by Nancy Carson
One Wednesday evening Daisy and Lawson were invited for supper at the house of one of his well-to-do friends. They played whist and the lady of the house played piano and sang very pleasantly for them. It was a convivial evening and Daisy drank port. She was becoming very attached to port; it seemed to boost her confidence. Lawson never embarrassed her by letting on to any of his high-class friends that the lovely young lady who accompanied him was merely a servant; which had more to do with his own self-esteem than hers, although that never crossed her mind.
When they left and were in the cabriolet, she asked him the question that was consuming her. ‘Are you married, Lawson?’
He guffawed and almost spooked the horse. ‘Good God, no. Whatever gave you that idea?’
She shrugged in the darkness, but felt anxiety slough off her like a constricting skin, since he was manifestly not lying. ‘Because you’ve never taken me to your home. I wondered if you were hiding a wife there. I just wonder if you are serious about me, if you really care for me.’
‘Oh, I’m in dead earnest, my love,’ he answered directly, looking into her wide eyes. ‘But my home is like the Sack of Carthage and you would not be impressed … Besides, there are two more reasons why I ain’t taken you there. Firstly, whilst I can hardly wait to lure you into my bed, I want to behave like a gentleman. You see, despite this ardent desire to bed you, I respect you and regard you as a lady, even though sometimes you don’t quite see yourself as one.’
‘Oh, Lawson … I appreciate I’m not a lady born and bred, but I do try … I do try to be like a lady,’ she protested.
‘So would you like me to show you my home?’
‘I’d love you to.’
‘Right. I shall make a very determined effort to have the house cleaned up and made presentable. Then I shall invite you to dinner and you will dine like a lady. We shall have a very romantic evening of it and I might even ply you with strong drink …’
‘Strong drink?’ She chuckled at the inference. ‘Shall I need strong drink?’
The following night, Sarah went to Daisy’s room for a gossip and to have a moan about another of the girls. They dispensed with those trivialities quickly and Daisy saw this as an opportunity to confess what she should have confessed weeks ago.
‘Sarah,’ she began quietly, taking Sarah’s hand and holding it gently. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I hope you won’t despise me but it’s been worrying me exactly how to tell you. So I’ve decided to come straight out with it … I’ve been seeing Lawson Maddox … regularly, in my free time … I know how you’ve admired Lawson yourself, Sarah, so I think it’s only fair I should let you know … We’re in love and very serious about each other. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if—’
‘You’re courting Lawson?’ Sarah said tersely. ‘Even though you know I fancy him? That’s not very nice, our Daisy. That’s not a very nice trick to pull across your sister.’ She withdrew her hand from Daisy’s, aggrieved, and shuffled agitatedly on the bed.
‘There was no intention to slight you, Sarah.’ Daisy was struggling to state her case without seeming insensitive. ‘It just happened. We met and suddenly there was this magic … Oh, I love him dearly …’
‘And does he love you?’
‘Oh, yes. He says so – often … Oh, please don’t be resentful, Sarah. I had hoped for your good wishes.’
‘You told me once that gentlemen don’t marry servants.’
‘And what I said holds true. But Lawson is not gentry born and bred. His father was only a corn merchant. But Lawson’s done well for himself. For all his hob-nobbing with the well-to-do, he doesn’t see any distinction between us.’
‘Lucky you,’ Sarah said scornfully and made as if to rise from Daisy’s bed.
Daisy took her hand again to prevent her going. ‘Wish me well, Sarah,’ she pleaded. ‘You know that Lawson is much too old for you anyway.’
Sarah shrugged but remained where she was. ‘All the same, it doesn’t mean to say you can’t fancy somebody older.’
Daisy could see from the look in Sarah’s piqued eyes that she was coming round, that she just wanted a fuss made of her. ‘You’re such a beautiful creature, our Sarah, men will be falling over themselves to win you. I bet the boys are already lining up.’
The compliment elicited a smile from Sarah. She shrugged again, shyly. ‘There is one lad who comes to the kitchen most days. One of the delivery lads.’
‘Oh? How old?’
