Eve

  We drew up on the Chelsea Embankment. Mr Wilkins opened a narrow gate at the side of the house, ushered me through into the alleyway behind, half-pushed me up some steps, opened a side door, escorted me past the peacocks and into the big, light room at the back. Lord Rothbury swung round from his desk and stood up. ‘Park her in a chair by the fire, Wilkins.’ As he walked towards me he enquired, ‘Room gone? Savings pinched? Or both?’

  I muttered, ‘Both,’ and collapsed into the armchair. Gazing up at him I asked, ‘But however did ye know?’

  With a glance across at his valet as he nodded his dismissal he told me, ‘Wilkins and I have had rather more experience of the wicked ways of the world than you – that’s why I told him to wait, and bring you back here if there were any problems. And now you are here, I’m going to do exactly what I would if you were a girl from my own estate in the same predicament. I’m sending you straight back to Scotland, to your aunt.’

  I said, ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘What?’ He frowned – as if it were my fault.

  I explained, ‘She was ma great-aunt, and she was verra old, an’ she died. An’ I’m no going back tae Scotland – I’m staying in London.’

  He stood there, towering over me. ‘You have no room, no money, and no job – yet you propose to remain in London?’

  Put like that, it didn’t sound very promising. But the alternative of incarceration in a boarding school was definitely worse. ‘I’ll manage somehow.’ Then inspiration came. ‘I’ll find a job in a hotel, as a chambermaid – then I can live in.’

  The furrows of his frown deepened. ‘And how long will it be before you get yourself into more trouble?’

  ‘I dinna ken what ye’re gettin’ at – I couldna help catching the pneumonia.’

  He snorted. ‘Couldn’t you? Erom Mr Parton’s account of how you were burning the candle at every possible end – out late every night after a strenuous day’s work, walking miles in all weathers, not eating properly – it’s surprising you didn’t go down with something sooner.’

  I sat up straight and told him, ‘I’m verra strong.’

  ‘Huh – you certainly look it now! Why, your face is nothing but freckles!’

  That got to me. ‘But – ye said – ye said ye didna mind freckles.’ I could hear the catch in my voice as I spoke.

  His own voice softened. ‘I believe that what I actually said, was that I liked freckles. But I do prefer to see some pink skin in between them.’ I hit my lip hard, to quell the threatening tears. He dropped on his haunches in front of me. ‘Here, use this.’ A large white handkerchief was tucked into my hand.

  But I’d got on top of myself again now. Pushing the handkerchief back to him I shook my head. ‘I dinna cry.’

  ‘Nonsense – all females do.’

  ‘I don’t. It doesna do any good. So I don’t.’

  In silence his eyes watched my face, then he said, ‘You may be pig-headed and foolish, Eve Gunn – but you’ve got pluck, I’ll grant you that.’ He sprang to his feet. ‘Just stay there – I’ve got to make a telephone call.’ I stayed, in the absence of anywhere else to go – or legs unwobbly enough to take me there if I had.

  When he came back he announced, ‘I’m off to Ireland tomorrow,’ I felt a moment of total despair – then I realised how he’d finished his sentence. ‘So I’m sending you down to Overby, my place in Wiltshire. You can convalesce there.’

  I whispered, ‘Thank you,’ then corrected hastily, ‘Thank ye – thank ye so much.’ My whole body was trembling with relief.

  He looked down at me. ‘You are a rather limp little pussycat at the moment, aren’t you? Never mind, three weeks of good food and fresh country air should put you to rights.’ He smiled.

  I asked, ‘When are ye coming back – frae Ireland?’

  ‘In three weeks’ time.’

  I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my face nor my voice as I asked, ‘So I have tae leave then?’

  He didn’t reply at first; his face had a considering look – then he said, slowly, ‘Perhaps not – immediately. Not if you don’t want to.’ Then, brisk again, ‘Your train’s not due for a while yet – one of my housemaids will look after you in the meantime.’ He pressed the bell, went over to his desk, picked up a pen and began writing.

  When the maid came he ordered, ‘Take her downstairs, Jane, and see she’s fed and watered.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘And tell Robert to bring up my tea now.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ He returned to his letter. I was dismissed.

