The Black Velvet Gown

by Catherine Cookson

  It was John Thompson she saw when she descended the main staircase. This man had been more kindly disposed towards her than any of the other male staff. And now he greeted her quietly, saying, ‘What is it, lass? I’ve never seen you down here afore at this time, or at any other time for that matter, not in this part of the house.’ He smiled, and she said, ‘I’ve got a message from madam. She wishes you to wake Mr Laurence and tell him she wants to see him immediately…before breakfast.’

  He leant his face towards her, saying, ‘Something up?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head; then again, on a higher note, ‘No, except’ – she made herself smile now—‘she’s had a sleepless night and she wants to take it out on somebody. Miss Hobson and me are not enough.’

  He laughed now, saying, ‘By, she’s a tartar. But we still know who rules the roost, don’t we?’ He pulled a face at her and she answered, ‘Yes, we still know who rules the roost. Will you give the message, Mr Thompson?’

  ‘Yes, I will, lass. Here, just a minute.’ He touched her arm as she turned away, and now he looked from his right to his left before quietly saying, ‘I’m glad you bested them,’ and he jerked his head towards the servants’ corridor. ‘By, you did that, especially Ma Fulton! Keep at it, lass.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Thompson. I’ll try.’ With quiet dignity she turned about and went up the main staircase knowing that he was watching her. As she made her way back to the west wing, she thought, Wait till the news breaks and they know I’m accompanying Miss Lucy abroad. It’ll burn some of them up. And for a moment she felt a wave of satisfaction pass over her.

  What she did next was to go into Jessie Hobson’s room. Jessie was still sound asleep, and so she left her, but she thought as she did so, She’s got to know. Yet why should she? Miss Lucy could really be going to school in France, finishing, they called it, like when the young men went away on world tours to finish. But finish what? She didn’t know, she only knew one thing, that poor Miss Hobson was going to find things hard having to run, fetch and carry all on her own again. But likely she would get help; there were plenty downstairs who would jump into the position, given the chance…

  It was not more than fifteen minutes later when she saw Mr Laurence coming towards her from the gallery. She could see that he had donned his trousers, but was still wearing his bedroom slippers and a brown corded dressing-gown. She also noticed that he must have sluiced his face, likely to waken himself up, because the front of his hair was wet. He asked of her immediately, ‘What is it? Is there something wrong?’ And she answered hesitantly, ‘Yes, in a way, sir. Yes.’

  ‘She’s ill?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that, sir, but she’ll…madam will tell you. Would…would you like a cup of tea, sir?’

  He had moved from her towards the bedroom door, but turned his head and said, ‘Yes. Yes, I would, Biddy. That would be nice.’ Then he went into the room.

  She did not hurry with the tea-making; she wanted to give madam time to tell him all she knew and what she intended to do about it.

  When she eventually tapped on the door while balancing a small silver tray on one hand and entered the room, she was surprised by the lack of discussion taking place. Mr Laurence was sitting in the chair she had vacated earlier, madam was propped up in bed, and they were both looking towards her.

  She put the tray on a small table and placed it at his side, and he looked at her and muttered, ‘Thank you,’ the while he continued to stare at her.

  Now madam spoke to her, saying, ‘Mr Laurence agrees with what I told you earlier. But the matter must be dealt with slowly. He will go across to France with you both and see you settled in with the family.’

  ‘No, Grandmama.’ He was looking at her. ‘I told you, it can’t be with that family. They have too many connections in London, and…’

  ‘All right. All right. It’s all right.’ She had closed her eyes tightly and her bony hand was flapping in a protesting movement as she said, ‘Yes, yes, you’ve told me. But I still think it’s a pity. They’ll need supervision, both of them.’

  ‘Well, I’ll see that they get that, Grandmama. But the centre of Paris is no place to settle them. Anyway, I’ll think of something.’

