If You Were the Only Girl, page 18
Lucy couldn’t help the blushes because she thought Clara was making fun of her. She had never taken much notice of her appearance and was unaware that she had blossomed, that her burnished hair shone with health, like her tawny-coloured eyes. Even her nose was a neat shape and in proportion to the rest of her face, and set above a very determined chin. Dressed in the black dress and lacy apron, with the lace cap secured with Kirbigrips, she looked very fetching as she knocked on the shiny cream door of the sitting room an hour or so later and tried to ignore the trembling in her legs and the dryness in the roof of her mouth.
When she was bid enter she went in, pushing the laden tea trolley with a little difficulty because the wheels sank into the patterened carpet. She had never been into the sitting room before and she took a swift look round. Her first impression was that it was very pleasant and quite spacious, the light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows incorporating a glass door that led out to the balcony. The windows had cream curtains draped at the tops and down each side. Standard lamps stood on either side. Two rattan baskets stood against one wall and a dark wood chest against the other, while the small tables were dotted about holding arrangements of flowers. The fireplace and mantelshelf were of white marble, with a large gold-framed mirror above. A brass fender encircled the hearth, a brass coal scuttle stood beside it, and a small fire burnt in the grate.
But Lucy noticed something else and that was the film of dust over the tops of the rattan baskets, chest and the mantelshelf. The hearth and fender were unpolished and the carpets and the rugs were decidedly grubby. Her lips pursed in annoyance.
Lady Heatherington smiled at her and said, ‘Put it on the small table, Cassidy,’ indicating the one between the ornate and patterned chair she was sitting on and the matching settee where the other woman and her daughter sat.
The girl had her head slightly bowed, but Lucy noticed Mrs Ponsomby was so heavily made up that traces of powder were visible in the lines of her face. There were also bags under her dark eyes and her hair was pulled up tightly to fit under her large-brimmed hat.
‘I’ll pour, if you hand round the other cakes and pastries,’ Lady Heatherington said. She eyed the trolley, before adding, ‘I advise you to try the sponge, Diana and Jessica, for my cook has a feather-light hand.’
Jessica raised her head and her eyes met Lucy’s, who suddenly felt immensely sorry for the girl. Cook was right: for all her wealth, she was as plain as a pikestaff. She had a completely dull face, lifeless eyes, a nose with little shape to it, a slack mouth and drab mousy hair, and made an altogether very unbecoming picture.
Lucy bent her head quickly and began to cut the cake into segments, as Lady Ponsomby said, ‘But, Amelia, you must be distraught not hearing from Clive for all this time.’
‘It has been very hard for both of us,’ Lady Heatherington said. ‘Charles left for Liverpool this morning to see if they have any news.’
‘Why Liverpool?’
‘It’s where they set out from,’ Lady Heatherington said. ‘It’s where he joined the brigade or unit or whatever it was they called themselves. They might not know much, if anything at all, but it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.’
‘Oh, I do agree,’ Lady Ponsomby said. ‘Anything is better than that.’
She accepted a plate from Lucy, with a piece of cake on it, without a word of thanks, and then she took a bite and urged the girl beside her, ‘Try the cake, my dear. It is divine.’
Lucy put a segment on a china plate. ‘Your cake, miss,’ she said, holding it out.
The women had begun to talk about the number of unemployed making a nuisance of themselves hanging around the streets and so only Lucy saw the glitter of malice that burnt in Jessica’s eyes. Suddenly she brought her hand down on Lucy’s arm with such force the plate spun from her hand and fell against the fender so that it was smashed to smithereens and bits of sponge cake littered the carpet and the hearth.
For a second, Lucy didn’t know what to do. Neither of the two women had seen what had happened before the plate had been knocked from her hand, and she could hardly accuse the daughter of a favourite friend of her employer of causing the mess. Jessica knew this too and she cast her a look almost of triumph as, in her shrill, piercing voice, she screamed at Lucy, ‘Well, don’t just stand there, stupid girl. Clear it up!’
