The Downstairs Maid (8 page)

Granny was rich, which was why he’d accepted her offer, albeit grudgingly. He was hoping she would leave her money to one of them when she died, but Lizzie didn’t want to think about that. She was very fond of Lady Prior and she wanted her to live for years and years. Granny made more fuss of Lizzie than she did of the others, though she also had a soft spot for Nicolas – but, then, everyone loved him.

A smile touched Lizzie’s lips as she thought of her brother. He was home from school for Christmas. Then he had another term at Eton, after which he would come home until the following autumn when he would go up to Oxford. The thought of his being home for Christmas made her smile. She was fond of all her family, but Nicolas was special.

‘Daydreaming again,’ Nicolas’s voice hailed her from the doorway and she jumped, covering one of the parcels quickly so that he shouldn’t see his name.

‘I was just thinking about something,’ she said, as he entered the room and sat down at the table, stretching out his long legs. He was wearing riding breeches and they suited him. ‘Have you been out on Rufus?’

‘He was a bit restive so I gave him a good gallop.’ He eyed Lizzie thoughtfully. ‘Something is on your mind – out with it, princess.’

‘I was thinking of that girl at the dance, the one you showed how to do the two-step.’

‘She didn’t need much showing. She had a natural flow that made it easy to dance with her.’

‘Did you notice her boots? It must have been hard to dance in those things.’

‘I didn’t notice.’ He frowned. ‘I know Amy was rude about her a couple of times.’

‘That’s why you asked her to dance instead of Amy.’ Lizzie had known it all along but his look confirmed it. ‘I was thinking … she ought to have some pretty shoes … but I’m not sure what to do. Do you think she might be offended if I bought her a pair? Would she refuse to accept them, think I was being condescending or something?’

‘She might … unless …’ Nicolas smiled and rose to his feet. ‘Leave this to me, Lizzie. I’ll see to it in a way she can’t refuse.’ He turned to look at her from the doorway. ‘I’m shopping in Ely; anything special you would like for your gift?’

‘I never mind what you buy me – but I know Amy wants the silver bangle in the jeweller’s. It was right in the centre of the window when we were doing our shopping yesterday.’

‘Thank you,’ Nicolas said. ‘The bangle for Amy and a surprise for you.’ He blew her a kiss.

‘Don’t forget Emily Carter’s dancing shoes.’

Nicolas nodded and went out, leaving Lizzie to the contemplation of her parcels once more.

Her problem over the gift for Emily Carter was solved. Now she could forget about her and look forward to Christmas.

It was Christmas Eve. The tree in the drawing room was so tall it almost touched the ceiling. Lizzie and Amy had helped decorate it, though Granny had directed them to put the delicate glass balls in a certain way, and she’d given them a silver star to place right at the top.

‘It should be a fairy,’ Amy had objected. ‘We always had a fairy at home.’

‘I think a star more appropriate,’ Lady Prior replied firmly. ‘Christmas is a religious occasion, Amy. We may choose to celebrate it with a special dinner, presents and a tree – but it is still Christ’s birthday and the star guided the shepherds to the stable where he lay.’

‘It’s lovely, Granny,’ Lizzie said, because she could see the storm brewing in Amy’s eyes. ‘I think it’s nicer than a fairy – and we shouldn’t forget the true meaning of Christmas.’

Amy glowered at her, but Lizzie ignored her sister. It was Christmas and she didn’t want to quarrel, especially as they had guests for dinner on Christmas Eve. Lizzie didn’t know all the people her grandmother had invited. She supposed that most of them would be old like Granny herself, but perhaps one or two would be younger.

Now the evening had arrived and Lizzie wasn’t disappointed. Most of the guests were older, but a couple of young girls had been invited – and Sir Arthur Jones. Lizzie had seen him in Ely once or twice, though he’d never spoken to them. She knew that he was very rich and had only recently come to live nearby. He’d bought a big house, not a new one but a grand house built in the Georgian era, and only a matter of half an hour’s ride on horseback from Priorsfield Manor. Granny had invited him to be their guest and Lizzie liked him at once.

She supposed he must be in his late twenties or thirty at the most. He had dark hair, grey eyes and a sensitive mouth, and his face looked a little craggy. Granny had told her that he’d been to South America returning only a few months before deciding to settle here. It was said that he’d discovered a valuable emerald mine and the shares were due to be sold at the Stock Exchange soon. Lizzie thought that sounded very exciting and she would have liked to ask him about it, but Amy was talking to him and he didn’t seem to have noticed Lizzie at all.

