The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
to behold, so I understand,’ said Blackie, unconsciously throwing back his shoulders. ‘He’s a big man and strong, me Uncle Pat is, but it took all of his great strength, indeed it did! The Squire could have been killed, sure and he could, if it hadn’t been for me Uncle Pat. And mighty dangerous it was. Why, me Uncle Pat was almost trampled under the horse and maimed for life.’
Blackie gave Emma a knowing look. ‘Anyway, mavourneen, the Squire was grateful, as I said, and impressed with me Uncle Pat’s bravery and he wanted to reward him—’ Blackie shook his head and went on scoffingly, ‘Me Uncle Pat, well, he wouldn’t be taking the money. “Only a heathen takes money for the saving of a man’s life,” so says me Uncle Pat to the Squire. So, the Squire, out of his eternal gratitude, gives us the work and recommends us,’ Blackie finished triumphantly, nodding his head. ‘And glad we are to be getting it, mavourneen.’
‘Yer Uncle Pat must be very brave,’ said Emma. She pondered for a moment and then her mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘Well, I hope yer charge the Squire plenty, and them that he recommends,’ she commented with acerbity.
‘Why, Emma Harte! What a thing to be saying,’ cried Blackie, feigning horror. He concealed his amusement and exclaimed, ‘I can see ye are growing up to be a real hard-headed Yorkshire lass.’
‘The tea’s ready,’ announced Cook, interrupting their conversation. ‘Emma, get out the best cups and saucers, and put the best lace cloth on the table, being as it’s Sunday and we’ve got company.’ Cook waddled over with the tea tray. ‘What can I do to be helping ye, Mrs Turner?’ asked Blackie, standing up.
‘Nowt, lad. Sit yerself down. We’ll have it all ready in two ticks.’ She bustled away, returning a few seconds later with another tea tray laden with plates of thick ham sandwiches, slices of delicious veal-and-ham pie, hot sausage rolls, small dishes of pickled onions, beetroot, and piccalilli, warm buttered scones, blackberry jam, and a giant-sized caraway-seed cake.
‘I swear I’ve never set eyes on a tea party like this, Mrs Turner. Faith and that’s the truth,’ said Blackie. ‘Ye have outdone yeself, Mrs Turner, me darlin’. Sure and it’s the finest spread I’ve ever seen.’
‘Sounds ter me as if yer kissed the Blarney stone afore yer left Ireland,’ said Cook, but her eyes were laughing and full of fun. She glanced at Blackie warmly and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Aay, get on with yer, lad. There’s nowt ter be gained from flattering an old body like me.’
At this moment, Annie, the between maid, came down the steps from the upstairs quarters. Tall and robust, with a creamy pink-and-white complexion, flaxen hair, and pale blue eyes, Annie looked for all the world like the typical buxom milkmaid and her manner was also decidedly bovine. Emma, putting out the cups and saucers, looked up. ‘Did yer finish upstairs, Annie? Is everything all right, luv?’ Annie nodded slowly, but her usually placid expression had disappeared, which Emma noticed instantly. ‘Come ter the sink and wash yer hands then, luv, and we’ll be having our teas,’ Emma went on hurriedly, manoeuvring Annie across the kitchen, and out of Cook’s earshot. ‘Did yer break summat, luv?’ asked Emma.
‘No, Emma. I was ever so careful, like yer told me ter be,’ said Annie.
‘Well, what’s wrong, then? Yer look worried to death. I can see yer not yerself.’
‘It’s Mrs Fairley,’ Annie whispered conspiratorially. ‘She fair give me a right turn, she did that, Emma.’
‘What happened?’ Emma turned on the tap and made a show of washing her hands to drown out their voices.
‘I went up ter see the missis, like yer told me ter, after I’d finished setting the table. But when I knocked on her door she didn’t answer. Anyroads, I went in ter the sitting room, and there she was, sitting in the dark, talking a mile a minute—’
‘So what’s wrong with that?’ interrupted Emma impatiently.
