Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [35]
‘We must go now,’ Rose said, after half a dozen babies had been approached and rejected. ‘Madam knows exactly how long it takes to walk across the park to Hardwood House, and if I’m late back I’ll be for it.’
‘I like babies,’ Lily said, at last allowing herself to be led away.
‘Mmm,’ came the reply.
‘My sister had one once.’
Rose looked at her, startled. Surely she couldn’t be talking about that quiet and anxious girl she’d arrived with? ‘Are you sure?’
Lily nodded, frowning deeply. ‘I think so.’
Rose didn’t take the questioning any further. The girl was just spinning a tale.
x
Hardwood House was in quite the smartest road at the country end of Kensington, looking out on to a flourishing, tree-lined square to which only its residents had keys. Each house was tall and of noble proportions, with steps running up to the front door which were whitened every other day by scullery maids. The front doors were painted in gloss paint, and the brass doorknockers and letter boxes polished to a mirror shine every day of the week bar Sundays.
Lily stared at the house: four storeys up and one down. When they’d been with Mama she could remember that they’d had a whole house to themselves, but that had just been two rooms down and two up. This house looked as if it might contain twenty rooms – or even more if she knew what number came next.
‘It’s a very big house. Who else lives here?’ she asked Rose.
‘Who else? No one, just Mr and Mrs Unwin and Miss Charlotte. Oh, and the servants, of course. But they hardly count,’ she added.
‘All these floors and windows, just for them?’ Lily stood on tiptoe to see in the front parlour and took away a jumbled impression of plump sofas and chairs, lavish fabrics, patterned wallpaper and occasional tables on which objets d’art fought for space.
‘Yes, just for them. Now, round the back quickly!’ Rose said, for Lily had been about to go up the front steps. ‘Servants don’t use this entrance. Not ever.’
Lily had peered into the Unwins’ front parlour, not knowing that she’d seen a room at the very pinnacle of fashion: walls newly papered with Mr William Morris’s wallpaper, cluttered with armchairs, tables, stuffed birds in glass boxes and sideboards on which stood china elephants, cupids, depictions of Victoria and Albert, amusing items from abroad and glazed jardinières containing copious amounts of fernery. All rooms above stairs were furnished to this height of opulence, but as soon as one opened the door which led downwards, different standards prevailed, for the domestic offices were in a dark, stone-flagged space and the cooking appliances, sinks and fireplaces were horribly work intensive. There was no hot water, the sinks were of lead and, in order to be able to see what you were doing, candles had to be kept burning on the brightest of days. The vast kitchen range contained two coal grates, a bread and a pastry oven and several rings for pans, but the fires needed constant care: raddling, coaxing and feeding from before dawn to dusk and beyond if they were not to go out in the middle of preparations for a meal.
It was in the kitchen that Rose now introduced Lily to the other domestic staff: to Mrs Beaman the cook-housekeeper, Blossom and Lizzie the parlourmaids, and Ella the kitchen-maid.
The servants, as one, reacted to the newcomer with dismay and some amusement, gasping at her grimy feet, sniffing conspicuously when she wriggled out of her shawl and visibly shuddering when they saw the flea bites (gained after the overnight stay in the warehouse) on her arms. The only person a little pleased about Lily’s arrival