She pulled at the ribbon in her hair and ripped at the dress. ‘Get it off me, get it all off me right now,’ she insisted.
‘But Daisy, whatever’s the matter?’ Lizzie cried.
‘Just get it off me, do you hear?’ Tears of shame and tiredness ran down Daisy’s face. ‘I want my orphanage dress back. And I’ll put my hair in plaits again.’
‘Steady on there, let me get the buttons seeing you’re so determined,’ Lizzie said. ‘Though you’re acting like a dog with rabies.’
Daisy sobbed quietly while Lizzie quickly undid the buttons. When she was finished Daisy shook it off, picked up her old dress and pulled it roughly over her head.
She looked at herself again as she hurriedly pulled her hair into plaits. That’s better, she thought, and sniffed loudly. I have to remember who I am and where I come from.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Goodness, I hope Mrs Bailey doesn’t think I got this wrong, too,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, Lizzie, really I am, but I told you, I’m not a real orphan. The Baileys’ money can’t change that.’
‘Oh, you silly chicken,’ Lizzie said, and took Daisy by the shoulders. ‘I know you miss your family, and it’s hard starting over, but maybe if you give the Baileys a bit of a chance everything will work out?’
Daisy stared at the floor and said nothing.
Lizzie sighed and dropped her arms. ‘Have it your way, then,’ she said.
They might be the nicest people in the world, Daisy thought, and this might be like a house in a fairytale, but they’re still not my family.
LIZZIE led Daisy back down the timber staircase and into a small sitting room, where Mrs Bailey sat in a big armchair by the window, sipping a cup of tea. She looked up in surprise as the pair entered.
‘Whatever are you wearing, Daisy?’ she said. ‘Lizzie, could you not find any clothes?’ She furrowed her brow in confusion.
‘I’m terribly sorry, ma’am,’ Lizzie said, bobbing her head. ‘Miss Daisy seems rather fond of her own dress.’
Daisy crossed her arms and fixed Mrs Bailey with a long, determined stare.
Mrs Bailey put her teacup on a small table and reached for a silver teapot. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Daisy?’ she asked calmly.
Daisy dropped her arms. Is that it? she wondered. Isn’t she going to shout at me, or force me to wear those fancy clothes?
Mrs Bailey glanced at her. ‘Sit over there, Daisy. I’ve poured you a cup, help yourself to the sugar and a cake.’
Daisy sat in an armchair opposite Mrs Bailey.
‘Thank you, Lizzie, that will be all,’ Mrs Bailey said. The maid gave her an awkward curtsey and left.
Daisy stared at the steaming cup of tea. Maybe I should refuse to eat or drink until they take me back, too, she thought. That might speed things along. She glanced at the dainty cakes on a silver tray and her mouth watered. I’ll just eat a little bit, she decided, and reached for a small cupcake with pink icing.
Mrs Bailey sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘I’d like to tell you about our daughter, Daisy,’ she said.
Daisy blinked in surprise. Daughter? If they already have a daughter why do they want me? she wondered. Then she thought about the dress Lizzie had given her. Of course, why didn’t I realise? That was one of their daughter’s dresses.
‘Daisy?’ Mrs Bailey was looking at her in concern.
‘Sorry,’ Daisy answered, without thinking. ‘I was miles away. I haven’t been getting much sleep at the orphanage and . . .’ She quickly squeezed her lips together. Bother! Me and my chatty mouth. Daisy shook her head in annoyance. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
Mrs Bailey looked at her quizzically, but didn’t question her. ‘Our daughter’s name is Charlotte-Rose Anne Bailey. But when she was born she was such a titch of a thing, and Charlotte-Rose seemed such a big name that we all just called her Annie,’ Mrs Bailey said. She picked up a slice of tea cake and nibbled at it. ‘She is our only child and as you can imagine she is very precious to us.’
Daisy stared into her tea. I hope Dad still feels that way about Flora and me, she thought. But then what do they want me for? Have they brought me here just to be some kind of playmate when I should be with my real family? Daisy felt her cheeks start to get hot.
