After leaving home, Marcie strode out purposefully until she turned into the tall, metal gates surrounding Haunchwood House where her steps slowed and for the first time she felt nervous. The drive leading to the house was bordered on either side by tall trees: ash, elm and cedar, but she could just glimpse the house through them and it looked very grand and imposing. A whole world apart from the hovel they’d been forced to live in, she thought, and her courage returned. What did she have to lose, after all? She would try the post and if she didn’t like it she could always go home. Nessie was so soft she would never see her out on the streets, she was sure.
Taking a deep breath, she moved on again. She had been told to report to the kitchen at the back of the house and when the drive ended she saw there was a path curving away to the side. She figured this must lead to the kitchen. Before she followed it, though, she paused to admire the place. The house was huge and surrounded by sweeping lawns and flower beds that were tended by a small army of gardeners. Beautiful marble steps led up to a stout oak door, on either side of which were long, sash-cord windows hung with heavy velvet curtains. She guessed that the rooms would be light and airy, unlike the poky, dark rooms with their tiny leaded lights that she was used to.
She moved on and once she had rounded the end of the house, saw that she was going in the right direction. A stable block was ahead of her and a number of outbuildings, and a young, red-faced woman was hanging washing on a line that stretched from the back of the house to a thick post in the centre of a huge cobbled yard. She glanced up and Marcie asked, ‘Could you tell me which door leads to the kitchen?’
The girl swiped her nose along the sleeve of her coarse, cotton blouse and pointed. ‘’Tis that one there. Is you the girl what’s come to ’elp the cook?’
‘I am,’ Marcie answered imperiously, as if she was visiting royalty rather than a kitchen maid come to take up her new post. The girl looked a little simple to her, which was why she supposed she was only the laundry maid. She was short and dumpy, her mousy hair was dragged back from her face and tied with string and Marcie noticed that her hands were almost red raw.
Ignoring the girl now, who she noted was watching her with her mouth hanging slackly open, she headed for the door and, after tentatively knocking on it, stepped into a kitchen that almost took her breath away. She was sure it must be as big as the whole of the cottage she had lived in put together. A massive scrubbed, pine table littered with dirty pots stood in the centre of the room and on one of the walls was the most enormous dresser she had ever seen stacked with fine bone china plates, cups and saucers. On another wall was a large range, again covered in dirty pans, and under the window overlooking the yard was a huge stone sink and a large wooden draining board. She was so busy looking about that when someone spoke she almost jumped out of her skin.
‘Ah, so you’ve decided to put in an appearance, ’ave you?’
Marcie’s eyes flew towards the voice and she saw a plump woman with a large mob cap perched on her head sitting in a chair at the side of an inglenook fireplace, above which gleaming copper pans of all shapes and sizes were suspended. Her feet were bare and resting on a footstool and a cup and saucer were balancing on her ample bosom. This, she supposed, must be the cook.
‘I was told to report here for eight o’clock and I’m sure I’m not late,’ Marcie answered defensively, clutching her bundle to her. The woman looked quite intimidating.
‘Hmm!’ The woman narrowed her eyes and peered at her closely and Marcie had the feeling she could see right into her very soul. ‘Well, whether yer late or not, breakfast is over so there’s plenty fer you to do.’ The woman swung her legs off the stool and slipped her swollen feet into a worn pair of house shoes. ‘I’ll call Mrs Bainbridge, she’s the ’ousekeeper. She can sort you out wi’ yer uniform an’ show you yer room, then you can get crackin’ on this ’ere pile o’ dirty pots afore yer start preparin’ the vegetables for lunch.’
Marcie stared about in dismay at the mountains of dirty crockery but wisely didn’t argue. She had an idea she wasn’t going to get away with much with this woman. Meanwhile the woman headed for a green baize door at the end of the room and disappeared through it only to appear again seconds later with another woman in tow. It was the woman she had met in the post office the week before. She was tall and thin and she held herself erect and Marcie thought she looked quite regal. The woman was dressed in a pale-grey dress with a high collar and long sleeves, its only adornment being a slight ruffle of lace at the collar and cuffs. The dress was fitted in tight to the waist, around which hung a chatelaine with a number of keys jangling from it, and it then fell into a full, flared skirt that rustled as she walked. Her dark hair, kissed with grey above the ears, was pulled into a tight bun that balanced precariously on the top of her head and her blue-grey eyes were cold.
‘Ah, Marcie, you’re here then,’ she said rather unnecessarily. ‘I’m Mrs Bainbridge, the housekeeper, as cook has told you, no doubt. We didn’t really have a proper introduction when we met in town, did we?’
When Marcie shook her head, the woman frowned. ‘When addressing me in future you will say, “Yes, miss.” Is that understood?’
