by Dilly Court
‘Well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll go upstairs and light the fire. I’ll put the kettle on to boil and we’ll have a nice hot cup of tea, and you can tell me what’s upset you.’
Nettie led the way up to the attic rooms and settled Biddy in a chair with a blanket round her skinny shoulders while she lit the fire and placed the soot-blackened kettle on the trivet. She sat back on her haunches. ‘Now then, Biddy. What’s wrong?’
‘The missis has thrown me out.’ Biddy’s pale eyes filled with tears. ‘She says it’s my fault that Miss Constance didn’t come home last night.’
‘Constance isn’t back yet?’
‘That’s what I said, and it’s my fault.’
‘What nonsense. Your mistress had no right to put the blame on you. Anyway, I doubt if she meant what she said. She was probably worried, but Constance is with Mr Dexter. I’m sure he’ll take care of her.’
‘The missis meant it all right. She threw me bundle at me and told me to go to the workhouse. She says it’s where I belong.’ A fresh bout of sobbing racked Biddy’s small body and Nettie moved to her side, giving her a hug.
‘You will not go to the workhouse. That’s a promise.’ Nettie glanced round at the sound of her father’s door opening. ‘Sorry, Pa. Did we disturb you?’
Robert stood in the doorway, blinking owlishly. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’
Nettie stood up, placing her finger on her lips. ‘Constance went off with Duke yesterday afternoon and hasn’t returned. Lisette seems to blame the child and she’s thrown her out. I found her in the privy, frozen to the marrow and sobbing like baby.’
‘Constance is a flighty piece. She needs to make up her mind who or what she wants. I’ve no patience with her.’ Robert stared at Biddy, frowning thoughtfully. ‘I was going to ask you to take the portrait to the Norwoods for me, but I didn’t want to send you to Kent on your own. However, now you’ve got the child for company I dare say it would be quite proper.’
‘You want me to go to Norwood Hall?’
‘I haven’t got time to go gallivanting around the countryside, and I don’t want to face Jane Norwood again. I’ll pay for your tickets – first class, of course. Duke left the advance in my studio with a note telling me he’s delighted with the progress of the paintings, and naming a sum for their completion. It’s very generous, Nettie. There’s money in reproducing the works of famous artists, and Duke handles all the details, so all I have to do is paint.’
‘I’m glad it makes you happy, Pa.’
‘And you, Nettie. It means that I can give you a better life. I’m not completely selfish.’
Nettie smiled and walked over to plant a kiss on her father’s cheek. ‘You are my pa and I love you.’
‘So you will travel to Kent today? I’d like to think I pay my debts and Maury Norwood is a good chap.’
‘Yes, Pa.’ Nettie held her hand out, smiling persuasively. ‘As you’re so well off you might like to give me some money now. I’ll go out and get some fresh rolls for breakfast.’
Robert put his hand in his pocket and drew out some coins. ‘A large pat of butter would be most welcome, and maybe some marmalade or jam. I’m sure the child could do with feeding up; she’s all skin and bone.’
Biddy looked up from the depths of the blanket. ‘I could go for you, miss.’
‘You’ll stay here in the warm, Biddy. Pa will make a pot of tea and I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
‘Wrap up well,’ Robert said vaguely. ‘It’s cold this morning.’
Nettie seized her cape. ‘You’re getting quite considerate these days, Pa.’ She left her father to take care of Biddy and was halfway down the stairs when she met Byron on the landing.
‘You’re up early,’ she said, smiling. ‘Are you so keen to get to work?’
‘Percy’s been up all night, looking for Constance. I’m going out to get coffee.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘You don’t seem surprised. You knew, didn’t you?’
‘I only know that Duke took her to Gunter’s yesterday afternoon, and she hasn’t returned. But they are legally married, Byron. She has every right to be with him if she so chooses.’
‘Percy doesn’t think so. He went to the gallery last evening and he persuaded Pendleton to give him Duke’s London address. They weren’t there and the servants hadn’t seen Duke since early yesterday morning.’
‘Perhaps they went to a hotel?’ Nettie said slowly. ‘Duke can be very persuasive and Constance isn’t happy living with Lisette.’
