Langdown Manor Page 3

  ‘Do you like my gown?’ I said. ‘It was Mother’s favourite.’ It was the only reason I had brought it to England. I was glad Baxter had suggested that I wear it. Wearing it made me feel closer to Mother somehow.

  ‘It is very pretty,’ said Aunt at last. ‘But it would be more suitable in summer.’

  ‘In India it is suitable all year round,’ I said trying to draw the conversation back to India. I knew I was being difficult, but I couldn’t help myself. Arabella’s cold stares provoked me. I would never fit in here. Never. And if they found me difficult how did they think I found them? My coming here had been a mistake, and the sooner they realized it the sooner they’d send me home again.

  ‘Tomorrow we will see if any of Arabella’s old gowns will fit you,’ Aunt said.

  I’d sooner go naked.

  ‘But we will of course have new gowns made for you, too,’ she added, seeing my expression.

  Arabella perked up. ‘You promised me a new gown, too, Mother,’ she said.

  Gowns! Gowns! Gowns! Was that all my cousin cared about? I concentrated on my meal. I have a hearty appetite and I was hungry. I ignored the disdainful glances Arabella cast at me. Even if a lady is hungry, she should never show it. But I was very sure I wasn’t a lady, and just as sure I’d never be one.

  DOWNSTAIRS

  ‘She never!’ gasped Sarah. Her big eyes grew huge. ‘Fancy you letting her talk to you like that!’

  ‘What choice did I have?’ I said, shrugging.

  ‘Well I can tell you I’d not want to be a maid in India,’ Sarah said, ‘if that’s how they talk to their servants.’

  ‘And then there are all the diseases.’

  ‘Snakes.’

  ‘Ugh!’

  I was sitting in my favourite room – the maids’ sitting room – my friends curled up on the sofa next to me. There was always a scramble for it. Bits were bursting out of the arms and the back was worn dark and shiny, but it was the only comfortable seat there was. A fire had been lit in the grate and we’d dragged the sofa up close to it. I could hear a voice singing in the scullery. Young Ivy was still there, up to her elbows in soapsuds. She could sing, I thought. I smiled wryly when I thought of the entrance she had made earlier.

  Here we could say what we liked, safe from the watchful eyes and ears of the upper servants. They never came in here. Barrett ruled the servants’ hall and you didn’t dare talk about your betters there. Not that we thought the family upstairs was better than us. Only different.

  I drew up my knees under me. ‘She’s all right, I suppose,’ I said grudgingly. ‘She’s just not used to our ways. Actually, I feel a bit sorry for her.’

  ‘I can’t think why,’ said Sarah. ‘She’s rich, isn’t she? She’ll never have to work, like the rest of us.’

  ‘But she’s no older than me and she’s come all that way to live with a family she doesn’t know.’ My dad would never send me halfway round the world to live with strangers. Sometimes I just don’t understand posh people.

  ‘It’s Miss Arabella I feel sorry for,’ Sarah said, as if I hadn’t spoken.

  ‘You feel sorry for Arabella!’ I looked at her in astonishment. ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘She’s the young lady of the house, isn’t she? She’s coming out this year. Now she’s got to share her big moment with a cousin she doesn’t know. I wouldn’t like that.’

  How did Sarah learn all this?

  ‘She’s a haughty creature, that Miss Arabella,’ said Maisie. ‘Gives you the run around. Will do her good.’

  ‘Miss Clementine is quite different,’ put in Ellen. ‘Lovely manners. Such a sweet child.’

  ‘She’ll change. Arabella was sweet at that age,’ said Maddie. Sarah and I exchanged a glance. We didn’t agree. We all loved little Miss Clemmie. I couldn’t imagine her ever changing.

  But Maddie knew the family better than we did. She’d been here longer than all the rest of us.

  ‘She asked me to put aside some carrots for the horses,’ said Maisie. ‘She told me she’s taking Miss Penelope to the stables tomorrow. Apparently Miss Penelope loves riding.’

  I saw Sarah blush. You only had to say the word ‘stable’ or ‘horse’ to Sarah for her to blush. I knew that it was Fred, one of the stable hands, that she was thinking of. They’d known each other almost since childhood – like Sarah and me – and everyone knew that they were hoping to marry, when they could afford to.

