- -
- 100%
- +
Esther had been with her mistress ever since, travelling with her when she was a young girl and staying with her once she married – for fifty years, to be precise.
How time flies, Esther thought, with a small shock, remembering she was now sixty-two years old. Philip was four years older, almost sixty-six. Not that he looked it, and neither did she. But then they had been protected and well fed living with the Montagues, who appreciated their loyalty, honesty and devotion, and all the hard work they put in. As long as his ankle healed well, they would continue to serve. She rubbed her left hand absent-mindedly, where a niggling arthritis made it ache.
Over the years, Esther had risen in the ranks to become the head housekeeper at Lady Agatha’s two homes – the John Nash-designed Regency house in London and the old country estate in Kent, Fountains Court.
Esther and Philip had met at the London house when Lady Agatha married the Honourable Arthur Blane Montague, who owned both of their homes. Philip, a Kentish man, had also gone into service when he was young, just sixteen. Having started out as a junior footman at Fountain Court, he was now head butler and devoted to the Honourable Mister, as he referred to Mr Montague.
Like his wife, Philip had remained with his original employer and was highly valued.
Just imagine, Esther thought, glancing around her parlour, I was married from this house and I am still here. She smiled as she looked at the small photograph of her husband with their sons and grandchildren and remembered the boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago.
We met, looked at each other and just clicked. Lucky. Indeed, I was. And so was he, she thought.
Pushing back her chair, Esther got up and went out into the corridor, walked down to the kitchen, pushed open the door. ‘I’m going upstairs now, Cook, since we’ve settled everything about supper tonight.’
‘It’s all in hand, Mrs Falconer,’ Cook answered, and gave her a huge smile. ‘I’m looking forward to cooking a few of your family’s favourite dishes.’
Esther smiled back and retreated. She climbed the back staircase and crossed the hall, discovered Philip and their grandson sitting together in the conservatory, which opened onto the garden at the back of the house.
‘There you are!’ she exclaimed, hurrying across the room. ‘Nattering away like two old codgers.’
‘I am an old codger,’ Philip said with an amused laugh.
‘That’s not so!’ his wife answered, and went and sat next to James on the sofa.
‘I’m so happy we can have our Saturday supper here downstairs in the servants’ dining room, instead of at your house. Easier for your grandfather.’
James nodded, glanced at Philip. ‘It was nice of the Honourable Mister to let us all come here, wasn’t it?’
‘Indeed it was, James,’ Philip replied, and looked down at his left leg encased in plaster of Paris, stretched out and resting on an ottoman. ‘He sent a telegram from Monte Carlo immediately after he received mine. He insisted that you all join us here for our traditional supper. Even told me to choose one of his wines.’
‘Wonderful things, these telegrams,’ Esther observed. ‘I can’t imagine how we ever managed without them. The Honourable Mister also insisted your grandfather rest in here as well, to benefit from some light and warmth. Anyway, James, I’m relieved to see you looking well. Your father told me you are working long hours.’ She gave him a hard stare.
‘Yes, I am, Grans, but I’m in fine fettle at the moment. And Mr Malvern is such a nice man to work for. We’ve been doing some reorganization of the whole company, and he’s appreciated my help. He says he couldn’t have done it without me.’
‘James, whatever happened to Mr Malvern’s daughter? Is she not working alongside her father and you?’ Philip asked.
James shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ He looked from his grandfather to his grandmother, and continued in a solemn voice, ‘It’s rather a sad story, really. Miss Alexis doesn’t seem to have recovered from the death of her fiancé. Just a week before they were to be married. She lives in Kent and hardly ever comes to Malvern House.’
Esther frowned, said in a low voice, ‘I seem to remember you talking about her. She was a first-class businesswoman, one of only a few in London.’ Esther paused and shook her head. ‘Isn’t she his only child? Mr Malvern’s heir?’ she asked, puzzlement echoing in her voice.
‘That’s correct, Grans. But she doesn’t seem to be interested in the business. Or anyone. Not even her father. It’s a shame. So sad to see the pain he’s in. He’s heartbroken, in my opinion.’
Esther leaned back, shaking her head again, looking nonplussed.
It was Philip who now spoke up. He glanced at James, a brow lifting quizzically. ‘Is she physically ill in some way?’