‘Percy tried a few of the better hotels, but they either couldn’t or wouldn’t give out any information. The poor fellow is distraught, Nettie.’
‘It’s partly his fault,’ Nettie said stoutly. ‘I know he’s been working hard, but Constance feels neglected.’
‘She’s a spoiled brat. In my opinion Duke’s welcome to her, but Percy doesn’t see it that way.’
‘I am truly sorry for him, Byron, but I have other things to worry about. Pa wants me to go to Kent today and deliver Jane Norwood’s portrait.’
‘You shouldn’t travel on your own. Anything might happen.’
‘I’ll have young Biddy with me. Pa seems to think that makes it quite respectable.’
‘I’d come with you, but I have to go to work.’
‘I wouldn’t expect it of you. Go and get your coffee. I’ll see you this evening when I return from Kent. Don’t worry about Constance. I expect she’ll turn up in her own good time.’
The journey to Kent was uneventful and Biddy seemed to have forgotten everything other than the excitement of travelling by train. When they arrived at their destination Nettie hired a pony and trap to take them to Norwood Hall. Seated on the box with Biddy beside her, Nettie took the reins and, feeling confident, she encouraged the horse to a brisk trot. The sun was shining, but it was bitterly cold and she was glad of her new fur-trimmed cape and hat. Biddy’s eyes were sparkling and her cheeks had lost their normal pallor and were quite rosy. She cried out with excitement at each new sight, admitting freely that she had never seen a sheep or a cow before, and she might have landed in foreign parts, for all she knew of the countryside and farming. Biddy’s childish enjoyment was catching and, despite worries about Constance, Nettie was beginning to feel quite light-hearted as she drove past the brewery with its distinctive smell of hops and roasting barley. When Norwood Hall came into view she forgot the exhausting business of hop picking, and remembered only the camaraderie of the hoppers and the evenings spent around the campfire. The sound of the river brought back mixed memories, and when she saw Rufus Norwood striding towards them, her heart began to beat faster and she felt the colour rush to her cheeks. This reaction was unexpected and she felt suddenly shy and at a loss for words, but he was smiling as he approached and he caught hold of the harness and brought the pony to a halt outside the front entrance.
‘This is a pleasant surprise, Nettie. I wanted to thank you properly for tending to my wounds, but I had no way of knowing your address.’
‘There was no need,’ Nettie said shyly. ‘It was partly my fault anyway. If I hadn’t gone into the river like that you wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘It was an accident, and the boy was dealt with by his father. I don’t think he’ll play with a shotgun again. But I did want to see you and I was hoping that Percy might contact me so that I could find out where you were living.’ He swung Biddy from the driver’s seat and placed her on the ground. ‘Who is this young lady? We haven’t met before.’
‘I’m Biddy, sir.’ Biddy bobbed a clumsy curtsey, almost toppling over in her attempt to be graceful.
‘How do you do, Biddy?’ Rufus bowed. ‘I’m Rufus Norwood. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
Biddy blushed and giggled, staring down at her feet in total confusion.
Rufus helped Nettie to alight, calling out to a groom who had emerged from the stables and came at a run to hold the reins.
‘I’ve brought your mother’s portrait.’ Nettie retrieved the package. ‘It’s almost dry, but my father said to handle it carefully, in case some of the thicker layers are still a little sticky.’
‘My parents will be delighted. Your father is very talented and I could never understand why you needed to work in the hop garden, but I didn’t like to ask questions.’
‘I’m hungry, mister,’ Biddy said plaintively. ‘Are you going to give us something to eat?’
‘Biddy, that’s rude!’ Nettie frowned at her. ‘You wait to be invited in and you don’t ask questions like that.’
‘It’s quite all right,’ Rufus said, laughing. ‘A girl after my own heart. Why should we not speak our minds?’
‘Sorry, sir. I forgot me manners.’ Biddy shot him a sideways glance, grinning as if she had found a soulmate.
‘I’m sure we can find some suitable refreshment for you both.’ Rufus ushered them up the steps and into the entrance hall. He summoned a maid to take Nettie’s cape, but Biddy refused to give up her shawl, even though Nettie assured her that it would be returned when it was time to leave.
