‘Eeh, I’m all in, an’ that’s a fact,’ Cook said as she lowered herself into the fireside chair and kicked her slippers off. Her feet felt as if they were on fire.
Marcie pouted bitterly as she carried yet another pile of dirty pots from the table to the sink. She felt as if she was fighting a losing battle because as fast as she managed to wash them, the maids delivered another lot and she was beginning to think that she would be standing there all night!
The Dorseys were giving a party and by the sounds that were echoing along the hallway they were all having a whale of a time. The maids had been scurrying to and from the dining room all day, laying the table with the mistress’s finest china and silverware. Mid-afternoon, Cook had allowed her to slip along to take a peep at the table and the sight of the glittering cut-glass goblets, the snow-white napkins and the vases full of fresh hothouse flowers had almost taken her breath away. It had also made her feel bitterly resentful. If only George would tell his family that he loved her then she would be in there with them instead of skivvying here in the kitchen while he enjoyed himself.
She winced as she angrily plunged her sore hands into yet another sinkful of hot water. The Dorseys had had some friends of the family staying with them for three days now and during that time George hadn’t managed to slip away to see her once, which had further added to her bitterness. Even worse was the fact that one of the maids had confided to the kitchen staff that the friends had a rather pretty daughter who had been flirting shamelessly with George. Her name was Belinda, by all accounts, and George took her riding each morning. She knew that because the junior groom had told them so the night before during supper. Marcie had been so affected by the news that she hadn’t been able to swallow a single morsel and she felt if she didn’t see him soon she would burst with rage. What did he think he was playing at anyway? It was her he loved so why was he going out riding with this damned Belinda?
‘When you’ve finished those pots yer can put the kettle on an’ make me a nice cup o’ tea.’ Cook’s voice interrupted her angry thoughts and Marcie scowled. Stick a brush up me arse an’ I’ll sweep the floor at the same time, why don’t you? she thought as she slammed yet another dinner plate into the water. Five courses they’d served at dinner and four at lunchtime and she felt as if she’d spent the last few days doing nothing but preparing vegetables and washing up. She’d be glad when the Lewises left and woe betide George when she did get to see him an’ all! Riding out with that hussy every morning, indeed!
The sound of a sweet, girlish voice echoed down the hallway, further adding to Marcie’s sense of injustice.
‘Cor, that Miss Belinda ’as got the voice of an angel!’ Eliza declared as she came into the kitchen bearing yet another tray full of dirty pots, which earned her a glare from Marcie. Just for the duration of the Lewises’ stay, Eliza had been promoted to waiting on tables at mealtimes and she was making the most of it. She felt like the bee’s knees in her pretty frilled apron and mop cap and her smart black dress.
‘So what’s up wi’ your face, then?’ Eliza asked Marcie as she caught the girl glaring at her but Marcie merely shrugged and turned her attention back to what she was doing. The kitchen had been as hot as a furnace all day with the many pots and pans Cook had had bubbling away on the range and now Marcie’s dress was stuck to her with sweat and the hair that had escaped from her cap was straggling damply on her forehead and at the nape of her neck. She was ready to drop with exhaustion but she knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to rest until the kitchen was cleaned to Cook’s satisfaction. Just for a second she felt like throwing off her apron and walking away from it all. This was so much harder than she had ever expected it to be.
It was past ten o’clock by the time Marcie wearily climbed the stairs to her bed with no chance of seeing George again. Eliza was still downstairs serving drinks and snacks and by the time she retired Marcie knew that she would be fast asleep. Ah well, she thought, with a little tingle of satisfaction, it’ll serve George right if he slips across to the stables and I’m not there. She was so tired that she didn’t even bother to wash, she merely threw her clothes across the back of the chair, slipped into her nightgown and slid into bed and within seconds of her head hitting the pillow she was fast asleep.
‘Take that bundle of drying cloths to the laundry room. The way we’re usin’ ’em we’ll be runnin’ short at this rate,’ Cook instructed Marcie the next morning. ‘Then come back and get stuck into the breakfast pots afore yer start preparing the vegetables for lunch.’
