Women of Courage, page 29
‘So, why doesn’t their mother teach them?’
‘She’s dead, poor thing. I heard someone say she died giving birth to the youngest. I guess that’s why the girls are a bit wild, having no mam to keep them in check.’
‘I’ll go visit the butchers tomorrow and thank Mr. Morgan for his custom.’ Mother and daughter lock eyes, both full of happiness at the sudden turn of events.
‘Oh, let me hug you.’ Nell throws her arms around Faith.
‘Hug, hug!’ cries Bertie. Laughing they pick him up between them, including him in the merriest of embraces.
It is so dark when Faith sets off on the long trek to Driscoll Manor, even the morning bird call hasn’t commenced. Nor does she pass any miners on their way to the colliery. In fact, the only other person she knows for sure is up is Mr. Hughes, as the smell of bread wafting down the street makes her stomach rumble.
She’s been walking down the lane towards the manor for some time before the birds’ occasional chirps begin moving into full chorus. Fearing that dawn is fast approaching, which would mean she is late, Faith hitches up her skirts and begins to run as fast as she can. The further away from town she gets the more green there is to see. There is also a noticeable lack of industrial smell. Out of breath, hot and with a rapidly rising chest, she eventually arrives at the huge manor gates. Gazing in wonder at the stone lions perched upon the gate pillars she is momentarily struck with awe. At that precise moment, Lord Driscoll comes galloping down the path, having to pull his horse to a precarious halt to prevent running her down.
‘What on earth?’
Shaking, and more than a little afraid at her near death experience, Faith steps to the side and onto the grass. ‘I beg your pardon, m’lord, I didn’t think anyone would be on the path at this hour.’
Stopping his horse from prancing, he leans forward and strokes the beast’s neck. ‘Easy girl,’ he whispers. Straightening up again, he peers at Faith in the dim light of the setting moon. ‘What are you doing on the road at this hour, girl?’
Affronted at his tone, Faith bristles. ‘I am on my way to the kitchens to start my employ, m’lord.’ Her lips compress into a tight line, an unconscious demonstration of pure irritation.
‘You’ve walked here?’
‘Yes, m’lord.’
‘Good grief, you can’t walk from home to here and back again each day. I shall tell Mrs. Lewis to set you up in the servants’ quarters.’
‘If it pleases you, m’lord, I prefer to remain at home and to walk here daily.’
‘You can’t be serious?’
‘I certainly am!’
‘Duw Da!’ (Good God) Irked beyond belief, Geoffrey is nevertheless surprised he has uttered a saying that rarely leaves his lips. This chit of a girl is impossible. Yet, he has an indescribable urge to take her in his arms. Without another word he nudges his horse and goes on his way, but distance isn’t to dim the desire that is blossoming within him and his entire ride is dominated by the image of a beautiful girl with curly red hair.
Faith tuts as she stomps up the path towards the manor. Who does he think he is? Despite her brooding annoyance she finds herself thinking of the light in his eyes more than his words. ‘Tis not right that a man should be so pretty!
Moonlight still dances on the roof of the manor as Faith, turning a corner, at last comes into view of the impressive, ash-grey stone building. In the center of the building protrudes the grand entrance way and receding inwards is a big black hole which holds an impressive ornate wooden door. Above the door a balcony encases a window with baroque masonry. To both sides of the door are four sets of paned stone mullioned windows. Sitting tall and stately upon the roof are four huge chimneys. Softening the harshness of the brickwork are clusters of bushes lining both the path and the steps to the entrance.
Proper grand. Nerves suddenly swoop in making her feel sick as she skirts the building looking for the servants’ entrance.
With trepidation, she approaches what is clearly the kitchen door. Her steps are small as she clasps both arms around her body, trying to quell her nerves. Warm orange glows flood from the windows, and she can hear the banging of pots and pans as she lifts her hand and knocks gently on the blackened oak door.
Within seconds, the latch is lifted and the door abruptly opens. A young lady greets her with a broad infectious smile, causing Faith’s tension to ease a little.
