James felt so sorry for her that he couldn’t control his feelings, and he said, “Would you like me to read the last ten verses to you?”
Dolly looked up. She couldn’t answer, but she nodded.
Before he began, he pulled the bell cord, and when Jenkins arrived, he ordered hot chocolate and cookies. Dolly sat across from him in one of the big, high-backed, leather armchairs. There was a fire going in the fireplace, and the wings on the chair captured the heat as it came off the flames, giving her a warm sense of comfort and wellbeing.
James read with such keen articulation that she enjoyed listening to his voice almost as much as Gamby’s. When Jenkins returned with their refreshments, he stood holding the tray and listening to James read the last verse.
“The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom’s door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.”
Dolly felt as though a piece of her being had been replaced. When she thanked James enthusiastically, he was pleased, but also a little embarrassed at her show of gratitude.
Jenkins, pleasantly surprised over the atypical behaviour of his master, smiled as he set the tray down on a beautifully carved teak tea table between the two chairs and left.
James was enjoying the repast as much as Dolly. He was so taken with the girl’s sensible manner that he told her about his favourite books when he was a young boy.
Then before she left, he said, “Dolly, you remember that I said you weren’t allowed in here by yourself?”
“Yes, sir. I remember. I know how precious your books are and I would never disobey you.”
“Well, I have changed my mind. Now that I see that you respect books as much as I do and will handle them carefully and put them back where they belong, I see no reason you can’t enjoy them too.”
“You mean I can come in here anytime I like?”
“Probably it would be best if I wasn’t using the library at the time, but otherwise, you are welcome.”
Dolly was overjoyed and thanked him before running to tell her mother.
James couldn’t understand what there was about this rather plain-looking child that he found so trustworthy, but he instinctively knew that even his most treasured books would be safe in her care.
Before long, Gladys had the household running smoothly. She had plenty of help to keep the house clean and tidy, and, if she needed more, James had promised to hire them. Except for the time James had ordered her to go riding, she was allowed free rein and she found him to be a most obliging employer. She especially appreciated not having a mistress to answer to. James took no interest in her housekeeping methods, and she was free to run the household without interference. If James had a wife, she would never have approved of the way Gladys handled her subordinates.
Having been a housemaid herself, Gladys remembered how demeaning the job could be, and she had no intentions of treating any of the girls under her care like slaves. They, in turn, were so grateful for her show of kindness that they worked hard to please her. The news soon got around that a young girl was lucky if she found a job at Four Oaks.
The few times Gladys tried to convince James to take a ride on Andrew’s velocipede, he refused. However, unbeknownst to her, he often took the machine down into a pasture to practice where no one could see him.
One day when she and Dolly were going to go for a ride on their machines, he surprised them and offered to join them. Having no idea he had ridden before, they were amazed at his adeptness, and when Gladys remarked about how well he was doing, he couldn’t resist adding a few tricky turns to show off.
From then on, whenever he visited his tenants, he used Andrew’s velocipede as often as he used his horse. He insisted on paying Gladys for it, and although she tried to refuse, she appreciated having such a generous amount of money to add to her savings.
James had tenants living in four of his cottages. Having little interest in farming, he leased the cottages and portions of his property to the occupants for a fee, plus enough of their produce to satisfy his household. There were always plenty of vegetables, milk, butter, meat, and eggs at Freda’s disposal, and she made good use of it all. She wasn’t just an excellent cook, but an open-minded one as well and never took offense when Gladys offered her some of her own recipes.
Chapter Seven
Every month, James gave Gladys six pounds to purchase goods from the tradesmen who came by weekly, and she kept it inside an envelope in one of her dresser drawers. One day, when a tradesman was due, she went to the dresser to get the money, and was shocked to find it missing. James, having just finished his breakfast, was about to leave the house when she found him and reported what had happened.
“Have you any idea who the culprit is, Gladys?” he inquired. When she said she hadn’t, he thought for a second before saying, “Then we shall have to have a search. I am afraid there is nothing else we can do.”
“Oh dear, I suppose you are right, but I have gotten to know them all so well that I find it hard to believe any of them would do such a thing.”
“I know how you feel, but we have no choice. You call your girls together, and I shall have Jenkins fetch his two footmen.”
When Freda and the girls were all assembled in the kitchen, along with the footmen, James explained the gravity of the situation and informed them they were to remain there until all the rooms were searched. Jenkins was to search the footmen’s rooms, and Gladys and Freda were told to go through the girls’ rooms.
“It’s bad business, missus. To think anybody’d steal from someone as kind as yourself. It’s right shameful,” Freda declared.
The girls only had one small dresser each and a few pegs on which to hang their dresses, so it didn’t take long to do a thorough search of each one’s belongings.
