‘Then don’t. We want no mischief-making between Carrie and her young man, Elsie. And that goes for the rest of you. Our Carrie’s made her choice, and ’tis up to her to make a go of it.’
A spasm of pain took her breath away at that moment, and she hid the discomfort by pretending to drop a fork and asking Billy to go foraging about on the floor for it to save her bending. The spasm passed off quickly enough, but left May thinking briefly that once this babby made his appearance, he’d best pull his weight in the family, or she’d know the reason why. A body shouldn’t have to go through all this for nothing.
‘We must think about decking up the house a bit to make it look festive,’ she said, when she felt more able to speak easily again. Without realising it, she gave Wilf his chance.
‘There’s some fine holly bushes along the railway line, Ma. They don’t like us taking the holly, really, but if I take your old bread bin to work with me tomorrow, they’ll think I’m just carrying tools or eats or summat. Then I can put some sprigs inside it, and nobody will be any the wiser.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Ma said in surprise. Wilf never normally bothered about such things, but at least it made her think he wasn’t totally against their unusual Christmas Day.
* * *
He was as nervous as a kitten when he handed over the bread bin to Nora inside the Woolley carriage the next evening. He was still trying to figure out how he’d explain the non-arrival of the holly to Ma later on, but he’d put that right another time. This was of prime importance to him.
‘What’s this?’ Nora said in puzzlement. ‘I’ve never been given a bread bin as a gift before, Wilf.’
‘Open it,’ he instructed. ‘And I promise you won’t find a cottage loaf inside.’
It was a play on words that as yet she didn’t follow. She lifted the lid curiously, and then gasped as she took out the perfect miniature of her own home. It was complete in every detail, with windows that opened and closed, and tiny wrought iron lamps attached to each of the doors. Wilf had fashioned it with the wood that he loved, and painted it in faithful colourings.
Nora said nothing for a few minutes, and then she looked at him with shining eyes.
‘Oh Wilf, it’s so beautiful! And you’re so clever, and so — so dear.’
She swayed into his arms, and hugged him close. She hated the thought of being away from him for a minute, but her father’s wretched cousins who were coming for Christmas the very next day, had insisted they spend the New Year with them in London. She hated the very thought, but there was nothing she could do about it.
‘Oh, I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said against his shoulder.
‘No more than I shall miss you. And with such company as I shall have on Christmas Day too,’ he said, unable to resist a scowl.
Nora put on a prim face. ‘Now Wilf, please promise me you won’t be unpleasant to your sister’s young man. Try to like him for Carrie’s sake. I only wish I could take you home and announce to all my family that you’re the man I love, but Father’s so unpredictable, I daren’t even think about it. He’s still so scratchy whenever the name Stuckey is mentioned.’
‘I know, sweetheart, and I’ll try to behave with the Travis fellow, but only because you asked it of me. Now, do you think you can get the doll’s house home safely?’
‘Oh yes. Our driver is very loyal and discreet, and will assist me, I’m sure. I’ll wrap it in the carriage blanket, and if anyone questions me, I’ll say I’ve been buying Christmas gifts, and that no-one must spoil the surprise.’
Wilf laughed. ‘How clever we’re becoming at subterfuge these days. And how dreary that we have to resort to it!’
In answer, she pressed her soft mouth to his. At that moment, he would have given her the earth if he could.
By the time he left her it was growing dark, and he strode home with the bread bin beneath his arm, already missing her. He paused as he saw the light from the open church door where Mr Pritchard, the minister, preached. Almost at once, the door closed again, and the minister was on his way home. But not before, like a gift from God, Wilf had seen the holly bush in the churchyard, ablaze with berries. With one bound, he was over the hedge, and had filled the bread bin with sprigs, content with his night’s work.
