Alone Beneath The Heaven

by Bradshaw, Rita

  She passed the second floor on which the family’s rooms were situated and on reaching the third floor paused, taking a deep breath before walking past her rooms to Peggy’s small bedroom, which was sandwiched between her quarters on one side and Hilda’s on the other.

  The landing was lit by the weak glow of one low-watt bulb almost directly outside Peggy’s room, and as she raised her hand to knock she paused again, her stomach churning, before a small voice inside her mind that was all Maggie said, ‘Come on, lass, what are you waitin’ for? You don’t earn your wage with just the arty-farty side of things, so get on with it,’ and brought her clenched knuckles lightly against the wood. When there was no answer she waited for a few moments before knocking again, more sharply this time, only to stand irresolutely for a full minute more.

  Was Peggy asleep already? It was possible, she supposed; the day had been a long one. But then again the next one might be just as long with the family still unwell, and she needed to talk to her now. The decision made, she knocked once more before turning the handle of the door slowly, stepping into the room quietly only to find it quite empty. The possibility of Peggy having gone to talk to Hilda flashed into her mind, only to be dismissed as quickly, Hilda’s muted snores from the adjoining room proving the elderly cook was dead to the world.

  Then where was she? Sarah’s eyes screwed up as another reason for Peggy’s absence dawned, and she leant against the closed door in the darkness of the room, her hand coming across her mouth at the thought. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not here, in the house, with his wife just down the corridor . . . would she? Surely even Sir Geoffrey, licentious as he was, wouldn’t take such a risk? The thought held no conviction.

  But she was going ahead of herself here, of course she was. Peggy could be in the bathroom just down the landing, this tiny boxroom not having the facilities she and Hilda enjoyed. The possibility brought her sagging with relief before she turned and opened the door, stepping into the corridor again and making her way to the bathroom. It was empty.

  What was she going to do? Oh, what was she going to do? She stood on the threshold of the bathroom for long minutes, her arms about her waist as she swayed back and forth, her head buzzing. Part of her - a big part of her - wanted to scurry back to her room and shut the door on it all, put her head under the bedclothes and pretend what she knew was happening wasn’t real. But she was responsible for the way Peggy conducted herself whilst in Lady Harris’s employ. Her employer had made that very clear at her initial interview, both with regard to Peggy’s duties within the house and the young girl’s moral conduct without. The fact that corruption might come from within clearly hadn’t occurred to Lady Harris. Well, it hadn’t to her either, Sarah thought miserably. But with Lady Harris and his wife and children all around, Sir Geoffrey must be mad, or supremely arrogant, or both. Whatever, she had to do something about it. What if one of the invalids needed assistance and went to his rooms? Little William, or Constance?

  That possibility brought Sarah spinning round and down the landing within seconds, and once she was on the second floor, the thick piled carpet silencing any sound, she made her way to Sir Geoffrey’s room still without any clear idea of what she was going to do. She could stand guard and grab Peggy when she came out, although how she could explain her presence if one of the family happened along she didn’t know; or perhaps knock and ask for Peggy to accompany her back to her room, embarrassing as that would be? There was even the chance, faint admittedly, that Peggy hadn’t yet fully committed herself, that she would be in time to stop the maid making such a terrible mistake, if she took the bull by the horns and knocked. Fifteen, fifteen years old, and Sir Geoffrey nearly old enough to be her grandfather, let alone her father.

  She could never really explain afterwards what made her try the handle of the door. Perhaps it was some sixth sense, a feminine intuition that picked up something from the atmosphere within, despite there being no noise. What she did know was that as she approached the door to Sir Geoffrey’s rooms the hairs on the back of her neck rose and her flesh prickled, a sense of urgency overcoming her. Once inside, she walked through the small sitting room to the door beyond without pausing, although it was pitch black except for a faint beam of light from under the door leading to the bedroom and en suite. She turned the handle gently and the door opened the merest crack, but immediately she could hear thick grunting, the sound a pig might make when rooting for food, mingled with gasping sobs and the low twang of bedsprings.

  ‘No, no, please—’

  It was Peggy’s voice, followed immediately by Sir Geoffrey saying, ‘A little tease, a little tease, eh? Well this is what you get for leading a man on, my girl. Little whore, that’s all you are, and don’t you forget it. You can’t tell me you didn’t know what was in store—’

  Sarah’s thrusting open of the door and subsequent spring into the room seemed to occur in one motion, so violent was her entry, and at the sight of Sir Geoffrey’s fat white buttocks pounding a spreadeagled Peggy into the mattress her momentum didn’t stop. She had grasped his thinning hair, pulling him savagely backwards and off the young girl beneath him, before either of the pair on the bed realized what was happening, and as his face came into view she realized that Peggy had put up quite a fight at the end, whatever had gone on before. The scratches on his face were deep and fierce.

  As Sir Geoffrey arched backwards, his head making loud contact with the carved wooden surround at the foot of the bed and his naked body, with its grotesque erection, flailing helplessly, Sarah pulled the stunned and shaking Peggy up into a sitting position, noticing the blood on the bottom sheet from her brutal deflowering with a spurt of white hot anger as she tried to pull some covers around the weeping girl.