‘I know what happens,’ Biddy said in a low voice. ‘They take people’s duds and they don’t get them back. I’ll bet they end up in the pawn shop.’ She glanced at the heavy, ornately carved furniture, wall hangings and pictures. ‘That’s how the toffs afford to live like this.’
Nettie glanced at Rufus, hoping that he was out of earshot, but she could tell by the amused look on his face that he had heard every word, and his lips quivered.
‘Don’t worry, Biddy,’ he said solemnly. ‘Your shawl is quite safe with Dora. She’ll keep it until you’re ready to leave.’
With the greatest reluctance Biddy peeled the knitted shawl from her shoulders. ‘You’d better give it back,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘It’s the only one I got, and it’s blooming taters outside.’
‘Yes, miss.’ Dora bobbed a curtsey.
Nettie could hear the maid giggling as she sped towards the servants’ quarters.
‘That’s settled then,’ Rufus said hastily. ‘I think my mother is in the morning parlour and she will want to see her portrait.’ He turned to a manservant, who was hovering in the background. ‘Send someone to the brewery to fetch my father, Mason. Ask him to come home immediately. There’s a pleasant surprise awaiting him.’
‘Yes, Mr Rufus. I’ll go myself.’
‘If you tell him that Miss Carroll has come all the way from London to see him, that should spur him on.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Mason bowed and backed away.
‘And on your way out, please ask Cook to send some light refreshments to the morning parlour.’
Mason’s answer was lost as he hurried off to pass on the message, and Rufus crossed the wide expanse of hallway to open a door on the far side.
‘Mama, you have a surprise visitor.’
Nettie grasped the painting with both hands. Her last meeting with Mrs Norwood had been anything but friendly, and she had hoped that Mr Norwood might have been there to make things go smoothly. She glanced at Rufus and he gave her an encouraging smile.
Jane Norwood was seated at a table, frowning over an accounts book. She looked up and her smile froze. ‘What is she doing here?’
Nettie stepped forward and laid the wrapped canvas on the table. ‘My father couldn’t come in person, ma’am, but he sent his best regards and hopes that the portrait meets your approval.’
Jane’s expression changed subtly. She seized the package and began tearing off the paper.
‘Perhaps we ought to wait for my father to arrive before you open it?’ Rufus said cautiously.
‘It’s my portrait,’ Jane said stonily. ‘I will be the judge of whether it’s satisfactory, or not, as the case may be.’ She ripped off the last shred of paper and stepped back to examine the painting.
Nettie held her breath. It was probably her father’s best work to date, and if it was not exactly flattering, it was a remarkable likeness. He had captured the very essence of the sitter’s personality, omitting the bad-tempered traits that marred her expression.
Rufus went to stand beside his mother, as he studied the painting. ‘I think it’s excellent.’
‘It makes me look older,’ Jane said crossly. ‘I don’t like it.’
Biddy stepped forward before Nettie could stop her. ‘I think you would be very pretty if you smiled more, missis.’
Jane stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Biddy, missis.’
‘Biddy – you must have another name. Are you related to Miss Carroll?’
‘They called me Biddy Tuesday at the orphanage. It was a Tuesday when they found me in a basket, left on their front step.’
‘Good heavens!’ Jane stared at her aghast. ‘How old are you, Biddy?’
‘I think I’m nine or thereabouts.’
Jane sat down suddenly, staring at Biddy, the painting apparently forgotten. She shot an accusing look at Nettie. ‘Why is the child with you? She’s too young to be a servant.’
‘That’s not fair, missis,’ Biddy said boldly. ‘I ain’t her servant. I come to look after her on the journey from London. I used to look after Mrs Lorimer while her old man was at work, but they moved away. Then the condesa took me on, but there’s no pleasing some people, and she threw me out and Nettie found me in the privy. I might have frozen to death but for her.’
Jane turned to Nettie. ‘Is this true?’
‘Yes, Mrs Norwood. Biddy has been ill-used by almost all those who were supposed to have her welfare at heart.’
