Dangerous Decisions (9 page)

In the East End of London, Cora was fed up with the winter. Not that she ever had to face the damp mornings or the biting cold of early freezing winds as, since the age of fifteen, she had never risen before midday. In her profession the nights were a time for working, not sleeping. But she did like to get a breath of fresh air at some time of the day, and late afternoons would often find her wandering around the markets. Today had been an especially satisfying expedition and she let herself into the house clutching with triumph a pair of boots. Black and trimmed with silver, they showed scarcely a sign of wear. And they were kid leather too, a sure sign that they'd belonged to some lady of quality. Cora hadn't tried them on yet but she knew what to do if they were a bit tight. Stuff 'em with some damp brown paper and leave 'em for a couple of days – it never failed.

When she reached the landing she discovered that Belle had hired a new girl. Not that Cora was surprised – the room next to her own had been empty for a couple of weeks now which meant it wasn't earning its way. She paused at the half-open door to see a dark-haired girl hanging her clothes in the narrow wardrobe, her lips compressed with determination, her expression one of misery.

‘Cheer up, ducks. It ain't so bad.'

The girl turned, and her voice was tight. ‘You might not think so. I do.'

‘Never expected to end up in a place like this, is that it?'

‘I haven't got much choice.'

‘Same as the rest of us, then,' Cora said with a shrug. ‘I'm next door – the name's Cora Bates.'

‘Sybil Slater.'

Cora looked at her curiously. ‘First time then – in a place like this, I mean?'

‘That's right.'

‘Well, let me know if yer need anything.' Cora walked past and went into her own room thinking that at least this one seemed sober. The last occupant had been a right gin-soak; once Belle had found out that had been the end of her. Not that she frowned on the girls having a drop, she just objected to them drowning in the stuff.

Lacing up her new boots, Cora muttered, ‘Might 'ave been made for me,' and pleased, decided to wear them that evening. She was half hoping that Johnnie would appear. It was odd, but she missed him if he stayed away too long.

The new girl seemed to cling to Cora, but she didn't mind. She was glad of the company, even though Sybil couldn't half tell a tale. One rainy afternoon, when they were in Sybil's room, lying propped up in front of the pink satin headboard, Cora probed, ‘This chap, the one you say gave you all these silks and satins and jewellery, who was he, then?'

‘That's none of your business,' Sybil said shortly.

‘Fair enough.' Cora didn't like people knowing her business either. ‘But what I don't understand is, if you had all this stuff, how come you ended up here?'

‘Where I was living, he paid the rent, didn't he? Lovely little apartment, it was, in St John's Wood. It's very select there, you know. I had me own kitchen and everything. And I never went with anyone else, not once. But then one day he just gives me ten guineas, and bob's yer uncle. Said he had no need of our arrangement any more. So there I was, homeless, with all these clothes and things, and nowhere to put 'em.'

Cora had seen the meagre garments in Sybil's wardrobe. ‘So where are they all?'

‘Well, I got meself some cheap lodgings, then one day I came back to find the lot gone, money and everything! Even the bits of jewellery that I'd hid beneath me best corset. Course the old hag running the place pleaded ignorance, but I didn't dare send for the rozzers …'

‘I would 'ave done, the thieving cow!'

‘No you wouldn't,' Sybil said sharply. ‘They'd have asked a lot of questions, maybe even accused me of lying, of stealing the things meself.'

‘You could have told them the truth.'

Sybil shook her head. ‘I know for sure he used a false name. I always called him Gerald, but there were different initials on his wallet. I only saw it the once, just by chance. Anyway, it was no use crying over spilt milk so I cut me losses, made a few enquiries and heard about Belle's.'

‘I bet he's got married,' Cora decided. ‘That's if he wasn't already. He's probably bored to death in a big draughty house with some milksop miss.'

Sybil's laugh was bitter. ‘At least she will only have to satisfy one man, not like …'

‘I've told you, you'll get used to it.'

At Graylings, Mrs Birley presented Helena with three applicants for the post of her personal maid. ‘There were initially five, Mrs Faraday, but two were unsuitable.'

Helena wondered whether that had been because of their appearance or their lack of experience. From her observation of the indoor staff, the footmen were unfailingly good looking, the maids were fresh-faced and pretty, even Mrs Birley could be described as a handsome woman while the butler's leonine head would have graced any theatre. The only exception was Cook, whose round face resembled a currant bun. But it was unlikely that Oliver ever came into contact with her. Even Helena was reluctant to explore beyond the green baize door that separated the ‘downstairs' from the ‘upstairs'. Beatrice had emphasised that strongly. ‘Your presence will not be welcomed – it will be regarded as mistrust and interference, Helena. Just for once please be guided by someone with more experience. You are no longer a child to be pampered and fussed. You are their mistress, and they will expect you to know your place, in the same way that you expect them to know theirs.'

