by Dilly Court
Grey raised his hand as if he were about to pat her on the shoulder, but let it fall again. ‘I’m truly sorry, miss. He was a good man.’
‘He was indeed.’ Mrs Arbuthnot walked into the room, looking round at their crestfallen faces with an attempt at a smile. ‘I’m trying to convince myself that he’s gone to a better place. My poor dear James was not a man to enjoy being an invalid, and he’s never been the same since that terrible fire.’
Grey held out a chair. ‘Won’t you sit down, ma’am?’
She regarded him with a dazed expression in her red-rimmed eyes. ‘I’m sorry, young man. I seem to remember your face but I can’t recall when we last met or in what circumstances.’
‘I came to see you after Sarah went missing, Mrs Arbuthnot. I was the fellow who abducted her and I confessed my part in the sorry business.’ Grey helped her to take a seat. ‘You were very kind and understanding, but that only made it worse. I knew I’d done a wicked deed, and I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since.’
Sarah stepped forward. ‘You mustn’t blame him, ma’am. Grey was kind to me from the start. He took me to his aunt and she looked after me.’ She gulped back fresh tears. ‘Miss Elsie was a good woman, no matter what anyone says about her. She died yesterday and now we’ve lost the master too. It makes me very sad.’
Mrs Arbuthnot took out her hanky and mopped her streaming eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Sarah dear. We must all try to be brave, but I can’t quite believe that James has gone. We’ve been together for twenty-three years, and I don’t know how I’ll manage without him.’
Pearl moved closer to her and laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. ‘We’re all here to support you, Sophia.’ She turned to Nettie. ‘Go downstairs and see what’s happening in the kitchen. A cup of tea is what’s needed here.’
‘Or a tot of brandy,’ Nettie muttered, scowling.
Sarah eyed her anxiously. She was quick to recognise the ominous pout and the rebellious look in Nettie’s eyes, and it was clear that the almost famous actress thought it beneath her to run errands. ‘I’ll go, Miss Parfitt,’ she said hastily. She was about to leave the room when Dorcas entered carrying a tray laden with tea and cake, which she set carefully on the mahogany dining table. She picked up the teapot and poured the beverage into dainty bone-china cups and added a splash of milk.
‘Have you done as I asked?’ Mrs Arbuthnot said wearily.
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ve sent Betty to fetch Mrs Puckle, the laying-out nurse. She’ll come directly providing she isn’t attending a confinement.’
‘I don’t want her to touch him if she’s in liquor, Dorcas.’
‘Certainly not, ma’am. I’ll make sure she’s stone cold sober before she does her business.’ Dorcas beckoned to Sarah. ‘Make yourself useful, my girl. Pass the tea and cake round.’
Only too pleased to keep her hands occupied, Sarah did as she was told, and she had to smile at the sight of Grey standing stiffly to attention as he attempted to balance a fragile cup and saucer in one large hand and a plate of seed cake in the other. She motioned to the empty chair beside Miss Parfitt. ‘I’d sit down if I were you,’ she whispered.
He glanced at Pearl who smiled up at him. ‘Please take a seat, Mr Grey.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ He put the plate in Sarah’s outstretched hand. ‘You have it, Sarah. I’m not hungry.’
She passed it to Nettie who had already demolished hers and was looking round for a second helping. ‘Ta, ducky. I haven’t lost my appetite.’ She shot an apologetic glance in Mrs Arbuthnot’s direction. ‘Begging your pardon, missis, but I ain’t had nothing to eat since last evening.’
Mrs Arbuthnot managed a weak smile. ‘That’s all right, Nettie. We must try to carry on as normal, even if it is going to be extremely difficult.’
Sarah longed to give her a hug, but she did not dare overstep the bounds of convention. Servants must always keep their place, even at moments like this. ‘Would you like some more tea, ma’am?’
‘No, thank you, Sarah.’ Mrs Arbuthnot glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Is that the time?’
Dorcas took the empty cup from her. ‘No, ma’am. I stopped all the clocks. Mrs Burgess said I should.’
‘Quite so. I feel that my life has stopped too.’
Pearl and Dorcas exchanged anxious glances. ‘Perhaps you ought to rest, Sophia?’ Pearl said softly.
