Langdown Manor (6 page)

‘How many more?' Ivy grumbled, arms up to her elbows in soapsuds. She looked over at the pile of dirty pans heaped up beside the sink. ‘Every time I wash one someone brings me another. Cook must have used every pot in the kitchen to cook their dinner today.'

‘Wait till there's a house party,' I said, turning on the tap to fill the kettle. ‘You'll learn what hard work is then.'

Ivy groaned. ‘Shall I kill myself now, or later?'

I grinned. Sarah, Ellen and I had just finished upstairs – going from one bedroom to the next, closing curtains, picking up clothes, turning down the bedcovers and laying out nightclothes. Her duties over, Sarah had disappeared to find Fred. Ellen was in the servants' hall, picking out a tune on the piano. My duties weren't over yet. I still had Miss Penelope's bottle to fill. Then there was the mending to do and her riding habit to brush. The skirt looked like she'd been rolling in mud.

I'd been shocked to see Miss Penelope's bruises – all down one side. But she had seemed cheerful in spite of her fall and had made me promise not to tell anyone. They'd only fuss, she'd said. I just hoped she wouldn't fall again, and hurt herself badly, or I'd feel guilty that I'd kept her secret to myself.

I took the kettle back to the kitchen and put it on the range to heat. Maddie was scrubbing the table. While I waited for the kettle to boil I pulled up a chair near her and stretched out my legs. By night time they were always aching. I seemed to be upstairs and down all day.

Robert pushed open the door with a foot. ‘More dishes for young Ivy,' he announced, putting down a tray.

‘Take that tray away,' said Maddie, her cheeks a bit pink. ‘Those dishes aren't for Ivy and you know it.'

‘Aw, don't scold,' said Robert. He put an arm round her and gave her a squeeze. He winked across her at me.

‘Leave go,' Maddie said, blushing.

Robert lifted both hands up. ‘All right, all right.' He sauntered down the passage, whistling. A moment later I heard Ivy laugh, then Robert's voice. They suited each other, I thought, show-offs both.

Maddie's lips set in a thin line. ‘He's everyone's best friend, isn't he?'

‘He is,' I said, lamely, not sure what else I could say. The kettle had begun to sing. I got up to fill the bottle.

Sarah was in the maids' sitting room when I came back downstairs, Miss Penelope's riding habit in my hands. I was surprised to see her.

‘You're back early,' I began, then immediately wished I could bite out my tongue. But Sarah just smiled.

‘Fred had extra work to do this evening,' she said, drawing up her knees under her. ‘It's the Langdown Meet soon. There's always a lot to do.' She looked at the habit lying on my knee. ‘What's that?' she said, though I knew she knew very well what it was.

‘It's a riding habit,' I said, sounding as casual as I could. ‘Miss Penelope got it dirty out riding today.' I picked up the brush, praying that it would be an end to her questions. Sarah just nodded.

I stretched out my legs to the fire. It had burned down, and there wasn't much heat in it. But compared to our bedrooms, it was a furnace in there. I began to brush the habit, enjoying the companionable silence that had fallen between us. Sitting there together, I felt almost as I had before Miss Penelope and Ivy had come to disrupt our lives. I'd felt comfortable then – a lowly housemaid, but one with a real place in the world.

It wasn't peaceful for long. A barely stifled giggle outside made me and Sarah look up. We both knew who it was. A moment later Ivy bounced into the room. She flopped down on the sofa next to us. ‘All finished then, Ivy?' I said tartly.

‘Near enough,' she said. She curled up in a corner of the sofa. ‘Just need to rest my legs a mo. Ooh, they ache.' She gave a grimace and began to rub them.

Sarah and I looked at each other. Did she think we were stupid? We knew she'd been out in the corridor and we knew with whom.

‘It'll be the staff ball in a few weeks' time,' I said. ‘Have you got anything to wear, Ivy?'

‘Staff ball?' She looked blankly at us.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘The family throws a huge party for their staff and tenants before they go to London for the season. There'll be dancing—'

‘—and entertainment,' Sarah said, looking at me, the temptation to tease Ivy getting too much for her. I felt my lips twitch.

Ivy's eyes gleamed. ‘That'll be me then, won't it?'

If Ivy's head got any bigger she'd not get it through the door.

‘You'll not be short of partners,' Sarah said, catching my eye again.

‘You mean 'im, do you? Whatsisname? Robert?' Ivy looked bored. ‘I can do better than 'im.'

‘How much better?' Sarah said.

‘That'd be saying. But he's not what I'm after.'

She only wanted an audience, I thought. But I didn't feel like indulging her – not tonight. I turned back to the habit, and picked up the brush I'd put down.

But Ivy hadn't finished.

‘I never was meant to be in service, you know,' she said.

‘No?' Sarah said. We exchanged a glance.

‘I had expectations.'

‘Really?' said Sarah, innocently. ‘What sort?'

I felt a giggle rise and looked away.

