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5: A Wet Day
‘To Miss Fletcher, Chadwell Park, nr Ware, Hertfordshire. My dearest friend, Ricky and I await your first letter with the greatest impatience, but I could not wait to tell you of the latest scandal currently enlivening our dull little town. The rumours about Camilla Weston are all too true, for she is in a difficult situation, as the euphemism goes. I am sure you know what that means, and I do not quite like to write it openly in a letter. If you do not know, ask Julia for Ricky says she knows a great deal that is rather improper. Anyway, it means that Camilla must marry at once, and there is some talk of one of the Fessell boys, but I cannot see that happening at all. The worst of it is that some people are saying it ought to be Will, that he has not behaved as he ought towards Camilla and must now set things right, but I cannot believe that. Mr Weston himself says there is no blame attached to Will, but you know how these rumours fly, once started, and I thought I would just warn you, so that Will might be prepared. Do write soon, my dear friend. Ricky goes every day to fetch the post himself in hopes of a letter from you. He sends you his best regards, as do I, your most affectionate friend, Belinda.’
~~~~~
All Julia’s optimistic plans for another long walk before breakfast were dashed by the sight of steady, drenching rain as soon as she ran to the window on awakening. Well, she would just have to find something else to do.
There was no point in waiting for hot water, or even tepid water, to appear from below stairs, so she washed in what was left in the ewer from last night, and dressed herself as best she could. Even after last night’s huge meal, she was hungry. She was always hungry, but at home in Sagborough she had gone to the kitchen for something to put her on until the next meal. Why should she not do so here?
She made her way downstairs, seeing nobody, although somewhere a maid was clattering the fire irons. Entering the passage to the kitchen, she stepped from the deep pile of expensive rugs to plain druggets, and the oily smell of tallow candles. In the kitchen building, she could hear angry voices in the distance, and the sound of someone sweeping, but where was the kitchen? She knew only the short passage from the outer door where the gamekeeper had deposited her.
Taking a guess, she walked past several closed doors and then came to one that stood open. Inside, the butler lounged at his ease with one of the footmen, the pair laughing together over glasses of wine.
“It’s a bit early for drinking, I’d have thought,” Julia said to them genially.
They both drifted to their feet. “What are you doing here, miss?” the butler said.
“Looking for the kitchen and some food, but I think I should have gone the other way.”
“If you would care to return to your part of the house, miss, you may ring the bell and I shall bring you whatever you require,” the butler said coldly.
“And wait an hour for you to turn up? A body could expire from hunger in a place like this. The cook will have baked the morning rolls, so I’ll just help myself to a couple and clear off.”
The butler drew himself up to his full height. “It is not for you tohelp yourselfto anything you happen to fancy.”
Julia’s eyebrows rose. “It’s not for you to give me orders, Keeble. I shall go where I like and help myself to whatever I like, and noservantwill gainsay me. Where is the kitchen?”
For several seconds, Keeble glared at her and she wondered if even now he dared to defy her, but then he gave the tiniest nod to the footman, who said, “Follow me, miss.”
“My name is Miss Julia or Miss Fletcher,” she said. “I thought the housekeeper was merely badly trained, an exception, perhaps, but I see that insolence and laziness is endemic in this house. It was not so when Sir Owen and Lady Plummer were here, I’ll warrant, because everything at the Manor runs to time with the greatest efficiency. You should remember who pays your wages, Keeble. If you don’t like working for us, then find employment elsewhere, but if you choose to stay, then you will have to do better than this. We may be northern, and we may have been in trade, but we are not savages and we know the difference between good service and bad, and we don’t tolerate the latter. Remember that.”
And then she swept out of the room, head high.