‘Let me help you, ma’am.’ Dorcas was about to help her mistress to her feet when the doorbell rang and its sound echoed through the silent house. She bobbed a curtsey. ‘I’ll go and see who it is, ma’am. It might be Mrs Puckle.’
Grey cleared his throat. ‘We should be moving on, Mrs Arbuthnot,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I hate to bother you at a time like this, but I had hoped that Sarah might remain here until I’ve found more suitable lodgings.’
She clutched her hand to her forehead. ‘My poor mind has gone quite blank, and I can’t seem to think about the future, but Sarah may stay if she wants to.’
Pearl turned to him with a sympathetic smile. ‘Where are you residing at the moment, Mr Grey?’
‘I have a room in Wych Street, but it’s not a safe place for a young girl.’
‘I’m quite all right there,’ Sarah said stoutly.
‘And I’ve got lodgings nearby,’ Nettie added through a mouthful of cake. ‘If it’s good enough for me and the girls, then I don’t see why it’s not right for Sarah. She’s not a child.’
‘Is there something you’re not telling us, Mr Grey?’ Pearl’s cheeks paled and her voice was barely a whisper.
‘I’m afraid that Trigg is still a threat, ma’am. I wouldn’t mention this in such circumstances but I know he bears a grudge against this house and Sarah in particular. He’s already threatened her with violence.’
Mrs Arbuthnot was suddenly alert. ‘Are you still having dealings with that villain, Mr Grey?’
‘I’m sorry to say that I did some business with him recently which I sincerely regret, and I have to go away for a while. I don’t want to leave Sarah on her own in my lodgings.’
‘I see, and this is made even more difficult because your aunt, Miss Fitch, is no longer with us.’
‘Exactly so, ma’am.’
A slow smile creased Mrs Arbuthnot’s face. ‘Then it is very simple, Mr Grey. Sarah must come here and live with us.’ She turned to her, holding out her hand. ‘Would you like that, my dear? I’m sure that Dorcas could find work for you. Taking care of commercial gentlemen is quite demanding, and no matter what the circumstances we have to pay the bills.’
Sarah grasped her hand. ‘I would like that, ma’am. But I would also like to go back to the village to let my friends see that I am safe and well.’ She sent a pleading glance to Pearl. ‘I was taking classes in the school while the schoolmaster was absent after a riding accident. I want to be a teacher like you, miss.’
‘I’m sure that’s very laudable,’ Pearl said seriously. ‘But you’re still very young, my dear. You have plenty of time to study, and if Mrs Arbuthnot is agreeable you can come and help me in class as well as doing your work in the house.’
‘It all sounds a bit dull to me,’ Nettie whispered. ‘You could share with me and the girls. I’m sure we could find you a space to sleep, even if it’s on the floor. Maybe you could get work in the theatre. The boss is always looking for cleaning women who don’t steal or fall down blind drunk.’
Grey rose to his feet. ‘I’m afraid I must leave now, Mrs Arbuthnot. I have to make the arrangements for Elsie’s funeral.’
‘Of course. I understand, Mr Grey.’ Mrs Arbuthnot rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet and held out her hand. ‘Sarah can remain here with us for as long as she likes.’
‘You’re very kind, ma’am.’ Grey glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Pearl. ‘And thanks to you too, Miss Parfitt. I know that Sarah is in good hands.’
She dropped her gaze and a faint blush stained her cheeks. ‘Not at all, Mr Grey. It’s a pleasure
to have her back with us.’
Sarah stared from one to the other. Everyone was making arrangements for her as if she were still a child. ‘Grey.’ She ran after him as he hurried from the room. ‘Don’t I get to choose what happens to me?’
‘Don’t make a scene, kid. Can’t you see that they’re upset enough?’
‘And I am too. Mr Arbuthnot was like a father to me, but I’ve been away from here for a long time. I’ve led a different life and I don’t belong here any more. I want to go home.’
‘You can’t go back to the village, Sarah. Where would you live? And how would you support yourself?’
‘I could stay with Davey and the children. They need me.’
‘That wouldn’t do. Davey Hawkes is a man now, not a boy. It wouldn’t be right for you to live with him in that tiny cottage.’
