Polly's Story

by Jennie Walters

  A small mirror hung on the wall above the washstand, so I went over to brush my hair and pin it back up, with one of the caps perched on top. Mother always says my hair is my best feature: there is plenty of it, at least! But it is an unremarkable brown, as are my eyes. My complexion only has to see the sun to turn brown too, and I have always been tall for my age, with long arms and legs and a strong back - just as well, when it comes to making beds. And that is all I can think of to say about my appearance; except that our neighbour, Mrs Grimshaw, once told my mother that her ugly duckling looked like turning into a swan. I didn’t know quite what to make of this but, as Mother said, Mrs Grimshaw is so old and short-sighted there was no point in taking offence.

  I looked at the three other beds and wondered about the girls who would be sharing with me that night. Would I find a friend among them? Despite my resolution to make the best of things, I couldn’t help feeling that my new life had not got off to a very promising start.

  Two

  Always move quietly about the house, and do not let your voice be heard by the family unless necessary. Never sing or whistle at your work where the family would be likely to hear you. Do not call out from one room to another; and if you are a housemaid, be careful not only to do your work quietly, but to keep out of sight as much as possible.

  From Rules for the Manners of Servants in Good Families, 1901

  I managed not to lose myself on the way back down to the servants’ hall and was standing next to Mary by the time the gong sounded for breakfast, ready to hand around cups of tea and plates of cold ham which the under butler was waiting to carve. What a great number of people came rushing in to take their places at the long scrubbed table! Thank goodness the upper servants were being served a separate meal in Mrs Henderson’s room; it was enough for me to deal with the other maids and the footmen, so tall and grand in their tailcoats. I caught sight of William but did not feel able to say hello to him, as all the menservants were sitting on the opposite side of the table to the housemaids and there didn’t seem to be much conversation between the two parties. When I handed him his tea, however, he winked at me in a very encouraging way, which raised my spirits no end.

  At last everyone had been served and I could take my place at the end of the table, next to a pretty girl with dark curly hair and grey eyes. ‘So you are the new housemaid,’ she said, looking me up and down. ‘How do you do? My name is Jemima Newgate, and Mary has paired me with you, for my sins. We shall be cleaning the servants’ quarters together.’ She gave me another cool glance. ‘I hope you are prepared to do some work today, despite those fancy clothes.’

  ‘I am quite used to hard work,’ I said, stumbling over the words. ‘My name is Polly, or Olive. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure we shall get along.’

  ‘Are you, Polly or Olive?’ she said, and laughed in a way which made me feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Well, that is good to know. You’d better be a quick learner, is all I can say, or we really shall be in trouble.’

  ‘Oh, Jemima! Don’t be so contrary.’ A fair-haired girl had just hurried into the servants’ hall and taken the seat on her other side. She leaned forward to smile at me. ‘You are quite right - we are all going to get along together very well indeed. My name is Iris. You will not have so much to do with me, because I am the still-room maid, but we shall be sharing a room together. You, Jemima and myself, and Becky,’ and she pointed out another girl sitting further down the table. ‘You cannot possibly snore as loudly as the poor creature who had your bed before, so we are all very pleased to see you.’

  I smiled back and went to fetch her a cup of tea; at least there was one person who seemed to know how I felt and wanted to put me at my ease. Sadly breakfast with Iris was over all too soon and then it was time for my next ordeal: prayers for the whole household in the chapel. The upper servants reappeared and we lined up in order of importance behind the butler (Mr Goddard was his name, I discovered later), who led the way along the passage and through the green baize door into the front of the house. This was the first time I had been beyond the servants’ quarters, and I could hardly believe my eyes. It was like stepping through into another world. On one side were bare wooden floorboards and rough plaster walls; on the other, acres of smooth marble and thick rugs under foot. There were marble statues staring down at me from alcoves all along the hall, and a painted ceiling soared high up above my head. I had thought that the vicarage was very grand when I started working there, but you could have fitted the whole of that house into one little corner of the Hall without falling over it.

  The chapel made me feel even more of a timid country mouse. It was such a solemn, quiet place, with the light falling softly through tall stained-glass windows and pictures of suffering saints and martyrs everywhere you looked. How Miss Conway would have loved it! Not a particularly large room but twice normal height, with a gallery upstairs for the family so they could look down on the pews where we sat. I couldn’t resist taking a peek at the Vyes, whom I had not yet seen. The present Lord Vye had five children; four with his first wife (who had died after giving birth to their last daughter) and one son from his second marriage. The two older boys, Master Edward and Master Rory, were young men now and living away from home, so the only children at the Hall were the two daughters, Miss Eugenie and Miss Harriet, and their little half-brother, Master John, who was seven. I did not dare glance up at the gallery during prayers, but when I could tell from the noise of chairs being scraped back that the family were about to leave, I threw caution to the winds and took a quick peep.

