‘You shouldn’t talk like that when you know Lady Harvey’s mother is dying,’ Nell said sharply.
Hope wanted to retort that Lady Harvey hadn’t shown much sympathy when their own mother died. But she didn’t say it; Nell had a blind spot where their mistress was concerned.
Hope kissed Nell goodbye in the kitchens, and clung to her a little more tightly than she usually did.
‘Who’s being a bit of a baby?’ Nell whispered fondly. ‘I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ Hope admitted, and bit back tears. Nell hadn’t been away with Lady Harvey once since their parents died, but now she was going, Hope was scared.
Nell smoothed a strand of hair back from Hope’s forehead and tucked it under her cap. ‘Have I ever told you what you mean to me?’ she asked in a whisper, very aware that Martha and Baines were standing nearby.
Hope shook her head.
‘Everything!’ Nell said. ‘You have done since I first held you as a baby. So you just mind you behave yourself. I don’t want to get back here and find you in disgrace.’
Once Lady Harvey had left for Sussex, Briargate seemed to slip into a kind of torpor.
With no more meals to prepare for the dining room, no fires to be lit, less cleaning, laundry and all the countless other tasks they were relieved of now neither the master nor the mistress was in residence, the servants could relax. Martha mentioned making some jam with the last of the black currants from the garden, but looked as if she was in no hurry to start. Even Baines settled down in the servants’ hall to read the newspaper.
Martha sent Hope down to the orchard later in the morning to pick some plums. Hope took her time, stopping at a small terrace just above the orchard to look around her and savour the beauty of the scene. All the fruit trees were laden – voluptuous purple plums, pale green pears and red shiny apples, all so perfect and luscious. Fat bumblebees buzzed lazily in the sunshine, a thrush was singing his heart out, and the air was laden with the smell of fruit and the lavender at her feet on the terrace.
Beyond the orchard down into the valley and up the other side great swathes of golden corn waved seductively in the light breeze. The harvest had begun; Hope could see silver flashes of sunshine on scythes as the men moved methodically across the fields. Matt would be among those men who looked no bigger than specks, maybe Joe and Henry too, and they would toil until the sun went down, praying that the good weather would last until it was all gathered in.
Hope ate a few of the plums as she filled her basket. They were warm and juicy, so sweet they made her almost delirious with pleasure, and she was glad she’d thought to put on the apron she wore for rough work as the juice ran down her chin in streams, staining it a deep, dark red.
She took her time going back to the house, stopping frequently to admire the many majestic old trees that had been planted when Briargate was built, and the new flowerbeds Albert had created in the last few years.
As she turned by a large horse chestnut, she saw him cutting the long grass around some bushes and she paused, suddenly struck by how handsome he looked with his face and forearms as brown and shiny as a conker, his thick black hair, well-proportioned nose and muscular but graceful body. Although she was usually afraid of him, here he didn’t look threatening for he was entirely at one with his surroundings, wielding his scythe with effortless precision.
‘The garden looks beautiful,’ she said nervously, expecting him to order her on her way. ‘That bed there is so bonny!’ She pointed towards one planted with tall white daisies and a purple starry flower she didn’t know the name of, standing behind a mass of marigolds.
Albert stopped his work and gave one of his rare smiles, showing very white teeth. ‘Aye, that one has done me proud,’ he said with surprising warmth. ‘But the rest is getting past its best now.’
Hope moved nearer to him and held out a plum. ‘Try one, they’re delicious.’
He looked at her stained apron and she expected that he would pass one of his more usual sarcastic comments, but he didn’t, just took the plum and bit into it, and smiled as juice spurted out.
‘Umm,’ he said appreciatively. ‘We’d better get them all eaten before the wasps find them.’
Delighted that for once he wasn’t being unpleasant, Hope handed him another. ‘You’ve made a fine job of the garden,’ she said.
He looked pleased at her compliment but made no comment.
‘It takes an artist’s eye to pick colours and shapes that blend so well together,’ she said shyly.
He smiled at that, and leaned on his scythe to mop the sweat from his brow with a piece of rag.
