The Maid's Secret (5 page)

Ellen held out the parcel and Christopher stepped forward too to take it from her, which was not at all what Mr Stephens had intended, but Ellen smiled and dipped her knee to Christopher and then to Mr and Mrs Hart, who both nodded benevolently.

Everyone clapped and cheered. He was a popular young man; nothing to dislike about him, as Mrs Marshall murmured to the housekeeper. ‘Good thing Ellen remembered the present,’ she added. ‘I’d forgotten all about it.’

Mr and Mrs Hart went back to the house after a suitable interval but Christopher and some of his friends participated in the food and drink, and in a game of tug of war. As the evening drew on everyone became very merry. A couple of fiddlers started to play and one of the tenants brought out a penny whistle and soon people were dancing. The footmen and some of the house guests danced with the maids, the boot boy and the horse lads danced with Letty and Flo, and Mrs Marshall danced with Mr Stephens until both decided that they’d had enough for one day and would return to the house, she for a cup of cocoa and he for a small dram of whisky.

Mrs Marshall looked back at the dancing group before she left and saw Flo standing next to Tuke, who was drinking from a tankard, one arm round her waist. The fire was sending up flickering sparks into the now dark sky; there was a moon and bright stars high in the heavens. Another group of people were gathered about the fire but she couldn’t see Ellen, or Master Christopher either, and that bothered her. She narrowed her eyes. Her near vision wasn’t very good but her long sight was sharp, and she saw a girl and a young man walking towards the trees.

‘Tuke,’ she called on a sudden whim.

He turned round, and when she beckoned he came towards her, leaving Flo behind, staring after him.

‘What can I do for you, Cook?’ he slurred. ‘Not leaving already? I haven’t had a dance wi’ you yet.’

‘My dancing days are over,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you’d seen Ellen? I wanted a word wi’ her.’

He shook his head and looked around him. ‘I’ve seen her, yeh, but not spoken to her. She’s getting too proud to talk to ’likes o’ me.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Marshall said. ‘She likes you all right, but you know what these young girls are for pretending otherwise. Find her for me, will you? There’s a good fellow.’

He gave a deep bow, almost falling over. ‘For you, Cook, anything! Especially if it means talking to ’lovely Ellen.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Tell her I want a word back at ’house as soon as she can.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘Just find her.’

‘Well, Ellen.’ Christopher stumbled over his words. ‘What a splendid evening. Tomorrow’s party will feel quite tame after this.’

‘I hope it will be a night to remember, sir,’ she said softly, touching his fingers.

‘You don’t have to call me sir, you know, not tonight anyway.’ He clasped her hand and looked blearily at her. ‘Didn’t we—’ He took a hiccuping breath. ‘I thought we used to be friends.’

‘So we were,’ she agreed in a whisper. ‘So what’s changed?’

He shook his head and swayed a little. ‘I don’t know, Ellen. Do you know? You’re looking very – very—’ He hiccuped again. ‘Very pretty.’

‘Would you like to sit down, Christopher?’ she murmured. ‘Just for a minute.’

‘I think I would,’ he slurred. ‘I think I might have had a drop too much to drink.’

She led him towards the shelter of the trees. ‘The grass is quite dry,’ she said. ‘Not damp at all.’ Christopher carefully lowered himself on to it.

He patted the grass beside him. ‘Come and sit with me, Ellen, and tell me what you’ve been doing since I last saw you.’

‘Well, just the usual things, you know.’ He’d obviously forgotten that he had seen her only the day before. Or, perhaps, she thought hopefully, he means since he last saw me on our own, away from the house.

Boldly, she held his hand and lifted it to her lips. ‘Life is not as pleasant now that we don’t meet any more.’

‘I know.’ He leaned towards her. ‘But if we should be found out . . . ’

‘I understand,’ she whispered, leaning into him. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t be. We’ll still be able to keep our secret.’

‘You’re very lovely, you know, Ellen.’ He touched her face with his fingers. ‘But I shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘But I want you to,’ she murmured. ‘And I like it.’ Her lips brushed his. ‘I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.’

‘Have you? Have you really? I didn’t know.’ He returned her kiss and closed his eyes, pulling her down to lie beside him.

His head swam. I’m not used to drinking. Not strong ale. Usually he only had a glass of wine at dinner. He wanted to sleep, but this girl – Ellen – she was loosening his belt, and yes, that was better, he’d eaten far too much, but her fingers were wandering beneath his shirt and undergarments on to his flesh, and oh, how many fingers did she have because now she was directing his hand beneath her skirt.