‘Eighteen.’
‘That’s more the age for you, our Sarah. Far more sensible. What’s his name?’
‘Roland.’
‘So who does he work for?’
‘Parker’s.’
‘And you like him?’
‘Yes. He makes me laugh.’
Daisy nodded her assent, glad that they’d got that one big hurdle out of the way, content to condone Sarah’s flirting with a grocery boy. ‘Well, that’s nice. But don’t get too serious at your age. There’ll be plenty more, I promise.’
Chapter 5
Lawson did not employ a live-in maid-of-all-work to do his domestic chores, for such an arrangement would have been unseemly for a bachelor of his standing. He chose not to employ a man-servant either, or a married couple to look after him. Hence, he lived his life alone. His laundry he sent out regularly and usually he dined at whichever hostelry he happened to be in when he was hungry.
Although he had some respect for his surroundings, it was only when he sent for Molly Kettle and her young daughter, Flossie to clean for him that the house became truly tidy. Flossie was the pretty girl who had cursorily inspected Daisy as she sat in his cabriolet in Albert Street while he wheedled seriously overdue rent out of her mother. The cleaning was in lieu of part of the rent that Molly owed.
This particular series of cleaning events, as well as some serious redecorating by a local tradesman, took some weeks and Lawson, whenever he saw Daisy, would enthuse about how fine and dandy it was all turning out.
Daisy was completely overwhelmed that he was going to all this trouble to impress her. The very thought made her smile with satisfaction. Marriage had to be his intention. If he merely wanted to seduce her he could have rented a room at the Dudley Arms Hotel or at any number of inns in the area. But he wouldn’t do that. Already he’d told her he wanted to be gentlemanly; he wanted to treat her like a lady and she relished his consideration.
Not that she would have baulked at being seduced before her wedding night. She knew that a girl’s initiation must happen sooner or later, and suspected that it would be memorable wherever and whenever it happened. She imagined that farm girls who lost their maidenhood in some dusty hayloft recalled it just as readily and with as much pleasure as if it had occurred in the warmth and luxury of their master’s and mistress’s soft featherbed. Daisy knew from talking to girls that some of them used the graves of the dear departed in the town’s bone yards as a bed. But such licentious outdoor shenanigans were not for her; they were hardly the antics of a lady.
Meanwhile, a dinner party had been planned at the Cooksons’ for 16th March. Invited guests were the wealthy and very eminent Mr and Mrs Alexander Gibson, Alderman and Mrs George Folkes, whom Daisy had never seen before, and Mr and Mrs Ernest Bagnall of Tipton, whom she had. The best silver was of course to be used. On the morning of the party Daisy asked one of the maids, Elsie Morpeth, to make sure every piece was all cleaned and ready. As noon approached she was stopped in the passageway to the kitchen by the same Elsie.
‘Oh, Miss, some of the silver’s a-missing,’ she informed her, wringing her hands as if anticipating being blamed for it.
‘Missing?’ Daisy queried incredulously. ‘How can any be missing?’
Elsie shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Miss, but they bain’t nowhere. I’n searched high and low.’
‘Which pieces can’t you find, Elsie?’
‘At fust, I thought as it was just two servin’ platters, but when I come to fill the salt cella
r, I could see as the cruet’s gone an’ all.’
‘They have to be somewhere,’ Daisy said calmly. ‘Things don’t just go missing.’
At that point, Mrs Cookson came along. ‘Good morning, ladies.’ She always greeted her girls as ladies. ‘Is everything all right?’
Daisy naturally felt obliged to report what Elsie had just told her and did so. ‘I wonder if it has anything to do with that burglary in January,’ she suggested.
‘No, Daisy. I think not. We have used the silver since then and nothing was missing.’
‘Yes, you’re right, ma’am. I’ll have a proper search made.’
‘Please do, Daisy. And let me know the outcome.’
‘As soon as I can, ma’am.’
Daisy went into the kitchen, which was always the centre of activity when meal times were due. She asked if anybody knew anything of the whereabouts of the missing silverware. There was a general shaking of heads. ‘Perhaps we can all double check cupboards and sideboards,’ Daisy suggested. ‘Before lunch.’
