The Maid's Secret Page 3

  They passed the kitchen door as they made their way to the stables and Christopher saw Ellen and another maid standing outside. They both bobbed their knees and retreated into the kitchen. They didn’t have to do that, he thought. Was that a resting period before going upstairs to clear away the tea things? He felt guilty about disturbing them, but also thought that he would wander outside again at the same time on another day in the hope of catching Ellen alone and speaking to her as he had previously. I will have to do it soon, he thought, as I shall be going back to school before long and the opportunity will be lost.

  The two young boys were not impressed with Sorrel and boasted that they would be getting stallions when they were old enough.

  ‘So will I,’ he told them in an unusual show of pique, ‘but I won’t have to wait as long as you will,’ which shut them up immediately.

  The girl, whose name he had already forgotten, patted the horse’s neck, turned round and went back towards the house.

  I must try to come outside at the same time tomorrow, Ellen thought, and preferably on my own. Master Christopher looked as though he would have liked to come over, but how can I take more than a few minutes without anyone noticing?

  There was only one way, she thought, and that was to call on Cook’s good nature. ‘Mrs Marshall,’ she whispered, ‘I think that Master Christopher wants to speak to me about something. I saw him just now when I was outside with Flo and he was making signals behind the boys’ backs. Flo didn’t notice and I couldn’t make out what he meant.’ It was an exaggeration, but Mrs Marshall didn’t know that.

  ‘Why would he want to talk to you?’

  ‘I don’t know. But he doesn’t seem to have anyone to confide in, does he? I just wondered, should I try and step outside after tea tomorrow so that if he comes by I could ask him what’s troubling him.’

  Cook frowned. ‘He’d surely ask somebody else if summat was amiss? He wouldn’t ask a servant.’

  ‘Not normally he wouldn’t, I suppose,’ Ellen agreed. ‘But who would he ask? Sometimes there are things that you don’t want to talk about to your mother or father in case they think you’re being foolish, but it wouldn’t matter if it was someone ’same age as yourself. They would understand. Wouldn’t they?’ She put her head on one side as she posed the question. ‘Like when he wanted to show me his new horse.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Cook pondered. ‘He does seem a bit lonely sometimes.’ She shook a finger at Ellen. ‘All right, but don’t let Mr Stephens catch you, or I’ll be given ’sharp end of his tongue as well as you.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t,’ Ellen assured her. ‘He’ll never know.’ The butler went to his room for an afternoon nap at that time of day in order to prepare himself for the evening. He’ll not notice if I’m in or out.

  The next day, when tea was cleared away, Mrs Marshall was resting in her easy chair, Mr Stephens had gone to his room and the other maids were taking advantage of the spell of quiet, Ellen slipped silently outside, where she leaned on the wall and put her face up to the sun. She had been there only a few minutes when she heard the crunch of gravel and prayed that it wasn’t one of the horse lads or a gardener.

  ‘Hello,’ a soft voice greeted her. ‘Sorry. I always seem to disturb you.’

  Ellen opened her eyes, ‘Oh, no, it’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘I’m not needed for anything so I thought I’d mek ’most of ’sunshine for five minutes.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Christopher said. ‘But there’s nowhere for you to sit.’ He looked about him. ‘There’s a bench in the kitchen garden. Wouldn’t you like to go and rest yourself?’

  ‘I, erm, will it be all right?’ She hesitated. ‘We aren’t usually allowed in there unless it’s to fetch something, like onions or carrots, you know.’

  He put out his hand. ‘It will be fine.’ He smiled. ‘Come on, the gardener won’t question it if you’re with me.’

  ‘No, of course he won’t,’ she said. ‘It would be nice to tek ’weight off my feet for a minute.’

  His forehead creased. ‘You must get very tired, looking after us all day. You deserve a short break at least.’

  Ellen smiled up at him. How kind and thoughtful he was, and very handsome too. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Sometimes we do,’ but she made it sound as if it was the greatest pleasure and honour in the world to work for his family.

