next time she bought something from him, she threw the exact coins on the counter in the same way, and walked out with her Abyssinian nose in the air
her Ma would be proud.
4
Greenfields farmhouse was long, narrow, thatched and fusty
Grace was used to the Hindmarsh residence kept pristine by a legion of servants
she didn’t like being inside the gloomy interior of her new home that smelled of old things that should have been thrown out a long time ago
surfaces felt sticky to the touch, the floor was covered in grit from the farm, nothing in the kitchen was clean enough to use
Joseph
had employed a very young girl as a maid, Agnes, ahead of her arrival, which amused Grace, seeing as she was one herself a few days previous
you don’t need to work any more, Gracie, he told her, you’re going to read books and do your embroidery, Agnes will take care of the house, me and the farmhands will sort out the rest
don’t forget you’re Queen Cleopatra, the Lady of the Nile
if you say so, she said, amused, saw no evidence of Agnes’s housework, and complained to Joseph who didn’t seem to care, admitted he didn’t notice dirt or messiness
I’d never have guessed, Grace replied, which he took literally, Joseph being a plain-speaking person without guile
she played at being the Lady of the Manor in the Long Room, started to embroider a tapestry of the exterior of the house as it was in 1806, newly built by Joseph’s ancestor Linnaeus Rydendale
based on a painting of it in the hallway
it was going to be a gift for her husband
she tinkled the service bell whenever she wanted something from Agnes, a slothful child with no charm or wit, who slouched in, fingernails dirty, pinafore un-ironed, hair unruly beneath her white cap, barely looking at her mistress
Grace reprimanded Agnes for her appearance, sent her back to the kitchen to scrub her nails and tidy her hair
ordered a pot of tea, make it strong and hot, but it turned up tepid and weak
Grace let her have it, I require you to perform your duties to the highest standards, she said imperiously, now bring me a pot of tea according to my precise specifications
Grace adopted the tone and vocabulary of any number of family members and guests at the Hindmarshes’
from the look the girl gave her when she picked up the teapot, Grace worried she might pour it over her new mistress
this was quite unlike her grovelling around Joseph
yes, Mr Rydendale, no, Mr Rydendale, let me lick your feet, Mr Rydendale, ridiculously curtsying when he came into the room
it became very clear to Grace that this slovenly scrap of a girl, of low intelligence, hygiene and ability, was never going to take orders from
a half-caste, a negress, Queen of the flaming Nile or not
Grace told Joseph to let Agnes go, she’d endured enough of her insolence and incompetence
she’d do the housework herself and might actually enjoy it as it was for herself, which she did, the pride she felt when she’d properly scraped all the blackened grease from the cooker
the pride she felt when she’d been on her hands and knees and cleaned the flagstones on the ground floor until they shone like black ice, and polished the wooden floors upstairs so the daylight bounced off them
likewise with the numerous windows that were so filthy the yard and barns out front, and the fields sloping downwards out back, were invisible behind a slimy film of grime
she set to work with soap, water and vinegar, leaving the glass so clean it was invisible
she called Joseph in to look at the results of her endeavours and even he, who claimed not to be able to see dirt, praised her on how refreshed the house looked
not quite refreshed, Joseph, I suggest we refurbish the place in preparation for our children, most of the furniture will fall apart as soon as a child jumps on it, and a spot of paint won’t go amiss, let’s call in a handyman from the village to brighten the place up
when he started to protest, she said, you know an order when you hear it, Private Rydendale
Joseph loved it when she cheeked him
old was replaced with new, a china cabinet, oak dresser and chiffonier, art deco rugs, she went shopping in Berwick with him, smartened him up with new suits and shoes, bought yards of material for her own clothes, even popped into Gillingham & Sons to show him off to Mabel and Beatrice, boasted about the large farm of which she was now the mistress
they played Armstrong, Gershwin, Fats Waller and Jelly Roll Morton records on the new gramophone player and danced to them
on hot summer nights they opened the windows and took the party outside, watched only by the dogs, the village was two miles down the hill, the pair of them moved their heads and legs and hands to the energetic rhythms of the new American music
which she grew to love
or they’d sit reading and talking on the Davenport sofa, another prized acquisition, log fire roaring, Grace’s head resting on Joseph’s lap while he unpinned her hair so that its spiralled curls sprang out from their containment
the curls he loved twirling around in his large farmer’s hands
she couldn’t believe how much he loved her thick, coarse hair
she’d been embarrassed by it
the most important purchase for Grace was a packed cotton mattress for the four-poster bed in the master bedroom, replacing the decrepit, lumpy one steeped in all manner of excretions
it had been impossible to get a good night’s sleep on it, especially once he told her it was his parents’ bed and their parents’ before them
it had been hard for her to sleep on so much history
she wanted to clear out everything, including the old cupboard in the library crammed with ancient ledgers; Joseph said no, they were important deeds and records, he’d sort it out one day, and he put a lock on it
he bought the roll-top desk and sat at it to do the accounts once a week, pleased when in-goings topped out-goings, determined to keep the farm in profit, with an eye on expanding into neighbouring fields
nights
they made love with the gas lamp dimmed
she was his expedition into Africa, he said, he was Dr Livingstone sailing downriver in Africa to discover her at the source of the Nile
Abyssinia, she corrected him
whatever you say, Gracie
after he brought her to, she cried
from someplace inside herself she didn’t understand
he wanted at least ten strong sons who’d work on the farm, the eldest inheriting it
Grace would have settled for five, not sure she wanted to spend so many years bloated by pregnancy
three boys for Joseph, two girls for her
the first two to announce themselves were washed out in clots of blood
then there was a boy who started cooling down a few hours after the midwife put him in her arms
until he slowly became marbled
unable to speak of it
a chasm grew in the marital bed
they slept back to back
Grace was unable to do little more than wash herself, to eat little more than the bread and soup Joseph fed her as if she were a sickly child
eat up, Gracie, eat up
then came Lily
who arrived perfectly healthy and was enchanting
she reached the age of one month, then two, then three
everyone said she was the bonniest of babies when Grace showed her off in the bonnets, gowns, cardigans and knitted booties the ladies of the village made for her, who traipsed up the hill or rode up in carts to share her joy after the terrible bereavement
any lingering resentments or suspicions of the dark stranger had long ago dissolved
she was Grace now, their Grace, Joseph’s wife
Lily was theirs too
four months, five months, six
Lily with the mysterious, bottomless eyes, what are you thinking, Lily? Grace wondered as they stared each other out, hypnotized