Tina

by Nora Kay

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

Annie Fullerton is only a housemaid, but when her master's pampered daughter needs help, it's Annie she turns to. Emily is going to have a baby, and in Victorian Perthshire there is no worse disgrace for an unmarried girl. The two girls go into hiding in a charming Kincardineshire village and before long, Emily decides to defy her father and keep her child. Annie is delighted: she vividly remembers the pain of life in an orphanage. But it is not to be. In the end, it is Annie who takes baby Tina and gives her a home. Annie loves Tina and is happy to give up her chances to have children of her own for the adorble little girl. But babies grow up, and all too soon Tina is a young woman as pretty and determined as the mother she never knew. For Annie the time is coming for a decision that could break her heart.

Release date: April 25, 2013

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 432

Sample

The strident sound of the bell ringing was an unwelcome disturbance. Mrs Martin, cook-housekeeper at Denbrae House, had just that minute made herself comfortable in the only chair with arms and a cushion for her back. Her poor, swollen, aching feet were on the wooden stool.

‘Would you credit that,’ she muttered crossly and jerked her head to see which of the rooms was demanding attention. ‘Annie,’ she shouted.

A head popped round the door. ‘What is it, Mrs Martin?’

‘Anyone else there or is it just you?’

‘Just me.’

‘Then you’ll need to take yourself upstairs and see what is wanted.’

Annie sighed but silently. She had been on her feet since half past five in the morning and this was supposed to be a quiet time. With luncheon over, the dining-room table cleared and the dishes washed, the maids looked forward to a short break before their other duties claimed them.

Denbrae House stood on slightly raised ground with the Perthshire hills swelling up in the background. It was a substantially built property which earned the description of a small mansion. Situated on the outskirts of the pretty little town of Greenhill in Perthshire the house held a commanding position. Greenhill was a quiet country town described by some as genteel. The well-off lived there and it also found favour with those seeking a pleasant place in which to spend their retirement. An added attraction was its nearness to Perth and with Dundee not so many miles away. Both cities were well served with quality shops and stores.

On the instructions of the master who felt it was more welcoming, the ornamental gates to Denbrae House were usually left open. The house was approached by a long drive lined with flowering shrubs and ending in a broad carriage sweep. Marble steps led to the heavy oak door and ivy and wistaria grew up the walls and circled the attic windows. Tall mature trees stood like sentries and were just far enough away from the windows not to block out the light. To the back of the house were smooth lawns and walkways and a flight of worn stone steps led down to a sunken garden. All were kept neat by two gardeners and numerous helpers.

Denbrae House was home to Alfred Cunningham-Brown and his wife Maud. After many years in India that had added greatly to their inherited wealth, they returned to Denbrae House in 1895 and now five years later were well settled and enjoying life. Too young to retire and happily enjoying good health, Alfred Cunningham-Brown was heavily involved in local affairs and chaired a number of committees. His wife, Maud, had agreed though half-heartedly it had to be said, to give her support to one or two organisations but rarely put in an appearance at the meetings. She disliked speaking in public and since her voice didn’t carry she was in no demand as a speaker. Her donations, however, were much appreciated and all agreed that she was a charming and generous lady. She was quite incapable of making a decision and those that had to be made were left to her husband. The running of the house was left to Mrs Martin. There was no housekeeper, the woman once employed in that capacity had been a disaster. She would have made an excellent sergeant-major having the voice and manner of one. Mrs Martin could stand it no longer and threatened to give in her notice if matters didn’t improve. The maids were frequently reduced to tears. Maud, forced to a decision in this instance, decided a good cook would be more difficult to replace. In the end the housekeeper had to go.

Delighted with her victory, Mrs Martin had suggested to the mistress that she should take over the management of the house as well as being in charge of the kitchen. Maud found no objection to this and regarding extra staff Mrs Martin was given a free hand. There were three resident maids, Annie, Bella and Mary. A scullery-maid came in daily as did a woman who did the scrubbing. Mrs Rafferty, a widow who had once been a cook, came in for a few hours to assist in the kitchen. If there were little upsets they were never allowed to get serious and on the whole they all got on well together.