With a martyred sigh, Marcie collected the cloths together. Once again, she had been up since five thirty and already she was tired with another long day stretching ahead of her. Her hands were so dry that they had cracked during the night and now they were sore and bleeding. Eliza had told her to dip them in the chamber pot saying that urine was good for sore hands but Marcie had blanched at the thought. No, she decided, she’d wait until she next went into town where she would buy some ointment for them.
As she stepped out into the bitterly cold morning she heard laughter and gazing through the thick fog she was just able to distinguish Belinda Lewis standing next to one of the Dorseys’ fine horses. She was dressed in a stunning maroon riding habit and a matching feathered hat and Marcie felt a stab of envy. Belinda was laughing at something someone had said and the next second Marcie’s heart started to race as she saw that it was George. He too was dressed for riding and as she watched he lifted Belinda into the side saddle and smiled up at her. Marcie’s hand flew to her mouth as the cloths she had been carrying fluttered to the floor, but she was oblivious to everything except the scene before her. Belinda and George looked for all the world like a couple in love and jealousy ripped through her. George mounted his horse, a magnificent coal-black stallion, and before Marcie could move they began to trot towards her. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at him; just once their eyes briefly met but he looked quickly away and then they had gone by her.
‘Why are servants so stupid?’ she heard Belinda trill with a laugh. ‘We could have mowed that silly girl down in this fog.’
George laughed and made some reply but Marcie couldn’t hear what it was for the sound of the horses’ hooves clattering on the cobbles. Blinking back tears she bent to retrieve the cloths before hurrying on to the laundry room.
‘Eeh, somebody got out o’ bed the wrong side this mornin’ lookin’ at the face on yer,’ the laundry maid commented when Marcie dumped the cloths unceremoniously next to the sink. Marcie ignored her and turning about she strode back to the kitchen with her mind all over the place. George will have some explaining to do when I next speak to him, she fumed silently. She was so angry that she even forgot about her sore hands for a time.
It was Eliza who informed them all that the Lewises would be leaving the following day and Marcie felt a rush of relief. Just one more day to get through and then hopefully she and George could take up where they had left off – after he had explained himself that was!
Once more it was past ten o’clock before Marcie was able to stagger up to bed again. The whole day had passed in a blur of scurrying here and there, preparing vegetables, washing and drying pots and dancing to Cook’s tune. But at least now she knew that the guests would be leaving the next day.
‘They’ve just gone,’ Molly the parlour maid informed the kitchen staff mid-morning the next day. It was a bitterly cold and foggy day. ‘An’ while I was helping to load their luggage into the carriage I overheard Mrs Lewis invite the master and mistress to go and stay with ’em for Christmas. Eeh, wouldn’t it be grand if the mistress decides to take ’em up on their offer. We left here could have a right easy time of it.’
‘Did she just invite the master and mistress?’ Marcie asked worriedly.
‘From what I could gather the invite was for the whole family.’ Molly helped herself to a scone fresh out of the oven and got a smack on the hand from Cook, who had just put them on a rack on the table to cool. ‘They have a town house in London, apparently, and I heard the mistress say how nice it would be for Miss Leonora to be able to mix with young people her age there. I think they mentioned having a coming-out ball for her.’
Marcie relaxed a little. Surely George wouldn’t want to go along to something like that? He would need to stay at home to help his father keep his businesses running, particularly if the mistress and Lenora were planning on being away for any length of time. She would find out that very night, she decided. George was sure to come and meet her now that the guests had left. She began to feel a little better.
‘Oh, and you should have seen Mr George saying his goodbyes to Miss Belinda. He held on to her hand as if he never wanted to let it go.’
‘Really?’ Cook looked surprised.
‘Well, from what I can gather the two families have known each other since the children were babies and I think they’ve always hoped that Miss Belinda and George would get married when they were old enough. Stands to reason the master would be pleased about it, don’t it? The Lewises are rollin’ in money, by all accounts.’
The colour left Marcie’s face like water down a drain and the next second the fine china dinner plate she had been in the process of drying slid through her fingers and smashed into a thousand pieces on the flagstones.
