Secrets and Lords

‘Yes, look at me, I’m told I favour Little Tich.’

Edie burst out laughing. ‘Oh, you don’t!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s a wicked and cruel thing to say.’

Verity, the senior housemaid of the group, stood in the doorway tutting.

‘Enough of that,’ she said. ‘You’ll be late for breakfast. Jenny, you aren’t her lady’s maid, for heaven’s sake. If she can’t do her own hair, it’s high time she learned.’

Downstairs – such a way downstairs – Edie served herself a ladleful of porridge from the big pan and sat down at the long trestle. She did not want to draw attention to herself, but she had questions on her mind and hoped somebody would be able to answer them.

In the event, Ted did the job for her, without her having to say a word.

‘Morning, Topsy,’ he said, ruffling her hair as he passed. ‘Can’t stay, I’m afraid – got to take His Lordship to London.’

‘He is going away?’

‘Yes, some shindig at the club, birthday do, I think. Nice little jaunt to the Smoke for me. Wish you could come.’

‘Ted,’ reproved Mrs Munn. ‘That will do.’

He saluted her and made a brisk exit, grabbing his peaked cap from the nail by the door as he went.

‘In view of yesterday’s somewhat inauspicious start,’ Mrs Munn continued, addressing herself to Edie, ‘I’m going to have Jenny keep an eye on you again today. If there’s any repetition of the fiasco with the mirror, I’ll have to consider letting you go. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly, Mrs Munn,’ said Edie, feeling like a recalcitrant schoolgirl. No Latin prose had ever been as challenging as the mysteries of cleaning and serving, though.

* * *

‘Ted likes you,’ said Jenny, kneeling down beside Edie to sweep the first of a great many fireplaces free of ashes.

‘Oh, he’s a ladies’ man, though, isn’t he? I bet he’s like that with all the girls.’

‘Not all of them,’ Jenny insisted. ‘A lot of the girls are after him, though. He does wear that uniform well.’ She let out a tiny sigh.

‘Oh, Jenny, do you …?’ She left the question delicately poised.

‘It’s a silly daydream, that’s all it is. Plain little Jenny Wrens don’t land fellows like that. I’ll live and die in this place, I don’t doubt.’

‘Oh, don’t say that.’ But Edie knew Jenny was right. Men were scarce these days and those who remained were keenly sought after.

‘I suppose Ted fought in the war?’

‘Yes, he was an infantryman. Fought in the trenches, he did. He won’t never talk about it though. Says he’d rather forget all about it.’

‘And what about … the Deverell sons?’ Edie’s heart stepped up its pace at the mere mention of the name. Damn Charles Deverell and his insidious ways. ‘Did they go to the Front?’

‘Yes, both of them. I’ve told you, haven’t I, about poor Sir Thomas and his shrapnel wound. Very unlucky. Mind you, I suppose he’s still alive, at least.’

Edie wanted to ask after Charles, but she did not trust herself to speak his name without putting in some nuance of tone that might give her away. Jenny already suspected her of a pash on him. Was she right? No, she could not be right. The man was a perfect stranger, and not a very nice one at that.

Instead, they chatted about inconsequential things while grates were black-leaded and floors swept.

They were working in the morning room, Edie on her knees, making heavy work of polishing the fender, when their joint rendition of ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ was silenced by the entrance of a family member.

‘No, do continue,’ Charles said, sinking into a chair and unfolding a newspaper. ‘A little music while I read would be rather congenial, as it happens.’

Edie’s fingers clenched around the cloth, her arm too stiff to move for a moment or two. She did not dare move, knowing that every inch of her skin from the tips of her ears downwards was burning bright. She willed Jenny to ignore her.

‘How’s our new girl?’ he asked softly. ‘Getting into the swing of things?’

Edie made no reply, and Charles did not pursue the conversation. For a deeply uncomfortable half-hour there was no sound but the rustling of newspaper and the scrubbing of iron. She was mortifyingly aware of her bottom sticking out in its tight black skirt, swaying from side to side as she worked. She felt sure that Charles Deverell was watching it. Her skin prickled, an itch at the back of her neck. And something else too – a damp heat between her thighs that she wished would go away.

A masculine cough, the click of a lighter, then the smell of cigarette smoke wafting over her. He wanted her to be aware of him. With rising excitement she wondered, what would happen if Jenny was not in the room?

Would he come over to her, crouch down beside her, tell her he knew that she thought of him, put his hand on her spine and rub it up and down, moving ever lower until he reached her bottom …

This was not a profitable line of speculation. She shut it down and forced herself to concentrate on conferring a high shine upon the poker and the shovel instead.

The only person to come and crouch beside her was Jenny.

‘Next room,’ she whispered. ‘Grate’s looking lovely, too, that’s a nice job you’ve done.’

Only because she had displaced all her thoughts about Charles into hard work, Edie realised. The next task might not absorb her so thoroughly.

She picked up her trug and tried to walk primly out of the room without looking at the indolent Lord in his chair of state, but at the last minute she flicked him a sideways glance and saw that he was watching her.

She lifted her chin higher and stared ahead.

‘Dinner at eight again? I’ll look forward to it,’ he drawled as she hurried through the door.

‘What was all that? Why are you flirting with him?’ hissed Jenny, once they had attained the freedom of the corridor.

‘Flirting with him! I’m doing no such thing. I didn’t even look at him, didn’t even answer his question.’

‘To him, that’s flirting. The more you run, the harder he chases. The worst thing you can do is ignore him.’

‘But that makes no sense. Are you saying that I should, should … make sheep’s eyes at him and then he’ll lose interest and pursue some other poor girl? Perhaps I should offer myself to him. Is that what I should do?’

Her agitation seemed to quell Jenny’s suspicions, but she did not sound entirely convinced when she said, ‘I’m sorry. You weren’t flirting, I know that. But I’d make sure I was never alone in a room with him if I was you.’

He ruins girls. He could ruin me.

Chapter Three (#u2f8c18b7-ecc3-5a7e-afc3-0fc6d3c60067)

Carrie, the indisposed housemaid, was better and so Edie was not called upon to serve the family at dinner that night.

Instead she sat in the kitchen with the cook, the scullery maids and various low-level male staff, drifting in and out of their conversation while she stitched at a rent she had made in her sleeve.

‘You’re accident-prone, you, aren’t yer?’ remarked Mrs Fingall, tiring of some talk about how Lady Mary had reacted to a mail delivery that morning.