Chapter Text
Peggy was young when she was hired to cook for Ella’s family, only a mere year older than Ella herself. Their old cook, a friend of Peggy’s mother, had retired, leaving the position open.
“Young Peggy isn’t too bad at cooking is she?” She overheard the old cook saying to her mother one afternoon over a cup of fresh fennel tea. “If she had a mind towards making herself a steady wage, I could put in a good word with the master of the place. They’re good people, they’d treat her right”
“I wouldn’t want to pressure her,” Peggy’s mother said, though Peggy herself knew how tight the money was. Her mother was a seamstress by trade, but some days she didn’t even manage to get out of bed. Peggy’s stitches weren’t fit for potato sacking, so she was unable to help.
And so, later, over a dinner of soup made from the last of the garden’s vegetables and whatever herbs she could find by the roadside, Peggy idly mentioned that she was thinking of trying to get work somewhere.
“I don’t suppose you know of a place?” she said innocently, bowing her head to eat a spoonful of the thin broth. “I’m no good at sewing, you know that, but I can cook well given a chance.”
“Why, how funny you should mention that,” her mother said, giving her a suspicious look, but that was how it came to pass.
All the other staff were old enough to be her parents, and Peggy resigned herself to life without a friend her own age. In this though, she was to be surprised.
###
“I brought you the eggs,” a cheerful voice announced on the first morning of Peggy’s employment. Peggy was familiarising herself with the kitchen, and working out what she would do for breakfast. The last cook had left her with a long list of instructions, most of which boiled down to ‘you could do it this way, or the other way, depending on the day’. While it was nice to know that her new employers weren’t going to be too strict, it made for a very unhelpful introduction. Looking up from where the pots were kept, she was shocked to see the cheerful-looking daughter of the estate.
“Oh, thank you Miss Ella,” Peggy said, hurrying over to relieve the basket from her. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Please, just call me Ella,” the girl said with an easy smile. “And it is no trouble.”
Peggy just hoped it wasn’t a subtle way of telling her to hurry the hell up with breakfast. “While you’re here, miss, are there any specific wishes for breakfast?”
The girl shrugged. “Usually it’s toast with some variety of eggs. We don’t mind too much as long as it tastes nice.”
Peggy sighed, relieved. “It will be out soon Miss Ella.”
“No rush,” the girl assured her, and flitted out again.
###
It became a habit, most mornings, for Miss Ella to bring her the eggs, and Peggy soon stopped worrying that it was a hint that food was tardy. She observed the girl helping out in other matters of running the estate; washing, gardening, and helping Bob with the horses. Peggy’s respect grew, especially when she observed that Ella didn’t confine herself to just the easy tasks. She got the chance to witness this firsthand one morning, a couple of months into working there.
“Here are the eggs,” Ella called, carefully setting down the basket on the table. “I went to the liberty of picking some fresh parsley, father and I thought that omelettes would be rather nice this morning.”
“I can arrange that,” Peggy said with a warm smile for the other girl. Before she left, she called out. “Oh, Miss Ella?”
The blonde girl hovered on the threshold.
“I thought to warn you that lunch may be a little late. I have to sweep out the fireplace today, and it always takes a while to clean up afterwards.”
Ella nodded. “I shall warn father,” she said, and disappeared, making Peggy think no more about it.
A few hours later though, Ella appeared again, wearing an old dress and with her hair tied back in a dirty scarf. Peggy had just finished putting everything away so that it would not get ash on it, and she stood up in surprise.
“Miss Ella?”
“How many times have I told you, it’s just Ella,” the girl said with a grin. “I’ve come to help, it’ll be quicker with the two of us.”
Peggy opened her mouth to object, then shut it again. “Are you sure?” She managed finally. “It’s dirty work.”
“I don’t mind that. Now, what are we doing?”
“First we need buckets and some shovels,” Peggy said, shaking her head and grabbing a couple of clothes and handing one to Ella. “Tie this around your face when we start, so we don’t breathe in the ash.”
Together, they shovelled and scraped the ash into the buckets as carefully as they could to avoid it getting everywhere. Ella was cheerful company, and Peggy found the work wasn’t as unenjoyable as she had expected. Their chatter came easily, even as they lugged the heavy buckets of ash out to the garden and put them where Winifred, the head gardener, directed them.
