A large section of Biddy’s mind cried at her: Say yes. Say yes. But when she heard herself say quietly, ‘I cannot promise faithfully, madam, to obey you on that point,’ some part of her shrank down inside and buried its head, waiting for the onslaught, while she continued to stare into the small faded blue eyes that were glaring into hers. She watched the head turn slowly and look up at her maid, and she listened to her saying, ‘We can understand now, can’t we, Hobson, why the whole household is up in arms?’
‘Yes, madam.’ Jessie’s voice was small, her face was wearing a pained look, and she cast her eyes towards the girl she hoped would be her charge but whom she could now see haring out the back gates with her bundle.
‘Do you think she realises that she has set this whole household agog today, and, from what I can gather, not only today? Do you think she knows that she’s got all the staff against her?’
‘Yes, yes, I think she does, madam.’
‘You think she does?’ The head was turned towards Biddy again, and now the question was put to her: ‘Do you know, girl, that you have got all the staff against you? And for whatever time you stay in this house, long or short, their feelings towards you, if I know anything about that class, will remain the same, if not intensify. Do you know that, girl?’
What had she to lose? She was for the road in any case. Yet, of a sudden, she didn’t want to be for the road; she somehow felt that she would like to work for this old woman. Why? She didn’t know, because she could be a holy terror, she could see that. A small section of her mind asked her how the master would have answered in this case; and then he was in her mind, pushing the words through her throat, into her mouth, and they came out as she said, ‘I know fine well, madam, how I am looked upon by the staff, but I would be willing to put up with that if I could be employed in your service, and although I cannot promise you truthfully I shall never read or write again, I can promise that I shall work well for you and give you my loyalty for as long as you need me, that is, if Miss Hobson—’ She now glanced at Jessie Hobson, whose face seemed to have stretched the other way, as she ended, ‘if she will guide me to know your wants.’
It was then that the most surprising thing happened, surprising not only to Biddy, or to the lady’s maid, but to Diana Gullmington herself, for she put her head back and she laughed. She laughed heartily for the first time for many a long day, for she found that she was being both amused and interested by this creature from below stairs, well below stairs.
When the water from her eyes made rivulets down through the powder and rouge, Jessie grabbed at a fine lawn handkerchief from a box on the table to the side of her and as she handed it to her mistress she smiled at her. ‘Take her away and get her decently clothed,’ the old lady said.
Six
During the time the domestic upheaval was taking place Stephen and Laurence were touring France; May was with a distant cousin enjoying for the first time the London season; Paul was staying with a schoolfriend in Durham; and Lucy had only on that particular morning taken a coach to Doncaster where she was to spend some weeks of her summer holiday with the family of her father’s cousin. She had travelled chaperoned by the family’s children’s governess, who had been sent to escort her. This was the second year she had holidayed with this family; the first time she enjoyed it immensely as there were three sons all older than her, besides two who were younger, and to all she had been able to show off her prowess as a horsewoman.
So it was that only when each of them returned at different times during the next weeks did they learn of the uproar that the laundry maid had caused yet once again; and their reactions were all different.
Stephen had said, ‘She isn’t up there? Not on your life!’ May had said, ‘It’s disgraceful. How could you allow it, Mama?’ And her mama had answered her with one word, ‘Grandmama,’ which told all. Lucy Gullmington had actually stamped her foot and declared that if she should cross her path, she would slap her face for her, to which Laurence had replied quietly, ‘I shouldn’t do that if I were you for in some curious way that child has a habit of winning.’ To which Lucy had replied, ‘Child, indeed! She’s no child; if she’s a child I’m a child. She’s an upstart skivvy, and I’ll never be able to understand you taking her part.’ And May had put in at this stage, ‘He does it just to vex you…and me. Don’t you, Laurence?’ And Laurence had said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
The only person who didn’t make any comment at all was Paul, and Laurence took note of this and didn’t like what it signified…
He had only been in the house a few hours when he paid a visit to the west wing to be greeted by Diana Gullmington holding her arms out to him and crying wholeheartedly, ‘Oh, I am glad to see you back. Do you know I have been very worried, especially when I learned there were summer storms at sea.’
