The Orphans of Ardwick Page 11

  Mack grinned. ‘Gradely, sir, aye!’

  ‘Right, well. That’s settled.’ With a lift of his eyebrow, Albert finally turned back to his son.

  ‘So now you change your mind about employing more hands? Because she suggests it?’ Mr Philip thrust a finger towards Cook.

  ‘’Ere, less of the she. I’ve a name and will be happy if you’d remember it,’ the woman growled quietly, hands on hips.

  Yet again, Mr Philip ignored her. ‘Well, Father? That’s how matters stand, is it?’

  ‘You’re acting in a most puerile manner. I trust Mabel’s judgement implicitly. If it’s valets, ladies’ maids and the like you’ve been imagining, my boy, you’re sadly mistaken. I will not entertain such frivolity. We need to curtail our outgoings somehow.’ The master’s voice dropped to a hard murmur. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’

  Again, that narrowed gaze settled on his father. ‘And Hardman?’

  ‘As I said, whether she remains or decides to leave, the choice is hers.’

  ‘But … these urchins could be thieves, criminals! You’re really willing to take the gamble?’

  ‘And you know all about gambles, isn’t that so?’ Albert shot back. The air crackled with tension. He leaned back against the pillows. ‘Now, return to the festivities with your wife and child. I should like to rest.’

  Gazing upon the older man who had now closed his eyes, signalling the conversation had come to an end, Philip breathed slowly. He flicked furious eyes to Cook, who stared back calmly. Then he turned and left the room. When his footsteps had faded, she jerked her head and Pip, the lads close behind, followed her back downstairs.

  The hall was empty, the drawing room door fastened closed. Now, no laughter or merry voices travelled through – Mr Philip’s return had clearly soured the mood inside. Biting her lip, sorry for Miss Lucy, Pip hurried on.

  Cook uttered not a word until they were in the kitchen, where she strode straight to where Hardman sat at the table. Hauling the guilty-eyed maid to her feet, she shook her hard. ‘You nasty-minded piece, yer! Running to the master’s son the minute my back’s turned, is it? By, I’ve a mind to slat you from this house right here and now!’

  ‘But … but …’ She gazed at Pip and the lads in astonishment. ‘Mr Philip assured me …’

  ‘And the master put him straight. He’s decided these little ’uns can stay, as I knew he would, for he’s kind hearted, unlike some. So whatever his son assured you …’ Slowly, Cook’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Though why he’d go out of his way to defend you so …’ Her eyes widened. Then she laughed mirthlessly. ‘Why, you brainless young … I know what you’re about, missis. Oh, I know your game, all right.’

  Despite the crimson stain now covering the maid’s face, she lifted her chin. ‘Tha knows nowt!’

  ‘Is that so? Well, let me tell you, Hardman. You ain’t the first – by God you ain’t! – nor shall you be the last, I’ll be bound, what’s caught Mr Philip’s fancy over the years—’ She broke off suddenly to glance at Pip and her face hardened in a protective look.

  Pip stared back in puzzlement – which grew when she caught Simon staring at her with the same expression as Cook. Then he and the older woman shared a look and as though reassured by whatever silent message passed from him to her, the cook’s face relaxed a fraction. Still, Pip didn’t understand, but she hadn’t time to ponder as Hardman’s voice sliced through the silence:

  ‘So then?’ A worried note lurked behind the words, belying her defiant stance. ‘What’s to happen? Does the master want me gone from here?’

  ‘He’s for leaving the decision at your door.’

  A little of the anger left her face. ‘Well … I’ll have to think on it.’

  ‘Why, you ungrateful young …’ Cook shook her head. ‘You’d do well to think on summat else, an’ all, while you’re about it.’ Stretching to her full height, she stepped closer. ‘You … and him … It ends. Now. You hear me? Else it’ll be the worst for you, missis. That’s the truth.’

  After a moment, Hardman lowered her gaze. Then she resumed her seat without another word.

  The room and its occupants passed the next hour in near silence. An uncomfortable undertone held them in its grasp, yet despite this Pip couldn’t help her feelings of happiness. Seated quietly at the table, she and the lads shared regular secret smiles as the servants went about their duties. She just wished all beneath this roof could be pleased they were here to stay, but perhaps that would change in time? Surely once Mr Philip and the housemaid saw that they were trustworthy and hard-working to boot, they would realise the error of their snap judgement and things would settle down? At least she prayed it would be so, continually.

