A Village Scandal Page 9

  ‘Do other large establishments work in this way?’ Marjorie asked warily.

  ‘Oh, yes, they most certainly do.’ Daisy spoke with certainty, although she had no idea whether or not it was true, but it seemed to convince Marjorie.

  ‘Then that’s how it will be.’ Marjorie waved her housekeeper away before spinning round and catching Patience a clout. ‘Will you stop moaning? You’re driving me mad. How will I ever find a husband for you if you carry on like a spoilt child?’

  Daisy felt instantly sorry for Patience, who clutched the side of her face and genuine tears rolled down her pale cheeks. ‘If you young ladies would like to follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.’

  ‘I’d rather be at home,’ Charity said crossly. ‘This old house is probably haunted.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Patience moaned. ‘Now I shan’t sleep a wink.’

  Daisy chose to ignore them and she marched off in the direction of the staircase. If they chose not to follow her that was their problem, not hers. She ascended without looking round but she could hear the patter of their feet on the treads and she knew she had won this particular skirmish. They were spoilt and could be petulant, but she had nursed them through cholera during the epidemic and she knew their faults and also their redeeming features, although at this moment she did not like either of them very much.

  Marjorie was to have the room that Daisy had shared with Jay, and sanctioning that had hurt more than Daisy could have imagined, but it was the largest bedchamber with a wonderful view of the grounds, and glimpses of the creek as it threaded its way between the trees like a molten silver ribbon. Charity, being the elder, had been allocated Mary’s former room, but this brought another petulant outburst from Patience when she discovered that she had been given a much smaller bedchamber, with a view partially obscured by the shrubbery at the side of the house. Daisy stood in the doorway while the sisters argued.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ Patience grumbled. ‘I always have to have the smaller bedroom. Just because Charity is older than me it doesn’t mean I am second best.’

  ‘Shut up, Patty.’ Charity glanced round the room. ‘It’s not too bad, and you only sleep here.’

  ‘But you have a better view and a bigger clothes press. It’s always the same wherever we are.’

  Charity gave her sister a push towards the four-poster bed. ‘Have a lie-down and sulk. I’m tired of listening to your constant moaning.’

  ‘I hate you, Charity Harker.’ Patience flopped down on the bed. ‘At least I’ve got a feather mattress. I hope yours is filled with hay.’

  ‘Don’t take any notice of my baby sister, Daisy.’ Charity tossed her head and stalked out onto the landing, pushing Daisy aside as she slammed the door. ‘This whole move is madness, if you ask me.’ She flounced back to her own room. ‘I’m not going to be treated like a something in a cattle market for Mama to sell off to the highest bidder. When I marry it will be for love, and not for a title or a large estate.’

  Daisy left Patience to get over her tantrum. She could hear her sobbing even through the closed door, but just now Charity seemed to be the one who needed comforting. Daisy followed her back to the larger bedchamber. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, Charity?’

  ‘You married for love, didn’t you? Mama said your husband was a criminal, but you married him all the same.’

  ‘Yes, Jay and I were very much in love, but your mama is wrong about one thing. My husband did get into trouble with the law when he was very young, but it was for a minor offence and he served his time in prison.’

  ‘But you loved him anyway?’

  ‘Yes, and I love him still.’

  ‘But Mama said he was lost at sea.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I would feel it in my heart if he were dead.’

  Charity’s pale eyes filled with tears and she clasped her hands to her bosom. ‘How truly romantic. If only I could find someone like that.’

  ‘You will one day, I’m certain. In the meantime would you like me to send your maid to you? I expect you want to unpack.’

  ‘I suppose so. It looks as if we’ve got to stay here, but I’d rather die an old maid than marry a man I didn’t love.’

  ‘I’ll go and find your maid.’ Daisy beat a hasty retreat. The Harker family had only been in the house for an hour or so and already her nerves were stretched to breaking point. Perhaps bankruptcy would have been easier to bear than the torment these women seemed intent on putting her through.

