Page 60 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘There’s going to be a band at the fair,’ Doris said, ‘and dancing!’ The servants all got time off to go to the Canons Ashmore annual fair on Poor’s Field, in the village. She threw a sly glance at Sam. ‘You can dance with me, if you like. Show me how you jig about.’

The dam broke and they all started talking about the fair, which would have rides, and booths, and races, and plenty to eat and drink.

‘It’s a pity we can’t have it here,’ Mr Afton said to Mrs Webster.

‘We don’t have the space outside,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘If only we had a park, like at the Grange. But Miss Taylor once told me that they used to have a flower show here. I wonder if her ladyship would revive it.’

‘It’d be something,’ Afton said. ‘Miss Hatto, perhaps you could mention it to her ladyship. When the moment seems right?’

Miss Hatto only gave her mysterious smile and didn’t say yes or no.

And Mr Crooks ate bread and butter and let the noise wash over him, reflecting on the changes of fortune life brought.

Once he had been valet to the old earl, the most consequential person below stairs after the butler; now he was just a visiting valet.

But Mr Sebastian was a kind master and a true gentleman, and Crooks was gradually raising his sartorial standards to match Crooks’s own.

The long sojourn abroad had taught him that his master and the new mistress were truly devoted to each other, an attachment that deserved his respect.

Furthermore, Mrs Sebastian had displayed an evenness of temper at all times, which boded well for the household.

Travel, especially abroad, involved inconveniences that could bring out the worst in people of the bluest blood.

To bear patiently with delays, lost items, unhelpful officials, and incomprehensible foreigners made the former sewing-maid a true lady in Crooks’s eyes.

He only hoped the other Wisteria House servants would see it the same way.

‘This is very fine, madam,’ Ellen said, approaching with the evening gown. ‘Is it Paris?’

‘Yes,’ Dory said. ‘Paquin.’

Ellen committed the name to memory. ‘Beautiful embroidery. And the colour’s lovely.’

Dory was emboldened to ask, ‘Are they all very upset, downstairs?’

Ellen didn’t answer at once, lifting the dress over Dory’s head. Then, from behind her, starting on the hooks, she said, ‘You know what some of them are like, madam. Mr Afton says, “Dogs bark when the caravan goes by.”’

Dory met her eyes in the mirror. ‘Do you know what that means?’

‘Sort of,’ Ellen said. ‘Not the words, exactly, but the sense of it. I like Mr Afton. He’s always got a twinkle in his eye.

’ There was silence until she’d fastened the last hook, and twitched the shoulders into place.

‘This is such a lovely gown, madam. Even her ladyship hasn’t got one as nice.

If you’ll excuse the liberty, your hair’s not quite right at the back. ’

‘I did it myself,’ Dory admitted, slightly embarrassed.

‘Can I fix it for you?’ She pulled out a few pins and began re-coiling the chignon. Then, feeling the moment was right, she said, ‘Will you be hiring a lady’s maid, madam, if I may ask?’

‘I haven’t really thought about it,’ Dory said.

‘Because, if you don’t mind me saying, you ought to have one. Fine lady’s gowns always have hooks in hard places. And they need the hair to be just so.’

‘I expect you’re right. I don’t know whether Mr Sebastian—’

‘I bet Mr Sebastian will want you to have everything you ought. He’s such a kind gentleman.

And, madam, if you were to be thinking about engaging a lady’s maid – well, it’s what I’ve always wanted to be.

I’ve maided lots of ladies who’ve come without their maids so I know what to do, and everyone says I’ve got a light hand with hair.

There, that’s done.’ She pushed in a last pin and stepped back.

She gave Dory a cocked, hopeful look. ‘I promise I’d give satisfaction. ’

‘We’re only staying one night,’ Dory said doubtfully. It would be a rushed decision.

‘I know, madam. I could be ready to come tomorrow. I’m sure her ladyship wouldn’t mind if it was what Mr Sebastian wanted. I know she thinks the world of him.’

Dory looked at her reflection while she pondered.

