Langdown Manor

by Sue Reid

  ‘Why, it’s from Flo!’ I exclaimed. ‘She’s in town.’ I was delighted that she’d remembered me. ‘She has invited me to tea. May I go, Aunt?’ I asked eagerly.

  ‘Well,’ said Aunt, pursing up her lips. ‘I need to know a little more about this … Flo, you say?’

  I sighed impatiently.

  ‘You may sigh, Penelope, but I must be sure that she is a suitable acquaintance for you,’ Aunt said firmly.

  What would she say if she knew about Fred?

  Reluctantly I appealed to Arabella.

  ‘Arabella, you remember Flo,’ I said. ‘She was a guest at Whichcombe Park when we went there for tea.’

  Arabella shrugged. ‘There were so many girls there, I hardly know.’ A smile flickered across her face – a mean little smile. I yearned to say something to wipe it off. But I forced myself to keep my temper. I badly wanted to go to tea with Flo.

  ‘Flo Waterlow,’ I said.

  ‘Waterlow?’ enquired my aunt. ‘Do you mean Countess Waterlow’s daughter? Why didn’t you say so before?’

  Because I’m not a snob like you.

  Aunt turned beaming to Arabella. ‘Arabella, I didn’t know you were friends with Lady Florence Waterlow? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I expect Arabella forgot, Aunt,’ I put in. ‘She was surrounded by friends.’ I smiled sweetly at her. Arabella glowered.

  ‘Well, we must call of course and leave our card,’ Aunt said. ‘Lady Florence’s elder brother is the most eligible bachelor this season.’

  I am planning for Arabella to marry him.

  ‘And then may I go to tea?’

  ‘As soon as we have observed the social niceties,’ Aunt said. ‘I will send round my card tomorrow.’

  ‘But it’s for tea. I’m not out yet. Surely—’

  ‘Penelope!’ Aunt raised her eyebrows.

  I want Arabella to meet Lord Waterlow, too. And you, niece, will make sure that she does.

  I drummed my fingers impatiently on the table. ‘If you have finished tea, Penelope, perhaps you would like to retire to your chamber to rest. It has been a long and tiring day for you.’

  Which must be why you seem to have forgotten all Madame’s careful tutoring.

  I had spent the day moving from one seat to another and was not tired at all. I longed to stretch my legs, and I was eager to explore the city. But I felt sure the nearest I would get to seeing anything I wanted to see would be from the interior of the carriage, and under the watchful eye of a chaperone.

  I retired to my chamber, my letter in my hand. I held it as if it was a talisman. However awful the next few weeks would be, at least I had an ally now. Aunt had shown rare enthusiasm when she had learned that I knew the sister of one of the season’s most eligible bachelors. And I knew why. Marriage to an eligible young man was the proper destination of all young ladies. It was the only reason we were here. But it was not the destination for me.

  DOWNSTAIRS

  I lifted one of the heavy irons off the stove and pressed it down carefully. Steam billowed up. I lifted it up and then pressed down again, taking care to raise it before the delicate fabric scorched. I’d yards and yards to iron still and already my eyes were drooping with tiredness. It was my first day in London. Miss P was downstairs having tea. I’d got over the hurdle of having to eat dessert in the housekeeper’s room. I told myself I’d get used to it, but I didn’t really want to.

  The others had chattered away like old friends, but I’d felt too shy to speak much. I knew that Barrett’s eye was on me, judging me. And I was sure that the other ladies’ maids looked down on me. But Mrs Barlow, the housekeeper in charge of the London house, spoke to me just as she did to all the other upper servants. I wondered how much Mrs Smithson had told her about me. Did she know that only a few months ago I’d been a lowly housemaid? Well, she’d find out soon enough. Miss Arabella’s snooty maid would be bound to tell her.

  My bedroom doubled as workroom. Here I’d tend to Miss P’s gowns – brushing, washing, drying, ironing and mending them. I’d arrived ahead of the family, so that I’d have time to unpack and prepare myself before I was needed.

