Together for Christmas (7 page)

It was not long before the sun shone again and the woods were behind them. Flora took a sharp breath at the landscape now revealed. Green fields and parkland curved into a
graceful arc around a large mansion. The four marble columns that Hilda had described from the library book gleamed brightly. The winding pathway that Hilda had wanted to walk down curled out of
the woods and down to the house. The gravel surface swept up to a large fountain in front of splendid doors. Four floors and gabled attics rose above them. Flora lost count of the chimneys. She was
dazzled by the many tall windows.

‘Adelphi Hall is beautiful,’ Hilda said the moment she saw the house. ‘Better even than Buckingham Palace.’

Flora smiled. She had to agree that in its own way Adelphi Hall had a particular majesty. Her gaze settled on the lush hedges and manicured gardens surrounding the house; she thought how sweet
the air smelled. In the distance, she could see white dots in the fields. These must be sheep, she decided, though they looked unmoving as large black crows soared above them.

A motorized vehicle chugged slowly up the drive and paused outside the house. ‘Look, a motor car, just like Lady Hailing’s,’ Hilda cried. ‘Oh, Albert, stop the cart, will
you? I want to remember all this when I get back to London.’

Albert drew the cart to a halt. The two girls sprang to their feet, craning their necks to watch the visitor climb out.

‘It’s a gentleman,’ Flora said as she caught a brief glance of a tall, striking-looking figure being greeted by a servant. ‘But I can’t see very much
more.’

‘I wonder if it’s Lord Guy,’ said Hilda excitedly.

‘Who’s Lord Guy?’

‘He’s the son of Lord William.’

Flora thought about what Mrs Bell had said about Lord Guy. She wondered if Hilda had taken much note.

‘The earl himself is rarely seen by anyone,’ Hilda continued, ‘but it’s Lord Guy and his aunt Bertha, Lord William’s sister, who run the house, together with Lady
Bertha’s husband, James Forsythe.’

‘You seem to be well up on all this,’ Flora said in surprise.

Hilda grinned. ‘I told you, I’ve read books and magazines.’

‘I hope you’ve not got any daft ideas.’

‘I shall be rubbing shoulders with gentry,’ Hilda boasted.

‘As a servant, you won’t mix with the family.’

‘As Lady Bertha’s maid, I will.’ Hilda straightened her spine and proudly lifted her chin. ‘Just think, I’ll not have to wear a pinafore, nor will I share a room
with any of the lower servants.’

‘Better get cracking, miss,’ Albert said impatiently.

Flora feared that Hilda was allowing her imagination to run away with her. Hilda had been trained as a housemaid and never experienced working in a country house. The rules would be very
different. And she was expecting to rise quickly through the ranks of the servants, but Flora wondered if Hilda’s dream was even a possibility.

Albert urged the horse on. A smaller lane took them to the side of the house and through another wooded area. Flora noted as they emerged from the trees again that the gardens and lawns were as
immaculate as at the front. Here and there were beds of flowers, all tended to perfection. A Grecian statue of a half-clothed woman was the first of many decorating the gardens. When they came to a
set of stone arches, beyond which there were stables and outhouses, Flora glimpsed a line of high walls and vines growing thickly over them. All the paths were swept clear of weeds and had borders
of small plants that looked recently added to the well-tended earth.

The courtyard was very busy with stable hands. Some youths were cleaning and brushing the cobbles. Others were grooming the horses which were tethered outside the many boxes. Several younger
boys in dirty breeches and heavy boots used spades to fill their barrows.

Albert stopped the cart and climbed down. ‘I’m off to the find water and a nosebag for the horse,’ he told them as he helped them from the cart. ‘Looks like the kitchens
might be over there, through the garden beyond to the back of the house.’

Flora and Hilda nodded in silence. Flora knew Hilda was nervous. Her face was pale and her brown eyes full of apprehension. They made their way together along the path and Flora heard
Hilda’s gasp as the magnificent building rose above them.

‘It’s so big,’ said Hilda. ‘I wonder who cleans all them windows?’

Flora was thinking the same. She hoped it wouldn’t be Hilda’s job.

They passed several ornamental ponds and nodded to an older man who was trimming the hedges with shears. A smaller paved courtyard led up to the back door. Two women stood talking. The younger,
who wore a pinafore and mob cap, hurried into the house. The remaining woman was in her fifties, Flora guessed, and her tall, erect posture, her black garb and silk apron trimmed with black beads,
indicated her high rank. Her white collar was ruffled around her neck and a ring of keys hung at her waist.