‘Yes, miss.’ Marcie was growing more nervous by the minute and was beginning to wonder what she had let herself in for.
‘Good. Then come along … but remember, after today you never go through this door unless invited.’
Marcie followed her through the green baize door into another world, and it was all she could do to stop herself from gasping. As they walked along a wide hallway she stared down at the wooden parquet tiles on the floor and marvelled at how shiny they were. She could almost see her face in them. Gilded mirrors and oil paintings, mainly of landscapes, hung on the walls. Here and there fine Turkish rugs covered the floor and everything smelled of beeswax and lavender polish. There was a fine hall table beneath one of the mirrors on which stood an enormous bunch of hothouse flowers that smelled divine as she passed them, and Marcie wondered if this was what heaven must be like. They had gone no more than a few yards when the woman halted and, taking one of the keys from the bunch that hung about her waist, opened a door and ushered Marcie through it. It was a long, narrow room with shelves on either side of it and after approaching one the woman turned to look at Marcie closely.
‘Hmm.’ She pulled two dresses from one of the shelves and after shaking one out she held it against Marcie. ‘I think these should be about your size,’ she muttered more to herself than Marcie. ‘Should they need altering you will have to do it yourself of an evening when you’ve finished your chores.’ She then selected two large, white aprons and after passing them to Marcie asked, ‘What size shoe are you?’
Marcie flushed. Having never had a brand-new pair of shoes in her entire life she wasn’t sure. She usually just tried on the second-hand ones at the rag stall in the market and took the pair that fit her best.
‘Try these,’ the woman said flatly.
She held out a pair of flat, black leather shoes with laces. They had obviously been worn before but even so they were far superior to any that Marcie had ever owned.
‘They’re a bit big,’ Marcie told her after a moment, so the woman began to rummage along the shelf again and held out another pair.
This time Marcie sighed with pleasure as her foot slid into one and she nodded. ‘This one is fine …’ A glare from the woman made her add quickly, ‘Miss.’
‘Good, now you’ll need a couple of nightgowns and some petticoats.’
Mrs Bainbridge continued to pile things into her arms until Marcie could barely see above them. Satisfied, eventually, that Marcie had all she needed, Mrs Bainbridge asked, ‘Now, is there anything you would like to ask me?’
‘Er, yes, miss, there is … What will me wages be?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Bainbridge actually began to smile. ‘How remiss of me. I should have told you … would have told you had you come for an interview. You will earn seven pounds a year and you will be paid quarterly.’ Her face became sterner, and folding her hands neatly at her waist she went on, ‘The manner I employed you, on the spot, as it were, was quite … should I say unorthodox? Normally I would interview anyone that came forward and ask for references but because I know Cook desperately needed the help I decided to give you a chance. You won’t let me down, will you, Marcie?’
When Marcie solemnly shook her head, she smiled again. ‘Good, then I shall give you the rules you are to live by while you are in employment in this house. Should a member of the family enter the kitchen, you will lower your head and not speak unless you are spoken to. In the unlikely event that you are called into the main house, should a member of the family encounter you, you will stand to one side and not attempt to address them, nor will you speak to another servant while any member of the family is present. Your hours will be from six in the morning until seven o’clock at night, unless the family are having a dinner party and then you will stay to see to the dishes after the guests have gone.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Good, then I think that’s it for now.’ Mrs Bainbridge ushered her towards the door. ‘I’ll get the house maid to show you where you’re to sleep. You’ll be sharing a room with her, but I’m afraid you’ll have to put your things away this evening. Cook needs you in the kitchen but I’ll give you time to get changed into your uniform before you start.’ She stepped back into the hallway with Marcie close behind her and seconds later the person she was obviously looking for appeared from a door on her left.
‘Ah, Eliza.’ Mrs Bainbridge beckoned to her. ‘This is Marcie Carson. She’ll be sharing your room with you. Would you show her where it is?’
‘Yes, miss.’ The girl bobbed her knee and glanced at Marcie curiously. She was quite small, barely up to Marcie’s shoulder, but even wearing her rough uniform and an enormous mob cap Marcie saw that she was quite pretty, with flaming red hair and violet-blue eyes. She had a merry face that dimpled when she smiled and as Mrs Bainbridge headed towards the magnificent staircase, Eliza led her back towards the kitchen.
‘Our room is up in the servants’ quarters,’ she informed Marcie cheerfully before opening a door in the kitchen that led to a steep, wooden staircase. ‘And I should warn you, it’s hot as hell up here in the summer and cold as clouts in the winter. It’s not so bad once you get used to it, though.’
Marcie was huffing and puffing as she jiggled her bundle and the clothes she’d been issued with up the narrow stairs but at last they arrived at the top of it.
