Although they were always ill-behaved, Maggie had started to discover that the little twins were generally much more mischievous than usual whenever their parents were about. And she had also begun to discover that these same twins generally attracted what little attention they got from their parents whenever they were at their worst.
One afternoon Augusta had manufactured a very pretty little posy out of scraps of material and a few remnants of ribbon and, keen to reward her for applying herself constructively for almost a complete hour without disrupting anything else, Maggie had suggested that she might like to present it to her mama, who might carry it with her when she next went out for the evening.
‘But she will not like it, Miss Owens,’ the girl had asserted. ‘Mama never likes anything I do. I want you to have it. Mama will not even look at it, I’m sure.’
Maggie, realising that Augusta was probably quite correct, accepted the gift with some sadness and gave the little girl a much-needed hug. So when, only a very few minutes later, she bumped into Mrs William as she crossed to her own room from the schoolroom she determined on raising the matter with her, and maybe recommending that she showed a little more interest in the development of her children every now and then.
Mrs William had looked at the posy with distaste.
‘But why ever would I wish to carry such an ugly thing as that to an engagement?’ she had said, dismissively. ‘I should be the laughing stock, Miss Owens. I am heartily surprised that you should even think such a thing, never mind suggest it.’
‘But Augusta put such a great deal of effort into it we thought that you might appreciate it. If you don’t mind my saying so, I do wonder whether the children might behave a little better were they to feel secure of your affection for them, Mrs Wright.’ Maggie knew that she was on dangerous ground here, but she felt that she owed it to her little charges to do the best she could for them. ‘I fear that they think they must misbehave in order to get any attention from you.’
This was a little much for the tender mama to take. Pulling herself up to her full height - which, unfortunately for her, and more particularly for the effect she had been hoping to create, was still a good few inches shorter than Maggie - she took on her most steely look, tossed her head like a horse, and thundered:
‘And since when have you been such an expert in how I should bring up my own children, Miss Owens? I am their mama, after all, in case you should have forgotten. I think I know better than a young chit of a girl,’ Maggie did not quite see herself as a chit of a girl. She was twenty one years old, and earning her own living, after all. ‘....a young chit of a girl, about how best to bring up my own children? I do wonder about your own abilities as a governess, to be honest. I would have thought that you could control them better than you do. Why, whenever I see them they are always misbehaving. I should wish that you would teach them better manners from now on.’
‘But that is exactly what I am trying to do, ma’am. I would like you to reward them by noticing their good behaviour and not just noticing the bad. I do my best in the schoolroom, but it is their mama whom they really want to please - and their mama who can influence them the most.’
‘Enough!’ stormed Mrs William. ‘That is quite enough, Miss Owens. I wish to hear no more about it. I see my children’s behaviour as entirely your responsibility. They are with you for far more of every day than they can possibly be with their mama. I shall expect to see a big improvement over the coming few weeks - a big improvement. And if you do not feel that you are up to it then I suggest you start to look for a less demanding position somewhere else.’
Chapter 29
Since the denouement of their little romance Maggie and Mr Wright had maintained a more formal and distinctly cool relationship which, now that Maggie was able to look at it with a less impassioned eye, was a much more comfortable situation than had been the case before. However, this reversion to a purely professional relationship did not come without disadvantages of its own. Had she remained on friendly terms with her employer she should probably have felt able to raise her concerns – her concerns about the twins, and her concerns about Mrs Staveley - with him. She would like to have been able to ask him whether he knew of the old lady’s plight in his household and to ask him whether he might, perhaps, feel obliged to intervene. With her new status as a mere paid hand she did not feel at all able to raise so delicate an issue with him, and neither could she feel at all able to raise anything further with his wife. However, she knew roughly what time the post was expected – not that she received any correspondence herself, of course, but she had occasionally been in the vicinity when the letters had arrived – and so for the next couple of days she made it her business to pass through the hallway at the requisite time and sneak a quick look whilst the butler paid the man for their carriage.
Her subterfuge paid off almost immediately, for after a couple of fruitless mornings Maggie was thrilled to discover a letter for Mrs Staveley, directed in a rather hilly but round hand which struck her immediately as the sort of hand that Mr Staveley would have, awaiting collection on the modern console table in the hall. She looked about her for a second. There was nobody to be seen. So she took the letter in her hand, kissed it with a surreptitious little smile, and was just in the process of slipping it into her reticule when the drawing room door opened and Mrs Wright instantly emerged. Maggie’s hand stopped, frozen, in mid air. Mrs Wright’s hand stopped, equally frozen, on the handle of the drawing room door.
‘Whatever are you doing with that letter, Miss Owens?’ she demanded, moving forward to peer at it more closely. ‘It is certainly not yours to remove. I demand that you hand it to me this instant.’
Maggie found that she was trembling. She was feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, though she knew that she’d done nothing wrong.
‘I do beg your pardon, Mrs Wright,’ she heard herself saying. ‘I saw that it was directed to Mrs Staveley. I know that she is desperate to hear from her son so I thought I should take it up to her this instant.’
