Suki, p.2
Suki, page 2
Sir George decided to brazen it out. ‘It’s come to something,’ he said, ‘when a man can’t give a pretty girl a kiss without being cut to the quick.’
‘Fought back eh?’
‘Went lunatic, damme.’
‘Which one was it?’ his wife said. ‘Just tell me her name, my love, and she shall be dismissed instantly.’
‘How should I know which one it was?’ her husband said tetchily. ‘Little thing with dark eyes. Brought up the water, I believe. How was I to know she was lunatic? You should be more careful whom you hire.’
‘’Tis of no consequence,’ Lady Bradbury said, and her smile was terrible. ‘Now that I know the cause of the trouble, you may be sure I shall deal with it immediately.’
The cause of the trouble was sitting beside the kitchen range with most of the other servants gathered round her and Bessie, the youngest scullery maid, crouched at her feet, chafing her hands. It seemed foolish when she’d been so strong and determined during the attack that she should be trembling now that it was all over. But she’d given a good account of herself above stairs and now she was giving an equally good account below them. ‘I hit him straight round the lugs,’ she told her admiring audience. ‘You should of seen his face!’
‘He’s bleedin’ prodigious,’ one of the kitchen maids confirmed as she cracked six eggs into a bowl. ‘Great gobbets a’ blood everywhere.’
‘Which you shouldn’t have been there to see,’ Cook reproved.
‘Serve him right,’ the second maid said, beating the eggs with more than necessary vigour. ‘That’s what I say. He’s a lecherous old varmint! I’m glad you done it.’
Hepzie, the lady’s maid, was filling a ewer with hot water ready for the young misses. She paused to wipe the sweat from her eyes. ‘There’ll be trouble,’ she warned. ‘You’d have done better to have give in to him. It wouldn’t have took long an’ you could have been made for life. Now you’ll be dismissed, sure as God made little apples. Once the missus finds out, you’ll be out that door afore you can say knife. I seen it all afore, many and many’s the time.’ She had never really approved of Suki’s rapid rise to favour, even though the girl was pleasant enough and good company in the kitchen. She had a sneaking feeling that her baby was a bastard, for all the talk of an absent husband, and to be wet nurse to a family as rich as Sir George’s when you were little better than a whore was too much like undeserved good fortune. ‘You should have took what was coming to you an’ made the best of it.’
‘Why should I?’ Suki asked.
‘Because that’s the way the world goes.’
The idea that had stirred in Suki’s mind under the revulsion of her master’s attack, stirred again, took hold and began to expand. ‘Well then, it shouldn’t. He don’t own me.’
‘’Course he does,’ Bessie said, reasonably. ‘He’s the master.’
‘Not body an’ soul,’ Suki argued. ‘He hires my titties for his babba, that’s all. The rest of my body’s mine. An’ if I don’t give permission, no one got no right to use it.’
‘Such nonsense!’ Hepzie said. ‘What of that husband a yours? He got the right to it, for a start. ’Tis his by law.’
Suki coloured. That was a different matter altogether. He could have her whenever he wanted because she loved him too much to deny him anything. ‘The law don’t come into it,’ she said. ‘Not between man an’ wife.’
‘You’re such a goose, Suki Brown,’ Hepzie mocked. ‘’Course it comes into it. Marriage is a matter of law from start to finish.’
‘Then it shouldn’t be,’ Suki said stoutly. ‘That’s my opinion of it. If the law can step in atween man and wife then the law’s wrong.’ But she was out of her depth in this conversation so she swung the subject back to Sir George. ‘As to the master, I’m as good as him any day of the week. ’Tis only money makes him the master and me the maid. How if ’twere lost. What then?’
‘I can tell you what now, which is more to the point,’ Hepzie said, tartly. ‘They’ll send you a-packing when they know what you’ve done. You’ll be laughing the other side of your face then, you mark my words.’
‘No they won’t,’ Suki said, defiantly. ‘Not when I got that babby of their’n to feed. Anyways, no man takes me when I aren’t willin’, and that’s all there is to that.’