  Mrs Barlow had shown me to my room. ‘It is quite small,’ she had said apologetically, opening the door, ‘but you should find it adequate for your needs.’ I’d looked round. To me it was a palace. It was furnished with a bed, a comfortable chair and cupboards. There was even a dressing table. I’d never had a dressing table before. I’d never even had a room of my own before. At Langdown I’d shared a room with the other housemaids and at home I’d had to share a bed with two of my sisters. ‘It will do nicely,’ I’d said, as if I was used to such grandeur. I felt as if I was acting a part. I still didn’t feel like a proper lady’s maid. It felt like wearing shoes that didn’t fit. Mrs Barlow had smiled. ‘I’ll leave you to unpack,’ she’d said. I’d made haste to put away my clothes and hang up my gowns. I’d written to Mam telling her about the job, and how much I was dreading it. But she’d written back saying what a lucky girl I was. It’s a real opportunity, Jess. So do your best.

  As I’d put my things away, I’d tried to tell myself she was right. There were privileges, too. I’d have a cup of tea brought to me in the mornings, a maid would clean my room, and I could have a proper bath when I wanted it. I’d laid out my brush and comb and my few toiletries on the dressing table, but it had still looked very bare. I had put on the gold chain Mam had sent me that had belonged to her mother, but the other ladies’ maids were so much smarter than me.

  After I’d unpacked I had to find out where everything was kept. I needed to get familiar with it before the carriage fetching the family arrived back from the station. It felt strange not to know my way around.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ her ladyship’s maid had said, as I wended my way along the corridor. ‘Are you lost?’

  I had taken a wrong turning!

  ‘It’s all new to me,’ I’d said, making myself smile and trying to appear more confident than I felt.

  ‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ she’d said, more kindly than I’d expected. ‘I’ll show you where the irons and sewing machine are kept.’

  Ah, the ironing and mending. I told myself it was a change from being on my knees sweeping and polishing. I thought of them all at Langdown. Maddie was a good cook; she’d make them some nice sweet each day for their dinner – and they’d have much more time off. They’d have a lot of fun, too. But I wasn’t sorry to be away. I felt sore remembering how cold Sarah had been. She hadn’t even said goodbye! I wondered if Fred would make it up with her. I still found it hard to believe he’d broken with her. They’d been together for so long.

  And then I found myself thinking of Miss P. I didn’t like the way my mind jumped to Miss P whenever I thought of Sarah and Fred. If only Sarah hadn’t been so jealous of Miss P. I couldn’t understand why she had taken against her. It was absurd to think that there could ever be anything between them. She, a young lady. Fred, a mere stable hand. But Sarah was suspicious of anyone who even talked to Fred. It had made things awkward. I was bound to get to know Miss P better now, since I’d be with her so much more in London. I just had to pray that when we returned to Langdown I’d be returning to my old duties, and Sarah and I would get a chance to rebuild our friendship.

  I put down the iron, and lifted up the gown. Miss P would be up from tea soon and I’d need to run her a bath. I’d unpacked for her already. The trunk had been closed when I’d gone to unpack it, but I’d seen from the disarray when I’d lifted up the lid that she’d taken care to remove certain precious possessions. I remembered how protective of her things she’d been the day she’d arrived at Langdown, how she had refused to let me touch anything before she’d removed what she wanted. I’d shown no interest in her possessions then, and I still didn’t. She’d had several new gowns made. We were both relieved we could leave behind Arabella’s pink gown. Neither of us had liked her in it.

  Miss P was already in her room when I return
ed with the gown, pressed and ready. I laid it on the bed and went to close the curtains. ‘Oh, please don’t,’ she said.

  ‘It’s getting dark!’ I protested.

  ‘I like to look out,’ she said. ‘And it’s not dark yet. Everything comes out earlier here, doesn’t it? The leaves and the blossom.’ She sounded sad. I felt sure that she was thinking of Langdown.

  ‘What’s it like at Langdown in the spring?’ She was still gazing out of the window.

  ‘Well, miss, you saw it only this morning,’ I said.

  ‘I could see blossom just starting in the hedgerows,’ she said, more to herself than to me. ‘What’s it like when it’s fully out?’

  I was sorry she had asked. I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, for it was the time of year I liked best at Langdown and I was sad to be missing it.