Mrs Wright stiffened. She was wearing a new morning gown ‘à la militaire’, finished off with a Parisienne mob cap with flaps to the ears and a large item of decorative fruit at the front which looked like it could have been a pear. It would have made her appear quite comical had the sternness of her expression not detracted from the effect. As it was Maggie found it difficult to look her in the eye.
‘You thought? You thought? And since when have you had any authority to decide who should have their post and who should not?’
She stalked up to Maggie and held out her hand. Maggie gave her the letter without thinking.
‘I’m sorry Mrs Wright. I had been talking to Mrs Staveley only the other day and she asked me particularly to look out for a letter for her. I certainly have no wish to cause you any offence.’
Mrs William ripped open the seal and allowed the paper to unfold. Another piece of paper fluttered down to the ground from within it. They both looked down and stared at it. It was a note from the Bank of England, made out for the sum of five pounds.
Mrs William’s demeanour suddenly changed. She grimaced menacingly at her governess. Here was the opportunity she had obviously been waiting for.
‘Oh, so you have been talking to Mrs Staveley, have you? You have been visiting her whilst her son is in Town, prying, going through her things, hoping to find something of value that she may not miss. Oh no, Miss Owens,’ as Maggie was about to make some protest. ‘Oh no – do not even think of gainsaying me. I know that you are a robber and a thief. I know that you steal from the old fool, just as you tried to steal my husband away from me. You steal her jewellery, do you not – you take her trinkets from her and sell them for yourself and now you are trying to steal the money she is given by her son – money which is clearly intended for me. Oh yes – yes indeed. You know that it’s true. You cannot deny it. You cannot fool me, you know, Miss Owens. You cannot fool me at all. Did you really think that I did not see you tha
t day at Belvoir House – sidling off with that rascally husband of mine into the bushes round the side? Did you not know that I saw the pathetic little worm – who will pay for it as surely as you will pay, be assured of that, my dear – creeping like the rat he is out of your chamber at the dead of night? Did you not know that I should find you out for what you really are? You think you are clever – you think you are bright and can get away with all your goings-on, do you not, Miss Owens? But you are not a very bright young lady after all. You are not a bright young lady at all. I have spotted all of your little tricks and you have done for yourself right and proper. So – what do you have to say for yourself – eh? That you are not the robber that I can prove you are? That you have not tried to make me look a fool? Come on, then – speak up, Miss Owens. Persuade me of your innocence. I am waiting to hear your defence.’
Maggie found that she could say absolutely nothing in her own defence. Want to or not, she found herself completely unable to speak. She stared at Mrs William open mouthed. The onslaught had come so entirely out of the blue that words failed her. She was totally unable to think of anything whatsoever to say.
‘So you cannot deny the charges, Miss Owens?’ continued Mrs William, looking at her triumphantly. ‘You cannot find any words in self defence. I thought not. I have to say, you do not surprise me in the least. You deserve to be tried and hanged at the gallows for everything that you’ve done in my household. Tried and taken to the gallows. But allow me to give you a little choice, Miss Owens. My own good nature knows no bounds, to be sure. Here is a choice for you to make. Either you pack your trunk immediately – this very moment – and remove yourself from Grosvenor Place for ever or I shall get you indicted for robbery at the Dorchester assizes and get you sent quite away. Take your pick, Miss Owens. Removal or assizes. I care not which you choose.’
For a long moment Maggie just stood and looked at the bundle of righteous indignation that stood before her. She blinked unconsciously. Was this really happening to her? Surely it was only a dream? It felt most peculiar - as if she were suddenly somebody else. It felt as if she were a third party floating somewhere in the stairwell, looking down at the drama which was then being enacted in the dingy brown hallway of Grosvenor Place. But then she realised that it was not a dream – that she really was standing there with Mrs Wright, listening to her barrage of pent-up abuse, hearing that she no longer had a job, or a home, and that she should leave the household without a friend in the world, without anybody who could offer her any support. Perhaps she should stand her ground – brazen it out, challenge Mrs William to do her worst and indict her after all? She knew that she was perfectly innocent, that she would no more think of robbing Mrs Staveley than she would fly to the moon, and for a second or two she almost decided to put her employer to the test. Perhaps she should challenge her to get her indicted? Perhaps she should be allowed to prove her innocence in court? She thought these things for a second or two but then she cast them aside. She had so little faith in the criminal justice system – she had heard so much of its corruption and its procedural failings – and so little faith that she could prove that what Mrs Wright was accusing her of was false that she had to feel almost grateful to her for allowing her the chance to run away.
Chapter 30
‘But wherever is she now, Jane?’
Kathryn was taking tea with her sister-in-law. Mrs John had heard the news from Mrs William almost as soon as Maggie had vacated the house and she was now repeating it verbatim between mouthfuls of bread and jam as they sat comfortably together in the warm yellow rays of the late September sun. The jam had just been made by Kathryn with the final raspberries from Belvoir’s extensive crop. They were finding it quite delicious.
