Despite Will’s cussing, the man kept a firm grip on us all the way down the path. I stayed quiet. The dog nosed around our ankles and would’ve sunk its teeth in at a moment’s bidding, but it didn’t scare me. Because as we walked, this queer, calm feeling came over me, like I’d been tied with an invisible thread and someone at the Hall was on the other end of it, reeling me in. There was no going back.
We went downhill until a high wall rose up before us. There we stopped in front of a doorway. The man pushed it open with his elbow.
‘Get in there,’ he grunted.
We stumbled into a dim courtyard, lit only by a few lamps at the windows. I guessed dusk wasn’t that far off, but the great buildings themselves seemed to block out what daylight was left. As my eyes got used to the gloom, I saw railings and steps leading down below ground.
‘Down ’ere. Both of you. And don’t move!’
The man flung us forward. We tumbled down the flight of steps. I landed on my knees at the bottom, and found myself facing yet another doorway. Will was stood a few feet away, rubbing his hands and muttering under his breath. The man and his dog had gone.
‘You all right, Tilly?’
My knees stung as I stood up. ‘Think so. Where’s he gone to then?’
‘To fetch Lord Barrington, I reckon,’ said Will. ‘We’re for it; you know that, don’t you?’
I could handle a thrashing, if that’s what he meant. I bet my ma hit harder than most men, anyway. I squared my shoulders and smoothed down my frock. If this was my chance to meet Lord Barrington then I wanted to look neat, at least.
The door flew open. But it wasn’t Lord Barrington, not in the slightest. It was a woman. She was tall with hair piled high on her head, wearing full skirts and a wide-shouldered blouse. A great bunch of keys hung at her hip.
‘Will Potter,’ said a voice I knew from somewhere. ‘Delivering meat is one thing, but roaming the estate is quite another. And twice in two days! This is trespassing of the highest order . . .’
Her words trailed off as she saw me.
‘You again,’ she said.
Staring back at me was the same pinched face I’d seen here on Sunday. She was the housekeeper, Mrs Jessop. And she didn’t seem any friendlier today.
I spoke before Will got the chance. ‘We took the wrong path, that’s all.’
‘You’d do well to lose that tone, young lady,’ she said, eyeing me coldly.
‘Please excuse Tilly, Mrs Jessop,’ said Will. ‘She don’t always know her manners.’
I jabbed him in the ribs.
‘Ouch!’
Mrs Jessop raised her hand for silence. ‘Both of you listen carefully. You won’t be whipped because his Lordship is leaving shortly on business. Though if it were down to me, I’d have you flogged right away.’
‘So we in’t seeing him, then?’ I said, spirits sinking. I’d been hoping for a quick peek, at least.
She glared at me. ‘No, you are not! You’ll be working your punishment instead. I’m one maid down since Gracie Waite is sick in bed.’
‘Gracie’s sick?’ said Will. ‘Is she badly?’
So he knew this Gracie person too. I bet she was another simpering half-wit. They seemed drawn to Will Potter like flies.
‘It’s nothing to concern yourself with,’ said Mrs Jessop.
‘Right. Well then. I’ve got to get back to the village. Reckon I’m already late,’ said Will, looking worried of a sudden.
But the idea of working here thrilled me. What a chance this was! I’d get to see inside Kit’s home, to meet people who’d known him. Heck, my plan to get closer to the real Kit Barrington was turning out better than I’d hoped.
I fixed Will with such a look he apologised at once. ‘Beg pardon, Mrs Jessop,’ he muttered. ‘Didn’t mean to sound off.’
‘And you’d do well to stay quiet,’ she said. ‘First trespassing, and now trying to shirk punishment. What on earth would your father say?’
He looked up sharply. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’
‘Won’t I? This sort of behaviour hardly looks good for his business. Maybe we’ll have to go elsewhere for our meat.’
‘Please. Don’t say that.’ His voice was tight. ‘You’re our best, most finest customer. Her Ladyship’s ordered from us for years.’
‘Will . . .’ I tried to stop him but he shrugged me off.
‘We need the custom! I’ll do anything! Please!’
