‘Where is it? Where is it?’ I muttered feverishly. Oh, where was the gate? Surely it should be here somewhere?

  At last I found it but it had been shut and locked from the other side.

  ‘Let me in! Let me in!’

  For a few moments I hammered uselessly on the gate but then I realised that there was no one to hear. I could not return the way I’d come – and I certainly wasn’t going back to the summer house. There must be another way to approach the house… yes, up there to the right there was a narrow path. I would follow that and see where it led.

  When I came to another high wall I was afraid that I would, after all, have to go back to the summer house and beg Mr Lucas to show me the way out, but after some searching, I found the gate that he must have used earlier. He had left it carelessly unlatched and it stood slightly ajar, inviting me to pass through.

  Realising that I was in the formal gardens at the front of the house, I felt a tingle of apprehension: I was not allowed to come here unless sent on an errand for the family. I hesitated, unwilling to break more rules than I already had – but what else could I do? Time was passing and I would be sure to receive a scolding from either Cook or Mrs Jermyns: I dare not waste any more precious seconds. I would have to risk it and pray that no one saw me. Taking a deep breath I began to run across the lawns as fast as I could; I was about halfway when I saw the small group of people come out of the front door.

  It was the family themselves and I became flustered as I saw they had noticed me; I stepped on something slippery, tripped and fell flat on my face. For a moment I lay winded, too surprised and shocked to move, then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into a face I recognised. I sat up hastily, my cheeks on fire.

  ‘Begging your pardon, Miss Alice,’ I cried. ‘I know I shouldn’t be here but I got lost and the gate was shut – and it won’t happen again…’

  ‘Have you hurt yourself?’ Alice Harrington asked, a note of concern in her voice. ‘You fell very hard.’

  Getting to my feet I brushed at the grass stains and debris on my white apron. The palm of my hand was stinging where I’d grazed it but I shook my head.

  ‘It was my own fault, miss.’

  ‘You were nervous of something – or someone?’ Alice glanced towards the high wall. ‘You were in the wild garden… my nephew…’

  ‘Oh, no, miss, I wasn’t frightened of Mr Lucas,’ I said, understanding the look in her eyes. ‘I was scared because I knew I shouldn’t be here. I went for a walk because it was so hot in the laundry and my eyes stung and then the gate was locked and I couldn’t get back—’

  ‘You met Mr Lucas?’

  ‘Yes, miss. He told me I wasn’t to go to his special place again but—’ I faltered. ‘It was just so hot in the laundry room and I…’

  ‘He spoke to you?’

  ‘Yes, miss, for a few minutes. He was a bit cross but he didn’t seem too angry, he just teased me a little.’

  ‘My nephew teased you?’ Alice’s eyes narrowed intently. ‘Please tell me what he said to you?’

  ‘He asked if I’d come to spy on him and said I was braver than most, but then when I asked about his dabblings he got cross and told me to stop bothering him. He said if I went there again he would gobble me up – but of course he was only teasing me.’

  Alice looked peculiar and I caught my breath.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve done something awful, miss.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not at all. It’s just that my nephew seldom speaks to anyone – and never to strangers.’

  ‘I’m not lying, miss. He did say those things to me.’

  ‘I believe you, Nellie.’ A smile flickered in her gentle eyes. ‘So how are you getting on here? It’s not as bad as you feared, I hope?’ She frowned as I did not answer at once. ‘Are you unhappy with us?’

  ‘No, miss. At least…’

  ‘Please go on, Nellie.’

  ‘It’s just that I don’t like being in the laundry room all the time. The smell of soda makes my eyes water and sometimes I feel as if I can’t breathe; it was always like that at home too. I like helping Cook, miss, and I don’t mind what else I do – I’ll do anything but that!’

  ‘Yes, I understand. I had no idea that’s where you had been put. I shall speak to Mrs Jermyns about it and see what can be done.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Miss Alice,’ I cried. ‘I should be ever so grateful to you. I’ll do anything for you – anything!’