* * *
Two days later, the Honourable Rupert Egerton presented himself at the Barclay mansion at precisely four o’clock in the afternoon. He was not such a stickler for time-keeping as Helen’s father, but he knew he had better not be late for this important meeting. He had known Helen for some years, and they had always got on well, but of late he’d taken to observing her secretly. The young lady herself wasn’t aware of his intentions yet, but he’d noted her mannerisms and admired her qualities many times. He was convinced, by her beauty and her background, that she would make him an admirable wife.
Although the Barclays had been invited to Egerton Hall for their annual Christmas dinner and evening entertainment, Rupert was a man who liked to put plans into action the minute he had decided on them. And he had definitely decided on Miss Helen Barclay as a fine match for himself. The gel had a good pedigree, she was fiery in spirit, and she was also well-proportioned. He couldn’t abide the string-bean type of woman. Helen Barclay would do very well for him, he ruminated. And it would put a sparkle to the festive celebrations if their engagement could be announced to each family’s satisfaction.
The girl of his calculations manifested herself into his vision at that moment. She came towards him with both hands outstretched as he waited in the hall for the maid to announce him to her parents.
‘Rupert, what on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d be at home running the estate, or whatever it is you landowners do,’ she said, having known him long enough to tease. ‘Don’t you have a lot of planning to do for the Boxing Day hunt or something, or do you leave that all to your gamekeepers, or whatever they’re called?’
‘Something like that,’ he grinned back, liking this easy manner of hers more and more, despite the vagueness on country affairs. ‘Actually, I’m here to speak with your parents on a personal matter of some importance. But since I’ve got you to myself for a moment, I trust you’re going to join us in the hunt on Boxing Day?’
‘Well, yes, it might be fun, though I didn’t know we were invited for Boxing Day too,’ she said, smiling, and liking the idea more and more.
‘Our festivities go on until the New Year, so why not stay for the entire week?’ Rupert said casually. ‘This is one of the reasons I’m here, Helen. I know it’s appallingly short notice, but we’ve been having extended renovations done to the house, and weren’t sure if the workmen would be finished in time, but it’s in splendid shape now, and I’d love you to see it. My mother always says she never sees enough of you to get to know you properly, so I hope your parents will agree to the extended visit.’
Her eyes widened a little. He was really a most personable young man, and an Honourable too. He was the sole heir to a vast country estate of deer parks and farms, and the old family seat of Egerton Hall itself was so exquisite … and after all, she was able to ride, and had been complimented on her seat on a horse … all Helen’s old notions of boredom in the depths of the country underwent a swift radical change.
‘Why, that might be very enjoyable,’ she said. ‘It all depends on my parents’ agreement, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Rupert said, smiling, sure that once he had presented himself and his fortune to the Barclay parents there would be no opposition at all. He could sweep this delightful girl off her feet here and now if he wanted to … and almost to his surprise, he wasn’t exactly averse to the idea either.
He’d planned this offer for her hand rather cold-bloodedly, after sifting through an array of eligible young ladies. He was careless enough to settle for a marriage of mutual convenience, since any personable young gentleman could find his dalliances outside the marriage bed whenever he wanted them.
But the m
ore he saw of Helen’s soft skin and melting eyes, the more he realised that this was a marriage that could become something far more. It gave Rupert a piquant feeling, because so many landowners married just for convenience, and many of his acquaintances weren’t blessed with love matches … how extraordinary if this one turned out to be one of the exceptions after all.
‘Rupert, you’ll make me blush if you stare at me so long and so hard,’ he heard her say in a breathless manner that was quite unlike the forthright young woman he knew her to be. But he didn’t object to that either. He liked her soft and feminine and breathless, every bit as much as he liked her strong, and perfectly capable of being mistress of his estate. And perhaps of his heart too, Rupert thought, with a rare burst of sentimentality.
‘That’s because you remind me of a beautiful painting, and all men like to stand and admire beautiful paintings until they’ve taken their fill,’ he told her now.
They had known one another too long for him to be lavish with such compliments, and he saw her mouth open slightly in astonishment at this one. And then the butler opened the door to the drawing-room and announced that the lady and gentleman of the house were ready to receive him. On an impulse, he took Helen’s hand in his, and raised it to his lips. Above her fingers their eyes met, and she fell instantly, and irrevocably, in love.
