Esther had been with her mistress ever since. Forty-four years, to be precise. Over the years she had risen in the ranks; now she was the head housekeeper at Lady Agatha’s current residences in London and Kent, and proud of her position.
Philip Falconer, a Kentish man, had also gone into service. He had started out as a junior footman, aged sixteen, in the employment of the Honourable Arthur Blane Montague at the latter’s country manor, Fountains Court in Kent. He had also worked at the Regent’s Park house which Mr Montague had purchased several years before his marriage to Lady Agatha.
Esther and Philip had met at this beautiful Nash house in London, where they had soon fallen in love. They had been married from the house and had lived there ever since. Their employers valued them far too much to let them go. Lady Agatha had transformed a set of rooms at the back of the house into a flat for Philip and Esther. It was still their main home, although they had the same kind of quarters at Fountains Court in Kent where their three sons had been born and brought up.
Esther was crossing the back hall when she stopped abruptly. Somebody outside was repeatedly banging the brass door knocker so hard it sounded like thunder.
Rushing to the service door, she opened it to find herself face to face with her favourite grandchild.
Momentarily taken aback though she was, she instantly smiled, reached out and drew him into the house. Then the smile slipped when she asked swiftly, with a small frown, ‘Is there something wrong? Why are you here in the middle of the day, James?’
‘There’s nothing wrong, Grans, not really. Mum’s ill. Dr Robertson says she has a heavy cold, and he gave her a bottle of medicine. He said she should go home to bed. That’s where she is now. Dad sent me for some of your raspberry vinegar concoction, as he calls it. Oh, and some camphor bags.’
‘I understand,’ Esther said, her sudden anxiety dissipating. ‘I’m sure the doctor’s right. Unfortunately summer colds are hard to get rid of, James.’ Putting her arms around him, she hugged him to her. He hugged her back, then stepped away, and said, ‘I’m sorry if I frightened you, Grans.’
‘I’m all right. Though I thought you were about to break the door down with your knocking.’ She gazed at him, her eyes roaming over his face. It had been only ten days since she had seen him, and yet he looked more mature; he was now an inch taller than she was.
Staring back at her, he asked softly, ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’
Esther shook her head and a faint smile crossed her face. ‘You’ve changed a bit, and you seem to be, well, more mature. You might be only fourteen, but you are growing up rapidly.’
He smiled at her, and then laughed. And she was dazzled by him … the even white teeth, the natural charm, the most stunning blue eyes, filled with sparkle and life. Women are going to fall at his feet, she thought.
Brushing incipient worry to one side, she now said, ‘Let’s go down to my parlour and I’ll tell Cook to make the raspberry vinegar concoction. She’ll also make you something to eat.’
Esther led James down the long corridor where her parlour was located, Philip’s office, as well as the kitchen and the wine cellars. Showing him into her room, she went to the kitchen to speak to Cook.
Left alone in the parlour, James went and sat in a chair near the window. He liked this room. It was comfortable, nice to be in and full of light.
There was a fireplace, a sofa and chairs, and his grandmother’s desk. She had once explained that it was Georgian, a very good antique piece which Lady Agatha had given her. Basically, the room was an office where Esther did her menus, her household accounts and other paperwork, but she could also relax here between her many duties.
His grandfather’s room was a few doors down the corridor. It, too, had a desk, and was full of books, mostly about wine and the vineyards of France.
Philip Falconer had become an expert on wine over the years, and Mr Montague had allowed him to create a wonderful cellar.
James knew how lucky the whole family was, because of Philip and Esther Falconer. Their very long service in the Montague household protected them all. His father and two uncles worked and made decent livings, but there was, most importantly, the reassuring knowledge that the older Falconers were there for them, should they need help of any kind. Lucky indeed.
People giving over their entire lives to one aristocratic family was not unusual, but James knew his grandparents were kept on also because they were excellent at what they did. In a sense they had become part of the family, were often given many small privileges which were much appreciated. James’s grandparents had many perks because the Montagues thought so highly of them. His grandmother had recently confided that Lady Agatha had told her that she was not the best, but better than the best, and so was Philip. Esther had sounded very proud and pleased when she recounted this to him.
James looked across at the door as it opened and his grandfather came in, a huge smile on his face. Jumping up, James ran to him. They embraced and Philip kissed his cheek before releasing him.
‘What a nice surprise to see you, my boy. I notice that you’ve shot up since I last saw you.’
‘That’s what Father says.’
‘Your grandmother told me your mother’s not well; that’s why Matthew sent you for the raspberry vinegar. He’s all right himself, isn’t he?’
James nodded. ‘Fighting fit, he says.’
Philip seated himself on the sofa, and James took the chair opposite. ‘Has Lady Agatha gone away then?’
Philip smiled, knowing how much James enjoyed the way Her Ladyship fussed over him. ‘She has indeed, with the Honourable Mister and Miss Helena and Master William, plus two maids, the valet, and enough baggage to fill two coaches. Gone to the Riviera to enjoy the sun and the festivities by the sea. They will stay in Nice and then progress to Monte Carlo. They will return in September, unless the Honourable Mister wants to come back in August for the grouse season.’
Esther arrived and announced, ‘Let’s go to the staff dining room and have a bite of lunch.’ Beckoning to them, she went on, ‘Cook has made a cottage pie, and she’s now preparing another one for you to take home, James, and an excellent chicken soup for your mother. Nothing like chicken soup to cure a sore throat.’
Philip and James followed Esther as she hurried down the corridor and into the staff dining room, where they sat down together. They would have it to themselves for the next hour, while the other staff cleaned the house and went about their duties.
For a long time Esther had wanted to discuss the future with her grandson, eager to know if he had any special plans about his work. This was a great opportunity to bring up the subject.
Turning to look at him, her pale green eyes filled with love, she began. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you if you intend to spend your life working at the market with Matthew on the two stalls. Or whether you might have other ideas, perhaps?’
Taken by surprise, James stared at her, his eyes wide, his expression quizzical. He did not answer for a moment. Finally, he said, ‘I don’t know, not really.’
‘It has occurred to me, from time to time, that you love architecture, and I know how intrigued you are about John Nash and his Regency buildings. Grandpa and I would be prepared to send you to school to be trained in architectural drawing, if you want that,’ Esther announced, and sat back in her chair, looking at him expectantly.
He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, I don’t want to be a draughtsman, Grans, but thank you for offering to send me to study – and you, too, Grandpapa. That’s generous of you.’ He was sincere, and this echoed in his voice.
‘What about school in general?’