As they all dispersed, leaving Cook and a kitchen maid who had been hired just for the day to help out, Sarah beckoned Daisy to one side.
‘I think I know where the missing silver plates and cruet are,’ she said.
‘Thank God. Then you’d best tell me, our Sarah, before Mrs Cookson blows her wig.’
She took Daisy’s hand and led her out of earshot, through the heavy door of the kitchen. ‘I think they’m at the pawnbrokers in the town.’
‘At the pawnbrokers? How come they’re at a pawnbrokers?’
‘I can explain,’ Sarah bleated defensively in a pathetic little voice.
‘I think you’d better.’
‘Roland … You know, that lad I told you about …’
‘Parker’s the grocer’s boy?’
She nodded. ‘He asked me if he could borrow some silver. He asked me if I would get some for him.’
‘What the devil did he want with Mr Cookson’s best silver?’
‘He said he was going to pawn them to get money to wager on a horse. He said he needed the money desperate and he pleaded with me to help him. He said that if the horse won he would be well off and be able to buy the silver back and pay me some money for my trouble besides. I remembered all that money you won on that bet, our Daisy, and thought it would be a good idea. I mean, he was going to bring it back.’
‘Oh Sarah,’ Daisy rasped angrily. ‘Are you out of your mind? Do you know how serious this is? Didn’t you realise it wasn’t your property to lend in the first place? Do you understand what this could mean? For both of us?’
Daisy saw tears tremble on Sarah’s long lashes. The poor, innocent, beguiled child. She had never been as canny as Daisy, nor would she ever be.
‘I’m so sorry, our Daisy,’ she said sincerely. ‘I didn’t mean any harm. I just thought I would be a shilling or two better off when he brought it all back.’
‘And can he get it back? Can he get it back quick? Before Mrs Cookson finds out?’
‘Shall I run up to Parker’s and see if he’s there?’
‘I think you’d better … Right now. This minute. And don’t come back without it.’
Daisy waited on tenterhooks, concerned that Mrs Cookson might come seeking news and she would have to lie. She waited half an hour. Three quarters. An hour. Eventually, Sarah returned. She was carrying nothing and her eyes were red from crying.
‘He said he sold the pawnbroker’s ticket, our Daisy,’ she whined breathlessly. ‘I went to the shop and had a look. I asked them not to let go of the silver, as we would be back for it. But they said as it ain’t there any more. It’s already gone.’
‘Oh, my God.’ Daisy covered her face with her hands in horror. ‘You know what this means?’
‘Oh, Daisy, I’m so sorry,’ Sarah blubbered. ‘Have I got you into trouble as well?’
‘I sincerely hope not.’ Daisy sighed gravely. ‘I just wonder what’s the best way of handling it to save you getting into trouble … If I can get away with denying that I know who’s responsible I will. I’ll try and protect you. But Mrs Cookson isn’t stupid … Oh, I know you’re not the brightest of God’s children, our Sarah, but you’re no criminal. I’d better go and see Mrs Cookson.’
Daisy found Mrs Cookson just as she was about to take lunch.
‘Any news on the silverware, Daisy?’
‘Bad news, I’m afraid, ma’am. It was lent to somebody – on the strict understanding that it would be returned, of course. Sad to say, the person who borrowed it pawned it.’
‘Pawned, did you say?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Why would anyone want to pawn my silverware, Daisy?’
‘To raise money, ma’am. The idea was to gamble the money, then win enough to buy it back and return it safely here.’
‘And who was that person?’
‘I’m not certain, ma’am. One of the trades people, I believe.’
‘Daisy, you are being evasive. I want chapter and verse. If the police need to be involved, I want them here. Do you hear?’
Daisy let out a great, troubled sigh, and nodded.
‘But who from this household has been impertinent and stupid enough to lend my best silverware to one of the tradesmen?’
‘I cannot say, ma’am.’
‘Does that mean cannot, or will not?’
