Frost Hollow Hall (10 page)

Mrs Jessop cleared her throat. The talking stopped abruptly and faces turned our way. I wiped my hands on my skirts, swallowing hard. Mrs Jessop went over to a man in a dark jacket who was sat at the head of the table. I’d seen him before. He was Mr Phelps, the butler. Mrs Jessop spoke rapidly in his ear. He nodded a few times and looked at me before dabbing his mouth with a napkin and getting to his feet. Everyone else got up too.

‘Sit! Sit!’ he cried, waving them back into their seats.

They sat down again.

‘Now then,’ he said. ‘This is our new housemaid, Matilda Higgins from the village.’

I felt myself shrink inside my clothes.

‘Welcome to you, Matilda.’

Mrs Jessop said, ‘Mr Phelps, it’s Tilly, not Matilda. Just so we’re clear.’

‘Thank you, Mrs J.’ Mr Phelps shot her a look before addressing two maids sat across the table from him. ‘Now Dorcas, you’ll need to get
Matilda
kitted out. Gracie can assist you.’

The older maid nodded. I’d seen her here yesterday, hadn’t I? She was the pretty head housemaid who’d had to chop vegetables. Everything about her was neat and clean, including her white frilled cap which sat perfectly in place.

Next to her was a younger plump-faced girl with dark, dancing eyes. She looked nearer my age. I tried to smile. The dark-eyed girl grinned back, showing a gap between her two front teeth. Dorcas, though, looked at me coolly, and I felt myself colour up again.

‘Ah, Mr Phelps,’ Mrs Jessop butted in. ‘
I
should like to take charge of Tilly directly, for today at least. Dorcas has plenty to do already.’

Mr Phelps twitched like a fly was bothering him. The other people watched.

‘In this house it is not a housekeeper’s duty to train up new staff,’ he said. ‘It is the responsibility of the head housemaid, and Dorcas is more than capable of performing such a task.’

‘But on this occasion . . .’

‘Thank you, Mrs Jessop.’ Mr Phelps held up his hand. ‘We must try to keep to our proper roles where possible. Now, let us finish our meal.’

Mr Phelps took his seat again and beckoned me over. ‘Matilda, sit with Gracie and have something to eat.’

As I slid into a seat next to the dark-eyed girl, I noticed Mrs Jessop had gone.

‘Hullo, I’m Gracie Waite.’ The girl held out a buttery hand, then snatched it back again. ‘Oops, sorry! Should’ve wiped it first.’

So this was the famous Gracie who’d taken to her bed yesterday. She certainly didn’t look sick today. And she seemed so friendly that I liked her at once.

‘Hullo,’ I said.

‘What’s with you and Mrs Jessop then?’ Gracie said, her eyes darting over my face.

‘She’s keeping a watch on me, I s’pect. Thinks I’m a lost cause already.’ And I told her about knocking the notebooks on the floor.

Gracie’s face fell. ‘Oh lordy! Not them notebooks!’

‘What d’you mean?’

But she started to giggle, and I saw she was just having a bit of fun.

‘I shouldn’t laugh,’ she said. ‘Mrs Jessop keeps a record of everything. But don’t look so worried – all housekeepers write a journal. Only she’s very particular about hers.’

She passed me some bread, but my guts were too knotted; I found I couldn’t manage anything after all. I took a small slice and went to stuff it in my pocket, thinking I’d be starved come midday. Gracie grinned as she watched me.

‘We have our dinner at one o’clock. It’s a big hot meal with pudding and everything. Believe me, you won’t go hungry working here.’

I felt a right idiot, so I put the food back on my plate and hoped no one else had noticed.

The others started to leave the table now. I recognised the carter who’d brought me here, joking with his lad from the stables. Another maid cleared the plates away, whistling a tune as she did so. I noticed Cook talking to Mr Phelps. And along from us, next to Dorcas, two very tall men in breeches and brass-buttoned coats laughed as they downed the last of their tea. They all seemed happy enough. I thought of how cosy they’d looked when I’d first clapped eyes on them. Maybe I’d just imagined the rest.

‘That’s Samuel Ketteridge, the footman,’ said Gracie, who’d noticed me staring. ‘And the lanky one’s Peter Watson, the second footman.’ She went pink as she said his name.

Dorcas then got to her feet. ‘Right Tilly, let’s get you sorted.’ As I stood up, she turned to Gracie. ‘You’re to make up a bed for Tilly in your room.’

Gracie pouted. ‘Do I have to go up there?’