  At any rate, the master had given his consent. That, when all was said and done, was the most important thing. He made the rules around here. And they had Cook on their side; a formidable supporter who possessed perhaps more standing here than she should, but who would defend and protect them from bad tongues and vicious minds, Pip was certain. Nonetheless, it would be all the better for them were the rest of the household to accept them.

  Hardman was summoned to the drawing room, where she was informed Miss Lucy had been put to bed and that the adults’ guests were soon to arrive – the signal for Cook to begin preparing drinks and supper. It was to be a standing buffet, which the guests would help themselves from rather than be waited on by a servant. As the older woman dragged herself reluctantly from her chair, Pip rose and sidled across to her. ‘Cook? Can I help?’ she asked shyly.

  She thought for a moment then nodded. ‘Aye, all right. Anyroad, it’s better you learn now than later.’ She pointed across the room. ‘Go in the cupboard, there, and fetch me the large mixing dish with the pansies painted around the rim, good lass.’

  Smiling in delight – Pip felt a rush of pleasure to be assisting the overworked servant – she did as she was bid. She was just helping Cook measure flour into it when Tabby emerged from the scullery, where she’d been busy.

  ‘What’s this, then?’

  The cook glanced over her shoulder. ‘Young Pip, here, has begun her duties as the new member of our workforce.’

  ‘Eeh, I’m that happy,’ Pip told the other girl, puffing out her chest. ‘I’ll make the master proud, aye, will prove to him what a good kitchen maid I can be – with Cook’s help, here, of course.’ She smiled up at the woman but when she turned back to Tabby, it slipped from her face. The scullery maid was gazing back open-mouthed, eyes wide with incredulousness. ‘Tabby? What is it?’

  ‘I should be next in line as kitchen maid! Years, I’ve been here – how is it Pip’s given a position higher than my own the minute she walks through yon door?’ she added to Cook, folding her arms. ‘’Taint right, this. A soddin’ scullery maid I’m to remain till the end of time, is that it?’

  Cook had the grace to look shamefaced. ‘D’you know, I didn’t think, lass. It weren’t intentional on the master’s part – nay, nay, you can be sure of that. Eeh, now, what’s to be done?’ Gnawing at her lip, she looked from one girl to the other.

  ‘I’ll be scullery maid instead, Tabby, if you’d like?’ offered Pip without hesitation. She cared not a jot what position she held so long as she could remain here and was earning her keep. ‘As you said, you’ve been here longer than me. It’s only right and fair.’

  Now, Tabby wore the abashed expression. ‘Ah, Pip, you’re kindness itself. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, nor acted like a babby. It’s just … well, I’d always assumed … you know?’

  ‘I know.’ Pip crossed the space to give an affectionate squeeze to Tabby’s arm. ‘It’s only right you want to climb higher in the ranks; you’ve earned it. I’ve seen how hard you work. Please, you be kitchen maid. I’m sure the master won’t mither so long as the work’s done by someone.’

  ‘Shall I tell you summat, Pip?’ Tabby put her arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. ‘I reckon me and thee are going to get along just fine. Whatever Hardman o
r anyone else for that matter reckons about youse stopping on here matters not. You’ve a friend in me, aye, and allus shall.’

  Pip was overcome with emotion. She smiled tearfully from Tabby to Cook, who grinned back, eyes just as bright. And inside her breast, a stirring of belonging, of love, was born. And it felt like she’d come home.

  Chapter 8

  TABBY’S GRAND NEW position as kitchen maid lasted all of half an hour.

  She was used to assisting Cook in the odd chore when she was run ragged: chopping and peeling and helping to dish out or garnish the meals, that sort of thing. Creating the food itself, however, was another matter.

  How anyone could muck up meringues as many times as the girl had, Cook exclaimed, she didn’t know. First, Tabby had added yolks to a bowl instead of the whites – the latter she’d discarded, and so a fresh batch had to be prepared. Second time around, she got the eggs right, only to add a tablespoon of salt to the mixture instead of sugar. Once more, she’d tried again. So intent was she the third time on getting this attempt right, she’d taken her eye off the mock turtle soup warming on the fire, which boiled over, wasting a fair amount and almost ruining the pan in the process. Cook, not known for her patience at the best of times, was not amused.

