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Authors: Anne Brear
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Belfroy’s employment. He was a good coachman was my Jim.”
Nicola nodded and let her talk if it helped her. She felt for a pulse on Jim Eldersley’s neck. Nothing. The man was dead.
* * *
The tick-tock of the clock on the mantelshelf sounded loud in the quiet room. The logs in the grate shifted, sending golden sparks up the chimney. Outside, the day had turned bitterly cold, but had remained dry for the burial of Jim Eldersley. Nicola gazed around at the seated black-clothed people, Mr Belfroy, Dr Armitage, a neighbour or two and the women lodgers. All held teacups and saucers, and once more Emily went around with the teapot and refilled their cups. If anyone talked it was in muted whispers, as though anything loud would shatter the silent reserve of the dear woman sitting in the chair by the fireplace.
Sighing, Nicola pushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and then rubbed the strain from her neck. The last three days had been testing.
For some reason the whole household had looked to her. Somehow, they’d all decided she would be in charge. Without thought, she’d taken the reins of organising the funeral and running the lodging house, but doing so had meant little time for herself, and little time to look for work. Mrs Eldersley, shocked and grieving, had taken to her room and stayed there until this morning, when Meg and Emily had washed and dressed her and led her out to Mr Belfroy’s carriage.
Despite the tragic circumstances, she had enjoyed the position of leader. Her father told her many times in the school room she had a natural talent for leadership. Maybe she should take the teacher’s certificate and become a teacher in a school instead of a governess.
Picking up the tea tray and with a brief smile at Meg, Nicola walked into the hallway. A knock at the front door halted her.
Meg came alongside. “Here, give me the tray and you answer the door.”
“Where’s the new maid?” Nicola whispered, glancing towards the green painted door that led to the kitchen.
“She didn’t show up, the lazy baggage.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had enough to deal with. Emily and I made the tea and sandwiches. Miss Burstall even spent some of her money and bought that bottle of ginger ale and a neighbour bought the cake.”
After handing the tray over, she stepped to the door as the knock came again. “You should have told me this morning,” she whispered.
“And give you more to worry about. Besides, Mrs Eldersley needed you.” Meg smiled and headed for the kitchen.
Nicola opened the door and a blast of cold air washed over her.
Frances stood on the step with her arms folded. “Don’t those lot in there know how to open a door when someone is knocking? And why are you answering it? Isn’t there a maid?”
“I’m sorry, Fran.” Nicola blinked at the onslaught, her friend was not one for holding back she’d discovered.
“So, where have you been hiding? Why haven’t you attended the rallies or the soup kitchen? Are you sick?” She peered closer. “You don’t look it.”
“No, I’m not sick.” Nicola stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her for Frances’s voice was become louder with every sentence. “I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.”
“Stop saying sorry.” Frances snorted and raised her eyebrows at the closed door. “Can’t I come in? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? I’ll not be changing my ways just to please some snotty gaggle of governesses, Nicola Douglas and you can tell them that from me!”
“Shush, Fran, please.” Nicola glanced back at the house. “There’s a funeral wake inside. We buried Mr Eldersley this morning. That’s why I haven’t been to see you.”
Frances’s shoulders slumped and she gripped Nicola’s hands, her expression one of apology. “Lord, why didn’t you shut me up?”
“I couldn’t get a word in, could I?” Nicola grinned.
“You should have sent me a note. I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m
Nicola nodded and let her talk if it helped her. She felt for a pulse on Jim Eldersley’s neck. Nothing. The man was dead.
* * *
The tick-tock of the clock on the mantelshelf sounded loud in the quiet room. The logs in the grate shifted, sending golden sparks up the chimney. Outside, the day had turned bitterly cold, but had remained dry for the burial of Jim Eldersley. Nicola gazed around at the seated black-clothed people, Mr Belfroy, Dr Armitage, a neighbour or two and the women lodgers. All held teacups and saucers, and once more Emily went around with the teapot and refilled their cups. If anyone talked it was in muted whispers, as though anything loud would shatter the silent reserve of the dear woman sitting in the chair by the fireplace.
Sighing, Nicola pushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and then rubbed the strain from her neck. The last three days had been testing.
For some reason the whole household had looked to her. Somehow, they’d all decided she would be in charge. Without thought, she’d taken the reins of organising the funeral and running the lodging house, but doing so had meant little time for herself, and little time to look for work. Mrs Eldersley, shocked and grieving, had taken to her room and stayed there until this morning, when Meg and Emily had washed and dressed her and led her out to Mr Belfroy’s carriage.
Despite the tragic circumstances, she had enjoyed the position of leader. Her father told her many times in the school room she had a natural talent for leadership. Maybe she should take the teacher’s certificate and become a teacher in a school instead of a governess.
Picking up the tea tray and with a brief smile at Meg, Nicola walked into the hallway. A knock at the front door halted her.
Meg came alongside. “Here, give me the tray and you answer the door.”
“Where’s the new maid?” Nicola whispered, glancing towards the green painted door that led to the kitchen.
“She didn’t show up, the lazy baggage.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had enough to deal with. Emily and I made the tea and sandwiches. Miss Burstall even spent some of her money and bought that bottle of ginger ale and a neighbour bought the cake.”
After handing the tray over, she stepped to the door as the knock came again. “You should have told me this morning,” she whispered.
“And give you more to worry about. Besides, Mrs Eldersley needed you.” Meg smiled and headed for the kitchen.
Nicola opened the door and a blast of cold air washed over her.
Frances stood on the step with her arms folded. “Don’t those lot in there know how to open a door when someone is knocking? And why are you answering it? Isn’t there a maid?”
“I’m sorry, Fran.” Nicola blinked at the onslaught, her friend was not one for holding back she’d discovered.
“So, where have you been hiding? Why haven’t you attended the rallies or the soup kitchen? Are you sick?” She peered closer. “You don’t look it.”
“No, I’m not sick.” Nicola stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her for Frances’s voice was become louder with every sentence. “I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.”
“Stop saying sorry.” Frances snorted and raised her eyebrows at the closed door. “Can’t I come in? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? I’ll not be changing my ways just to please some snotty gaggle of governesses, Nicola Douglas and you can tell them that from me!”
“Shush, Fran, please.” Nicola glanced back at the house. “There’s a funeral wake inside. We buried Mr Eldersley this morning. That’s why I haven’t been to see you.”
Frances’s shoulders slumped and she gripped Nicola’s hands, her expression one of apology. “Lord, why didn’t you shut me up?”
“I couldn’t get a word in, could I?” Nicola grinned.
“You should have sent me a note. I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m
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