Hope - Lesley Pearse [59]
‘It’s going to be miserable travelling all that way in this heat,’ Nell grumbled.
Hope laughed. ‘The train goes so fast it will be cool with the windows open. You’ll enjoy it, you know you will. It’s better to just sit there watching the world go by than rushing about at Briargate.’
‘You shouldn’t talk like that when you know Lady Harvey’s mother is dying,’ Nell said sharply.
Hope wanted to retort that Lady Harvey hadn’t shown much sympathy when their own mother died. But she didn’t say it; Nell had a blind spot where their mistress was concerned.
Hope kissed Nell goodbye in the kitchens, and clung to her a little more tightly than she usually did.
‘Who’s being a bit of a baby?’ Nell whispered fondly. ‘I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ Hope admitted, and bit back tears. Nell hadn’t been away with Lady Harvey once since their parents died, but now she was going, Hope was scared.
Nell smoothed a strand of hair back from Hope’s forehead and tucked it under her cap. ‘Have I ever told you what you mean to me?’ she asked in a whisper, very aware that Martha and Baines were standing nearby.
Hope shook her head.
‘Everything!’ Nell said. ‘You have done since I first held you as a baby. So you just mind you behave yourself. I don’t want to get back here and find you in disgrace.’
*
Once Lady Harvey had left for Sussex, Briargate seemed to slip into a kind of torpor.
With no more meals to prepare for the dining room, no fires to be lit, less cleaning, laundry and all the countless other tasks they were relieved of now neither the master nor the mistress was in residence, the servants could relax. Martha mentioned making some jam with the last of the black currants from the garden, but looked as if she was in no hurry to start. Even Baines settled down in the servants’ hall to read the newspaper.
Martha sent Hope down to the orchard later in the morning to pick some plums. Hope took her time, stopping at a small terrace just above the orchard to look around her and savour the beauty of the scene. All the fruit trees were laden – voluptuous purple plums, pale green pears and red shiny apples, all so perfect and luscious. Fat bumblebees buzzed lazily in the sunshine, a thrush was singing his heart out, and the air was laden with the smell of fruit and the lavender at her feet on the terrace.
Beyond the orchard down into the valley and up the other side great swathes of golden corn waved seductively in the light breeze. The harvest had begun; Hope could see silver flashes of sunshine on scythes as the men moved methodically across the fields. Matt would be among those men who looked no bigger than specks, maybe Joe and Henry too, and they would toil until the sun went down, praying that the good weather would last until it was all gathered in.
Hope ate a few of the plums as she filled her basket. They were warm and juicy, so sweet they made her almost delirious with pleasure, and she was glad she’d thought to put on the apron she wore for rough work as the juice ran down her chin in streams, staining it a deep, dark red.
She took her time going back to the house, stopping frequently to admire the many majestic old trees that had been planted when Briargate was built, and the new flowerbeds Albert had created in the last few years.
As she turned by a large horse chestnut, she saw him cutting the long grass around some bushes and she paused, suddenly struck by how handsome he looked with his face and forearms as brown and shiny as a conker, his thick black hair, well-proportioned nose and muscular but graceful body. Although she was usually afraid of him, here he didn’t look threatening for he was entirely at one with his surroundings, wielding his scythe with effortless precision.
‘The garden looks beautiful,’ she said nervously, expecting him to order her on her way. ‘That bed there is so bonny!’ She pointed towards one planted with tall white daisies and a purple starry flower she