Mr Cavell's Diamond (10 page)

Henry

‘Jemima? Jemima!’ Henry called down the stairs which led to the kitchen. ‘Fetch Sultan’s lead and let’s take him for a run on the beach. It’s a marvellous day, and the good Lord knows we’ve had enough rain these last couple of months. Let’s make the most of the good weather.’

Jemima came to the foot of the stairs and smiled up at her employer.
‘Sir, I’m only just begun on the pie for dinner, and I’ve the grates to clean and fires to set after that…’

Henry waved impatiently.
‘The pie can wait, the grates can stay dirty, I’ll not need any fires tonight. It’s warm, woman, spring is here! Come on, Sultan’s longing to go out!’

He went to the cloakroom and grabbed a bonnet and a shawl, which he threw down the stairs to her. Jemima caught them and frowned.

‘Sir, this is not my shawl, tis the mistress’s,’ she said. ‘Mine is the grey one.’

Henry laughed.
‘I know which is yours. But the blue would look better on you, and the mistress need not know you wore it. Here, Sultan, ready to go out?’

He bent to ruffle the excited dog’s ears. Life had been good lately. Since he’d got over the illness which had brought him back to the seaside, he’d felt relaxed and happy. He wrote letters and dealt with business in the mornings while Jemima ran errands and cleaned the house. In the afternoons he’d go out, visiting Dennett or other friends. Last week, he’d returned home from seeing Dennett and had bumped into Jemima on her way out with Sultan. He’d turned around and accompanied them, despite Jemima’s blushes and protestations. Since that day, an afternoon walk
with her and the dog had become a pleasurable habit, and he’d found himself looking forward to it each day.

Jemima was holding out the blue shawl.
‘Sir, really, I mustn’t wear this. Even if the mistress doesn’t know I wore it,
I
would know. I’ll fetch my grey one, tis a perfectly good one.’

Henry knew when he was beaten, and returned the blue shawl to its peg. He wondered briefly whether he should buy her a new shawl, or whether she’d even accept such a gift.

‘Well, a shawl’s a shawl, I suppose. Are you ready
now
, woman?’ He tied a rope to Sultan’s collar and offered Jemima his arm with a grin and a mock bow.

‘
I am that,’ said Jemima with a smile, walking straight past him to the door. She would not take his arm, he knew. It was not right and proper for a woman of her station, a servant, to take the arm of her gentleman employer. While they were out she always kept herself a yard or two behind him. Except when she picked up her skirts like a child and went running along the beach after the dog, which Henry loved to watch.

Outside, the sun shone and the sea glistened and rippled like a length of the finest silk. There were plenty of people out, parading along the promenade, seeing and being seen.
A fellow was offering children rides up and down the beach on a sad-looking donkey. A couple of bathing machines were pulled up to the water’s edge, some brave souls enjoying the warm weather. Henry shivered. He did enjoy sea-bathing, but not this early in the year. Give the water two or three more months to warm up, and he’d try it in about June.

The cold didn’t stop Sultan though. There was nothing the dog liked more than to chase after a stick thrown into the sea. Jemima had tucked one into her skirt for the purpose, and as soon as they were on the beach she pulled it out and flung it, over
-arm, towards the sea.

‘
Good throw,’ Henry said. ‘You’d make a fine bowler.’

She blushed and shook her head.
‘Sir, women don’t play cricket. Though my brothers had a piece of plank they used as a bat, and they would hit a ball about.’

‘
As a lad, I used to play it with my school friends,’ Henry said. ‘Until I went off to India to join the army.’

‘
Sir, you were in India?’ Jemima had stopped walking and was looking at him with wide, excited eyes.

‘
I was, yes.’

‘
It is very far off, isn’t it? And very hot, full of people living in huts and eating rice grown in fields of water. Little brown children, women wearing red silk wound around their bodies and men wearing white nightshirts all day long. Temples with domes and spikes and covered with carvings of magical beasts!’

