Easterleigh Hall (10 page)

‘You will receive exemplary food, Your Ladyship, as always. Colour co-ordinated for the dinner party.'

Lady Brampton swept from the room, clutching her skirts close in case she brushed against something or someone unpleasant. For Evie this was one of the best and most triumphant moments of her life, and proof that the lady of the house would do anything to keep a cook who created
exemplary
food. Annie nudged her and they grinned. Annie whispered, ‘Better not let the food go downhill.' Well, it wouldn't, for no matter how bad Mrs Moore's rheumatics became she, Evie Forbes, would cover for her and keep the standard as it should be. At that moment Simon entered from the bell passageway with a basket full of flowers.

Evie came from the scullery, smiling at Simon. Mrs Moore asked her to clear the tablecloth. Conscious of Simon's eyes on her as she did so, she said, ‘I'm sorry you will only have two more girls.'

Mrs Moore tapped her nose. ‘Always ask for more than you need. They'll never agree and will always offer under, it makes them feel they've won, when in fact we have. We only needed two, I can't have silly girls cluttering up my kitchen.'

Evie laughed, Simon too, though he looked puzzled. ‘What's the joke?' His eyes really were the most vivid blue.

Lady Veronica sat in the window of the Blue Drawing Room overlooking the formal gardens at the back of the house. The cherry blossom was wonderful after such a winter, but when wasn't it harsh? She looked beyond the box hedges, seeing daffodils and plants that had yet to flower. She loved it here, harsh winters or not; however, she did not love luncheon with her stepmother. She did not love luncheon full stop. What on earth was the point of trying to stuff three courses into a gut that was pinched into nothing by a ridiculous corset? It was not something Wainey had thought sensible or right; she had hooked her own and Veronica's stays up as loosely as possible.

At the thought of Wainey she swallowed, hardly able to bear the misery. Why had she done it? Her vision blurred and she could no longer see the balcony outside the long windows. In the summer it had always been glorious to sit there as the last of the heat fled the day, but she didn't know how she could ever enjoy it again.

She turned at the sound of her stepmother's voice. ‘Really, where is your brother? There is no need for him to slouch so long over the luncheon table after we withdraw. Look at the time, it's now early afternoon and he could be occupying himself in some way.'

Veronica said, ‘I expect he is occupying himself, probably enjoying a cigarette.' Her voice was carefully neutral.

‘He enjoys a sight too many things, and always at the expense of others.' Lady Brampton was sitting at the end of the sofa, reading
The Times
while she drank her coffee. Veronica said nothing. What was there to say?

Her stepmother lowered the newspaper, peering at Veronica, the hint of a scowl beginning. ‘Is that a sullen silence, my dear? If so, it's not as a lady should behave.'

Veronica said, ‘It is merely a silence. I have nothing to contribute to our scintillating conversation.' She wondered if her stepmother noticed her hatred, or if she did, whether she cared, so preoccupied was she with herself. What on earth would her mother think of her husband's choice of a wife who was everything that Wainey and her mother had considered a disgrace to women? Auberon had told her that their mother would have stood her ground on the purchase of a title and asked how one could possibly buy status, because such a thing needed to be earned? Veronica wondered if perhaps their father had earned it with his various businesses, because for all his faults he was a worker. She thought not and returned again to the views over the garden.

Her stepmother hadn't finished. ‘Veronica.' It was a command. Veronica turned. The newspaper had been left to fall to the floor. No doubt some wretched minion would be expected to pick it up, re-iron it and leave it on the table in case it was required later. Lady Brampton said, ‘I see my task as bringing you up to par. Miss Wainton was too lax, too full of silly ideas and has let you down. We need to determine on a schedule of visits to your Northumbrian contemporaries and not lose sight of the fact that within two years you will come out. We will, at that time, circulate you amongst your London contemporaries to be viewed. Nineteen will be ideal. We'll have to find you a husband, one with prospects and a suitable rank.'

Veronica stared anywhere but at this impossible woman with her immaculate hair and clothes, sitting there as though she was a set piece in this house she had refurbished as a backdrop to her own perceived brilliance.