‘I have no more idea than you, Kathryn. I expect that she has taken some lodgings somewhere until she decides what to do next. But do you really think that she would steal those things? I must confess not to have taken a great deal of notice of her until now, but she has always struck me as a genteel, pleasant sort of a girl. I would not have thought her a common crook.’
Kathryn shook her dark curls firmly.
‘No, she is no more a thief than you or I. Yes, she may have been misguided. She may have been naive. But she is as honest as the next man, Jane, of that I am certain. Indeed, surely, had Mrs William truly believed that she was guilty of the thefts she would not have given her the option of simply running away. Have no doubt - Georgiana is not a benevolent woman. She would not have given Miss Owens the chance to run away out of the goodness of her heart. No, I cannot think that she truly believed in her guilt. But what on earth is the poor girl to do now?’
‘I cannot imagine. It will be most difficult for her, that’s for sure. I doubt she has much money to tide her over and even were she to find an advertisement tomorrow I expect it would be quite some time before she could secure another post.’
Kathryn frowned. She had not seen much of Miss Owens of late – she and Andrew tended to steer clear of Grosvenor Place as much as possible – and she had no idea as to whether Maggie had taken her advice regarding Mr Wright. Certainly Mrs William’s reaction suggested the revenge of a woman scorned. Nevertheless, whether Maggie had been culpable or merely foolish it seemed a harsh punishment to send her out into the world entirely on her own.
‘Well, if ever you should hear of where she’s gone please be sure and let me know, Jane. I should like to do something for the poor girl if I could. She has no other friends, to my knowledge. It is not a pleasant situation, believe me, to find oneself entirely on one’s own.’
Mrs Wright smiled and nodded.
‘I will certainly listen to the gossip,’ she assured her. ‘I expect that someone will know where she has gone.’
Chapter 31
Kathryn was so concerned at what her sister-in-law had told her that despite the lateness of the hour – it was almost a quarter before five when she quitted High Street – she determined on going immediately round to Grosvenor Place and interviewing Mrs Staveley for herself. Mrs Staveley was a good sort of a woman. True, she was getting a little old and forgetful but she most certainly would have her own views on the truth of the matter, and may even have some inkling as to where Maggie might have gone.
She rapped at the front door firmly and awaited admission by the butler.
‘I fear that Mrs Wright will be dressing for dinner, ma’am,’ he informed her, politely. ‘Would you like me to notify her that you are here?’
‘No – no thank you, Mr Rogers. It is Mrs Staveley whom I have really come to see. I wonder – would it be possible to request a short interview with her, do you think?’
The butler bowed, showed Mrs Berkeley into the drawing room, and made his way up to Mrs Staveley’s chamber to enquire. He was down again in a moment.
‘Mrs Staveley would be delighted to see you, ma’am,’ he informed her. ‘Would you care to follow me?’
Kathryn followed the butler up the stairs – the first flight grand and well carpeted, the second flight much less so – with a somewhat nervous flutter in her stomach. Although she had every right to be there – Mrs Staveley was perfectly entitled to receive visitors after all – she still felt as if she were trespassing in a prohibited area. She knew that she should feel most uncomfortable should she find herself caught out. But fortune was to smile on her tonight. The butler was as soft-footed as herself. They made their way noiselessly to the front of the house and he opened a door respectfully before making his way down the stairs again. Indeed, as the nursery was situated on the same upstairs floor, just across the hallway from Mrs Staveley’s room, it would have been highly unlikely for anyone to have heard their progress. It sounded as if a riot was then ensuing from behind the nursery door. Kathryn breathed a little prayer of thanks that her own children were not at all like Mrs William’s. Lively she was happy with, but everyone had their limits.
Mrs Staveley was dressed, as usual, in her neat black silk dress and old-fashioned, much frayed, mob
cap. Kathryn did wonder why the old lady had not bought herself a new one, and why her hair had not been caught up in it - for today it was flowing quite freely down her back. However, she had much more important things to think of just then. She bobbed a little curtsy and crossed the room to take the seat which Mrs Staveley was indicating. A curled-up piece of bread and meat was sitting on the table in front of her.
Kathryn ignored it determinedly.
‘Oh, what a beautiful view you have, Mrs Staveley. I can well see why you like to sit here rather than venturing downstairs.’
‘Yes, it is of some comfort to me to be sure, Mrs....err....my dear. I do enjoy looking at the sea and seeing the little children playing on the beach. It half makes up for the lack of company within.’
‘You do not receive many visitors?’
‘Hardly any, I’m afraid. I agreed to share my niece’s house because I hoped that I should have a little more company. It had been very lonely living in a big house on my own, and one cannot always find the right sort of companion when one has to pay for her. Yes, I had hoped for better things here in ....yes.... but sadly it seems that it is just not destined to be. My son, Frederick, has gone to Town with someone else and he will doubtless return to sea at some time and leave me quite alone again. I had thought that Miss – oh, what is her name? – My memory, Mrs.... – my memory is not what it used to be. I was always so good with names. I had hoped that the governess lady would visit me tonight. I was not expecting you at all.’
An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy) Page 15