‘Do you think it’s Mrs Burns?’ whispered Hilda nervously. ‘Oh, Flora, do I look all right? Will she like me?’

Flora smiled. ‘Course she will.’

‘I feel sick with nerves.’

‘No, you don’t.’ Hilda squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘You’ll make a fine impression.’

But Flora felt her heart sink a little. The face beneath the white lace cap showed little welcome. A tight mouth and unsmiling eyes gave nothing away as she clasped her hands in front of her and
narrowed her gaze at their approach.

‘You must be Jones,’ the housekeeper said to Hilda.

‘Hilda Jones,’ replied Hilda breathlessly.

‘We refer to lowers by their surnames. You may call me Mrs Burns.’

‘Thank you,’ Hilda said, adding quickly, ‘Mrs Burns.’

‘And this?’ The housekeeper frowned at Flora.

‘I’m Flora Shine, Hilda’s travelling companion,’ answered Flora, as Hilda seemed all of a fluster.

Mrs Burns looked them up and down. ‘We follow the rule of invitation here. Myself and Mr Leighton, the butler, must be consulted first. But, since you’ve had some way to travel,
you’d better come in.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Burns,’ Hilda said again.

Mrs Burns led them inside the house. ‘You’ve arrived at a busy time. Mrs Harris is just cooking the staff meal. I usually conduct interviews in the morning,’ she said over her
shoulder, ‘but you’re fortunate that I can see you as most of the family are away.’

Despite the cool welcome, Flora was impressed by the busy kitchen, with staff darting here and there. Trays were held high over people’s heads and uniformed footmen shooed maids out of
their way. Flora stared around the large room full of shining pots, pans and freshly washed cutlery. Flora saw the cook, a small woman with very red cheeks, busy at the stoves. Around her worked
the kitchen staff, carrying and fetching the dishes.

‘This is Mrs Harris.’ Mrs Burns said, nodding to the cook.

Mrs Harris gave them a quick glance but said nothing.

‘Follow me.’ Mrs Burns led them through the kitchen and into a passage. They flattened themselves against the wall as a footman rushed past. He was carrying a tray of glasses and a
decanter. Dressed in a black coat with brass buttons and starched shirt front, the good-looking young man smiled.

They were on their way again, hurrying after Mrs Burns. At the end of the passage, an older man in a black-tailed suit stepped into their path. Flora noted his immaculate appearance.

‘Mr Leighton, this is Jones,’ Mrs Burns announced. ‘Lady Hailing’s recommendation.’

Flora watched Hilda almost curtsey. She knew her friend was trying to make a good impression.

‘And the other?’ the butler asked in a gruff voice.

‘Her companion for the day.’

‘An unfortunate time to arrive,’ Mr Leighton muttered.

‘Yes,’ agreed Mrs Burns. ‘But allowances must be made for the length of the journey.’

Mr Leighton curled his hand over the two inches of greying hair on his head. ‘Perhaps, Mrs Burns, you might like to use my rooms, as we are so busy. I’m to be upstairs for Lord
William in just a few minutes.’

‘Thank you, Mr Leighton.’ The housekeeper turned to Hilda. ‘Follow me.’ Then, as if remembering Flora, she added, ‘You’ll wait in Mr Leighton’s
office.’

Flora was about to thank her – or the butler, she didn’t know whom – when a commotion came from behind them. Flora turned to see a young maid on her knees and recognized her as
the girl she’d seen outside with Mrs Burns. Her apron and the floor were covered in what looked like soup.

Mr Leighton strode towards her. Flora could hear the angry tone of his voice as the maid tried to clean up the mess. Flora felt sorry for her. She must have bumped into the footman who’d
been rushing down the passage with a soup tureen.

‘You clumsy girl,’ called Mrs Burns, and Hilda met Flora’s glance. Her friend gave a stifled giggle. But Flora didn’t think there was anything amusing about the
maid’s predicament.

Once more, they were flying down the passage. The dark wood surrounding them and lack of light made the downstairs rooms very gloomy. But at least here, thought Flora, the rooms were cooler,
being away from the intense heat of the kitchens.

‘Here,’ said Mrs Burns as they entered a room. There was a highly polished desk in front of Flora, with a high back and thick ledgers neatly balanced in a row. The big chair beside
it had spindles forming a pattern from the seat to the headrest. Beside it was a small table at which a simple wooden chair stood. Flora decided it was here she must sit.

‘Jones?’ Mrs Burns crooked a long, bony finger at Hilda. Picking up her skirts in an effort to catch up with the housekeeper, Hilda almost tripped over. Receiving a glare from the
older woman, the two figures disappeared from sight.

