‘So, how is the new kitchen maid doing, Mrs Bainbridge?’
Mrs Bainbridge smiled at her mistress. ‘Fine, I believe, although Cook has said that she can be a bit mouthy at times.’ She shook her head. ‘But then, I suppose that could be said for most young people nowadays.’
‘And don’t I know it!’ Constance Dorsey sighed. ‘Two of my own included. And I lay the blame for that squarely on their father’s shoulders. He would insist on all this fancy schooling and private tutors for them and now our George thinks he’s a cut above everybody else.’
No one would have realised, could they have heard the two women, that they were mistress and servant, for Constance Dorsey, or Connie as she was known, had not forgotten her roots and could well remember when she was first married. She and her husband had counted themselves lucky to find a room to rent in the poorer part of town for they barely had two ha’pennies to rub together between them. Not that they’d been there for long. Oh no, her Johnny had had ambitions and somehow he had clawed his way up from nothing to being one of the wealthiest men in the town.
He’d started off selling fruit and veg from a small barrow in the marketplace until eventually he had managed to buy a run-down shop. Once that was refurbished and making a profit he’d saved every penny he could and bought another one and so on and so on until now he had his fingers into almost every business in the area. He even had part shares in the local pit and brickworks. Connie was proud of him, of course she was, but she was also painfully aware of what it had cost him. He had worked himself almost to death and now looked much older than his forty-six years. He was finally in a position to slow down and start enjoying life, to spend a little more time with his family. But would he? she asked herself. Would he, hell! She’d been forced to admit long ago that Johnny needed to work in the way some people needed to drink and had accepted that nothing was going to change him now. He was too set in his ways. Sometimes she would look about the vast house they owned and the servants they employed and have to pinch herself to believe that it was all real.
Connie’s feet were still set firmly on the ground, however, whereas Johnny enjoyed being looked up to and expected the best from his workers. She just wished at times that he could be the same with his children, for he spoiled them shamelessly and was insistent that they would never have to know what it was like to go hungry or almost work themselves to death as he had. They had had the best of everything since the second they each drew breath. The best food, the best clothes and the best education that money could buy. It had paid off with Oliver, their eldest, who was now about to take up a post as a junior doctor in the town, having recently completed his medical training. She was proud of him and his chosen profession, but the same couldn’t be said for Johnny, for when Oliver had told him what he wished to do his temper had been awful to behold.
‘But I’ve worked meself nearly to a standstill so that you and George can take over the businesses when I’m too old or gone,’ he’d screeched. ‘I thought you’d join me in helpin’ to keep everythin’ goin’.’
‘I’m sure George will do that,’ Oliver had answered calmly, refusing to be swayed.
‘Huh!’ Johnny had thumped the table making the cut-glass goblets dance. ‘You’ve got far more of a business head on yer shoulders than your brother has. It takes him all of his time to roll out o’ bed in the mornin’ let alone roll into work.’
It was then that Connie had stepped in, her eyes flashing. ‘Why, shame on you, Johnny Dorsey,’ she’d scolded, waggling a finger in his face. ‘Most parents would be proud that their offspring were clever enough to become a part o’ the medical profession, so think on, man!’
Johnny had bowed his head and said no more. He knew better than to go against Connie, who was a strong woman. He supposed she’d had to be to put up with him all these years and he still adored her as much as he had on the day they had wed. Instead, he’d stormed from the room as Connie patted her son’s hand encouragingly.
‘Take no heed o’ him, luv,’ she’d said, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. ‘Yer know what yer dad’s like, he’ll come round to your idea, given time.’
And Johnny had; although he still wasn’t happy, he accepted that Oliver had a mind of his own, unlike his younger son who was mixing with a bad crowd at the moment. Still, Johnny had high hopes that George would settle down in time. He was still a young man, just nineteen, and he was entitled to be carefree for a while and sow his wild oats after all the years he had spent away at private school. Only for a time, mind, Johnny thought, and then he’d clamp down on him good and proper and he’d have to get his arse into gear and learn the ropes about the various businesses. Johnny had worked too long and hard to see everything go to the wall now, by God he had!