‘Oh, Grandmama—’ He kissed her on both cheeks, then took his seat beside her as he said, ‘The crossing was the proverbial millpond. Of course it had to be; I ordered the waters to be still. However strong Stephen’s stomach is on land, it becomes a weak thing when it is set upon water. He had a fearful time going over.’
‘Did you enjoy your trip? Tell me, tell me all about it.’
‘Oh, yes, we enjoyed it thoroughly. Paris I found very civilised at the moment.’
‘Really!’ the old lady cut in now. ‘Civilised you say? Which Napoleon is it who’s trying to scare the world now? Candidly, Laurie’—she put her hand upon his knee—‘I’ve been worried all the time you and Stephen have been over there. Civilised, you say?’
‘Well, in Paris that is, but as one travels through the country there’s a great deal of poverty, but it’s a different kind of poverty from here.’
‘Poverty!’ She stressed the word. ‘You didn’t go to France to seek out poverty.’
‘But if it’s staring you in the face, Grandmama, you can’t help but see it, and smell it.’
‘Oh!’ She wagged her hand in front of his face and her nose twitched as if she was already experiencing the stink as she said, ‘Thank God you’re not going in for politics, although at one time I used to think you should, because the trouble with you, unlike Stephen, you would be voicing your own opinions and that would never do in Parliament.’
He wasn’t aware of the door opening or that anyone had entered the room until she looked beyond him, saying, ‘What is it, girl?’ And now he turned in his chair and saw a young person, tall and slim. She was wearing a pale blue cotton dress edged at the neck by a small white collar and white cuffs at her wrists. On her auburn hair was a small cap which in no way covered her head, but was perched like a crown in the centre of it. The face underneath the cap was cream-skinned, the cheeks flushed slightly pink; the eyes were deep brown and long-lashed; the eyebrows followed the bone formation; the mouth was large but well-shaped; the nose was small and the chin firm. The girl was the same, yet not the same as the one he had lifted down from the laundry dryer. That face had appeared like one on the point of death, this face emphasised glowing life. He thought he had never seen a face that expressed life so vividly, yet in which way he found it hard to define, for she wasn’t smiling; her expression, he would say, was neutral.
‘I have brought your milk, madam.’ Biddy set the small tray with a glass of milk on the side table, and the old lady said, ‘My goodness, is it time for that again?’ Then looking at Laurence, she added, ‘That old fool Pritchard has stopped my afternoon wine. He says it’s going to my legs. I told him not to be an ass; good wine never drops below the chest.’ She gurgled at her own joke; and Laurence joined her, then asked, ‘How are they?’ And she, looking down at her blue taffeta skirt, said, ‘Still there I suppose, but sometimes I don’t know what use they are. Why should this happen to us? I ask you. I’ve lived a moderate life; I’ve never exceeded three glasses at dinner, never; I like my afternoon nip, but what’s that, I ask you…Girl!’ She was now yelling at Biddy, and Biddy half-way to the door turned about, and the old woman, still yelling,
cried, ‘What have I told you about waiting to be dismissed?’
‘I thought madam having company…’
‘You’re not here to think. I’ve also told you that. Away with you.’
Once the door closed she asked of Laurence, ‘What do you make of that, eh? Did you ever see the likes, how she answers back?’ Then thrusting her face towards him, and her eyes twinkling and her lips pursed, she said, ‘I’ll let you into a secret. I enjoy her in a way. You know why?’
‘No, Grandmama.’
‘She’s not afraid of me. Now isn’t that strange? She’s not afraid of me. Old Hobson was scared out of her wits for the first year or so, and she’s been with me now all of thirty years and at times she’s still scared. But that one, with her reading and writing which I’ve forbidden her to continue, she’s of a new generation, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I do think so, Grandmama.’
She leant back, surveying him through narrowed eyes as she said, ‘I suppose you’ve heard all about the rumpus and the reason why I brought her up here?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded his head slowly at her. ‘I’ve heard one version of the reason, diplomacy with regards to Stephen and Parliament. But that wasn’t the real reason, was it?’