  ‘Will you indeed?’ Alice’s eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘Well, perhaps one day I’ll remind you of that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all,’ she said. ‘Run along now. I’m sure you must have work to do.’

  I had been dismissed. I turned and walked swiftly towards a covered walk that must lead eventually to the kitchen – and a scolding! But I didn’t care, I didn’t care. Miss Alice had promised to speak to the housekeeper about my working in the laundry and that was all that mattered.

  3

  ‘What you going to do on your day off then?’

  The question took me by surprise. Since the morning after my adventure in the wild garden, when I’d come downstairs to be told by Mrs Jermyns that I was not to go to the laundry but would help Cook instead, the days had just flown by without my noticing. I still missed my home, of course, and sometimes I felt upset as I wondered what I’d done to make my mother turn against me, but I was no longer desperately unhappy.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said now. ‘I could go home, I suppose, but it’s a long way to walk, especially if it rains.’

  Although generally a dry warm summer, it had been raining continuously for days now, preventing further exploration of the gardens even if I’d been tempted to return to the summer house. Not that I had either the intention or the inclination to risk another confrontation with Mr Lucas! I was content in the kitchens, especially now that Cook had taken an interest in me and was teaching me how to make delicious flaky pastry.

  ‘Always keep your dough cool and slightly dry,’ Mrs Jones told me. ‘But with flaky pastry the secret is in the layers and the rolling – you need a light touch for pastry.’

  ‘I’ve never tasted any as good as yours,’ I replied and received a beam of approval. ‘Mary Hopkin’s mother’s pastry was good, but yours just melts on the tongue.’

  ‘I do have a reputation for it,’ Cook replied, her chins waggling complacently. ‘It takes years to learn how to do things properly, but I think you might have a calling for it – and cooking is a calling, Nellie. You should remember that and don’t let anyone tell you different.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t, I promise you I won’t,’ I cried fervently. ‘I want to learn everything from you, Mrs Jones.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see, we’ll see – get off to the scullery and peel those potatoes now. First things first, you have to learn to walk before you can run, and preparation is important – don’t forget what I told you about putting them in cold water with a pinch of salt!’

  Cook did go on about things sometimes, but she was easy to be with if you kept on the right side of her and I’d been happy these past weeks, much happier than I’d expected. I hadn’t given much thought to going home on my day off and now that Iris had raised the subject I wasn’t sure what I wanted. By the time I’d walked there and back it wouldn’t leave much time for visiting inbetween.

  ‘Do we have to have a day off every month?’ I asked when Iris joined me later.

  ‘Don’t say you don’t want your day off!’ Iris rolled her eyes then went into peals of laughter, her thin face lighting up from inside, making her look more attractive than usual. ‘You’re the funny one, Nellie Pearce. When you came here you were like a Christian slave thrown to the lions. Now you don’t want to go home.’

  That wasn’t true. I would have liked to see Da and Grandad, my brother too, but I was still upset with Ma and I was afraid that if I went home, I wouldn’t want to leave. I’d got used to it now but if I saw Grandad it would make it harder to return here.

  Iris went to choir practice one evening a week – a special dispensation granted by Lady Amelia herself at the vicar’s request, because Iris had a good voice and never missed church on Sundays. I’d gone with her the previous week and I knew the curate had been discussing the story of ‘Daniel in the lions’ den’ with her when they stopped to talk after the service. The curate was a young man in his early twenties and quite good-looking; I suspected that Iris might be a little sweet on him despite all her protestations about never getting married.

  ‘Well, do we? Couldn’t I work three months say, then have three days off all at once?’

  ‘You and your fancy ideas! Whatever next?’

  ‘It would be worth going home then, for three days.’

  ‘You’d better ask Mrs Jermyns.’

  ‘Right, I will then.’

  Iris stared at me as I dried my hands on the kitchen towel, then smoothed my hair to make sure there were no straggling wisps escaping from beneath my cap.

  ‘Do I look all right?’