‘Ellen,’ he murmured. ‘We shouldn’t . . . ’ but she shushed him, and he had to agree when she asked him that it was very pleasant there, such silky skin, warm and moist and inviting, and he had never . . . never yet been with a woman, although he had wanted to. And as he rode astride her and she wrapped her pale thighs around him he felt empowered and she gasped as if she was hurt but no, she said, no, it didn’t hurt and even if it did she didn’t mind, it was what she wanted and she knew it was what he wanted too. But in any case he couldn’t stop, for his head didn’t know what his body was doing.

Ellen buttoned up his shirt and breeches; she couldn’t fasten his belt because he was lying on it. He was fast asleep, lying on his side as if he were tucked up in bed. She sat gazing at him. She heard voices calling his name and knew it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

‘Wake up, Christopher.’ She shook his shoulder. ‘They’re looking for you.’

He grunted but didn’t move and she shook him again. ‘Wake up.’

Then she heard someone calling her name. She drew in a breath. Nathaniel Tuke! How did he know she was here? But perhaps he didn’t and was only looking for her. She had avoided him for most of the night.

She stood up. ‘Nathaniel,’ she called. ‘Come here, will you?’

‘Certainly will, my lovely.’ Ellen saw his shadow on the grass. ‘What ’you doing out here? Hello,’ he said, seeing Christopher lying under the trees. His voice became suspicious. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I saw him staggering over here,’ she lied, ‘and followed him. Then he passed out.’

‘How kind of you,’ he said cynically. He peered at Christopher. ‘Is he drunk?’

‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t wake him and I knew I couldn’t move him by myself. I was about to go and ask somebody to help.’

‘Well I’m not going to lift him,’ he muttered. ‘Not on my own. I’ll go and fetch his pals to help him. Can’t hold his ale, that’s for sure.’

He ambled off, and then turned back. ‘Wait for me, will you?’

She didn’t answer him, but shook Christopher again and this time he rolled over, groaning. ‘Oh, my head! What’s happened to my head?’

She tried to help him to a sitting position. ‘Somebody’s coming to help you,’ she said.

‘No.’ He pushed her away. ‘I’ll get up by myself. I’ll never touch ale again.’ He screwed his eyes up as he looked at her and then at his surroundings. ‘What am I doing here?’

‘We were talking and – and then you fell asleep,’ she said. ‘Don’t you remember?’ Please remember, she willed him. But he didn’t. He recalled nothing. He only knew that he had a thumping headache and wanted to be sick.

‘Fasten your belt,’ she whispered, hearing the voices coming nearer.

‘What? Oh.’ He turned away from her as if embarrassed, muttering, ‘How’s that come undone?’

‘Whoa ho! Who can’t hold his drink, then?’ Two of his friends from neighbouring estates arrived on the scene and hoisted him to his feet. ‘Come on, old chap, you need the hair of the dog. That’ll cure you.’

Ellen watched them from the shadows. They didn’t notice her as they put their arms round Christopher’s shoulders and hauled him away, and none of them looked back.

She should have felt exhilarated, and she had at first, but now it seemed that Christopher had forgotten what had happened between them, and she felt frustrated and downcast. She had lost her virginity, had planned to lose it, had been planning for a long time, but only with him, never with anyone else. Christopher was the only man she would ever love, and even though she knew in her heart that there was no future for them together she was sure he would always want her, and if he should marry someone else he would always look after her. He loves
me
, she thought fiercely. He just doesn’t realize it yet. He’ll
never
love anyone else.

She walked slowly back and saw Nathaniel Tuke coming towards her and thought that he was the last man on earth she wanted to see right now, but he said very little apart from the message he gave her from Mrs Marshall. ‘I’ll walk you back to ’house, Ellen,’ he said, and he seemed quite sober and didn’t attempt to put his arm about her.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Mrs Marshall noticed Ellen’s lethargy. ‘You seem a bit dowly, Ellen.’

‘I’m all right. Got a cold coming on, I think.’

‘Is that all? Not sickening for summat, are you?’

Ellen looked away from Cook’s penetrating gaze. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Well, if you are you’d better not go upstairs. Mistress won’t be pleased if she catches summat from you.’