Once all the ash was scraped and swept out of the fireplace and deposited dutifully in the garden, the girls went back to the kitchen to survey their mess. Despite how careful they had been, the light ashes had been kicked up anyway, and hung heavy in the air, leaving a delicate coating on all the surfaces in the room as they settled. Peggy sighed, already weary from the work they had done, and she wouldn’t have blamed Ella for excusing herself. But the other girl merely rolled up her sleeves.
“Come on, let’s get some water to start cleaning.”
“Why do you help?” Peggy asked as she carefully wiped down all the surfaces in the kitchen. Ella was deftly wielding the mop into even the most annoying corners of the kitchen.
Ella looked up, face falling slightly. “Do you not like my company? I can leave if you wish.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Peggy said hurriedly. “I meant rather, you have no need to, and I’m sure your time could be better spent… I don’t know, reading or having fun in town.”
She shook her head. “I read plenty in the evenings, with Father,” she said, swishing the mop under the table. “And I enjoy helping out with the tasks. I’d get bored without something to do.”
There was a brief silence, punctuated by Peggy dipping her cloth in her bucket.
“Miss Ella?”
“Yes?”
“I appreciate your help, truly.”
And Peggy did not have to turn around to know that Ella was smiling.
###
A few weeks later, Ella’s father announced that he was leaving on a business trip. Shortly after he left, with a long tearful farewell between him and Ella, she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, slightly red-eyed.
“Oh Miss Ella,” Peggy said with sympathy, moving instantly to give the girl a small hug. Ella leaned into it, sniffling slightly.
“I had a thought, and I’m hoping you’ll agree with me,” Peggy said, once they drew back, handing Ella her sturdy handkerchief. “Mr Robertson, who lives in the cottage just down the road, has just had his wife sprain her ankle. I’m sure it can’t be easy with five children, and I thought to bake a pie to bring them.”
Ella instantly straightened up and began to look excited at the prospect of helping out, which is exactly what Peggy had hoped. “May I help you make it?” She asked hopefully. Peggy smothered a grin.
“I had hoped you might. I’ll need herbs from the garden. And you can do the pastry if you want, you seem to have a special touch for it.”
Two hours later they were walking cheerfully down the lane with baskets on their arms. Ella had decided to bring a bunch of spare fruit and vegetables for an additional gift, as well as some sweetmeats for the children. The sun shone brightly, filtering through the green leaves of the trees that lined either side of the road and met in the middle. Ella was humming a quiet tune to herself, which made Peggy smile to see.
“What is the song?” she asked, not quite being able to place it.
Ella blinked, shaken out of her thoughts. “Oh, it’s one my mother used to sing to me. Before… It’s called Lavender’s Blue.”
She paused, and then sang the first couple of lines.
“ Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green… ”
“ When you are king, dilly dilly, I will be queen, ” Peggy sang after her, surprised to remember the words after so long. “I remember now. My father sang it a few times when I was very small.”
“Does your mother not sing to you?” Cinderella asked quietly. Peggy shook her head.
“She used to, when my father was still around. At first, when he died, she was too sad I think.” Ella nodded, understanding. “Now she doesn’t have the energy, even on a good day.”
Ella reached out a hand and touched Peggy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
They both lapsed into silence, listening to the birds quietly warbling from either side of the sunny lane. Suddenly, it all came pouring out of Peggy.
“It’s so hard sometimes,” she confessed, fighting back tears. “I wake early in the morning before coming here so I might light the fire and make her some food to wake up to, but sometimes… I’ll come back late, exhausted and hungry, and the fire will be cold and she’ll still be abed.” Consciously Peggy knew that she shouldn’t be confessing such things to her employer, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop. “And at first I’ll be so scared that… that it’s not just sleep that’s making her so quiet, but then she’ll say something, ask for some water, and I know she’s ok. And the worst bit? I feel angry. It’s not her fault, not at all, but a horrible little part hates her because she’s my mother and she’s supposed to be caring for me . So I’ll make up the fire again and cook us supper, but all in silence, and though I don’t say it, I know she knows. And then she blames herself and then I feel awful because she can’t help any of it.” Placing down her basket in the road, Peggy buried her face in her apron, wanting to take the words back. She heard Ella put her basket down as well, and delicate hands gripped her shoulders.
“Peggy, I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” she said, distress evident in her voice. “Please, when you make dinner for us, make enough extra for the two of you. And if you ever need to go home early, tell me, I can handle the cooking for a day.”
Peggy sniffled, and rubbed her face in her apron. “Thank you,” she murmured, touched as always by Ella’s kindness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dumped that all on you.”