There was a swish of skirts, a snort of disapproval and the housekeeper was in the room.
‘What’s this?’ she said sharply. ‘Is the work all done, is that it, that you think you may sit by the fire and gossip? I wonder at you, Cook! Hepzibah, that water is waited for in milady’s room. The surgeon will be here presently. Look lively if you please.’
There was a rush to show her how diligent they could be and Hepzie flounced out of the room with the ewer.
‘You fed that other babby yet, gel?’ Cook whispered.
In the trials of the moment, Suki had forgotten all about him. ‘No, I ’aven’t,’ she whispered.
‘Best see to un then or she’ll have something to say about that an’ all. I’ll make up a dish of groats an’ bring it to ’ee presently.’
Poor little thing, Suki thought, smitten with sympathy for him. He must be hungry by this time. He haven’t been fed since early morning. And she went off at once to attend to him.
The nursery was just along the corridor, set apart from the kitchen and the servant’s stairs by the butler’s parlour, the wine store and the pantry. When both babies were asleep — as they were at the moment — it was very quiet. William Bradbury lay in his fine cradle under his embroidered quilt, firmly swaddled and motionless, his eyes tightly shut. Her own pretty Jack was in his cushioned box making sucking noises as he turned his head from side to side.
‘No more for you, my lad,’ she said to him happily. ‘You’ve had more than enough.’ And she pulled back the quilt to wake her other infant.
The baby was as white as wax and cold to the touch. ‘Come along my ’andsome,’ she said to him, cheerfully, as she lifted him from the cradle into the warmth of her arms. ‘We can’t have you cold. Not on a fine warm morning like this. Open your little eyes.’ But even as she spoke she knew that he would never open his eyes again. He was limp in her arms, his pale head lolling.
‘Oh my dear life!’ she said. ‘You aren’t dead! You can’t be dead.’
But he was. There was no doubt about it. The shock of it made her tremble so violently that she had to sit down on her little nursing chair for fear of falling. She couldn’t understand it. How could he possibly be dead? He’d been sleeping peacefully not ten minutes ago, when she put Jack in his cradle, before… She was overwhelmed with pity for him. Poor little thing, she thought, to die before he even knew he was alive.
For a few seconds she sat in her nursing chair with the dead child on her lap, still trembling and too upset to know what to do. Then her mind began to function with a speed and clarity she’d never experienced before, slotting facts into line, one after the other, so that she saw all the consequences of this death — and all at once.
She would lose her nice comfortable post in the household, and all the good food that was making milk in abundance for young Jack and keeping her so healthy. The Bradburys would be furious and accuse her of neglecting their child and God alone knows what might come of that. On her first day with the family, Lady Hermione had impressed upon her that she was to feed her ‘noble charge’ at regular intervals but she rarely had. He was always asleep and didn’t seem to mind whether he was fed or not, whereas Jack woke at a touch and roared far too loudly to be asked to wait a minute. Now they would claim she’d been disobedient and make trouble out of it. Especially after whacking the master.
Even if they didn’t, she’d lost her job. She would have to go home and live with her family again, which would mean raising her lovely infant in all the dirt and squalor she thought she’d left behind. Worse, she would have to appear before the justice and be shamed as an unmarried mother, to stand there in open court and be bullied to ‘name the father’. The humiliation of it. And all so that the parish could force him to marry her or to pay for the upkeep of the child, neither of which were possible, as he’d explained to her right at the start. The thought of being publicly shamed was more than she could bear. It would be terrible even if she had the knowledge and the will to tell them what they wanted. But she didn’t. She didn’t know her lover’s surname or where he lived or even where he was at that moment. In fact, she hadn’t seen him since before their baby’d been born. He was Captain Jack, that was all. He rode in and out of Bath as he pleased, never gave her any other name, as free and easy as the air he breathed. How could she ‘name the father’ in circumstances like that?