It was a house that was too big, too unlike anything Veronica or Auberon needed, or in which her mother would have felt comfortable. ‘I don't want a husband,' she said. ‘I want a life. I want a career but I just don't know what yet.' She stood and walked to the window, longing to rush down the stairs and outside, to run across the lawn as she used to before this woman became her stepmother five years ago and forbade such unladylike behaviour.

Her stepmother was staring at her, leaning forward as though to hear better. ‘I don't believe I heard correctly.'

‘I'll repeat, then. I don't want a husband, not yet. I want a life.'

Lady Brampton shook her head, her eyes narrowing. ‘That Wainton woman has a lot to answer for, indeed she has. I mean, just what do you intend to be, a shorthand writer? How absurd you are, and how can you consider taking a job from someone who has need of it? I absolutely forbid it, Veronica, and don't want to hear any more about it.'

The door opened and Auberon entered. Veronica shook her head in warning. He nodded, walked to Lady Brampton, bent over her hand and said, ‘Delightful luncheon, Mama.'

It was water off a duck's back. Lady Brampton leaned away from him. ‘I can smell brandy. Sit down and be quiet. You deserve bread and water when I think of the way you've behaved, and how on earth can you put your father through this endless worry and embarrassment?' She was now waving him from her, her eyes as cold as ice. But when weren't they, the witch. Was that why she had been a spinster for so long, wondered Veronica, not for the first time. Or had her heart been broken somewhere along the line? But no, that couldn't be so, for that would assume she possessed such a thing.

Auberon sat opposite his stepmother on the other sofa. From the set of his head Veronica knew that he was only a short step from disaster. She intervened, walking towards them and taking her place alongside Auberon. ‘How long are you remaining at Easterleigh, Mama?'

‘Don't change the subject.' Lady Marjorie Brampton had a ramrod-straight back and it was the one thing Veronica admired about her. Her stepmother continued, ‘Auberon, you insisted on university and I supported you because it's so much more suitable than the grubby world of business, but you've made me out a fool. Therefore this is where you'll remain. There'll be no more drinking, no more gambling. How dare you when we are economising, when we are threatened on all sides by this lunatic Lloyd George who is attempting to redistribute our wealth to pay for his absurd welfare reforms.'

‘But Stepmama . . .'

‘Do not interrupt, Auberon. For heaven's sake, boy, can't you understand the severity of the situation? They demand a much higher income tax from those with our wealth, plus an inheritance tax, and land tax, and all for these workers who threaten us on all sides, wanting more. If it isn't your father's steel workers, or the brick workers, then it is the miners, and it's not just
his
workers. Read the newspapers. What is the world coming to?'

‘We're hardly threatened, Mama. We have more than a little bit in hand, haven't we?' Auberon's tone was dry.

Veronica knew it was the brandy talking, but whatever it was it was a step too far. She spoke loudly to gain her stepmother's attention. ‘Have you received replies to your dinner invitations?'

Lady Brampton forced herself to turn to Veronica. ‘Yes, I have indeed and I think that you must attend. You are not yet “out”, but Lady Esther will be coming with her parents and perhaps Lady Margaret with hers. They are both from good Northumbrian families and it really is quite time you learned some polish. That dreadful Wainton has quite worn out your brain with all this book-learning.'

Veronica stared. Next this stupid woman would be telling her that to think would leave her in a state of hysteria. Find the crinolines immediately.

Lady Brampton continued. ‘Listen well, Veronica, because you will one day have a household of your own to run. I have solved the latest servant problem and have suggested that we change provision suppliers in order to budget for the full complement of kitchen staff.'

She rose, brushing past her stepchildren with her usual disdain. ‘I will change and then I am to call on Lady Taunton. Tomorrow, Veronica, we will both call on Lady Margaret while her mother is in Paris. Let me repeat myself. When you are nineteen you will come out, and you, at least, must, and will, enhance our family name. I expect you to marry well.' She swept from the room.

For a moment neither Veronica or Auberon spoke, then she turned to her brother. ‘Don't inflame her. You have ground to make up. It doesn't help, it really doesn't.'

He sighed, his fair hair flopping across his left eye as it always did. He brushed it aside. ‘I can't help it.'

‘Yes you can, it's simple, just don't open your mouth.' Veronica shook his arm. He shrugged. ‘Then it's called dumb insolence.' They both laughed.