  There was His Lordship, looking exactly as I expected: very grave and serious. His dark hair and sidewhiskers were streaked with grey, but he was handsome and distinguished all the same, in a black frock coat and snowy white shirt. Lady Vye was a good deal younger. You wouldn’t call her beautiful, exactly - her nose was a little too long and her eyes a little too heavy-lidded for that - but there was something in her face which made you want to gaze at it for a good long time. And the way she carried herself! As proud and regal as the Queen herself, in an elegant pearl-grey cashmere gown trimmed with lace, nipped in tight at the waist. I couldn’t help admiring her quite openly. And then, to my dismay, she happened to notice me looking, and shot me such a furious stare in return that I could have died on the spot from the shame of it.

  ‘You won’t have been in a place like this before, I should imagine,’ Jemima said with some satisfaction, as we hurried along to the housemaids’ pantry after prayers to collect our cleaning boxes. ‘And it all takes a lot of looking after, let me tell you that. Lord Vye isn’t so bad - he only cares about his gardens, his dogs and his horses - but Her Ladyship is very particular. Everything has to be just so, or she’ll put the fear of God into Mrs Henderson and then we get it in the neck. She never speaks directly to us, of course. And if she should ever pass you by, drop a curtsey with your eyes lowered. She doesn’t appreciate being looked at by the likes of us.’

  So that was the second mistake I had made, and not so much as a floor swept or a fire laid. If things did not look up, my first day at Swallowcliffe would end up being my last. I made up my mind to work as hard as ever I could, but Jemima’s eyes were on me the whole morning long, and she seemed determined to find fault. She condescended to help me make the beds, but apart from that she spent most of the time watching me critically with her arms folded. Can you imagine anything more likely to make a person feel awkward and nervous? I had started off wanting to do my best, but she did not appear interested in teaching me how things should be done. Instead she would snatch the cloth out of my hands and do the job herself, grumbling all the while, which of course made everything take twice as long. And the more she chivvied me for being clumsy, the clumsier I became.

  By the time we stopped work at one for our dinner, I felt in need of some friendly company, and was glad to stand beside Iris as we waited for the upper servants to take their places at the top of the table. What a feast was laid out for us! W
e had chicken and most of a huge turkey left over from upstairs which Mr Goddard carved, with Mrs Henderson dishing up potatoes, carrots and turnips from the kitchen garden, and bread sauce, gravy and cranberry jelly on the table. I took around the plates with Barbara the scullerymaid, faint with hunger, and then finally sat down to enjoy my own meal. Jemima had moved up to sit next to Becky, so I was more than happy to take my place next to Iris.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a quantity of food,’ I remarked to her. ‘Is there always so much to eat at mid-day? We shall be good for nothing this afternoon!’

  She did not answer, but only gave me a little shake of her head and a frown. Whatever was the matter? Could I possibly have offended her now? I was about to ask when I happened to glance up and saw to my horror that every single person down the length of that great long table was staring in my direction - including Mrs Henderson herself.

  ‘Who is talking?’ she demanded. ‘Is that you, Olive? Kindly refrain from speaking unless you are addressed by myself or Mr Goddard.’

  Oh Lord, I had gone wrong again. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I mumbled, my face burning with shame. How could I not have noticed that the lower end of the table was sitting in silence? A few seconds ago I could have polished off the whole turkey by myself; now I had suddenly lost my appetite. The food seemed to stick in my throat and I had to swallow hard to get down a single mouthful. At last Mr Goddard finished eating and laid down his knife and fork; this was a signal for everybody else to do the same. I had to leave half the meal on my plate, which seemed a terrible waste. And then the upper servants went off to take their pudding and cheese in the housekeeper’s room, leaving the rest of us to let out our breath and be sociable. Sadly for me, Iris went with them to wait at table. I was left with an empty place next to me and the feeling that I had been deserted by my one and only friend.

  ‘Well, you are a bold one,’ Jemima said to me at once, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘Chatting merrily away in front of the upper servants, and on your first day too! We shall have to watch you.’

  ‘I didn’t realize it was forbidden,’ I replied, the colour rising in my cheeks. ‘I shall know better another time.’

  William was sitting opposite us, taking all this in, and now he decided to join in the conversation. ‘And what about your first day here, Jemima?’ he asked, innocent as you please.

  She stared at him for a moment and then glanced quickly away as though he hadn’t spoken. People were beginning to smile around us. ‘Whose seat was it you took at the table?’ William asked, as if wondering aloud to himself. ‘I can’t quite remember.’

  ‘Then I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself,’ Jemima snapped - but too late.

  ‘It was Lady Vye’s maid,’ called down one of the senior footmen, amid a general ripple of amusement. ‘That French mam’zelle with the hot temper. We thought she would crack you over the head with it!’

  There was a burst of laughter at this, and now it was Jemima’s turn to blush. William winked at me. I did my best to smile back and thank him, though I knew he had landed me in yet more trouble and was worried about the consequences. Jemima would not take kindly to being shown up twice in one day.

