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There was a knock on the study door. ‘Come in,’ Daniel called.
It was the bootboy, Joe, to say that dinner was served, if he’d be pleased to come.
‘Thank you,’ Daniel said sincerely. ‘I’d be delighted.’
Dinner was a delicious meal, and Daniel had not realised until he smelled the fragrant steam rising from the table how hungry he was. He had never dined in a servants’ hall before. He imagined that most people who were not themselves servants had not done so. No one ate with their own servants.
But Daniel was not master here. He was their guest, and possibly considered something closer to their level than a man who might have servants himself. Daniel had a landlady who looked after him very well, but his father, although knighted by the Queen, never forgot that his father had been a servant, albeit a gamekeeper, not an indoor servant.
He watched the exchanges across the table with interest. Falthorne was very obviously the head of the family – and ‘family’ was not too intense a word for their relationship. He would have been the senior servant, even before Graves’ arrest, but now he had the extra responsibility of being the only adult man in the house. Daniel saw that he was handling it with grace.
Everyone deferred to him, except perhaps Ebony’s lady’s maid, Miss Purbright. She had the relationship with the rest of the servants that a visiting maiden aunt might have had. She was treated with respect but never completely included.
The housekeeper, Mrs Warlaby, contested with the cook, Mrs Hanslope, for supremacy. The kitchen maid, Bessie, was about sixteen, and answered to the cook. The housemaid, Maisie, was eighteen and made a point of the fact that she answered to Mrs Warlaby.
The bootboy, Joe, aspired to being a footman when he was older and he answered to the butler or the housekeeper, whoever got to him first.
It did not take Daniel long to realise that Joe played one off against the other, with considerable advantage
, as an inborn skill.
Strict discipline was kept at the table. Falthorne said grace before the meal. No one fidgeted, and certainly no one tasted the food before he had finished.
‘You may begin,’ he gave permission.
Everyone reached for knife and fork, Daniel included.
Joe was clearly too hungry to think of anything else. But the kitchen maid, Bessie, stared at Daniel quite openly until Mrs Hanslope told her not to. Bessie murmured something that sounded like an apology, flushed scarlet, and bent her attention back to her plate.
The meal was beef and kidney pudding with a suet crust, with cabbage and early green beans. Everyone else was served, but Daniel was permitted to serve himself, which he accepted with thanks. He took one mouthful and complimented Mrs Hanslope sincerely. She accepted it graciously, but as her due.
Daniel began to feel surprisingly comfortable, as gradually they forgot his purpose and began to behave as if he were one of them. They teased each other, especially the younger ones. They gossiped about trivia, people they knew, servants in other nearby large houses.
They finished the main course. Joe, the bootboy, was permitted to eat the remainder of the pudding after Daniel had declined a second helping with thanks. Daniel was served apple pie freshly from the oven, probably with apples stored over the winter. The crust was crisp and it was accompanied by hot custard.
This time, Daniel did not compliment Mrs Hanslope; he merely took a mouthful and smiled at her, an expression of pure delight. She was more than satisfied. There was a flush of pleasure on her cheeks.
As they all relaxed a little more, Joe began to tease the maids, and the banter was quick, and forgetful of the underlying tension. The cook looked on benevolently and even Mrs Warlaby smiled.
Daniel realised how much all of them were alone, and far from their families, if they had any. This was their family now. This was where they lived and worked, their safety, belonging, and purpose. They were deliberately avoiding saying what they all feared: that soon it would come to an end. They would have to find new positions in places as yet unknown. But more than that, they would inevitably be separated. And, once again, be alone.
It was Maisie, the housemaid, who gave words to it. She looked at Daniel. ‘Joe says you’re here to find something as’ll save Mr Graves, and ’e’ll come ’ome. That true, mister?’
Daniel felt all the desperation that was behind that question.
‘Don’t be daft!’ Bessie the kitchen maid said a little roughly. ‘’E dunnit. Nothing can save ’im. You want ’im ’ome, anyway? Remember poor Mrs Graves, yer daft little ha’porth. In’t you got no sense at all?’
Daniel thought of Gracie, and for a few seconds he was back at the dinner table of his childhood. Gracie’s scathingly honest opinions had been so often right.
He wanted to interrupt, comfort both of them, and protect Bessie, who looked so crushed, but he could learn so much more from letting them talk.
Falthorne was obviously uncomfortable. ‘You are speaking out of turn, Maisie. Justice must be done. And you, too, Bessie. It is not your place to give your opinions at the table. Or at all, for that matter.’
The housekeeper gave him a quick look, but she did not speak. Order must be preserved. It was the only kind of safety they had left. They had to cling onto it for as long as possible.
‘Mr Arthur and Miss Sarah will have to live somewhere,’ Mrs Warlaby said. ‘They may stay here, and if they move somewhere else, they could take us with them . . .’ Her voice trailed off. It was a brave hope, and nobody argued with her.
Daniel wondered what would happen to the estate if Russell Graves were hanged. Did it go to his heirs? Was it another reason to hope to find some grounds for appeal?