  Somehow Daisy managed to struggle through the first morning without losing her temper, although at times she was tempted to tell Marjorie Harker a few home truths and walk out, but she knew that this would be futile. Marjorie had the upper hand and she obviously revelled in her new-found power, but the peak of Daisy’s humiliation and frustration occurred when the family assembled in the dining hall for their midday meal. Daisy was about to take her place at table when Marjorie shook her head.

  ‘No, Daisy. That won’t do.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Daisy stared at her nonplussed. She had been careful not to take her rightful position at the head of the table.

  ‘You’re forgetting your place. You will take your meals in the morning parlour, alone, while I am mistress of Creek Manor.’

  Daisy rose to her feet. ‘I am not employed by you, Mrs Harker. You don’t pay me a wage.’

  ‘Perhaps you would rather live with your aunt and uncle?’ Marjorie said sweetly. ‘But in that case I would have to evict your mother-in-law and your lame friend with all her brats. It’s not my fault you find yourself in this position, so either abide by my rules or leave now.’

  ‘What does it matter where she takes her meals, Mama?’ Charity demanded.

  ‘We’ll have some very important guests arriving next week. We will act as if we were to the manor born, and that doesn’t include dining with underlings.’

  Charity looked as though she was about to start an argument, but Daisy held up her hand. ‘You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, Mrs Harker.’ She left the table and could only be thankful that none of the servants had been present to witness her embarrassment. Outside in the oak-panelled corridor, she stopped and took a deep breath. Whatever happened she would save Creek Manor for Jay when he returned and safeguard his legacy, but for now she must do whatever was necessary to survive. She made her way to the kitchen and entered to stony silence. Cook and the Creek Manor servants were ranged on one side of the long deal table, and Marjorie’s cook and her underlings were on the opposite side. The atmosphere was as tense as Daisy imagined it must have been on the battlefield at Waterloo before the fighting commenced.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Daisy demanded, forgetting her chagrin in the need to save the situation below stairs. There were sharp knives laid out on the table and by the look on the kitchen staff’s faces they might at any moment seize a weapon.

  When no one answered Daisy walked up to Cook. ‘Mrs Harker and her daughters are waiting for their luncheon, Mrs Pearce.’

  ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but them lot won’t co-operate. They say that Mrs Harker wants things done her way.’

  Daisy glanced across the table. Marjorie Harker’s cook was tall and thin with a face like a dried-up prune. ‘It’s Mrs Salt, isn’t it? You are Mrs Harker’s head cook.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Phoebe Salt’s hooded eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Mrs Harker is very particular about the way her food is served. I’ve had nothing but criticism from Mrs Pearce, and your servants have gone out of their way to be difficult.’

  Daisy could tell by the attitude of Cook and her staff that there was some truth in this and she stifled a sigh. There was no sign of Mrs Ralston, who should have been overseeing the workings of the kitchen, but Daisy suspected she might be locked in mortal combat with Mrs Jones. Daisy had a sudden vision of the two housekeepers wrestling for control of the huge iron ring containing the keys to the manor house and cellars.

  ‘I realise th
is is a difficult situation,’ she said in measured tones. ‘It’s not easy for any of us, and I’m sure you will understand my position. I am here to advise and assist Mrs Harker, so I can only suggest that Mrs Pearce and Mrs Salt take turns in running the kitchen. Mrs Salt knows her mistress’s preferences, but Mrs Pearce is well versed in organising the kitchen and the various larders, the laundry and the still room. Do you think you can work like that?’

  The opposing sides glanced at each other, whispering and nodding, although some shook their heads.

  ‘It doesn’t seem as if we have much choice, ma’am,’ Mrs Pearce said reluctantly. ‘I’ll work with Mrs Salt if she’ll promise to do similar.’

  Mrs Salt shrugged. ‘I agree, but only if everyone abides by the rules.’

  ‘Then I suggest you get back to work and serve luncheon to Mrs Harker and the young ladies.’

  Cook put her head on one side, giving Daisy a searching look. ‘What about you, ma’am?’

