Evie’s Choice

‘The Silver Ghost?’ Will whistled. ‘You are a very lucky girl, Miss Evangeline.’

‘Call me Evie.’ It suddenly seemed important that he not think of me as one of the Creswells, after all he wasn’t one of the servants. If I had expected a modest protest from him I was pleasantly surprised.

‘Evie,’ he said, pretending to mull it over. Then he nodded. ‘I approve. As long as you promise to call me Lord William, and to bow each time you see me.’

‘My Lord,’ I said, dropping into an elaborate curtsey. Rising, I saw his smile, just before it faltered and we fell into silence. We both looked away, casting about for something to say to prolong the meeting, and with a sinking heart I remembered my arrangement with Miss Peters.

‘I have to go. Although I would have loved to stand here all afternoon, even in this faintly awkward silence.’ Turning it into a joke made it a little easier, at least, and he was surprised into a laugh. ‘Thank you so much for the sweet gift,’ I added, my voice a little softer. I wanted him to know I meant it, that I wasn’t merely being polite.

His smile slipped, leaving his expression defiantly hopeful. ‘I’ll never make one for anyone else.’

‘Good. I’m glad.’ I looked at him for a long moment, and then, obeying an instinct deeper than both etiquette and good sense, I stepped close and placed a quick kiss on the edge of his mouth. I paused, then said, ‘I have a feeling I’m going to miss you, Will Davies. Why is that, do you suppose?’

‘Because I’m irresistible?’

I smiled. ‘Have a lovely spring, I’ll be thinking of you. And when the new scullery maid starts in a week or two just make sure you’re not too irresistible.’ I briefly wondered at my own boldness, at both the kiss and the implication behind my words, but it was an exhilarating feeling nevertheless, and the look on his face told me it was not unwelcome. When I left him standing there I was determined not to look back, but felt the weight of his gaze between my shoulder blades like a warm hand, and the smile on my face made people glance twice at me and give me quizzical little smiles in return. But it was with Will that my mind stayed from that moment on.

Those two months felt like two years. The London Creswells were charming company, and the house magnificent, but it wasn’t Oaklands. In the same way, there had been plenty of potential suitors, many of them handsome enough, all without a doubt extremely wealthy, and some of them even amusing, but there had been no Will Davies among them. Not one of them made me smile the way he did, or caused my chest to flutter the way his touch had. I arrived back at Breckenhall on a warm day in the middle of May, and would have loved to have found some reason to wander around the town, and past Frank Markham’s shop window a few times, but the train had been delayed so we were late arriving. At least I was back in the same town, and might see Will at any time, and I would have to be content with that for now.

Uncle Jack, who wasn’t my uncle at all but an old friend of my deceased father, was dressed in his usual casual clothes that we both knew would make Mother wince, and it cheered me so much to see him that disappointment was pushed to the to the back of my mind. My attention was taken up, for the moment, with the opportunity to put some of those clandestine driving lessons into practice: here was Uncle Jack in his marvellous motor, and no Mother to put her foot firmly down on the fun. But he was not to be moved.

‘Absolutely not. Your mother would never allow me to set foot in the house again if anyone were to see you. And as for what she would do to you, well –’

‘Then we shall keep each other’s secret.’

‘We shall do nothing of the sort. And you don’t know how to drive anyway.’

‘Oh, don’t I?’ I couldn’t help grinning.

‘Evie …’

‘For your information, Uncle Jack, I’ve been driving a good deal whilst in London.’

‘Why did you have to tell me that?’ he groaned. ‘Now I can’t pretend any more that I’d no idea.’

‘You knew?’

‘I’d heard. But if your mother knew she’d have you confined to your rooms until you turn sixty.’

‘Then it’s a good thing I know you won’t tell her,’ I said, though with less certainty than hope. ‘Besides,’ I went on, eyeing him up and down, ‘someone who dresses as you do can’t possibly tell tales to my mother and expect them to be believed.’

‘What’s wrong with the way I dress?’

‘Honestly, you never wear the right clothes! It’s why I love you, of course.’

I stopped as we reached the car, and stared in surprise. A girl of around my own age sat huddled in the back, looking at me with wide blue eyes, and a terrified look on her face.