She recoiled as if he had slapped her face. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘It’s only what everyone in the village would think, and you wouldn’t be able to work at the school.’
‘But that’s silly.’
‘Is it?’ He cupped her cheek in his hand, shaking his head. ‘Think about it, Sarah. Grow up and see the world for what it is.’ He snatched his hat off the hall table where he had left it and rammed it on his head. ‘I’ll sort out the funeral arrangements and let you know when it will be. Ladies do not usually attend an interment, but if you really want to say goodbye to Elsie I’m willing to take you.’
‘Yes, please,’ Sarah said, struggling with the overwhelming desire to sob on his shoulder. ‘I want to be there.’
‘All right, but you must stay here in the meantime, and for heaven’s sake keep an eye out for Trigg. He’s bound to hear that his old enemy has died, but I don’t think he’ll let matters rest there.’
‘I know, but I’m not scared of him when I’m with you. Please take me with you.’ She would have followed him into the street but Nettie had come up behind her and she grabbed her round the waist.
‘Let him go, Sarah.’
‘He lives in a pigsty when he’s on his own. He needs someone to look after him.’
‘That’s his choice, ducky. He’s a grown man and a good-looker too. I reckon he could have any woman he pleased, if he put his mind to it.’
‘I don’t think of him in that way.’
‘Come off it, Sarah Scrase. You’re a female, ain’t you?’ Nettie closed the door and leaned against it, grinning widely. ‘I bet you fancy him just as much as I do.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Liar. You’re kidding yourself, my girl. But it doesn’t make much difference in my opinion, because your Tobias has only got eyes for a certain Miss Perfect, and who’s to blame him?’
‘Do you think so?’
Nettie tapped the side of her nose. ‘I know so. I been around much more than you, my little country mouse. I’ve had a few admirers and I seen the way they look at a girl when they’re smitten. Tobias will be back before you know it, even if he only comes on the off chance of seeing our dear Pearl.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me, Nettie. Everything was going along so well, apart from Mr Wills giving me funny looks and dropping hints, but now everything’s changed. I don’t know what to do for the best.’
‘It’s not as if you’ve got a lot of choice. You can come with me and hope the girls don’t scratch your eyes out for being prettier than them, or you can stay here and help Mrs Arbuthnot keep a roof over her head. It’s up to you.’ She grabbed her bonnet. ‘As for me, I’m going to share a cab back to Wych Street with your man. Never let it be said that Nettie Bean let an opportunity slip through her fingers.’ She wrenched the front door open and ran outside, slamming it behind her.
Sarah had little choice other than to remain in Wellclose Square at least until Elsie’s funeral, but it was a house in deep mourning. All the clocks had been stopped at the time of Mr Arbuthnot’s passing; the curtains were drawn and the mirrors covered with black cloth.
Franz Beckman had paid them a visit the moment he heard the news of his former employer’s demise and was ready to help in any way he could, which Dorcas said was a gift from God as she could not shift furniture and it was muscle they needed now and not sympathy. At Mrs Arbuthnot’s request Franz and a couple of his fellow sugar bakers had carried the coffin downstairs and placed it on a bier in the parlour. A constant stream of people came to pay their last respects and well-wishers left little notes of sympathy for the bereaved widow. Sarah placed them on a salver in the entrance hall, but Mrs Arbuthnot was too upset to look at them and spent much of her time in her darkened room.
On her first night back in Wellclose Square Sarah was given her old bed but she now shared the room with Dorcas. The commercial travellers occupied all the other bedrooms and that evening they took their supper in the dining room, eating their meal in respectful silence. Sarah helped to serve them and to clear the table when they had finished, but everything seemed strange and she was missing Elsie more than she had thought possible. Her thoughts kept returning to the village and she wondered how Davey and the children were getting on without her. She doubted whether Mary would be able to cope with the twins without her help. Lemuel and Jonah were nine-year-olds with minds of their own and were quite a handful. Sarah went to sleep that night listening to Dorcas snoring and thinking about the little family she had left behind.