She wasn’t really surprised. Lizzie was not quite seventeen and Amy was nineteen. Lizzie was pretty but Amy was beautiful. More than that, she was regal. When she entered the room everyone stopped talking and turned to look at her. Lizzie knew that she had several admirers, but they were all farmers and Amy wanted more than they could give her.

If Papa hadn’t lost his money, Amy would have had her season in London the previous year. She’d been taken to local dinners and parties, but as yet the talk of Granny paying for her to have a season had come to nothing.

Noticing the way Amy was laughing up at Sir Arthur, Lizzie supposed that her sister must like him a lot. She couldn’t blame her. Lizzie thought he looked nice and she liked the warmth of his laugh. She wished he would notice her, but he had eyes only for Amy.

Lizzie didn’t normally envy her sister, but this time she couldn’t help wishing that Amy had gone to stay with friends for Christmas, as she’d talked of doing a few weeks earlier. Perhaps then Sir Arthur would have noticed Lizzie.

‘What are you looking so glum about?’ Nicolas sat down next to her, and then followed the direction of her gaze. ‘He’s much too old for you, princess. You’ll find a prince of your own one day, and he’ll be the luckiest man alive.’

Lizzie giggled, because Nicolas always made her feel better. ‘Let’s hope Amy is away then or married, because when she’s around no one notices me.’

‘If they don’t they are idiots,’ Nicolas said and reached into his pocket, bringing out a small parcel. ‘I put something under the tree for you, but I thought you deserved something special.’

Lizzie accepted the small flat parcel and opened it. She looked at the beautiful gold compact inside and gave a squeal of pleasure. ‘It is so lovely, Nicolas. You always spoil me.’

‘You deserve it,’ he said and smiled. ‘By the way, I chose some white satin dancing slippers and had them sent straight from the shop. I got a size five as you suggested. They have a strap with a button and shaped heels. Miss Carter can change them if she wants but the shop owner won’t tell her where they came from, because I told him he mustn’t – made him swear it on pain of death.’

‘Nicolas, you didn’t,’ Lizzie said and her laughter pealed out. Sir Arthur turned his head and glanced at her. For a moment he looked interested, a smile on his lips, then Amy spoke and he turned back to her. Lizzie gave a faint sigh. He was clearly besotted. She would be foolish to even think of him, because while Amy wanted his attention she would have it. ‘I hope Emily likes them.’

‘She’s bound to, isn’t she? I don’t suppose she’s ever had anything like that – and she isn’t likely to again. Only my precious Lizzie would think of such a thing.’

‘No, I suppose she won’t.’ Lizzie was thoughtful. She had so much to be thankful for. They might have to live with Granny, who wasn’t always kind to Mama and made it clear she expected them to live by her rules, but she wasn’t poor like Emily Carter.

Lizzie didn’t know what it would be like to live on a farm and she didn’t want to. Granny’s housekeeper had appeared, calling them all in for dinner. The parcels under the tree would be opened later, just before the family went to bed. Lizzie knew she would have several gifts, though nothing would please her as much as the gold compact Nicolas had given her. He offered her his arm, taking her into the dining room.

Sir Arthur was escorting Amy, of course. Granny had placed them side by side. Lizzie supposed Sir Arthur was the latest attempt on their grandmother’s part to find Amy a husband without going to the expense of a London season. If Amy liked him, she might get her way, though Lizzie couldn’t help hoping she wouldn’t.

It was ridiculous of her to hope, because what man in his right mind would want Lizzie when he could have Amy?

Christmas morning dawned fine and bright. Emily yawned, got out of bed and threw back the curtains. Early yet, the wintry sun glistened on white crystals of ice that had formed on bushes, withered flowers in wooden tubs, and the roofs of the cow byre and the milking parlour. She saw her father heading towards the cowsheds and knew what had woken her. Even at Christmas Pa had the same chores as on every other day.

Dressing hurriedly, and trying not to wake her little brother, she went softly downstairs, pulled on her old coat and shoes and followed her father to the milking parlour. Ma would need help with the dinner later but if Jack slept on, she wouldn’t be up for another hour and Emily was concerned about her father. The cough he’d developed in the summer had worsened as the weather got colder and she could hear him as she opened the door and went in.