  In the afternoon, we housemaids had some sewing to do in our sitting room. It was so nice and peaceful, working away with only the sounds of a clock ticking on the mantelpiece and thread being drawn tight to disturb the quiet. I snatched the odd anxious glance at Jemima, but she had apparently decided to ignore me. Becky did not seem particularly interested in talking to me either; I suppose because she was Jemima’s particular friend, she did no need to trouble herself on my account. Mrs Henderson was busy with Iris in the still room, and came in every now and again to check on us. I was hemming a duster, as I remember (which had probably been judged not to matter very much), and she took it to the window to look at my stitching. When the cloth was returned to me with a nod, I couldn’t have felt prouder than if Queen Victoria herself had presented me with a medal. At least there was something I could do properly!

  ‘So, what are we to call you?’ Mary asked me a little while later. ‘Is it to be Polly or Olive? We must settle on something.’

  ‘I was christened Olive, but Polly is how everyone knows me at home,’ I replied, ‘though it really doesn’t matter. I’m not particular.’

  ‘Then I shall call you Olive,’ Jemima said suddenly, biting off a thread with one snap of her sharp white teeth. ‘It is such a dreary, drab sort of name - like that of some dull brown animal. A cow, perhaps, or a carthorse. I think it suits you very well.’

  I couldn’t help staring at her in dismay. Maybe I should have laughed to show I didn’t care what she thought of me, or made some clever reply in return, but I was too surprised by her spiteful words to hide my feelings.

  ‘Jemima!’ Mary said sternly. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, Olive doesn’t mind me,’ Jemima said. ‘She knows I’m only teasing.’ And she smiled at me as sweetly as if we were sisters. I realized she was happy because she had succeeded in upsetting me, and that hurt as much as the cruel thing she had said. I went back to my sewing with a heavy heart. All the pleasure had gone out of it now, and my stitches straggled higgledy piggledy over the cloth.

  For the rest of that day, I managed as best I could with my duties. There were fires to be lit in the bedrooms so that they would be warm when it was time to dress for dinner, hot water to be carried upstairs, and beds to be turned down when the family were installed in the dining room. Jemima and I hardly spoke to each other. I could not wait for the night to come, for the moment when I might pull the blanket over my head and have some time to myself. By the time our work was finally finished, I could hardly summon up the energy to take off my clothes, and lay down fully dressed on the bed. Jemima had already settled herself in the bed next to mine and was whispering with Becky, her back turned firmly towards me. My only consolation was the fact that Mrs Henderson had found me an old print frock to wear the next day which a previous housemaid had left behind. A shilling would be deducted from my first month’s wages to pay for it - if I lasted that long, she added darkly.

  And then, settling the lumpy pillow more comfortably, my hand came across the envelope Mother had given me that morning - so many lifetimes ago. I had pushed it under the pillow to wait until later. Sitting up, I tore open the paper, and out fell a silver locket on a chain. There was a note with it.

  For my dearest Polly,

  You will always be here in my heart, no matter how far you are from home. Wear this and remember how proud I am of you, and that your father is watching over us both in heaven.

  Your loving Mother

  I knew this locket well. It was the only piece of jewellery my mother had left, everything else (including her wedding ring) having been pawned since Father died. He was a fisherman, and had been drowned in a storm at sea when I was ten. This marked the start of hard times for our family. There had been hardly enough for the five of us to live on ever since and besides, we all missed him a great deal - even my little brother, who was only a baby at the time. My father had given Mother this necklace when they were courting, and now she had passed the precious gift on to me.

  You might have thought that knowing there was someone in the world who loved me so dearly would have lifted my spirits, but the pillow was wet with tears by the time I eventually fell asleep. How could I ever make a life for myself in this strange, difficult place? I had never felt so completely alone in all my life.

  Three

  Recollect, my little general servant, that if your place is a hard one, it is also the best possible one for training you for a better … If you rise early, bustle about, and waste no spare moments, you will get through your work very well. Only do think about it. A little arrangement and thought will give you Method and Habit, two fairies that will make the work disappear before a ready pair of hands.

  From Warne’s Model Cookery, c.1890

  ‘Polly, wake up!’ For a moment I had
no idea where I was - perhaps in the bed I shared at home with my younger sister Lizzie, who must have been telling me it was time to be up and off to the vicarage to work. But when I opened my eyes, it was Iris who was shaking my shoulder and smiling down at me.

  ‘What is it?’ I said in a panic, trying to gather my thoughts. ‘Am I too late? Are they all still here?’

  It was nearly the end of my second week at the Hall, and the Vyes were entertaining guests to dinner. The gentlemen were in the billiard room, smoking and drinking brandy, while the ladies chatted over cards and tea in the drawing room. Jemima had told me to wait out of sight across the corridor, so that I could tidy up the rooms after the company had gone. It was well after midnight and, although I was sitting on a hard chair in a corner of the dining room, I had not been able to keep my eyes open a second longer.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Iris whispered. ‘Don’t worry, William told me you were here - no one else has seen you. I’ve just made hot chocolate for a couple of the ladies and he’s taken it through. They probably won’t be much longer.’ (Being the still-room maid, Iris prepared hot drinks for the house, as well as making bread and rolls, preserves, cakes and other delicious things, and waiting on the upper servants in Mrs Henderson’s room.)