  ‘You do that. You do that. And’—her face brightened a little—‘you could put it to them that you are going across to France to settle the matter. What I mean is, to make arrangements for her supposed school et cetera. And…and I think it would be a good idea if you did go across beforehand, and make sure of their apartments. Then take them over just before you return to Oxford. What do you say?’

  Biddy watched him nip on his lower lip. She watched his eyelids blink. Then he almost jumped, as she did, when madam barked with her usual daytime voice. ‘It’s got to look natural.’ And she lay back and put her hand to her head as she muttered, ‘Why should I have this at my time of life? It isn’t right.’ Now she was glaring at him. ‘It isn’t, is it, Laurence?’

  ‘No, Grandmama.’

  ‘But you can see the result of what exposure would mean? She would be ruined for life, the stupid little fool. But what will be much more important to her mother and father is that they would never be able to live this down.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He put his hand soothingly on hers and patted it and said again, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see to things.’

  She looked at him, her expression showing pain now as she said, ‘Don’t worry. You say, don’t worry. My worry’s only starting. I’ll be worrying about her all the time she’s over there, and having her child in a strange country when the experiencing of such an event should occur with her family about her. And to think’—she poked her face up now from the pillow—‘it’ll be their first grandchild. Oh, it isn’t to be tolerated. Don’t worry, you say. Then there’s those Frenchmen. I know what they are like…’

  ‘Biddy here, will be with her, and’—he turned and looked at Biddy—‘I think she’ll be able to manage most Frenchmen. What do you say, Biddy?’

  Biddy stared back at him. Only yesterday she hadn’t been able to manage a young Englishman. What she said was, ‘Shall I pour your tea, sir?’ And he answered, ‘Yes, please.’

  She poured out the tea and was about to turn away and leave the room when madam’s voice checked her, saying, ‘And I’ll be losing her an’ all, and Hobson is dying on her feet.’

  ‘You’ll have to have someone else to take her place, Grandmama.’

  ‘Who? One of the dudheads from downstairs?’

  Biddy had reached the door when madam’s voice halted her yet again, saying, ‘A moment, girl.’ When she turned and looked across the room towards her, the old lady exclaimed, ‘You have a sister, haven’t you? How old is she?’

  ‘Fourteen, madam.’

  ‘Fourteen. Is she bright?’

  ‘She’s as I was at her age. She can read and write.’

  ‘Never mind about reading and writing, is she bright in other ways?’

  ‘Yes, madam. But…but she helps my mother.’

  ‘From what I understand of your mother’s situation, she’s in need of money. You will go home presently and tell her that your sister will take your place for the next few months and she will be paid well. She will begin on three shillings a week and I shall see it is paid to her every fortnight. As for you, while you are acting as companion, five shillings per week will be paid to your mother for you.’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ A minute later, standing in the kitchen, she repeated, ‘Five shillings a week and three shillings a week, and everything found for Maggie,’ and in her own case, the means of travelling to a new world. It didn’t seem real. Nothing seemed real.

  She was standing at the small sink looking out through the window beyond that gave a view of the side gardens when the door opened and she turned expecting to see Miss Hobson. But it was Laurence who stood there, and he didn’t speak until he had crossed the small room and stood by her side. Then looking down into her face, he said softly, ‘When…when is the ch
ild expected?’

  ‘I’m not sure, sir.’

  ‘It is sad, very sad, and, if I may say so, strange that she should confide in you.’

  ‘I thought so too, sir, yet…yet she seems changed.’

  ‘Yes, I had noticed that, particularly these last few weeks. She must have been very worried.’

  ‘She was, sir. She is.’

  ‘They say good comes out of evil. I would have dismissed that until this moment, because I think this is a wonderful opportunity for you. There’s nothing expands the mind like travel, and you were interested in French, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But I must say that I would rather not have had my education extended at such a cost to Miss Lucy.’