  That first meeting in the kitchen garden, with the earthy smell of vegetables and the sweet perfume of honeysuckle and roses that drifted over their heads from beyond the wall, led to several more before Christopher went back to school. Ellen daren’t exceed more than ten minutes, and not every day in case someone missed her, someone like Flo who seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, and asked Ellen a couple of times where she had been. Sometimes Ellen replied that she’d slipped upstairs to have five minutes on her bed; once she brought in a cabbage she’d picked up from a wooden box which was obviously meant for the kitchen. She just held it out on her hand as a silent answer.

  She and Christopher spoke of many things, but mainly he led the conversation, for she knew that the doings of a busy housemaid were not particularly interesting for a young gentleman to hear about. He told her about his school and his few friends there. ‘I like to be selective,’ he explained. ‘Not all the boys are people I would want as companions.’

  He asked her about her own friends, presuming, she thought, that she would have some among the staff as well as from her home life. She prevaricated. The only friend she had in the household was Mrs Marshall, the cook.

  ‘I’m selective too,’ she told him, although she could have said she was choosy. Choosy enough not to want to discuss personal matters with any of the young women who worked alongside her; she wasn’t the kind who shared confidences, nor would she want anyone tittle-tattling about her private life, even if she had one.

  ‘Parents don’t always understand,’ he said, confirming her observation to Cook. ‘They like us to mix with the right people, don’t they? I expect your parents are the same?’ He gazed down at her. ‘Do they expect you to marry someone who is in a similar station in life?’

  Ellen contemplated the comments her mother might make if she announced she was getting married. The first would be, was she in a hurry; second, was her suitor in work; and third, ‘Don’t come crying to me if it doesn’t work out,’ or ‘You made your bed, now lie in it.’ Her father wouldn’t say much at all, as he left all the important decisions to his wife. It was better that way, in case he got them wrong.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured. ‘They wouldn’t want me mixing with ’wrong sort.’

  When Christopher went back to school he told Ellen he wouldn’t be home again until Christmas. ‘Apart from being able to talk to you, Ellen, and riding Sorrel, the holiday has dragged. I’ve hardly seen my mother, and Father has been too busy to talk about the estate and I really wanted to discuss some farming matters.’ He reached for her hand. ‘So thank you, Ellen, thank you so much.’

  ‘For what?’ she whispered.

  ‘Why, for turning what would have been a boring holiday into a very pleasant one.’

  After he had left, it was Ellen who now found that time dragged. There had been a tinge of excitement in her life as she had dared to escape from the humdrum round of her daily routine to meet him secretly; but most of all she missed Christopher’s presence. That was how she thought of him now. Not Master Christopher the son of the house, but her friend, Christopher.

  Chapter Five

  ‘It’s just as well he’s gone back,’ Mrs Marshall mumbled shortly afterwards.

  ‘What? Sorry, what did you say, Cook?’ Ellen was putting cakes on a plate. Mrs Hart had invited some ladies for afternoon tea and the best china was being used. Ellen often wondered how Cook knew which tea service to produce for which guests.

  ‘Master Christopher. Just as well he’s gone back to school. I should never have let it happen.’

  She stopped speaking as Letty came into the kitchen and joined them
at the table. ‘Mrs Whitton said I was to ask if there’s anything you want me to do, Cook,’ she said.

  ‘I want you to mek yourself scarce for five minutes while I get on wi’ ’job in hand,’ she snapped. ‘Go and fill ’coal bucket if you’ve nowt else to do.’

  Letty scuttled off and Cook stood staring after her. ‘Daft young lass; she can never see when a job needs doing. Now then! What was I saying?’

  ‘Don’t know, Cook.’ Ellen turned to take the steaming kettle off the flame, intending to fill the teapot and get out of the kitchen as fast as she could.

  ‘Wait! I said I should never have let it happen.’

  Ellen paused, trying to look innocent. ‘Has summat happened?’

  ‘You know very well what I mean. When I said you could meet Master Christopher that time, I didn’t mean every day!’

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ Ellen protested. ‘Onny now and again.’