I wasn’t quite sure what to say, but I had to say something, if only to make the poor girl feel better. ‘Hello, whoever you are! Uncle Jack, have you been out collecting waifs and strays, or are you going to tell me this is your latest conquest?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you should know who this is, she works for you after all. In fact I’m taking her back to work now.’

I frowned, looking again at the girl. ‘I’ve never seen you before, and I do know the staff rather well, unlike my mother.’

‘I’m n-new. I’ve only been at Oaklands for two months.’ She must be the new scullery maid. Her voice was soft, a little husky-sounding, and had a very rustic accent.

‘Well then.’ I turned back to Uncle Jack in triumph. ‘You see? For all your disapproval, this girl began work after I’d already left for London.’ I looked at the girl again. ‘You’re very pretty, but you’re a skinny thing. We must make sure Mrs Hannah feeds you up. What’s your name?’

‘Mar…Lizzy.’

She’d been about to say Mary, which must have been her real name, but she’d have been made to change that, of course, since our housemaid was called Mary. ‘Mare Lizzy?’ I deliberately misunderstood, smiling. The smile faded as I considered that the girl might well find an audience for her escapades today, and that word would almost certainly get back to Mother. I should nip rumour in the bud now.

‘Well, Mare Lizzy, I know how words are thrown around in the kitchens, and when they’re caught they’re often fumbled. I’d hate for anyone to be under the mistaken impression I’d gone against my mother’s wishes whilst in London.’

‘Of course not,’ she responded promptly. ‘I’m sure I shan’t remember a thing of our meeting once I’m back at work.’

Our eyes met and held for a moment, then my smile returned. ‘I have a feeling I can trust you, Mare Lizzy.’

‘I’m just Lizzy.’

‘I know that, silly,’ I said. ‘Uncle Jack, if we don’t hurry I shall be late for tea, and Just Lizzy will be late for work.’

‘I’m not the one standing around gossiping,’ he said. ‘And I do wish you wouldn’t call me Uncle Jack. It makes me feel ancient.’

‘You are ancient!’ I winked at Lizzy before climbing into the front seat. She was looking quite terrified both of the motor car, and of me, but I instinctively liked her, and although our paths didn’t cross again for quite some time I often thought back to that short journey, and the way she had sat in silence once the car had begun to move, embracing the new experience with quiet but intense enjoyment, her natural fear falling away to leave her breathless and bright-eyed as we parted company. I made Uncle Jack stop at the bottom of the drive, and turned around, genuinely regretful.

‘Lizzy, I don’t want to sound mean but I really think it might be better if you walked from here. Mother will hear the approach of the car, if she hasn’t already, and will certainly come to meet us at the door.’ I shrugged, not sure how to put it without causing offence. ‘She doesn’t approve of family and servants mixing company I’m afraid. Terribly old-fashioned, of course, but I must respect her wishes.’

‘When you’re in her house at least.’

As the words left her lips to hang unretractably between us, Lizzy looked at me as though she wished the car would burst into flames around her. My own stunned surprise faded into realisation that she was absolutely right, and I almost laughed outright but managed to contain it; I must appear to possess some dignity at least. So I turned away instead, nearly putting my teeth through my lip in my effort to appear stern. I daren’t look at Uncle Jack, who’d clearly had the same thoughts, and was staring straight ahead as if he had never been up our drive before, and was trying to see right up to the end of it.

Lizzy slipped from the car to begin her walk, and I saw her miserably embarrassed gaze following the car, as it roared up to the house with far more haste than was necessary. Neither of us suspected for one moment that we had just met the dearest friend each of us would ever know.

Chapter Three

The summer limped on. It seemed I had no time to myself, no opportunity to be looking out of the window for sight of Frank Markham’s van, and certainly none to be walking around Breckenhall in the hopes of seeing Will. There was a faint disappointment that he wasn’t seeking me out either, but I admitted I was being unreasonable; how could he possibly? Nevertheless, I began to wonder if I’d imagined the connection and growing warmth between us, and the sense of anticipation that had been coiling in my stomach since my return home was replaced by niggling doubt, and even faint embarrassment.

