Story: A Lady and Her Maid. Chapter 6.

by Jackie J

Chapter 6

A month had passed since the visit from the customs agents and Jennifer had heard nothing further.

Jennifer smiled cynically at her once mistress down on her hands and knees polishing the upper landings floors. Now convinced of her Mistress’s motivation for their role reversal, Jennifer reconciled that a continuation of the situation was only what her Mistress would want. She wouldn’t want to be discovered, would she? Life of maid, her maid, was much better than the potential confines of a prison cell.

Ever more confident of her position, it was two weeks later that Jennifer took up the invitation of Mrs Geraldine Booth to take afternoon tea at her residence. A number of ladies were present, and Jennifer was not out of place amongst them. The new dress she wore drew many favourable comments. The event was passing well until Geraldine, unknown to Jennifer, the wife of the local magistrate, took Jennifer to one side.

“Is it true then about Constance?”

Jennifer was taken somewhat off guard.

“True? What? What is true?”

Geraldine privy to highly confidential information, released on the pillows of her bed by her husband, smirked.

“You know, why she left the manor in such a hurry… You had a visit did you not, from the customs? I have it on good authority Constance is a wanted woman. Warrants have been issued. Come on Jennifer, you must know! You can tell me. What is going on?”

Jennifer stayed calm. How did Geraldine know all this? Was it common knowledge? Jennifer needed to know just how much she did know.

“Geraldine you obviously know more than me. Yes, the customs officers visited the manor and took away some files. They didn’t tell me anything other than they needed to speak with Constance about some matter or other. Wanted woman, warrants? I was told nothing of this. You must tell me what you know, Geraldine, to be sure I am most confused.”

Taken into Geraldine’s confidence Jennifer was told all. Much of course she already knew but showed no indication that she did. The money was one thing – and much of it, but the slave trade and the details of what Lord and Lady Summerfield had been party to, that was something else. Jennifer’s look of surprise was genuine although initially attributing the evil to the late Lord Summerfield rather than her Mistress. Surely, she could not be involved in such matters. Geraldine soon dispelled that placation of responsibility. Confirming her source to be her magistrate husband, he had seen the evidence, it was Constance not Lord Summerfield who had been the instigator in the treatment and sale of slaves.

Geraldine, convinced by the draining of colour from Jennifer’s cheeks, put her arm around her guest.

“You poor thing! I can see you are shocked. That wicked woman: left without a word, on the run by all accounts. She will probably never come back to Stag Head Manor. What will you do?”

Jennifer feigned feeling quite faint taking a seat and Geraldine brought her some water.

Jennifer taking hold of the offered glass took a convincing gulp of her distress and sighed.

“Oh my goodness, Geraldine, I didn’t know. The customs men never said about the slavery, about what Constance had done.”

Jennifer hid her amusement at the irony of Constance’s current situation. How fitting that she had enslaved herself into the life of a house maid. How tempting to share Constance’s predicament with her host, Lady Summerfield’s debasement and demise into a life of domestic servitude. A temptation of course resisted.

“What will I do, Geraldine? Well I don’t rightly know, I was asked to look after the manor, and I have. Until the situation changes I will stay on. The manor cannot be left deserted.”

Jennifer stood and embraced Geraldine.

“Thank you, Geraldine, for telling me all this.What you have told me will go no further and hopefully the authorities will quickly track down Constance and bring her to justice. Do you know Constance very well?”

Geraldine laughed.

“Does anyone? Ask any of the ladies here they will tell you the same. I never took to her, she was quite aloof, rarely came to social events, never attended church, now I see why. Even before Lord Summerfield passed, she was never one to mix socially, and more so in recent years. She was often away travelling. I saw little of her. I cannot remember the last time I saw her, and I cannot say I would wish to now. Do I know her well? Not really. In fact hardly at all.”

Jennifer did not linger long at the function after the revelations of Geraldine. On the journey back to the manor her mind was conflicted. If the true identity of her maid came to light, she would be found to be complicit, of that there was little doubt. Should she now alert the authorities? But why did she not do that in the first place, when the agents came to the manor looking for her? The degree of panic did not subside throughout her return to Stag Head manor.

What to do? With all the options that Jennifer explored the best answer to all considerations was “nothing.” Do nothing and continue as things were. Jennifer had taken her maid into town on numerous occasions, and she had not been recognised. The visiting customs agents even had a photograph of Lady Summerfield. They had been served tea and lunch by Maud and not suspected who Jennifer’s maid was. Geraldine had confirmed what she had learned from others who knew Lady Summerfield. They hardly knew or indeed cared for Lady Summerfield.

Yes, Jennifer would do nothing. Over six months aproned, not only had her mistress lost her mind but physically and in appearance her deterioration from an elegant lady into the maid was, putting it politely, quite stark. Even the way she now spoke, Jennifer had listened to her maid speaking with traders and Walter the new groundsman. There was nothing remotely ladylike in that regard. Jennifer was right. Who would possibly consider Maud to have once been the mistress of Stag Head manor, to be Lady Summerfield?

Life continued much has it had for the Mistress and her maid at the manor. Jennifer convinced herself that it was a form of natural justice for Lady Summerfield’s sins that she should spend her days a common maid, her maid.

Many hundred miles away it was angry eyes that read and glared at the letter received that day.