‘You look very hot,’ she said. ‘Shall I bring you out a drink?’
‘I’ll come up to the house myself soon,’ he said. ‘But thank you for asking.’
Hope went on then, but she felt a little glow inside her because she felt they’d at last made some sort of connection. She thought that when she went down to the gatehouse in the afternoon she’d leave a few of the plums in a bowl for him, and perhaps put a few flowers on the table. Nell would like it so much if she came home to find they were getting on better.
Ten days later, Ruth came into the kitchen from the stable yard, looking worried. ‘I can’t find Rufus,’ she said.
Martha and Hope were preparing supper. ‘He was with James in the stables,’ Martha replied. ‘At least, he was a while back because I heard them laughing.’
‘He’s not there now. James said he thought he’d come back in here. But he’s not in the house anywhere. I’ve looked everywhere in the gardens. I don’t know where else to look.’
‘He’ll turn up, Ruth, he’s not a baby any more,’ Hope said.
‘But he’s my responsibility while his mother’s away,’ Ruth said, her voice cracking with anxiety.
Only the previous day Ruth had claimed she wouldn’t mind if the master and mistress never came back, for the weather had remained hot and sunny, and she, like all the servants, had been very relaxed, doing only the bare minimum of work.
Yet for Ruth it had been an almost complete holiday for right from the first day his mother left, Rufus had insisted he wanted to eat with the servants, and now, a week later, the only time he went back into the nursery was to sleep.
In the mornings he was up early helping James with the horses, and later he’d come into the kitchen and offer his help there. His sunny nature and obvious delight at being let into the servants’ world affected everyone. All the normal rigid structure of the day had collapsed, work was done in the early mornings or evenings when it was cooler, meals were far simpler. A table and chairs were taken out into the stable yard, and even Albert, who normally only came in for a drink, gulped it down and left, now sat down at the table and joined in the conversations.
Hope could not remember ever hearing so much laughter at Briargate. One afternoon Baines had taught her, Rufus and Ruth a new card game, on another Rose had instructed them all on making corn dollies. But what Hope liked best of all was that she and Rufus could be together.
At first they were careful to behave as though they barely knew each other, but as the days passed no one seemed to notice or care about any over-familiarity. Baines did point out one Sunday morning when they were going to church that Hope should walk sedately and not run with Rufus like a hoyden, but it was only a very gentle reminder of her position, not a real rebuke.
‘He’ll be hiding somewhere hoping one of you will come past so he can jump out on you,’ Hope said. ‘I’ll go and look for him.’
She left the kitchen quickly, because she was pretty certain of where Rufus might be, although she just couldn’t imagine why he’d gone there now when it was nearly suppertime.
Once over the paddock fence, Hope picked up her skirts and ran to the woods. On Wednesday Baines had let her go off at eleven in the morning. Matt and Amy had been busy with the harvest so she’d only stayed with them for a couple of hours and met Rufus in the woods much earlier than she normally did. They’d found an old boat among the reeds around the pond, and they’d spent much of the time trying to get it out. Rufus had talked excitedly about bringing some tools down so they could mend it and use it on the pond.
She guessed that was exactly what Rufus was doing now, hoping to surprise her and not noticing how late it was getting.
It was much cooler in the woods, and the paths that had been so well defined earlier in the year were now overgrown with weeds and brambles. Hope knew every inch of the woods, but in places it was hard to get through, and in her haste the brambles caught at her hair and scratched her cheeks and hands.
She called to him as she hurried along, urging him to come out because she guessed Ruth would soon send James or Albert down this way. But Rufus didn’t answer, and when she stood still for a moment to listen, she couldn’t hear anything other than birdsong.
By the time she got to the pond she was out of breath and very hot. Once again she called and listened, but she could hear nothing. Almost the entire surface of the pond was covered with weed and water lilies and teeming with midges which bombarded her as she drew nearer the water. She couldn’t see the boat as it was tucked up in reeds on the far side of the pond, but if Rufus had been there, she surely would have been able to see or hear him.