Next morning she helped serve breakfast and one of the older gentlemen gave her a threepenny bit as a tip when he left, saying that he would look forward to staying in Wellclose Square on his next trip to London. Some of the commercial travellers would be returning that night, but Dorcas said that most of them would be moving on to other towns and cities. It seemed a callous disregard for Mrs Arbuthnot’s feelings to take strangers into the house with the funeral only a couple of days away, but when Sarah mentioned her misgivings to Dorcas her immediate reaction was to shrug her thin shoulders. ‘The money from the paying guests will keep a roof over our heads, Sarah. We’ve got to be practical,’ she said firmly.
Below stairs they tried to maintain their normal routine but a pall of sadness hung over the house. Pearl came every day after school, sometimes accompanied by Franz, or he would appear soon after she arrived, and Sarah realised that this was no coincidence. Cook confirmed her suspicions that the sugar baker was sweet on Miss Parfitt, even though she gave him little encouragement. According to Mrs Burgess it was Dorcas who had a fondness for Franz and she had recently given poor Wally his marching orders. Cook was openly critical of the way in which Dorcas had treated her faithful swain, but Dorcas was unrepentant.
‘One day Franz will open his eyes and see that Miss Perfect don’t fancy him,’ she said in answer to Cook’s criticism. ‘He’s the man for me and I don’t care who knows it.’
‘Well he’s not interested in you, my girl.’ Cook folded her lips into a tight line, which was a sure indication that she disapproved of such talk.
Sarah kept out of the argument, not wanting to take sides. She did not know whom to pity the most in this tangle of hearts, but she would not allow anyone to criticise Miss Parfitt who did not go out of her way to attract the attentions of the lovelorn master sugar baker other than by being her gentle, sweet-natured self. If there was anyone whom Sarah would like to emulate it was Pearl, but she knew she would never be as clever or as beautiful as her idol.
In the days that followed Mrs Arbuthnot insisted on sleeping in the four-poster that she and her late husband had occupied, even though Dorcas suggested that they might rent the room to paying guests. Sophia Arbuthnot replied tearfully that she could not bear to have strangers occupying the bed where her husband had breathed his last, and she refused to have the sheets changed declaring that the scent of him lingered and she would not have it washed away.
On the morning of the funeral Dorcas and Cook were becoming even more concerned for Mrs Arbuthnot’s state of mind. ‘Some widows go off their heads with grief,’ Dorca
s said when they were enjoying a cup of tea in the kitchen after the lodgers had finished breakfast and left for work.
‘Some have been known to turn their faces to the wall and die of a broken heart,’ Cook added gloomily.
Betty covered her face with her apron and started to wail.
‘Stop that, you silly girl,’ Cook said crossly. ‘Do you want me to take the wooden spoon to you, Betty?’
Sarah had been sitting quietly at the table but she leapt to her feet and went over to console Betty. ‘Don’t shout at her,’ she cried angrily. ‘She’s upset.’
‘So are we all.’ Dorcas rose to her feet. ‘I’m going upstairs to see if the mistress is ready. She insists on going to the funeral even though the doctor has advised her against it.’ She cast a deprecating glance at Betty as she mounted the stairs. ‘Stop her making that noise, Sarah. We don’t want the mistress to hear.’
Sarah put her arms around Betty and rocked her like a baby.
Cook poured more tea into her cup. ‘I dunno,’ she muttered. ‘A three-pound funeral is not the way to send off an important man like the master. I remember funerals where there were four or even six black horses pulling the hearse, which was glass-sided to show off the oak coffin draped in crimson velvet. There’d be attendants with silk hat bands, dozens of followers and at least two mutes. Those were the days.’
Sarah wiped Betty’s eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘Would you like a biscuit and a glass of warm milk?’
Betty nodded wordlessly as she tried to control her sobs.
Cook looked up at the board above the door as one of the bells jangled on its spring. ‘Oh Lord. It’s the front door. Dorcas can’t answer it; you’d best go, Sarah. It’s probably Miss Pearl, or it might even be the undertaker with the hearse and mourning coach, and none of us quite ready, for I won’t let the mistress go on her own.’
Sarah gave Betty a biscuit, and satisfied that this had had the desired effect she hurried up the narrow staircase to the entrance hall. She straightened her mobcap and went to open the door, but it was not the undertaker who stood on the front step. Her hand flew to her mouth in dismay.