Ella took a step forward and hugged her. “I’m glad you told me,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to bear it on your own this long.”
Peggy smiled sadly. “I promised my father that I would look after her, and I will. Besides, all I can ever do is carry on.” She nearly added that Ella’s bright presence made life that much easier, but she bit her tongue.
Ella released her, and they both picked up their baskets and continued, approaching the turn where the Robertson’s cottage was.
“My mother told me, just before she died, that I need to always remember to have courage and be kind,” Ella said, glancing over at Peggy. “I think you are doing just that.”
“Aye, well you also seem to do that very well.” Peggy grinned, slightly tearfully. “Thank you, Miss Ella.”
The cottage was a fairly typical wattle-and-daub house that looked like it was in need of re-thatching. It was one small rectangle, with a stone fireplace up one end that emitted a light trail of smoke from the chimney, and a roof gable above the doorway with a single window at the top, with wooden shutters instead of glass. Young Peter Robertson, a small boy with big ears, was sitting on the stone wall that lined the laneway leading up to it. At the sight of the two girls, he leapt off and scrambled towards them.
“Miss Peggy!” He cried, throwing his arms around her legs. Peggy was obliged to stop abruptly lest she tumble to the ground along with her precious basket. Ella watched the proceedings with amusement.
“Nice to see you too Peter,” she said, smiling and wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. “Are your parents home?”
“Mama is,” he said, stepping back and starting to hop from one foot to another. “Who’s your pretty friend? Is she your girlfriend? What’s in the baskets? Can I have some?” As he spoke, he tried to lift up the cloth covering the basket, so Peggy raised the basket up beyond his reach.
“Nuh uh, no snatching. There are treats inside, but I’ll let your mama share those out. And this is Ella, she lives in the big house I work at.”
Peter’s eyes grew round, and he stared at Ella, his thoughts temporarily distracted from the baskets. “You live in the big house?”
“I do,” Ella said, smiling. “If you wanted to, you could come and see it sometime.”
Peter stood stock still for a moment, then raced up the path towards the house, yelling. “Mama! Miss Peggy is here with her friend who lives in the big house and she says we can come and visit it sometimes and can we please Mama and also they have treats that Miss Peggy says are for us and can we go visit-”
Peggy raised an eyebrow as he disappeared inside. “Sorry, I probably should have warned you.”
Ella, however, was laughing. “I love small children,” she said with no hint of annoyance visible, and Peggy inwardly sighed with relief.
An older boy emerged, who looked slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about that, Peter can be very… high spirited sometimes.”
“No harm done,” Peggy assured him. “Miss Ella, this is Percy. Percy, this is Miss Ella.”
“Hello!” Ella said, waving with her free hand. “It’s nice to meet you.’
“Nice to meet you too,” Percy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mama asked me to welcome you both inside. She’s unable to do it herself you see.”
“Of course,” Peggy said, leading the way into the room herself.
Inside, the cottage was one large room, with the fireplace at one end and the beds curtained off at the other. The room was crowded with all the things needed for daily life, but in various states of disarray. A kind looking woman with dark hair sat in a rocking chair with her foot raised, a basket of clothes obviously in need of repair beside her. As they entered, she set aside a shirt she was working on.
“Mrs Robertson!” Peggy rushed forward to greet her.
“Dear Peggy,” she responded warmly. “How is your mother?”
“Same as ever,” Peggy responded with a wry smile. “She’s holding up though. Mrs Robertson, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Ella.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Robertson,” Ella said, coming forward with a smile. “We have brought you some food, and some treats for the children, as we thought it might be difficult for you to manage with your injury.” She set down her basket at the woman’s feet, and Peggy followed suit.
Mrs Robertson looked first surprised, and then touched. “That’s very kind of you,” she said, clasping Ella’s hands. “It will be a great help to me, you’re right that it hasn’t been easy. My husband John is in town with the girls, but he would thank you as well.”
“It is no trouble. In truth, it was all Peggy’s idea,” Ella said, beckoning Peggy forward. “I just gave her permission.”
“Well then, thanks to the both of you,” Mrs Robertson said, grabbing Peggy’s hand as well. “If me or my family can be of service to either of you, just let us know.”
On the way back to the house, Ella looked over at Peggy.
“Thank you.”
Peggy met her glance with surprise.
“For what?”
“I didn’t miss that you involved me to cheer me up. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Miss Ella,” Peggy said, and she genuinely meant it.