August was creeping towards its end, and my childhood with it. I would be eighteen on the twenty-third, and after that my life would be even less my own than it was now; strange how I had always envied the grown-ups their freedom, never suspecting that they were as much fettered by expectation as Lawrence and me. I found my interest in the Suffrage movement increasing; the sense of change just around the corner found an anchor in some frustrated corner of my mind, and began to pull…more than once Uncle Jack and I talked about it – he had reservations, not about the principle, but about the way the cause was gathering momentum; too fast and potentially dangerous. But to me it sounded not only exciting but inevitable and necessary, and I began to read as much literature as I could on the subject..

A few days before my birthday, thoughts of politics, and even of Will, had been swamped in importance by Mother’s insistence that I behave according to my new status and take a personal maid. Everyone seemed certain the kitchen maid, Ruth, would be chosen. I didn’t want a maid, could think of few worse things than having a little shadow, of any shape or size, but that it was likely to be the awful Ruth Wilkins was too much, and I said so.

‘I am not asking you for your views,’ Mother said mildly. ‘I am simply telling you what is expected of you. Besides, you will find a maid utterly invaluable, and, since we will be entertaining more now, Peters will not be at your disposal any longer.’

‘But does it have to be Ruth? She’s…well, she’s not at all the kind of person I can turn to if I need anything.’

Her voice became firmer. ‘Your maid is not your friend, Evangeline, and in any case, you know nothing about Ruth. She is an exceptionally good worker, according to Mrs Cavendish, and keen to better herself. I think she should do quite nicely.’

I sighed. Mother didn’t know I spent more time talking to the staff than I did my own family, so I was not supposed to know anything about the girl. But I did, of course, and I didn’t like any of it. She might well be skilled, and on the surface appear a dedicated worker, but in reality I knew her to be lazy, rude and selfish, with one ambition only: to move “upstairs”. I had never trusted her, and if I couldn’t trust my maid then surely it was better not to have one. But Mother waved my argument away, and I was on the verge of resorting to begging, and even promising to behave more like a young lady, when Uncle Jack spoke up from where he sat in the corner.

‘Lily, perhaps Evie might be permitted to make her own choice from the staff? And then whoever she chooses might be allowed to either accept or decline.’

I turned in indignation, to demand he explain why anyone would be likely to decline, and caught the ghost of his grin. ‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ I said instead, refusing to rise to his teasing. ‘What do you think, Mother?’

Mother sighed and glanced at Uncle Jack, who nodded encouragement. ‘Oh, very well. Although Ruth will be disappointed; she has long been the certain choice.’

‘Not mine!’ Seeing her expression I realised I was in danger of upsetting everything, and made myself stop there.

‘You have until Friday morning,’ Mother said. ‘Please, darling, do choose wisely.’

‘But my birthday is Friday, I’ll need someone to –’

‘Whoever you choose will still be needed up until Saturday morning at least,’ Mother said. ‘There are lots of preparations to make for the party on Saturday night. But don’t worry, Alice will see to you on Friday. Now do go for a walk while you think about it, your pacing up and down here is giving me quite a headache.’

‘I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll do that.’

‘If you see Lawrence while you’re out, tell him he’s late for his lessons yet again. Mr Stoper is in danger of losing his patience.’

‘I will. And I’ll come and tell you as soon as I’ve chosen.’

I wandered down the drive and out onto the Breckenhall road, my mind ranging over the staff as I went. The second housemaid, Emma Bird, was sweet, but she had a dreadfully intense and obvious crush on Uncle Jack, and since they would see each other often it might be embarrassing for him. I smiled to myself; that might be reason enough to choose her! But it wouldn’t be fair on poor Emma to use her for such sport.

Mary Deegan, the other housemaid, was lovely. She was kind and hard-working, rather serious much of the time, but I was sure she would soon unbend once we got to know each other. Yes, Mary was a good choice. Anyone would be, except Ruth! Emma said she hadn’t improved at all and had taken an instant dislike to the new scullery maid.

Lizzy! I stopped in the road wondering why I hadn’t thought of her straight away. She might be new, but Mother had said I might have my choice, she hadn’t said it must be someone who had worked here a long time. I thought back to my first sight of the girl as she huddled in the back of Uncle Jack’s car, hatless, with dark hair that had started out merely cloudy, and had ended up a terrific mess from the wind that whipped it into tangles. She had been looking at me then as if she thought I might dismiss her on the spot if she opened her mouth, and yet she had spoken up, with blunt honesty. Just Lizzy. Yes, perfect!