She grinned at him now as she said, ‘It’s the only satisfaction I get out of life, opposing her. I’m very loyal in my likes and dislikes, Laurence, and I’ve never forgiven Tony for landing me with a daughter-in-law like her. Why should he pick such a mealy-mouthed, pious piece, I ask you? He was a rake and was off with this hussy and that, and I’d rather have had any one of them any day of the week than that one.’ She thumbed towards the bedhead. ‘And he became a different character once she got him. He’s almost as mealy-mouthed now as she is. Do you know he was the means of two servants being sent packing with their bellies full in his young days? Did you know that?’
He hadn’t known that and he didn’t smile at the new knowledge.
‘Of course he couldn’t hold a candle to his father. As for his grandfather, whose exploits Harold regaled me with on our wedding night during the time he had breath’—she pulled a face now before going on, ‘it would appear that if any male servant wished to marry a female one, he had to get his leave, and his price was to test the qualities of the future bride.’ She now stopped, her eyes narrowing still further as she said, ‘You’re not amused, are you, Laurence?’
‘No, Grandmama, I can’t say I am.’
‘You’re not against women, are you?’ The question was serious and he answered her seriously, ‘No, Grandmama, I’m not against them, not at all.’
‘How many have you had so far?’
He rose slowly from the bed, saying now, ‘That is my business and mine only.’
‘Oh’—she flapped her hand at him—‘don’t you start being mealy-mouthed, else that’ll be the end of me. Go on, get yourself away.’
He didn’t obey her, but smiling now, he leant towards her, saying softly, ‘You know what you are? You are a wicked old woman.’
She stared back into his face for a moment before replying, ‘Wicked I may be, but old I’m not, except from here.’ And now she brought her hand across her eyebrows, then added, ‘Admitted from here downwards, but above that, I am no more than thirty.’
He laughed out aloud now, saying, ‘You’re right, perfectly right.’
‘Laurence’—her voice was low now—‘have you thought of marrying?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’ve thought of marrying, but that’s in the future.’
‘Anyone in your eye?’
He cocked his head as if considering, then looking back at her, he said, ‘No, no-one in particular.’
‘Have you ever thought of May?’
The question brought him ramrod straight, and now he drew his chin into his cravat before repeating, ‘May! You mean as a wife?’
‘Yes, I mean as a wife.’
‘Oh, Grandmama, you must be joking. She’s…she’s…’
‘She’s not, she’s no blood connection with you whatever. Well, if there is any there it’s such a thin line it wouldn’t help to make a spider’s web.’
‘That may be so, but she is my sister in all other ways.’
‘She is not your sister in all other ways, and she’s got you lined up.’
‘Oh, Grandmama’—he gave a slight laugh now—‘this is sheer imagination.’
Her manner changing abruptly, she said, ‘Don’t tell me that I imagine such things. I am versed in the ways of both women and men. I can interpret a look half a mile away, so to speak. May is fond of you, more than fond of you.’
‘Well, if that is the case, Grandmama, she’s going to be very disappointed, because I don’t, and never have, and never will, consider May as anything but a sister.’
‘You’re a fool then. Next to Stephen, she could be very well off when I go. As for you, do I have to remind you that you haven’t got a penny?’
‘No, you don’t have to remind me, and I am very conscious that I owe my upbringing to you, but as for not having a penny, I understand that I shall come into a little money when I am twenty-five, and in the meantime, if I had to, I could earn my living by teaching. In any case, I mean to teach, and this will bring me in enough to live on.’
‘Money when you’re twenty-five, and what will that be? A measly three hundred pounds a year. It wouldn’t keep you in cigars.’
‘Then I won’t have to smoke cigars. Goodbye, Grandmama. I’ll see you later.’ As he turned abruptly from her, she called after him, ‘Pighead. Stupid, shortsighted pighead.’ And after he had closed the door her voice still came to him.
As he was passing down the hallway Jessie came out of the adjoining room, and he paused for a moment and after exchanging glances with her he shook his head before hurrying along the gallery and to the double doors. As he neared them, one opened and Biddy came through, and she sidestepped quickly and held it back so that he could pass. And he had gone through without a word to her and she was about to close it when, swinging round, he took a step backwards and, stabbing his finger towards her chest, he muttered, ‘Don’t let her stop you reading. Do you understand? Do it on the quiet, on the sly, but don’t stop.’
