Easterleigh Hall (30 page)

She felt it an order and sat, feeling uncomfortable. ‘Fly fishing,' he repeated, pouring in his milk. ‘I renewed my acquaintance with the sport while on manoeuvres.' How reassuring, she thought, to know our country's safety is in the hands of soldiers whose manoeuvres include fly fishing.

He loved it, he told her – the tranquillity, the skill, required, the silence except for the whir of the rod wheel and the birds. ‘One day I am going to France, I will take my horse and I will ride along the length of a particular river and I will fish where the spirit takes me.'

Well, no doubt he would, as he wouldn't be staying in the pit for ever, and would then have all the leisure in the world to do exactly as he wanted, whereas . . . He smiled, and his face lit up, his eyes crinkled. What a shame such lovely eyes and beautiful smile hid a heart of stone. She suggested a scone but he shook his head, and took a slice of chocolate cake.

‘Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,' he laughed, and again his face lit up, and for a moment she found herself smiling in return. He sat straight these days, his shoulders back, no longer bowed. They only became so when Bastard Brampton returned and was displeased, as had happened after it had been announced that the cavil would be reinstated. It was then Mr Auberon had sat carefully, and moved judiciously, and she longed to say, ‘Wallop him. In the chops. That would show him. And be a man, give us the cavil anyway. My brothers Jack and Timmie would in your position, and me da would never have taken it away from the miners in the first place.'

Would she stand up against the Bastard? Well, she'd never know, but this whelp had reneged on his promise, so he was as much of a bastard as his father and the memory of his bruises left her unmoved.

In mid December Evie and Mrs Moore decided to tackle the Nesselrode pudding recipe Lady Brampton had requested for the pre-Christmas dinner she had planned. As they worked they talked about Millie, who had ground almost to a halt and could only be termed a dawdler of the first order. Evie and Mrs Moore had tried to teach her with care and kindness, they tried to prod her with anger but nothing worked.

‘She's making a fool of herself with this Roger, that's the problem. She's got no thought of anything else,' Mrs Green said, popping her head around the door as they lined up the ingredients, and then left.

Evie looked at Mrs Moore, who shrugged, checking the utensils which Evie had laid out in Millie's absence. ‘Of course Mrs Green and I have discussed it. Where is the girl, anyway? She'll have to go. We can't carry her any longer. I don't like to dismiss someone but there's too much work and it's unfair on you lasses.'

Mrs Moore settled herself on her stool in front of the ranges and started to check off the ingredients that Evie had brought from the big pantry, pointing at them with a wooden spoon handle. Evie said, ‘I sent her to lie down now she's finished preparing the servants' lunch. She has a bad headache.'

Mrs Moore tutted. ‘You're too soft. Forty chestnuts, Evie?'

‘In the bowl. She didn't look well.' Evie stood at her side.

Mrs Moore said, ‘She'll be in trouble soon, anyway, and have to go with no character and more tears than she ever dreamed. He won't be dismissed, the man never goes. If we send her away now we could save her because I'll give her a character, of sorts, and there'll be distance between them. You mind my words, he won't be bothered with someone he has to make an effort over. He likes his plums daft enough to drop off the trees into his hands.'

Evie looked over Mrs Moore's shoulder at the recipe, and weighed the candied citron. ‘One ounce, does it say? I suppose you're right, looking at it like that.'

‘Yes, one ounce. You and Simon don't . . .?'

‘Two ounces of currants? Of course we don't.' Evie wanted to, of course and so did he, but they had plans and those came first, they told one another to damp the longing.

Annie was clattering in the scullery. Evie said quietly, ‘Someone could leak Simon and me to Mrs Green and Mr Harvey, then we'd have to go, too,' she said, weighing up two ounces of stoned raisins.

‘You're discreet,' Mrs Moore snapped, ‘unlike that young lady. And no one wants either of you to leave.' Roger opened the kitchen door and passed through on his way to the bell corridor, smiling the same old smile that made both women long to slap him.

‘That looks tasty, ladies, a little something to keep a good man going.'

Neither woman even looked at him, and where was the good man he was talking about? Not here, that's for sure. They blanched the chestnuts in boiling water, removed the husks, and pounded them in a mortar until they were smooth. ‘Enough, do you think?' Evie asked Mrs Moore. She nodded.