Now, Connie and Mrs Bainbridge sat down side by side to go over the next week’s menus and they had almost finished when the drawing room door opened and Connie’s youngest, her daughter, Leonora, entered in a swish of fine velvet skirts. At eighteen, Leonora had vivid blue eyes like her mother’s and fair hair that had a tendency to curl. She was stunningly pretty and, unfortunately, she knew it. Being the youngest and the only girl, Johnny had spoiled her even more than her brothers and Connie sometimes despaired, for she could play her father like a fiddle. Today she was dressed in a fine dark-green velvet riding habit with a little matching hat perched at a jaunty angle on her fair curls and she was slapping a small leather whip against her palm.
‘I’m going for a ride on Bracken,’ she informed her mother with a frown.
Connie raised an eyebrow. ‘So why are you looking so miserable then?’ Unlike Johnny, she tried her hardest to keep her daughter’s feet on the ground and not let her get ideas above her station.
‘Because it’s raining!’ Leonora sulked and Connie laughed aloud.
‘Well, even you can’t command the weather, miss. If it bothers you that much don’t go out in it.’
‘But I’m bored!’ Leonora pouted.
‘Poor you!’ Connie’s expression hardened. ‘Perhaps I should find you something useful to do then? How about you help young Eliza with her chores? Or you could perhaps go and give a hand in the laundry or the kitchen.’
Leonora looked horrified and turned and flounced out of the room. Connie shook her head apologetically as she glanced at Mrs Bainbridge. ‘I’m sorry about that. I’m afraid that little madam is getting a bit too big for her boots. I blame her father. George is no better.’ She sighed but then, remembering what they were supposed to be doing, she turned her attention back to the task in hand.
Leonora meanwhile was stamping through the kitchen and seeing Marcie she paused to stare at her. ‘You’re new, aren’t you?’ she asked imperiously as if she was addressing a peasant and Marcie flushed as she placed the clean pile of plates she’d just washed onto the table.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Yes, I am, miss, when you address me!’
Marcie clamped her teeth together to stop herself from saying something she shouldn’t, but then as Leonora continued to stare at her she answered reluctantly, ‘Yes, I am … miss.’
‘Hmm, then let’s just hope you don’t decide to run away with the junior groom as your predecessor did,’ Leonora barked nastily and walked on with her nose in the air.
‘Don’t take no notice of her,’ the cook said when the girl was out of earshot and crossing the yard towards the stable block. ‘She’s always been a bit of a madam, has Miss Leonora, but you’ll be fine so long as you give her a wide berth.’
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Marcie said huffily. ‘Just who does she think she is anyway?’
‘She’s the daughter of the man who pays your wages and you’d do well to remember it,’ the cook advised shortly. Inside, Marcie was simmering. The stuck-up little minx, talking to her like that! But then she smiled slyly. Very soon now, when George informed the family of his intention to marry her, the girl’s smile would be on the other side of her face and Marcie could hardly wait.
Late that night when Eliza was finally asleep, Marcie crept cautiously down the stairs, feeling her way in the dark and praying that she wouldn’t fall. It was too risky to bring a candle so she went down carefully. At last she reached the kitchen door and after quietly unlocking it she sneaked across the yard and into the stable block. The smell of horses and fresh hay greeted her and she stood for a moment letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
‘Psst, Marcie I’m here … over by the ladder to the hayloft.’
Marcie’s face broke into a wide smile as she picked her way through the darkness towards the voice, then suddenly she was in his arms and he was kissing her face, her brow or any part of her that he could.
‘Wait until we’re up in the loft,’ she told him breathlessly, and without another word she turned to the ladder, gathered her skirts into a bunch in one hand and began to climb. She could hear him right behind her, his breath coming in short, excited gasps and her heart beat faster. Once they had reached the top he pushed her impatiently and as she toppled into the soft hay she began to giggle as he clawed at her clothes.