Henry laughed.
‘You certainly know a lot about India. Where did all that come from?’

Jemima looked suddenly shy.
‘Sir, I had a picture book when I was a child. I never forgot those pictures of Indian folk, and the tales about their lives.’

He was impressed by her knowledge but quickly hid his surprise.
‘Ah, here’s Dennett, and Sultan expecting you to play with him. We are both in demand.’ As Jemima picked up the stick Sultan had dropped by her feet, Henry strode over to meet his friend who was waving to him from the prom.

‘
Fine day, is it not?’ he said, shaking Dennett’s hand. ‘How was London?’ Dennett had just returned from a business visit to the capital, and Henry had asked him to call in on Caroline.

‘
Grand day, indeed, old man,’ replied Dennett. ‘London was grey and damp. Good to be back on the coast.’ He breathed deeply, turned to face the sea and put his hands on his hips. ‘Look at that. Nothing to beat it, eh? The sun on your face and a far distant horizon. Soothes all ills. Certainly healed you, old man. That your dog over there? With your pretty young house-keeper, I see.’

‘
Yes, Jemima’s fond of taking Sultan for a run,’ said Henry, watching as the girl once again threw the stick along the beach, and raced after the lurcher towards it.

‘
She likes to run herself, I see,’ said Dennett. ‘She’ll not beat that dog though, he’s fast. Plenty of greyhound in him, I’d say.’

‘
Greyhound-terrier mix, I believe,’ said Henry. ‘He’s a good companion.’

‘
Good job you’ve got him then, or you’d be all alone here in Worthing. Except for Jemima, of course. Is she good company too, old man?’

Henry looked quickly at Dennett, who winked at him.

‘No, not in that way. Good grief man, she’s my house-keeper, and I’m married. I wouldn’t do that to Caroline.’

‘
Many would, you know, many would. And speaking of Caroline, it’s probably about time you got yourself back up to London, or brought her down here.’

Henry kicked a stone across the sand and sighed. Neither option held much appeal.
‘Is she missing me, then?’

‘
No, and that’s the problem,’ said Dennett, quietly. ‘There’s gossip going around, old man. She’s been enjoying herself a bit too much, according to some people. You were worried enough about her behaviour when you were still there, and the word is, she’s been getting worse.’

Henry stared out to sea. Sultan was racing in the shallows, splashing his way along the beach while Jemima ran alongside, keeping just out of the reach of the waves. She had her skirts held up above her ankles, and was laughing at the antics of the dog.

‘What gossip? Did you see Caroline?’

‘
Yes, I called on her as you asked. She had three gentlemen friends with her at the time. All respectable men, but the conversation was, shall we say, a little lively. The word is, she’s been enjoying your absence rather more than she should.’ Dennett pulled out a pipe and began to fill it. ‘You’d do well to keep her in your sight, old boy. I’ve said before wives need to be kept under control, especially pretty ones with a flirty eye like yours.’

‘
It was her flirty eye that drew me in the first place,’ said Henry, ruefully. ‘I’ll write to her, tell her to come down to Worthing again. Thank you for the warning, my friend.’

‘
You’re welcome, old man. Don’t want you being made to look a fool.’

‘
Indeed. Well, if I bring her back to Worthing I could close up the London house and save money. Or let it to tenants and make money.’

‘
Well, that’s your decision to make.’ Dennett puffed on his pipe and studied the horizon once more. ‘Marvellous, isn’t it? Can’t understand people who prefer the city.

‘
Nor I,’ said Henry.

Jemima was approaching, flushed and out of breath, Sultan bounding around her still full of energy.
‘Sir, I must take the dog home now, and finish making that pie for your supper.’ She curtseyed to Dennett. ‘Excuse me, sir.’

Henry nodded his agreement, and watched as she skipped across the beach towards the house, teasing Sultan by waving the stick above his head just out of his reach.
Damn Caroline. He’d been so happy these last months, living a quiet life here without her. Why did she have to spoil everything?