So Helena straightened her back and prepared to portray a dignified appearance as the first of the applicants was ushered into the morning room. This was a vital appointment because she didn't merely require someone to dress her hair, care for her clothes and advise her on which jewellery to wear. She needed an ally, someone who would be intensely loyal and who she could, if necessary, confide in.

A week later, Molly could only gaze with grudging admiration at the new member of staff as she took her seat at the long table in the Servants' Hall where, between the butler at the head and the cook at the other end, everyone else was placed in strict order of seniority. As Mrs Faraday's personal maid, Jane Forrester had been shown to the seat immediately on Mr Crossley's right, displacing the head parlourmaid. Mrs Birley, in view of her position as housekeeper, had her meals served in her room as indeed Jane Forrester could choose to do.

Molly decided that Miss Forrester had elegance. It was in her deportment and in the touches of white at her neck and cuffs, their soft lace portraying not efficiency but a taste for fashion. From beneath her lashes Molly watched the graceful way she used her slender hands, the polite way she inclined her neck as she listened to the butler, and judged her to be in her mid-thirties. She was nice-looking too, in a quiet way, with soft brown eyes and hair. Not at all snobby and forbidding-looking. She looks friendly enough, Molly decided as she passed on the bowl of boiled potatoes to another junior maid.

What Molly hadn't anticipated was that her own connection with the new mistress of Graylings would be regarded with suspicion.

‘You want to be careful what you say in earshot of that new maid from Broadway Manor.' One of the parlourmaids had a strident voice as she spoke to Jane, and Molly had paused outside an open door to listen in growing dismay. ‘I mean, why else would Mrs Faraday bring her here, if it wasn't to spy on the rest of us?'

That was Susan, the spiteful cow! Molly had taken a step forward to confront her – then thought better of it. Why stoop to her level? Instead, she had decided to keep her head down and do a good job; they would soon learn they were wrong.

But she was settling in now at Graylings, gratified to find that the cook's expertise was not only equal to that of Mrs Kemp, but her pastry was even superior. Having been half starved as a child, food was Molly's main pleasure in life. Her second was books. She would always bless her good luck in having such a dedicated schoolteacher. Molly's attendance at school might have been spasmodic, the years short, but the elderly spinster whose mission in life was to eradicate illiteracy had recognised a quick brain and fed it accordingly. However, the arrangement that had existed at Broadway Manor between herself and Miss Helena had left a void Molly was unsure how to fill. The romantic novels she had secretly passed on had been ones given to her by the daughter of a local minister, whose eventual elopement scandalised the parish. Although scathing of religion – Molly had seen too much misery in her childhood to believe in a benevolent God – she had taken full advantage of the custom for servants to be given two hours off on Sunday mornings to attend a service. Even sitting in a chilly church and listening to a boring sermon had proved a welcome diversion from the weekly routine.

Now Molly was beginning to wonder whether Miss Helena – or Mrs Faraday as she must remember to call her, at least in public – would, in her new position, consider it beneath her to share books with a mere parlourmaid. To Molly's frustration and disappointment, she had so far seen little of her friend apart from a swift smile of recognition that first day.

During her first few weeks at Graylings, Helena, mindful of Aunt Beatrice's advice, concentrated on establishing her authority. It took determination, but she managed to subdue her natural friendliness and instead adopted a manner that was pleasant yet slightly aloof. And she found it gratifying to see the growing respect in Mrs Birley's eyes as Helena listened to the housekeeper's views and requests and gave clear agreement and instructions.

‘I do realise, Mrs Birley,' Helena had been careful to say, ‘that your familiarity with Graylings far exceeds my own. And I shall rely upon your experience and wise advice in these early days.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Faraday. I can assure you that the efficient running of the household is not only my duty, but also my pleasure.'

‘Then we are of the same mind.'

And since then their relationship had been one of cordial mutual respect, and a few days before Jacob and Beatrice Standish were due to arrive, just as Mrs Birley was about to leave the morning room, Helena said, ‘How is Molly settling in?'

‘Extremely well. I find her both willing and efficient.'

‘Good. And she will receive some training in the duties of a lady's maid?'