‘This is my … well, our room now,’ Eliza told her, throwing a door wide and Marcie stepped into what was to become her new home. It was already quite nippy up there and she could imagine how cold it would be in deep winter, but for all that it wasn’t so bad. There were two iron-framed beds, one on either side of the room, and next to each one was a chest of drawers. A small window was set quite high up in the wall between them and the floor was bare floorboards, although there was a rag rug between the beds to step out onto.
‘There’s an indoor toilet and a washroom further along the landing, third door on your right, and you can pump hot water up into the bath straight from a copper in the kitchen,’ Eliza informed her.
Marcie’s eyes stretched open wide. Imagine that, hot water without having to cart it all the way upstairs in jugs. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be so bad working here after all. A smile lifted at the corners of her lips as she thought of the real reason she had taken the job, but then she realised that Eliza was speaking again and dragged her mind back to the present.
‘I’ll leave you to get changed into your uniform then,’ Eliza said good-naturedly. ‘But if you take my advice, you won’t be too long about it. Cook can be a demon if you keep ’er waitin’. See you later.’ And with that she was gone, closing the door softly behind her as Marcie dropped her belongings onto the bed that was to be hers.
As quickly as she could she stripped off her Sunday best clothes and slid into the petticoats and one of the dresses that Mrs Bainbridge had issued her with. It was a thick linen material in a mid-grey colour with a high neck, long sleeves and buttons running from the waist up to the neckline. She slid her feet into the soft leather shoes and did a little twirl. The dress was plain but apart from being slightly long, it fit her well and was easily the nicest dress she’d ever worn. There wasn’t a single patch on it and she loved the feel of the woollen petticoats against her skin. Aware that time was moving on, she quickly gathered her hair and pushed it beneath a white linen mob cap and hurried downstairs, tying her apron as she went.
Cook was still sitting in the chair when she reached the kitchen and she nodded towards the mountain of dirty pots that seemed to cover every available surface.
‘You’d best get cracking on that lot. And be quick about it, it’ll be time to start the lunch soon. An’ mind yer don’t break anythin’ an’ all. If yer do I’ll make sure it’s deducted from yer wages.’ And with that she shook her newspaper, perched her spectacles on the end of her nose and carried on reading, as if Marcie wasn’t even there.
Miserable old cow, Marcie thought, as she rolled her sleeves up and approached the sink, but she was wise enough not to say anything.
It took her well over an hour to scrub the pots and dry them and once they were piled onto the end of the table she asked the cook, ‘Where should I put these?’
The woman glanced up from the pastry she was rolling and nodded towards the cupboard beneath the dresser. ‘Gilt-edged ones, they’re the family’s, on the top o’ the dresser an’ the rest in them cupboards below. Then make a start on the potatoes. Peel me a good panful.’
No please or thank you, but then Marcie supposed she shouldn’t expect it. She was only the kitchen maid … for now.
By the time she was excused from her duties that evening, Marcie was so weary she was sure she’d never manage the stairs to her room. Every single bone in her body ached and her hands were red raw from the soda and the rough sand she had scrubbed the bottoms of the pans with. After the family had eaten she had sat down to her own meal with some of the other staff but already she had forgotten their names and was so tired she was sure she could have slept for a month straight off. She wasn’t complaining about the meals though. Mrs Roe, the cook, had prepared a fillet of beef with all the trimmings for the family, which was so tender it almost fell off the bone, while the staff had dined on steak and kidney pie. The pastry was so soft that it melted in her mouth and it was served with creamy mashed potatoes. Her stomach was full for the first time in weeks and briefly she wondered what her family would be eating tonight, but then she quickly pushed the thought away.
When she finally made it to her room she found Eliza already in bed with just a single candle burning on the chest of drawers beside her. ‘I left it burnin’ for you so’s you’d see your way about,’ she mumbled sleepily. Marcie was glad the girl was tired. She was herself but the night hadn’t begun yet for her so she slipped into bed fully clothed and snuffed the candle out, waiting impatiently until Eliza’s soft snores echoed around the room.
When she was quite sure that Eliza was fast asleep, she sneaked out of the bed and left the room, quiet as a mouse. It was time to meet someone very special and then the fun could begin. Her first day at the house had been much harder than she had expected it to be, but then, she told herself, it was only for the time being. George had overheard the housekeeper telling his mother that she would be going into town the next morning to place an ad for a new maid in the shop window and he had told Marcie to be there to ensure that she was the first to apply for the job. Everything had gone to plan and now she had her foot in the door. Admittedly she was only a maid as yet but hopefully, given time, she would be joining the family and then the servants would be bowing and scraping to her! The thought made her tingle with excitement.