  Jane escorted me through the green baize door, down the backstairs, and along the passage to the maids’ sitting room.

  The other maids had already started their tea. They poured me a cup, pulled up another chair and resumed their conversation – on the spring-cleaning of Rothbury house, which was about to commence. Jane explained to me, ‘We allus gets it done while his lordship’s away visiting his grandma. Her ladyship lives in Ireland, see.’

  What I actually saw was that he hadn’t bothered to tell me why he was going to Ireland – but then, why should he? I looked round at the plain cream walls and the serviceable furniture – as far as he was concerned I was back where I belonged. Below stairs, in my proper place.

  After tea I was handed over to Mr Wilkins, who led me out of the servants’ door and up the basement steps while informing me that the cab was round the corner, and my trunk and kari already loaded. As we reached the waiting cab I said to Mr Wilkins, ‘Could ye tell his lordship, “thank ye”.’ Mr Wilkins gave one of his laconic nods towards the front door – which was opening. Horseface emerged in his overcoat, hat and gloves, with his silver-topped cane tucked under one arm. He called, ‘You can get in now. We haven’t a lot of time – I’ve a call to make on the way to the station.’

  Mr Wilkins closed the door on us and the cab set off. Lord Rothbury leant forward and checked that the glass between ourselves and the driver was properly closed, then sat back again and said to me, ‘Now, I want your promise not to mention a word of what I’m about to say to anyone down at Overby, since it is not my usual practice to foul my own nest.’

  Bewildered, I said, ‘I promise.’

  Without even glancing in my direction, and Speaking in the most offhand of tones he announced, ‘It has occurred to me, young woman, that since you’re the sort of girl who will inevitably get into mischief with someone, it might be as well if you indulged in your mischief-making propensities with me.’

  I was even more bewildered by now. ‘What d’ye mean?’

  He turned to look directly at me, his face unsmiling. ‘I think you know very well what I mean, Eve Gunn – since it was you who first made the proposition.’ Finally, I understood. He waited for my reply. When it wasn’t immediately forthcoming he demanded abruptly, ‘How about it, then?’

  I said, ‘I dinna ken—’

  Addressing the back of the unwitting driver’s head he said, ‘I had assumed from the tenor of your letter that your previous objections no longer applied?’

  ‘Nae – I mean aye – aye, they dinna, only—’ Only when I’d offered before I’d assumed that a mistress would be more than just a servant – and certainly not that she’d be fouling his nest. ‘Do I have tae decide now?’

  There was a pause before he replied, grudgingly, ‘I suppose you’re hardly in a fit state to make such a decision at present. But I would like a definite answer on my return. It was, after all, originally your idea.’ True, it had been – but he’d seemed so different then. I glanced at his profile as he stared impassively ahead. He was like a stranger, now. He continued, ‘But remember, either way I want first refusal.’ His voice sharpened, ‘No hopping into bed with any of my grooms or gardeners while I’m away.’

  That finally stung me into defence. ‘I wudna dae that!’

  He replied grimly, ‘There was that young footman at Wenlock Court.’

  I was really angry now. ‘That was quite different!’

&
nbsp; Reluctantly he admitted, ‘Yes, in all fairness I suppose it was. I hadn’t made an agreement with you, then.’

  I snapped back, ‘I havena made an agreement with ye now. An’ if ye dinna trust me, there’s nae point.’

  A long silence followed that. Then, ‘Yes, you’re right. I think perhaps I owe you an apology.’ He didn’t give me one, though.

  I felt cold – I was trying not to shiver. Reaching into my pocket I fished out my gloves and began pulling them on – then saw him frowning at my hands, so I hastily curled my fingers round so the holes in my gloves wouldn’t show any more.

  The cab stopped. Not at the station but outside Barkers’, in Kensington.

  He said, ‘I have a commission to execute for my grandmother. I’ll be a few minutes – stay here.’

  Where else could I go? It was not a very pleasant few minutes. Pretty bad, actually. Now my brief spurt of anger had burnt out I felt worse than ever – giddy and cold and sick. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes.