  ‘In a few weeks’ time the may will be out,’ I said. ‘The hedgerows will look as if they’re covered in white lace. You’ve never seen anything so pretty. The tiny buds on the trees will unfurl into leaves. And the birds will be building their nests…’ I smiled. Langdown was at its most beautiful in the spring.

  ‘I wish I could see it.’ She sounded mournful, not at all like a young lady looking forward to her coming out.

  ‘Then you’d miss your coming out.’

  ‘I’d rather be at Langdown,’ she said.

  ‘But you’ll be back there soon enough,’ I said as cheerily as I could manage. I was surprised that she minded. She hadn’t seemed to care much for Langdown when she was there.

  ‘You see I’ve never seen an English spring,’ she said.

  She was toying with her necklace. She seemed to have something on her mind.

  ‘Baxter,’ she said, turning from the window back to me. ‘I wish you’d call me Polly.’

  ‘Polly?’ I said. ‘Is it a nickname, miss?’ She nodded, sitting down on a corner of the bed but then jumping up and going back to the window as if she couldn’t make up her mind where she wanted to be. Her restlessness made her seem like a wild bird that had found its way in and now couldn’t find its way out again. There was something of the wild about her, I thought. She wasn’t like any of the other young ladies I’d seen at Langdown.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I was always called in India.’

  ‘It’s unusual,’ I said. ‘I mean Penelope is usually shortened to Penny, isn’t it?’ Was I being nosy? But she didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Father gave me the name. He said it suited me better than Penelope. I only tell people I like – and Starshine, of course. Starshine is the horse I ride at Langdown,’ she explained. ‘Starshine was the first to know!’ She smiled, wistfully I thought.

  So – I came after a horse! But then I thought how imperiously she’d talked to me when she first came to Langdown. It seemed we’d come a long way since then.

  ‘And I wish you’d stop calling me “miss”, but I suppose I must put up with that.’

  Yes, you had! I felt thoroughly confused. What had brought on this sudden burst of friendship? I hoped that Sarah would never find out.

  ‘You see, if you’re officially my maid now, I suppose I’ll see you a lot more and it seems odd that you should call me anything else,’ she explained.

  She looked so in earnest that I nodded. ‘Very good, miss – Polly, I’ll try and remember.’

  ‘Thank you – Baxter. And – could you not, could I not – call you Jess?’

  I looked at her nonplussed. How had she found out my first name? I had never told her.

  But I felt I knew where this was leading. Miss P felt alone and friendless here. She’d barely got used to one place when she was uprooted again, and planted somewhere else. But I shook my head. ‘It wouldn’t be proper, miss. Now,’ I said quickly, in case she tried to argue, ‘shall I run you a bath?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said, returning to her perch on the bed.

  I wouldn’t have minded one myself, I thought, as I went to run it for her. It had been a long day and I’d have felt better for a good soak. And even though tonight the family were at home for dinner, they seldom got to bed early. The long hours stretched ahead like a dark tunnel I had to struggle through. How would I ever manage to stay awake! And tomorrow the season began in earnest. This was just the dress rehearsal before the main performance. How was I ever going to cope?

  UPSTAIRS

  I took an immediate fancy to Flo’s mother. She looked just like Flo when she smiled. And she made me feel welcome, which I never did at the houses of Arabella’s friends.

  ‘Flo has told me so much about you,’ she said. She wanted to hear about India, too. She even asked about Father. But her questions never made me feel uncomfortable.

  Arabella seemed eager to flaunt the connection that she had earlier seemed to despise. But she had to flaunt it at a distance. The invitation to tea was for me alone. After tea, when Flo’s mother had kindly left us alone, I told Flo what a relief it was to escape from Arabella’s company. ‘She’s resented me ever since I came,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why.’

  ‘She’s jealous,’ Flo said immediately.

  ‘But why?’ I said. What reason could Arabella have to be jealous of me? She – the eldest daughter of a wealthy lord!

  ‘Oh, Polly, why do you think? Because you’re ten times prettier and a hundred times nicer and more fun. My brother thinks so, too. I can tell.’ She gave me an intent look.

  I felt my cheeks go pink.

  Flo pounced. ‘You like him, too. I knew you would.’

  Flo doted on her brother, and I was flattered that she cared what I thought.

