Oh, yes, a dark brooding gentleman, handsome in his brown riding jacket and chamois leather breeches, would absolutely make the maids pay attention to her questions. ‘Definitely not. They will be flirting, or minding their manners, or whatever else they think appropriate to impress you.’
‘Woe is me. I am redundant. Then what am I to do, dear Dora?’
She loved that he now played with her in their exchanges. When they first met in Kendal, he had been too straitlaced to join in the game. ‘Go to the inn, dear Jacob, and ply anyone there who knew Leyburn with drinks. That might loosen tongues.’
‘A tough assignment. If I get a headache, I’m blaming you.’
She smirked. ‘You need to learn to act drunk, Jacob, not be so.’
They trotted into the town past a dilapidated castle, a relic of the many wars that had swept through this area. She dismounted once they’d passed the gateway, and Jacob took the reins so he could lead her horse to the inn while she went in search of the servants’ entrance to the Leyburn family home on Castlegate.
Studying the house from the front– the largest one in the steep terraced street, a fine place with a portico over the front door– Dora concluded that she had better find the lane at the back because it wasn’t the butler she wanted to meet. Butlers were trained to send nosy people packing, and so shortly after a scandalous death in the family he would be on high alert.
As she had suspected, a modest alleyway lay to the rear. That was more her level. She walked along, occasionally jumping up to judge which house she was behind. Locating the gate to what she believed was the right property, she took off her fine redingote, worn to impress Langhorne, folded it into her bag and replaced it with a shawl tied crossways around her middle. She now appeared a respectable but ordinary woman with work-roughed hands, carrying her worldly goods with her. Helpfully, the evidence of weeding had not entirely disappeared from under her nails. She tried the handle. The gate opened upon a paved courtyard and luck was with her: the fine weather meant it was washday.
Loud with domestic clatter, two maids were pouring hot water into the washtub as the laundress sat, knees apart, scrubbing board between her legs, pummelling a shift with lye soap. Dora judged that, from the washerwoman’s reddened arms, she was likely a professional, hired to go from house to house to do the specialist task of cleaning the clothes without damaging the fragile fabrics or letting the dye run and spoil the wash. Today must be the turn of the Leyburn household and they were tackling the linen. The laundress had her child in tow. The little girl was dipping a clay pipe into the soapy water and blowing bubbles, chuckling as they rose up into the air, much to the exasperation of the family dog, who yapped as the prizes floated like Montgolfier balloons out of its reach no matter how high it jumped.
Judging the garment clean enough, the laundress tossed the shift to the older maid on her right, who rinsed it in a second tub of clean water, a casual efficiency between them. They were chattering away happily, unaware they were being watched until one of the bubbles drifted to Dora and burst on her hat brim. The dog almost bumped into her, turning its embarrassment to a barrage of barking.
‘Ma!’ said the child. ‘There be someone a’t’gate.’
The three women looked over. ‘What brings ye here, mistress?’ asked the older of the maids, so likely the senior. She pulled the dog back by its collar. ‘Quiet now, Pug.’
‘Good day to you,’ said Dora. ‘I was wondering if there be any work for willing hands? I’m on my way to join my husband at Portsmouth and I’d rather work than beg.’
‘Wi’ the army, is he?’ asked the laundress, flipping a shirt onto the board. ‘Or navy?’
‘34thRegiment of Foot under Captain Cooper, mistress.’
‘And ye?’
‘I come from Liverpool. My Jacob is from these parts but now he’s bound for Spain.’ Best not to invent too much.
‘And yer hopin’ to go wi’ him? Weel, lass, that’s brave.’
‘Better than being left behind to starve. They draw lots among the wives. Some of us are allowed to go as laundresses.’ She looked significantly at the tub.
The three women exchanged a glance and then the laundress jerked her chin at the place beside her. ‘Move along, Annie.’ The little girl got up off her stool. ‘Sit ye down, and let’s make use on ye while ye are here. There’ll be sixpence in it if ye prove a hard worker.’
‘Much obliged for your kindness.’ Dora was no stranger to a wash tub. She picked up a bar of soap, selected a petticoat from the pile waiting to be washed and set about scrubbing dirt from the hem.
‘Tell us about your Jacob,’ asked the younger maid, pegging out the rinsed garments. ‘Is he verra fine?’
‘He is magnificent,’ Dora said with a grin, thinking back to their most recent lovemaking in the open air. ‘He looks very proper but when you get rid of these,’ she gestured to the clothing, ‘he’s very passionate.’
‘Little ears,’ muttered the older servant.
The laundress cackled. ‘Never ye mind about Annie. She’s heard it all, I can tell ye. I like to hear when others are blessed wi’ tha vigorous man. Her faither were ne’er one to set a woman’s world afire, if ye ken what I mean.’
‘I wish I could find me a soldier boy,’ sighed the romantic lass.
‘They’re mostly rogues,’ advised Dora. ‘Pick carefully.’ The other two chorused their agreement. ‘How about this household? Any soldiers here? It must be the home of a general at the very least.’
The women’s faces grew sombre.
‘Nay, lass, ye can’t ha’ ben in Cockermouth lang if ye haven’ae heard.’ The laundress quickly told the story of the master of the house being done for down south where all the bad things happen. ‘Maybe ye should think on stayin’ up north, mistress? Let another wife follow the drum.’
‘And allow some huzzy into my Jacob’s bed? Nay, I’ll be following if I can. He’s as faithful as they come when I’m there, but when I’m not…’ She let that hang, dripping with implications of male infidelity like the shirt now pegged to the line.
