused to manual labour, and it was hot and dusty beneath the vines. After an hour or two Nettie was tired and sweating profusely and her clothes were sticking to her back. She glanced round, wondering how the other women managed to keep up such a pace, but they seemed cheerful enough and their chatter never ceased. When they weren’t talking, they were singing and the children who were too small to work danced amongst them like grubby elves.
Nettie had to concentrate all her efforts on the job in hand, and even then she was much slower than the other pickers. Constance and Lisette worked in short bursts, stopping to fan themselves and take sips of water, and if they complained it was in whispers. Percy and Byron worked with the men, pulling down the vines and emptying the baskets into larger containers ready to be weighed before being tipped into bins and taken to the oast house.