A Mistress for Stansted Hall (5 page)

Within half a mile she knew the answer, the hideous sound of a donkey braying in a paddock that adjoined a row of cottages was obviously the attraction. Laughing she drew rein. ‘Silly fellow, I shall let you speak to your friend but then I'm afraid we must go to the village. We shall have nothing to eat if I don't make my purchases this morning.’

To her astonishment the donkey appeared to answer. ‘You'll not get him away from here in a hurry, missus, you'll need a crust to tempt him.’ This speech was followed by a head appearing over the hedge. It was a young man in shirt sleeves.

‘I am Mrs Reed, the new housekeeper at Stansted Manor. Are these cottages part of the estate?’

‘They are, madam. William Everett, at your service. High time someone took charge up there. If you would care to wait a moment, I'll come out with a bit of bread and bribe your pony.’

This friendly exchange had attracted a small circle of spectators. None of them looked in dire straits, the children smiling, the women also. Amongst the matrons she saw at least two girls who would be ideal as maids. Had she been brought here by a higher authority to find the staff she needed? Where better than amongst Mr Bucknall's own people?

‘I am looking to take on staff. I can promise things will be different there from now on. I need two kitchen maids, two parlourmaids and two inside men. There will be further opportunities for employment later, I am sure.’

A ripple of excitement ran around the small group. William immediately came to stand beside her. ‘I am recently back from Belgium, Mrs Reed, where I served as a manservant to an officer until he died last month from wounds he received at Waterloo. I have excellent references.’

Emma tied the reins around the post and stepped down to face the eager crowd. ‘William, you are exactly the person I was hoping to find. Mr Bucknall requires a manservant, he doesn't know that is what he needs, but between us we will convince him. I need someone else who is young and fit.’ She scanned the group, there was no one immediately caught her eye. Then she saw an older man, his eyes pleading, but too proud to beg.

‘You, would you be prepared to do heavy work inside? I am not looking for a footman, but someone who can assist with cleaning windows and such tasks as that.’

The man stepped forward and tugged his forelock. ‘I'm happy to do anything, like Billy there I was a soldier until paid-off. Jed Jones at your service, madam.’

As William turned the cart Emma selected four women plus one Betty Turner, who was an experienced cook, so everyone told her. Two were little more than girls, they would do in the kitchen, the others were of mature years, they would be ideal as maids of all work. All of them were eager to start immediately, promised they would gather their belongings and set off within the hour.

One of the girls, Tilly, offered to accompany her to the village. ‘Jenna can bring my things, Mrs Reed, we don't have much between us. If I come with you I can help you with your purchases.’

The pony, she had discovered his name was Bruno, set off at a spanking pace. He'd achieved his aim of visiting his friend and was now ready to transport them to the village in the shortest possible time. None of the people she'd taken on had asked about conditions of service or their remuneration. But then neither had she asked for more than their word as a reference. Heaven knows what Mr Bucknall would say at her temerity. Her lips twitched, the good Lord moved in mysterious ways, very likely he had caused her employer to be incapacitated for just this very reason.

Although nobody looked hungry, no doubt like all the other country folk they were finding times hard with corn prices being so high and the lack of employment now that so many landowners had enclosed their fields.

With the cart laden to the brim with necessities she returned to Stansted Manor. The church clock struck mid-day, she had been gone for three hours. She had never left her children alone for so long. She prayed Jack had not got into mischief in her absence and that her employer never recalled how he came to injure himself.

Chapter Five

Outside the Manor the eight villagers she had taken on were waiting patiently for her arrival. Jack was dancing around firing questions at the group, Mary stood talking quietly to Betty. They immediately formed in two straight lines, as if she were the mistress of the house and not a servant like themselves.

Jack hurled himself into her arms as she descended from the trap. ‘Mama, have all these people come to help you? Does that mean you will not be so busy now?’

She kissed him and ruffled his hair. ‘I am never too busy for you and Mary, my love. However, I am hoping I will now have time in the afternoon to resume your schoolwork. It's far too long since you and Mary spent time with your books.’

‘We don't have any books, do we, Mama? I'm glad about that, I'd much rather be playing.’

‘Quiet now, Jack. I must organise these new helpers, they have been waiting for too long already.’

William, who seemed a natural leader, soon had the goods unloaded and brought into the kitchen. Betty, who must now be known as Mrs Turner although she was a spinster, took little time to discover where the items would be best placed. This left Emma to conduct the remaining women to the attics. She prayed as she ascended the narrow wooden staircase that the accommodation would be usable.

She emerged into a spacious landing, quite big enough to be used as a recreational area with the addition of a few sticks of furniture and some rag rugs. ‘I have not had the time to come up and examine these chambers. It does not seem too bad so far.’

Tilly turned to the others. ‘It's grand, madam. Better than sharing a bed with three of my sisters, I can tell you.’