Mrs Jessop raised her hand. This time Will was having none of it.
‘It weren’t me! She made me come here with her stupid ideas!’
I realised then that he was pointing right at me.
‘Why you filthy low-down worm!’ I said and went to wallop him. He stepped back just in time, so my fist whizzed past his ear.
‘Enough! The pair of you!’ Mrs Jessop cried.
Shooting each other the darkest of looks, we shifted apart, and right then I was glad of Mrs Jessop, since I’d have throttled him otherwise.
Damn Will Potter! Why the heck did I tell him anything?
‘All right,’ she said to Will. ‘You can clean out the hens.’
He nodded eagerly.
‘They’ll peck at you, and they haven’t been cleaned out in days,’ she added, wryly.
His face fell just a little. The sight of him being handed a pail and sent back up the steps made me feel much better. Chicken muck was just what he deserved.
‘And you can wipe that smirk off your face,’ Mrs Jessop said to me. ‘You’re going to the kitchens.’
She pulled me into the light and shut the door behind us.
As I stepped inside the Hall, all thoughts of Will vanished. My heart began to pound. Here I was in Kit’s house. Any minute I’d see the people who had cooked his meals, made up his fires. Any one of them might know something, even Mrs Jessop. But I had to be careful and not speak out of turn. Any questions could wait; I was in enough trouble already.
‘Keep up, I haven’t got all day,’ Mrs Jessop called over her shoulder.
I quickened my pace and looked about me. We were walking down a flagstone passageway, where gas jets flared on the walls and little high windows showed the falling snow outside. Many doors went off the passage: a laundry room full of drying clothes, a still room where someone was pouring ale into jugs, and a larger room full of gleaming glass and silver, with a fire burning in the grate. We stopped at this doorway. A man in a smart black suit was dusting glasses and placing them on a tray with great care. From the way Mrs Jessop addressed him, I guessed he was someone important. It was certainly different from how she spoke to me.
‘Mr Phelps, this young lady will be scrubbing the pots from luncheon, and there’s a boy outside doing the chickens.’ Mrs Jessop pushed me forward. ‘Tilly, this is Mr Phelps, the butler. He’s in charge here.’
Mr Phelps looked me over. ‘Extra hands, eh? Goodness, what luck! And where did you find them, Mrs Jessop?’
‘Up to no good, that’s where I found them. Wandering about like this was some sort of pleasure gardens, not a private estate.’
‘There’s nothing an honest day’s work can’t put straight,’ said Mr Phelps, frowning. ‘And we’ve plenty to do here.’
Mrs Jessop gave a curt nod. ‘Any bother and the strap’s where we always keep it.’ I must’ve looked like a startled rabbit because Mr Phelps gave me a tiny wink, then went back to his polishing.
‘Right you are, Mrs J., right you are,’ he said.
Back out in the passageway, we carried on through a set of glass doors and the heat of the kitchen hit me. A maid passed us carrying armfuls of plates. Up ahead, voices were shouting, ‘More ice, over here,’ and ‘Watch your back,’ and then ‘Clean that fat up, won’t you, before we break our necks.’ The clattering of pans and slamming of doors deafened me. Mrs Jessop stood aside as the same maid came back past, this time with a basket of vegetables. She had sleek brown hair, most of which was hidden by her cap. I was struck by how pretty she was.
‘Thank you, Mrs Jessop,’ she said politely.
‘I’m sorry you’re having to work down here today, Dorcas,’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘It’s not fitting for a head housemaid, but there we are.’
Then we followed her into the big kitchen itself.
The heat was stifling. Pans and kettles steamed away on a massive black range, and the opening and shutting of oven doors wafted even more hot air about the room. The space was huge and brightly lit, with a high ceiling and more little windows. A vast dresser stacked with basins and jugs covered an entire wall. The maid had joined another girl in a white pinafore. Together, they were sorting through the vegetables. The giant table and great tall ceiling seemed to dwarf them both. This space looked made for twenty kitchen hands, not just two.
We went up to a small woman in a waist apron who appeared to be the cook. She moved about like a whirlwind, though she stopped mid-clatter when she saw us.