The Cunningham-Browns had three of a family. The children had been born in India and had spent their early years in that country before returning to Scotland to be educated. The eldest was eighteen-year-old Emily who after completing her schooling in St Andrews had refused to spend a year at a finishing school in Switzerland. Maud made mild protests but wasn’t upset. It would be nice to have her daughter at home and she had no need to feel guilty since Emily had been given the chance and declined.

In appearance Emily took after her mother. She was quite tall and slender and had long, golden-fair hair that curled naturally. Her skin was perfect and looked like ivory touched with the delicate pink of a rose. Her eyes were a clear grey and fringed with thick dark lashes. Maud and Alfred were very proud of their lovely daughter. None of their friends’ daughters were nearly as pretty, a few were decidedly plain and the despair of their parents who were frantically trying to marry them off when the girls had at least youth on their side.

There were no such worries for Alfred and Maud. Emily had more than her fair share of admirers and in time she would make her choice. The young men who came about the house were all eminently suitable and Emily’s parents were in no doubt that she would make a good marriage.

The two boys, Michael sixteen and Robert fourteen, were at boarding school in Edinburgh. They were likeable but boisterous and Maud confessed to her friends that her head ached from the first day of the holidays to the last. Much as she loved the mischievous pair it was a relief to see the trunks packed and the boys despatched to school.

Annie could see that the summons had come from the upstairs sitting-room used by the family when they were on their own. It wouldn’t do to keep whoever it was waiting and Annie left the kitchen and hurried along the passageway with its dreary brown linoleum and drab walls. The dreariness ended when Annie passed through a small archway. Then it was like slipping into another world. Paintings covered much of the cream-coloured walls and the carpet was soft underfoot. Annie caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and patted her fine, flyaway hair into place. In another few moments she had reached the beautiful curved stairway at the front of the house. Out of breath after hurrying and climbing the stairs, Annie walked along to the family sitting-room, knocked and entered.

Annie Fullerton was twenty-three and Denbrae House had been home to her since the Cunningham-Browns had taken her into their employ. A member of the board of Craigieview Orphanage, Alfred, perhaps to show an example to others, had taken one of its orphans to be a scullery-maid in his home. A willing and intelligent girl who never complained or gave any trouble, Annie had quickly risen from the position of scullery-maid to housemaid.

She was neither plain nor pretty, just very ordinary. Her light brown hair was parted in the middle and swept back from a smooth forehead. She was very thin and her eyes, her best feature, were a soft brown.

At Denbrae House the custom was for the master and mistress to retire to their bedroom after the midday meal. This was a habit acquired when living abroad. A sociable couple they enjoyed entertaining and being entertained. Those guests staying for a few days or longer and who themselves had spent years in India, were usually more than happy to retire to their bedroom for an hour or so. Others who had only known the Scottish climate were not so accommodating. To them a rest in the middle of the day was unthinkable and a complete waste of time. There was a time for bed and it wasn’t during the day. Only the very young and the very old could be excused.

Sometimes Emily took the dogs for a walk across the fields but if she didn’t feel like it she left it for someone else and instead relaxed with a book.

She looked up when the door opened.

‘Thank goodness it is you, Annie, I didn’t want anyone else. Come in, don’t stand there and make sure the door is shut. No, on second thoughts go back down again and bring a pot of tea. I know it is early but I feel like one. And, Annie?’

Annie turned round.

‘Make that two cups.’

‘Two cups, Miss Emily?’

‘That’s what I said, two cups,’ came the impatient reply.

Annie was concerned. Miss Emily didn’t look like herself, in fact she looked pale and troubled. ‘Miss Emily, you don’t look well,’ she said, then wished she hadn’t.

‘Never mind how I look,’ Emily almost screamed then pushed her knuckle into her mouth. This wouldn’t do, she must pull herself together. The last person she wanted to offend was Annie.

Annie didn’t take offence, someone in her position couldn’t afford to.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said dropping her eyes. Then she left the room and retraced her steps to the kitchen. When she returned she was carrying a tray covered in a white, stiffly starched tray-cloth. On it was a small silver teapot, strainer, sugar bowl, milk jug, teaspoons and two rose-patterned fine bone-china teacups and saucers. She placed the tray carefully on one of the low tables near to the fire. Only a small fire burned in the grate since some warmth was coming from the April sunshine slanting in the window.