Lucy was stunned by the injustice of it and her eyes sought those of Lady Heatherington. She saw that her employer was annoyed that a young guest in her house had the temerity to berate one of her servants.
Yet, Lady Heatherington reasoned, Cassidy had been inordinately clumsy and she had no wish to risk a quarrel with her friend. So her voice was clipped and cold as she said to Lucy, ‘How could you have been so careless? Go and get something to clean it up at once, and before you do, apologise to Miss Jessica.’
Having no other option, Lucy did apologise, though the words nearly stuck in her throat, especially when she saw the supercilious smile playing around Jessica’s mouth. Her smile widened still more as Lucy cleaned away the mess. She was filled with resentment that she could say nothing, and was glad of the sympathy of those in the kitchen who didn’t doubt a word she said when she related the incident later.
‘Heard she could be a nasty piece of work,’ Cook said. ‘My sister’s neighbour had a daughter took a job at the Ponsombys’, but she didn’t stay. She said no one does for long and that young miss is worst of the lot. Talks to the servants like they’re dirt, so I believe.’
‘Going by the way she spoke to me, I would say they are absolutely right,’ Lucy said. ‘But you know what got me? Lady Heatherington turned on me as well.’
‘Did you expect her to support you rather than a guest in the house?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘And you did drop the plate and smash it,’ Clara said. ‘You say she didn’t see what that young Pomsomby did.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Lucy said.
‘Look, we are the lowest of the low as far as they are concerned,’ Cook said. ‘And when the chips are down they will always support their own. It’s unchangeable so it’s something you have to get used to. But has that Miss Jessica improved any? I mean, she was at the back of the queue when the good looks were given out.’
Lucy smiled. ‘No improvement, I’d say. She is really plain.’
‘Oh, well, that explains why she acted like that.’
‘Does it?’
‘She’s jealous of your prettiness, Lucy.’ At the disbelieving look on Lucy’s face, she said, ‘You don’t know your own worth, child.’
‘How on earth can Master Clive like a person like that?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh, she wouldn’t behave like that in front of him,’ Clara said. ‘I’ve met her sort before. She would never show that side of her nature to him. You can count on that.’
‘She can’t keep it hidden for ever, though,’ Clodagh said. ‘And I pity the man she does marry, whoever he is.’
‘He’ll have to have a broad back, right enough,’ Cook said with a chuckle. ‘As for looks, well, they fade and money doesn’t. As an only child she is set for a big inheritance when she marries, and another when the old folk die. You can always put the light off in the bedroom.’
‘Mrs Murphy!’ Mr Carlisle said, clearly shocked, but Lucy and Clodagh had turned away and had their hands over their mouths so Mr Carlisle wouldn’t see their hilarity. After all, Lucy thought, what odds was Jessica Ponsomby’s ill humour to her? She would likely have little to do with the girl, and if she had to wait on her again she would watch her like a hawk and try to keep out of her reach.
Lucy didn’t forget the state the sitting room had been in, though she wasn’t one to tell tales. The next morning, coming down from taking the breakfast things up, she decided to find Hazel and put her right on a few things about earning her living. She knew she would be in one of the downstairs rooms, but she wasn’t in the dining room or the library. She wasn’t in the sitting room either, but she had been in there. The carpet sweeper had been brought in and so had a duster and the polish, though there was no evidence that they had been used. The ashes had not been touched either, there was no coal in the scuttles and the door leading through to the garden was slightly ajar.
If the door had not been slightly open, Lucy might well have assumed that Hazel had returned to the kitchen for something. But, as it was, she wandered over to the door. It was the giggle that alerted him. She knew who it was, though Hazel had not giggled much in the kitchen unless Jerry was there. With apprehension running all through her she stepped on to the balcony, walked to the end of it and round the side of the house.
She found them in the slight alcove of the door to the coal cellar. Neither of them noticed her because they were locked in a passionate embrace and both had their eyes closed. Lucy noticed one of Jerry’s hands was running over the curve of Hazel’s bottom and pulling her tighter against him.
‘How long has this been going on?’