Probably Ellen was right, and Sebastian would want her to have a maid.

And probably she needed one. Would it be better or worse to be maided by someone who knew her from the old days?

But a stranger might learn what she had been and take offence. That would be painful.

She thought of arriving home in Henley without a maid, and having to call on Olive the housemaid to hook her up, the only other choice being Mrs May.

Ellen was ambitious to be a lady’s maid, which meant she would insist that the person she maided was treated with respect.

She would be . . . an ally, perhaps? Dory had witnessed the closeness that sometimes developed between mistress and maid.

She had never had a friend – it would be nice to have someone on her side, perhaps to confide in.

‘I should like you to be my maid,’ she said, and saw Ellen beam with genuine pleasure. ‘I will ask Mr Sebastian, and send a message to you.’

Ellen handed her the long silk gloves. She knew what an opportunity this was. It was hard to make the jump from housemaid to lady’s maid. Another chance like this might not come for years, if ever. ‘Thank you, madam,’ she said.

‘Thank you , Ellen,’ said Dory.

Prince Usingen’s English, carefully instilled in him in childhood by a tutor with the aid of a whippy cane, had abandoned him entirely.

It didn’t matter very much as the doctor, of course, was German, as was the brick-faced nurse; and, in any case, once labour started he was banished from his wife’s presence and confined to the ground floor.

Linda, who spoke excellent German, had established herself in the lying-in chamber before anyone could question whether she should be there.

Miss Kettel was giving Arabella lessons in the old schoolroom to keep her mind off things.

Which left only the two young ladies to comfort and reassure him through the ordeal.

Rachel and Alice hadn’t sufficient grasp of the language to cope with such a delicate task.

So the three of them sat exuding silent goodwill, except when Paul leaped to his feet as though driven by a hot spike and walked up and down the room, while the two girls held hands and whispered to each other.

‘Why is it taking so long?’ Alice whispered, when the prince was at the window, his unquiet hands clasped behind his back. ‘Linda told me that the more babies you have, the quicker it should be.’

‘I don’t know,’ Rachel whispered back. ‘Linda’s only had two, perhaps she doesn’t really know.’

‘Mama’s much older than Linda. Perhaps that makes a difference.’

Rachel’s eyes were beginning to fill with tears. ‘You don’t think . . . She won’t die , will she?’

‘No, of course not,’ Alice said automatically, not sure at all, and forgetting to whisper.

The prince turned and said, ‘ Bitte? ’

She had to say something. ‘You must be tired, sir. And you had nothing at breakfast. Shall I ring for coffee?’ she tried. He stared at her blankly. She racked her brain for the German. ‘ Mochten sie Kaffee? Soll ich klingeln? ’

He mustered a scrap of English. ‘Sank you, no.’ He turned his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘ Ich frage mich . . . Is all in ordnung ? Why is it to be so long?’

Alice was embarrassed by his emotion. Mothers and fathers should be remote figures, not human beings made of flesh. ‘The doctor knows what he is doing,’ she said, trying to sound confident. ‘Everything will be all right.’

He resumed his tormented pacing.

‘Did you really mean it?’ Rachel asked. ‘That Mama will be all right?’

‘Of course.’ Alice wondered why it was left to her to reassure people. Shouldn’t someone be comforting her ? She thought of Axe, his big, quiet, powerful presence. He would not pace about and wring his hands. She would not be afraid or uncertain if he were there.

Rachel blotted her eyes. ‘Did I hear you say something about coffee? Could we have some? And cake? Breakfast was so long ago, I’m starving.’

‘I’ll ring,’ Alice said, and got up. It gave her something to do.

‘It’s not right, Mr Crooks,’ said Mrs May. ‘Whichever way you look at it, she’s been a servant in this house. I don’t see how we’re supposed to forget that.’

‘Forget it you will, and you shall,’ Crooks said.

The maid Olive had moved to Mrs May’s side as if seconding her opinion, and Crooks guessed that this argument had been rehearsed many times in the past weeks. Joe, the handyman, who had come into the kitchen for the mid-morning bait, only stared from one face to another with his mouth open.