‘Thank you, Annie, and I’m sorry I spoke to you like that.’

‘That’s all right, Miss Emily, and if that is everything—’

‘Of course it isn’t everything, the other cup is for you. I want you to join me.’

‘Join you?’ Annie said stupidly and her normally pale face crimsoned angrily. She hated to be made fun of and that is what Miss Emily was doing.

‘Yes, join me. Do you see anyone else in the room?’ She gave an exaggerated look around.

Annie looked stubborn. ‘No, Miss Emily, it wouldn’t be right.’

‘For goodness sake, sit down and do as you are told. I have something I want to say to you and this will make it easier.’

Annie did sit down but the colour had drained from her face leaving it grey.

Emily looked at her curiously. ‘Why are you looking so worried?’

Annie shook her head, she didn’t know what to say.

‘You have nothing to worry about, I’m the one with all the worries.’ She gulped. ‘I almost wish I were dead.’

‘Nothing can be as bad as that,’ Annie said gently.

‘Can’t it? Shows how little you know.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the teapot. ‘Pour the tea, will you?’

Annie put a little milk into each cup then poured the tea. Now that her own position didn’t seem to be threatened she could cease worrying and give her attention to Miss Emily. Poor lass, something was very far wrong but for the life of her Annie couldn’t understand what she could do about it.

Before lifting her cup Annie waited until Miss Emily had taken a few sips of hers. Silly to be nervous with the cups since she had washed, dried and put away the china often enough. But this was different, this was an ordeal. What if the mistress walked in this minute and saw her daughter having tea with one of the maids. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Raising the cup to her mouth she drank a little. After being used to thick, white kitchen cups she had a real fear that her strong white teeth might break the delicate china.

‘Annie, you are my friend, aren’t you?’

‘No, Miss Emily, I’m your maid.’

‘But you would be willing to help me?’

Alarm bells were ringing and she would have to go carefully. ‘I would do my best but I’m promising nothing until I know what it is.’ She wouldn’t risk her employers’ wrath and why should she? Whatever predicament Miss Emily had got herself into she would be forgiven but it didn’t follow that a maid would be treated as lightly.

Emily had grown quiet and was just staring into space as though lost in her own thoughts. Annie turned her eyes to admire the room. She liked it best. Compared to the elegance of the drawing-room and dining-room it was shabby. And it was this shabbiness and the lived-in look that made it look homely and appealing. Rich brocade curtains in shades of red and pale pinks hung at the double window and on the sill like a welcome touch of spring, were two bowls of hyacinths, one pink, one blue. The high ceiling had attractive cornices and the large sofa and armchairs had been bought more for comfort than appearance.

With a deep sigh Emily looked over at Annie and the maid was shocked to see such despair. She was no stranger to despair herself, in her short life she had seen too much of it. Miss Emily had everything or so it would appear. Apart from parents who doted on her she had beauty, lovely clothes and a splendid home.

‘I was wrong then,’ Emily said sadly, ‘I really did think that you would do anything to help me.’

‘Almost anything.’ It would be dangerous to go any further than that, Emily thought. Once given, a promise couldn’t be broken.

‘Almost anything will have to do.’ She gave a half smile. ‘There is just a possibility that I may have to leave home.’

‘Leave Denbrae House, Miss Emily?’ Annie sounded shocked.

‘It may well come to that and if it should I would want you with me.’

‘Where would you be going?’ Annie said cautiously.

‘I have no idea other than it will be a fair distance from here. Does the thought of that frighten you?’

‘A little.’

‘Why should leaving Denbrae House upset you? It isn’t your home.’

‘The only one I’ve known, Miss Emily,’ Annie said shortly, ‘and a lot better than the orphanage.’ She drank the rest of her tea and put the cup carefully back on the saucer. ‘Miss Emily, if you would excuse me I must get back, there is work to be done.’

‘Very well, you are excused.’ She pushed back the half-empty cup and said abruptly, ‘Get rid of this, then go.’

‘Yes, Miss Emily.’ Annie got up and hid her relief. This way Mrs Martin would know what was going on and not blame her.