  ‘More’n was good for you or him,’ Cook hissed. ‘Somebody has told Mr Stephens that ’master’s son was seen wi’ one of ’young maids. I reckoned on I didn’t know what they was on about; then I said happen they were onny passing ’time of ’day.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But it onny teks one malevolent tongue and there’s a scandal out there.’

  Flo! Ellen calculated. She was the only one who had noted her absence, the only one who had asked where she had been and the only one who would take delight in spreading such a rumour.

  She shook her head. ‘Somebody out to mek trouble, Mrs Marshall,’ she said softly. ‘You and I know it’s nowt. And why shouldn’t ’young gentleman speak to one of ’servants if he’s a mind to? Some folk get nasty ideas, that’s what I say.’

  ‘Aye,’ the cook sighed. ‘I expect you’re right, but all ’same, it’s just as well he’s gone back.’

  But he’ll be home at Christmas and I’ll see him then. He said he would look forward to us talking again. Ellen was filled with elation and joyous anticipation. There was nothing and no one in her life that could give her such pleasure, such joy.

  Such was her obsession, she deliberately planned to detach herself from any rumours that might be circulating by giving Nathaniel Tuke a smile whenever she saw him, and if he came into the kitchen for a cup of tea as the outside lads sometimes did she would offer him a biscuit with his tea and let her fingers touch his, although she wasn’t at all attracted to him. When Letty said one day that she’d heard Tuke say he thought he was in with a chance with Ellen Fletcher, she didn’t refute it but merely raised her eyebrows and gave a slight smile. As the rumours died away, as they inevitably did, she decided that next time she must be more careful. Besides, if Christopher became aware that she was nervous of their meetings, he might be even more determined to see her.

  For two years, Christmas, Easter and summer saw their meetings become an exciting game to avoid being found out. When the kitchen garden became too obvious, sometimes Christopher would saddle up Sorrel and trot away to one of the meadows and Ellen would sneak out of the house and run unseen alongside a hedge to meet him there. They laughed at their deviousness as Christopher dismounted and helped her up into the saddle to trot once round the meadow before she had to dash away back to the house.

  When he became eighteen, he announced to his father that he didn’t want to go to university after all, but would like to come in to the estate immediately. ‘I can learn from you, Father,’ he said. ‘I can learn nothing about farming at university.’

  His father was pleased, but his mother wasn’t and said as much. ‘You will meet interesting people, Christopher,’ she said. ‘People you can invite to your home. Young men with sisters.’

  He blinked uncomprehendingly and then laughed and said, ‘I know what you’re up to, Mother. You are wanting to matchmake.’

  His mother didn’t laugh or even smile. ‘Of course I am. You need to find a suitable wife. Not yet, of course. But soon.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ his father bellowed. Then he patted his nose significantly and gave a sly wink. ‘Plenty of time. He has to live a bit first.’

  Which meant, as he told Christopher when his mother had left the room, that he should scatter a few wild oats before he contemplated marriage, a piece of advice that infuriated and disgusted his son.

  Now he was at home and almost of age, he no longer went down to the kitchen. He was the young master, and as such took his duties seriously as he followed in his father’s footsteps, and willingly became an apt pupil of the bailiff, touring the tenanted farms and learning the business of management, crops, acreage and animal husbandry.

  Nevertheless, he missed female companionship. He was a virile young man after all, and as he mused on this he realized he missed the easy relationship he had had with the maid Ellen. They had become friends, as much as that was possible given their immense difference in status, and he thought of her affectionately, although on looking back much later he realized that he shouldn’t have done.

  Oddly enough, the more he thought of her, the more often their paths seemed to cross; she served morning coffee and afternoon tea to his mother and her guests, and occasionally if his duties allowed he called in to greet them. Perhaps he wouldn’t have thought of doing so, but his mother asked him to. ‘You will be invited to their house parties,’ she said. ‘They need to know that you are available.’

  ‘But I’m busy during the day, Mother,’ he objected. ‘I may not be away at university, but I am still studying.’ She didn’t seem to understand that he took his responsibilities very seriously. Nevertheless, he was able to nod to Ellen or give her a smile as she handed him tea or a slice of cake, to let her know that he hadn’t forgotten her. There were also occasions when she just happened to be there when he passed the kitchen door on his way to the stables, and they would exchange a few words.