* * *
When she reached her own room, she gazed at herself in her dressing-table mirror for long moments, before she rang imperiously for Carrie to come running.
‘What’s happened?’ Carrie said at once, still too worried at her mother’s appearance to mince words while she awaited instructions. And for once, Helen didn’t chastise her.
‘The Honourable Rupert Egerton has come to see my father,’ she said, and then she couldn’t say any more as the dazzling realisation that Rupert’s father was a Lord surged into her mind. Rupert’s wife would one day be Lady Egerton … for a young lady who had always known wealth and a comfortable life, Helen was completely bewitched by the thought of love and money going hand in hand …
‘Is he the gent whose house you’re going to on Christmas evening?’ Carrie asked. ‘It ain’t cancelled, is it?’
She hoped it was, if it meant she could spend more of the evening at home. It was tiring to keep running back and forth, especially when the hills were slippery with frost, and besides, Ma needed her far more than Miss Barclay.
Helen laughed, twirling around on her dressing-stool. ‘No, it’s not cancelled! I have a strong suspicion that he’s going to ask my father for my hand, and if he does, I’ve decided I shall accept!’
‘Good God almighty!’ Carrie exclaimed without thinking. ‘Bit sudden, isn’t it? I mean — well, you ain’t exactly been falling over yourself to get wed, have you, miss? It’s not for me to say, of course, and I should be begging your pardon for my impertinence —’
‘Yes, you should, but I forgive you today, Carrie,’ Helen said gaily. ‘Rupert is also inviting us all to stay over Christmas and for the New Year celebrations, and naturally I shall expect you to accompany me to the country.’
Carrie felt the blood drain out of her face. ‘But I can’t! It’s the very time that Ma will need me most. The babby could come any time now, and I can’t go off and leave her, ‘specially the state she’s in.’
Her heart began to thud as she saw Helen’s face darken, and the tight-lipped look she remembered so well spoiled the pretty features.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Carrie. While you work for me, you’ll do exactly as I wish,’ Helen snapped. ‘You take far too many liberties as it is, and I’ve given you endless time off in the last few months. I’ll certainly hear no excuses this time. If I say you will accompany me to Egerton Hall on Christmas evening and stay for the duration of our visit, then that is exactly what you will do.’
‘And if I won’t?’ Carrie said through dry lips.
Helen got to her feet in a fury. ‘You insolent baggage! After all the kindness you’ve been shown in this house, feeding your wretched family half the time, and encouraging you to see that young prize-fighter whenever you liked, you have the audacity to question my wishes?’
Tears threatened to fill Carrie’s eyes, but she’d be damned if she’d cry in front of this haughty madam. She dashed them back angrily, her voice tight.
‘You’ve no right to speak of my family in that way. They’re good folk, and Ma’s had a rough time all these months with the babby. And John ain’t primarily a prize-fighter neither.’
‘People like you shouldn’t be filling the world with babies they can ill afford to keep,’ Helen said. ‘They should have more control over themselves.’
She was impossible, Carrie raged. She had no idea of how other folk lived, or loved, or tried desperately to keep their dignity when times were bad. She tried to hold on to her temper.
‘Well, I’m not going to the country with you, and that’s flat,’ she heard herself say tremulously. ‘Ma needs me, and it’s my duty to look after her.’
‘Then you may leave this house immediately,’ Helen said. ‘Pack your things and go, for I’m sick of the sight of you. I’ll see that your wages are sent on to you.’
Carrie stared at her dumbly. She hadn’t meant to be so defiant, or to give such an ultimatum, but neither would her pride allow her to plead with this spoilt, pampered miss. And it was easy to see there was to be no compromise from Helen.
Carrie turned on her heel and walked stiffly from the room, and it was only when she was outside it that she leaned against the door, feeling as if every bone in her body was turning to water.
