Chapter 6 – Miss Mittens
They walked together in silence for a few moments before Miss Mittens spoke.
‘Fresh air, there’s nothing like it. I do some exercises in the fresh air every morning after I get up. Does me the world of good.’ She flung out her arms and stretched and breathed deeply. ‘Like this.’
‘Right,’ Etta murmured.
‘I understand that you are an orphan, Miss Ashcroft.’
‘Sort of,’ said Etta, twisting to look at the receding figure of Jen before turning back to her companion.
‘And forgive me for talking about on a delicate subject, you have recently come into a great deal of money?’
Etta was too astonished to speak.
‘I see that you think that I have overstepped the mark. Once again, please forgive my impertinence. Only, you’ve become a wealthy young woman without much protection in the world. I’m afraid that you will attract predators, fortune hunters; unscrupulous men who will want to take your money. You must be very careful whom you trust and don’t believe everything that is said to you. And don’t let anyone else make up your mind for you on what you want to do with your money and your life.’
‘I won’t,’ said Etta.
‘Independence is important. You’re a lucky young woman. I wish two things for every woman in the world; to be independent and to think for oneself.’ She sighed. ‘Sadly, it’s still a rarity.’
The rest of the party came towards them.
‘Hello, Miss Mittens. Finished with your maid? Fancy a walk round to the tennis courts and stables?’ Dorothy asked.
Etta couldn’t think of any objection so they all trooped off in the direction of the stables, including Miss Mittens.
Jen made sure that she was back in time for lunch in the servants’ hall. Many of the servants were already seated at the long pine table. She stood, not sure where to sit. Mr. Cook was at the head of the table, ‘John, move down two places please to allow for the new senior staff’. He beckoned to Jen. ‘Miss James, let me see, yes, I think you should sit … opposite Mr. Taylor.’
Jen obediently sank into a chair.
Another woman entered the room. Jen noticed she was not wearing a maid’s uniform but a sweater and skirt. She was tall, with blonde grey hair, put up in a bun, a narrow face with pointed chin and sharp blue eyes.
‘Ah, Miss Potter, could you sit next to Miss James, please?’ He pointed to Jen.
At last, Mr. Cook had everyone seated to his satisfaction and sat down himself. There were still some empty places so Jen wondered if these were staff late for lunch. Then Mr. Cook picked up and rang a little bell. Two of the maids and footmen came out from the kitchen entrance, bearing dishes with two huge meat pies and several bowls full of mashed potato, cabbage and peas and not one but four gravy boats. Jen recognised Lily among them and gave her a smile. Once every one had been served, and the young people had sat down on their chairs and helped themselves to lunch, Mr. Cook coughed, and bent his head. Everyone immediately stopped talking. Jen had just picked up her knife and fork but quickly laid them down again.
‘For what we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful. Amen,’ Mr. Cook intoned.
‘Amen,’ the rest of the servants dutifully repeated.
There was a clatter of cutlery on crockery as everyone attacked his or her plates. Jen tasted her lunch and discovered that it was a delicious steak and kidney pie, full of tender pieces of meat and melt in the mouth pastry. It reminded her of Sundays with her grandmother who loved baking.
Mr. Cook said, ‘Just to let you know, Mr. Taylor, Miss James and Miss Potter, we have both main course and pudding here in the servants’ hall at lunchtime. Lunch is necessarily a quick affair, as we have to serve the family’s’, here his voice dropped down in reverence before continuing, ‘lunch but the Senior Servants have our pudding and tea or coffee in the Steward’s Room at dinnertime. You are, of course, all invited.’ He nodded at them graciously.
Jen wanted to laugh and looked down at her plate. She thought she had it under control and looked up and round the table. She caught Fraser’s eye, which winked at her. She stared down, growing hot and shaking slightly with the effort not to giggle.
‘Are you all right, Miss James? Miss Potter asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Jen managed to reply.
She dared not look at Fraser again. Miss Potter was speaking to her.
‘Have you been in Miss Ashcroft’s, is it, service long?’
‘Yes, a very long time.’ Nothing but the truth. ‘Have you been with your employer long?’
Miss Potter sniffed. ‘Only a few months.’ Her tone managed to convey that it had been quite long enough.
‘Excuse me, Miss Potter, but isn’t your employer, the former Evangeline Carter, the film star?’ Mr. Taylor asked.
All the younger staff fell silent and looked at Miss Potter.
Miss Potter sniffed again. ‘I believe she was, yes.’
‘A film star at Wilkington Hall! Fancy that,’ said one of the young maids.
‘I can’t wait to tell my mum,’ Lily said eagerly.
Mr. Cook rapped his knife on his plate to gain their attention.
‘Do I need to remind everyone that guests at Wilkington Hall are entitled to their privacy. We don’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry loitering around the hall, hoping to get a glance of Mrs. Spinoza, making a nuisance of themselves.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said a voice. Jen identified it as Fraser’s. ‘She wasn’t that famous.’
Mr. Cook glared at Fraser; ‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Mr. Fraser.’
Fraser shrugged his shoulders, clearly unperturbed by Mr. Cook’s sharp words.
Dessert was rice pudding served with strawberry jam. Bang, goes my diet, thought Jen, if every meal is like this. She supposed that most of the servants would easily work it off with their manual labour. Then she thought of the flights of stairs up to the attic and decided that having dessert would not be a problem. She wondered what Etta would be having for lunch.
Etta was glad when lunchtime came. When the rest of the group re-joined Miss Mittens and her, she had been buttonholed by Cecil and had found it hard to get away from him.
Lunch was served in the dining room. Etta made sure that she was nowhere near Cecil while the seating was being arranged and found she seated between Dennis Mowbray and Stewart Grenadier. Over the first course of tomato soup, she said little and listened to the conversation around her.