Her eyes wide, she moved her head once as she said, ‘I won’t, sir;’ then added, ‘I haven’t.’
‘You haven’t?’
‘No, sir, I haven’t, I mean stopped reading.’
He stared at her for a moment longer, his face still expressing his annoyance; then, he gave a shaky laugh before saying, ‘Good. Good. Keep it up,’ then turned from her.
Jessie was waiting for her at the dressing room door and immediately said, ‘You shouldn’t have told him that. What if he lets it out downstairs?’ She pointed towards the carpet, and to this Biddy answered, ‘He won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I…I can’t tell, but somehow I don’t feel he would give me away.’
‘You know, girl,’ Jessie said, ‘sometimes I think you take too much on yourself, and one of these days it will trip you up. And where will you be then? Flat on your face. Go on’—she gave her a slight push—‘get the bath ready. And I’m warning you, be prepared for squalls because she’s got to take it out on somebody, and I know who that’ll be tonight.’ She nodded and smiled grimly, and Biddy, looking at the kindly woman over her shoulder, said, ‘Yes, and I do an’ all.’
Seven
Biddy’s leave day had been altered, but Jean would still continue to go to the house. Davey would now accompany her, and this, Biddy guessed, would add to the pleasure of her visit because, as had been evident for a long time, she had definitely cottoned on to Davey. However, Biddy wasn’t sure that the feeling was returned in that way by her brother. Somehow you could never be sure how their Davey really felt.
And not only had her leave day changed but she had been deprived of one by way of punishment, and so it was a month before she saw her mother and Johnny and Maggie again.
Riah, of course, had be
en given all the news from Davey and Jean, but she knew nothing about the workings in the domain in the west wing. And now, sitting on the bank of the stream while the two younger children splashed in the water, Biddy regaled her with the daily routine in madam’s household. And at this point, Riah exclaimed in amazement, ‘You’ve got to bathe her?’
‘Aha, every inch of her.’ Biddy now spluttered and put her hand over her mouth. ‘The first time I helped Miss Hobson I thought I would have died, I did, Ma, I thought I would have died. All the stuff had to be taken off her face with grease.’
‘And you had to do that?’
‘Well, not for the first week or so, but now I do it.’
‘And bathe her?’
‘Well, yes, I help. Oh, and Ma, oh’—she closed her eyes and shook her head—‘you wouldn’t believe it, because she looks so grand, regal, like an old queen when she’s sitting up all dressed, even in bed she looks like that, but in the bath, you know what I likened her to in me own mind? A long piece of wrinkled clay with four sticks attached.’
‘Oh, lass.’ Riah was now flapping her hand at Biddy while she rocked herself backwards and forwards.
Biddy, in her element now, went on to describe the preparation. ‘Imagine that’s the bath.’ She pointed to two rocks sticking out of the bank. ‘Well, at the top end, on the outside of course’—she bobbed her head now—‘there’s two hooks and on these goes a special towel, and it covers the whole top of the bath, and madam sits on this, I mean she’s lowered on to it so that none of the spelks stick in her.’ She swallowed and muttered. ‘You know what? The funny thing is the towel keeps floating up between her legs and it’s all I can do at times not to burst out laughing. That is until she starts on us if the water’s not warm enough, or it’s too warm, or the soap slips and we have a job to find it. Eeh, Ma!’—her face became serious now—‘I just don’t know how Miss Hobson managed on her own. No wonder she can hardly walk on her feet ’cos even with the both of us we’re running all day to her bidding…madam’s bidding, but—’ Her expression changed again and, laughing once more, she said, ‘But when we get her out of the bath she has to be powdered all over, you know like you used to put Fuller’s Earth all round Maggie. Well, it’s just like that except this is very scented powder. Oh, it has a lovely smell. And she has cream put on her face every night, and then last thing a kind of a strap under her chin. I’m not joking, Ma. Listen…stop laughing, it’s the truth.’
The Black Velvet Gown Page 30