‘I had a daughter once,’ Jane said, sighing. ‘She only lived for a few hours, but I still miss her.
‘Don’t think about it, Mama.’ Rufus laid his hand on his mother’s shoulder. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘She would have been twenty now, my little Elizabeth.’ Jane took a deep breath and rose to her feet. ‘Are you responsible for this child, Miss Carroll?’
‘I suppose I am, in a way. At least I hope I can do something for her.’
‘I’m starving, missis,’ Biddy said plaintively. ‘A slice of bread would go down well, and butter if you can afford it.’
‘I’ve sent for refreshments to be brought here, Mama.’
‘A cup of tea and a slice of cake are not suitable for a growing child, Rufus.’ Jane seized Biddy by the hand. ‘You will come with me and I will order cook to prepare something nourishing.’ She looked Biddy up and down. ‘As for those garments, I don’t know where they came from, but I’ve been collecting clothes from my well-off acquaintances for the missionaries to take to Africa. I’m sure we can do much better than those thin rags.’
‘Here, you can’t steal me duds,’ Biddy said suspiciously. ‘I thought it was queer when that posh maid took me shawl. I want it back, missis. I didn’t come here to give me clothes to people in Africa, wherever that is.’
Jane rolled her eyes. ‘Ignorant as well as neglected. I am not taking your clothes for the missionary barrel, you silly girl. I am going to find you something much warmer and more suitable to a child of your age. Come with me. We’ll get you fed first and then we’ll sort out something for you to wear.’
‘The portrait, Mama?’ Rufus said hastily.
‘Yes, very nice. I’m sure your father will like it.’ Jane dismissed it with a wave of her hand. She paused in the doorway. ‘You have no objections to me taking charge of the child, have you?’
‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’ Nettie looked to Rufus for help. ‘What are your intentions, Mrs Norwood?’
‘I haven’t thought it through, but this girl is not old enough to go into service, and she’s so underfed it’s a disgrace. I might keep her here with me until she is bigger and stronger. I’ll send her to the village school, or I’ll arrange for someone to give her lessons here. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Biddy?’
Biddy gazed up at her, shrugging. ‘I dunno, missis. I think better on a full belly.�
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‘That’s easy to fix.’ Jane shooed her out of the room. ‘Your father can deal with the painting, Rufus. I have better things to do.’ She held the door open. ‘Talk of the devil and he appears. You must sort out the fee for the portrait, Maury.’ She swept past her husband, leaving him staring after her.
‘Where is your mother going with that child?’
‘It’s a long story, Pa,’ Rufus said, shaking his head. ‘I’m not sure, but it looks as if we have an addition to the household.’
Maurice shrugged. ‘Oh, well, if it keeps your mother happy I won’t complain. I was on my way home and I met Mason halfway. He told me that you were here, Nettie. I’m so pleased to see you.’
‘Pa would have come in person, Mr Norwood, but he’s very busy. He sent his best regards and he hopes you like the portrait.’
Rufus held the painting up for his father’s inspection and Maurice peered at it in silence. Nettie bit her lip as she waited for him to speak. He turned to her at last and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes.
‘It’s wonderful, Nettie. Your father has done Jane justice. He’s captured everything I love about my wife.’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. ‘I feel quite emotional.’
‘Mama thinks it makes her look old,’ Rufus said, chuckling.
‘Your mother will never look old to me, son. I still see her as the pretty young girl who captured my heart more than twenty-five years ago. She is the stalwart spirit who kept me going through the hard times, and without her I would not have succeeded in business.’
Nettie looked away. His words had touched her deeply and she knew she would look at Mrs Norwood with completely different eyes. To inspire such devotion she must be a remarkable woman, and the shrewish exterior she presented to the world at large was merely a façade. Nettie knew she had judged Jane Norwood harshly and she was ashamed of taking her at face value. Perhaps Pa was a better judge of character when he saw a person through the eyes of an artist. Nettie looked again at the portrait, endeavouring to see it from Mr Norwood’s point of view, and failing miserably. Maybe the old adage was true – love is blind.
Rufus was at her side and she realised that he had spoken to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I was far away.’