‘Come ew on in now,’ a maid says, beckoning to her. Faith smiles her thanks and steps into the kitchen. Three young women all dressed identically in charcoal dresses with full length white pinnys and wearing frilly white hair caps, are lined up behind a huge wooden table, doing various tasks. All of them look up smiling their welcome, and Faith heaves a sigh of relief. Having convinced herself they would think her scum, not worthy to be at the manor, it is reassuring to find they hold no such opinions.
‘You must be Miss Miller.’
Faith turns around to face the woman who has just entered the kitchen from the hallway. ‘Yes...’ She falters, not knowing how to address the woman whom she assumes, by her attire, is the housekeeper.
‘You may call me Mrs. Lewis. Come with me.’ Mrs. Lewis turns and leaves the way she has come in. Faith hastily follows after her. They enter a smaller room just down the corridor, which turns out to be Mrs. Lewis’ room. Faith will later learn that you never enter without being invited. The woman sits straight-backed in a chair on the far side of the table, as Faith takes a moment to absorb as much as she can. The spindly housekeeper wears a black skirt with a white blouse buttoned to the top of her neck. Several rows of lace fall from the neckline, layering her shoulders. Her white hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she wears her half-moon spectacles on the tip of her straight nose.
The room is full of cupboards and her desk stacked high with papers and letters. She appears both eternally busy and supremely efficient, if such descriptions can be given with a simple glance. Faith feels they surely could.
‘Miss Driscoll informed me only yesterday that you were coming to us. There are rules within a household such as this. Most of them are never brought up, but they are there, lying under the surface of everything we do, making everything work like clockwork. There is a mutual respect between them and us, and a very clear definition of duties. I was quite shocked to be undermined by Miss Driscoll, and, I hasten to add, this is something she has never done before.’ Mrs. Lewis taps her fingers on the desk, a clear indication of her annoyance at the situation. ‘Efficient though I am, I had no idea of your size, so we will fit you out the best we can. The last maid wasn’t much bigger than you, but I think we shall be able to take the clothes in to fit you quite nicely.’
‘My mam is awfully good with the needle, Mrs. Lewis. I am sure she could do it for me so that I am no bother to you.’
Mrs. Lewis pushes her spectacles up her nose and peers at Faith, the finger tapping having ceased. She hadn’t been happy to be informed of new staff as she normally did all the interviewing and selecting of them herself. She had been ready to give the new maid a hard time until she was forced to leave. That way she could then select someone of her own choosing. After all, it is her job, and she is, and has always been, extremely accomplished in it.
‘You’re not Welsh then.’
‘No, Mrs. Lewis, we came to Abertillery four years ago. ‘Tis from Chester we come.’
‘I recollect Chester quite fondly. Beautiful walled city, but a bit too busy for me. I prefer the quiet of the Welsh hills and valleys to the rumble of industry. Still, my family hail from there so it is with warmth that I think of it.’
A coldness, as deep as caves, cascades down Faith’s back. Since they arrived four years ago, they have met no-one with ties to Chester. Her mouth goes dry, and she has a longing to sit down.
‘Do you still have family in Chester?’
The question, although innocently asked, sends Faith into a panic. What if this woman was to make inquiries about them?
‘No, Mrs. Lewis, my father died of influenza some years back. When my mam could no longer keep the bakery going, we had to seek new employment. We were told that South Wales was booming due to the opening of more collieries, so we headed south, and here we are.’ The well-rehearsed twist on the truth falls easily from her lips.
The housekeeper surveys Faith for a short time, obviously digesting what she has just revealed. She grows uncomfortable. Will Mrs. Lewis write to her relatives to ask them about a bakery which closed after the death of the baker? She isn’t sure what the housekeeper thinks, but as soon as she starts talking, Faith sighs in relief.
‘That must have been a great hardship? To lose both your father and your home and then set off to a strange place as well.’
‘Time is a good healer, they do say.’
‘They do indeed. I will tell you the truth. When Miss Driscoll informed me that you used to be a barmaid, I was expecting the worst of you. My encounter with such women has been to leave an impression upon me that they are the lowest of low; drunkards most of them. They certainly didn’t have your manners.’