‘What are you doing up, Em?’ he asked, turning to look at her. ‘It’s Christmas morning. You should be making tea and toast and opening your presents.’

‘I’ll open them later, when we’ve done the milking,’ she said, her heart warmed and filled with love. ‘It won’t hurt me to give you a hand. Ma won’t start on the dinner for another hour.’

Pa nodded and handed her a pail. She picked up a stool, sat down at Bess’s side and pressed her face into the cow’s warm belly as she began to stroke her teats with practised fingers, washing her udder before starting the milking process. The milk squirted into the pail, coming easily as the placid Bess munched in contentment. Moving on from Bess, Emily tipped the milk into the churn and turned to the next cow in line. Neither she nor Pa felt a need to speak, their silence companionable and in tune with each other. It was the morning of Christ’s birth and for this little moment in time all was well with their world.

Leaving Pa and Bert, who had turned up at the last moment, to put the churns on the wagon, Emily went up to the house. She washed her hands at the deep stone sink and then filled the kettle. Fire glowed red between the iron bars at the front of the range. She poked at it and then shut the door so the heat intensified. Fetching a heavy pan down from the shelf above the range, she put dripping into it and began to fry bacon, eggs and leftover potatoes, crisping them at the edges. Plates had warmed in the oven beside the fire and Emily was just loading the food onto them when her father walked in. He washed his hands, looking round at her.

‘Stella not down yet?’

‘Not yet. Let’s have our breakfast together and then I can make Ma’s toast or whatever she wants when she comes.’

Pa sat down, looking at the loaded plate she set before him. Emily brewed tea in the large barge teapot. It was colourful and her favourite, though normally more for display than use, but this was Christmas and special.

‘Making a fuss of your old man?’ Pa teased. ‘Expecting a nice surprise, Em?’

‘I don’t mind what I’ve got,’ she said truthfully. ‘But I got something for you.’ She placed a parcel wrapped in pretty blue paper by his plate.

‘What’s this then?’

‘Something you need.’ Emily watched as he opened the parcel and saw the little paperback copy of a book with all the English silver hallmarks. The smile on his face was her reward for not buying herself the eau de Cologne she’d wanted in Woolworth.

‘Just what I’ve always wanted,’ he said. ‘Look in my haversack in the corner, Em. There’s something for you and a small parcel for Stella. Fetch them out, love.’

Emily fetched out the parcels she found in the haversack. Ma’s was wrapped in brown paper and felt like a box of perfume, but Emily’s was smaller and she guessed it was something special from the look on Pa’s face. She tore off the wrappings and discovered a small silver compact with enamelling on the lid. As far as she could see it was perfect and she looked at him in surprise.

‘It’s beautiful, Pa – but it’s perfect?’

‘Just like my Em,’ he said and smiled. ‘Look under the cushion now. There’s a couple more gifts came for you. Harry Standen gave me one when he called to have a word the other morning, but I don’t know who sent the other. It came through the post and was addressed to you. I put it away until today.’

Emily was still admiring her compact. The enamelled picture was of a beautiful girl and delicately painted. Pa could surely have sold it for good money, but he’d given it to her and she would treasure it all her life.

She placed it on the table beside her plate and then went to the cushion. One parcel was quite small and wrapped in pretty Christmas paper; the other was strongly wrapped in brown paper with her name boldly inscribed in black ink and with a row of postage stamps. Emily opened the smaller parcel first and discovered a tiny bottle of Yardley perfume. She squeaked with delight and opened the stopper, smelling the scent of roses. She held it up to show her father and then read the note, which just wished her Happy Christmas from Harry.

Fancy Harry Standen sending her a Christmas gift. She hadn’t expected anything from him. Christoper had given her a small box of chocolates when she saw him in Ely, and she’d given him a card and a man’s handkerchief that she’d made and embroidered in the corner.

Emily ate her breakfast, because she didn’t want to waste it, but kept eyeing the bigger parcel as she tried to work out who it was from. Only when her plate was clear did she pick it up and break the seals. Inside, she discovered a box. It was a shoebox from the expensive shop in Ely High Street. Her heart beat like a frantic bird trying to escape from a cage. Lifting the lid, she saw a pair of white satin dancing shoes and almost dropped the box.