‘Not that I know of,’ James answered, his forehead puckering. ‘What are you getting at, Grandfather?’
‘It sounds to me as if Miss Malvern is mentally disturbed. How long has she been acting this way?’
‘It’s over a year since Sebastian Trevalian died.’
There were a few moments of silence. Glances were exchanged. It was Esther who spoke first. ‘It seems to me that she can’t let him go, that she’s hanging onto his memory. Very sad. I’m sure the sudden loss of the man she was about to marry was a shock. It would leave a terrible sorrow. However, to avoid society for so long appears abnormal, in my opinion. The way she is behaving is odd, to say the least.’
‘She went to see a famous doctor in Vienna,’ James volunteered. ‘His name is Doctor Sigmund Freud. Seemingly he examines the mind, not the body.’
Philip suddenly was sitting up straighter and nodding his head vehemently. ‘I’ve read about him! In one of Lady Agatha’s science magazines. He is called a mind doctor. The patient talks to him, and he does an analysis of the things the patient says. I’m not quite sure how he cures the patient, though. But he is becoming famous.’
‘She was treated by him for six months,’ James confided. ‘That is why Mr Malvern offered me a job as his … assistant, I suppose you’d call me. Miss Malvern had gone to Vienna.’
‘I remember it now,’ Esther exclaimed. ‘Your father told me the story.’ Esther looked off into the distance, as if she could see something far away. After a moment or two, she said, ‘So what is going to happen, James? Is she ever coming back?’
‘I’ve no idea. To be honest, I don’t think Mr Malvern knows either.’
‘But what is he going to do without an heir?’ Philip asked.
Esther stared at Philip. ‘Poor man. And whatever will he do with Malvern’s?’
James said quietly, ‘He has spoken to me about selling the company, once we’ve got it back into the best shape we can. We’re working on that.’
‘Do you think he would sell that old family company?’ Philip asked.
James did not answer at first. A moment later, he said slowly, but in a firm tone, ‘Yes, I do think he would, if the price is right.’
THREE
Esther was delighted when she opened the door and saw the rest of the Falconer family all together, standing on the step at the back.
‘Come in, come in!’ she exclaimed, pulling the door further ajar, a huge smile spreading across her face.
Once they were in the narrow lobby and the door was shut, there were hugs and kisses and greetings exchanged. She couldn’t help thinking how smart her three sons looked, dressed in their best clothes.
Matthew’s wife, Maude, was elegant in a simple cream linen dress which fell to her ankles, decorated with a black cotton rose on her shoulder.
Her granddaughter, Rossi, was likewise decked out in a summer frock, made of pale-blue crepe de Chine. Rossi’s younger brother, Eddie, wore his one and only best suit.
‘Let’s go and see Dad, shall we?’ Matthew announced, taking charge.
‘Yes, come along,’ Esther answered, smiling at her firstborn child. ‘He’s with James up in the conservatory.’
They clustered around Philip in his chair, fussing about him, making him feel well loved.
It was Eddie who pushed his way to the front, and said, ‘I’ve brought a painting for you, Grandpa.’ He handed him the package, and turned to Esther. ‘And one for you too, Grandma.’
He stood and watched as his grandparents opened their gifts and praised his artistic talent; Matthew and Maude smiled with pride at their younger son.
Rossi had also brought gifts for her grandparents. ‘A scarf for each of you.’ She then explained, ‘Silk summer scarves, because sometimes it does get cool in the evening.’
Esther and Philip gave more thanks and complimented their granddaughter. Then Esther turned to Matthew, Harry and George and said, ‘Would you three come downstairs with me to the kitchen, please? Rossi and Maude can entertain Dad for the moment, and you can chat with him shortly. Will you come as well, James?’
The men nodded and followed Esther out of the room. Once they were in the hall, George asked, ‘Is there a problem, Ma?’ Concern echoed in his voice.
‘No, no,’ Esther answered swiftly. ‘Let’s go downstairs so that I can explain something to the three of you.’
Harry said, ‘I’d love to see the kitchen, Mother. I haven’t been in it for ages. And say hello to Cook.’
Esther led them down the back staircase and, once at the bottom, she turned to the others. ‘Look at these stairs, tell me if you think a man with a cast on his leg can come down and go up easily, even with your help.’
