Chapter Six

      ‘I’m being sacked?’

      ‘No, not sacked, Miss Keiver,’ Mrs Boyd hastily interrupted. ‘There will be a vacancy for you here, as a housemaid, should you wish to accept it.’

      ‘But why ... but ...?’

      ‘Enough! A decision has been made and it is not up for discussion.’ Clare Boyd shot a glance at the housekeeper. But it seemed on this occasion no assistance was to be forthcoming from that quarter. Mrs Venner was tight-lipped, staring straight ahead, taking no part in Lucy Keiver’s dismissal. Clare knew that she was effectively dismissing her junior despite having made an offer of alternative work. Lucy was a proud and intelligent young woman who knew she’d given them no reason to treat her shabbily, and rather than be demoted she would pack her bags.

      The trio of women were closeted in the housekeeper’s office. The two senior members of staff were ranged behind a large oak desk; Lucy was seated opposite on a hard-backed chair, her face a study of furious bewilderment.

      ‘What’ve I done wrong?’ Lucy abruptly stood up with a savage shrug. ‘I’ve not moaned or been insubordinate. I’ve done everything you’ve asked and made a good job of it too. I know I have.’

      ‘You were told that you would be on a trial period when you started work here,’ Mrs Venner finally said.

      ‘I know, and I’ve made sure to do me best, so there’d be no complaints about me. Has anybody complained?’ she demanded, frowning.

      ‘They have not,’ Mrs Venner replied stiltedly. ‘But her ladyship knows that Mrs Boyd and I both feel you are not suited to the particular work. Lady Mortimer is in agreement that a position elsewhere should now be offered to you—’

      ‘I don’t want a position elsewhere!’ Lucy interrupted indignantly.

      ‘In that case, Miss Keiver, we accept your resignation, and in the circumstances, as you feel so strongly, you will not be obliged to work out your notice period. You may go today.’ Felicity Venner had been a little unnerved by the forceful arguments issuing from Lucy Keiver. She had imagined the girl might cause a scene by bursting into tears, or pleading for a second chance. But Lucy looked more likely to leap into battle than collapse, snivelling. A significant glance at her partner in crime enquired if Clare had anything further to add before they might speedily end the interview.

      Mrs Boyd cleared her throat, shuffling some paperwork together on the desk in front of her. ‘It seems there’s nothing more to say on the subject. I’m sorry—’

      ‘So you bloomin’ well should be sorry!’ Lucy gritted through her teeth and stormed towards the door.

      ‘A reference will be prepared for you ... and your wages ...’

      ‘I’ll take me pay but you know what you can do with your reference, and if you don’t, I’ll tell you quick enough—’ Lucy suddenly swallowed the rest of her impulsive insolence.

      Her shock and anger had made her oblivious to some of what had been said, but important bits were drifting back into her mind. ‘A vacancy for a housemaid’s come up, has it?’ It was a vital question. ‘So who is it took me job so you can give me theirs?’ She stepped back into the room swinging a narrowed glance between the two stiff-backed, middle-aged women. As the lady’s maid blinked rapidly behind her glasses Lucy grunted a laugh. ‘Well ... well ... I wonder how Audrey Stubbs managed to swing that one,’ she drawled acidly. ‘You know as well as I do that the ding-dong me and Audrey had a while ago, upstairs in her ladyship’s bedroom, was her fault not mine.’ She watched with sour satisfaction as Clare Boyd shifted uncomfortably on her seat. ‘But you’ve gone ahead and got rid of me so you can give her me job. Something fishy’s going on, and I don’t reckon Lord and Lady Mortimer knows the first thing about it.’ She gave a crisp nod. ‘Audrey Stubbs is a wrong’un, and take it from me, you’ve made a bad mistake giving in to her. You’re gonna regret what you’ve done.’

      When the sound of the slamming door had died away Clare continued to avoid Felicity’s eyes but muttered bitterly, ‘How right she is about that.’

      She knew she’d been a fool to allow herself to be seduced by the housekeeper because, once started, and conducted unnoticed, it was an affair that, for her, survived indifference and was easier to carry on than bring to an end.

      When Clare had arrived in London five years ago she’d felt lonely and in need of comfort, having recently been widowed. She’d nursed Bernard at home until he’d died of his war injuries and had found the task mentally and physically gruelling. Before the conflict they had both been in domestic service and had married when barely nineteen. But those few youthful years with an active virile man seemed to Clare just a hazy memory. She would have liked to find another fellow to love, but she’d never been a sought-after beauty, even in her prime. A shortage of men following the carnage of the Great War had left widows and spinsters alike yearning in vain for husbands.

      When Mrs Venner had seemed to single her out as a companion Clare had gratefully lapped up her support and friendship, thinking it was just in the woman’s nature to be kind. Now she knew her better and understood that it hadn’t merely been a friend the housekeeper had been after. Although Felicity Venner styled herself ‘Mrs’, Clare had since learned she had never been married. And the reason for that was obvious to Clare, even if her noble employers deemed it a ruse for respectability rather than a smokescreen.

      Following four years spent as colleagues and lovers, a scheming minx had discovered the shameful truth about them and was using it as a tool for blackmail. Clare knew that Lucy Keiver wasn’t going to be the only person to suffer for Audrey Stubbs’s wickedness.

      ‘Once Miss Keiver has left and Stubbs has taken up her position as my apprentice, I shall find an excuse to tender my notice.’ Clare abruptly got to her feet.

      ‘There is no need to do anything so drastic ...’ Felicity gasped, shooting upright.

      ‘Of course there is!’ Clare struggled to keep her voice low. ‘Stubbs will never stop mocking us, and we will never be rid of the rotten girl now she knows she has us pinned beneath her thumb. Do you really think I will have her working alongside me, tormenting me with every sly look and word?’

      Felicity came over to Clare, attempting to put a comforting arm about her but was immediately shrugged off.

      ‘I’m bitterly ashamed, and worried, and you should be too,’ Clare said bleakly before quitting the room.

      ‘What’s given you such a sour puss?’ Aren’t you pleased to see me on yer afternoon off?’ Tilly beamed at her youngest daughter.

      Lucy had wordlessly sunk down into a battered chair by the table when she’d arrived seconds ago. Instead of the happy chatter Matilda usually received in greeting the moment her daughter turned up on a visit, Lucy had planted her elbows on the table and shielded her dejection with her hands. Realising the door had been left ajar, Matilda limped over, muttering, to shut it and kick the sausage of rags into place at its base. It was unusual for Lucy to be careless on a blustery November day. Keeping everything closed against the cold was standard practice for people used to living in the Bunk. But as she put a hand on the door knob Matilda stood stock-still, having noticed the packing case on the landing, leaning against the wall.

      ‘What’s gone on?’ Matilda gasped, swinging about to confront Lucy.

      ‘Chucked it in,’ Lucy admitted through muffling fingers.

      ‘You done what?’ Matilda roared. ‘Christmas nearly here and you’ve chucked in a good job?’ She hobbled over to Lucy as fast as her aches and pains would allow, and ripped her daughter’s hands away from her cheeks so she could read her expression. ‘What you been up to? You pulled a stroke and got found out?’