  Sir Geoffrey was on his feet now, his face livid, and making no effort to hide his nakedness, he spat, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman, have you gone mad? What gives you the right to come in here—’

  ‘Rape? Reason enough, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh no. No, no, no, you aren’t going to try that one on me. She came here of her own free will, I didn’t have to drag her screaming and kicking.’

  ‘He said, he said—’ Peggy was crying so much she was barely coherent. ‘He said that I was special, that he just wanted to talk to me and make me understand what I meant to him. I never wanted—’

  ‘Did you? Did you say that?’ Sarah hissed furiously, as Sir Geoffrey, as though becoming aware of his nakedness for the first time, grabbed his dressing gown from a chair. ‘Did you trick her here and then force her?’

  Sir Geoffrey swore, crudely and with great venom, before narrowing his eyes as he said, ‘Keep your voice down or so help me I’ll silence you myself.’

  ‘Did you force her?’

  ‘She wanted it. Damn it all, they all say no, don’t they. But she knew why she was here all right, they grow up early where she comes from—’

  ‘She is barely fifteen years old.’

  ‘There’s plenty been on their backs for years at that age.’

  ‘What are you?’ She didn’t care that he was her employer’s spoilt and adored only son, or that he was the gentry, the upper class, with wealth and privilege and power behind him. As she glared into the turkey-red face, suffused with colour from frustration and rage, Sarah saw only the man himself, and her contempt and disgust was written on her face for him to read. ‘A pervert? A sick excuse for a man, who fights the passing years with a taste for younger and younger flesh?’ It was so near the truth that the man in front of her was silent for a moment, but only a moment.

  ‘What’s the matter, girl? Put out because you weren’t invited too? Well, I’ve nothing against three in a bed, enjoyed myself like that more than once.’ It was said softly but with great emphasis. ‘Now if you’re not going to join us, you can get out, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll keep your mouth shut about this night’s business. I can make sure you never get another day’s work in your life.
’

  ‘Don’t threaten me, Sir Geoffrey.’ She stood up from her sitting position on the bed where she had been holding the half-swooning Peggy against her chest, and faced him squarely. Her voice was very level as she said, ‘I’m going to take Peggy to her room, and if I have anything to do with it the matter won’t rest here. I came here tonight with the intention of sparing your mother any concern, but now I realize that was a fruitless endeavour. She needs to know what her precious son is before you use your wealth and connections to attack any more young girls—’

  ‘How dare you.’ Sir Geoffrey Harris had never had anyone talk to him the way this little chit of a housekeeper was doing, and he couldn’t have been more astounded if she had suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail. ‘You cross me and you’ll rue the day you were born, I’m warning you.’

  She made no answer whatsoever, merely staring at him with a composure that was all the more damning for the scorn at the heart of it.

  ‘Do you hear me?’ He took a step towards her now, spittle gathering at the sides of his mouth as he ground out, ‘Do you hear me? If my mother, or my wife, hears anything of what’s happened here tonight I shall know who’s to blame.’ And he had thought she was a prim piece, reserved, knowing her place. It had excited him, the thought of gradually breaking down her resistance over the next few visits until he had her where he wanted her. He’d thought of jewellery, perhaps a nice pair of earrings to start with, to soften her up a bit. She was older than he normally went for - the last couple had been younger than Peggy - but there had been something about this one that made his loins ache. And now? He’d ruin her, if it was the last thing he did, and when she was broken, grovelling in the dust, he’d take her and use her and have her crawling at his feet.

  When she still made no reply beyond bending down and drawing the still weeping Peggy to her feet, wrapping one of the bed covers round the shaking girl as she did so, the rage that gripped him created a red mist before his eyes. As his fist came out to punch her in the face she amazed him for the umpteenth time that night by lifting her knee and hitting him a blow between the legs that felled him to the ground like a log, a shrill scream escaping his lips as he writhed and groaned at her feet, clutching himself as he felt the pain tear him apart.

  Sarah wasn’t surprised to see Lady Margaret, closely followed by Lady Harris, burst from their rooms as she led Peggy onto the landing, and to Lady Margaret’s query of ‘What’s happening, what is it?’ she said nothing beyond glancing down at the young maid who was cradled against her. But when the children emerged from their quarters she shut the door of Sir Geoffrey’s suite behind her, gesturing their way before she said, ‘I think it might be better if you went in to see Sir Geoffrey alone, ma’am.’

  ‘Sarah?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Harris.’ As Lady Margaret sent the children back to their rooms with a sharp admonition, she answered her employer’s unvoiced question with a weary shake of her head. ‘It was Sir Geoffrey you heard, and I think matters are self-explanatory, don’t you? As you can see, Peggy is very distressed.’

  ‘Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything, Lady Harris.’ The old lady’s face was imperious and her voice sharp, but Sarah refused to be intimidated, her tone equally sharp. ‘The facts speak for themselves.’