Evie rubbed the pounded chestnuts through a fine sieve and mixed them in a basin with a pint of syrup, a pint of cream and the yolks of twelve eggs, which Annie had to collect in Millie's absence. ‘Put it over the low hotplate now, lass, and don't stop stirring,' Mrs Moore instructed.

Evie did so, stirring, until she thought her arm would drop off.

‘Now don't let it boil,' Mrs Moore warned.

They put the mixture to set in the icebox and tomorrow they'd move it into the freezing-pot. They put maraschino cherries, currants and raisins to soak, and Evie pounded sugar with vanilla. ‘Such a shame really about Millie,' she said. ‘She could have learned much more than she has. I've tried, I really have.'

Mrs Moore grunted, ‘You have, lass. She was set on her course, it seems to me. It's nothing to do with you, or me, or anyone else.'

Evie's guilt was almost gone. But it was only ‘almost' for hadn't Roger targeted the girl originally because of her?

That afternoon Mr Auberon and Lady Veronica came for tea, but explained that they would be unable to inconvenience Evie again until after Christmas, and apologised, yet again, for being in the way.

Over tea, with the suckling pig hissing on the spit, they slipped into French and Mr Auberon explained to Veronica that he was going to be extraordinarily busy for the next few months, and so were Hawden and Auld Maud pits because they needed to provide more energy for the steelworks. ‘Father's signed a big steel contract, and it might be due to me, in part. The middleman's a military admirer and he classes the Territorials in that, and my involvement might have helped firm the contract. Father will have to keep to his word now and not oppose the return of the cavil. So that's a new year present for the pits, and at last I can get some sleep. It's been preying on my mind so.'

Lady Veronica looked up. ‘That's wonderful, but it's so late and it appears as though
you
reneged. He's such a devil.'

Mr Auberon shook his head and drank his tea but Lady Veronica merely played with hers, her frown deep. Evie saw Mr Auberon push his cup and saucer away and drag his hand through his hair so savagely that she longed to slap his hand and tell him to break the habit, or he'd tear it out by the roots. ‘He's like a damned spider, spinning a web. I think he's going to be trying for a contract with Germany next. I saw a letter on his desk with a Berlin address.' There was disgust in his voice.

‘But is that patriotic, with the naval race in progress? What is the matter with you, Aub, why didn't you speak out?'

‘The matter is the bloody cavil, isn't it? I can't oppose him or he'll close the pit. That's what he said. “Keep your place or watch your men take to the road.” The fact that he needs the coal wouldn't matter. He'd buy up another pit.'

Evie was listening hard as she drew up menus for tomorrow, and didn't know how she felt except that her hatred for the Bastard knew no bounds. So, the cavil would be reinstated in the new year. So, she worked for a monster who had a son who could not fight his father. But who the hell could? Behind her the smell of young pork was sweet. There would be cold meat and pickle for the servants' supper tomorrow.

Evie continued flicking through her bible, not reading the words. Last week Mrs Moore had iced the Christmas cake. She was in a good phase at the moment, and not drinking. The Christmas puddings were already made and so too were a million mince pies. She began mentally to tick off the other treats – such as sugared almonds which they would try to make tomorrow – because it was easier than thinking of the life this young man was forced to live.

Today Mrs Green and the housemaids and footmen had been decorating the Christmas tree which Simon, Thomas, Alf and Bernie had set up in the great hall this morning, before coming down for tea and scones. They were covered in pine needles and gathered around the range, laughing and talking about the gifts Father Christmas would not be bringing them.

Tomorrow the house servants would complete the tree and then prepare the rooms for the intended guests, to include Lord and Lady Williams and Captain Richard Williams, of course. The captain's younger brother was away with his regiment, his sister was married and in her own home with her own set of in-laws to bother about, according to Mr Harvey. Evie looked for further recipes, though today they would prepare a plain dinner for upstairs of soles à la crème removed by roast suckling pig and pheasant, removed by vol-au-vent of pears and compote of Normandy pippins.

Lady Veronica was rising and Mr Auberon leapt to his feet, pulling out her chair. ‘It's good to have her back, isn't it, Evie?'

Evie stood as she should, knowing no one would pull out her stool. She smiled. ‘We're all pleased, Lady Veronica, for it's not quite right without you.'