‘I cannot, ma’am.’
‘Very well. Then every servant in this house is under suspicion. What has happened here is tantamount to stealing and no employer will tolerate it. Lord knows, enough of this kind of thing goes on, but I thought we had earned sufficient respect from our staff to prevent such things happening in this house. I will not tolerate it and neither will Mr Cookson. We try, as employers, to be fair with everybody. We go out of our way to be fair.’
‘Indeed you do, ma’am. I have to agree. You are model employers.’
‘Does anybody below stairs have any genuine cause for complaint about how they are treated?’
‘Certainly not, ma’am.’
‘Then why are we treated so shamefully?’
‘I can’t imagine, ma’am,’ Daisy said resignedly. ‘I suspect whoever it was saw no harm in what they were doing if the silver was to be returned. Certainly, they wished you no harm.’
Mrs Cookson eyed Daisy suspiciously. ‘And I think you know more about this than you are admitting, Daisy.’
Daisy did not respond.
‘Of course, I cannot conceive that you had any hand in it.’
‘Indeed I did not, ma’am,’ she said indignantly.
‘All the same, I want the police here. I shall send Gerald with a note at once. It is the course of action my husband would take. It is the only sensible course I can take.’
‘I understand, ma’am.’
‘They will resolve this if you cannot, even if they have to arrest each and every one of the staff. Please send Gerald to see me at once.’
Daisy was hopelessly torn. She did not know whether to come out with the truth just to clear her own name. But she could not point the finger at poor Sarah and condemn her to the possibility of several years’ penal servitude when there was a chance she might still escape blame. So she said no more and went to look for Gerald.
Half an hour later, with lunch postponed, a police officer sporting a huge moustache arrived. He had everybody assembled in the kitchen and Daisy explained broadly what had happened, without naming Sarah.
‘So who was responsible for letting go this silverware?’ he asked pointedly.
Nobody answered, nobody moved.
‘Well, somebody must know.’
Everybody seemed preoccupied with looking at their shoes and not at the policeman. It was clear that nobody was going to snitch on their workmates.
‘Well I’m sure everybody wants their dinners,’ the policeman said ominously, his moustache twitching. ‘But there’ll be no dinner till I get an answer. And if I have to troop you all up to the police station,
throw you in a cell and clap you in irons, I will …’
‘It was me,’ Sarah said meekly, and then began to wail.
Mrs Cookson looked at Daisy studiedly. She had read Daisy. She knew that Daisy had deliberately tried to shield her sister, knowing all the time she was responsible for this senseless error of judgement. Daisy’s heart sank as, with dawning clarity, the implications of her obstructive vagueness intensified.
She went over to Sarah and wrapped her in her arms. ‘There, there,’ she whispered. ‘You are no criminal. You didn’t understand what you were doing, did you? Just tell the police officer exactly what happened then everything will be all right.’
Eventually Sarah ceased her weeping and, when the others had been dismissed, she told the policeman all she knew, naming Roland, the grocer’s lad. She apologised profusely to Mrs Cookson and made a formal statement admitting her part in the affair.
After lunch, Mrs Cookson sent for Daisy again. ‘Sit down, Daisy.’ Her voice was as sharp as a shard of glass.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Daisy said, trying to keep her voice even, quaking with apprehension.
‘Daisy, I am profoundly disappointed in your younger sister but, quite frankly, I am even more disappointed in you. Sarah has shown incredible stupidity in being persuaded by some scallywag to part with silver that is the property of Mr Cookson. Of course, she must be punished. I appreciate that she was duped and she is not wilfully criminal. However, I am unable to allow her to continue her employment here. Furthermore, my husband might well wish to press charges. We must not set any precedent and appear to the rest of the staff to be too lenient. If we were, we would risk others’ further exploitation. Do you see, Daisy?’
‘Yes, I see, ma’am. But do you really have to press charges?’ She sat without moving as a shaft of weak sunlight was suddenly cast across the table between them. ‘I think that is being rather harsh, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. After all, she was not the criminal element, as you have yourself implied, ma’am. She was duped.’