‘Oh,' Ivy said, giving an airy wave of her arm. ‘We were rich, but we lost all our money when Father died. My life would have been very different if he hadn't. Father never wanted me to go into service.'

I couldn't resist it.

‘So you belong upstairs, do you, Ivy?' I said.

I heard Sarah stifle a snort. Ivy didn't seem to hear or if she did, she took no notice.

‘Well, we'd had servants of our own, you know,' she said.

‘A butler and your own personal lady's maid, I suppose,' said Sarah. I stuffed my face in the habit. It was too much.

Ivy was a performer. You never knew when she was being Ivy, or pretending to be someone else. ‘There's no accounting for fortune,' I said when I was able to speak again.

‘You what?' Ivy looked perplexed.

Let her chew on it, I thought, picking up the habit. I'd had enough of the game, besides I had things to do. I got up and Sarah got up, too.

‘I'll come with you, Jess.'

We were barely outside the sitting room, when we collapsed in giggles. ‘Does she really think we'd swallow all that?' I exclaimed.

‘I suppose they could have had an odd job man for the heavy work and a girl come in to help her mam.'

‘Just added a bit of garnish to the facts,' I said.

We laughed.

As we passed the scullery I saw a pile of pans still unwashed by the sink. ‘She won't last long,' Sarah said, nodding at them.

‘I know someone who won't be sorry,' I said.

Sarah nudged me. ‘Sssh. Look.'

‘What?'

‘Maddie,' she hissed.

The kitchen door was open. Maddie was marching down the passage towards the scullery. She swept past us without a glance. ‘Ivy'll catch it,' Sarah murmured, ‘when Maddie sees those dirty pans.'

We were halfway up the stairs when a shout of fury reached us. ‘You're right, she won't last long,' I said. But I'd be sorry. Ivy made me laugh.

‘Tomorrow,' he'd said. Tomorrow. It was tomorrow now. For once at Langdown I had something to look forward to. I opened my eyes. Baxter was drawing the curtains. Outside, rain was sliding down the windows.

At lunchtime it was still raining. Winter rain in England had one thing in common with sunshine in India – both went on for ever. There'd be no riding today. I looked despairingly out of the window. As a footman put my pudding in front of me, Aunt gave a little cough to draw my attention back to the table. She had an invitation, she announced, that would cheer us up. Nothing could do that, I thought, gazing bleakly at my plate.

‘Lady Whichcombe would like you to meet her daughter,' Aunt said. Arabella and I were both invited to a tea party at Whichcombe Park. I glanced at Arabella. She who was usually so careful to hide her feelings could scarcely conceal her disgust. I felt I'd sooner jump into a nest of snakes than spend an afternoon with Arabella's friends. But as soon as the meal was over we were bundled into the carriage that was to take us to Whichcombe Park.

A bevy of girls was waiting to meet me there. They gathered around me, quizzing me as girls do to find out whether I'd ‘do' or not. ‘What does your father do?' one asked languidly, raising her perfectly kept hand to her perfectly kept hair. I could tell from the glances they gave each other that they already knew. Arabella had primed them. The correct answer in this company was that he did nothing. My answer was the wrong one.

‘He is a tea planter, in India,' I said.

‘How very … unusual,' one remarked barely able to conceal her disdain. The girls moved closer to each other. I did not do. I would not be allowed into their club. Now they were free to tear me to pieces.

‘That's a pretty gown,' one of the girls said. She exchanged a glance with another girl, who took up the cue. ‘It reminds me of yours, Arabella,' she said.

‘That's because it is mine,' Arabella giggled. A titter rippled through the group
. Arabella's cousin doesn't have a gown fit to wear.
She has to borrow her cousin's clothes.
I couldn't take them all on. I moved away before they did. But as I took shelter in another corner, pretending to admire a painting, to my surprise I saw one of the girls leave the group and walk over to me.

‘Don't mind them,' she said. ‘Not all English girls are hateful snobs.'

She told me that her name was Flo, and that she was staying at the park while her parents were away. ‘Mother thinks it is nice for me to have the company of other girls. She doesn't realize how I detest them,' she said, nodding at Arabella's friends. We sat down next to each other, while the footman handed round plates of tiny buttered scones and dainty cakes. ‘Will you be coming out this year?' she asked.

I pulled a face. ‘I'm afraid I will,' I said.

My reaction seemed to surprise her. ‘Don't you want to?' she said.

‘No, I don't.'

‘But it should be lots of fun,' she urged. ‘Parties and balls and races at Ascot and Goodwood, sailing at Cowes.'

‘But we'll just be watching, won't we? I'd rather take part.'

The vipers had collected in another part of the room. One glanced round and whispered to her friends. Their giggles were audible. I must have spoken loud enough for them to hear. I ignored them. Now that I had an ally, I could afford to.

‘I suppose we will.' She leaned towards me. ‘Will you be presented at Court?'

‘Aunt would like me to be.'
I wouldn't be, if it were up to me.