  He didn’t answer for a moment, and then he said softly, ‘No. No, you are right, Biddy, the cost is high. Yet I must tell you that once you have been abroad, you’ll never feel the same again; I doubt if you will be content to take up this kind of duty.’ His hand made a wavering motion which took in not only the room but the whole house. ‘And as I see it, there’ll be no reason why you should, because I should think you would be qualified to teach. There is a movement ahead to provide schools for poor children, but apart from that, you could go as governess. Would you like that?’

  ‘I would sir, very much.’ He was looking into her face now and she into his and her eyes became misted and for a moment she imagined his face moved closer to hers; but the mist cleared and he was standing exactly as he had been before, only now his hand came up and rested gently against her cheek, and it was with the greatest of efforts that she stopped her own fingers from covering his. Then his voice little above a whisper, he said, ‘You are a remarkable girl, Biddy.’

  His fingers left her face. He looked at her a moment longer, then he went out. And she turned and leant against the sink and her hands gripped its stone edge until her nails hurt.

  Ten

  The commotion in the house was worse, Jessie said, than when Mr Riddle brought his small tribe of chimney-sweeping boys.

  The family always went away in September so that the servants could deal with the soot that even the best of Mr Riddle’s team brought down in scuttlefuls. The only one who seemed to enjoy the invasion by the tiny boys, aged from seven to ten, was madam. Often she would be wheeled to the gallery window to watch their scurrying backwards and forwards across the yard with the bags of soot. And once, it was said, she had gone into the laundry yard to watch them being washed after they had finished their week’s work. It was known that Mr Riddle’s boys liked coming to The Heights, for they were always fed well, and each had a sixpenny piece given to him before he left. It was also known that the same boys never came more than twice: they had either died or grown too big for the chimneys.

  So the sweep week, as it was known, was a week of commotion. As were the following three in getting the place shipshape again to receive the family back. Yet this didn’t happen until September. But here they were only part way through July and the whole house in a buzz, all because Miss Lucy had absolutely refused to go back to her own school and madam had decided that she should be finished off in France. And so she was going to stay with Master Laurence’s friends and be educated with the young members of the family.

  But what was causing the biggest verbal commotion downstairs was the fact that madam had insisted that that one, that laundry slut, should accompany Miss Lucy as maid. Did you ever in all your life hear of anything like it?

  When it first came to Mrs Fulton’s ears, they said she had almost collapsed, and she had asked for an audience, not with the mistress, but with madam, because she was only too well aware who ruled the house, and she felt that madam should know that the girl she was having trained as a lady’s maid was of questionable character. And she had explained the proof she had of this.

  No-one knew what madam had said to her, except that she had been told to come back within the hour.

  The result of Mrs Fulton’s visit was that madam asked Biddy the meaning of her torn clothes, and Biddy unhesitatingly answered, ‘I was attacked by Mr Paul, madam, and Miss Lucy beat him off. It was following this she gave me her confidence because she saw I could have been placed in a similar predicament to herself.’

  No-one knew what madam had said to Mrs Fulton on her second visit, only that the lady descended to her own quarters with a very white face and had not been approachable for some time…

  Riah had taken Biddy’s news in dumb silence. She had always known that this child of hers was different and that one day she would achieve something. Yet still, she couldn’t believe that she was going across the sea to that place where they had revolutions and people’s heads were chopped off. In the ordinary way it was a place where only the gentry were able to go but her daughter was going; true, as maid to a young lady, but nevertheless she was going. And what was more, she was losing her other daughter, at least for the time being, she was told.

  At first she had protested at Maggie’s going to the house, but Maggie had cried and begged to be given the chance. And, as she pointed out, there was the three shillings a week and not having her to feed or clothe.

  Biddy had told her she was to get five shillings a week. It was all too good to be true, or would have been if she herself was happy, for now she’d be left alone in this house with only Johnny, and he so restless that she wouldn’t be surprised to find him gone one morning.