  Yes, a bad ten minutes before I heard the door open and the springs creak as they took his weight. I kept my eyes closed as the cab set off again. Then I felt the seat sag as he turned towards me – and murmured, ‘Tired?’

  Looking up at him I whispered, ‘Aye.’

  His eyes intent on my face he commented softly, ‘Still not crying, though.’

  ‘I dinna cry – not since Apa died.’

  He asked gently, ‘Apa was your father?’

  And now he sounded so different that I told him, ‘Aye – an’ I couldna stop crying, then, but—’ And I was almost crying now. Reaching out he took my hand and held it firmly between both of his all the way to the station.

  He helped me out of the cab. ‘Now just hang on to me. I’ll find you a seat while I see to the tickets and luggage.’ Though my sick giddiness had passed now I still clung to his arm until we reached the waiting room. ‘Just stay there in the warm – I’ll soon be back.’

  While I sat waiting for him a short, handy-legged man who went scurrying past the window jogged my memory. As soon as Lord Rothbury had come striding back I said, ‘If ye see Mr Parton, could ye tell him I’ll dae his notes as soon as I can.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any hurry.’

  ‘But ye sent Mr Wilkins tae the laundry for them—’

  ‘I sent Wilkins to enquire because Mr Parton and I were both concerned about your well-being – rightly so as it turned out.’ Concerned – someone had been concerned – about me? My grip on his arm tightened, and he drew me closer. ‘Still not very steady on your pins, are you?’

  Porter in attendance, we passed through the ticket barrier and headed for the guard’s van. Snapping to attention the guard touched his cap and enquired, ‘Shall I stop the train for you at Edgeworth, my lord?’

  Horseface shook his head. ‘I’m not travelling myself today. But this young woman is, and she’s only just out of hospital, so would you ensure that at Swindon she and her luggage are safely transferred to the slow?’

  ‘Certainly, my lord.’ A coin changed hands. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  We moved on. Curious, I asked, ‘Dae they stop the express specially for ye, then?’

  He grinned. ‘I’m glad to say they do. My grandfather wisely made that a condition of allowing the railway to cross our land – all first class passengers travelling to Overby must be set down on request. Ah, here’s an empty third for you.’

  The porter stowed my kari on the luggage rack; more silver changed hands. Lord Rothbury helped me into the compartment, then climbed in after me and sat down on the opposite seat. He took out his watch, glanced at it, then put it away in his waistcoat pocket again with a smile. ‘We’ve got a few minutes before it leaves. Here’s your ticket.’

  He handed it to me, along with more coins – some of them gold ones, this time. But I’d done nothing to earn a tip, so I handed them all back. ‘I canna take this, thank ye all the same.’

  Reaching across he slipped the coins into my coat pocket. ‘I can’t have you travelling penniless.’

  ‘Then if I dinna need it, I’ll give it back tae ye.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s as you please.’ He reached down into the inside pocket of his overcoat and produced a parcel – ‘Barkers’ was printed on the brown paper wrapping. He tugged off the string, and opened the parcel – to reveal a pair of bright-blue, fluffy woollen gloves. ‘I hope you like the colour.’

  ‘They’re for me?’

  ‘Well, as you’ve no doubt guessed, I did originally purchase them for my own use – but they wouldn’t fit.’ He proceeded to solemnly remove his own grey calf-skin gloves and attempt to pull on the blue fluffy woollen ones. They looked so absurd with his glossy white cuffs and dark tailored overcoat – and on those huge hands of his! I giggled.

  Ceasing his pantomime he smiled at me. ‘It’s nice to hear that Scots giggle again. Give me your hands.’ He peeled off my old gloves, and then drew on the new ones.

  I wriggled my fingers proudly. ‘Thank ye, thank ye so much. And thank ye for taking care of me, and for paying for ma ticket – and, and for everything.’

  He leant forward and took both my hands back into his. ‘Look, that decision we – spoke of, earlier. It really is your choice, you know. You mustn’t feel under any obligation to thank me in the traditional female manner.’ He gently squeezed my fingers.

  I looked at his broad shoulders, his huge great nose, his strong chin and – as his mouth curved into a smile I told him, ‘But maybe I’d like tae.’