Chapter 9 – July 1831

Jemima

I
am all of a dither. Mr Cavell told me the mistress was coming back to Worthing and I must get the house ready and a meal cooked. He said he will employ another servant soon, so I don’t have to do it all by myself. Mrs Smith is staying in London to be housekeeper there, though there will be no one for her to cook for when the mistress and Franny come back here.

I know he
’s been writing to his wife and asking her to come back. One time he left a letter written and unsent on his writing desk. I was dusting and though I shouldn’t have read the letter I spied the words in big capitals:
COME BACK TO WORTHING AT THE EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY
and they were underlined too. Seems it was not the first time he’d told her to come home.

I bring the post to Mr
Cavell of a morning so I knew too, that not many letters from London had come. I wonder why he doesn’t just go up and fetch her back, but he has told me many a time he doesn’t care for London and he is a-feared he will get sick again if he goes there.

I think m
aybe he doesn’t really want her back. We have been living happily and quietly here these last six months. If he
really
wanted her back he would just go and fetch her. So he is telling her she must come back but he doesn’t
really
want her, I’m thinking.

But now at last she
is coming. The house won’t be so quiet once the mistress is back with her demands and Franny with her chatter and giggles, though I am looking forward to seeing the little girl again.

‘
Jemima? Jemima!’ Mr Cavell came to the top of the stairs and called down to the kitchen. Lately he forgets we have a servant bell. I wiped my hands on my apron and went to see what he wanted.

‘
Mrs Cavell and Frances will arrive on the coach at half past five,’ he told me. ‘Can you have the dinner ready for half past six? Is there enough time to do everything? I could ask Dennett to send over his maid if you need help?’

He look
ed more flustered than I was.

‘
Half past six, yes sir. There is enough time to do everything, sir, though not to take Sultan out for his run.’

He look
ed pleased there was something he could do. ‘I’ll take Sultan out. Are you sure you don’t need any help?’

‘
I’m sure,’ I said, and he smiled at me as I went back to the kitchen to tuck sprigs of rosemary into the lamb, and peel potatoes for roasting. Mr Cavell has a nice smile, and I do like to see it, especially when he sends it my way.

The afternoon pass
ed quickly as I rushed from one job to the next, but I had everything done and time for a cup of tea by five o’clock. Then I remembered Franny was coming too, so I made little cakes for her, topped each one with a strawberry. I hoped she still had her dolly for I had sewed a new frock for it.

Mr
Cavell brought Sultan back all wet and sandy, so I had to brush him down in the back yard afore he spannelled my clean kitchen floor. The mistress doesn’t like either the dog or the beach so she certainly wouldn’t like the two mixed together. Sultan hates being brushed, and though he stood still he whined quietly all through. ‘Daft dog,’ I told him. ‘It doesn’t hurt you, and it makes you look lovely.’ He licked my face when I’d finished, and I gave him one of the strawberry buns.

I ha
d changed my apron and were pinning a fresh cap on my head when Mrs Cavell arrived in a cab. Franny ran straight in and jumped into my arms. I spun her round and kissed her face as she chattered non-stop about all that she’d seen and done in London.

‘
Ssh,’ I told her, and set her down. ‘Tell me it all later!’ The mistress glared at me as I took her cloak and hung it up. She looked heavier than afore she went away. She’d been dining out too often, I reckoned.

‘
Jemima, bring us tea in the sitting room, then dinner in half an hour, please,’ said Mr Cavell. I nodded and took Franny with me to the kitchen so she could have a strawberry bun. I was glad to have her back in the house.

For the next few days my feet hardly touched the ground. So much has happened, so much to think through… Well, I must start at the beginning with the day after their return from London.

It w
as the first of a set of busy days. The mistress called me here, there, and everywhere, I had all the cleaning and all the cooking to do, and Franny wanted to play all the time. I think no one played with her at all in London, poor mite.