A rumbling in the road behind me made me look back. It was Markham’s van, crawling along no faster than I was walking, but the butcher himself was not driving it – instead Will Davies sat behind the wheel, squinting through the glass and concentrating on the road so hard he had not recognised me. I stopped walking and waited until he drew alongside, then I waved, and his expression was so comically startled that I couldn’t help laughing. But I didn’t laugh for long.

The van lurched to the right, tugged that way by Will’s determination to keep control of the vehicle despite lifting his left hand to wave back to me, and, as he realised what he had done, he grabbed the wheel again and sent the van careering across the road. It cut in front of me, and as I cried out in shock at the near miss, the van toppled into the ditch, precariously balanced on two wheels, and its driver spilled over the half-door to land sprawled beside it.

‘Will!’

He raised his head and looked at me, dazed, and I saw he was moments away from being crushed. He saw it too, and scrambled to his feet, and I grabbed his hand and pulled him away a bare second before the van crashed onto its side. We stood there, both of us staring at the van, and then at each other. Will opened his mouth to say something, but instead turned back to the van that had chuntered into silence. We were both breathing hard and I realised, at the same moment Will did, that we were still holding hands. He didn’t let go.

Instead he said in an awed voice, ‘I think you might have just saved my life.’

It gave me a strange feeling to realise he was right. On the other hand …‘Well, it was my fault you crashed. Will Mr Markham fire you for this?’

‘No, I’m too good at my job.’

I was about to tease him about his lack of modesty, but such was his confidence I was certain he was justified in it. ‘What will you do now?’

‘Walk.’

I stared at him, and he stared back, and then, out of nowhere we both erupted into laughter. It sounded wonderful in the summer air, free from hysteria, and unforced, and Will was still smiling as he stood back and let go of my hand.

He walked around to the back of the van and grimaced, then glanced at me curiously before bending to pick up one of the empty boxes that had fallen out. ‘Why are you walking alone, anyway?’

‘Mother was getting a headache.’

He blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I was driving her to distraction, as usual, pacing up and down.’ I went to help him and, with an odd mixture of pique and amusement I realised he wasn’t going to say, “No, Miss Evangeline, you mustn’t.” I hid my own smile as I dragged an empty box out of the ditch and placed it on top of the one he had laid beside him.

‘What prompted all the pacing?’ he asked.

It did sound silly, and petulant, even to my own ears, and I sighed; ‘It’s my birthday in two days. I’m expected to take a maid, although I don’t want one.’

‘It certainly looks as though you don’t need one,’ he observed, as I helped him lift another box.

I gave him a wry look. ‘Apparently it has little to do with ability, and everything to do with tradition. Besides, Mother says I won’t have Alice to help out any more, since we’re going to be having a lot more house guests from now on.’

‘Finding you a husband?’

‘Don’t, please!’

He leaned on the underneath of the van. ‘So you’ll be eighteen then,’ he said, and the way his eyes locked onto mine was both unnerving and deeply, viscerally, exciting.

‘Yes. Mother wanted me to have Ruth Wilkins.’ He winced, and I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Do you know her?’

‘Not as well as Frank Markham does,’ he said. ‘The two of them have been carrying on at least for as long as I’ve known him, probably much longer.’

Clearly none of the other staff were aware of this or Ruth would have had her marching orders, good worker or not. But I was trying to appear a woman of the world, and so I tried not to let my surprise and distaste show. ‘Well, I don’t like her,’ I said.

‘You’re a good judge of character then. I don’t think even Mr Markham likes her, particularly.’

I didn’t want to think about Ruth; the more I heard the more I realised I’d had a lucky escape. ‘I’ve made my choice anyway,’ I said, still pleased with it, ‘and it’s most certainly not Ruth. It’s the new scullery maid.’

‘Lizzy Parker?’

‘Just Lizzy.’ He looked puzzled, and I grinned. ‘It doesn’t matter. Yes, Lizzy Parker. She seems a lively sort, and I’m sure we’ll get on famously.’

‘She’s an angel,’ he agreed, and I was ashamed to feel a tingle of jealousy at his warm familiarity, but when I glanced at him he was looking back at me with an odd look on his face and I didn’t think Lizzy was on his mind at all at that moment.

Something about that look made me ask, ‘How old are you, Will?’

‘Older than you think, probably,’ he said. ‘Most people think I’m about twenty.’