‘Butter fingers!’ Cook scolded sharply. ‘That were from one o’ the mistress’s best dinner sets. Any more breakages, my girl, an’ I’ll see as you pay for ’em out o’ yer wages. Now get it cleaned up and be more careful.’
Feeling sick at heart, Marcie scuttled away to fetch a broom. Surely what Molly had heard, or thought she had heard, must be wrong. George loved her, she was sure of it. Even so, she barely managed to drag herself through the rest of the day and couldn’t wait for the night to come when hopefully she would finally get to see him again.
Thankfully she and Eliza were allowed to retire much earlier that evening and after the hard few days they’d had, Eliza was asleep and snoring softly within minutes. It was bitterly cold in their attic room and as Marcie crept out of bed her breath hung on the air like fine lace. Within no time she was speeding across the yard to the stables and once inside she stood quite still, listening. Other than the horses snickering softly in their stalls it was silent so she pulled her shawl more tightly about her and leaned against the wall to wait.
Within minutes her teeth were chattering with cold and she began to march up and down to try to keep warm, cursing George beneath her breath. Where the hell was he, blast him! He would know that she was there waiting for him and now that the guests were gone there was no excuse for him to keep away. The time ticked by until at last she had to reluctantly admit to herself that he wasn’t coming. Eventually she wearily made her way back to her room and once in bed she cried herself to sleep.
The following afternoon, as she was standing at the kitchen sink, she glimpsed George heading for the stables and making the excuse to the cook that she needed to use the privy she shot off after him.
‘George … George!’ she hissed and turning about he frowned as he saw her beckoning to him. After glancing about to ensure that no one was watching he marched across to her, slapping his riding whip irritably against his high riding boots. Instantly she yanked him into the quiet of the dairy room and demanded, ‘What the hell is going on? I waited and waited for you last night in the stables but you didn’t come!’ Her eyes were flashing fire and she looked so angry that he took a step back from her.
‘I wasn’t aware that we’d arranged to meet,’ he said coldly and her heart sank.
‘B-but we always meet there when you’ve no visitors,’ she stammered, suddenly feeling uncertain before growing angry again. ‘Molly saw you kiss that girl as they were leaving,’ she spat accusingly.
‘What if I did?’ He shrugged. ‘Our parents are lifelong friends and we’ve grown up together. Why shouldn’t I kiss an old friend goodbye and wish her a safe journey? I’m surprised at such a petty show of jealousy. Don’t you trust me?’
Marcie’s temper ebbed away and she felt foolish. ‘Of course I do and I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘Shall we meet tonight?’
He nodded, clearly impatient to be off, then turning on his heel he was gone without a second glance.
Throughout the rest of the day, Marcie’s emotions were in turmoil. She was afraid that George was tiring of her but if he thought he was going to get away from her that easily he was mistaken. As she began to calm down she cold-heartedly began to hatch a plan. She had always used a sponge when they made love, which she had assured him was sure to prevent her getting pregnant. But what if she were to stop taking precautions?
That evening, he arrived at the stables as promised, but she instantly sensed a difference in him. Normally his hands were all over her the second they met but tonight he sat on the hay in the loft above the stables with his arms crossed across his chest.
‘I think we ought to slow down a little,’ he said after a while. ‘I fear we’ve rushed into this relationship a little too hastily and we want to be sure, don’t we?’
‘Sure of what?’ Her hand snaked up his leg and she began to unbutton his flies. ‘We’re good together, you know we are, and I love you.’
He was tense for a few moments but then she heard his breathing deepen and seconds later he began to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse. ‘Of course we are.’
Suddenly he was his normal, charming self again as he eased her back onto the hay. His breathing became even more erratic as she fondled him through the material of his trousers with one hand and slowly undid the buttons on her blouse with the other, exposing her naked breasts. And then he thrust her hand away, struggling with his flies as he forced her legs apart and fell on her.
‘Say you love me,’ she said as his hands probed between her legs. ‘Say it!’
He hesitated and then, ‘Of course I do, you silly girl, now shut up and let me prove it.’
Marcie smiled to herself as she did just that, lying compliant beneath him.