“You’re certain there were none at all?”
“None, Ma’am. All gone off to the war, Miss Hastings said.” repeated Harriet, the tallest of the five well-dressed maidservants.
“But how incredibly inconvenient this all is!” Lady Ashwater wailed. “I absolutely must have a new gardener by spring! Perhaps not one of particular quality, certainly we must all make little sacrifices in these troubled times, but one of competence at least, else the grounds will run completely wild! And I don’t know what Tabitha was thinking, sending me an extra maid instead. What am I going to do with five of you?”
Jessica’s heart jumped to her throat. Neither she nor any of the other girls had been particularly excited to convey the news that the gardener Lady Ashwater had ordered from the agency could not be had, but they’d been assured profusely that a respectable maidservant position would be guaranteed for each of them. Miss Hastings was beginning to look as if she weren’t as reliable an agent as her reputation suggested. Jessica tried to stand up as straight as possible at the end of the line. One of the other girls would just have to be sent back. She needed this job. Her family needed this job. Her poor mother approached destitution, and already worked herself to the bone doing laundry to make ends meet. Jessica couldn’t fail her again.
“Jess can garden a bit, Ma’am.” Marcia’s voice struck a chill down Jessica’s spine and she was unable to stop herself bending forward and glaring down the line. The younger maid’s face tipped into view and winked with a friendly smile, apparently indifferent to Jessica’s barely concealed panic and resentment. Jessica stood up straight again and bit her tongue as her prospective employer loomed into view above her.
“Jessica… Hocking, is it?” Lady Ashwater referred to the neatly creased letter in her hand. Her ladyship was an older woman, though not what Jessica would call plain old. Her slight advantage in height was boosted by her high heeled boots, leading her to tower at least five inches over Jessica herself. Her hair was greying; streaks of silver running through the tight brunette bun that topped her angular, lined face and pursed lips. Her wardrobe famously favoured the colour green, and on this occasion she was wearing a bottle-green day dress. It was rather plain as such things went, and yet even without the matching gloves it would have cost several times what Jessica stood to make in a year.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Jessica tried to sound as deferential as possible, and curtseyed tentatively.
“And is this true? That you have some little gardening experience?”
“Oh, um… just greenhouse vegetables really, Ma’am.” Jessica struggled to hide her embarrassment. “And I designed the maid school’s entry to the town flower show…”
“This year’s? With the Geraniums?” Lady Ashwater raised an eyebrow.
“Oh… no, Ma’am. Last year’s. With the sweet peas.”
“I see. I rather liked that one, as I remember.” Her ladyship mused. “Hmm. Yes. Perhaps we will have to make do. I will need to think about this. You are dismissed for the moment, Hocking; but be at my chambers at two o’clock precisely this afternoon. Mrs Breadworth can show you the way if you don’t know it.” She gestured to the aged, cotton-capped housekeeper who was standing to attention nearby and nodded silently at Jessica. “For the moment I would like to speak with the other girls a little more. Well what are you waiting for? Go! Take a walk in the gardens to familiarise yourself if you want to be useful!”
Jessica decided not to test her ladyship’s patience and scurried out through the french window into the crisp autumn air.
~
At around ten to two, Jessica sought out the housekeeper, Mrs Breadworth, and was promptly shown to an imposing looking locked door on the upper floor of the house. The older woman gestured to the clock on the wall and told Jessica in no uncertain terms not to knock until two o’clock precisely, as her ladyship would no doubt be busy. Taking this advice to heart with a little pang of fear, Jessica took to standing dutifully outside the door and trying to stay as quiet as possible. On the opposite side of the landing there was a full-length mirror, and she tried to concern herself with straightening her uniform, which despite her best efforts had crumpled a little during her sojourn into the grounds.
Her reflection was thin and short, the result of a childhood of uncertain nutrition. Consequently she hadn’t much of a figure to gawk at, and in truth it had made finding an appropriately sized uniform a little difficult at the agency. Above her torso sat her incredibly plain face with its snub nose and ovoid lips, marked all over with the freckles she always worried made her look like a child. Her dull green eyes stared out from under her low-cut fringe, an idea of Miss Hastings’ much like the french braid that was the only other notable feature of her ginger head of hair. All in all, Jessica wasn’t displeased with how she looked, but she reasoned it would take a lot more effort on the part of her outfit to make her look anywhere near as glamorous as Lady Ashwater could manage in a conservative day dress.
She looked up at the clock in the reflection. It was almost two! Her mouth dry, Jessica raised her hand to the imposing door and knocked twice, politely but not too quietly, as she had been taught.