‘I don’t believe he can,’ Harry said immediately, then looked at his brothers. ‘What do you think, George, Matthew?’
George shook his head. ‘You’re right. It would be a difficult task, even with each of us holding him on either side. The staircase is steep and narrow, with a turn in it.’
James exclaimed, ‘But Grandpa thinks we’re having supper in the servants’ dining hall. Won’t he be upset if we don’t?’
‘Perhaps,’ Esther replied. ‘However, I don’t think we can let him anywhere near this staircase. In fact, I have already had the table set in the breakfast room. It’s quite large, and we’ll easily fit around the table.’
‘He’s not going to be happy about that,’ Harry announced, staring at his mother. ‘You know he’s had those rules of his for donkey’s years. Staff do not use the family’s living quarters when they are absent. Dad calls it trespassing.’
‘I know that only too well. He only agreed to sit in the conservatory because the Honourable Mister instructed him to. But thank goodness for telegrams. I sent one to Lady Agatha in Monte Carlo, explaining the problem. Her reply was simple. She agreed with my suggestion about the breakfast room.’
‘It’s a good thing you did that, Mother.’ Matthew rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Once he’s read Lady Agatha’s telegram to you, I doubt there will be any problem.’
‘I just wanted you to know this, because I need you to back me up, if that’s necessary.’
‘Absolutely, Grans,’ James answered at once. Her sons assured her they too were on her side, and that there was no good argument to be otherwise. Their father could not navigate this staircase with a plaster cast up to his knee, even with their help.
‘But how will you manage the stairs to your flat?’ Matthew asked his mother.
‘That’s less of a problem – we can use the main staircase for now, while the family is away. And he does his paperwork in the conservatory.’
Esther thanked them, then added, ‘Let’s go to the kitchen with Harry. He’s dying to see it and talk to Cook for a few minutes.’
They received a cheery welcome from Mrs Holmes, who had been the cook for the Montagues for twenty years. She then said to Harry, ‘I must congratulate you. I’ve heard all about your new restaurant and I’m happy it has taken off so well.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Holmes.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’m glad you don’t mind that I’ve pinched some of your recipes.’
Cook laughed. ‘I enjoyed it when you slipped in to watch me doing my job when you were younger.’
‘I’ve told them about eating in the breakfast room,’ Esther now said, wanting to move on. ‘And they will back me up.’
Cook nodded. ‘It’s a dangerous staircase for Mr Falconer to use. The breakfast room presents no problems, and the food goes up on the dumbwaiter as it does every day when the family is in residence.’
They stood talking to Mrs Holmes about the supper and Harry asked her permission to look at her beautiful copper pots, pans and moulds, admiring them as he did.
After leaving the kitchen, Esther took her sons and grandson to the breakfast room. They agreed that it was ideal for the family supper. The gas lamps were already glowing. The table looked inviting, with a bowl of fresh flowers in the centre.
When they returned to the conservatory, Rossi wanted to know where they had been and what they had been doing. ‘Uncle Harry needed to check the menu, no doubt,’ she said to her mother, grinning.
‘Not really,’ Harry answered. ‘Mrs Holmes is a great cook, as we all know. She has made some lovely dishes for tonight … favourites.’
‘I wanted to show the boys the back staircase,’ Esther cut in swiftly, needing to get the problem out of the way. ‘They agree with me it’s very steep.’ She stared at her husband and said to him, ‘We are having the supper in the breakfast room, which is on this floor—’
‘No, no, we can’t do that, you know the rules,’ Philip interrupted.
‘Yes, we can. I sent a telegram to Lady Agatha.’ Before he could object further, Esther took the telegram out of her skirt pocket and handed it to him.
Philip read it in silence and gave her a faint smile. ‘You win,’ he acknowledged. ‘And you’re right, actually. That staircase would be a problem for me in this plaster cast.’
Esther always enjoyed the Saturday night suppers and, on this particular evening, the gathering of their little clan over a meal was no exception.
As her eyes swept around the circular table in the breakfast room, she saw that everyone was enjoying themselves, and this pleased her.