What a fool she had been! Even though she had good reasons for not wanting to go away at this time, and would have felt like a rat deserting a sinking ship if she wasn’t around when Ma had the babby, Helen Barclay had her rights too. Helen was her employer and could dictate whatever she wished to her. And until all this tirade had started, she had looked so ecstatic about this new beau of hers.
Carrie’s momentary stab of guilt at dashing such happiness from her employer’s eyes, vanished just as quickly, and her mouth twisted. The Hon. Rupert Egerton was welcome to her, she thought savagely, wondering if he knew just how quickly his beloved’s moods could change when she didn’t get her own way.
Well, it was no longer any concern of hers. She’d been given her marching orders, and the sooner she was away from here, the better. Though how she was going to face Pa and tell him she’d lost her job, with all the little extras that went with it, she didn’t know.
The oddments from the kitchen … the fruit that was so good for Ma … the Christmas goose … at the thought of the table bird they’d all looked forward to so much, her face finally crumpled, and she fled from Miss Barclay’s room with her hands over her face to the sanctuary of her own chilly room, where she could sob in peace.
* * *
‘You just let me say whether or not you get that Christmas goose,’ Cook told her indignantly, once the story became common news below stairs. ‘There ain’t a body who’s worked harder’n you for that young madam, what with the washing and pressing, and being at her beck and call every minute of the day and night.’
‘She had a right to expect me to go with her though, Cook,’ Carrie said, between sniffs.
The kindness she had met below stairs was almost more than she could bear, after the scratchy scene above with Helen. The skivvies had been openly admiring of anyone daring to answer the young lady back, and especially to refuse point blank to do as she wished. But a fat lot of good it had done her, Carrie thought.
‘The gentry don’t have no right to think they can control folks’ thoughts and feelings,’ Cook went on, ‘and of course your Ma needs you. Mebbe once the babby’s here, safe and sound, Miss Helen will reconsider your position with her.’
Carrie shook her head vehemently. ‘I could never work for her again. Besides, if she goes off to Egerton Hall to live, I’d never see Ma at all.’
‘Nor your young man,’ Cook remind
ed her.
She gave a start. She’d hardly given John a thought in the last hour. Aside from her fury at hearing him referred to as a prize-fighter, all her worries had been about Ma, and how she was going to tell Pa she’d thrown away a good position. She began to wonder if she really was in love with John Travis after all, or if she had just had her head turned by having a young man so interested in her. It was one more sobering thought among a day of gloom and one she didn’t want to dwell on for too long.
‘Anyway, you just leave the Christmas bird to me,’ Cook said again. ‘There’ll be plenty of tid-bits from the pantry too. The rich folk have no idea what comes in and out of their kitchens, and you ain’t going to go short, my duck.’
‘Thank you,’ Carrie said, too choked to say any more.
There was nothing else to do then, once she’d drunk the cup of steaming tea Cook had insisted on, but to take her bag of belongings and go home. Everyone here had work to do, while her hands were suddenly idle. It was a very odd sensation.
She felt more than a mild panic, wondering how she was going to fill her days … and then her common sense took over. Wasn’t this the ideal time to ease Ma’s load, and to take over the running of the Stuckey house? And there were still many rich Clifton clients who would welcome the skill of the washer-girl who took such care of their precious silks and laces in her own home.
If it all seemed very much like a backward step, Carrie refused to see it that way. She lifted her chin and left the Barclay mansion with a firm step, and only her white knuckles on the grip of her bag betrayed a smidgeon of the turbulent feelings inside.
* * *
‘Well, that’s a fine to do, I must say,’ Sam Stuckey bellowed, as soon as she had blurted out her news, and dumped her baggage on the parlour table. ‘I always knew you had a fiery tongue in your head, but I didn’t think you were completely stupid as well.’
‘Leave it, Sam,’ Ma said quickly. ‘Can’t you see the girl’s had enough for one day?’
Hidden Currents Page 26