In silence, Flora sat on the smaller chair and looked around her. The dark wood felt oppressive; though the fire was made up in the hearth, it wasn’t lit. Two un-cushioned leather
armchairs stood to either side of it. A number of black-framed photographs were mounted on the walls. Just below the ceiling there was a long wooden rack with a row of labelled metal bells.

Flora began to feel thirsty. They had gone all morning without a drink. Breakfast, a crust of bread and cheese eaten in the cart, had been hours ago.

How different this was to Mrs Bell’s cosy kitchen, Flora thought with dismay. She looked at the door that Hilda had gone through. It remained firmly shut and so Flora sat back, trying to
ignore the loud rumbling of her tummy.

‘’Ello, miss.’ The maid who’d had the accident with the soup stood before Flora, carrying a tray full of silver pots. ‘You been waiting all this
time?’

‘I was told to sit here by Mrs Burns while she interviews my friend, Hilda.’

‘Oh, is she the new girl? The one we was told was coming from London?’

Flora nodded. ‘Hilda’s in – or was in – service to Lady Hailing.’ To Flora, the little maid looked no more than a child. She was scrawny, and her head looked too
big for her small body. Her cap was pulled down over her straggly brown hair, wisps of which burst out over her pale face. Her apron still bore the stains of the soup. ‘Did you hurt yourself
when you fell?’ Flora asked kindly.

‘Nah. Gets knocked about regular, but it don’t worry me. Mrs Harris belts me with a wooden spoon when she’s a mind to. But I don’t care. I’m from the workhouse,
see. Anyfink’s better than that.’

Flora smiled. ‘I’m Flora.’ She stretched out her hand.

The maid giggled. She put her small, damp hand in Flora’s. ‘I’m Gracie, the scullery maid. I should be Smith, but everyone just yells Gracie. Dunno why. You coming to work here
an’ all?’

‘No, I just travelled up with Hilda. She’s my best friend, you see.’

‘I’d like a best friend meself,’ Gracie said brightly. ‘I ain’t never ’ad one. It’s everyone for themselves in the work’ouse.’

‘I’m sure you’ll like Hilda,’ Flora assured her. ‘Hadn’t you better put those pots down? They look very heavy.’

Gracie gave a little chuckle. ‘I’m taking ’em to Mr Leighton’s pantry. All the silver’s cleaned there by the footman. James is the one wot ran over me.’

‘You took a hard fall.’

‘Never mind. I ain’t crippled, am I?’ She glanced at a closed door on the other side of the room. ‘Come wiv me, if you like.’

‘What about Mrs Burns and Mr Leighton?’

‘We won’t be long.’

Reluctantly, Flora followed Gracie. She hoped the butler wouldn’t appear suddenly. Or Mrs Burns cut short her interview with Hilda.

‘This is Mr Leighton’s dining room and pantry,’ Gracie explained as they entered a room fitted with a long table, with six or so chairs on either side. Gracie placed the tray
on the table. There were cupboards and drawers to the rear and a low sink and draining board next to a small annexe. Gracie set the tray down by a tall cupboard. ‘The silver’s washed
and polished here, and over there is the safe where all the valuables is kept. It’s only Mr Leighton wot has the key.’ Gracie indicated another door fitted with a large brass lock.
‘Down there’s the cellar. Great big blooming place it is, with booze of all sorts. Spirits, ales, sherries and ports, cases of the best champagne and wines from all over the world. Mr
Leighton’s in charge of that an’ all.’

‘I think we’d better go back.’ Flora felt uneasy, as if she was snooping.

Gracie smiled secretively, her pale, thin face almost lost under her cap. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t know we’ve been ’ere.’

Flora followed Gracie back to the office, her heart thumping, and quickly sat down on her chair.

Gracie stared at her. ‘Bet you’re gasping, ain’t you?’

Flora nodded. ‘I am a little.’

‘I’ll see if I can get yer a cuppa.’

‘Oh, don’t trouble yourself.’

Gracie winked. ‘I’ll tell Mrs ’Aarris you’re a breath off fainting.’

‘Oh, no, don’t!’ Flora called, but Gracie scurried off. Flora hoped Gracie wouldn’t get them into trouble. Flora didn’t want to create a poor impression for
Hilda’s sake.

The minutes ticked by, and Flora’s eye was caught by the many photographs on the walls. As neither Gracie nor Mr Leighton had returned, she got up to look at them. One was dated January
1912 and this made Flora smile. She recognized Mrs Burns and Mr Leighton immediately, with their sombre expressions and backs stiff as brooms. They were the only two members of the large group of
staff who were seated.