  ‘You’re never going to ask ’er?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it, Nellie. She’ll never agree to you going off for three days at a go.’

  ‘Maybe she will if I ask her.’

  ‘Rather you than me.’

  I shrugged. ‘You never get anything if you don’t ask.’

  Iris watched as I walked from the kitchen. I stuck my head in the air, unwilling to let on that I was shaking in my shoes at the prospect of bearding Mrs Jermyns in her den, but just as loath to let go of the idea now that it had occurred to me. Why shouldn’t I have three days all at once if I was willing to give up my regular day?

  Mrs Jermyns’s sitting room was at the top of the stairway leading up from the servants’ hall and just a few steps away from where the family’s part of the house began. As yet I’d never been there or into the upper regions of Beaumont House, except by the back stairs that led to the attic nest I shared with Iris. My heart was pounding as I walked up the last few stairs and turned right. Taking a deep breath I stopped outside the first door and raised my hand to knock, then hesitated as I saw it was slightly ajar.

  ‘Do you expect me to believe you haven’t been meeting him?’

  The sharp voice made me jump back. That wasn’t Mrs Jermyns; I must have come to the wrong door! I was about to turn away when a voice I recognised answered the first and something made me linger, despite knowing full well that I had no right to eavesdrop.

  ‘I really don’t mind what you believe, Amelia. If I wanted to meet Gerald that would be my business…’

  ‘I’m not sure that Charles would agree.’

  ‘I am no longer a child. Not that I was a child then,’ Alice Harrington went on in the same steady tone. ‘I was however young enough to believe that my brother might know best – and to consider it my duty to obey him.’

  ‘It is still your duty to listen to him.’ The sharp voice I now realised must belong to Lady Amelia rose higher. ‘You may be in possession of your own income but you still live under our roof, and while you do, you owe us both a duty to behave respectably.’

  ‘I shall of course listen to my brother, if he chooses to speak to me on any reasonable subject – but as I have not spoken to Gerald since—’ There was a catch in Alice’s voice. ‘Please excuse me, Amelia. I have business elsewhere.’

  ‘Alice!’

  There was a rattle as if Alice had seized the door handle, but she must have attended to her sister-in-law’s cry because she did not open it immediately. Startled, I turned and fled the way I’d come before I could be discovered in the act of listening to their conversation.

  In the small, dark hall at the bottom of the stairs I paused to catch my breath, my thoughts whirling in confusion. I’d had no right to listen to the argument between Miss Alice and Lady Harrington, but remembering what Iris had told me the night I’d arrived I had no doubt that Miss Alice’s sweetheart had turned up out of the blue – and was putting the cat among the pigeons by the sound of it!

  Hearing a shriek of laughter, I turned and saw Iris come out of the kitchen with Henry Brooks close behind her. He appeared to be patting Iris on the bottom and whispering something in her ear; they both stopped and looked guilty as they saw me.

  Iris frowned. ‘Did you speak to Mrs Jermyns?’

  ‘I think I turned the wrong way – her room was to the right at the top of the stairs, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You daft thing!’ Iris cried, her frown disappearing. ‘Mrs Jermyns’ sitting room is on the left – right’s the flower room, don’t say you went in there? You probably found Miss Alice there, did you?’

  ‘I didn’t go in, but she was in there and – and I think Lady Amelia was with her.’

  ‘You don’t say!’ Iris looked curious as she gave Henry Brooks a push to send him on his way. ‘What was she doing there? Miss Alice always does the flowers, ’er ladyship never ventures this far below stairs – what were they saying?’

  ‘I’m not sure…’ I felt myself blushing as I told the small lie. ‘I didn’t listen, I just ran back down here quick.’

  ‘I would have listened,’ Iris said, a gleam in her eyes. ‘I bet they were arguing about something. That’s usually why ’er highness follows poor Miss Alice down here. She goes on to ’er something rotten at times, I don’t know how Miss Alice stands it. I wouldn’t! If I had ’er money I’d be off like a shot.’

  ‘Has Miss Alice got money then?’