  ‘How dare you accuse my son—’

  And then Lady Harris’s voice was cut off as Lady Margaret muttered angrily, ‘Oh, open your eyes, Mother-in-law, for goodness’ sake. This is not the first time Geoffrey has behaved in such a fashion, and no doubt it will not be the last.’

  ‘Margaret.’

  ‘Yes, Margaret. Poor, plain, left-on-the-shelf Margaret.’ The other woman’s voice was cutting now, with an edge that suggested deeply held-in fury. ‘You think I don’t know how others see me, Mother-in-law? How your son saw me when he agreed to marry me?’

  Lady Margaret was talking as if she was completely unaware of Sarah and Peggy’s presence on the landing, and as a sound from inside the room came to their ears, a thud followed by the tinkle of breaking glass, Margaret’s back straightened, as though preparing to do battle. ‘You talk about rights for women, don’t you - social and political change for all the classes? How can you be so - so hypocritical ?’

  ‘Margaret.’

  As Lady Harris’s eyes flicked to Sarah and Peggy, Sir Geoffrey’s wife seemed to grow another few inches in stature, and her face was calm, composed even, as she said flatly, but with a voice heavy with meaning, ‘They know all there is to know, Mother-in-law, so stop fooling yourself. One has been molested, if not raped, by your son, and the other has fought off his advances for the last few days whilst aiming to keep matters civil. And I am tired, tired of fighting a fight I can never win.’

  ‘Margaret, you’re mistaken—’

  ‘No, I am not mistaken. Would that I was.’ There was a softness in the younger woman’s voice now that could have been pity as she looked into the face of her husband’s mother. ‘But more shocking than that, I have realized tonight that I no longer care. Times are changing, it is no longer necessary to suffer degradation and humiliation.’ She turned now and looked straight at Sarah. ‘You will see to her?’ She meant Peggy but didn’t acknowledge the young girl by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Brown.’ Lady Margaret was the noble lady again, stiff and cold, and this façade did not change as she glanced at Lady Harris. ‘If you wish to confer with your son that is your prerogative, of course; as for myself, I have no such wish. If you see him you may inform him I shall be leaving in the morning for Cheshire, and I shall take William and Constance with me. Good night, Mother-in-law.’

  She walked back along the corridor, stopping before she reached her own rooms and entering those of the children, whereupon she shut the door gently.

  ‘Do you see what you have done?’

  It was to Sarah, and not the weeping Peggy, that this remark was directed, and as Sarah opened her mouth to remonstrate, Lady Harris continued, ‘I hope you are satisfied with your night’s work?’

  ‘Me?’ It was so unfair, so ridiculously unfair, that all Sarah could do was gape at the furious little woman in front of her.

  ‘I feel I have harboured a viper in my bosom—’

  ‘Lady Harris, your son has just raped a fifteen-year-old child whom he lured to his room with sweet words and false promises.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I dare because it is true.’ Sarah took a long deep breath and prayed for composure. ‘Peggy was foolish, very foolish, to put herself in such a vulnerable position, but the blame for this atrocity rests on Sir Geoffrey’s shoulders. He raped her and then he tried to attack me when I intervened. That is the truth, Lady Harris, and it is up to you what you do with it.’

  She was aware of Lady Harris’s open mouth as she turned, with Peggy in the crook of her arm, and walked towards the back staircase, and also that her worthy employer would not appreciate the scapegoat answering back.

  It was one thing to further the cause for women’s liberation and social change on a general level, quite another when those same principles were called for in one’s own household, Sarah thought grimly. Lady Harris was a product of the old class system - a dyed-in-the-wool aristocrat, despite her connections with Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughters. And what was Peggy after all? Merely a servant, and as such, expendable. That, that was reality.

  Sarah suddenly felt an acute pang of homesickness for Sunderland in general, and Maggie, Florrie and Rebecca in particular, and the feeling persisted long after she had settled Peggy into bed after giving the girl a drink of hot milk containing a sleeping draught, and gone to her own room.

  Her mind continued to dwell in the north as she began her nightly toilet, and she admitted to herself that she never felt entirely happy about Rebecca these days, when she had time to think about her friend. Not that married life wa
s a bed of roses for anyone, of course it wasn’t. Even the Robertses, contented with each other as they had been, had had the odd hiccup in their relationship, when she had sensed things were strained. But it was more than that with Rebecca . . .

  After washing and brushing her teeth, Sarah slipped into her long linen nightdress and climbed into bed, but her troubled mind was too active for sleep, Peggy and Rebecca both swirling round and round in her head.

  Rebecca had changed in the last few months since Willie’s mam had died, Sarah acknowledged now, however much her friend tried to pretend otherwise. There was a nervousness about her, something elusive Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on, but which was there nevertheless. And it had begun before the other girl’s pregnancy, so it wasn’t that.

  Oh . . . Sarah turned over in the bed, thumping the top pillow, which seemed to have developed rocks in it, and twisting and turning as she tried to get comfortable. Life could be a complicated affair at times.