‘Oh good,' she said. ‘Then we will see each other when you come to London.' She pulled her chair closer to me and whispered, ‘Don't tell anyone, but I'm dreading it. I've been practising how to curtsy for nearly a year and I still cannot rise without wobbling.'

‘Neither can I,' I said.

‘I've even had dreams in which I trip over my train and fall at the King's feet.'

‘Down, down, down,' I mimicked Madame's voice. ‘Hold the pose. Now – fall over.'

Flo laughed. ‘I usually do!'

I laughed with her. But I kept to myself that I found the whole thing rather silly. I didn't think she'd feel the same.

In spite of Flo I was almost relieved when the carriage came to collect us. One viper was better than a whole nest. We rode back in silence. Arabella didn't make any attempt to talk to me, and I didn't want to talk to her. I leaned against the cushioned back and kept my eyes fixed on the window. Why did she resent me so much? The dislike we felt for each other seemed to grow and grow until I felt as if there was hardly enough room in the carriage for both of us. As the carriage swung through the lodge gates and began to ascend the drive I felt more and more depressed. The lights had been turned on in the house. It should have been welcoming, but it wasn't. They felt like little eyes, mocking me.
Here you are, unwelcome one
. The carriage stopped and I felt it shake slightly as the footman who'd escorted us jumped down. He opened the door for us, holding up an umbrella to shelter us from the rain, though it was hardly raining at all by then. Arabella got out first and I stood to follow her. The footman took my hand and I stepped out. On the bottom step I hesitated. I didn't want to follow Arabella in. I didn't want to be within a hundred miles of her. Arabella had done her best to wreck the afternoon. I'll go to the stables, I thought. I hadn't been able to ride, but I could still go to the stables. If I hurried, I might be in time to say goodnight to Starshine before the stalls were locked for the night. I felt the misery begin to slip off me. I felt at home at the stables, which I never did in the house. The footman was still standing there patiently, the umbrella held over my head. I didn't want him to see me run round to the stables. I had to think of a way to get rid of him. ‘Don't wait for me,' I said. ‘I think I dropped my bracelet round here earlier. I'll stay outside and look for it.' I bent down, and poked at the gravel, pretending to search for it.

‘I'll help you, miss.'

‘There's no need. I'm sure I'll find it soon.'
Go, please go.

‘Very good, miss.' He folded the umbrella. The crunch of his footsteps on the gravel grew fainter. He must have thought me mad.

I waited until the carriage had gone. Then I walked round to the stables. It was nearly dark but there was plenty of light from the house to help me find my way – not that I needed it. I knew the way so well now that I could have found it in the dark if I'd had to. At the gate I ducked down quickly – the coachman was in the yard talking to one of the grooms. I waited until I heard him say goodnight and slipped back out of sight as he came up to let himself out of the gate. When I could no longer see him, I crept back again. The yard was empty now. The horses had been bolted in for the night, and lights had come on in some of the rooms up above the stables. What did I think I was I doing? I was about to turn away when a lantern flashed full in my face. I blinked.

‘Miss Penelope! What are you doing here?' It was Fred. He looked astonished. ‘I thought we had an intruder,' he said, lowering the lantern.

I certainly felt like one the way he was looking at me.

I felt an idiot, too. I wanted to explain, but I couldn't think what to say. He'd think me mad. I winced, imagining him talking about me to the servants. What would they say? What would
he
say? ‘That Miss Penelope, she's a rum one. I found her hanging around the stables in the dark. I don't know why.'

I couldn't think why now either. Some stupid idea I'd had about it feeling like home. It didn't feel like home now.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘I don't know what I'm doing here either.' I turned to go.

‘No, wait,' he said. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. We have to be careful,' he explained. ‘These horses are valuable.'

He had lifted the lantern up a little. ‘Is something wrong?' he said.

I may as well tell him the truth.
‘Fred, I've had an awful afternoon,' I said simply. ‘I couldn't bear to go back into the house. I just didn't know where else to go.' I looked at him pleadingly. He was silent. Had I made an awful mistake? What made me feel I could trust this boy that I hardly knew?

He was looking steadily at me, but the hand that was holding the lantern was trembling.

I felt myself shiver. He leaned forward and I felt his hand touch my arm. It was the lightest softest touch, but I felt the warmth from it run all through me. ‘You're cold,' he said. ‘You'll catch a chill. Here. Put this on.' He took off his jacket and draped it gently over my shoulders. We neither of us spoke; we just stood there quietly together. I felt comfort slowly seep into me. I felt as if I could have stood there with him for ever, but at the house I knew that they'd be wondering where I was. Reluctantly I slipped off the jacket and handed it back to him.

‘Thank you,' I said.

‘For what?' he said, putting it back on.

Surely he knew. For being there, for being a friend. For making some little part of Langdown feel like home.

‘Will you be riding tomorrow?' he asked. He hadn't been looking at me, but now he raised his eyes and looked full into mine. I felt dizzy. I felt as if I could hardly breathe. Happiness flooded through me.

‘Do you need to ask?' I whispered.