She looked at her three sons, studying them one by one by one. They were rather handsome in their different ways, and certainly they were well put-together. All three were neat and tidy in their dark ready-made suits, with their discreet silk ties – gifts from her, in fact. Each of them wore a floppy silk handkerchief in the top pocket of their jackets as a finishing touch. There was a flutter of pride behind her smile.
They had done well in their chosen jobs, and because she and Philip had brought them up with high standards, they were decent men, honourable, loyal and full of integrity.
Oddly, they had been rather mischievous, sometimes even naughty boys. They had had their differences, which led to quarrels and rows, occasional fist-fights, as well as heated verbal battles. Their father and she had taught them to sort things out fairly and quietly, not at high voltage. Eventually they had learned to do this.
When they were still quite young, Esther had invented the Saturday night supper, a special meal where they were expected to be on their best behaviour. They enjoyed the delicious meals she concocted and made. It became a ritual the boys loved.
If they had misbehaved earlier in the week, they were banned. This rule brought them up short most of the time. It ensured a better attitude on their parts. None of them wanted to be excluded from the Saturday night get-together. It was a very special treat.
Her gaze settled on Maude, her daughter-in-law, wife to Matthew, mother of James, Rossi and Eddie. She and Philip loved this gentle and caring woman who had created a happy home for her husband and children. Very slender, more so than ever after a bad bout of flu some years before, Maude’s burnished brown hair was shot through with fine threads of silver now, but her deep brown eyes were as expressive as ever and her face as loving.
She welcomed the extra money earned from her clever sewing and had a kind word for everyone. We were lucky yet again, Esther thought, when Maude came strolling into Matthew’s life. She’s added so much love to the family.
If only Harry and George could find lovely women like her. Esther’s spirits dropped slightly when she thought of her two bachelor sons now sitting opposite her. It was her great hope this would soon happen, before they got too set in their ways. She didn’t want them to be lonely, especially in their old age.
It will happen, she decided, and when they least expect it. Some young woman from somewhere will appear, and perhaps they’ll fall in love. She sighed under her breath and pulled herself out of her reverie.
Now Kitty, the senior housemaid, was coming in with a tray which held three soufflés, followed by her two juniors, Fanny and Maureen, also carrying trays of soufflés.
‘Thank you, Kitty,’ Esther said, smiling at her and the other girls. ‘They look wonderful.’
‘Yes, they do indeed,’ Philip added, and the rest of the family nodded in agreement.
‘My mouth is really watering,’ Harry said, wondering what Cook’s secret was. The soufflés had not dropped, were still beautifully risen, even though they had been carried upstairs. Perhaps that was it. They had not been sent up in the dumbwaiter. Rushed up, no doubt, by the maids. Only in a very smart house like this with a cook as talented as Mrs Holmes would they taste something as fancy as a soufflé, and many complimentary comments were made as they ate them. When the roast beef arrived, served with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts, the men broke into quiet cheers.
Esther laughed. ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ she said, looking at her three boys. ‘You all asked if we could have a Sunday lunch on a Saturday night. Cook has obliged.’
FOUR
Alexis Malvern stood on the rise that looked down towards Romney Marsh. It was still shrouded in mist, images blurred, indistinct, but when she lifted her eyes and looked beyond, she saw the sea, and further still the faint outline of the French coast. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she recalled how Sebastian had liked to stand here at dusk, pointing out the lights of a foreign land just across the English Channel. This view at twilight had always delighted him.
For days Kent had been cloudy and wet, and Goldenhurst drenched, muddy underfoot in some areas, the last of the late-blooming flowers wilted and limp. Much of the gardens had suffered and been destroyed by the almost constant rainfall. Now, on this Friday afternoon in the first week of October, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the colour of their bluebells in May, and a light breeze brought freshness to the air.
Turning, she walked across to the corner of the gardens where she and Sebastian had liked to sit in the arbour nestled there. In summer, masses of blue flowers filled this part of the gardens, and invariably she would silently thank Magdalena Ellis, the talented gardener, who had helped Sebastian to create this oasis of natural beauty.
Leaning back against the bench, she closed her eyes, her grief rising up again. He should have been here with her now, as her husband of one year. Perhaps a baby too. The anniversary of his death had brought it all back again, stronger than ever. Her fiancé had been older than her, with grown-up children of his own, but he had been in the prime of his life and no one had expected pneumonia to kill him.