Emily watched the busy hands as Annie arranged everything neatly stacked on the tray then balancing it on one hand managed to open the door with the other. A part of Emily’s brain registered how difficult that must be but even so it would not have occurred to her to get up and assist by opening the door. That was just not done. One expected a well-trained housemaid to cope.

She had always thought Annie to be different from the usual run of servants. The young woman had a quiet dignity that was all the more surprising given her humble beginnings. That the day would come when she, Emily Cunningham-Brown, would need Annie and not just as a maid, was laughable yet that day had come. In the months ahead she would need all the help and support she could get and that was unlikely to come from her parents.

Praying wouldn’t do much good. She did have her faith and it might give her the strength to face what lay ahead. She believed that God was fair but she also believed that He was severe. Sins would be forgiven but there would be a price to pay. How it would be exacted was what she was worried about.

That her parents would want her out of sight she had no doubt. She accepted it as inevitable and Annie was the one person she wanted with her. Strange that, but it was true. She needed someone quiet and sensible and most of all someone who wouldn’t preach. Annie hadn’t agreed as yet but she was hopeful.

Putting off the inevitable was only making it harder on herself. She would face them tomorrow morning. After breakfast would be the best time and before her father got behind his newspaper. She could imagine the look on their faces, it would be one of shock and horror and no wonder. She had done the unforgivable.

What loomed ahead was quite dreadful but would be much worse without the money she had been left. Thanks to darling Great-Aunt Anne she had the means to be independent. Emily managed a smile as she remembered. Her great-aunt had been a character. A spinster from choice she had deplored the way women were treated.

Emily was remembering the occasion when she had been asked to sit beside her great-aunt so that they could have a serious talk. Woman to woman she said. The old woman never spoke down to her. At the time Emily had been thirteen and spending part of her school holidays at her great-aunt’s home in Newport across the River Tay from Dundee. It was one of the tall houses that had a wonderful view from the front windows of the river in all its moods. Neighbours considered the elderly woman an eccentric and she would not have argued with that. As a girl it had angered her that her brother’s education should have been so important when it was perfectly obvious that she had the better brain. To her mother in particular her intelligence was an embarrassment and her outspokenness to be deplored. All that was required from a daughter of a good family was knowing how to conduct herself and the ability to read, write and do simple arithmetic. Music was important and piano lessons a must. At least two hours a day were set aside for practice and it was a proud moment for parents when their daughter was able to play sufficiently well to entertain guests. Even better if she could sing and accompany herself. The young Anne mastered the piano but had no singing voice.

‘Are you going to tell me something special?’

‘I am.’

‘Is it something nice?’

‘I would say so.’

They were sitting in a large, high-ceilinged room with a handsome bureau and two bookcases along one wall. The fireplace had a high brass fender that gleamed though not as brightly as the log box beside it. The larger pieces of furniture had been bought with the house and suited the room. The glass shelves in the china cabinet held exquisite porcelain figures and decorative plates. A silver rosebowl had pride of place in the middle of the centre shelf. Scattered around on various surfaces, including the top of the piano, were family photographs. And on the walls hung dull oil paintings of lochs and Highland cattle together with two pretty watercolours of local beauty spots.

‘Emily, you are thirteen and very nearly grown-up.’

‘I won’t be properly grown-up until I leave school.’

‘That is true.’ The old woman nodded her head and said slowly, ‘You are very fortunate, my dear, to be receiving a good education. I had a lot to do with the choice of school and without my interference you would have continued being taught at home.’

‘Did you go to school?’

‘No. In my day there was no choice, one had a governess. I was at the mercy of one who knew precious little as I very soon discovered. She could never answer my questions and got flustered and angry when I persisted. I was determined that wasn’t to be your fate.’

Emily giggled. ‘Were you a little horror?’

‘From all accounts I must have been.’

‘How do you know so much when nobody taught you?’

‘I had an enquiring mind and the benefit of a good library.’ She waved her hand in the direction of the bookcases. ‘That was my school, Emily. Self-taught you could say. But I’m wandering and what I want to say to you, child, is just between us. It is important you understand that.’ She frowned and looked stern. She had no difficulty looking severe; she had that sort of face.

