Daniel Page 8

  “How soon can you start?”

  “At once, sir. I brought my clothes and things with me.”

  He smiled. “Did you indeed? Well, Penny, I suppose you’ll tell Graydon to look after him till tomorrow.” She nodded.

  Less than half a minute later the butler returned. It seemed like magic. Of course, I knew nothing of bells in those days, and hadn’t noticed the gentleman pulling the bell-cord.

  There is little more to tell of that day. Mr. Miles was sent for. Lady Penelope spoke graciously to him and said she would be happy to send him five pounds if I proved satisfactory. Then he and I parted, without showing our emotional feelings before the company, and the butler took me in charge.

  I spent the evening carrying in logs and splitting them for burning. After supper Mrs. Beddoes took me up to my attic room, where I stowed my belongings, climbed into bed and slept at once. The day, I felt, had gone well.

  I might mention one other trifle. I had fallen head-over-heels in love with Lady Penelope Marston, and wished only to serve her to the last drop of my blood.

  I was up betimes, or so I thought. But the other servants had already dispersed to their work and in the kitchen I found no one except Mrs. Beddoes and the scullery maid. I had just finished a generous plate of eggs, sausages and bacon when Mr. Graydon came to summon me to Lady Penelope in the morning room. She was writing at her desk, and looked up as I came in.

  “Daniel,” she said, “I’ve sent to the tailors in Bath. Two of their people will be here early this afternoon to measure you for your uniform. Until then, Mr. Graydon will give you some useful work to be getting on with,” She turned back to her writing and I bowed and withdrew.

  I spent the morning polishing silver and replacing the burned ends of candles in the candlesticks about the house.

  The tailors arrived soon after servants’ dinner. Lady Penelope received them in a small parlour off the drawing-room. They were so extremely deferential that I was hard put to it not to smile.

  “Of course it will be our great pleasure, your ladyship to fit the young man out completely in accordance with your esteemed wishes. We have brought several samples of our latest and most genteel uniform materials and we hope you will be graciously pleased to inspect them and give us your highly-valued instructions.”

  Lady Penelope took her time in looking at the various materials and patterns, while the tailors took my measurements.

  At length she selected two; a plum-coloured, velvet and a royal blue corduroy. A coat, cap and breeches were to be made from each, the coats to have silver buttons, with collars and cuffs embroidered with silver thread. On the lapels and on the left breast were to be small emblems in the form of silver dolphins

  Having settled all this, Lady Penelope disconcertingly went the length of asking me whether I agreed with her choice. Of course I expressed warm approval.

  “No criticisms?” she said, eyebrows raised in a smiling pretence of surprise.

  I returned her smile. “Not one, your ladyship.”

  Finally, she told the men to return with the clothes ready for a fitting at the same day and time next week: she trusted there would be no delay. (“Oh dear no, your ladyship; it will be our pleasure to be entirely punctual.”) Mrs. Beddoes was summoned and told to give them a meal before they left. I joined them below stairs and sat not far away, polishing shoes. They had nothing to say to me; I received the impression that they found Lady Penelope’s schedule distinctly exacting, though this they kept to themselves.

  Earlier that day, at dinner, (when I was sitting, of course, at the extreme foot of the table), Mr. Gray don had briefly told the other servants that I was on approval for the post of page to her ladyship. No one had anything to say to this (such as that I was black), and I kept my eyes down and concentrated on my plate of Irish stew and greens.

  I was beginning to grasp that a major reason for Lady Penelope’s servants to feel contented was the quantity and quality of the victuals. This dinner, like many others I was later to enjoy, fully deserved our concentration and there was very little talk.