~~~~~
‘To Miss Jupp, St Peter’s Road, Sagborough, West Riding. My dear Belinda, I hope you like my first drawings. One is of my bedroom — a whole room all to myself! I cannot quite like sleeping alone, but I suppose I must accustom myself to it, for Mama says it is how the gentry lives. However, when Allie comes to stay in the summer, we shall have to double up again. The other drawing is of what is called the gallery, full of old paintings and strange statues, to which I cannot do justice, but you will get a general idea. It is very peaceful for no one else goes there. I take your letters there to read and reread when I feel a little overwhelmed by everything. We dined last night with Sir Owen Plummer and his family at Chadwell Manor, and although they were very polite to us, I was uncomfortable all evening. Do you remember when Mrs Malpas told us of the time she dined with Lord and Lady Craston, and they were kindness itself, she said, and she knew Lady Craston when she was just a humble seamstress, so there should have been no uneasiness at all, and yet she felt as if she had no business to be there, mingling with such people as if she were their equal? Well, now I know exactly how she felt. I wish I were more like Julia and Angie, for they felt no discomfort at all. They seemed quite at home, and Mama, naturally, for she is gentry herself, but I could not be easy, despite all Mr Michael Plummer’s efforts. Angie played her usual games, for she hid the salt cellar. I went hot and cold when it was looked for and could not be found, only the spoon, despite the servants’ efforts, for I was sure it was one of Angie’s tricks, and she confessed it later. She hid it in a dish of pears, can you believe it! I do not know how she has the effrontery! Fortunately, Mama did not guess, but I think Pa did. As for Julia, she was laughing and joking with the other Plummer son, who is also the rector, but he is not at all a pious person, I think, for he encouraged Julia shamefully. She was not at all ladylike, eating from all the meat dishes just like the men, and then she was asking him about the servants and how long it takes them to answer bells and such like. I was quite mortified by it, I confess. But there, I suppose she will never change, and she will be as cross as anything today because it is raining and she cannot go out. I do not know how we are to occupy her inside the house. Must go — time for breakfast. Must not be late. Yours in haste, your affectionate friend, Rosie.’
~~~~~
Julia wondered if she might have done more harm than good by her outburst towards the butler, but miraculously breakfast was on time, the coffee hot and strong, the mutton chops juicy and the toast cooked to perfection, since they prepared it themselves, just as they had always done at home. Mama had asked more than once for toasting forks to be put out for them, but Keeble had said that they had not yet found any. Today, they appeared, and there was great harmony in the breakfast parlour, despite the weather.
After breakfast, it was time to despatch Johnny north to Cambridge.
“This is a new experience, setting off after breakfast,” he said, grinning. “I shall be there in good time for dinner, too. You are far more conveniently placed now — three hours of travel instead of three days or more. We should have moved south long since.”
Mama preened under such praise, but Pa merely reiterated the instructions not to overtax the horses, to find beds for the night for Murgatroyd and Young Jim, the coachmen, and to send them home in good time the next day in case the carriage was wanted.
“I shall look after them, never fear,” Johnny said.
“Aye, I do fear it. Don’t be taking them off to a tavern to drink the night away. I want them back safe and sound tomorrow.”
Johnny just laughed, and with hugs from Mama, handshakes from Will and Pa, and tears from Rosie, he was persuaded into the carriage, and it rolled off into the driving rain.
Everyone else dashed back into the house to escape the chill damp air, but Julia lingered on beside Pa.
“He’s happy about it, anyway,” Pa said softly. “Are you happy, puss? You seemed to enjoy yourself last night.”
“That was just Mr James Plummer’s nonsense,” Julia said. “He’s a peculiar sort of rector, don’t you think? He made me laugh. But the house… the estate…I love the space.” She took in a huge lungful of rainy air, then threw out an arm towards the lake and the woods beyond. “Look at it, Pa. All this is ours — well, yours, I suppose, and Will’s eventually. All this emptiness is ours. No warehouses hemming us in. No crowds of people. No mill chimneys belching out smoke to cloak us in darkness. I canbreathehere, in a way I never could in Sagborough. Up there, I was always trying to escape from the town, from the narrow streets, the clamouring crowds. Here, I can walk in any direction and be free. It’s wonderful.”