‘Yer don’t understand, Emma! There was nobody there with her. She was talking ter the empty chair,’ whispered Annie, her eyes like saucers.
‘Nay, Annie luv. That can’t be so. Maybe Mrs Wainright was there. Perhaps she was somewhere in the room and yer didn’t notice,’ countered Emma with a deep frown, although she guessed, as she spoke, that this was probably not the case.
‘Mrs Wainright’s not back from Kirkend,’ murmured Annie. ‘Anyroads, when Mrs Fairley sees me, she stops talking ter the chair. I asked her if she wanted her tea, ever so polite like, as yer told me ter be. She said she didn’t, but ter tell yer she’ll have her dinner in her room later,’ said Annie. She began to breathe a little more easily, now that she was safely back in the kitchen.
‘I’d best go up ter see her,’ said Emma worriedly.
‘No, yer don’t have ter, Emma. The missis told me she was tired, so I helped her ter bed. She laid herself down and was off in a few minutes—’ Annie stopped and took hold of Emma’s arm. ‘Emma—’ she began hesitatingly, and paused again.
‘Yes, luv, what is it now?’ asked Emma.
‘Mrs Fairley smelled ever so funny. She smelled of whisky. Least I think it was,’ confided Annie.
Emma’s eyes narrowed, but she adopted a sceptical tone. ‘Oh, Annie, yer must be imagining things.’
‘No, I’m not. Honest, Emma!’
Emma glared at Annie. ‘First of all, how do yer knows what whisky smells like, Annie Stead? All yer dad sups is beer.’ She gave Annie a penetrating look, and added protectively, ‘Mrs Fairley has a special medicine that she takes. That’s what yer smelled, Annie Stead.’
‘If yer say so,’ said Annie, for she was in awe of Emma, and also afraid of her. Nonetheless, she found the courage to add, ‘Still, the missis was talking ter herself. Make no mistake about that!’
Emma, who felt compelled to defend Adele Fairley, thought quickly, and said with a small, knowing smile, ‘Come ter think of it, Mrs Fairley often reads aloud ter herself. That’s probably what she was doing when yer went in ter see her. Yer just didn’t notice the book, that’s all.’ She gave Annie such a threatening look the girl blanched and shrank away. ‘But if yer that concerned, I’ll go up and see her right now,’ remarked Emma coolly.
Annie shook her head. ‘No! No! Leave her be, Emma. She was fast asleep when I left her a few minutes ago.’
‘Now, there, lasses! What’s all this ’ere whispering by the sink. Yer knows I don’t like that sort of thing,’ cried Mrs Turner crossly. She clapped her hands. ‘Emma! Annie! Come ’ere at once and get yer teas. I won’t have that there whispering!’
‘Don’t say owt ter Cook,’ Emma cautioned. She turned off the tap, dried her hands, and attempted to look unconcerned. So Annie has smelled the drink, too, Emma thought with dismay. But, as she sat down at the table, she acknowledged to herself that there was no point in going upstairs, if Mrs Fairley was sleeping. That’s the best thing for her right now, Emma decided, with her usual common sense.
Under Blackie’s ebullient influence Emma soon cheered up. He was a marvellous raconteur and he kept them laughing during tea with his amusing stories and teasings. Emma found she was able to put Adele Fairley out of her mind completely, and she began to enjoy herself as much as the others. She laughed a great deal, much to Blackie’s satisfaction. In his opinion, Emma was always too serious by far, so that he derived great pleasure from her gaiety.
The atmosphere was frivolous, and the kitchen rang with Blackie’s boisterous laughter, the girls’ high-pitched giggles and squeals of delight, and Cook’s occasional reprimands ‘ter keep the noise down’, uttered goodnaturedly enough through her own pealing laughter.
When they had finished eating, Emma said, ‘Sing us a song, Blackie. Will yer, please?’
‘Sure and I will, mavourneen. And what will ye pleasure be?’
‘Would