About The Hollow Ground – Episode 02
About The Hollow Ground by Pamela Kavanagh
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- 2. About The Hollow Ground – Episode 02
- 3. About The Hollow Ground – Episode 03
- 4. About The Hollow Ground – Episode 04
- 5. About The Hollow Ground – Episode 05
“Let us hope so.” Nan hid a smile. The girl was so grateful she might have been given the moon, when the reality was far from it.
“You can expect to have one Sunday afternoon off every month. You will wish to visit your family at Broxton. Not too far away, I warrant?”
“No, miss. Though I reckon Mam’ll not care two pins if I turn up or not. Gramps might, though. Him’s a goodly soul.”
“There you are. I’ll show you your quarters. Are you able to begin immediately? You will need to fetch your belongings, of course.”
The girl nodded eagerly.
“I took the liberty of bringing my bundle, just in case. Tes outside the back door, miss.”
“I see.”
Again Nan wanted to smile. Unschooled and none too clean in her person Mercy Dale might be, but she seemed willing and there was much to be said for employing a girl to train up oneself.
In a strange way she felt an affinity with the new maid. They had both grown up lacking a parent – in Nan’s case her mother, who had left home when Nan was in the cradle. Having something in common surely held significance.
The inner voice that hinted at caution, Nan pushed aside.
She waited for Mercy to collect her bundle and led her up the back stair, their feet clattering on the bare treads, to the attic room in which had slept countless servants over the years.
Seeing her bedchamber, Mercy’s face lit up.
“A room of me own! I’ve had to share with Mam at the smithy.”
The room contained a chest of drawers, a washstand with flowered jug and bowl, and an iron-framed bed with thin straw-stuffed mattress.
A set of coarse cotton sheets, grey blankets and a coverlet rested at the foot of the bed. A row of pegs by the door served to hang clothes on, and apart from a small biblical text over the bed, there was no ornamentation whatsoever.
“Have you any questions?” Nan asked.
Mercy looked suddenly scared.
“Please, what time does I start of a morning?”
“Well, I rise at six, so I shall expect you to be down by then with the fire in the kitchen range refreshed and the kettle boiling.
“I take my breakfast in the dining-room at eight. The outdoor staff, Brassey and Skelland, eat in the kitchen at eight-thirty.
“You prepare the men’s midday snap and take it out to them wherever they happen to be working, and they are given tea at four.
“Brassey lives in the village so doesn’t require an evening meal. Skelland has a tied cottage on the slopes and sees to himself.
“I eat at eight,” she continued. “It’s up to you when you have supper.”
Nan paused. The look of bewilderment on Mercy’s face was not lost on her.
“Come now, Mercy. We shall fall into a routine. I shall address you by your given name rather than the customary surname, there being just the two of us.”
Mercy bobbed a curtsey, looking more confused than ever.
Nan gave her a smile of reassurance she was far from feeling and departed for the laundry room and the uniform.
As she went she wondered what the men would think of the new addition to the house. Brassey, being a neighbour of the smith’s, would probably have plenty to say on the matter.