  ‘More than her brother and his wife. She’s only Sir Charles’s half-sister really, and her mother was an heiress so most of it was left in trust for her until she was thirty. He had charge of it until then; you know the way these families tie every penny up. Well, she couldn’t touch it without his say-so until about three years ago…’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ I said. ‘Is that why she didn’t go off with her sweetheart?’

  Iris shrugged. ‘It might have had something to do with it, but she’s got a strong sense of duty, probably thought she ought to do as her brother told her.’

  ‘Yes…’ I’d heard Miss Alice say something like that a moment or two ago. ‘But she’s older now and independent. She might act differently this time, mightn’t she?’

  ‘You did hear something – tell me!’ Iris grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh. ‘Go on, be fair. I tell you everything.’

  I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Well… if you promise not to tell anyone else?’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘What are you two doing whispering out here? Don’t you have any work to do?’

  The sharp note in Mrs Jermyns’s voice made us both jump guiltily. Iris gave me an agonised look, then turned to the housekeeper.

  ‘I was just on my way upstairs, Mrs Jermyns.’

  ‘Get off with you then.’ The older woman’s gaze came to rest on me. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I was looking for you, Mrs Jermyns,’ I said. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘It’s… it’s about my day off.’

  ‘Ah, yes, you’re due one this weekend – have you made arrangements for a lift?’

  ‘No.’ I licked my lips nervously. ‘I was wondering if I could put it off…’

  ‘You don’t want to go home?’

  ‘No – at least, not yet. I would like to wait until nearer Christmas then have three days at home, if that would be all right? I mean I would work until then—’

  ‘You want three days all at once?’ Mrs Jermyns sounded incredulous. ‘I’ve never heard such a request. Ridiculous!’

  ‘It would be easier for the journey,’ I persisted. ‘I’d have time to see my family instead of rushing there and back and I’d work every off day until then.’

  ‘That’s four days you’ll have owing.’ Mrs Jermyns stared at me hard. ‘You will give up four days to have three at home?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘You don’t get your wages until you have a day off.’

  ‘I don’t need anything,’ I said, desperate to succeed now. I hadn’t even been sure I would get paid. No one had mentioned it until now. ‘It would be so much easier for me.’

  ‘It would save Henry the bother of taking you there in the car certainly.’ Mrs Jermyns nodded. ‘Three days instead of four – very well, but don’t expect such favours every time.’

  ‘Was Henry going to take me this weekend?’

  ‘Miss Alice had requested it,’ Mrs Jermyns replied. ‘But since you’ve asked for three days before Christmas you can go with the carrier. I’ll arrange it for you myself – now get on with your work.’

  I watched as she walked up the stairs and turned to her left. Henry Brooks had been asked to take me home so I wouldn’t have had to walk in the rain. I’d given up four days for three. My triumph was washed away by a wave of disappointment and I felt let down; I’d made a fool of myself and Mrs Jermyns must be laughing at me.

  I felt despondent as I went into the kitchen, but my mood lifted as I saw Cook shaping a mound of profiteroles that would be filled with cream and trickled with warm chocolate sauce.

  ‘They look good.’ I went to stand and watch those short, stubby fingers work a culinary miracle. ‘Can I have a go?’

  ‘Not with these, they’re for the family,’ Cook replied. ‘But I made extra for us – you can use mock cream and practise if you like.’ She gave me a severe look. ‘That doesn’t mean I’ll accept less than excellence, though. Now watch how I pipe the cream and then you can try for yourself.’

  ‘That’s the last of the honey – now what am I to do?’ Cook grumbled as she scraped out the glass jar. ‘Someone is going to have to fetch it – where’s Henry?’

  ‘Gone out with Sir Charles in the car,’ Doris ventured with her mouth full. ‘I saw him cleaning it when I came from the laundry room earlier.’

  ‘I can’t make honey cake without honey.’ Cook glanced round the kitchen. ‘Her ladyship requested it specially for this afternoon – you’ll have to go, Nellie.’

 

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