  I smiled looking around at my friends. I wished I didn’t have to attend on Miss Penelope. I’d been much happier when I was just a housemaid. The work was hard, and the hours long, but there wasn’t so much of that bowing and scraping I hated so much. ‘Yes, Miss Penelope. No, Miss Penelope.’ And most of all I hated being called Baxter! But you had to put up with it, Mam had told me. I’d not wanted to go into service, but I’d had no choice. Maybe there were other choices for girls now, but I didn’t know how to use a typewriter and I’d never want to work in a factory. But Miss Penelope had even less choice than I had. She’d been shunted off halfway round the world, and all that she had to look forward to was marriage or being a spinster. I wouldn’t want to change places with her even if I could.

  Robert’s head appeared round the door. ‘Didn’t you hear the bell, Jess? Miss Penelope’s maid is expected upstairs. Time for bye-byes.’

  I groaned and climbed off the sofa. And that was the other thing I didn’t like about my new position. My life at the end of a bellrope.

  ‘So the life of a lady’s maid is not all it’s cracked up to be then?’ said Sarah. I shook my head vigorously.

  ‘But at least there isn’t so much cleaning. Just think of all the extra housework Ellen and me have to do now.’

  ‘I know, it isn’t fair.’ But it wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t asked to do this job. Roll on the day when Miss Penelope came out and had a proper lady’s maid to look after her.

  UPSTAIRS

  ‘Tum tucked in. Tum and behind tucked in, Miss Penelope,’ Madame said.

  I wobbled downwards once again. Rising was even worse. In a few months’ time I’d be doing this in front of the King and Queen. How would I ever manage it in a corset?

  I scowled. It was a stupid way to spend a morning. But I had only myself to blame. Rashly I’d told Aunt my age – nearly eighteen – and she had decided that Arabella and I would come out together. Now I had to polish up all the accomplishments expected of a young lady – how to curtsy and climb in and out of a carriage gracefully. Aunt was to arrange for some dancing lessons for Arabella and me, and I was to practise the piano daily – one hand at a time until I could manage both together.

  I glanced at the window. Outside clouds were gathering – a forerunner of rain to come.

  We had begun the day sorting through my gowns. Out of fashion or too thin for the English climate, Aunt had pronounced. She’d made me climb in and out of gowns that Arabella had grown out of, which Aunt said would do nicely until new gowns could be made for me. Baxter had crawled on hands and knees around my ankles, taking in a tuck here, unpicking a hem there. Arabella and I grew in different directions.

  All my protests were ignored as I was hustled into a pink gown.

  ‘You look lovely,’ said my aunt. Baxter pulled in the fabric at my waist. Her eyes met mine. Her lips were twitching.

  So now I was a figure of fun, too. I’d make sure to tear it the first time I wore it.

  ‘Please pay attention, Miss Penelope. We have a lot of catching up to do.’ I jerked myself back to the present. A despairing note had crept into Madame’s voice.

  ‘Remember what I told you. We are backing out of the royal presence.’ I saw her glance at her watch. Did she find this as tedious as I did? I reversed, wondering how I was to do this without tripping over my train. ‘Hold out your arm, Miss Penelope,’ Madame sighed. ‘The Lord Chamberlain will throw your train over your arm before you walk backwards. Watch and learn, Miss Penelope. Watch and learn.’ It was her favourite mantra. I marched backwards, arm
stuck out. I must look ridiculous. I glanced at Arabella. Her face was like stone. I’d more easily get a smile out of a statue. ‘Much better, Miss Penelope,’ Madame cooed. ‘Perhaps we should stop now, when we are doing so well. Tomorrow we will practise getting in and out of a carriage like a lady.’

  If I hadn’t killed myself first.

  I’d arranged to join Clemmie and her governess in the hall at three for Clemmie to take me to the stables. It was in the house that I felt my worst, I decided. I’d be myself again after a good gallop.

  I was in the hall before the clock struck three, dressed for riding in habit, bowler and veil. I didn’t have to wait long for Clemmie. She clattered downstairs, promptly followed by Miss Dunn, her governess. She wasn’t in riding clothes. I saw her stare at mine. I was wearing my white habit, and I shone like a beacon. Like my gowns it was more suited to the tropics than to this cold country. ‘It’s what we wear to ride in India,’ I told her. I twirled so that the habit flared out, like an apron, which was what it was. ‘It’s a lot safer than an ordinary habit if you fall,’ I explained, lifting it to show her. ‘It won’t get caught on the saddle.’