‘Six months ago, Annie got a terrible bout of pneumonia and we thought we might lose her,’ Mrs Bailey said. ‘We hired a nurse to look after her, and thankfully she proved all the doctors wrong and fought until she was out of danger.’ She reached for the teapot and topped up Daisy’s cup. ‘But she never seemed to get fully well again, and no one knows why. James has consulted every doctor in the country, and even some from overseas, but none of them knows why she hasn’t recovered.’ She stopped talking for a few minutes to stare out the window.
How awful, Daisy thought. I’d hate to be sick all the time.
Mrs Bailey turned back. ‘So my poor lamb spends her days cooped up in her bedroom, too sick to play or go to school. It’s terribly dull for her. We’ve had to keep the nurse on indefinitely.’
Daisy nodded in spite of herself.
‘So James . . . er . . . Mr Bailey and I thought that if we could find a companion for Annie, even a sister, then we could improve two girls’ lives. We even thought you could go to Annie’s old school after Christmas.’
Daisy took a gulp of tea and tried to make sense of everything.
So they’re not just awful people who want to ruin my life. They actually want to help someone, and help their daughter, too. Daisy sighed loudly.
‘What is it, dear?’ Mrs Bailey asked.
Daisy couldn’t look at her. She stared at the floor. I want to hate them, I really do, she thought. But I can’t. There must be another way I can make them send me away instead of behaving like a little brat. She chewed the end of her plait as she tried to come up with a plan.
If I run away and go to the orphanage they’ll just send me back here, so that’s no good. She rubbed her hand across her forehead.
‘More tea, dear?’ Mrs Bailey asked.
Daisy shook her head, and struggled to come up with a different idea. Maybe I could go back to Aunty May’s . . . But no, she’d never let me stay. She sighed again.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Daisy?’ Mrs Bailey patted Daisy’s hand kindly.
Daisy had to duck her head to hide the sudden tears that pricked her eyes. Mrs Bailey’s gentleness reminded her of Mum. Daisy hardly ever let herself remember her mother. It was too sad.
Daisy took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around the beautiful room with its pretty ornaments and vases of flowers. Life here would be so easy . . . But then she clamped her lips together in determination. Even though I feel sorry for them, Daisy thought, I can’t stay. That would be like betraying Dad and Flora. I’ll just have to get sent away. But how?
She looked down at the cup of tea, then back up at Mrs Bailey’s smiling face. Could I . . . ? she wondered. Dare I really?
Then, slowly and deliberately, she picked up her cup and tipped tea all over the floral rug.
Mrs Bailey’s smile was quickly replaced by a look of shock. She leapt up and pulled a cord in the corner of the room.
Lizzie ran in. ‘When that bell rings I should come in, shouldn’t I?’ she said.
‘Yes, Lizzie, that’s right,’ Mrs Bailey said.
Lizzie clapped her hands with glee.
‘We’ve had an accident, Lizzie. Would you get one of the kitchen girls to clean it up, please?’ Mrs Bailey said, and indicated the tea stain soaking into the carpet.
Daisy’s face felt hot and flushed with a mixture of excitement and shame. This was how she’d do it. She couldn’t just be silent – she had to be bad. Really bad. Then they’d send her away for sure.
‘Daisy, I think you need an early night. I know you’re very tired and this has been a very unsettling day.’ Mrs Bailey rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. ‘I hope we can start afresh tomorrow.’
&
nbsp; Daisy shrugged away from Mrs Bailey’s touch and scowled at her. Yes, this was a good plan. Poor Mrs Bailey, she thought. You won’t be wanting a wicked girl like me.
Daisy followed Lizzie down a narrow timber hallway on the top floor of the house.
‘Welcome to your little bit of paradise,’ Lizzie said as she threw open a door.
Late-afternoon sun streamed in through the window, bathing the room in golden light. A four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room. It was beautifully made up with large pillows, a floral cover and several smaller lace cushions. A dressing table with an ornate mirror was on one side of the room beside a matching timber wardrobe.
Daisy stared in wonder at the magnificent room and took a step back, bumping into Lizzie.
‘Blimey, watch yourself,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m usually the one who goes about banging into people.’ She giggled.
‘Oh, so sorry,’ Daisy said, ‘but are you sure this is the right room? This can’t be for me.’