  And so came the morning of departure. The luggage was packed in the coach that was to take them to where the boat sailed for France. Biddy’s mind was in such a whirl that at times, even up till an hour ago, she had closed her eyes tightly and asked herself if she was awake and not dreaming.

  She kissed Maggie goodbye and, looking down at her, she said, ‘Do everything you’re told, and don’t be afraid of madam. She shouts a lot, as you’ve heard, but you’ll get used to her.’

  Then in Jessie’s sitting room, when she held out her hand to the old woman, Jessie had put her arms around her and kissed her, and there were tears in her eyes as she said, ‘Take care of yourself, lass.’ And leaning close to Biddy she had whispered under her breath, ‘I don’t know what it’s really all about but I’m no fool. Anyway, take care of her, because you’ve got a head on your shoulders. Goodbye, lass, and God go with you.’ Her own eyes were wet when she went into the bedroom and stood before the figure in the chair sitting near the window.

  Madam stared at her; then extending her hand, she clutched at Biddy’s, saying, ‘Take care of her now, and when it is born bring her back. Laurence will see about an adoption. I’m relying on you to see that all goes smoothly. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘You won’t lose by this, girl, I promise you.’

  ‘I want nothing more, madam.’

  ‘A girl in your position will always need more if she means to rise to the top of her station. Goodbye now. Keep me informed.’

  ‘I will, madam.’ She bent her knee and turned and walked hurriedly out of the room.

  On this occasion she did not go down the back stairs. The coach was waiting at the front door, and she walked with straight back and head up towards the communicating doors, then on to the long gallery where she surprised a number of the servants standing at the windows. But they all turned from watching Mr Laurence helping Miss Lucy up into the carriage to look at the Millican chit walking towards the main staircase as if, as they said later, she owned the place. But she wouldn’t have dared to do that if the family had been at home. It was a pity they had to leave for London yesterday to attend Miss May’s engagement party. And it was also a pity that Miss Lucy wasn’t going along with them. There had been ructions between the master and mistress because old madam had got this idea into her head about her granddaughter’s education. But they all knew who would win; like in every other way of life, it was the one who held the purse-strings that called the tune. But oh, the mistress had been upset. She had even called in Parson Weeks to speak to madam. But what had happen
ed there nobody knew except that the poor man came downstairs with a face like a beetroot.

  When Biddy reached the foot of the stairs Thomas Froggett turned from the front doors and, his mouth agape, he watched her walk towards him, then pass him without a glance in his direction, and the sound he made was something between a hiss and a choking cough.

  The two footmen were standing near the carriage, and John Thompson would have helped her into it, but Mr Laurence, his hand on her elbow, assisted her up the steps; then he himself followed. James Simpson closed the door. Bill Mottram on the box shouted, ‘Gee up, there!’ And then they were off, leaving behind a mostly indignant and wondering staff.

  Even Davey, who had watched the performance from a stable door while standing the chaff of the other boys about his sister rising in the world, felt indignant that their Biddy was once again doing something that brought her to the fore and made her more disliked than she already was.

  In the carriage, Lucy sat in silence beside Laurence, with Biddy sitting opposite to them until the coach was passing through the gates when she looked out of the window to where the lodgekeeper was raising his hat to her, and she said, ‘I don’t care if I never ride through these gates again.’ And Laurence, catching hold of her hand, said, ‘Oh, now, now, Lucy, don’t say that.’ And she turned her gaze on him as she said, quietly, ‘It’s true, Laurence.’ Then looking at Biddy, she asked her, ‘Would you like to stop and say goodbye to your mother?’ And Biddy answered, ‘Yes, if you don’t mind, miss, I would.’

  ‘It’s been arranged already. Mottram knows when to stop.’ Laurence smiled from one to the other.

  ‘You know, you’re like Grandmama, Laurence, you think of everything.’

  He answered her jokingly, saying, ‘I’m not like Grandmama, Lucy; I could never get up to her pitch if I tried. Moreover, her cosmetics wouldn’t suit my complexion.’