The Victory Garden(61)

Emily hesitated, then took a deep breath before saying, “One thing, if I may. I don’t want the rest of the village to know about the baby and my situation. Not yet, at least.”

“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll just say that you’re a war widow, like so many others. Nobody will question it these days. What did you say your young man’s name was?”

“Flight Lieutenant Robert Kerr.”

“Then you are Mrs Kerr—the war widow. The truth shall remain between the two of us.”

Emily looked at Lady Charlton and felt tears coming to her eyes. She had never dared to hope that this remote and haughty old woman could be so kind. It felt like an answer to her prayers. “Thank you. You’re very understanding,” Emily said.

The door opened, and Mrs Trelawney came in with a tray bearing a silver coffee service. Emily wondered whether she had been listening outside and how much she had overheard.

“There wasn’t much of that gingerbread left,” she muttered as she put the tray down on a low table. “You ate the rest. So I brought some biscuits.”

“Then please bake some more,” Lady Charlton said testily. “You know how fond I am of it.”

“I’m not a magician, am I,” Mrs Trelawney said, equally testily. “We’re still on rations, you know. And they are out of black treacle at the village shop.”

She was about to make a grand exit when Lady Charlton called after her. “And please get Ethel to bring out some bedding for”—she paused—“Mrs Kerr. She has had the bad news that her husband has been killed in action.”

“She’ll be staying here?” Mrs Trelawney frowned.

“No, I’m going to be moving back into the cottage,” Emily said. “So I won’t be under your feet too much, Mrs Trelawney.”

Mrs Trelawney gave an audible sniff as she went out. They heard her yelling. “Ethel? Where are you? Someone needs to go up to the linen closet and I have the luncheon to prepare.”

Emily exchanged a grin with Lady Charlton. “I’m rather afraid Mrs Trelawney doesn’t welcome my presence.”

“Mrs Trelawney has grown extremely lazy with the years,” Lady Charlton said. “I keep her on because she has been with me since I moved into this house thirty years ago and because I wouldn’t want to start afresh with someone new.” She paused, then gave a throaty chuckle. “And because she doesn’t cost much.” Then her face became sombre again. “And she is quite devoted to me in a dog-like way.”

Emily sipped the coffee with relish. How long since she had drunk coffee from a bone china cup? She finished the cup reluctantly, and was about to make herself go and face the cottage when she remembered. “I think I have a way to ease the burden on Ethel and Mrs Trelawney,” she said. “Do you remember the young girl, Daisy, who worked in the garden with me? She is a trained housemaid, and she is willing to come and work for you. I don’t think she’ll need paying too much.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Oh yes. It was she who suggested it. She saw the house was in need of extra hands when we were here before. And she, too, has nowhere to go at the moment.”

“She’s not also in the family way?” Lady Charlton asked sharply.

Emily had to laugh. “No. She does not wish to return to the house where she was in service before. The master had wandering hands.”

“I see.” Lady Charlton nodded. “Well, you are full of surprises, Miss Bryce—or I should say Mrs Kerr. Of course I accept her kind offer. And I am sure Ethel will be more than grateful. Mrs Trelawney, too, only don’t expect her to show it.”

“Then I’ll go and tell her now, once I’ve taken the bedding down to the cottage.” Emily stood up to go, then held out her hand to the old lady. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“It’s purely selfish on my part,” the old woman said. “I enjoy your company. I’m tired of living on my own.”

As Emily went through to the servants’ quarters, Ethel appeared, her arms piled high with sheets and blankets. “Here you go, miss,” she said. “Although why you’d want to live in that cottage is beyond me. They say it’s haunted.”

“Cursed, that’s what it is.” Mrs Trelawney appeared from the kitchen. “Bad things have happened to every woman who’s lived there. Two murders, one woman hanged. So either the cottage is cursed or the women are cursed who come to live there. I’m not sure which.” And she gave a malevolent little smile.

As Emily carried her pile of bedding down the hill, buffeted by the wind, she met Simpson, coming towards her with firewood in his arms.

“Well, little missy, what are you doing here again?” he asked.

“I’m coming to live in the cottage for a while, Simpson,” Emily said. “I’m glad I bumped into you. When you have time, can you stock me up with coal or wood or whatever I need to keep the fire and the stove going?”

“Coming to live in the cottage? Well I never! Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes—for now, anyway. I’m going to keep working on the garden and also help Lady Charlton catalogue her husband’s treasures.”

“She’ll be pleased about that, I don’t doubt,” he said, nodding with satisfaction, as if he, too, was pleased. “She became quite fond of you in that short while, and that’s not like her. Usually, she doesn’t take to people—quite snooty and standoffish, she’s been, especially since her husband, son and grandson died. So you’re bringing her out of her shell.” He smiled. “I’ll bring you both coal and wood, my dearie. It will be more wood than coal these days, what with the rationing and all. There are always plenty of downed branches on the estate, if I have the energy to cut them up. And I don’t suppose you’ve had much experience in getting fires going, have you?”