‘In which case I shall leave you to sort things out for yourselves. It is only three years since this house was fully staffed, there must be not only linen and bedding, but also aprons and caps, at the very least.’ Emma smiled at the group and they all curtsied. ‘Kindly return downstairs as soon as you are done here. I believe that male servants sleep elsewhere, I shall send William in search of those rooms later.’

Foster was waiting for her when she emerged into the passageway that connected the various rooms in the basement. ‘Madam, Doctor Andrews has repaired the gash in the master's head. He has given him laudanum to help him rest; I had to put it in the master's wine or he would not have taken it.’

‘I have brought back a young man who is experienced as a gentleman's valet. He will take care of Mr Bucknall now. Where is the master? I take it he is not in the study.’

The old man shook his head vigorously. ‘He's in my bedchamber, Mrs Reed. I have moved upstairs for the present. We couldn't carry him up the stairs safely.’

A flicker of apprehension ran through her at the thought that this formidable gentleman was but two doors down from her bedchamber. ‘That will make it far simpler to take care of him. However, I shall get the master suite cleaned and made ready. Mr Bucknall will, I am sure, not wish to remain in his study now we have sufficient staff to take care of him upstairs.’

The butler muttered to himself; she did not catch the whole of it, but was certain he was saying her employer would do as he pleased regardless of her best efforts. He shuffled off leaving her to return to the kitchen and see how matters progressed there.

At dusk Emma eventually had a few moments to herself. The children were sound asleep, the staff eating their own supper in the kitchen and Mr Bucknall also sleeping peacefully. William had volunteered to spend the night at his side but she had refused his offer. On checking for herself she had discovered her employer to have no sign of fever, no fresh blood seeping through the clean bandage around his head. He was obviously well on the way to recovery.

Her first task today had been to set the staff to cleaning the study, it had been a herculean effort, but the job was done. When Mr Bucknall returned to his lair he would find it greatly improved. The filthy drapes had been removed and replaced with clean ones found in a well-stocked linen cupboard on the first floor. The room had been scrubbed from top to bottom, the windows left wide open; he would scarcely recognize it as the place where he had wallowed in self pity these past years.

Tilly had suggested the girls cleaned the private parlour and dressing room that made up the apartment given to the housekeeper. These had been cluttered with debris, but were now fresh and smelling of beeswax. A narrow bed had been carried down from the nursery floor and put in the dressing room. Emma now had her own bedchamber, albeit a third of the size of the one she had allocated to her offspring. It had been suggested the children move into the dressing room, but she would not hear of it. Her children always came first where possible.

Mr Foster's apartment was as comprehensive as hers, William had made short work of putting that in order. The butler did not stand on ceremony, and seemed perfectly content to sleep on the male side of the house until his master was able to return to his own bedchamber. The master suite was also pristine, the bed made up, the discarded garments collected and taken to the laundry.

All in all it had been a satisfactory day. If Mr Bucknall had been
compos mentis
none of the rearrangements could have taken place. His accident had benefited everyone including himself. Mr Foster had told her the master never went to bed because he suffered terrible nightmares.

Today he had been sleeping in a bed without any signs of restlessness. It must have been lack of sleep that made him so irritable, it was possible he would be more amenable in the morning.

Mrs Turner had proved to be an excellent choice as cook. The evening meal had been quite delicious. Roast chicken with fresh vegetables from the garden followed by a strawberry tart and thick cream. She had eaten it in her parlour, the staff found it inhibiting having her amongst them.

There had been no problem of this sort at her previous employment, she and the housekeeper had eaten with the large staff. Of course, as a senior servant, she had sat at the head of the table but, apart from that, she was treated no differently from anyone else. The hierarchy below stairs was as rigid as that above. Everyone had a place and woe betide them if they did not stick to it.

With luck Mr Bucknall would remain in his bed tomorrow morning until the doctor had been. He was due to attend at eleven o'clock, so she had been told. This would give ample time to familiarise herself with the rest of the house. She had already been in the drawing room where Mary had found pleasure in the piano, it was a grand room but one she believed Mr Bucknall would not use. When it had been cleaned to her satisfaction she would have the furniture put under holland covers.

There was a delightful room, known as the yellow drawing room, which would be ideal. The breakfast room would be used as dining room; it would be nonsensical to use the grand dining room and seat him on his own at a table that could easily accommodate more than thirty.

It remained to be seen if Mr Bucknall would acquiesce to her plans. She hoped that when he saw how pleasant the house was he would accept the changes without losing his temper. If he bellowed at any of the young girls they would turn tail. She had warned them to be as unobtrusive as possible, to do their duties early in the morning or when they knew that their master was elsewhere.

A light tap on the door roused her from her reverie. Tilly appeared. ‘I've come for your tray, ma'am. Do you require anything else this evening?’