  ‘You’re all thumbs, missis! God alive, clumsy ain’t in it! A dozen eggs, I ask you, to make simple meringues! Wasteful! Wasteful!’

  Simon and Mack had struggled to contain their laughter, just as Cook tried to suppress her building crossness. Pip, on the other hand, had watched on with a sorry feeling inside her for the girl. It was clear her enthusiasm at climbing the ladder was rapidly waning – not only was Tabby bad at her new position, she seemed to be thoroughly disliking the whole experience.

  After dropping a soufflé which, despite Cook’s earlier fears, had indeed risen beautifully – for all the good it did! – Tabby threw her hands in the air in defeat. Before Cook could, she pointed out the obvious: ‘I ain’t cut out for this malarkey. Pip, please, accept your place back. This here cooking business is foreign to me, and ruddy boring to boot. The scullery’s where I should have stayed, where I’d rather be, thank you very much!’

  Cook had looked relieved but Pip had felt it only right to at least attempt to change Tabby’s mind. ‘But you’ve hardly given yourself a chance. Happen you’ll start to like it once you’ve got better at it.’

  However, Tabby was adamant. ‘Nay, not me. Besides, it’s cleaning I’m good at – it’s the best I am, aye, I’d go as far as saying. Anyroad, I wish you luck, Pip, for you’ll be in need of it!’

  As it turned out, Pip wasn’t. To her own surprised pleasure, she took to it as though she’d been running her own kitchen for years. Cook was amazed.

  ‘Would you look at that, now! By, you’ve done grand, lass.’

  Gazing proudly at the fare on the table ready to be carried through to the dining room, Pip smiled. Lobster salad, beef and tongue sandwiches, meat rolls and dishes of fowls as well as jellies, blancmanges, tartlets and fresh fruits winked back from their silver beds. ‘I only helped prepare them, Cook. It’s you what did the real work.’

  ‘You cooked the lobsters, didn’t yer? And a treat they look, an’ all. See the lovely colour on them; you mastered the timing just right. You certain you’ve never toiled in a kitchen afore?’

  Pip nodded. ‘Well, I helped out Mam where I could. She … got sick sometimes, and the running of the home fell to me. Not that I minded, like,’ she hastened to add lest they thought bad of her mother. ‘And nothing like this today. A pauper’s feast were what we sat down to each night but we managed.’ We did, aye. And we were happy, the two of us. On good days, anyroad, she added to herself. A vision of Mam, healthy and happy, swam in her mind. Her throat thickened. Oh, but she missed her. And she hated her, too, at times. For she’d left her, alone, had seen no other way out of the hellish illness that plagued her. But still, more than any other emotion, Pip loved her. Nothing could outweigh that, not ever.

  The jollifications were well under way by the sound of it when Hardman re-entered the kitchen some time later, hands piled with empty platters. Before the door swung shut, refined speech and laughter floated through from along the hall beyond. Helping herself to another slice of cake at the table with Simon and Mack, Pip smiled.

  She’d detected Mr Philip’s voice amongst the rest, now raised in merriment rather than the anger of before in the master’s bedroom, and she was glad of it. However unwelcoming he’d been, the displeasure that had spewed from his eyes and mouth regarding them staying and the hurt and embarrassment he’d evoked in her, she wouldn’t have wanted the night ruined for him entirely. It was Christmas, after all, and didn’t everyone deserve happiness today? She just hoped Miss Lucy had enjoyed it as much.

  ‘Birdy looks to be flagging in the drawing room,’ announced Hardman to Cook, emerging from the scullery after depositing her load on to Tabby. ‘She has that pasty grey look about her.’

  Before rising from her seat, Cook said sternly, ‘I’ve told you afore now, Hardman, don’t use that term when referring to Miss Josephine. Remember your place and have some respect.’

  The housemaid shrugged. ‘I mean nowt by it; she just reminds me of one, is all. Aye, a frickened bird – all wide eyes and perched on the seat’s edge, as though she’ll take flight and flee any second.’

  ‘Aye, well.’ Glancing to the green baize door, Cook pulled at her bottom lip distractedly. ‘She can’t help it, can she, poor love? It’s her blood, that’s what. It’s bad. It’s not flowing as it should, and she’s suffering for it. Doctor Lawley reckons as much hisself.’