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come,’ he breathed as his hand found its way to the soft skin above her stocking top.
‘I had to wait until Eliza fell asleep,’ she answered as she lowered her hand to the bulge in his trousers and began to tease him.
‘Ah, Marcie.’ He groaned like a man in pain as he began to fumble with the buttons on her work dress. ‘You’re enough to drive a chap wild!’
She grinned in the darkness, enjoying the power she could wield over him, but then her breasts were bared and her passion rose to match his.
Much later, she struggled from beneath him and fumbled in the darkness for her clothes, which had been hastily discarded in his need for her.
‘I ought to go,’ she muttered, her euphoric mood gone. ‘It’s all right for you but I have to be up early in the morning. You didn’t tell me what hard work this was going to be when you suggested I apply for the job here.’
He traced a finger lazily down her bare back as she yanked her stockings on. The hay had made her naked skin itchy, her face was sore from the slight stubble on his chin and her mouth was bruised from his kisses. ‘My hands are red raw,’ she grumbled. ‘And Cook never lets up – it’s do this, do that, all day long!’
He chuckled. ‘It won’t be for ever,’ he soothed. He tried to pull her back towards him but this time she pushed his hands away as tears trembled on her lashes.
‘It had better not be,’ she answered in a wobbly voice. ‘Because I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up. I’m worn out already.’
‘Look,’ he placated her. ‘I’ll start to go in to work with Father soon and when he sees that I’m trying then we can make it known that we have feelings for each other.’
‘When is soon?’ she turned her face towards him. ‘And do you really think there’s any chance for us. Your father obviously has high hopes of all his children making a good marriage. I can’t see him being pleased when he finds out you’ve taken up with a kitchen maid!’
‘You forget that both my parents are from common working stock,’ George reminded her. ‘Just leave it to me. Mother will support us, I know she will.’ She could hear the annoyance in his voice and decided she had pushed him far enough for now. But she wasn’t done with him yet, not by a long chalk!
He stood up and she heard him foraging for his clothes in the hay. As soon as they were both dressed, they clambered down the ladder. At the door to the stables, as the moonlight played on his fair hair and his handsome face, her annoyance faded. But she knew it was unwise to dawdle. It wouldn’t do if they were seen together until the time was right so she kissed him quickly and took her leave.
As she crept up the stairs to the servants’ quarters, the grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight and she started. Her heart was in her mouth in case anyone should hear her. When she reached the door to the room that she shared with Eliza she stood for a moment, straining her ears into the darkness but all was silent so she gingerly stepped inside.
‘Where the ’ell ’ave you been?’ Eliza’s quiet voice almost made her jump out of her skin. ‘If you’ve been out wi’ some bloke or another an’ Mrs Bainbridge finds out she’ll ’ave yer guts fer garters.’
‘I know,’ Marcie said humbly. ‘But I wasn’t with a bloke. I … I just needed some fresh air. I think I must be feelin’ a bit homesick. I ain’t never been away from me family before.’
‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Eliza was sympathetic now. ‘Never mind, it’ll get easier.’
It had better, Marcie thought grimly. She’d never known hard work before, for she’d always managed to twist her mother around her little finger and then Nessie had taken on the lion’s share of running their home when their mother died. Reuben hadn’t been so easy to con though. But that was in the past now. George was her future and sometime very soon she intended to marry him. She would soon be sixteen – quite old enough to wed. She smiled as she discarded her dress, imagining what it would be like to be waited on and pampered. To ride in the family carriage and wear jewels and fine clothes. Just for an instant she was tempted to confide in Eliza but then thought better of it. She buried herself beneath the scratchy blankets and curled into a tight little ball, trying to get warm. Soon she would be lying on silken sheets with a stone hot-water bottle tucked at her feet and a fire roaring up her bedroom chimney. On that happy thought, she fell asleep.