  ‘I wish we could meet sometimes, Ellen, but . . . ’

  ‘Oh, so do I,’ she murmured. ‘I do miss our talks; and what fun we had.’

  As he gazed at her, he realized, reluctantly, that the time for fun with a young servant girl had passed and he was now a responsible adult; his parents would take a very dim view of such a breach of convention should they ever hear of it.

  His twenty-first birthday was coming up fast and a big celebration was planned. On the day itself there was to be a luncheon and an evening banquet with guests from all over the county, many of whom would stay the night, but on the evening before his birthday there was to be another party for the tenant farmers and estate workers. A marquee had been ordered for the front lawn, barrels of ale had been delivered, and several pigs had already been slaughtered for spit roasting. Meat pies would be cooked and many desserts of fruit pies and syllabubs, jellies and gooseberry fools would be prepared. And there would be music for dancing.

  ‘I hope we’ll be able to sample some of this, Cook,’ Flo said, watching Mrs Marshall planning her menu. ‘I hope we’ll not be working all ’time at serving other folk!’

  ‘We’ll have to organize it, o’ course,’ Cook said, scratching her head with a pencil beneath her bonnet as she concentrated. ‘But we’ll get ’evening off. There’s extra staff coming in for the two days, but apart from that folks will just help themselves to food and drink. And then stagger off home,’ she added cynically.

  ‘So – will ’master and mistress come out and join us? And Master Christopher? It is his birthday after all,’ Ellen asked casually.

  ‘Oh, yes, I expect so, and I dare say some of ’county farmers’ sons will come as well. It’ll be less formal than on ’actual day; but I don’t suppose Mr Hart will stay long, nor ’mistress either. It’ll just be a polite half-hour to welcome everybody.’

  Good, Ellen thought. Then when they’ve gone back to ’house I might be able to snatch Christopher away for a short time. I’m sure he misses me just as much as I miss him. I know nothing can come of it, but . . . She mused on the various possibilities, the most important being that if he should marry, which inevitably he would, they might still meet secretly. It
will be an arranged marriage, she thought, not a proper love match, and I could become his wife’s personal maid so that I’d know her comings and goings, and that would enable me to be with Christopher when she was occupied. How exciting that would be. She felt flushed and elated as she considered it.

  The house servants had had a collection to buy a birthday present for Christopher, and Ellen had suggested a pair of leather riding gloves; the cost was within their means and Mr Stephens, the butler, arranged the purchase. They would be presented on the day of the tenant and staff celebration party.

  That week there was a constant bustle as food was ordered and prepared, the house was dusted and polished, and beds were prepared for the guests. On the day before the first party, the gardeners brought in flowers for the house and vegetables for the kitchen.

  As Ellen crossed the hall to go downstairs, Christopher hurried down the main staircase. She paused, supposing that the rules of being invisible applied when meeting him now, but he lifted his head and smiled. ‘Hello, Ellen. What a busy time everyone is having. You must all be worn out.’

  From the corner of her eye she saw Mr Stephens in the withdrawing room. Any moment now he would emerge. She dipped her knee and murmured, ‘We’re looking forward to ’event, sir.’ She lifted her eyes to his face and gave a demure smile. ‘And all of ’maids are hoping you’ll have a dance with them.’

  She dropped her eyes as Mr Stephens came into the hall, dipped her knee again and scuttled down the kitchen stairs.

  ‘What were you doing up there, Ellen?’ Mr Stephens asked when he came down shortly afterwards. ‘I hope you were not speaking to Master Christopher?’

  ‘He spoke to me, Mr Stephens,’ she said. ‘He asked if we were worn out with ’preparations and I said that we weren’t. I had to answer him, hadn’t I?’

  ‘Hmph.’ He was clearly not pleased, and Ellen thought that at any minute there would be a lecture on how things used to be in his day, when both servants and masters knew how to behave. There wasn’t, however, and she guessed that he must have thought twice about criticizing his employer’s son.