  As I settled into my humble position in the household and began to take notice of the surroundings and the company, I came to understand the hierarchy and those of whom it consisted. By the standards of those days it was not a large establishment, and this was tacitly reflected in the demeanour of its chief, the butler. Mr. Graydon was not exacting in handling his people. The reason, as I came to realise, was that he was not happy in his situation, and accordingly remained somewhat detached from it. He was self-seeking, and thought his talents made him worthy to head a bigger household. So while he took care always to appear correct and diligent, he felt that he was not living the life to which he aspired. His heart was not in what he was doing; and although he supposed that his discontent lay concealed, in fact it was apparent. The servants exploited it. They were often negligent, and sometimes guilty of liberties for which even I could see that they should have been taken to task.

  Grace Hobden, Lady Penelope’s personal maid, and I were under her direct orders, and in this position of being “among them yet not altogether of them”, I was well placed to observe the community. It seemed to me that the two footmen, Hayward and Lister, must have opted for domestic service primarily to keep themselves off the land. They did as little as they could get away with; and since they were tall young men of good appearance, they passed muster easily enough. Lister found time to teach me to play cribbage. He and Hayward talked of little but their sexual exploits, which I reckoned existed largely in their own heads.

  There were two parlourmaids and two housemaids, all engaged, it seemed to me, on the strength of being what are called “steady girls”. With two of them, Mary and Edith, I became in time quite friendly. I was their “little blackamoor”, and they used to make my bed and wash my shirts and stockings.

  Mrs. Beddoes was the best cook I have ever known and well aware of her gift. Of course, everybody took care to keep on the right side of her, and her popularity made her amiable and good-tempered. “Come on, young Dan’l,” she would say. “Do a bit of churning for me and you can have a lump of butter on the new bread, soon as I’ve baked it.” During all the time that I was in that household I never had a bad meal. Even Lady Penelope herself sometimes deferred to what Mrs. Beddoes thought would comprise the best menu for a dinner party.

  Mr. Hodges was the head stableman and coachman, with two grooms under him. He and his wife lived in a sizeable cottage adjoining the stable-yard. Their infant daughter, Marian, had been born about two years before my arrival. Their firstborn, a son (as I was told) had died some years before. I, of course, had little to do with Mrs. Hodges, but whenever I spoke with her she was always kindly and agreeable.

  Naturally, being in constant attendance on Lady Penelope, I saw a good deal of the horses, of which there were six altogether. In spite of Josh, I have never known much about horses, but I do know that Lady Penelope’s were widely admired.

  Miss Osborne, the housekeeper, was a warm and kindly soul. She knew how to make people work for her, and was sometimes not above lending her girls a hand; or even, on occasion, deputising for Mrs. Beddoes.

  I need not describe every member of the staff - the gardeners, bootboy, scullery maid and so forth, except to say that they went to make up what seemed to me a comfortable society. Lady Penelope, though not indulgent, was not an unduly exacting employer and in any case (as I shall relate) she was away from home a good deal. She certainly made good use of me. On occasion, as when she went out for the evening and came home late, my work could be onerous indeed, but with health and energy on my side - plus my adoration of Lady Penelope – I could just about contrive to cope with it.

  The principal feature conditioning my life was simply that I was black. This put me in an ambiguous position. On the one hand, although it was not so humiliating as being a slave in Virginia, I knew that these white people, lenient and restrained as they were, in their hearts looked down on me as one
of an inferior race. As long as I behaved respectfully and took care to be deferential they had nothing against me; but sometimes the mask slipped. “Get out of the way, you bloody nigger!” gasped Hayward one morning, when he was struggling to carry indoors a heavy sack of potatoes. Another time, when Mr. Graydon asked who had left the back door wide open to an east wind, Lister replied that it was that confounded page boy, who needed his black arse kicked. I felt this kind of contempt keenly, but I knew better than to complain. If insults were the common lot of black people, at least there was some compensation for me personally.

  The compensation lay in the fact that Lady Penelope plainly thought of me as a valuable possession, rather like a diamond ring or a gold watch. Just as Mr. Miles had told me, my mere presence contributed to her self-esteem and her elegance. Though demanding, she was not inconsiderate; and besides, what mitigated her most peremptory demands was that in my eyes she was a demi-deity. I thought the world of her and considered myself lucky indeed to be her bedizened attendant. My flamboyant uniforms were a delight to me and even when I was almost dropping with weariness I never forgot that I held a unique position in her regard. I was hers as the other servants could not be.