Shaking her head, she attempted to turn her mind to her imminent guests. She couldn’t help wondering if it had been a mistake to invite Jane and Reggie to come for the weekend. There was no doubt in her mind that Jane would start lecturing her once again about why she was living down here in Kent. Or she would start wondering aloud if Alexis was ill and should revisit Doctor Freud in Vienna, asking if Alexis could be heading for another breakdown, perhaps?
A little shiver ran through Alexis at this thought, and she sat up with a jerk, glanced around, blinking.
I’ll have to keep them really busy, she decided, as she slumped back, forcing herself to relax. Two days ago she had written a note to Sebastian’s eldest daughter Claudia, with an invitation for her and her husband to come for the weekend, dispatching Gates, the new driver, to deliver it. He had returned with an acceptance, much to her relief.
At the thought of her friend, Alexis experienced a sudden lifting of her heart, a lightness of spirit that she rarely enjoyed these days. But then Claudia always brought happiness with her and a special kind of love, like that of an adoring sister. And in her lovely face, Alexis saw Sebastian and felt he was with them, which calmed her. Claudia had been the person who had introduced them and she shared in Alexis’s grief for the dynamic man who had died too young.
‘So Reggie’s coming tomorrow afternoon, is that it?’ Alexis asked, pouring more tea in Lady Jane’s cup.
‘That is correct, my dear. He does apologize, most profusely. However, he must see this American fellow, who owns the largest newspaper in New York City. It’s important to Reggie. You know how men are when it comes to business.’
‘I do, yes. And how are your girls? I suppose they must be in Italy by now? Claudia is arriving tomorrow, by the way.’
‘That’s nice. I haven’t seen her for ages. Yes, Jasmine and Lilah are very much enjoying Florence and its treasures. My sister was so keen to take them once the Season finished.’ There was a pause while Lady Jane took a sip of her tea, then asked in a gentle voice, ‘And how is your father? Is he feeling better?’
There was a moment of silence before Alexis answered. ‘Yes, he is. I think he has come to grips with his sorrow about Uncle Joshua dying. And shaken off that fatigue that brought him low. Although he’s still somewhat angry about that awful betrayal by his cousin. However, my father is a practical man and accepts that life can be difficult.’
‘Might we be seeing you in London soon?’ Jane murmured, eyeing her friend carefully. ‘Your father misses you, darling.’
Alexis laughed, shook her head. ‘He’s fine, and he doesn’t miss me at all. He has Jimmy boy to keep him company.’
Staring at her, puzzlement apparent in her eyes, Lady Jane asked, ‘Who on earth is this Jimmy boy … and why do you call him that?’
‘Because that’s the way I think of him. He’s a poor boy my father has always admired … he worked on his father’s stalls at the Malvern Market in Camden, but has always had dreams of … glory, shall we say? Matthew, his father, has forever pushed Jimmy at my father, often suggested that Papa might one day give him a job in the Malvern Company. And naturally my father did just that … during the time I was in Vienna, actually.’
Taken aback, Lady Jane gaped at her, speechless for a moment. Finally she said softly, ‘Doesn’t it trouble you that this Jimmy fellow is there in London, working alongside your father, and you, the heir, are still out here in the depths of Kent?’ Jane had wanted to say doing nothing, but she did not dare.
‘Not really. I think Jimmy boy is a real opportunist, and in a hurry to rush up the ladder. But he’ll only get so far. After all, Jane, it is my company.’
Lady Jane wanted to say: But would she be able to run it, since she lacked experience? But Jane put that question to one side for later. Instead she asked in a neutral voice, ‘So, tell me about Jimmy boy, Alexis. I’m curious that your father is so taken with him. And what’s his real name?’
‘James Falconer, and I admit he’s talented, even clever. I met him when I went to Paris to help my father deal with the wine problem. But I find him bossy and arrogant. And very conceited.’
‘Conceited? So he must be a handsome chap … is he, Alexis?’ Lady Jane probed.
‘Not particularly,’ Alexis said, and changed the subject abruptly.
Lady Jane stood in the sitting room of her suite, staring out of the window. The view of the gardens was extraordinary, although she was not really seeing it. Her mind was caught up in the conversation she had just had with Alexis over afternoon tea.