Dennis was talking about the stock market.
‘You wouldn’t catch me risking my money on the stock market. It’s just a version of gambling. Slow and steady, that ‘s the way.’ Josephine Tyneham was on the other side of Dennis.
Dennis was clearly irritated. ‘If everyone thought like you, Great Aunt Josephine, there’d be a lot less millionaires in the world.’
‘There were a lot less millionaires in the world after the Wall Street Crash, I seem to recall,’ was her reply.
‘Speculate to accumulate, eh Spinoza?’
‘What?’ asked Lorenzo Spinoza, who was across the table from Dennis and who clearly hadn’t been listening. ‘Oh, sure.’
‘Lorenzo is a man who knows what he’s talking about. He’s a self-made man,’ Dennis told his great aunt and Etta.
Etta started trying to tune out this conversation and looked round the dining room. Dorothy was looking sulky, probably because Stewart was not seated near her. He was talking to Evangeline Spinoza and Algernon. Lady Stratton was chatting to Cecil and Sir James was deep in conversation with Miss Mittens. She was hoping that nobody would speak to her. She felt stiff with tension. She hated this sort of situation, where you were forced to talk to strangers and couldn’t get away.
The butler and two footmen came in to clear the soup dishes. Etta was proud of herself for realising that they were footmen by their striped black and yellow waistcoats.
‘What’s the next course, Mater?’ Cecil asked.
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‘Steak and kidney pie.’
‘Mother, you have no regard for my delicate constitution,’ Cecil said and put a hand on his stomach.
‘Nonsense,’ rumbled Sir James, scowling at Cecil. ‘Good, strengthening food. Mrs. Butler makes a damn, excuse my language, ladies, fine steak and kidney pie.’
Cecil scowled back at his father but didn’t reply.
Stewart turned to Etta, ‘do you like steak and kidney pie, Hetty?’
Etta didn’t recall giving him permission to call her Hetty but she didn’t want to challenge him in front of all these people. She hated him for putting her on the spot. She was not particularly fond of kidneys and hardly ever ate them. They hadn’t had any pies for ages because usually she and her mother were dieting.
‘I can’t say it’s my favourite dish but I’m sure it will be delicious,’ was her diplomatic answer.
He smirked at her.
‘Well, I love steak and kidney pie,’ Algernon announced, smiling at everyone.
The servants brought in the next course and there was merciful silence for a while nearly everyone tucked into their food. Cecil bent his head down and sniffed before ostentatiously playing around with it, pushing the pie from one side of the plate to the other.
‘Just leave it if you’re not going to eat it!’ ordered Sir James in tones of quiet fury.
Etta noticed that Evangeline Spinoza was also not eating her food although making far less fuss than Cecil. She forked a tiny piece of pie into her mouth, made a moue of disgust and put the fork down. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
‘Lady Mowbray!’ It was Lorenzo Spinoza, ‘say, my wife isn’t used to this fine English food, do you suppose your cook could rustle up a plain omelette for her?’
‘Of course,’ said Lady Mowbray smiling although her lips had thinned and her eyes didn’t smile at all. She beckoned Cook to her and whispered in his ear. He darted out of the room. Evangeline was now smiling.
‘Sorry to be such a nuisance,’ Lorenzo apologised but to Etta’s ears, he didn’t sound sorry at all.
Etta noticed that Cecil, despite his expressed disdain, had managed to eat most of the main course. Dessert was delayed until after Evangeline had eaten her omelette. It was Raspberry Pavlova and neither Evangeline nor Cecil objected to that.
Etta intended to run away to her room after lunch but before she could do so, Dennis asked, ‘anyone for tennis?’
There was enthusiastic support from Dorothy, Marjorie, Stewart and Algernon.
‘Heavens no,’ Cecil said and shuddered. ‘I gave up that sweaty business long ago.’
‘Do either of you fancy a game?’ Dennis asked Lorenzo and Evangeline. Evangeline simply shook her head and Lorenzo said, ‘never had time to learn how to play it so no, thanks.’
‘What about you, Hetty?’ Again, Etta couldn’t remember telling him to call her that.
‘I would,’ she said, ‘but unfortunately I don’t have a racket or the proper shoes or dress.’ They did wear tennis dresses in the thirties, didn’t they? Etta congratulated herself on getting out of it. She didn’t mind tennis but she hadn’t played for years.
‘Don’t worry about that. We’ve got plenty of spare rackets and I’m sure that Dorothy or Marjorie will be able to fix you up, won’t you girls?
Etta kicked herself for not saying she couldn’t play, which was probably the truth now.
‘Oh do let your food go down first, you’ll get terrible stitches otherwise,’ Lady Mowbray said.
‘Oh Mater.’
‘No, I insist, come and have a cup of tea in the drawing room first.’ She spoke to Lorenzo. ‘Don’t worry, Mr. Spinoza, I have arranged for coffee to be available as well.’
Score one for Lady Mowbray.
While seated in the drawing room, drinking her tea, Etta overheard Evangeline Spinoza talking to Lady Mowbray. That surprised her. She would have pegged the American as a woman who preferred the company of men.
‘I was wondering, Lady Mowbray, would you do me a huge, huge favour and let me wear your diamond necklace tonight?’
The room hushed.
‘Well, Lady Mowbray began doubtfully.
‘I’d really appreciate it, pretty please?’ Evangeline turned the full wattage of her blue eyes on Lady Mowbray and fluttered her eyelashes. ‘You can only fully appreciate a piece by wearing it for some time, don’t you agree?’
Lady Mowbray hesitated and then said, ‘very well. But you will take great care of it, won’t you?’
‘The very greatest care,’ Evangeline promised. She smiled triumphantly.
Sir James went red in the face; half started forward but then checked himself and said nothing.