  One morning, when I had been in the household for about six weeks, she told me that she was going away on a visit and I was to come with her: we would be starting early in the afternoon. It wasn’t, of course, my place to ask where we were going or how long we would be away. I did up a couple of clean shirts, two pairs of stockings and a few other things in a bundle and was waiting with Mr. Hodges beside the light carriage and pair half an hour before she joined us, attended by Grace Hobden.

  My seat was beside Mr. Hodges on the box, my uniform swathed in a light cloak against the dust. “But if it comes on to rain, Daniel,” she said, “you’re to come inside. If you want to pass water, go and do it now, before we start,” This was typical of her straightforward altruism and candour.

  So away we went. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun glinting on the leaves as we passed the woodland on the further side of the house. I thought it best to keep quiet and leave it to Mr. Hodges to speak first if he had a mind to. It was some time before, having spat out a mouthful of tobacco, he said, “So ‘ow d’you like your job, boy, eh?”

  “Very much, sir, thank you,” I replied.

  “Your first job, is it?”

  “First in this country, sir.”

  “Ah,” he said, and relapsed into silence.

  After a good hour – as it seemed to me – we came to a ford and he stopped to let the horses drink. As they finished he called “Log on” and they pulled us out on the further side, up a gravelly slope to a crossroads. He pointed with his whip at the signpost. “What’s that say, boy?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t read very well, sir.”

  “Then you’d best set to and learn quick as what you can. ‘Can’t get far in life without you can read and write, you know.”

  “I know the letters, sir. But there’s no one to teach me the rest, you see.”

  “Why don’t you ask her ladyship?”

  “You don’t mean, ask her to teach me, sir, surely?”

  “No, no, but to tell summun off to do it.”

  “Well, I’d hardly like to ask even that, sir. I don’t think it would really be my place to do that.”

  “You can leave it to me, boy. I’ll ask her.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Hodges, sir. That’s very kind of you.”

  He said no more, and after some time we came to an inn, where we stopped to change horses. Lady Penelope got out, gave me her bag and strolled a little way up the road. I followed behind.

  “Oh, the heat,” she said, to no one in particular. “Daniel, give me my fan.”

  She leaned on a low wall, fanning herself, yawning and closing her eyes.

  Presently she said, “Go and ask them for a glass of milk, Daniel, the colder the better.”

  They gave me a glass straight from the dairy and she drank most of it without pausing.

  “You finish it, Daniel,” she said, handing it back to me with a smile. I thanked her and did so.

  Resuming our journey, we hadn’t gone far before Hodges said, “You know where we’re going, boy, I suppose?”

  “No, sir, no one’s told me.”

  “Guildford, that’s where.” He paused. “But we won’t be going into the town. Her ladyship’s friend lives a mile or so outside. We’ll be staying two nights. She told you that much, I suppose?”

  “No, she didn’t, sir. I’m glad to know.”

  Some time later he once more broke silence. “I reckon she ought to get married again, fine-looking woman like ’er. ’Tain’t in nature, like, ’er living alone. Ah.” He seemed to be hesitating. Then he said, “You know what I reckon?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I reckon she wants keep her own ’and on ’er money, that’s what. ‘Can’t say as I blames ’er altogether, eether.”

  To me it seemed a long journey. We changed horses again and the day was beginning to cool when at last we turned off the road, drove up a short avenue and stopped in front of a handsome house all of grey stone, its walls covered here and there with purple-blooming creeper. Lady Penelope alighted. Grace and I fell in behind her and Mr. Hodges, going ahead, was about to knock on the door when it was opened by the gentleman who had been with her on the afternoon when I had come to be engaged as her page.

  “Penny!” he cried delightedly. “I was watching out for you! I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

  “Hot, but otherwise quite enjoyable, dear Francis,” she replied, put an arm round his neck and kissed his cheek.