‘In due course, Madam.'

‘Indeed.' She was thoughtful as the housekeeper left the room. Helena felt uncomfortable that she hadn't spoken personally to Molly but had thought it wise to wait until the visitors from Broadway Manor arrived, giving the perfect excuse to single out their former maid. Whether at Graylings it would be possible to resume their old friendly relationship was a question to which she hadn't yet found the answer. She missed the way they were relaxed with each other; the fact that they had been girls together had somehow blurred the class boundaries between them. Although Helena suspected that Molly never quite forgot the difference in their status. Meanwhile, slowly she was beginning to trust the quietly efficient Jane Forrester and had already decided that her first appointment had been the right one.

But she had more urgent matters on her mind. Oliver had been absent all day but after dinner, Helena needed to choose the right moment to inform him that she was again indisposed.

Three weeks later the staff at Broadway Manor waited impatiently in the kitchen for Miss Hewson to join them after her return from Graylings.

‘Miss Beatrice will probably expect her to unpack first.' The maid who had replaced Molly was one of those people whose cup was always half empty.

‘Nonsense, girl. She's much too considerate for that. Ah, here she is …' Cook lifted the large brown earthenware teapot and began to pour.

‘Oh, I'm ready for that.' Enid collapsed onto an armchair.

‘How about a slice of my fruit cake, Miss Hewson?'

‘That would be most welcome, thank you.'

‘We're dying to know how Miss Helena is, and all about Graylings.'

‘That's right.' Annie leaned forward on the table, one hand shielding the scarred side of her face.

‘Give me time to catch my breath. It's ever so grand. I nearly got lost the first day.' She went on to describe the stateliness of Graylings with its myriad of rooms and corridors, the dark oak panelling, the huge rooms with long casement windows overlooking parkland and how many of the graceful chairs were embroidered in gold-threaded tapestry. ‘Lovely, it is,' she said, ‘although it doesn't have the cosy feel of Broadway Manor. Believe it or not, there's even a lake.'

Annie said, ‘And Miss Helena?'

‘She seems fine. Quite the mistress, I can tell you. Proud of her, I was.'

‘Yes, but is he good to her?' Annie persisted.

Enid hesitated. ‘He seems to be, not that I saw much of him. He's just the same, treats the servants as if they're invisible.'

‘And how did you find the Servants' Hall?' was the butler's question.

Enid gave a shrug. ‘There were a lot more staff in there, good food mind you. I can tell you one thing, though – they're a nice-looking lot.'

‘So,' the youngest footman said, smoothing his pomaded black hair. ‘What would my chances be, then?'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Would I pass muster?'

‘You're not thinking of leaving us?' Cook's voice rose in alarm.

‘Course not, he's just fishing for compliments. Never mind that, tell us about Molly,' Annie said. ‘Does she like it there?'

‘She says so, although she was a bit quiet. Mind you, I don't suppose there's much she can say.' Enid leaned forward. ‘Apparently, none of the staff at Graylings are supposed to talk about the family.'

‘And it's quite a sensible rule; I've seen many a reputation ruined by gossiping servants.' The butler looked sternly at both footmen. ‘I would hope that neither of you have a loose tongue when you visit alehouses in Lichfield.'

‘And what about Miss Helena's personal maid?' Ida's expression was slightly wistful. ‘Have they appointed one?'

Enid nodded. ‘Yes, a Miss Forrester. Lucky devil, she'll be able to go with them when they have their honeymoon.'

‘Well, we're going to Colwyn Bay for a few days. Oh of course you won't have heard my news,' Ida said, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘You know we were waiting for permission to marry to come through from the army, well it has! And Charlie can't see any point in waiting, so the wedding's next month. I'm really glad you're back, Miss Hewson, because I haven't got my dress sorted out yet.'

Enid brightened. ‘You leave it to me. There's one of Miss Beatrice's silk nightgowns that's too tight on her. I'll have you looking like a princess.'

‘Oh, thanks, Miss Hewson. I knew you'd come up with something. I still can't believe I'll soon be living in married quarters at Whittington.'

‘And then that'll be another new parlourmaid to get used to,' Cook said to Annie later. ‘Only this time, I hope they get a more cheerful one than the last. She's a right wet blanket, and the new scullery maid's a halfwit.'

‘No she isn't,' Annie protested. ‘She's just jumpy, that's all, in case she does anything wrong. And it's not her fault – that dad of hers was too handy with his belt. Daisy just needs time, that's all.'