Mr
Cavell came to see me in the kitchen. ‘Jemima, you need some help with all the work now that we have a full household again. I spoke to Dennett and his cook has a young niece who’s looking for work. She’s calling here this afternoon. If you like her, you may offer her three shillings a week, and the room next to yours.’

‘
But sir,’ I said, ‘how will I know if she will be a good servant? Will you not see her? Or Mrs Cavell?’

He laugh
ed. ‘No, Jemima. My wife is not interested in servants, as long as they do their jobs. You are the housekeeper here, so I will leave it in your capable hands. I trust your judgement.’ He nodded to me and left.

The girl when she arrive
d was not above fifteen years old. She was shy, but her dress was neat and she curtseyed nicely. Curtsey! To me!

I ask
ed her name.

‘
Maria, ma’am,’ she said, curtseying again. I was about to tell her not to call me ma’am nor curtsey, when the bell rang from the drawing room. I had to run upstairs to answer it – the mistress wanted a boiled egg and a muffin to eat, no matter that she’d had her lunch not an hour before.

When I g
ot back to the kitchen Maria was elbow-deep in a bucket of water, scrubbing the back doorstep, which had been sandy from Sultan’s feet. She stood up as soon as I came in and blushed.

‘
Excuse me, ma’am, but I thought I may as well make myself busy while you were upstairs,’ she said.

I smile
d and asked her, could she start today for three shilling a week?

She d
id a little excited jump and said yes, then she went straight back down to the step scrubbing. I think Maria and I are going to get along together very well.

Next day, Sunday, the mistress cancelled my morning off. She wanted a deep hot bath and she wanted me to help. I went up and down the stairs till my legs were gone to jelly, taking buckets of water heated on the kitchen fire, and poured them into the tin bath. I had to lug that up those stairs too. I added a sprig of rosemary to the water to scent it, and brought a pile of clean folded towels into the mistress’s bedroom. She has not been in the same room as Mr Cavell since she came back, saying she is too used to sleeping alone now.

I help
ed her remove her gown and as I did I noticed it had been let out at the waist. Her stays were laced just loosely, but she heaved a sigh of relief when they were off. Then she slipped off her chemise and I saw it. The weight she has put on is no ordinary weight. She has thickened at the waist, filled out at the breast and built herself a nice little bump in front.

I let out a little gasp. Mrs
Cavell looked at me quickly. ‘Have you guessed?’ she asked.

‘
I believe you may be expecting,’ I said. ‘Tis good news, the master longs for a child of his own and Franny will love a baby brother or sister.’

She press
ed her lips together and sniffed. ‘Don’t you tell him anything, you hear me?’

I nod
ded and felt my face burn. ‘No, ma’am,’ I said. ‘Course not. Excuse me, ma’am, but he will notice it soon, I reckon.’

‘
Maybe, but no need to hurry it along. The baby’s not due until….’ She bit her lip.

I
was figuring it out myself. October, I think, remembering it was January when Mr Cavell come back from London, so the baby must have been started just after Christmas. She’s got a very small neat bump for being six months along.

‘
Well, as I say. Not a word to your master, nor to anyone else, or you’ll lose your job.’ She stepped into the bath. ‘It’s cold, girl! Fetch me another bucket of hot water, and hurry up with it!’

I felt like the secret had a-filled me so full I was near bursting with it. Every day I thought today will be the day she will tell him the happy news and Mr Cavell will ask for a bottle of the best wine from the cellar and Franny will squeal and clap her hands and the household will be a joyful one. I longed to tell Maria – we are good friends already and she’s only been here a week. But I kept my word to the mistress and kept my tongue tied down.

The mistress
took to wearing a looser gown, I heard her tell Mr Cavell it is the fashion in London, though to me it looks more like the high-waisted ones from ten or fifteen years ago.