‘Isn’t it just like a fairytale?’ Lizzie sighed. ‘See, I told you you was the luckiest girl ever.’ She moved to close the curtains.
‘Oh please, leave them open,’ Daisy said. ‘We always had them closed in the orphanage and I do love seeing the sun.’ She looked out to the grounds below. The room faced onto the back garden, where a large fountain sent cascades of sparkling water shooting into the air. Wooden benches sat on either side of the fountain, surrounded by colourful flowerbeds.
Oh my, she thought, what a perfect spot to sit and write stories.
She slowly turned in a circle, trying to take everything in. ‘You mean this whole big bed is just for me?’ she said in wonder, and patted the soft cover.
‘Isn’t it a treat?’ Lizzie answered. ‘Mrs Bailey got these toys, too, in case you liked that sort of thing.’ She pointed to some dolls in the corner of the room. ‘We wasn’t sure how old you would be,’ she said. ‘But there are books on that shelf if you know how to read.’
Daisy hugged herself. It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen, she thought. But then the guilty feelings washed over her again. I mustn’t get drawn into it all. I’ll sleep here tonight, but I’m still going to behave badly.
‘So, Princess Daisy, will madam need anything else before she retires?’ Lizzie asked in a teasing voice.
‘No, thank you,’ Daisy said. ‘Just some sleep. It’s been a very strange and confusing day.’
Lizzie nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
Daisy perched on the edge of the bed. The quilt was soft and inviting. She kicked off her boots and pulled herself further up so that her head was resting on one of the large pillows. ‘It’s like lying on a cloud,’ she murmured to herself, and within minutes she was fast asleep.
‘DAISY, Daisy, wake up.’
‘Go away, Edith, it’s too early,’ Daisy muttered, and pushed her head under the pillow.
‘It’s not Edith, you gooseberry, it’s Lizzie.’
Daisy shot up straight. ‘Oh my goodness. It’s not a dream.’ She looked around the pretty room and at Lizzie, who stood at the end of her bed looking bemused. Morning sunlight slanted in through the window, and Daisy could see a bright blue sky outside.
‘You’ve slept for ever such a long time, we thought you might never wake up,’ Lizzie said with a laugh. ‘I brought up dinner last night, but you were snoring your head off.’
Daisy yawned loudly and stretched. ‘I slept so well.’
‘Good, and now it’s time to meet Annie,’ Lizzie said, ‘so quick sticks, get dressed.’ She clapped her hands. ‘I’ve brought breakfast, but you won’t get such special treatment every day.’ She pointed to a tray laden with fruit, toast and tea.
Ooh, I’m famished, Daisy thought, gobbling the toast with gusto.
‘Now then, can we please burn that ugly orphanage dress and put you in something proper?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Nope, I’ll be wearing it today – and every day, thank you very much,’ Daisy answered, her mouth full of strawberries.
‘You’re an odd one,’ Lizzie sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘But suit yourself. Thank goodness Mrs Bailey is already gone off to her charity group and Mr Bailey left for work hours ago, so at least they won’t see you looking a fright.’ She grabbed a brush off the dresser. ‘Let’s at least sort out that hair and wash your face.’
Ten minutes later Lizzie was leading Daisy back along the maze of corridors on the first storey of the grand house.
Wouldn’t it be fun to explore this house on my own, Daisy thought, peering into rooms as they passed and wondering what was behind the closed doors. It’s a bit like a haunted house in a mystery story.
Lizzie looked back at her. ‘Isn’t it grand?’ she whispered, seeing the excitement on Daisy’s face. ‘I still get lost sometimes.’ She stopped in front of the last door in a long corridor and knocked softly. ‘She might be asleep,’ she whispered.
‘Come in,’ said a small voice.
Lizzie opened the door slowly and motioned for Daisy to follow her.
Daisy felt jumpy and nervous. Maybe this sick girl locked away in her room would look like a troll, or a monster. Maybe she’d have awful sores and scabs.
Oh Daisy, you prima donna, calm down, she scolded herself, and took a deep breath before stepping inside.