She stood there for a few moments, undecided what to do next. The voice of reason told her she was mistaken in thinking he’d be here and she should go back to Briargate, but a cold feeling at the pit of her stomach urged her to go round the pond and make absolutely certain.
They had found the boat when they had approached the pond from the other side, but it was very difficult to get round there from where she was now. In winter the stream which fed the pond was often a raging torrent; now it was nothing more than a trickle. But reeds, weeds and brambles had covered the still-damp mud, and she had to pick her way carefully through them. She could hear Albert and James shouting out Rufus’s name in the distance too, coming down towards the wood, so she had to be quick for if they found her here she’d have a lot of explaining to do.
Finally she reached the boat, and saw it was half-turned on its side, the keel towards her. She knew then that Rufus had been here for it had been lying flat on Wednesday.
Fear clutched at her innards, for she sensed that he’d either got into the water to try to move it, or slipped from the reed bed as he worked the boat loose. He couldn’t swim, he’d told her that the first time they’d come here. And even a good swimmer would have difficulty in water choked with reeds.
Hope wrenched off her boots, dress, petticoat and stockings, and wearing just her chemise plunged into the water and went round the prow of the boat.
She saw him then, completely submerged but for his head which appeared to be resting on reeds. There was an angry gash on his forehead.
Panic made her forget she didn’t know how deep the water was and that she couldn’t swim either. Suddenly there was nothing beneath her feet and she sank under the water. She thrashed her arms and legs and managed to get her head above the surface again just long enough to reach out for the side of the boat. Spluttering and spitting out pond water, she managed to work her way along the boat till she reached Rufus.
The way he looked was all too reminiscent of her father when she found him dead. ‘Rufus!’ she pleaded with him, splashing some water on his face. ‘You can’t be dead! Wake up and speak to me!’
But there was no response, and hearing James and Albert calling somewhere nearby, she put back her head and screamed out to them to come to the pond.
As she heard their footsteps thundering towards her, twigs cracking, birds flying off in alarm, she hooked her free arm under Rufus’s head and drew him closer to her.
All the warnings she’d had from her parents and older brothers about playing by water came back to her in those long moments while she waited for James and Albert to reach her. She should have passed those warnings on to Rufus. He was younger than her, and what could he know about dangers when he had spent all his young life in a safe nursery or driving in a carriage with his mama? She’d brought him here. She was responsible for his death.
Sobbing, she still held on to him, kissing his face, begging his forgiveness for not protecting him. She barely felt the cold water or the midges biting her, she was entirely focused on his sweet young face, and all that they had become to each other.
‘Hope!’ she heard James yell from the far side of the pond. ‘Where are you?’
‘Over here,’ she shrieked back. ‘Rufus has fallen in by an old boat in the reeds. I’m holding him up.’
There was a loud splash as James plunged in, and all at once she saw him swimming through the tangle of water lilies, dark hair slicked back from his face and his eyes mirroring her own terror.
‘I think he’s already dead,’ she managed to stammer out. ‘His face was out of the water when I found him but he’s hit his head.’
James trod water as he looked at Rufus, then he began to swim away on his back, taking the boy with him, supporting him with a hand on either side of his head. ‘Hold on tightly, Hope,’ he called out. ‘I’ll be back for you.’
He disappeared from her view, but she heard Albert’s voice and further splashing as the two men got Rufus up on to the bank.
It seemed a very long time that she waited. Both men’s voices were muted, and it looked to her as though they were so distraught about Rufus that they’d forgotten her. Fear and the cold water made her teeth chatter. It wouldn’t just be her who would be blamed for this, but all the servants. Yet terrible as that was, the thought of Lady Harvey’s grief at losing her only child was worse.
She couldn’t bring herself to call out to remind James she was there and she was too frightened to try to reach shallow water by herself. But all at once James was back, reaching out for her just as he had for Rufus, telling her to lie still and not struggle or she’d pull him under.
Albert’s big hands came under her arms and she was plucked from the water and put down on the bank beside Rufus.