‘It’s daylight, you silly fool! Nothing’s going to harm you.’

‘That’s what you said on Sunday, and then look what happened . . .’

Dorcas cut in. ‘And now you’ve got someone to share with. Isn’t that nice? Just what you wanted.’

So Gracie went one way and we went the other. Right at the end of the passage we came to a small room with cupboards all along one wall. It was icy cold in here. No fire burned in the grate.

Dorcas shut the door behind us.

‘I know who you are,’ she said. ‘Half dead you were when Will Potter brought you in. We laid you out on the kitchen table to get the water out of your lungs. Lord knows, you were lucky not to perish.’

I kept my eyes down.

‘But I trust there’ll be no more dramatics.’

‘Mrs Jessop’s already warned me,’ I said, then thinking this sounded pert, quickly added, ‘I promise to do my best, honest I do.’

‘Good girl.’

I caught Dorcas’s eye and she smiled, two dimples appearing in her cheeks so she was prettier than ever. I bet Will Potter thought her handsome when he came here on his deliveries, though I couldn’t imagine her looking twice at a louse like him.

Dorcas went to a drawer and got out a tape, then started to measure me up. ‘You’re quite small, aren’t you?’ she said, looking me up and down like I was a pig and she was the blinking farmer. ‘Hope we’ve got something that’ll fit.’

She climbed up on a chair and started rooting around in a cupboard full of linens.

‘Your uniform,’ she said, handing me a pile of clothes. ‘Try them on for size.’

Shivering, I stripped down to my slip, grateful for Ma’s gift of a decent undergarment. First, I tried on a striped grey cotton dress like the ones Dorcas and Gracie were wearing. The fabric was stiff and smelled of soap.

‘You wear this in the mornings when you’re cleaning and laying the fires,’ Dorcas said as I wriggled into it. ‘Turn around. Raise your arms. Hmmm . . . fits you well.’

Next she gave me a plain pinny and a white cap.

‘These go on top. You’ll need to keep your hair tucked right under. Here, like this.’ She smoothed my hair back tight to my head.

Then she handed me a finer dress in black wool. I rubbed it between my fingers. So soft and warm; I’d never worn such a thing in my life.

‘Nice, isn’t it? You’ll wear it in the afternoons and evenings for when you’re called upstairs.’

‘Upstairs? To the Barringtons?’

She frowned. ‘That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?’

‘’Course not. I’ll be fine,’ I said, when really my insides were fluttering.

‘Good.’ She locked up the cupboards and pocketed the key. ‘You’ll need to be in this house.’

16

The Back Stairs

By the end of the day, I’d run right out of floors to scrub. My hands were red raw and my back was killing me. All I wanted was my bed. I’d not got within sniffing distance of the Barringtons, neither. Each time they rang down, it was Dorcas who took up their trays. She seemed to double up as housemaid and lady’s maid, and Mrs Jessop did the rest, though the way they rolled their eyes at the ceiling showed they didn’t much care for this arrangement.

If only they’d asked me!
I’d
have carried a tray upstairs gladly. I was dying to see more of the house, and not just its flipping floors. But Dorcas didn’t ask me. Nor did Mrs Jessop. My smart black dress stayed hanging on its peg all day.

At suppertime, we ate ham and cheese in the servants’ hall. Gracie saved me a place next to her and chattered on about this and that, but I was so tired, it was a job to stay awake. I began to feel low, thinking of Ma at home by herself. As for Pa and Eliza, well, I didn’t dare think too long about
them
.

It was almost a relief when the meal was over.

‘Good night to you all,’ said Mr Phelps, getting to his feet. Gracie said he had his own quarters where he retired every evening, and that they were almost as grand as above stairs.

Once he’d gone, Mrs Jessop ordered us to clear the table. As Gracie did one side, I did the other. She worked fast and soon caught me up.

‘Give me those.’ She took an armful of plates off me, whispering, ‘You do Mrs Jessop’s. She don’t like to be kept waiting, and she’s got her beady eye on you for some reason.’

As I reached for Mrs Jessop’s plate her arm shot out to stop me. ‘Show me your hands.’

I glanced down at my poor fingers. Six solid hours of soap and carbolic, and they were chapped almost to bleeding. It was obvious I wasn’t used to such hard work, and I felt rather ashamed.

‘For goodness’ sake, child! Show me!’ she snapped, and pushed back my sleeves before I could object. She took hold of my hands quite firmly and turned them over. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I see.’