There was nothing for it. She had got to stay where she was. It was imperative. But how? Struggling with her thoughts, she looked down at the poor little dead baby. His face was oddly peaceful, which was curious, because until then he’d always seemed to be scowling, even in his sleep. Now he looked innocent and angelic — like her Jack. It was the first time she’d seen any similarity between them, although they were both of an age with round faces and snub noses and the same dusting of fine pale hair.
And suddenly, she knew what to do. It was simple and obvious. She would swap babies.
She turned the dead baby over on to his stomach, took off his cap and his embroidered coat and unbuttoned his long gown. Then she pulled one of Jack’s patched gowns from the clothes horse, where it was hanging to air, dressed him in it quickly and carried him across to Jack’s box, holding him against her shoulder so as to avoid the sight of his little dead face.
Jack was sound asleep, his long eyelashes casting blue shadows on his cheeks. She set the dead child alongside him and took him out of the box very, very gently so as not to wake him. By now she was alarmed by the sinfulness of what she was doing and her heart was beating painfully. But it had to be done. She was driven by desperation, feeling she had no other choice, her senses still in uproar from Sir George’s attack and her own crazy ideas, her mind spinning with panic. She couldn’t let them dismiss her. Not now. Not after what had happened in that bedroom. Not when she’d made a stand.
It took longer to dress her Jack in the Bradbury clothes because her fingers were clumsy with panic and she had to work delicately so as not to wake him. But at last it was done and he was settled in the cradle and tucked under the quilt, still sleeping.
She found she was panting and afraid and very near tears. She picked up Jack’s discarded gown and put it in the dirty clothes basket, working automatically. And at that moment, Cook pushed the door open with her foot and came in with the promised dish of groats.
‘Land sakes!’ she said, alarmed by Suki’s stricken face. ‘What’s the matter with ’ee, child? You aren’t still a-grieving over that old varmint, surely to goodness?’
It was as if she’d given Suki leave to cry. The tears spilled from her eyes in such a flood she couldn’t speak. Choking and sobbing, she waved her hand weakly at the dead baby and fell back against the table for support. Now her heart was beating in her throat for she was sure she was going to be found out. But no. Cook accepted the dead child as Jack without a second look.
‘Now you sit right down, you poor dear gel!’ she said. ‘What a terrible thing to happen! An’ after all that business with the master too. ‘’Tis cruel, so ’tis. But you must be brave about it my dear, same as all of us. There aren’t a woman in this town what en’t lost a babby some time or other. ’Tis the common lot of womankind, so ’tis. You’m young yet. Grief will pass, believe me. There’ll be others. Have a good weep, but don’t ’ee cry too much my dear, or you’ll spoil your milk. Have you fed the other one?’
Suki nodded.
‘You’m a good gel, Suki Brown,’ Cook said. ‘Now you sit there and see if you can’t eat those groats. You got to keep up your strength no matter what. I’ll go an’ find Mr Jessup. He’ll know what’s to be done.’ She patted Suki’s shoulder and turned to leave.
Mr Jessup was already on his way down the corridor. He’d completed his errand and was returning to his parlour when he was alerted by the sound of weeping. As the Bradbury’s butler, it was his job to know everything that was going on in the household and crying of that sort was too extreme to be ignored. He took command as soon as he entered the room, examined both babies without recognising either, told Suki to stay where she was and Cook to get on with preparing the dinner. Then he went off to inform the mistress.
‘He’ll see to everything for ’ee,’ Cook comforted before she left. ‘Don’t ’ee fret.’
Suki sat where she was, dried her flowing eyes and began to eat the groats, for she was hungry despite fear and panic and the enormity of her deception. Cook was right. Whatever she might be feeling, there was a baby to feed and she had to keep her strength up.
Things had happened so quickly that morning that, shameful though they were, there was a sort of graceless inevitability about them that stunned her sense of guilt. Reason told her that she’d done a terrible thing and that she would be punished for it sooner or later, either on earth when the missus found out or in heaven when she had to give an account of herself to her Maker. But to her senses it felt more like a victory than a sin — secret and ignominious but a victory nevertheless. A step away from squalor, poverty, lack of food. A step to protect her darling. A vindication after the humiliation of being expected to serve the master’s lust. In any case, now that Mr Jessup had taken over, it was beyond her control. I’ve burnt my boats, she thought. The deed is done and there’s no going back on it now.