‘Thank you, no, tell Cook it was delicious. Once the kitchen is cleared, if Mr Foster has no requirements, then you are all free for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow the men must clear the servants' hall so that you will have somewhere of your own to sit in your free time.’

Slowly the great house settled into silence. The small brass clock that was her pride and joy chimed midnight. Emma was too excited to sleep, she would go to the kitchen and make herself a hot drink. A soothing cup of milk with cinnamon and sugar would do the trick.

It was a balmy night, a full moon streamed in through the windows making a candle unnecessary. However, it was likely to be dark in the corridor so she had best take a candlestick with her. She had removed her cap and apron long ago, her feet bare beneath her skirts. She did not possess indoor slippers, her boots had to do for both inside and out and it was far cooler without them.

The nightingales were filling in the air with their song, there must be a dozen birds at least to make such a wondrous chorus. She was smiling as she glided into the kitchen and came face-to-face with Mr Bucknall.

‘I did not expect to see you up, sir, you should have rung. You should not be wondering about so soon after your accident.’

His teeth flashed white in the gloom. ‘What would be the point of ringing when there is no one here to answer apart from yourself and old Foster?’

Was this the time to tell him she had appointed a manservant to take care of him? Perhaps not, she would much prefer this news to be relayed to him in the daytime when there were others in the vicinity. ‘If you would care to be seated, Mr Bucknall, I will get you whatever it is you have come looking for.’

He swung out a chair with one hand and dropped into it. ‘I could smell bread baking from my chamber. I should like some of that and anything else there is to go with it. I can't remember how long it is since I had bread baked in my own kitchen.’

She collected a platter on which she placed several slices of the chicken, chutney, three thick slices of bread and a generous pat of freshly churned butter. She could not understand how there could be any of the chicken left when there was so many to feed. There was also a generous wedge of strawberry tart to go with his impromptu supper.

As she carried the tray through she realised that these items had been given only to herself and her children, no one else had eaten them. Her eyes pricked, it was a long time since anyone had treated her with such kindness.

In her short absence he had been busy lighting candles and the kitchen was now bathed in a warm glow. She could not help but be aware that he had a fresh white shirt on, but no cravat and the strong column of his neck was clearly visible. She scarcely noticed the puckered skin on the right-hand side, this was part of him, nothing to be bothered by. She had seen far worse injuries in the time she had spent on the continent; most wives and loved ones were just grateful their men survived in whatever shape or form.

‘Here you are, sir. I was going to make myself some hot milk, would you care for some?’

His snort of disgust made her laugh. ‘Cider or coffee – either will do.’

She had noticed a fresh flagon on the cool slate shelf in the larder. All desire for hot milk had now left her, she would give him his cider and then retreat to her own room is until he was done. Her bare toes curled at the thought of his reaction if he should realise how inappropriately she was a attired for someone who purported to be a respectable housekeeper.

The brimming tankard was placed beside his elbow, he nodded, his mouth too full to speak. He swallowed hastily. ‘I thank you, madam, do not let me detain you. I shall douse the candles myself before I retire.’

She remembered the changes she had made to his domain. How could she prevent him from returning there tonight? The thought of the house in uproar, her children woken from their slumber, was not a prospect she relished. ‘It was so kind of Mr Foster to vacate his chamber for you, Mr Bucknall. He has been obliged to remove to the attic in order to find somewhere to sleep.’ Hopefully reminding him that he was not the only one in the house, that others had needs and sensitivities to be considered, might keep him where he was for tonight at least.

His eyes narrowed, becoming almost black as he digested her remark. When he spoke her confidence shrivelled. ‘I am the master here, Mrs Reed, it is your place, and his, to accommodate my every wish if you care to remain in my employ. You would do well to remember it if you wish to remain here above a se'night.’

With flaming cheeks she curtsied. ‘I understand exactly, sir. You have made it perfectly clear. If you require nothing else of me, I will bid you good night.’

She backed out, forgetting to take her candlestick in her hurry to depart. Twice on her return to her apartment she stubbed her bare toe in the darkness. Her humiliation had turned to anger long before she scrambled into bed. The only positive aspect of the unpleasant encounter had been that he had talked of her staying for two weeks, that was a great improvement on demanding that she left in the morning.

*

Rupert cursed his bad temper as the lovely young woman fled from him. He had been taken aback by seeing her toes peeping from beneath her hem, a glimpse of her slender ankles had almost unmanned him making him unnecessarily harsh. Since Amy had died he had not once thought of finding himself another wife, thought himself past redemption, too damaged in body and spirit to make an acceptable husband.

But from nowhere this young widow had appeared and feelings he'd thought long gone were stirring within him. Hard times had brought her here, she was a lady born and bred, would not be working as a servant otherwise. She had been here barely two days and already he felt his world shifting beneath his feet as though he no longer had control over his own destiny. He had vowed never to love again, to do so would only lead to further grief and heartache.