‘A secret? I can keep a secret.’ Emily’s face brightened in anticipation. Her parents could never understand why she chose to spend some of her holidays with her father’s aunt. The rest of the family did their duty visits and kept those very short. They didn’t want to risk cutting themselves off completely since they all had expectations and the old woman couldn’t last for ever.

Only Emily knew how interesting her great-aunt could be and the wonderful stories she could tell.

‘I hope you can because it is important that you keep what I am to say to yourself.’ She paused and sat up straighter. ‘What I want to talk to you about is independence. That, my dear Emily, is the greatest gift of all for a woman.’

‘Like being able to do what you want without having to ask permission?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Is that why you didn’t get married because you wanted to be independent or did nobody ask you?’

How brutal the young can be, she thought. ‘Young woman, I wouldn’t say tact was your strong point,’ she bristled. ‘What a thing to say to an unmarried lady. I’ll have you know I had my admirers, not many I have to confess. But then I wasn’t a great beauty like your mother or mine for that matter. Another thing to bear in mind is that most men do not like clever women.’

‘Why not?’

‘It makes them feel uncomfortable. They think, mistakenly I may add, that they are superior. From the time they are born boys are encouraged to believe that and some women, perhaps most, let them go on thinking it.’

‘You wouldn’t and neither would I.’

‘Most certainly I do not share that view and it infuriates me that others still do. Unfortunately there was not a great deal I could do about it,’ she said shaking her head and dislodging a few hairpins. ‘I hope a woman’s lot will have changed before it need concern you, though I suspect it may take longer.’ She smiled. ‘Find yourself a husband who appreciates you for yourself and not just because you have a bonny face.’

‘Have I? Am I pretty?’

‘Yes, but don’t let it go to your head.’

Emily bent down to pick up the hairpins from the carpet and arrange them on the arm of the sofa. Later she would put them on her great-aunt’s dressing-table. Emily had the freedom of the house.

‘Is that all? Is that the secret?’ Emily couldn’t hide her disappointment.

‘No, none of that is a secret, indeed most of it is common knowledge. The secret and remember it is a secret is that I am going to leave you all my money.’

‘All of it?’ Emily’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Nobody else is getting anything?’

‘That is correct. Your parents won’t like it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they won’t like me favouring you and forgetting your brothers.’

‘Aren’t you going to leave anything to Michael and Robert?’

‘Not a penny.’

‘Don’t you like them?’

‘Of course I do, rascals though they are. They will be in line for plenty and won’t need any financial help from me.’

‘I suppose that is all right then.’

‘Perfectly all right. I can do as I wish and don’t keep interrupting or I’ll forget what I want to say.’ She paused and her face criss-crossed in lines broke into a smile. ‘Best of all you won’t have to wait until you are married or reach the age of twenty-one to inherit. No, my dear Emily, you will be entitled to draw on the money when you are eighteen. Should I still be in the land of the living when you reach that magical age, you shall have to wait a little longer. That isn’t very likely,’ she said suddenly sounding weary.

‘You aren’t going to die?’ Emily said in a frightened voice.

‘Not this minute,’ she laughed. ‘I would hope to get more warning than that.’

‘You shouldn’t joke about it,’ Emily said looking distressed.

‘Why not treat it lightly, we all have to go sometime and in the order of things I have had more than my allotted years.’

‘I don’t want your money if you’ve got to die.’ Emily’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You could still live a long time, couldn’t you?’

‘Yes, of course I could but don’t be distressed at the thought of my demise. I haven’t done anything too terrible in this life though that isn’t to say I haven’t been tempted.’ She smiled and patted Emily’s hand.

‘You will go to heaven when you die, of course you will. You are good and you are kind.’ Emily had a vivid imagination and she couldn’t bear to think of her great-aunt being refused entry into that mansion in the sky.

‘Thank you, my dear and don’t worry, I’m fairly confident I’ll go to heaven and if not I’ll have plenty of company wherever I do end up,’ she said drily. ‘With that distressing subject out of the way perhaps we could get back to the real purpose of this conversation. I want to make sure that whatever happens you will be all right.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘I can’t answer that, none of us knows what is ahead. I trust that you will be happy but, should there come a time when you are in difficulties, it will help greatly if you have the means to support yourself.’