‘But it seems to me—’ Mrs May began, settling in for the fight.

Crooks interrupted her: ‘Tell me, when you applied for your position here, did Mr Sebastian promise he would consult you if he ever decided to take a wife?’

Mrs May paused a moment before answering. ‘You’re an educated man, Mr Crooks. You’ve got all the words, which I haven’t, and you can twist things round so they sound right when you say them. But it doesn’t make it so.’

‘Then I’ll make it simple for you, Mrs May. Suppose you went to the master, and said to him, “I don’t like your choice of wife. Get rid of her, or I’m handing in my notice.” What do you suppose he would say?’

Mrs May’s lips tightened. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, Mr Crooks.’

‘Isn’t there?’

‘I’m sure I never meant—’

‘It seems to me that’s exactly what you meant. I’ll tell you plainly – and this goes for you, Olive, and Joe, as well – the master has waited all his life to meet the woman who could win his heart. And if you don’t care for him enough to welcome her, you had better find another place.’

Olive stared anxiously at Mrs May for her reaction. It was a good place. She didn’t want to give it up. She looked at Crooks. ‘I s’pose if the master really loves her . . .’

From the drawing-room, the sound of the piano started up – a halting scale going up then, even less certainly, down.

‘He’s teaching her to play the piano,’ Crooks said. He saw that the significance was beyond two-thirds of them at least. ‘The master has chosen a wife and he loves her with all his heart. You’ll treat her as you treat him, or he’ll have your hide.’

There was a brief, thoughtful silence, then Joe said, ‘I think she’s really pretty. The mistress, I mean.’

Crooks smiled at him. ‘One person, at least, who understands his own interests.’

Joe, who had meant it simply and literally, didn’t understand the implication of the words, but he accepted the smile.

‘It’s hard,’ Dory said, working her way again up the scale of C with hands that had quite other ideas.

‘Everything worthwhile is hard,’ Sebastian said. ‘Except being married to you, which is as easy as breathing.’

‘For you, perhaps,’ she said, then looked up quickly and said, ‘Oh, I didn’t mean—’

‘I know what you meant. Didn’t you have servants when you were a girl? When you lived with your papa?’

‘Only Mrs Higgins, who came in to scrub and do the heavy wash.’

‘And did Mrs Higgins ever say, “I’m not taking orders from you”?’

Dory smiled. ‘I was only a child. I didn’t give orders.’

‘Very well,’ Sebastian said patiently. ‘When you go into Poining’s to buy some thread, Mrs Poining greets you with a smile and waits on you. She doesn’t scowl and say, “It’s over there, get it yourself,” does she?’

‘That’s different,’ Dory began.

‘It isn’t, though. You are the customer and it’s her job to serve you. This house is my shop, and my servants are paid to wait on you.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ She stood up. ‘My hands are aching, I must rest a moment. Will you play for me?’ He took her place on the piano stool, and let out a ripple of scales like running water. ‘Oh, now you’re humiliating me,’ she said, with a laugh.

He looked up at her with a fondness that made her catch her breath. ‘I can’t cut out, hem, sew a seam, darn or embroider. Your skills are far more useful than mine. You are a more worthwhile human being than me, as well as being a hundred times better to look at.’

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and it still gave her a little jolt of pleasure that she was entitled to do so. ‘Just tell me how I should behave to them,’ she said, going to the meaning behind his compliment.

‘Be pleasant and firm, just as you would be to Mrs Poining, or any other shop assistant. They will soon get used to your altered status, I promise you. And you will, too – Mrs Tallant.’

‘When it comes to playing the piano, Mrs No-talent-at-all.’

‘Mrs Far-too-impatient! One lesson is all you’ve had. You must stick at it.’

‘I shall, but play something for me now. The Chopin I like.’

He obeyed, and grinned up at her as his fingers coaxed out the familiar notes. ‘I wonder if they’ll think this is you, and be in awe of you?’

‘I doubt it,’ she laughed.

‘I don’t see why not. I am,’ he said.