Across the table, Dorcas watched us. She frowned in a way I couldn’t quite read. Then a service bell rang. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Mrs Jessop dropped my hands with a sigh. A voice called out, ‘Drawing room! Her Ladyship!’ and another of those looks passed between Mrs Jessop and Dorcas. The bell tinkled again. Mrs Jessop got to her feet.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said, irritably.

Soon as she’d gone, the mood seemed to lift. Cook brought round a platter of cakes, and the footmen poured mugs of ale. Voices got louder and laughter broke out as the table was pushed against the wall and chairs pulled up to the fire. Trouble was, it made the room seem emptier, somehow. Away from the fire, it was bitterly cold. Shadows seemed to thicken in the corners, and the noise echoed off the walls in a way that made even the laughter sound hollow.

A sad sort of feeling came over me. Then Gracie reappeared at my side.

‘You all right?’

I just about managed a smile.

‘Get yourself some cake, why don’t you? I’ll finish up here,’ said Gracie and took the last plates out to the kitchen.

So I grabbed myself a little fruit cake, and took one for Gracie too, then pulled up two chairs near to the fire.

‘Give us a tune!’ the carter said, as Samuel Ketteridge sat down at the piano in the corner.

The footman took off his fine jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Then he flexed his fingers and grinned in a way that reminded me of Will and I felt a pang, though it was probably just because I was tired. The piano wasn’t much in tune, and he kept missing keys, but soon he found his way with a jaunty tune that got our feet tapping. Then came a soppy song about a long-lost sweetheart, which had everyone dabbing at their eyes. Despite the jarring echo and the draught at my back, I hoped he’d play all night and never stop. With everyone else sobbing along with me, it gave me good reason to be sad.

After few more songs, people stretched in their seats and began making their way to bed. I realised then that Gracie hadn’t joined me. I guessed she was still out in the kitchens.

A hand touched my shoulder. ‘Here, take this.’

I turned to see Cook offering me a cup of hot milk. I took it gladly.

‘First night’s always tough. But you’ll get used to it,’ she said. ‘Gracie’s been here a year now, and she’s . . .’

A scream from the kitchen cut her short. Then came an almighty crash. It was the sound of china smashing to the floor.

Dorcas leapt to her feet. ‘Is that Gracie?
Again?
’

‘I’ll deal with her this time,’ said Cook. ‘Though we can’t keep covering up for her.’

I glanced sideways at Dorcas, who’d taken her seat again and was chewing her lip fretfully.

‘Don’t ask,’ she said, reading the question in my look. ‘Gracie’s got this silly notion into her head, when really she’s just mightily clumsy.’

Poor Gracie. She’d cleared the table faster than I had, and carried armfuls of plates like she’d done it thousands of times. She didn’t look clumsy to me. And she’d been kind, offering to clear up when she saw I was dead on my feet. It didn’t seem right she should get an earful. Downing my drink in one quick gulp, I took the cup back out to Cook.

I stopped in the kitchen doorway. Gracie was sobbing and twisting her apron in her hands. She looked in a terrible state.

‘But I didn’t drop it, I swear!’ Gracie cried. ‘It lifted itself off the table. I was nowhere near it.’

‘You have to stop this nonsense!’ said Cook.

‘It’s true! On me mother’s life!’

Cook folded her arms. ‘So this china all over the floor here,
and
the stuff what’s been smashed these last few days . . . all this is down to a
ghost
?’

‘I’ve said so, in’t I?’

‘It’s you not drying your hands proper, that’s what it is! I’ve told you time and time again how it makes the china slippy, and you just don’t listen.’

‘So how come I never dropped things before?’

‘Perhaps you was more careful then.’

‘Oh, why won’t you believe me?’ said Gracie, blubbing more than ever.

‘Fact is, china’s getting broke every day now, and you’re in such a lather about it, you’re making yourself ill. You got away with it on Tuesday. We said you had a headache. But sooner or later Mrs Jessop’ll find out. And what do you suppose we’ll tell
her
?’

Gracie grabbed Cook’s arm. ‘The truth. That there’s something queer down here, below stairs I mean. Something’s really
wrong
. . .’

Seeing me, they stepped smartly apart. Gracie picked up a broom and started sweeping. Cook put on a smile.

‘Tilly! Feeling better? Don’t mind Gracie. She’s had an upset, that’s all.’

Some upset! The girl was as white as paper. I’d heard enough to not be fooled, and my head suddenly filled with all that Will had told me. This looked like more than just gossip. It seemed that Frost Hollow Hall
was
haunted inside as well as out. I shivered with excitement. For the ghost here had to be Kit’s, didn’t it?