Chapter 2
‘Oh dear!’ Lady Bradbury said, drawing her eyebrows together in the slight scowl of annoyance that was all she would allow herself in front of the servants. ‘That is most inconvenient. You are sure she was the one, Mrs Sparepenny?’
‘Quite sure, milady,’ the housekeeper said with conviction. ‘She makes no secret of it.’
‘You were well to tell me,’ Lady Bradbury approved. But she was thinking what an unconscionable nuisance it was. Now she would be put to all the bother of finding another wet nurse, and just when the baby was coming along so well. There were times when the fates seemed to conspire against her. For this to happen today of all days, when three of her most important friends were due for cards at two o’clock and the renowned Lady Fosdyke and her husband were coming to dine, was annoying in the extreme. She’d taken such pains over the menu, insisting on a salmagundi and pigeon pie and mutton with lemon pickle and a cornucopia of comfits. And now this. It was too bad.
However she saw no reason why she should change her plans simply because her husband had allowed his lust to get the better of him. She would go to the Pump Room as she intended, while he was having his wound dressed and his bowels relieved, and then she would make up her mind what was to be done.
But even that limited comfort was denied her, for at that moment Mr Jessup arrived at her door, coughing in that odd, apologetic way of his — krrm krrm krrm — to inform her that Suki’s baby was dead.
Hermione’s concern was instant and medical. ‘Was it a fever, Jessup?’
‘No ma’am. Found dead so I believe.’
‘An infection then?’
‘I would think not, ma’am. There were no signs.’
‘Is William well?’
Mr Jessup assured her that he looked very fit indeed, but that didn’t satisfy his mother. ‘Have the cradle carried up here directly,’ she commanded. ‘The surgeon shall see him the instant he has attended my husband.’
Suki was still eating her groats when Barnaby and one of the grooms strode into the nursery. She was horribly alarmed when they picked up the cradle, baby and all, and carried it through the door.
‘Where you goin’ with my babba?’ she cried, springing to her feet to defend him. ‘Put him down this instant.’
‘He’s to be took upstairs,’ Barnaby explained. ‘To the boudoir. Missus’ orders.’
The anguish of being parted from her darling so abruptly and unexpectedly was so extreme that Suki felt as if her guts were being squashed in a vice. ‘You can’t take him away from me,’ she cried, her face distraught. ‘How shall I know when he needs feedin’?’
‘Don’ ask me,’ Barnaby said. ‘He’s to be parted from the dead un, that’s all we been told.’ And with that they were through the door and jogging the cradle along the corridor.
This was a consequence Suki hadn’t foreseen. Surely she don’t mean to take him away from me altogether, she grieved, trotting along behind them. She couldn’t intend that. Not when I’m feedin’ him. ’Twould be too cruel. But Lady Bradbury wasn’t in the boudoir and couldn’t be asked what she intended. There was only Mr Jessup, standing by the window, dour in his black coat and breeches, thin mouth down-turned, black eyes stern, sharp nose pointing straight at her.
‘Go back to the kitchen, Suki Brown,’ he said. ‘You’ll be called for when your services are required. The surgeon will be here presently to examine the other child. That will be all.’
So Suki had to trail bleakly down the servant’s stairs again and wait in the kitchen, feeling more anxious than she’d ever felt in her life. It was a long wait, even though Bessie kept them all amused with a running commentary on everything that was happening above stairs.
‘Here’s Mr Wrencher come,’ she said, peering out of the area window. ‘I can tell by his boots. That won’t please the master. The missus is in the hall. Hear her? And that dratted dog a-yappin’ on the stairs. Who’s he going to bite next? Now here’s the master on the landing. You can tell that tread anywhere. Oh, we shall ’ave screamin’ presently.’
Voices were raised. The master roared and swore. Jessup was rung for and returned to the kitchen with demands for more hot water — and more — and more.