To her surprise she realised she meant it. Lady Veronica flushed and moved to the door, which Mr Auberon held open for her. ‘Thank you, I agree, it isn't right anywhere else.' She switched to French. ‘Auberon, it is no better, there is still no love.' They left and Evie watched them walk along the passageway. Poor rich bairns, she thought, grateful for her life and half able to hope that the bad placements were over for her family. But she had been here before and dared not trust.

Millie returned to the kitchen from yet another rest on her bed, or had she slipped out? Who knew? Whatever the cause, her nose was bright red with cold. Or was it more tears? Evie's heart lifted. Had Roger seen her off? Millie stood by the end range and pulled her shawl tightly around her, as though she was defending herself against the world. Well, she would be soon if she didn't get the wake-up tea for the upper servants. Immediately it was all rush and eventually Mrs Moore arrived, restored by rest and tea. ‘I have to say you make a nice pot of tea, young Millie,' she said, settling herself on the stool. ‘Now fetch the puff pastry from the ice room, pet.' Clearly she had not told the girl of the plans for her dismissal.

Millie did so, and Mrs Moore winced as she rolled out puff pastry on the marble slab. Evie and she had worked out which tasks she could perform without too much effort. ‘Did Lady Veronica seem well?' Mrs Moore asked, leaning down on the rolling pin. ‘I expect she's ready for a rest after her gallivanting.'

Millie said, as she rolled out the pastry for the servants' game pie which was a particular favourite of Mr Harvey's, ‘Lucky for that lot. What about us, we're rushed off our feet.'

‘Well, some of us are,' shouted Annie from the scullery before coming into the kitchen with her sleeves rolled up and her hands like raw steak. ‘Where were you, Millie? You left before luncheon's tidying up was finished and Sarah and I had to do it. It's not fair. Mrs Moore, you need to do something.'

Millie didn't look up as she whimpered, ‘I was getting the vegetables from the store.' Annie came closer, arms akimbo. ‘You know Simon had already brought them in, so don't lie. Why did you nip out? But why am I asking that? We all know why. Where he goes, you go.'

Evie felt a headache begin. Mrs Moore was pressing down on the pastry cutters. ‘Enough now, Annie. It's not your place to ask where your betters have been.'

Annie strutted back to the scullery. ‘Betters, that's a good one. She's no better than she ought to be, and if you're making buns, Mrs Moore, you should ask what she's got in her own oven.'

There was a total silence in the kitchen. Mrs Moore stopped in mid cut, Millie in mid roll, Evie in mid baste. The only sounds were of the scullery maids banging and crashing the kitchen pans, plates, sieves and whatever else had just been used for dinner preparations.

Millie began to weep on to her pastry. Mrs Moore stared at Evie, then nodded. She didn't look at Millie, but her anger was only too plain as she shouted, ‘Now is not the time for snivelling, Millie. Stop dripping on to the pastry, make the pie, do just as you would normally do, then you and Evie will have a little talk.'

Millie was still crying. She dropped the rolling pin, and dragged her arm across her eyes. Her nose was running. Please, not on to the pastry, Evie urged silently. She thrust her own handkerchief at the girl. ‘Wipe your nose, go and wash your hands, and let's finish and then we'll sort everything out.' She sounded so confident, though she knew there was nothing to be done if Annie had been correct.

Somehow they staggered through food preparations and no one asked the question that was in all their minds. Over dinner in the servants' hall Evie made it her business to sit next to Millie, gripping her thigh when it seemed as though she would dissolve yet again, ignoring Roger's look of triumph which she understood too well. Yes, Millie was a bloody fool who had thrown herself at him when he lifted his little finger, but he had lifted it in the first place because of Evie. Damn them both. Poor stupid lass. She stared at him, hoping her contempt was withering. He just nodded, satisfied.

Once dinner was served she dragged Millie up to their room, sitting on the girl's bed, pulling her down beside her and holding her, rocking her, their feet on the proggy mat she had sneaked in to make the floor kinder on their feet. It was the one she and her mother had been working on in the spring. There were paper chains around the room too, and holly with bright red berries in a vase. How absurd they seemed now. If Mrs Green did one of her bedroom rounds it would be a relief to remove them.