been. God is very good.’
‘You amaze me, Miss Pym. To my mind we have endured a day which would make most sober people doubt the existence of their Maker.’
‘But they have not been starved for adventure, as I,’ said Hannah.
They fell into a companionable silence. Lord Harley felt he knew why Sir George, a high stickler if ever there was one, had decided to take thehousekeeper to Gunter’s. There was something childlike about this Miss Pym, an innocence that was strangely endearing. He thought of Emily Freemantle and his face hardened. What a fool he had been to settle for an arranged marriage. It was not that he did not believe in love. Several of his friends had been fortunate to find it. But he himself never had and was sure now he never would. All he wanted was to settle down with some amiable female and bring up a family. But the next time, he would go about it all the time-honoured way and court and get to know the lady first.
He drained his coffee and thanked Hannah and stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then he exclaimed, ‘I forgot about Mr Fletcher’s bath, and there is no one to take it down.’
‘I shall help you,’ said Hannah.
And so it was. While Mr Fletcher slept curled up in the large bed, Hannah and Lord Harley, on Hannah’s instructions, opened the bedroom window, which was fortunately on the leeward side of the inn, and poured out jugs of dirty bath water into the snow. And then Lord Harley lugged the empty bath down to the kitchen, where he left it propped against the back door.
Hannah went to her own room, washed in now cold water, changed into a voluminous night-gown, tied her nightcap under her chin, and crept into bed beside Emily.
Lord Harley was right, she thought sleepily, there was no need to interfere. But Emily was so beautifuland he was so handsome and Emily’s parents would be overjoyed if they were to marry after all and that silly Miss Cudlipp would be confounded.
And, still making plans in her head, Hannah fell asleep.
4
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter,
Long ago.
Christina Rossetti
Hannah awoke at six o’clock, climbed out of bed and drew back the curtains. She could see nothing but a sort of raging white wilderness. She washed and dressed and then raked out the fire and lighted it. If Emily wanted hot water to wash herself, then she would need to fetch it from the kitchen. Hannah was sure none of the servants would be able to manage to get to work that day.
She went down to the kitchen. Mrs Silvers was sitting at the table wearing a night-gown, a wrapper, and a huge red nightcap. Her nose was red and her eyes watery.
‘Oh, Miss Pym,’ she said. ‘I do feel mortal bad.’
‘Then you must go to bed,’ said Hannah briskly. ‘Where is your husband?’
‘Out at the stables, rousing the post-boys. They sleeps over the stables.’
‘Good,’ said Hannah, relieved to find that there was some help. She looked around her. The soiled linen lay piled up in a basket in the corner, but the fire was blazing brightly. ‘Please do go to bed, Mrs Silvers,’ she urged, ‘or we shall all catch your cold. We can all make shift for ourselves.’ Her eyes gleamed green with excitement. ‘It is an adventure for me.’
Mrs Silvers went reluctantly and Hannah set to work, filling a huge copper with water from the scullery pump and hanging it on a hook over the fire. She found a bar of washing soap and began to shave flakes off it for the wash. There was a container of chicken dung in the scullery, so useful for whitening yellow linen, but Hannah did not think she could bear the smell of it so early in the day. After she had put the clothes on to boil, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, drank it and then ran up the stairs and roused Emily.
‘It is still darkness,’ moaned Emily. ‘What’s to do?’
‘The servants went home last night and are not able to return this day because of the ferocity of the storm.
‘You amaze me, Miss Pym. To my mind we have endured a day which would make most sober people doubt the existence of their Maker.’
‘But they have not been starved for adventure, as I,’ said Hannah.
They fell into a companionable silence. Lord Harley felt he knew why Sir George, a high stickler if ever there was one, had decided to take thehousekeeper to Gunter’s. There was something childlike about this Miss Pym, an innocence that was strangely endearing. He thought of Emily Freemantle and his face hardened. What a fool he had been to settle for an arranged marriage. It was not that he did not believe in love. Several of his friends had been fortunate to find it. But he himself never had and was sure now he never would. All he wanted was to settle down with some amiable female and bring up a family. But the next time, he would go about it all the time-honoured way and court and get to know the lady first.
He drained his coffee and thanked Hannah and stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then he exclaimed, ‘I forgot about Mr Fletcher’s bath, and there is no one to take it down.’
‘I shall help you,’ said Hannah.
And so it was. While Mr Fletcher slept curled up in the large bed, Hannah and Lord Harley, on Hannah’s instructions, opened the bedroom window, which was fortunately on the leeward side of the inn, and poured out jugs of dirty bath water into the snow. And then Lord Harley lugged the empty bath down to the kitchen, where he left it propped against the back door.
Hannah went to her own room, washed in now cold water, changed into a voluminous night-gown, tied her nightcap under her chin, and crept into bed beside Emily.
Lord Harley was right, she thought sleepily, there was no need to interfere. But Emily was so beautifuland he was so handsome and Emily’s parents would be overjoyed if they were to marry after all and that silly Miss Cudlipp would be confounded.
And, still making plans in her head, Hannah fell asleep.
4
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter,
Long ago.
Christina Rossetti
Hannah awoke at six o’clock, climbed out of bed and drew back the curtains. She could see nothing but a sort of raging white wilderness. She washed and dressed and then raked out the fire and lighted it. If Emily wanted hot water to wash herself, then she would need to fetch it from the kitchen. Hannah was sure none of the servants would be able to manage to get to work that day.
She went down to the kitchen. Mrs Silvers was sitting at the table wearing a night-gown, a wrapper, and a huge red nightcap. Her nose was red and her eyes watery.
‘Oh, Miss Pym,’ she said. ‘I do feel mortal bad.’
‘Then you must go to bed,’ said Hannah briskly. ‘Where is your husband?’
‘Out at the stables, rousing the post-boys. They sleeps over the stables.’
‘Good,’ said Hannah, relieved to find that there was some help. She looked around her. The soiled linen lay piled up in a basket in the corner, but the fire was blazing brightly. ‘Please do go to bed, Mrs Silvers,’ she urged, ‘or we shall all catch your cold. We can all make shift for ourselves.’ Her eyes gleamed green with excitement. ‘It is an adventure for me.’
Mrs Silvers went reluctantly and Hannah set to work, filling a huge copper with water from the scullery pump and hanging it on a hook over the fire. She found a bar of washing soap and began to shave flakes off it for the wash. There was a container of chicken dung in the scullery, so useful for whitening yellow linen, but Hannah did not think she could bear the smell of it so early in the day. After she had put the clothes on to boil, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, drank it and then ran up the stairs and roused Emily.
‘It is still darkness,’ moaned Emily. ‘What’s to do?’
‘The servants went home last night and are not able to return this day because of the ferocity of the storm.
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