  ‘How could anyone not?’ I laughed. My words seemed to disappoint her. I tried to think of something complimentary I could say about her brother. ‘He has lovely eyes – so gentle,’ I said. He did – they reminded me of Starshine’s. But I couldn’t tell Flo that her brother’s eyes reminded me of a horse!

  Lord Ferdinand Waterlow had come in while we were at tea. I was sure that Flo had arranged it. Ferdy Waterlow was shy and ungainly with long arms and legs that he didn’t seem to know quite what to do with, and cursed with a stammering tongue he could not control. ‘M-m-miss Penelope,’ he had stammered, his face pink. Then he’d tripped over a footstool, and had retreated to a chair where he sat blushing. I had tried to draw him out but I could get hardly a word out of him. But I’d often caught him gazing at me, and I knew that Flo had, too. ‘He is clumsy,’ she’d said when he had stammered an excuse and left us. ‘He stammers because he minds what people think of him. But he has the kindest heart in the world.’

  ‘Can you curtsy now without falling over?’ I said now to turn the conversation away from her brother.

  Flo pulled a face. ‘Just about. But I’m not sure if I’ll manage when I have to curtsy to their majesties. Mother told me about her presentation. She said that she was so nervous that she thought she’d never get her knees to bend, but no one noticed. So I must not be afraid.’ She laughed.

  I was silent. My heart ached for my mother. Aunt was as vigilant as a mother, but made no attempt to try to understand me, and was too bewildered by me to show me any true affection. But Flo. She had a mother who loved her, who she could talk to, who could advise her how to behave in society. Not that I cared, truly cared, what society thought of me. But I had to survive the next few months somehow, I had to pretend… Fred had said it would be hard. And it was.

  ‘Can you – curtsy without wobbling, I mean?’ Flo asked.

  ‘Sometimes,’ I laughed.

  Before I left Flo showed me her presentation gown. ‘You’ll look beautiful,’ I said, admiring the little embroidered flowers that trimmed the cream satin.

  ‘Will you show me yours?’ Flo asked.

  ‘When you come to tea,’ I said. ‘But I warn you Aunt has designs—’ I stopped, feeling that I had said too much.

  ‘On my brother, you mean?’ said Flo. ‘She is not alone. Half the ladies in town want him to marry their daughters. But I am determined that only a girl
I approve of will be allowed to marry Ferdy. He has promised to ask my permission,’ she said. ‘And I will be firm on one point. She must care for him, as much as he does for her.’

  I felt a rush of warm feeling for Flo. ‘So money does not matter?’

  ‘It does a bit,’ she admitted. ‘But more to Mother than to us. But isn’t that beside the point? I don’t expect he’ll meet anyone who is not eligible in that sense.’

  I thought of Fred and I knew then that I would never be able to wholly confide in Flo, sympathetic though she was. She would never understand how I could have feelings for a stable boy. The polite society in which Flo moved was her whole world, and she seemed content enough with it. But the world that contented her felt like a straitjacket to me. I longed to look beyond it. She had no desire to.

  ‘I have two more cousins, neither at all like Arabella,’ I said. ‘I hope that you’ll meet them, too. Clemmie is still a child. She’s sweet. You’d never believe that Arabella could have such a nice sister. Then there’s George, her brother. He’s still at university, but will come down for our coming-out. He is rather wild.’ I told her about our drive and how we’d nearly crashed into the carriage.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Flo. ‘I’ve not met him, but I’ve heard about him. Him and his friend – David Moore.’

  ‘You know him – David, I mean?’

  ‘By sight. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard stories about him. His name has been linked with several ladies – if I can call them that,’ she pursed her lips disapprovingly.

  I remembered how David had promised to teach me to fly, and what he had told me about the suffragettes. But these were subjects I felt I could never share with Flo.

  When the carriage was brought round, Lord Ferdy came to bid me farewell. ‘I h-h-hope I will see you at Lady M-Montjoy’s ball,’ he said. I said I’d be pleased if he did. He went bright red, and Flo smiled at me warmly. I felt as if I were two girls – one leading the decorous life expected of me in society, the other – the real me – I had to try and conceal. Was this how Mother had felt? I felt sure that it was.