‘This is Tilly,’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘She’s standing in for Gracie. Let her go when it’s our suppertime.’
Cook looked me up and down.
‘Scullery,’ she said and pointed to a door off the back of the kitchen. ‘Get your hands washed and I’ll be in to show you what’s what.’
I looked to Mrs Jessop but she was already making for the door. What an odd way of walking, I thought, watching her straight back and swaying skirts. Her feet could be on castors. Her keys don’t jangle at all.
After the kitchen, the scullery felt cool and quiet. Cook folded her arms and looked at me.
‘Now then missy, I’ve seen you before. You’re the girl Will brought in on Sunday, in’t you?’
I kept my eyes down.
‘Well, you look recovered, thankfully. But honestly, can’t you get enough of this place?’
I wasn’t sure quite what to say.
‘What was you up to this time, then?’
‘Nothing much,’ I said.
‘Oh come on, out with it. I in’t got all day!’ she said, but in a kindly way.
‘We was trespassing.’
Cook sighed. ‘Oh aye, Jake and his dog catch you then?’
I nodded. So the brute of a man had a name.
‘Stealing rabbits from his snares, was you?’
‘No!’ I said, sharply. ‘I never stole nothing!’
Cook laughed. ‘You must’ve been up to something.’
I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. So I said, ‘I’m to scrub pots as punishment.’
‘Why you want to fool around up here is anyone’s guess. And in this weather too!’ she said. ‘But do your work well and there might be a place for you. We’re always short of hands. Not many folk want to work here, these days.’ She saw the look on my face. ‘Don’t get too excited though. It in’t your job yet.’
But already my mind was racing. Who wouldn’t want to work in such a grand house as this? I’d bite their hand off for the chance. Nosing around here all day, I’d find out plenty about Kit. Such a job was sure to pay better than helping at school. And I might even make Ma proud, for once.
Cook told me to roll up my sleeves and gave me a cap and pinny to wear. Then she filled two pails, one with soapy water, one with clean. A shout came from the kitchen that something was burning and she made for the door.
‘The soft soap’s for the china, soda’s for the pans,’ she said, pointing to some jars on the windowsill. ‘And there’s sand and salt for the copper pans. Brings ’em up a treat. Now get your hands washed!’
The door swung to and I was on my own. The sink had hot running water. Hot running water! I turned the tap on-off-on-off just for the fun of it and washed my hands until the skin went pink. Then the pots started coming from the kitchen. I got to work as best I could. All the soaking and scrubbing quickly turned my hands raw and wrinkly like newborn mice. The hot water made me sweat and my hair kept escaping from under the cap. Bending over the sink made my back ache too. After an hour or more of it, I’d really had enough.
I was mighty glad to see Cook again, especially since she’d brought me a cup of tea and a pastry.
‘Get this down you,’ she said, noticing the scrubbed draining board and racks full of drying pots. ‘Haven’t you done well here?’
I gulped the tea and stuffed the pastry into my mouth. I was famished, and tired too. How could anyone scrub pots all day and not fall down dead in a heap?
I handed back the cap and apron.
‘If you’re lucky, you might need these again,’ said Cook.
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I began to wonder what I’d discover about Kit stuck in here all day with my nose in a pot.
‘This position what’s going,’ I said. ‘Is it only working in the kitchens?’
‘Not as such. It’s for a proper housemaid. It’d be a smashing job for a girl like you.’
‘Good,’ I said, relieved.
‘But things is topsy-turvy here. We’re so short-staffed, you’ll have to try your hand at all sorts.’
It was better than nothing, so I put on my best smile. ‘I’d do anything to work here, really I would.’
‘I can see that. Now get yourself off home.’
I was half out the back door when she called, ‘So where was it Jake caught you then? Go on, tell us.’
She’d been kind enough to me. It couldn’t hurt to say.
‘The Barringtons’ graveyard. Looking at the stone angel,’ I said.
Her face went pale. ‘Oh no! Not Master Kit’s grave? What on earth was you doing up there?’
The way she said it made me go cold. I’d have done better keeping my mouth shut.