‘What's wrong with putting a few crinklies on the horses, Ver?'

She shook his arm again, exasperated. ‘You know what. And what would Wainey have said?'

‘Leave her out of it.' His voice was sharp and he looked into the fireplace. It had not been lit and wouldn't be until four o clock.

‘Why, when she's at the heart of it? You've got to move on, you simply must, this is not what she would want.'

He gripped her hand, which still lay on his arm. ‘Why did she do it, Ver? You were here, did she say anything? Yes, she was asked to leave but we would have made sure she was all right, we would have stayed close. Why would she jump, and from the balcony?'

They both looked towards the long window and the balustrade over which their father said Wainey had flung herself.

Auberon let go of her hand and leant forward, his head in his hands. His voice was muffled. ‘It's my fault. I went away, and to get their own back they dismissed her. If I hadn't gone . . . How could he say she wasn't needed? She was part of the family, for God's sake. You know, I sometimes wonder if she didn't jump, but . . .' He stopped, straightened up and stared at the gold clock on the mantelpiece which his stepmother had brought with her from Headon Hall, her decrepit family pile. ‘I'm sorry, Ver. I shouldn't go on, and I won't, not any more. It's over and he'll be back soon and then I'll really have to face the Furies.'

‘She jumped, of course she did, Aub, don't be a fool.' Veronica was pulling him towards her, stroking his hair. ‘Dearest Aub, anyone faced by him might if he was raging, and if their heart was breaking. So, never think anything else. It was just one of those terrible moments in a person's life. One day things will be better.'

She held him as though she could somehow keep him safe, because it was all she wanted: Auberon safe. She loved him and God help her, he kept the rage of their father fixed on himself, not on her. Before Auberon, had it been her mother who did this? She could bear none of it. For a moment she thought that she would cry with fear and anguish but that must not happen, for once she started she didn't know how she would ever stop.

ALMOST TWO WEEKS
later, on Saturday, Evie prepared the breakfast porridge as usual. It was the dinner party in the evening, and Lord Brampton would arrive for luncheon. There was a degree of tension in the air that was quite new to her. Mrs Moore had not smiled once and her tone had sharpened. Twenty guests and Lord Brampton home. The air seemed too tight for anyone to breathe, but at least they had a new scullery maid and kitchen assistant.

‘Colour co-ordinated food indeed,' muttered Mrs Moore, rattling the pan in which kidneys for the upstairs breakfast were being sautéed. ‘Never heard the like.'

Evie had written out the menu cards as she had better hands and French, said Mrs Moore, some days before, refusing point blank to spend time chatting in the lingo just to help Evie keep hers up to scratch. Instead she'd said, ‘One day you'll be hearing quite a bit of it, and that will do the job rather well, lass.' She had refused to elaborate but pointed to the sieves. ‘The quenelles are calling you, and I have enough to do without teaching you extra,' she'd said firmly.

Tonight it would be clear golden soup using veal stock removed by turbot and cream sauce, removed by compote of pigeons at Lord Brampton's insistence which could hardly, even by the wildest stretch of the imagination, be called cream-coloured. On and on it went until eight courses, frequently with a cream sauce to keep within the colour parameters of cream and white, were prepared. ‘To be devoured by the less than starving masses above stairs,' Mrs Moore grimaced.

‘Well, good luck to those corsets, all you lords and ladies,' Evie grunted, stirring steadily as the heat from the range beat at her. The kitchen staff had been up at four thirty this morning to start and stoke the furnace, check the pantries, and get an extra hour out of the morning. The house servants were up with the lark also but the upstairs and downstairs breakfasts were at the usual times, as upstairs routine could not be disturbed.

Mrs Moore was now placing the kidneys in a pan and snapped, ‘Never mind your clever remarks, Evie Anston. Stop fiddling about with the bloody porridge and do something useful. Millie, take over the porridge and get it to the servants' hall and be quick about it, if that's within the boundary of your understanding?' Millie was from Easton, which had alarmed Evie, until her mam sorted out the need for secrecy with Millie's family. She'd been employed as the new kitchen assistant after the job had first been offered to Annie, who had refused, preferring to stay in the scullery because there was too much learning that went with cooking. Evie had said they would teach her, but it had done no good.