Faith wants to defend the girls she worked with for they hadn’t been that bad. Yes, they did like a drink bought for them by men with overly friendly intentions and wandering hands, and they did cuss as much as the men. But they had good hearts, each one of them. Still, she needs this job too much to risk upsetting the woman in front of her, so remains silent.
Mrs. Lewis straightens, taking a deep breath. ‘I will show you to your room, which you will share with Olwen. You will have to tie your pinny around you tightly to disguise the size of the dress until your mother can alter it for you. Once you’ve changed, Esther will show you what to do. The girls take it in turns to rise early or stay late, and as this is your first day you may do a straight twelve-hour day. Tomorrow you can do the early with Olwen and follow her day. I take no nonsense from the staff so if you fraternize with the male staff you will be sacked. There are no second chances. If you are found stealing you will be handed over to the authorities immediately, and if you are slack in your duties you will be dismissed. Is that understood?’
Stealing? Has Lord Driscoll told her about the leeks? Faith feels sick, a lump appearing in her throat. She certainly doesn’t want to be known as a thief.
‘Yes, Mrs. Lewis. However, about the room, I won’t need one, thank you very much. I intend to go home at the end of each day.’
‘Pardon!’ The shock on Mrs. Lewis’s face is, for a moment, quite comical. ‘Of course you will need a room, girl. The position requires you to work a twelve to fourteen hour day. You can’t possibly put an hour’s brisk walk either side of that. You’ll be weary at the end of just a few days.’ The housekeeper pauses in her scolding and leaning forward, peers over the rim of her glasses to study Faith more closely. ‘Does your mother need looking after? Is that why you wish to go home?’
There is no way that Faith can reveal the truth about her desire to return home each day, nor can she lie and portray her mother in a bad light. ‘I have never been away from home on my own before.’
Mrs. Lewis sighs and sits back in her chair, relaxing. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty.’
‘Don’t you think that is a bit old to still be holding onto your mother’s apron strings? I was under the impression that your mother needs you to have this position so that she can remain in the house?’
Faith drops her head in shame that people should know of their circumstances, but the shame of why she really wants to go home is even greater. There is no telling the truth. Not to this woman, anyway. She mumbles her reply, shame and guilt like blackened stocks holding her fast, refusing to release her. ‘Yes, Mrs. Lewis.’
The housekeeper stands up. ‘Come along and let’s get you started.’
‘Mrs. Lewis?’
‘Yes?’
‘I will need to go home, at least just for this night as my mam will be expecting me and I wouldn’t wish her to worry. I will stay here after that.’
‘As you wish. Now come along, you have taken up far too much of my time as it is.’
The day has been long and tiring. Faith is a little overwhelmed with how much she will be expected to accomplish each day. She will do it of course, for she is hard-working to a fault. As six o’clock approaches she’s exhausted and realizes she’s not looking forward to the long walk home at all.
Although she has tried hard not to think of Geoffrey, she has to admit that she is disappointed their paths hadn’t crossed the entire day. Not that she could really expect them to, as she was in the kitchens for most of the time. She caught a quick glimpse of him before lunch when she spotted him having a discussion with Mrs. Lewis in the hallway. As if aware of her gaze he had suddenly looked over at her, so she scurried quickly back down the hallway.
Crossing the yard, she heads towards a path leading off the estate, a different one to the one she had taken that morning. She had been informed that this was the one the servants used. Glancing at the sky she shivers, pulling her shawl tightly around her. It isn’t raining but from the look of the sky a storm is heading their way and the wind is picking up. She will be lucky to get home before the deluge arrives.
‘Hey, Faith.’
Faith turns to see who is calling and spots Reuben standing near a cart, waving his cap at her. At lunch all the staff had shared a meal around the huge wooden table in the kitchen. There had been much chatter and a fair bit of laughter, most of which had been instigated by Reuben.
She lifts her arm in a half-wave. ‘I’m off home, Reuben. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
He runs across the cobbled yard. Stopping in front of her, he grins as he adjusts the cap on his head, pinning down his mop of golden curls.