  ‘I’ll have my meals on a tray in the morning parlour, Mrs Pearce.’ Daisy could feel the ripple of whispers as she left the kitchen. Servants seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to discord above stairs, and now the rightful mistress of Creek Manor had been ousted so that she was neither a servant nor a member of the family. Daisy found herself in a similar position to that of a governess, suspended in limbo between above and below stairs. She made her way to the morning parlour and waited for someone to bring her meal.

  After a solitary luncheon Daisy found herself with nothing to do. She could not imagine what her duties might include for the rest of the day, but in the middle of the afternoon she was summoned to Marjorie’s presence in the drawing room.

  ‘I realise that this is new to you, Daisy,’ Marjorie said with a patronising smile, ‘and so I’ve written a list of the tasks I wish you to perform each and every day, although that doesn’t include the time when my guests arrive. I expect you to oversee the smooth running of the household, as well as attention to detail for the comfort of my important visitors.’ She handed a sheet of expensive writing paper to Daisy. ‘Study it at your leisure but I want you to begin right away, teaching my girls the social graces they will need when we entertain eminent guests.’

  Daisy glanced down the list, shaking her head. ‘I was only a governess at the Carrington mansion, Mrs Harker. They were a wealthy family, similar I imagine to your own, but they didn’t mix with high society.’

  ‘But you were once engaged to the son and heir, whom I believe went into the diplomatic service. That is the sort of husband I want for my girls, and mixing with such people will surely improve my husband’s chances of promotion.’

  Daisy felt almost sorry for the woman, who was trying so desperately to catch rich and influential husbands for her daughters, neither of whom appeared to be an eager bride. But perhaps her pity should be reserved for Charity and Patience, whose lives were being ruled by the actions of a domineering mother and neglectful father.

  ‘I will study this, Mrs Harker, and because we have an agreement I will do my best for the girls, but I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘You could at least help them to look more fashionable. If Charity had her way she would spend her time reading foolish romances, and Patience would be out all day riding her horse. I want you to make them into attractive young ladies, who know how to make polite conversation without scowling or bursting into tears. And I want my dinner parties to be the talk of the county. I want my reputation as a hostess to reach the attention of society hostesses in London.’

  ‘I can only do my best,’ Daisy said slowly. ‘But looking at this list, it doesn’t seem as though I have any time to myself.’

  ‘What would you wish to do? You have no husband, and no children. You are living in a cramped cottage with two other women and four children. I would have thought you might enjoy your time free from money worries.’

  ‘Surely I will have Sunday free so that I may visit my relations as well as attending church?’

  ‘You will be busy here, although you may attend church with us, and I’m sure your aunt and uncle will understand. Now please leave me. I have a headache coming on. You may start now with a lesson in deportment for my girls. I’ve noticed that you hold yourself very well. You can make them walk round with books balanced on their heads, or a backboard strapped to their shoulders. Patience stoops and that must be cured. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Harker.’

  ‘Just remember at all times that you are a servant at Creek Manor. You take your orders from me. If you play your part we will get on well – if not …’

  Chapter Seven

  Daisy was kept busy from early morning until late at night. Despite the lengthening hours of daylight she often had to pick her way across the fields to the cottage in total darkness, and sometimes in pouring rain, but Marjorie was relentless in her desire to have everything ready for the important guests who were due to arrive the following week. When she was not supervising the girls in their attempts to improve their chances of catching the eye of an eligible bachelor, Daisy was given the tasks usually performed by a lady’s maid. Miss Wendell took care of Marjorie and until now had looked after Charity and Patience, but she had been overwhelmed by the increased demands on her services and had taken to her bed with a sick headache, leaving Daisy no choice other than to take over her duties.