Suddenly, Freda called out, “Oh, my Lord, missus. Here it is. Lord forgive her, it’s our Molly.” She had found the money under Molly’s mattress.
“Oh, no, it can’t be!” Gladys cried. “She must have needed the money very badly to have done such a thing, Freda, but we have to report her to the master.”
When James heard about it, he insisted that they leave it in his hands.
“But she is my girl,” Gladys said.
“Yes, she is your girl, Gladys, but it was my money that she has stolen. It is no longer a domestic concern, this is a criminal offense.”
He then ordered them all back to work and told John, the first footman, to have Ruby rig his horse and buggy and bring it to the front of the house. Then he told Molly, who was crying so hard that her sobbing plea of innocence was incomprehensible, to gather her belongings.
“I never did it, missus,” Molly said as they were on the way out to the buggy.
Gladys could do nothing but say how sorry she was. Tears were falling down her cheeks as well as Molly’s when James helped the girl into the buggy, then climbed in and took the reins.
Gladys stood helplessly watching the buggy leave, but when she turned to go back into the house, she caught a glimpse of a face looking out of the parlour window. It was Rex, and he too was watching the buggy. There was a smug grin on his face—the same evil grin he wore when she first accused him of molesting Molly.
Suddenly, she knew what had happened. Hurrying into the house, she told one of the girls to ask Ruby to saddle her horse as quickly as possible. Then she added, “With a man’s saddle, not the side-saddle.”
Once in her room, Gladys pulled the pair of men’s trousers out of her trunk, knowing she would have to ride like a man in order to catch them before they arrived at the police station.
At first, Ruby thought
the girl had heard wrong, but she kept insisting that the missus had said a man’s saddle, so he finally gave in and had Tig ready to go by the time Gladys arrived at the stable. After a quick thank you, she jumped up on Tig without Ruby’s help, and, leaving the shocked groom with his mouth hanging open, she took off at a full gallop. Before he could get his breath back, he had another shock when Gladys’s mount jumped over the fence instead of waiting for someone to open the gate.
Tig was breathing hard and dripping lather when Gladys came galloping alongside James’s buggy and motioned for him to stop. “Molly did not take the money, sir,” she cried out as he was bringing his horse to a stop.
“I do not understand, and what in heaven’s name are you wearing?”
“Oh, please, sir, never mind that; I shall explain later. I had to catch you before you reached the police station. Molly did not take the money, but I know who did.”
“Are you quite sure about that?”
“I think so.”
“Well then, I suppose we had better turn around.”
Gladys arrived home before James and Molly and hurried to change her outfit. She was standing in the doorway when they arrived. Molly ran and threw her arms around her, crying “Oh, thank you, missus, I would never steal from you, or nobody else.”
“I know, Molly, I know. Now go to your room and put your things away while I talk to the master.”
James told Gladys to follow him into the library and demanded to know what it was all about.
“I am afraid I have made a terrible mistake,” Gladys said, and then she told him what had happened in the laundry room. “I know now that I had no right to handle the matter myself. I should have reported it to Jenkins, or come to you, but I thought I was being so clever in solving the problem without bothering anyone. Then, when you were driving off with Molly, I happened to see Rex looking out the parlour window. He was watching you leave with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and I suddenly remembered that was the look he wore when he first tried to deny what he had done to Molly.
“Sir, I am certain he took that money and put it under Molly’s mattress to punish her for telling me about his indecent behaviour.”
James was upset to learn about the footman and angry with Gladys for not reporting the incident, but under the circumstances, he had to agree that her suspicions made sense. He rang for Jenkins and asked him to find Rex and tell him he was wanted in the study. Rex passed by the kitchen on his way to the study and was shaken to hear the other girls welcoming Molly back. For a second he thought about running, but then he assured himself that there was no way anyone could prove he had anything to do with the theft.
When James said he knew what had happened in the laundry room, Rex said he was very sorry for what he had done.
“I thought Molly liked it, sir,” he said. “But when the missus told me Molly was afraid of me, I never did it again. I’ve done my best to be a good footman ever since, sir. You can ask Mr Jenkins, and he will tell you.”
“Well that is good to hear, but Molly said she didn’t take the money, and we thought you may have taken it and put it in her room as an act of revenge.”
“I have nothing against the girl, sir, and I would never take money from you, missus,” Rex said, turning to Gladys. He lied with such proficiency that for a second she almost believed him, but it was only for a second.
“You are lying, Rex. You went into my room and stole that money and hid it in Molly’s room. You might as well admit it because we know you did it.”
Rex knew how fond James was of the housekeeper, and he realized he would have to put up a good defence. “I am sorry you feel that way, missus, but you have no reason, or evidence, to prove me guilty. Your money was found under Molly’s mattress and not under mine.”