  ‘Oh, how clever!’ said Clemmie clapping her hands. Miss Dunn had caught sight of a petticoat. She blushed. How unladylike!

  ‘But aren’t you going to ride?’ I said to Clemmie.

  ‘Not today,’ she said, giving Miss Dunn a furious look. She whispered in my ear. ‘She says it’s too cold.’

  ‘Miss Clementine has a weak chest,’ Miss Dunn explained, wrapping a thick scarf around Clemmie’s neck.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, not sure what to say.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Clemmie. ‘They say I’ll grow out of it, but in the meantime they make an awful fuss.’ She glared at Miss Dunn. But even when she glowers Clemmie’s face is so sweet you can’t help smiling.

  The stables were tucked away to the side of the house, beyond a huddle of other outbuildings. The wind whipped my face. Baxter had assured me it was a fine day when she’d pulled back the curtains that morning. In England that seems to mean that it isn’t actually raining.

  Clemmie opened the gate into the yard. Two men were washing their arms in a bucket of soapy water. They threw me a curious look, then touched their caps when they saw who I was with. I looked past them to see a boy leading a horse up to a stall. Her flanks were steaming as if she had been ridden hard. I caught a glimpse of a white star on her forehead. I watched while the boy sponged her down and threw a blanket over her back. He was whistling. The tune was oddly familiar. I tried to remember why, and then I did. Father used to hum it sometimes when he’d thought that Mother wasn’t listening. It used to irritate Mother, but I liked it. It was comforting to hear it now. It made Langdown seem a little less strange.

  ‘Hello, Fred!’ Clemmie shouted. She seized my arm, pulling me along with her.

  ‘Miss Clementine, Miss Penelope!’ expostulated Miss Dunn, lifting her gown in one hand to hasten after us. ‘Remember who you are. A young lady does not shout and she does not run.’

  The lad had straightened up at the sound of Clemmie’s voice. ‘Good afternoon.’ He bent his head politely, pushing back a strand of auburn hair that had fallen into his eyes. His hand was very white for someone who worked outside all day, and there were little freckles on his arm. He looked up and caught me staring. I blushed and looked away.

  ‘I’ve brought my cousin Penelope to see the stables,’ explained Clemmie. ‘Her father hunts tigers in India! Will you find her a horse to ride?’

  ‘A mount for a lady whose father hunts tigers,’ said the boy. He leaned back against the stall and stared appraisingly at me – as if he approved. I felt myself blush again. ‘I have the mount for you, miss,’ he said. ‘Right here. Follow me, miss.’

  He opened the door to the stall he’d been leaning against and I followed him in. ‘This is the horse for you, Miss Penelope,’ he said, slapping a horse on its side. It was the horse I’d seen him lead back into the yard. She whinnied, turning her black-brown head towards me. It was quite dark in the stall, but even in that dim light I could see the milky-white star blazed on her forehead. I fell in love with her at once.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ I murmured, putting out my hand to stroke her nose. She stamped her foot and shook my hand away to nuzzle my palm. I saw Fred smile. ‘What is it?’ I said.

  ‘I can see you like horses,’ he replied. ‘You can always tell. Something about the way you touch them.’

  I smiled back. ‘What’s her name?’ I asked.

  ‘Starshine,’ he said.

  I laughed. ‘Of course.’ Fred was easy to talk to, I thought. I found it hard to remember that he was a servant.

  I ran a hand down the horse’s nose and touched the star. ‘Hello, Starshine, I’m Polly,’ I said. The name slipped out automatically.

  Fred looked perplexed. ‘Polly is a sort of nickname,’ I explained. ‘It’s what my friends call me. Father said Penelope was too grand a name for a tomboy like me. So I became Polly. And you and I,’ I turned back to Starshine, ‘are going to be friends, aren’t we?’ I stroked her mane. ‘Fred, would you saddle her for me, so that I can ride her?’

  ‘What now, miss? I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’ve already taken her out this afternoon.’

  ‘Well, can I ride another horse then?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, miss, I’ve had no instructions from the house that any of you young ladies are to ride this afternoon.’

  ‘Does that matter?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘I’m afraid it does,’ he said.