An invitation ca
me for Mr Cavell and the mistress to dine out with the Newlands. Mr Newland is Chairman of the Board of Commissioners here in Worthing, an important person. I know the mistress was keen to get to know the Newlands afore she went to London but she seemed not to want to go to their dinner now. Mr Cavell was confused and asked her why not, she wrung her hands and said she had not a thing to wear. I thought of her dressing room and trunks stuffed with gowns, but then I thought of her growing belly and the secret she was still a-keeping from him.

Two day
s after the invitation came, Mr Cavell arrived home with a large box. He called the mistress into the drawing room, and asked me to fetch some wine. ‘Chocolate, for me,’ said the mistress. She’s been drinking a lot of chocolate lately. I remember my Ma wanting apples all the time when she was expecting.

As I pour
ed the wine for Mr Cavell, he pulled out of the box a gown, made of green silk, trimmed with lace. It was the most beautiful gown I ever did see and I let out a little sigh. The mistress scowled at me so I looked away quickly.

‘
For you, Caroline,’ said Mr Cavell. ‘I went to Miss Paine’s on South Street and had her make it up for you. She had your measurements from last year. Now you’ll not be able to say you have nothing to wear!’ He looked so proud as he held it out to her. The colour was perfect to bring out her eye colour and make her golden hair sparkle. But I could see it wouldn’t fit.

The mistress s
aw it too. For a moment her mouth dropped open and I thought she were going to tell him, but then she took the dress and smiled. ‘Oh Henry,’ she said. ‘It is beautiful, thank you!’ She turned then, and saw me watching. ‘What are you doing still here, girl? Did I not ask you for a drink of chocolate? Which is kept in the kitchen, is it not?’

I curtsey
ed and hurried out of there to make the chocolate. When I came back with it, the mistress was snuggled on a sofa next to Mr Cavell, and she was all loving towards him. The dress was thrown back in its box, all crumpled. So I thought she must have told him. I put the chocolate down quietly on a side table and tried to catch her eye, but she kept her eyes fixed only on him.

Then I s
aw that she had pulled a cushion onto her lap, like she was hiding the bump while he sat so close.

‘
That’s all, girl,’ she said to me, and so I had to leave the room again. I was dying to know what had been said between them, but I don’t go listening at keyholes like some other servants. I reckoned I’d find out soon enough what was said and what will happen.

Next morning the mistress called me to her room as soon as Mr Cavell had gone out. She was still in her nightwear as was usual for the time of day. She had the green gown spread out across the bed.

‘
Can you alter it?’ she asked me. ‘Let it out, change the front a bit so I don’t show?’

I pick
ed up the gown and looked inside it to see the size of the seams. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘there’s not too much extra on these seams to let out….’

The mistress grab
bed the gown back off me. ‘Let me see. Look, there’s plenty. Let them right out. Put a panel in the back if you have to. I could keep a lace shawl on to cover it.’

Now, fancy sewing is not my strong point. Cooking, cleaning and plain sewing – I
am as good as anyone, but not dress-making. ‘Ma’am, could we not take it back to Miss Paine’s to be altered properly? She’d have more of the silk to match….’

‘
No! If we do that, Miss Paine would want to measure me, and then she’d notice my condition,’ hissed the mistress. ‘I told you I want no one to know yet. But I have to wear this gown to the dinner. So
you
must make the alterations.’ She thrust the dress at me and threw herself back onto the bed with a sigh like a pair of bellows.

‘
Ma’am, I will do my best, I promise. When is the dinner?’

‘
Tonight. Now bring me my breakfast. I shall take it in bed today.’

Downstairs in the kitchen I asked Maria to make the mistress’s breakfast while I sat at the table to decide what to do with the gown. There was not nearly enough in the seams to let it out. I didn’t know how to add a panel to the back, and even if I did, I  had no green silk to match the dress. How I was going to deal with this only the Lord above knew. I know I am a good servant but this was the first time I thought I can’t do what I’ve been asked in this house. I pushed back my tears afore they fell and stained the silk.