  Again, Hardman raised then dropped her shoulders lazily. ‘She could will herself well again, I reckon, if she wanted. If you ask me, it’s a matter of choice.’

  ‘Well, no one is asking you, are they, so just you still your tongue,’ the cook shot back. Then she craned her neck to call, ‘Tabby, love? Is Miss Josephine’s favourite cup and saucer washed up yet?’

  ‘Aye,’ came back the reply. ‘I’m just for returning the crockery to the dresser, only I’ve been busy, like …’

  Despite the obvious worry that Hardman’s earlier statement had evoked, Cook smiled wryly at this. ‘Bloody slacking more likely,’ she said quietly, adding loud enough for Tabby’s ears, ‘Well, fetch them through, will thee? The lass is for needing them shortly by the sounds of it. Out last night visiting that Sutton-Shaw one, then again today traipsing to church … and now the bother of entertaining the guests in there … That’s what’s done it, aye. She’s took on too much and it’s burnt her out. Set her back days, this will, you mark my words. It’s Mr Philip’s doing, that’s what.’

  ‘Mebbe it’s what she needs, to get out a bit more.’

  ‘You know as well as I, Tabitha Newby, it does her more harm than good.’

  Pip and Simon exchanged a puzzled look. Just what was wrong with the master’s daughter, at all? They had overheard several references, now, as to her well-being and none good. Bad blood? What did that mean? And Hardman had hinted that it was all in Miss Josephine’s mind, that she could, if she chose, make herself well on her own.

  Glancing to Cook, now pouring tea into the china vessel Tabby had fetched her, Pip’s curiosity got the better of her: ‘Please, Cook, what ails her? Miss Josephine, I mean.’

  ‘Aye.’ Simon folded his arms. ‘I reckon we’ve a right to know now we’re for dwelling here. Happen it’s catching – I’m not for getting sick if I can dodge it.’

  The woman looked at them in turn. Then she sighed and nodded. ‘All right. All right. You see, it’s like this—’ Whatever she’d been about to reveal was cut short as the door suddenly burst inwards and the ladies of the house stumbled into the kitchen, making them all gasp.

  The shorter of the two held the other by the arm and tried unsuccessfully to draw her back out. ‘Josephine, this is quite improper! Come along to your room and I shall summon Cook myself—’

  ‘No, no, I … can’t … Oh!
Mabel, thank … goodness!’

  Cook was at Josephine’s side in seconds. Murmuring softly, she took the pale and violently shaking woman’s elbow and guided her around. ‘Breathe, now, miss. Deep ones, like the doctor showed you, that’s it. Come along to your room and I’ll make you comfortable. Tabby,’ she added in a bark over her shoulder, ‘the tea.’ The scullery maid, like everyone else completely unperturbed by the event taking place – a sign they were well used to such things – did as she was bid. On a cloud of faint perfume and Miss Josephine’s gentle sobbing, the sound of which Pip recognised as that she’d heard during the night, they disappeared, leaving the other lady to regain her composure in the doorway.

  Caroline Goldthorpe – Miss Lucy’s mam, Pip realised, thoughts of Miss Josephine melting as she eyed this finely dressed lady. By, but she was dour looking, and stern mouthed to match. How she and her husband had created someone as wonderful as their daughter was astonishing. Brown hair in a plain chignon, long faced and sharp chinned, she peered around the room coldly.

  ‘So. You must be the strays that my husband has been telling me about.’ Her clipped voice seemed to ping off the walls. ‘Well?’ she added when Pip and the lads remained silent. ‘Do you not possess a tongue between you? Speak!’

  ‘Aye, Mrs Goldthorpe, that’s right.’ Simon spoke quietly, though defiant anger lurked behind his eyes. ‘We’ve the master’s say-so to be here. And we’ll do our best to see he don’t regret giving it – Cook, an’ all, to boot.’

  Jewels winking at Caroline’s throat threw off splinters of light as she cocked her head. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Please, Mrs Goldthorpe, we just want us all to get along.’ The words escaped Pip’s mouth before she could halt them. She gazed back fearfully. ‘I, I mean … Forgive me, I—!’

  ‘Like … friends, you mean?’

  Trying hard but failing to gauge the woman’s feelings on this from her stony face, Pip bobbed her head. ‘Aye, yes,’ she whispered.

  Hardman had been standing by the fire. At this, she turned and walked away with a soft snort.