Emily was frowning and looking perplexed. What did her great-aunt mean? Her mother and father would always be there for her.

‘You are too young to understand and I doubt if I could make it really clear. Still I must try. Your parents love you dearly and want only the best for you. Their best might not be the same as you want for yourself. If you are totally dependent on your parents the probability is that you may have to do what they want.’

‘I see,’ Emily said slowly. ‘With money of my own I would have a choice in the matter.’

‘Well said, I couldn’t have put it better myself. All this is very unlikely, Emily. In all probability you will have a trouble-free life and marry someone you love who will be acceptable to Alfred and Maud.’

‘This is just in case I fall in love with someone totally unsuitable.’ Emily was beginning to enjoy herself. This was the most interesting conversation she had ever had.

‘I hope you won’t be silly enough to marry a rogue.’

‘No, I won’t.’

‘What I had in mind was you perhaps falling from grace.’

‘Doing something dreadful?’

‘Not in your eyes only in theirs. Now I’ve got you totally confused.’

‘No, you haven’t. Do you think I might fall from grace?’

‘I sincerely hope not, but being a much loved daughter would make your position all the worse if you were to do so.’

‘Did you ever fall from grace or should I not be asking that?’

‘No, you shouldn’t but I’ll answer it. I didn’t do anything as terrible as anger my parents sufficiently to show me the door, but I was a great disappointment to them. Your mother was the kind of girl they would have liked for a daughter. Maud was everything I wasn’t but they got the next best thing when she became part of the family.’

‘You aren’t a disappointment to me.’ Emily flung her arms round the old lady’s neck and hugged her. ‘I love you and that’s why I like to come and stay here.’

‘Bless you,’ she said as she gently removed herself from the stranglehold.

‘Thank you very much Great-Aunt Anne. This will be our secret and I promise you I won’t tell a living soul.’

‘Such a silly expression, you wouldn’t be likely to tell a dead soul, would you?’

Emily giggled and sprang up. ‘Time for your afternoon tea, shall I ring for it?’

‘Yes, do that. I hadn’t realised it was that time but when you get to my age food isn’t important. I’m never hungry but I daresay I would enjoy a cup of tea.’

Emily closed her eyes. How strange that she should remember it all so clearly. The years had just rolled away and for a short time she had been that happy thirteen-year-old. The holiday had been special and stayed with her because it had been her last in Newport. Three months later the old lady had slipped away peacefully in her sleep.

What would her great-aunt have thought of her now? She would have been disappointed. No, she would have been much more than that. She would have been deeply shocked. Her great-aunt would never have behaved in that way but then she had never been in love. Never felt that thrill of excitement and that strange longing run through her veins.

How could it be wrong to love? That’s what she had thought and her ignorance and stupidity had brought her to this.

Until now Emily had given no thought to the money left to her. Now she saw it as a godsend. Whatever the future held she wouldn’t be penniless. Well into the night and until sleep claimed her, Emily tried to marshal her thoughts and prepare the words that somehow she had to find the courage to say.

As soon as Emily awoke all her fears and anxieties crowded about her. As she well knew her father could be cold and hard when he chose to be and what she had to confess was going to devastate him. Her mother, too, though she might be a little more understanding. Once he had got over the first shock she could see her father’s orderly mind taking over. Alfred Cunningham-Brown would now concentrate his mind on how best to protect the family’s good name. That could only be achieved by getting her away and out of sight as soon as possible.

Throwing back the covers, Emily got herself out of bed and tried to stem the rising panic. In her bare feet she padded across to the window to draw back the curtains. No blinds were necessary since the material was heavy and the curtains lined. Sunshine flooded into the room and as she laid her brow against the cold window there was a light tap at the door. A maid came in with a jug of hot water which she placed on the marble top.

Opening the window, Emily leaned out and breathed in the fresh, cold, clear air. Of all the seasons this was her favourite. She loved to see the trees newly in leaf and the splash of colour that came with the crocuses peeping through the grass. Others, mostly yellow and purple clustered around the tree trunks while under the hedges were clumps of delicate primroses. Beyond lay a whole field of golden daffodils that looked like a giant bedspread. And in the far distance the hills were faintly hazy though by mid-morning the haze would have lifted.

Emily’s eyes filled