‘I thought that.’

‘I was twenty-five last January.’

I studied him closely, noting, for the first time, the way he held himself; there was none of the gawky awkwardness of a young man just growing into his body, he was comfortable and at ease with his own strength. He was having an increasingly unsettling effect on me and I sought refuge in teasing.

‘That seems a little older that I’d have expected for a butcher’s boy,’ I observed, hoping the flush did not show as vividly as it felt.

Will moved a step closer. ‘I’m no boy, Evie.’ He brushed his hand over my wrist, and we both watched as my fingers and his twined together, capturing each other in wordless acceptance of the attraction between us. Once again we each sought something to say, our eyes still on our linked hands as if they might say it for us. Will took a deep breath, and his free hand rose to my face, but before he could speak again we heard an alarmed, childlike voice from the other side of the van.

‘Mr Markham? Are you all right?’

We froze, staring at each other. My mind raced; Lawrence was decent enough, for a brother, but if he saw Will and me together by the stricken van he might easily let something slip during his inevitable telling of the story later.

Will leaned in close, and his breath brushed warm on my cheek as he whispered, ‘I’ll tell you more about my life one day, and how I came to be working for Markham. If you’d like that?’

‘I would.’ We both took a step back, and I smoothed down my skirt with hands that shook and still felt Will’s warmth. Lawrence was still on the other side of the van and hadn’t seen us, so I moved away, stepping over a patch of mud. My foot came down short of my intended spot, and I slipped. Quick as lightning Will’s hand was at my waist, steadying me, and I caught my breath, hoping he would keep it there. But with Lawrence so close it would have been foolish to risk him seeing us, and Will let go of me as soon as my footing was secure once more. I wondered if he felt the same twinge of disappointment as I did.

There was no possible way to avoid being seen; Lawrence was having a good look around the van and it mustn’t seem as if we were hiding. Ignoring Will’s horrified look I stepped out into the road, in full view.

‘Lawrence! Thank goodness.’ His face, open and honest and very young for fifteen years old, went blank with astonishment at seeing me there. ‘I’m afraid I’ve caused a terrible accident,’ I went on. ‘Luckily no one was hurt, but it’s entirely my fault Mr Davies crashed the van.’

‘Yours? How?’

‘I wasn’t paying attention, and walked right out in front of him. If he hadn’t been so quick he might have run me over.’

Lawrence looked awestruck. He was a sweet boy and I felt bad for deceiving him, but this was an event he would be telling everyone about for some time, and I couldn’t risk asking him to keep quiet about my being here, he was too excited.

‘It wasn’t entirely your fault, Miss,’ Will said, emerging from behind the van to stand behind me. I couldn’t see his face, but he had managed to inject a note of annoyance into his voice and it was hard not to smile.

‘Oh, you’re too kind, Mr Davies, but it was.’ I turned to him. Sure enough he was scowling, but I was close enough to see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and the dimple came and went quickly. ‘You must be very shaken. Come back to the house, Mrs Hannah will be pleased to make you a warm drink.’

‘Thank you, Miss. Sir.’ Will nodded at Lawrence, who smiled at the address. He would have to get used to it; he was heir to Oaklands after all, and people would soon be accepting him as more than just “the little boy at the Manor”.

Will and I were careful to keep our distance as we walked back up the long driveway, allowing Lawrence to walk between us and ask Will all kinds of questions, about the van, and about driving in particular. Remembering Will’s fierce concentration as he drove, I was sure I could have answered those questions with more detail, and certainly more enthusiasm, but I let them chatter, and instead concentrated on the way my feelings towards Will had intensified during my time away. It was impossible to ignore the way he’d looked at me just before Lawrence had arrived and, while it might be socially unacceptable, there was no longer any doubt in my mind that Will and myself had a path to travel together at some point.

I reluctantly let Lawrence take charge of directing Will to the kitchens, and found Mother in the hall saying goodbye to Uncle Jack. Because of his government work he was often away for long stretches of time, and he didn’t even live with us, but it was difficult to remember that and always a wrench when he left. This time though, I knew he would be back in time for my party on Saturday, which made it easier to see him off cheerfully. I wished I was going too, and that we could both stay away until after Saturday; as excited as I was, part of me still dreaded this party and the way my life would change after it.