At Lucy’s words the two jerked apart. Hazel’s face was aflame, though she faced Lucy squarely, but Jerry was wearing his usual nonchalant expression. Lucy had no authority over Jerry, but she still said, ‘Get yourself away. Mr Carlisle will hear of this,’ and she had the satisfaction of seeing him blanch.
‘And you, my girl, are coming with me,’ she said to Hazel, gripping her arm tighter so her nails dug into Hazel’s skin. Avoiding the servants’ hall and the kitchen, she yanked her up the back stairs to the attic where she plonked her on one of the beds and, taking hold of her shoulders, she shook her so hard her head snapped backwards and forwards. ‘You stupid, stupid little fool,’ she said. ‘Did you let him touch you, and you know exactly what I mean?’
In the face of such fury, Hazel was helpless and she looked at Lucy with eyes brimming with unshed tears. ‘Well, we kissed and that,’ Hazel admitted in a voice little above a whisper. ‘You saw us kiss.’
‘Yes, and I saw what his hand was doing while you were kissing him,’ Lucy said. ‘Have you done more than kiss?’
Hazel hung her head and Lucy snapped, ‘Well, have you?
Hazel nodded. ‘A bit more.’
‘You haven’t let him—’
‘No, I ain’t,’ Hazel said, and added with spirit, ‘But it don’t matter if I did ’cos Jerry is going to marry me, he is, and take me away from here.’
‘Dear God!’ Lucy cried. ‘Haven’t you even the sense you were born with? Jerry won’t marry you and he’s in no position to take you anywhere. He says that so that you’ll let him do things you know are wrong.’
Hazel was openly sobbing, but through her tears she maintained, ‘We weren’t doing any harm.’ And then at the look on Lucy’s face her voice faltered. ‘It … it was only like a bit of fun.’
‘Fun!’ exclaimed Lucy. ‘There is no fun to be had in having a baby out of wedlock, I can tell you that for nothing. By rights I should go for Mrs O’Leary now and she would in all likelihood dismiss you at once and without a reference. You seem to set great store on your father – well, what would he feel about you if you were dismissed for immorality?’
Hazel knew her father would take a very dim view of her turning up out of the blue, and he would know what she had been dismissed for when he realized that she had been given no reference. Her father’s temper was legendary, and though it had never been directed at her she imagined it might well be if he thought she had been engaged in any sort of hanky-panky, especially the sort that might fill her belly, so she said, ‘Please, don’t do that. I ain’t a bad girl, really, I ain’t, but Jerry made me feel so special. No one has ever done that before.’
‘And did he tell you how beautiful you are and how attracted he’d been as soon as he had cast eyes upon you?’
Hazel nodded. ‘Yes. But how did you know?’
Lucy didn’t answer, but instead she went on, ‘Did he say he had never seen hair so luxuriant or eyes so enticing?’
Hazel nodded miserably. She remembered too how he had stroked her hair and kissed her lips, which he described as sweet, and said he thought her the most wonderful girl in all the world.
‘Jerry Kilroy has flirted with all of us, or should I say tried to flirt, because none of us has taken that much notice of him,’ Lucy said. ‘Now, I expect you to act the same way.’
Hazel nodded. Her tears had dried and she just felt daft because she knew that, given the chance, he would have acted in a similar way to any number of girls. ‘What you said has made me feel right daft,’ she said. ‘Please give me another chance because I am really sorry.’
‘I’m prepared to keep it between ourselves if you’re being honest with me,’ Lucy said. ‘But I’ll be watching you from now on. You put a foot wrong and I will spill the beans.’
Hazel shook her head. ‘You needn’t worry. I’ll not give Jerry Kilroy the time of day after this. And you will never regret giving me another chance, for I swear I will never let you down again.’
‘Then as long as you don’t we will say no more about it,’ Lucy said.
Hazel realised the lucky escape she had had and what she owed Lucy, and she sighed with the relief and said, ‘Thanks, Lucy.’