He’s right, Gladys thought, but then she realized the importance of what he just said, and she smiled. “Sir, could you have the rest of the staff come here for a minute?”
James looked puzzled, but sent for Jenkins then had him fetch the others.
When they were all in the room, Gladys said, “Freda, I would like you and Rex to leave the room, and don’t come back until I call you.”
After the pair had left and the door was closed, she said, “Now I want to ask the rest of you a question, and I want you to think about it very carefully before you answer. Where in Molly’s room did Freda find the stolen money?”
Suddenly, James understood what she was getting at, and he couldn’t repress a smile.
When it was clear that no one knew the answer, Gladys called Freda and Rex back into the room. “Freda, did you tell anyone except Mr Hornsby and I where Molly hid the money?”
“No, missus, I never told a soul!”
“And where was it?”
“It was under her mattress, missus.”
Gladys had her proof. James wasted no time and delivered Rex to the authorities that afternoon. A few days later, Abdul, the gardener’s eighteen-year-old nephew, was hired as the second footman.
For a while, Jenkins was short with Gladys for not confiding in him as soon as she found out his footman was molesting one of her chambermaids, but when she assured him she would never do such a thing again, he forgave her.
One evening after she had played and sung for James, Gladys mentioned that she enjoyed theatre, having been introduced to it by a very good friend she once knew. James was delighted to learn of something else they had in common. There were many socialites who wouldn’t enter a theatre because the Queen had let it be known that she thought thespians a sordid lot. James, on the other hand, enjoyed the plays the students put on in college and even took part in a few. Occasionally, a troupe of players or a single actor would come to Sandwich and perform in the local theatre, and, now knowing how Gladys felt, he began inviting her to accompany him whenever there was an evening performance.
At first, there was a great deal of speculation among the townspeople over the identity of James’s beautiful companion, but when it became known she was his housekeeper, they were appalled. That a man of James’s social standing would openly socialize with a mere servant was scandalous, and it managed to keep the tongues of the local gossips wagging for over a month.
Even the local peasants disapproved, and for a time, heads turned, faces scowled, and whispers hissed whenever they were seen together. James seemed oblivious to it all, but Gladys was aware that she was being labelled as a mistress, or worse, a whore. Nevertheless, she enjoyed going to the theatre so much that she finally decided to ignore the gossip, and like she had done when she became engaged to Tom, she held her head high wherever she went. It seemed to help, and after a time, some of the scowls were replaced with smiles.
James was fond of George Gordon Byron’s poems, and one of his favourites was “The Prisoner of Chillon.” When he heard that a young, local actor by the name of Lloyd Sylvester was doing a recitation of the poem, he invited Gladys to go with him. The only other person she had ever seen monopolize the stage was the popular writer Charles Dickens when he was staying in Dover, and she was certain that no one could compare with him. However, she was in for a pleasant surprise.
As they entered the theatre, they could see the stage was set with seven pillars evenly placed in a half circle where a man with long, grey, straggly hair and a beard was seated on the floor. He was leaning against one of the pillars with his back bent and his head down. A heavy chain attached to one of the pillars was shackled to his wrist. There were chains attached to two more pillars as well, but they lay open and empty.
As soon as the theatre seats were full, the candles were extinguished. Except for the dimly lit stage, there was total darkness. His chain rattled as the old man rose slowly. His back was so bent that his hands almost touched the floor. He leaned against the pillar for support. Then, with eyes almost hidden by grey, bushy brows, he looked out at the darkness and began:
&
nbsp; “My hair is grey, but not in years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
As men’s have grown from sudden fears:
My limbs are bow’d, though not with toil,
But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon’s spoil,
And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are bann’d, and barr’d—forbidden fare;”
As he recited, his words transformed the stage into a dungeon for all those in the audience. Their imaginations supplied the dank smell of moist earth and mould. A small ray of light shone on the stage as he continued:
“There are seven pillars of Gothic mould,
In Chillon’s dungeons deep and old,
A sunbeam which hath lost its way,
And through the crevice and the cleft
Of the thick wall is fallen and left;
Creeping o’er the floor so damp,
Like a marsh’s meteor lamp:
And each pillar there is a ring,
And each ring there is a chain.”
Although the poem consisted of three hundred and ninety-two lines, the audience was sorry when he lifted up his arm and recited the last eighteen of them as the chain left his wrist and dropped noisily to the floor.
“And thus when they appear’d at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage—and all my own!
And half I felt as they were come
To tear me from a second home:
With spiders I had friendship made
And watch’d them in their sullen trade,
Had seen the mice by moonlight play,
And why should I feel less than they?
We were all inmates of one place,
And I, the monarch of each race,
Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell!
Woman from Dover Page 6