  At the end of each long and trying day, with the constant friction between the warring servants and the argumentative sisters, Daisy was quite glad to be on her own in the laundry room, washing fine lace or ironing the girls’ best gowns. She might have been at a loss as to how to handle a flat iron, had it not been for Hattie, who had taught her the art of heating the iron on the range and gauging the temperature by spitting on it, or holding it close to her cheek. When just a child, Daisy had wondered how Hattie had done so without burning herself, but in time she had acquired the skill, and she was fast becoming an expert. It was back-aching work, but it was quiet in the laundry room and a relief to be away from complaining voices. She had developed a fellow feeling with the servants, and she vowed that when the time came for her to take back responsibility for the household she would become a better employer and a more considerate mistress, although this was beginning to feel like an impossible dream.

  On Sunday Daisy attended church with the family, although she did not sit in the same pew. Afterwards, when she stepped outside, she was able to have a brief conversation with her aunt and uncle. Eleanora was upset and angry to find her niece being treated like a menial, but Sidney managed to calm her down and dissuaded her from confronting Marjorie Harker.

  ‘It’s a business arrangement, my dear,’ he said mildly. ‘Daisy has agreed to it and if that’s what it takes to save her home, then she was right to do so.’

  ‘But she’s being treated like a skivvy. Daisy was brought up to be a young lady, and we paid good money to have her educated. I thought she would do better for herself.’

  Daisy exchanged wry smiles with her uncle. ‘I’m quite all right, Aunt Eleanora. A little hard work never hurt anyone, and it’s not for ever.’

  ‘I blame that man you married. He was always unreliable and a rover.’

  ‘Aunt! How can you say such things?’

  ‘Yes, my dear. That’s a bit strong, considering the poor fellow is …’ Sidney glanced anxiously at Daisy. ‘He’s missing and may not return. I’m sorry, Daisy, but you’ll have to face facts one day.’

  ‘Until I know for certain I refuse to believe that Jay is dead.’ Daisy turned to acknowledge Marjorie, who was calling her with a note of impatience in her voice. ‘I have to go, but I’ll try to come and see you when I get some free time.’

  ‘It’s slavery, that’s what it is,’ Eleanora said grimly. ‘That woman is taking advantage of you, Daisy.’ She looked round and waved to Nick, who had just emerged from the porch. ‘Dr Neville will back me up on that, I’m sure.’

  Nick approached them, smiling. �
�What will I agree to, Mrs Marshall?’

  ‘Daisy is being treated like a slavey. That woman is using her and she’ll ruin Daisy’s health. You must tell her so, Doctor.’

  ‘I’m perfectly well,’ Daisy said stoutly. ‘And I have to go now, or else I’ll have to walk back to Creek Manor. You’ll excuse me, Nick.’ She hurried off without giving him a chance to respond, but her uncle’s remark had touched a nerve and she knew that was what everyone was thinking. Everyone, that is, except herself – she was convinced that Jay would return one day. She could only hope it would be soon. She quickened her pace. ‘I’m coming, Mrs Harker.’

  The first guests were due to arrive and the servants were up extra early, as was Daisy. She had been put in charge of arrangements including the choice of the rooms for each individual, although as yet she had not been allowed to see the guest list. All she knew was that there were three single gentlemen and two married couples, all of whom were in government service of some sort. Marjorie had not thought it important to share any more details and Daisy had been too busy to enquire. She liaised with Mrs Jones in the preparation of menus, and she had acted as go-between with Mrs Ralston when it came to placing orders with the various tradesmen, excluding the wine merchant, which was a task she left to Molesworth. She suspected that his years of serving Squire Tattersall had given him plenty of experience in choosing fine wines, and she had no doubt that he helped himself to a bottle or two from the cellar.

  There was a feeling of nervous anticipation in the house, and Daisy had the unenviable task of helping Charity to dress first, and to put her hair up in the most becoming style. There were the usual arguments over which gown was the most suitable; Charity wanted to wear an afternoon gown with a fetchingly low décolletage, which Daisy said was unsuitable. Charity threatened to take the choice to her mother, but Marjorie was in the middle of her own toilette and not to be disturbed. In the end Charity settled for a compromise and agreed to wear a pale-blue silk taffeta gown lavishly trimmed with lace. It was not what Daisy would have recommended, as the neckline was still far too daring for a morning gown, but Marjorie’s elder daughter was used to having her own way.