Once her father and Aunt Beatrice had left, Helena grew restless, lacking stimulation. She had small talent for drawing and painting, and no interest in embroidery. Oliver was often out on estate matters and so far there had been little opportunity to make new friends. She mentioned this to Oliver.

‘When we return from Italy, you can invite Dorothy to stay.' He raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Or do I sense that there is something else on your mind?'

She nodded. ‘I'd like to have some tuition on the piano.'

‘But you play beautifully.'

‘Maybe, but when we begin to entertain, I feel that any recital at Graylings should be of the highest possible standard.'

As she had anticipated, his immediate response was to agree.

Oliver was absent from the house on the morning when James Longford, a music tutor recommended by another county family, first came to Graylings.

When Crossley brought to the music room a clean-shaven dark-haired man sporting a green corduroy jacket and spotted bow tie, Helena turned to him in surprise. Much younger than she had anticipated, he brought with him a breath of fresh air into the rather formal atmosphere that seemed to pervade even the furnishings. She found as they talked that James Longford had an affinity to music that matched her own, and soon Helena took her place before the Steinway grand piano, while the tutor sat on one of the surrounding chairs to listen to her repertoire. When eventually the notes died away, he said, ‘Mrs Faraday, may I congratulate you, that was an excellent performance. However, I think I can – how shall I put it – add icing to the cake? Believe me,' he hesitated and then gave an attractive grin, ‘it will be a pleasure to work with a well-risen sponge rather than a flat and dry one.'

Helena laughed. ‘That sounded heartfelt!'

‘It was!' He came over to the piano. ‘First of all, I think your position could be improved. Perhaps a little more distance?'

Obediently, Helena adjusted the stool.

‘You see, already you have more flexibility of movement. And perhaps if there is slightly higher stool somewhere?'

Helena thought. ‘I'm not sure.'

‘Well before acquiring one, do try a small cushion or something to raise you up a little. Extra height will give you more control and you will find your touch lighter and yet more powerful.'

By the time he left, setting her work on advanced scales and arpeggios, Helena felt that she had already benefited from the extra tuition. When she left the room she saw Molly at the other end of the corridor.

‘Molly! At last, I never seem to be able to catch you on your own. Quick, come in to the music room.'

Once they were inside, she gave the other girl a hug. ‘How are you? Are you happy here?'

‘It's okay. I miss Broadway Manor, though.'

‘Don't tell anyone, but so do I.'

They both burst out laughing.

‘Oh Molly, it's wonderful to be able to talk to you. I'm sorry it's taken so long.'

‘It's all right, Miss Helena. I quite understand. The only thing is …'

‘What, tell me.'

‘You haven't got any books, have you? I'm desperate for something to read.'

‘We must come up with a plan.' Helena glanced around the room. ‘Do you ever come in here?'

Molly nodded. ‘Yes, once a week. It's one of my duties to dust it and use the carpet sweeper.'

‘Then look inside the piano stool.'

‘You mean …'

‘We'll have a system, just like we used to have with that cupboard on the landing. I'll put a novel in there and …'

‘I'll wrap it in a duster and take it right up to my room. Oh, thank you, Miss Helena, you're an angel.' Molly glanced towards the door. ‘I'd better go – Mrs Birley's on the warpath today.'

Those few moments, in addition to the stimulating morning, had lifted Helena's spirits and she greeted Oliver with a smile when later that afternoon he returned for tea. ‘I had such an enjoyable time.'

‘Good. What is he like, this paragon of music?'

‘Younger than I expected. He wears very colourful clothes – a bit bohemian really. He really was excellent. I'm afraid you will have to forebear the sound of scales being practised.'

Oliver took a scone and began to spread it with strawberry jam. ‘Then I shall make a point of being a long way from the music room.'

After he had left, Helena felt in a reflective mood. The past hour had been a companionable one; she had felt relaxed, happy even. She was finding that marriage – which seemed to be the holy grail of most women – was far more complicated than she had expected. So much effort and planning went into the finding of a husband, especially from mothers of daughters of a certain age, with accolades for any girl ‘marrying well'. Yet little was heard of marriage itself, and to her despair, Oliver's brutality, his lack of consideration on their wedding night, was still tainting the way she felt about him. When they were in bed she managed to offer some response, but a vital part of their intimacy had been lost. Was her husband aware of it? What I need, Helena thought with desperation as she strolled over to the tall window to gaze out at the distant lake, is a romantic miracle. She was hoping that their honeymoon would be the answer, and could only pray that it would be soon.