‘Hah! She won’t,’ Ellen said grumpily. ‘Not her.’ She emptied a tray of tea things and stacked them in the sink for one of the kitchen maids to wash. ‘I’m going outside,’ she said. ‘I’ll not be a minute.’

She took a shawl from one of the pegs in the lobby and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of cold frosty air. She looked across the yard towards the stables. She’d barely seen Christopher since that night, and even on his actual birthday she hadn’t been able to speak to him, as there had always been someone by his side.

Just once, a couple of weeks ago as he’d been crossing the yard, he had seen her and waved a hand, but he hadn’t stopped to speak and a few minutes later he had ridden by on a black stallion, his newest acquisition. She couldn’t understand. Surely he wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him?

Nathaniel Tuke strolled across. ‘Any chance of a cup o’ tea?’ he asked, and then sidled up to her, putting his hand on her waist. ‘Or owt else, come to that?’

She shuffled away from him. ‘Tea,’ she said. ‘Nowt else.’ Nathaniel followed her into the kitchen and again reached for her waist, running his hands down to her hips. ‘Stop it,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not in ’mood.’

‘Ah!’ he said. ‘That time of ’month, is it? Well, I can wait. I’ve been waiting a while, Ellen.’

Cook watched Tuke as he drank his tea and noticed how his eyes followed Ellen. ‘Got it bad, have you?’ she asked, when Ellen had gone upstairs.

He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. ‘She doesn’t notice me. She’s onny got eyes for them that’s above her, and that’ll come to nowt.’

‘What do you want from her?’

He shrugged. ‘Time I was settling down. I’m twenty-five or thereabouts. Not met anybody else I fancy.’

‘Flo? She likes you.’

He gave a coarse laugh. ‘Flo likes a few of ’lads. She’s getting desperate.’

‘But you’d have Ellen, would you?’

‘Like a shot,’ he mumbled. ‘But little chance o’ that.’

‘There’s somebody who cares for you, Ellen,’ Cook told her when they were next alone.

‘I know.’ Ellen’s face lit up. She’d seen Christopher upstairs when she had been serving tea and he’d smiled at her, acknowledging her, even though his mother was in the room; she had taken it as a promising signal. ‘And I love him.’

‘Do you? Really? Tuke, I’m talking about.’

‘Tuke!’ Ellen laughed. ‘Nathaniel Tuke! Never. There’s onny one man I love, will allus love.’

‘Who then?’ Mrs Marshall had begun this conversation to confirm that what she was about to do was the right thing.

‘Master Christopher, of course. We’re in love.’ As she said it, Ellen was assailed by doubt. Was it a one-sided thing?

Cook’s face was a picture of dismay, her worst fears realized. ‘No,’ she groaned. ‘Not Master Christopher! Oh, I should never have encouraged you. Should never have agreed that you could have a conversation wi’ him. Nowt can come of it. Does he say he loves you? Cos remember, girl, young men are apt to say things they don’t really mean, especially when they’re in their cups.’

‘He loves me,’ Ellen repeated adamantly. ‘And I love him. I know we can’t marry, but he’ll look after me; he’ll find me somewhere to live where he can come to see me. Rich gentlemen do that. He can still marry somebody he doesn’t love, like these folk do, but it won’t matter, not to us.’

She was rambling, and Mrs Marshall’s face went white and then red as she listened to her. ‘When did he say that he loved you?’

‘At his party. He was merry.’ She smiled. She was quite sure that he had meant to say he loved her even if he hadn’t uttered the actual words. ‘He’s really quite shy. But I understand him. I know exactly how he feels about me.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Mrs Marshall said quietly. ‘You must realize that there’d be a scandal if his parents heard about it, and that won’t do at all. Not in this household.’

‘But they won’t hear about it,’ Ellen objected. ‘We’d keep it secret. Like we’ve been doing all this time.’ In her mind, the secret meetings in the meadows when they were young had become love trysts, not childish games.

‘Get off to bed now,’ the cook said. ‘Let’s sleep on ’situation and see what we come up with.’

But Mrs Marshall didn’t sleep. This predicament that was Ellen’s own passion and fantasy could reverberate through the entire staff with dreadful consequences for them all, and fond as she was of the girl, she did not want to jeopardize her own position in the household if there should be a scandal.

She got up the next morning tired and with a headache but with a decision made. Of course she couldn’t speak to the master or the mistress herself; nor could she trust the housekeeper with the information. There was only one person who could convey the message that something must be done about Master Christopher and that was Mr Stephens.