To keep her promise to Hazel Lucy said nothing to Mr Carlisle about Jerry’s entanglement with Hazel, but he didn’t know she wasn’t going to tell him and so he was very subdued as they sat down to dinner later. Hazel was quiet too because she knew what a fool she had been and how close she had come to losing her job after only a few weeks. She knew now her card had been marked and she and Jerry would be watched closely by everyone. But Lucy didn’t need to worry about Hazel’s behaviour now because she had learnt her lesson.
Old Lady Heatherington had thought that Lord Heatherington only had to go to Liverpool and he would find out all he needed to know about his son and without any significant delay. He had promised he would telephone the minute he heard anything, but two days had passed with no news of any sort.
Lucy didn’t need to tell them of the strained atmosphere in the old lady’s bedroom, for even in the kitchen they could hear her strident voice.
‘She is so selfish,’ Norah said. ‘She is just concerned with herself and doesn’t even try to think how Lady Heatherington may be feeling after all this time with no news. She’s terribly worried and dreadfully sad.’
‘Lord Heatherington’s mother doesn’t seem to get sad,’ Lucy said. ‘She just gets angry.’
And she did get angry, so angry that the following day she threw a pepper pot at Nurse Townsend and cut her above the eye, and without hesitation both nurses packed their bags and left. They wouldn’t listen to any placating words nor pleas from Clara or even Lady Heatherington. They said they had suffered abuse hurled at them since the very first day they’d begun work and now with one of them attacked they couldn’t wait to see the back of the place. Lucy had never had a great liking for the nurses because she considered them snooty and arrogant, yet she thought no one should have to put up with having things thrown at them, or even being screamed at, the way they had been.
Yet everyone knew the old lady, bad as she was, could not just be neglected and Clara felt somewhat responsible. After all, she had hired the nurses in the first place. ‘I’ll go and see old Lady Heatherington and have a word,’ she offered, lifting up her lunch tray as she spoke.
‘Watch yourself then,’ Cook cautioned. Clara ap-proached the old lady’s bedroom door cautiously and grasped the handle. However, she wasn’t even through it when a paperweight narrowly missed her head and smashed into the door. ‘Stop that, Lady Heatherington!’ she said sternly.
‘Get out!’ bellowed the old woman, and, when she picked up a second paperweight, Clara beat a hasty retreat.
Clara returned to the kitchen and told them what had happened.
Lucy was filled with rage. ‘She thinks that she can do just what she likes and get away with it,’ she said, ‘and she has to learn that she can’t. Mrs O’Leary, she could have killed you.’
Clara grimaced. ‘Could have done me some damage all right,’ she said. ‘Gave me quite a turn when I saw it come flying for me, and it hit the door with such force that there is a sizeable dent in it.’
‘Yes,’ Cook said. ‘She may be at death’s door but she can still do a body a mischief.’
‘Yes, but what’s to be done?’ Clara said. ‘The nurses are gone, Lord Heatherington is away and Lady Heatherington won’t have anything to do with her.’
‘Wouldn’t help if she did,’ Cook said sagely. ‘The elder Lady Heatherington can’t stand the younger one. It would only inflame the situation if she got involved.’
‘I’ll take the tray up,’ Lucy said suddenly.
‘No, Lucy.’
‘She has to be seen to by someone,’ Lucy pointed out.
‘Yes, but …’
‘I know what she is capable of, Mrs O’Leary,’ Lucy said. ‘I have seen her more often than any of you, and someone has to do this.’
She took the tray from Cook as she spoke and made her way firmly up the back stairs, anger still coursing through her as she thought what might have happened to Clara. So, she didn’t open the door slowly, she burst through it instead with the tray held in front of her and glared at the woman in the bed, whose fingers had closed around another paperweight.
‘If you throw that at me, madam, you will get it right back again,’ she hissed.
To say the old lady was astounded would be putting it mildly. ‘You impudent young pup.’
‘Maybe I am, madam,’ Lucy said, approaching the bed. ‘But as you appear to have driven off the nurses, you and I might have more to do with each other and so it is best that we get a few things straight. One is that I do not like been shouted at and I absolutely will not tolerate being slapped, pinched or having things thrown at me, and it is right that we understand this from the outset.’