  His smile broadening he murmured, ‘Well naturally, that would be very nice for me too. But let’s leave the final decision until I get back, shall we? When I can see a lot more pink between those freckles, eh?’ His fingers stroked mine. ‘You know I really shouldn’t have pestered you the way I did before.’

  I said quickly, ‘Ye didna pester me.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’

  After a moment of silence I reassured him, ‘Well, ye’re no doing it the noo.’

  He laughed softly. ‘I’ve realised now that the Eve Gunns of this world respond better to a light hand on the reins.’

  I frowned. ‘Are there a lot of Eve Gunns in the world?’

  He neighed. ‘No! In fact, I’m inclined to think they’re pretty rare specimens – which is why I don’t want to let this one slip through my fingers.’ His hands tightened on mine.

  The whistle blew. ‘Damn! Time for me to go.’ Leaning over, he gave me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth, before rising unhurriedly to his feet. The train was already moving as he collected his hat, gloves and cane with one hand, opened the door with the other, paused a moment to judge his distance and then leapt out. Without breaking his stride he continued to run alongside the train so he could slam the door shut, before restoring his hat to his head to enable him to raise it to me in farewell.

  I waved, he smiled back – then slowed, allowing me to draw away from him.

  Chapter Forty One

  As I sat on that train I felt just one overwhelming emotion – relief. Somebody else was in charge. Oh, I know I was supposed to believe in independence and making my own choices – but for the time being I’d had enough of all that. Horseface – Lord Rothbury – call him what you will – had taken over, and I was so grateful. I wiggled my fingers, warm in his blue fluffy gloves, then put my head back against the hard upholstery of the seat and let my whole body relax – and rest.

  Rest, that’s all I did for my first week at Overby. On my arrival a housekeeper in a neat black dress welcomed me, and a trim maid escorted me up to my bedroom and ran a hot bath. As soon as I was out of the bath she brought a tray to my bedroom, and I crept between smooth linen sheets, drank my soup from a dainty china plate set on a starched white damask cloth and fell asleep.

  Early next morning I woke briefly to the soft sounds of a housemaid clearing the grate and re-lighting the fire – and fell asleep again.

  When I woke again much later I just lay gazing around at that g
lowing, golden room. At the soft folds of the pale yellow curtains, at the yellow-rose pelmet scalloped above them, at the wallpaper with its pattern of flowing green leaves and glowing golden pomegranates. At the screen by the washstand – which had pictures of nesting ducks on it, and at the washstand itself, made of warm, golden brown wood – just like the bedstead, the chairs and the small writing table by the window.

  I put out one wondering hand and gently stroked the shining bedspread of golden brocade, with its exuberant pattern of leaves and flowers. Everywhere there was colour, light, curves, pattern – all giving rest to senses which had been jarred by that bleak barren hospital ward, by that cramped, dingy attic. If I’d believed in crying I would have wept tears of relief.

  Instead I worked my way steadily through a tray of soft boiled eggs, crisp brown toast, fresh butter and tasty orange marmalade – all accompanied by numerous cups of fragrant tea. Then I lay back on the pillows – his pillows – and let that golden room lull me to sleep once more.

  When I finally woke up again I felt as if I’d been asleep for a hundred years – like Sleeping Beauty. And when I walked slowly over to the window and looked out I discovered that, just like her, I’d been sleeping in a tower.

  My tower jutted out from the main house for its first three floors, but then rose boldly up on its own for the final two. My bedroom, which had been that of Lady Sophie’s governess, was on the first floor of the tower proper, and so on a level with the roofs of the rest of the house. The nursery suite lay below – it was the nursery bathroom I’d bathed in last night – with the nursery W.C. next to it. There was also a night nursery, so Elsie – that was the name of the housemaid who was currently attending to my every need – told me. And a small nursery kitchen with a dumb waiter for raising and lowering trays in one corner – and right next to it, the nursery branch of the house telephone. As an ex-housemaid I was most impressed by that – no more running upstairs to answer a bell, and then discovering that you’d got to run all the way back down again to fetch whatever was required!