The room was dark and cool with heavy drapes closed against the sunshine. It took Daisy’s eyes a few minutes to adjust, but she could soon make out a dolls house in one corner of the room, shelves bulging with picture books, a toy pram crowded with fancy dolls beside a wooden rocking horse, and lying in a four-poster bed with a lace canopy above it was a little girl with the palest skin Daisy had ever seen. The girl’s fine golden hair was fanned out behind her on a white lace pillow.
‘Hello,’ the girl said, and pulled herself up in the bed. ‘I’m Annie. Do you like dragons?’
‘Hello, Annie,’ Daisy answered. She noticed that Annie’s eyes were the same bright blue as her mother’s. ‘I’m Daisy. I’m very fond of dragons, actually.’
‘Oh goodie,’ Annie replied with a happy sigh as she lay back on her pillow. ‘I rarely meet anyone else who likes them, you know. Most of the adults tell me I mustn’t believe in such silly nonsense, but I can’t see anything silly about a fire-breathing dragon, can you?’
Daisy couldn’t help but laugh as she found a small rocking chair to sit on.
‘Right then,’ Lizzie said, ‘I’ll pop back in a little bit with some scrummy treats. What do you think about that, Annie?’
‘I shall try very hard to be excited, dear Lizzie, but you know everything just tastes bitter and awful to me these days.’
‘You poor chicken. I’ll see if I can find something to cheer you up,’ Lizzie said as she left the room.
‘Sometimes I find I worry about the dragons very much,’ Annie continued. She fixed Daisy with an intense look. ‘I mean if nobody even believes in them anymore, do you think they’ll disappear altogether? We cannot allow that, can we, Daisy?’
‘Indeed not,’ Daisy smiled. Annie had such a sweet, proper way of talking. And she reminds me a bit of Flora, she thought. Tears stung Daisy’s eyes. Oh my dear Flora, when will I ever see you again?
‘Are you quite all right, Daisy,’ Annie asked, her pale forehead lined with worry.
‘I’m sorry,’ Daisy said and hastily wiped her tears away. ‘It’s just that I have a little sister who I haven’t seen for a long time, and you remind me of her.’
‘A little sister is a very good thing to have,’ Annie said wisely, and folded her hands on top of her quilt. ‘Does your sister believe in dragons too, Daisy?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes, of course,’ Daisy said.
‘Well then, we must make it our business to bring this little sister of yours here to tea so that we may discuss dragons all together.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t do that,’ Daisy said, in a small voice. ‘She’ll soon be sent to boarding school in Sydney and I won’t know how to con
tact her.’ Daisy felt her heart flutter. She’d lost track of the days – how long until Flora left? She hadn’t gone already, had she?
‘Oh dear, that is no good at all,’ Annie said, and tutted softly to herself. ‘But your parents will know where she is, of course.’
‘It’s just our dad now,’ Daisy said, and explained how they had moved from the farm to the city, how Dad had promised to write every week and send money, and how Aunty May had thrown Daisy out onto the streets.
‘And that’s how I ended up at the orphanage,’ Daisy said. ‘And then I came here.’
‘My goodness, that is a jolly good story,’ Annie said, and clapped her hands with pleasure. ‘Though I am terribly sorry for you, Daisy,’ she added. ‘Will you visit me every day and tell me a story? I feel ever so cheered up by your company.’ She gave Daisy a small smile that made Daisy’s heart melt a little. ‘Mainly only adults visit me these days, and most of them have forgotten how to use their imaginations. I do find that vexing, don’t you?’
Daisy laughed at Annie’s serious little voice. ‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed.
Annie turned her head to take a good look at her visitor. ‘But Daisy, why are you wearing such a nasty, dirty dress?’ she asked.
Daisy blushed. ‘This is my orphanage dress,’ she said.
‘But Mummy and Daddy said they would look after you just like a real daughter.’ Annie pulled herself up onto her elbows. ‘That’s terribly mean of them to make you wear that smelly old dress,’ she said, her eyes growing round with indignation.
‘Oh no,’ Daisy cried. ‘No, Annie, your parents have been very sweet.’ Daisy paused, wondering how to explain her predicament. ‘I just . . . well . . . you see . . .’
Daisy in the Mansion Page 2