  The butler was hovering in the hall. He took charge of Grace and of Lady Penelope’s luggage, leaving Hodges to drive round to the stable-yard. I followed Lady Penelope into the drawing-room and went to stand at the farthest end. On a nearby writing-desk I noticed two opened envelopes and just managed to puzzle out that one was addressed (in block letters) to “Francis Hardwick, Esquire.”

  “So you kept your black page?” he asked her. “He suits you all right, does he?”

  “Oh, yes,” she answered carelessly. “Francis, will the architect be coming?”

  “Yes, tomorrow morning. John Stedman. I think you’ll like him. Good reputation, and very keen to take on the job.”

  When they had settled themselves in the armchairs, I sat down in a bay window. A tea-tray was brought in and the maid brought me a glass of water, which I was glad to accept.

  Mr. Hardwick and Lady Penelope fell into lively conversation, to which I was careful to be seen to pay no attention. For the matter of that, I wasn’t interested. What little I couldn’t help hearing seemed to be about some sort of building, but I was content to watch the starlings running on the lawn and the cat absurdly trying to catch them. After some time, Mr. Hardwick suggested a stroll in the garden, and Lady Penelope dismissed me below stairs. The two or three girls in the kitchen had apparently never seen a black person before, and remained virtually tongue-tied as I did my best to talk to them, getting very little for my trouble beyond silly giggles and embarrassed Yes’s and No’s. After a while I went outside, sat in the sunny stable-yard and watched the martins building under the eaves.

  That night I found my bed comfortable enough. After a meagre breakfast next morning, finding the servants’ company no more friendly than the evening before, I went out again into the yard. It was some while before the butler summoned me to join Lady Penelope and Mr. Hardwick at his carriage. I sat with the coachman, of course. We drove through the city of Guildford and stopped somewhere on the further outskirts. As I was climbing down, Mr. Hardwick put out his hand and helped me, smiling as he did so.

  “Do you like looking after Lady Penelope, Daniel?” he asked.

  So he had actually taken the trouble to learn my name! I could hardly look him in the eye. Still, I managed a smile as I answered. He seemed about to say more, but then turned his attention to a smartly-dressed
young man carrying a portfolio, who came up to us, took off his hat and bowed to Lady Penelope.

  “This is Mr. Stedman, the architect,” said Mr. Hardwick. “Mr. John Stedman, Lady Penelope Marston.” While they shook hands and spoke together, I slipped away a few yards and stood waiting.

  ‘“You’ve been told what I have in mind, Mr. Stedman, have you not?” asked Lady Penelope.

  “Yes, your ladyship,” he answered. “It’s greatly to your ladyship’s credit, if I may say so. I’ve brought a few outlines — just initial sketches, you know — to show you. Mr. Hardwick has already seen them and been kind enough to give his approval.”

  “And this is the site?” she asked, turning to look at the open field a little to our right.

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  “Daniel, go and open the gate.”

  I held it open as they walked into the field.

  “And I own this?” she asked.

  “The conveyance only needs your signature, Penny,” said Mr. Hardwick. “The land’s all yours down to that little stream at the bottom.”

  They strolled away and I followed behind. There was much pointing here and there, discussion and display of the contents of the portfolio. After a little it was borne in upon me that what they were talking about was building in that field. Lady Penelope had a great deal to say and was evidently questioning Mr. Stedman closely. His answers apparently satisfied her for as he spoke she nodded agreement more than once.

  They spent a considerable time walking round the field and when at last we returned, it was to find the coachman leading the restless, unharnessed horses up and down the road. Lady

  Penelope seemed in excellent spirits.

  “You’ll let me know about the money, won’t you?” she said to Mr. Stedman. “I’ll let you have whatever you need now by way of an advance. Francis, you say the mayor and the town clerk are dining with us?”

  “Yes, at four o’clock, Penny,” he replied.

  “And Mr. Stedman is coming too?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.”