Dear Miss Wilberforce,

We write in the matter regarding the state investigations into the activity of the late Lord Summerfield and Lady Summerfield. We thank you for the evidence you provided which presents a strong cause to pursue prosecution. However, we have been unable to establish the whereabouts of Lady Summerfield understanding that she may have left the country. Lady Summerfield left her home suddenly some nine months ago, which would coincide with our contact with Lady Summerfield informing her that new evidence had come to light regarding the earlier abandoned investigations.

With limited resources available our senior investigator concludes that all further investigations will be suspended until Lady Summerfield returns to her home or her whereabouts become known.

Due to the seriousness of the allegations and the overwhelming evidence that you provided, we understand that this is not the outcome you would be anticipating.

For your information a Custodian was appointed and remains at Stag Head manor, by the name of Miss Jennifer Jenkins, charged with overseeing Lady Summerfield’s estate and affairs in her absence. Our investigators, who visited Stag Head manor, were satisfied that she had no knowledge of Lady Summerfield’s notorious history or her current situation.

Lord Lieutenant’s office

Department of Customs and Special Investigations.

Marjorie, quickly turning her anger into a rage, cursed screwing up that letter and tossing it to the floor.

“Dam, dam, dam and blast! The bitch! The bloody bitch is getting away with it all again!”

Marjorie was seething at the incompetence of the investigation; she had long suspected the authorities of duplicity. They would be more than pleased if the case never came to a public trial, the disappearance of Constance would suit that purpose.

So that was it. The matter was closed once again, despite all the detailed information she had forwarded to them. Marjorie had sworn to see Constance brought to justice. With hindsight, showing Constance the evidence, she had gathered, was perhaps a mistake. When an unperturbed Constance had laughed in her face, she was more determined than ever but should have known then the scheming cow would evade retribution for her reprehensible and illegal activities. Knowing the authorities would not let it rest after the last case collapsed, knowing they would be coming for her, she no doubt had her plans. But what plans? Where can she be? Where did she go?

Somewhat calmed, Marjorie picked up the ball of paper from the floor and smoothed it out into legibility.

Reading the foot of the letter, Marjorie pondered. Custodian Jennifer Jenkins. Now, who can that be and what does she know? The letter suggests she knew nothing about Constance’s sudden departure. She had obviously said she knew nothing under the restricted inquisition of the investigators and perhaps she didn’t, but Marjorie would have no such restrictions: she would beat the truth out of this custodian if she had to.

Stag Head manor was the best part of three days journey away, perhaps she should forget the whole thing. But what if this Jennifer Jenkins does know something, anything, a clue to where Constance went. Constance also had a maid, who probably kept her mouth shut out of some misplaced loyalty. If she is still at the manor, she must know something. Probably said nothing to the customs men who visited, but if she knew anything Marjorie would get it out of her. Marjorie couldn’t let it rest. She just couldn’t and started to prepare for her travels.

There was a good reason Marjorie lived out in the wilds of Scotland, having turned her back on metropolitan life many years ago. Tired of hiding her own sexuality and angry at the racism faced by her love, on a daily basis, she had moved North and was settled in the remote estate with her partner, Mercy.

Marjorie’s mother had died in childbirth, which was not uncommon, and her father soon remarried. Constance arrived two years later and could do no wrong in the eyes of her doting parents. True or not Marjorie believed that she was blamed for her mother’s death in the eyes of her father. There was always friction between the two siblings, and it was destined they would go their separate ways when they came of age. Constance married well whilst Marjorie, with different needs, found her own way. Why she became a correctional officer in Her Majesty’s Prison service was a mystery to the family, which only served to distance herself further from them.

The funeral of their parents was the first time Marjorie and Constance had met for many years. They were like strangers, with little in common, their lives now so different. There was a mutual respect but nothing beyond that. Constance was married to Lord Summerfield and personified the gentile ways of her circumstances. Marjorie had no less become hardened by her own environment, mentally tough and physically strong. After Marjorie had chosen to move north, she had met with Constance on only three more occasions. Once the unwitting witness in the case brought against Lord and Lady Summerfield where she had unknowingly perjured herself for her half-sister. The second at Lord Summerfield’s funeral and the last meeting, having discovered the truth of Constance’s despicable dealings, and her own part in saving her skin, Marjorie had confronted Constance with the evidence she had gathered. It had been Mercy who had connected the dots with her connections to the Caribbean and the illegal slave trade. When her half-sister’s involvement was proved to her, Marjorie was distraught, and swore to see justice done.

The Journey to Stag Head manor was no less daunting than Marjorie had anticipated. It was dusk when she stepped down from the train and gave a long sigh. A porter collected her baggage and Marjorie was soon sat in her room at the station hotel. The journey across country to Inverness, then onward to Edinburgh was the most tedious and uncomfortable part of the journey South. The sleeper train, with her own compartment, provided basic comforts but no more than that and she had not slept well. She was here now, that is all that mattered, being just some ten miles from the manor and her confrontation with the custodian and the maid.

She would be travelling to the manor in the morning. The soft bed of the hotel room was a welcome respite from the previous days travelling, and Marjorie was soon sound asleep. During the journey South Marjorie had thought long and hard of how to approach Jennifer Jenkins. She had decided to arrive unannounced at the manor and had not written advising of her visit. Catch the woman off guard if she could, shock her into telling her what she knew, if anything. Marjorie had got the truth and confessions out of many a prisoner in her days in the prison service and she was confident her methods would be successful at Stag Head Manor. Marjorie was determined not to leave the manor without knowing more of her half-sister’s sudden disappearance and whereabouts.

 

 

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