‘It’s like this see. I’m heading into town m’self, on an errand for his nibs. Why not hitch yourself up beside me, Faith bach, and fetch a lift into town?’
Relief washes through her. ‘Will no one mind if I ride alongside you, Reuben?’
‘Not a tiny drop. I be staying at mamgu’s (grandmother) tonight, so I’ll fetch ew back in the morning as well, see.’
Faith bursts into a full-blown smile of joy. How wonderful has life been to them in the last two days!
Taking her hand, Reuben helps her step up onto the cart. He runs around the other side and climbs up. ‘Gee up, old girl.’ The huge brown Shire moves forward with a heavy clip-clop on the stone cobbles.
‘I tell ew the truth, look proper grand sat there ew do, Miss Miller,’ and with the compliment Reuben winks.
Faith’s head rolls back as she laughs with a gaiety she’s not felt in many a year.
Watching them from behind the window is Geoffrey, who is relieved that the stubborn girl has accepted a ride into town. He’s never met anyone before who both irritates and intrigues him the way she does. Somehow, the poverty-stricken, leek-stealing atheist has gotten under his skin and is dominating his thoughts.
Chapter 5
May has flown by and Faith is shocked at the speed of its disappearance, yet glad beyond measure for tomorrow is her first full day off. She is giddy with excitement about spending an entire day with Bertie and her mother. So far, she’s only gone home on her half days off and the time always passes too quickly. Tonight, though, she will actually sleep in her own bed. Dreaming of holding Bertie the entire time fills her with happiness.
Faith has risen before the rest of the staff this morning to do as many chores as possible before they rise. She’s lit the huge fire in the kitchen, stoked the ovens, scrubbed down the enormous wooden table and mopped the floors. Everything is spotless, ready for Cook to begin her day. If anything goes wrong today, and she can’t finish her half day at the strike of two she will be without consoling. Today is Bertie’s birthday, and she can’t wait to show him the stone-cakes that Cook has helped her make for him.
She hears movement in the hallway so fetches the huge kettle off the rung over the fire and fills the massive teapot on the table. They are allowed two cups of tea a day from the general stores’ cupboard, one in the morning and one with their evening meal. Knowing that Cook likes to start her day with a nice cup of tea, she has set everything ready.
‘I tell you the truth I do, Faith bach, I have no idea what I did before you came.’
Faith grins at her, knowing Cook has a soft spot for her and assuming it is her hard work and her eagerness to make everyone happy. Olwen is next in, rubbing her eyes as she shuffles towards the table.
‘Ack-uh-vee, Faith! ‘Tis wanting to put us to shame ew are with your early morning rises, if ew do it too much, Cook yer will be wanting us all up before the moon even begins its descent, ack-uh-vee!’ (exclamation of distaste)
‘Oh, now that has set me mind to thinking,’ smiles Cook. When she sees their alarmed faces, she’s set off into a good old chuckle.
Two hours later, the early morning tasks come to an end. There’s a bustle as the staff gather together in the kitchen for breakfast. Two flower-painted Staffordshire jugs filled with buttermilk take center stage on the table. A jar of bara lawr (laverbread or cooked seaweed) and a square of cheese sit in-between them with a huge loaf of freshly-baked bread placed at either end of the table. Fresh hot water has been poured into the pot so that a second, weaker, cup of tea can be had by those not wanting buttermilk. Or, in the case of the men, for those who usually want both.
There’s a short silence as they take bread and cheese and fill mugs.
Reuben hasn’t quite finished a mouthful of bread when he starts talking. ‘Not being funny like, but ‘tis sure I am that Olwen is marrying Duw (God) and becoming a nun!’
‘‘Tis not too bright ew are and rubbish ew talk, garden boy,’ scoffs Olwen.
‘Nooo, I tell you the truth see. I’ve seen ew sneaking into Driscoll chapel to pray at any moment ew get free. Sooo in love ew do look Olwen, does make me swoon with emotion!’