  I felt like crying with frustration. I’d put on my riding habit for nothing. All day I’d been looking forward to a ride. All Aunt ever did was put obstacles in my way. Yes, you may go to the stables, so long as you only look at the horses. I couldn’t even try appealing to her. She, Uncle and Arabella had gone out for a drive in the carriage and wouldn’t be back until tea. It would be dark by then. I stalked away angrily, but I wasn’t watching where I was going. Halfway across the yard I heard a shout and felt a hand grab my wrist, and pull me backwards. I tried to shake it off, but the grip was too firm.

  ‘Sorry, about that, miss,’ Fred said breathlessly, releasing my wrist. ‘But I had to stop you before you stepped under that horse’s hooves. Didn’t you see her?’ He nodded his head. A few feet away, a young horse was walking round and round, dragging at her halter, fighting a lad for it. ‘That filly is a wild one, you never know where she will put her hooves next,’ he said.

  I felt a bit shaken, but I laughed. ‘Thank you, Fred,’ I said.

  ‘She’s his lordship’s latest purchase,’ Fred said, admiringly. ‘But she needs a bit of handling. Nervous. His lordship hopes to race her at Ascot later this year.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, if you’re all right, miss, that lad needs help.’ He touched his cap and ran up to the boy’s side. I watched as they struggled with the horse. She was putting up quite a fight. I felt I knew how she felt.

  I went to find Clemmie. She was leaning over the edge of a stall, talking to her pony and stroking its nose. Miss Dunn was standing well back, glancing around nervously, as if afraid that a passing horse would kick her. ‘Has Fred found you a horse to ride?’ Clemmie asked. Neither of them had seen my narrow escape.

  ‘He has,’ I said. ‘Her name is Starshine. She’s beautiful. But I can’t take her out today,’ I said crossly, ‘or any other horse.’ I still felt sore. Why hadn’t Aunt thought I might actually want to ride?

  ‘Never mind, we’ll go out tomorrow,’ declared Clemmie. ‘It will be fun, won’t it, riding together. Usually Fred or one of the other stable boys takes me out. Arabella won’t – she doesn’t like horses.’

  That didn’t surprise me. I couldn’t imagine Arabella on a horse. And at least, I thought as we walked back to the house, there was one place at the manor where I could avoid her. That would be bound to please Arabella as much as me. I couldn’t imagine that Arabella and I would ever be friends.


  I glanced back before we turned round the side of the house. A girl in maid’s uniform was opening the gate to the stables. I wondered what she was doing there. The girl must have felt my look because she turned round and stared back. I suddenly had the oddest feeling – that she knew who I was and she’d rather she didn’t. I told myself that I was being ridiculous. She was just curious to see what I was like. And why not? Everyone else was.

  I found it hard to get to sleep that night. The windows rattled, and the rich dinner lay on my stomach. If only I’d been able to ride… I pulled back one of the hangings round the bed and slid to the floor. I padded in my bare feet to the window and slipped behind the curtains. Outside the rain clouds had begun to clear and the moon was as round and ripe as a plum, riding the night sky. The stars seemed to go on for ever. As I stared at them, I imagined Father doing the same. It made me feel closer to him – almost as if he was in the next room rather than thousands of miles away. He used to tell me to look at the stars when he was away from home. The same stars shine over us, wherever we are, he had told me. It used to comfort me. I liked to think of him looking up at the stars, like me. But in India now it would almost be dawn. I turned away from the window and slipped back into bed, burrowing down under the bedclothes. As I lay there I thought about Starshine and the filly who was to be tamed and the boy who loved horses like me. Tomorrow I would see them again.

  DOWNSTAIRS

  ‘I saw her,’ Sarah said. Her voice, coming so unexpectedly in the dark, made me jump. I’d thought she was asleep, not lying awake, counting sheep, unable to sleep, like me.

  ‘Who?’ I said sleepily. I didn’t want to talk. I was trying to get to sleep.

  ‘Why, Miss Penelope, of course.’

  ‘Oh, her,’ I said. I’d spent the afternoon altering Miss Arabella’s gowns to fit Miss Penelope. None of them suited her. The pink one was hideous. I’d found it hard to hide what I thought, as I’d crawled round her feet tacking up hems – the two girls weren’t at all the same shape – Miss Penelope went in where Miss Arabella went out – but I felt sorry for her. I wouldn’t want to be her, even if it did mean I’d never have to work again.