“Come in.” Her ladyship’s voice sounded from inside. Heart pounding, Jessica turned the handle and stepped into the private chambers…
“Ah, Hocking. Perfect timing.” Lady Ashwater was reclining on a lounge chair in a small sitting room inside. Her outfit was much the same as it had been save that she had gained a silver fur ruff that lay lazily about her neck. Standing up straight nearby was an older, moustachioed man whose uniform suggested he must be the house butler.
“Hardly an appropriate costume.” Lady Ashwater said thinly. “But then I suppose you’ve nothing else, have you, having just arrived? Never mind, that can all be sorted out soon enough. This is my butler, Mr Rathbone. I’ve asked him to be here to help with the finer details of this thorny issue.”
“Um… thorny, Ma’am?” Jessica inquired timidly.
“Oh yes, very.” Lady Ashwater replied offhandedly. “But there was no real getting around it. We do need a gardener for the spring season forward, and even with Carte Blanche to make full and proper use of my husband’s money it’s simply not economical to hire on the service men long term. The gardener position is yours, if you’ll have it.”
Jessica was taken aback. Certainly, she’d always had a green thumb but… gardener ? To a proper lord and lady? She felt suffocatingly out of her depth. Surely she wasn’t qualified! Was it better to chance it and try to keep her head above water? Or politely decline to avoid embarrassing the Ashwaters? Lord Ashwater was something high up in the war office, that much she knew- would a scandal concerning her incompetence put his position in jeopardy?
“That’s, um… very kind of you, Ma’am…” She said, still stumbling about her answer.
“Good.” Her ladyship smiled. “That’s settled then. I hope you can rise to the challenge, Hocking; though I think it best that we temper our expectations for the first year. Just keep the grounds tidy and presentable and go with something tried and true when you’re planting, and we’ll account for your inexperience just at the moment, shall we?”
“Oh I, um, no I didn’t-” Jessica made to protest.
“The salary, as you may know, is thirty pounds.” Lady Ashwater continued. “And after some consideration and deliberation with Rathbone here, I have decided that despite your inexperience and potential… unsuitability, you will be paid the full amount.”
This stopped Jessica’s pleading dead. Thirty pounds??? That was almost three times as much as she’d have been making as a maid! It seemed almost too good to be true! Thirty pounds salary could easily keep her family in food… and then some! They might even be able to afford a nicer house in time! Jessica nearly stopped herself from opening her mouth, fearing that expressing any incredulity might burst the illusion of this fortuitous moment like a soap bubble, but she had to know…
“The full amount, Ma’am?”
“Yes, the full thirty pounds. Far more than your services are worth, of course, but consider the difference to be… compensation. For the inconveniences you will unfortunately have to be subjected to as part of the role.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was any inconvenience at all, Ma’am…” Jessica struggled to hide the delight from her voice as she politely refused the descriptor in what she hoped was close enough to the expected manner.
“I rather think it will be, Hocking.” Lady Ashwater stood up and sauntered over to tower over Jessica once again. The new gardener shivered a little as she felt the analytical eye and the distant, but firm, touch of the older woman upon her body, both expressing some odd, inscrutable intent, almost like… almost like wickedness , Jessica thought. Rathbone had approached too and was also examining her from top to bottom, though he was easier to read and his gaze had more of the dispassionate evaluator to it. Altogether she felt suddenly quite uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure I quite understand…” she began.
“Of course.” Lady Ashwater sounded just the faintest bit apologetic. “You see Hocking, I understand that these are… strange times that we live in, and that we all must be prepared to push the boundaries of our own comfort to keep everything more or less moving nicely, what with the war on, of course, but there are some things that, even in this time of relaxed inhibitions, simply will not do. Things that it would be unseemly to be perceived by one’s peers to have done, and potentially greatly damaging to one’s reputation, you understand.”
“Like...like what, your ladyship?” Jessica squeaked.
“I’m afraid, Hocking.” said Lady Ashwater, placing a firm hand on Jessica’s hip in a way that forced the younger woman to suppress a yelp of surprise. “That in the circles in which it is my lot to move it absolutely would not be proper to be seen to employ a female gardener, and certainly not a girl of… what, eighteen?”
“Nineteen, Ma’am.” Jessica suddenly felt very apprehensive.
“Nineteen. A girl more suited to the role of maidservant, and indeed interviewed for such a role. No no. Professional gardening, Hocking, is a decidedly male domain, and it comes with corresponding appearances to keep up. Consequently, you will report to Mr Rathbone, not to Mrs Breadworth, while you are here, and as far as your personal presentation goes… well, we will need to make some necessary adjustments…”
Flanked between the looming Lady Ashwater and the stern Mr Rathbone, Jessica suddenly began to feel very frightened indeed.