Hope - Lesley Pearse [44]
Her mother had always said she’d better learn quickly that gentry didn’t want their children mixing with common folk, but Hope didn’t see herself as that. She had, after all, been brought up with the story that she was a fairy child, and to her that meant she was destined for better things. While for now she knew she had to keep her place and do whatever she was ordered to do, she comforted herself with the thought that one day she’d be her own mistress.
Baines was very fond of saying that there were few opportunities for girls other than going into service, but then he’d been a servant since he was twelve, so what did he know of the real world? Cook would smile knowingly whenever Hope spoke of wanting to do some other kind of work; she seemed to think marriage was a far better option. But any romantic notions Hope might once have held about marriage had been killed off by observing Nell and Albert. To her, being in service or marriage amounted to much the same thing, a lifetime of drudgery. She wanted something better for herself.
Hope was cleaning some silver in the scullery in the early afternoon when she heard Rose come into the kitchen.
‘Captain Pettigrew’s come a-calling again,’ she said importantly to Cook. ‘Funny he always comes when the master is away!’
‘Rose!’ Cook exclaimed. ‘You shouldn’t say such things. If Mr Baines was to hear you!’
Hope was out of sight of the two older women but well within hearing distance. She had to hope Baines wasn’t too, because Cook was right. Hardly a week passed without him reminding them all that they should not repeat anything they heard or saw their master and mistress doing.
Baines was tall and whip-thin, and in his grey striped trousers, tailed coat and stiff wing-collar, with spectacles perched precariously on the end of his overlong nose, he put Hope in mind of a heron.
He had the sharp eyes, grace and patience of the heron too. He missed nothing, not a smear on a knife or a napkin not properly ironed, and he expected all the servants to maintain the high standards he set so much store by. But for all that he was a kindly, fair man, and he seemed to have the answer to any question and the solution to any problem. Cook always said he was the first butler she’d ever worked under who wasn’t an arse-wipe.
Cook also said that when Rose first came to Briargate, she had set her cap at Baines and been very disappointed when he didn’t respond. Now in her late thirties, a plain, angular woman who knew she was destined to remain a spinster, she was over-fond of poking her nose into other people’s affairs, be that her master and mistress’s or the other servants’.
‘The Captain’s charming, I grant him that,’ Rose went on, seemingly not put off by Cook’s warning. ‘Devilish handsome too! Nell got all in a fluster when she saw him.’
Hope’s antennae became finely tuned at Nell’s name, and although she continued polishing the candlestick in her hand, she slowed down so she wouldn’t miss anything.
‘I’d get in a fluster over a charming man too if I was married to Albert,’ Cook retorted and chuckled.
Hope smiled; she was always glad when one of the servants admitted they didn’t like Albert. They were discreet in front of Nell, but away from her they agreed he was pompous, self-righteous and entirely lacking a sense of humour. Hope could easily have added half a dozen more bad traits, but for Nell’s sake she kept those to herself. She had never admitted to anyone, not even James and Ruth, how bad it was living with him.
‘I don’t mean that I think Nell’s sweet on him,’ Rose said quickly. ‘It’s more like she saw Old Nick come through the door. Is she afraid for the mistress? Or has the Captain done something to her?’
‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep