Langdown Manor Read online

  George gave me his arm. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said. Not half as sorry as I was. We made our way slowly up to the house. What would Aunt say when she saw me? Oh why oh why had I ever got into that car?

  Uncle leaned against the mantelpiece and lit a cigar. George and I were sitting on chairs facing him. I felt like a pupil awaiting the schoolmaster’s scolding. My cup of tea was abandoned on a table to my side. I felt my arm throb, but its steady ache helped distract me. Uncle pulled on his cigar. He looked at George. ‘Explain that – toy – outside if you’d be so good.’ George stared past him into the fireplace.

  ‘Dash it, Pater. A chap must cut some sort of a figure at university, you know.’

  ‘So long as that chap can pay for it,’ said Uncle, knocking cigar ash into the grate. Aunt hated Uncle doing this, but now she said nothing. Uncle was so angry, not noisily angry any more, but quiet, which was more frightening.

  ‘Pater, I’ve put down one payment…’

  ‘You weren’t thinking of presenting me with a bill for the remainder, were you, George? You already have a very generous allowance,’ Uncle said.

  ‘Please, Pater, not in front of the girls!’ George pleaded, casting a glance at Arabella and Clemmie. Arabella sat stony-faced. Clemmie was looking as if she’d burst into tears.

  ‘I think they should hear this,’ said Uncle. ‘After all, the more you fritter away the less there’ll be for your sisters’ dowries.’

  But I didn’t need to hear it, I thought. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat. George’s extravagance and my cousins’ dowries had nothing to do with me. Father sent me an allowance each month, but I had no idea what provision if any had been made for my marriage. If I married…

  ‘Father!’ George pleaded again.

  ‘As I said, you have a generous allowance,’ Uncle said calmly. ‘Do you see this house? There is death-watch beetle in one wing and the roof leaks. If you wish to inherit a home rather than a mountain of debt you will need to learn to moderate your spending – and the sooner the better.

  ‘Nor will I tolerate such reckless behaviour,’ Uncle carried on. ‘You could both have been killed. We could all have been killed!’ His voice had begun to rise. A vein bulged in his neck.

  For some time now I had felt Aunt’s eye on me and now she rose. You deal with George and I will deal with Penelope.

  ‘I don’t think Penelope needs to hear this. Come, Penelope.’ I’d anticipated a scolding, but at least it would be in private. I followed her into the morning room. Aunt sat down behind the huge desk. I stood in front of it, hands clasped nervously together. I felt like a servant who has not given satisfaction and is expecting dismissal. There was a big bronze paperweight on the desk. I fixed my eyes on it.

  ‘Sit down,’ Aunt said, gesturing to a chair. I sat.

  ‘Are you all right, Penelope? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’

  Only my shoulder, but if I tell you that you’ll never let me out of the house again.

  ‘I blame George for what happened, but I am disappointed in you, too. You did not tell me the truth, did you? You didn’t have a headache, and I see that you are in your riding habit. I had expected better, Penelope.’

  I made up my mind to apologize. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt.’

  She sighed.

  ‘We haven’t got off to a very good start, have we, Penelope?’

  I kept my eyes on the paperweight.

  ‘Look at me while I am talking, Penelope.’ I forced myself to look up. Her eyes were the colour of the sea on a cold day. ‘I know you miss your home. I fully expected it would be hard for you to adjust.’

  You don’t know how hard.

  ‘I am sure our life here is very different to what you’re used to…’

  Why must she talk as if she’d rescued me from an Indian slum?

  ‘…which is why I have made allowances… But…’

  It was coming – she would say that I was an ungrateful minx and that she was going to send me home. I felt my palms grow sweaty. Once I’d have been overjoyed. I’d have leaped over the desk and kissed her. But not now.

  ‘…if by this behaviour you think that I will send you home, I am afraid I must disappoint you. I would be letting my sister down.’

  What? I jerked my head up and looked her full in the face. What was she talking about? How could she even think such a thing?

  ‘I hope what I tell you now will not hurt you, Penelope, but I think it is important that you know the truth. My parents did not approve of the match your mother made and forbade all contact with your parents. But I wrote to her, against their wishes. I would not abandon my sister.’

  The letters, I thought. The letters Mother had kept hidden in the trunk, and which now lay in a thick bundle locked in a dressing case. ‘And when I learned that it was her wish that you come here, I agreed. I felt I could not go against her dying wish. It was some small amend I could make her.’

  Lies, lies, lies. It was all lies. What had Father written in his letter to my aunt?

  ‘Mother was sick. She didn’t know what she was doing,’ I muttered.

  Aunt looked angry, but she made an effort to control herself. It was almost the only time I’d seen any strong emotion on that impassive face. ‘I cannot help what you think,’ she said at last calmly, ‘but I can assure you that she wanted the best for you. She did not want you to make the same mistake she had.’

  I felt my throat tighten. How could she say such a thing? How could she? ‘Mother and Father loved each other very much,’ I said.

  ‘Love is not always enough,’ Aunt said gently. ‘Your mother left behind the comforts she was used to for a dangerous uncertain life. A life cruelly cut short.’

  But it was the life she had chosen. And I would make my own choices, too.

  ‘Let us start again, Penelope. Soon you will come out into society.’ It felt like a sentence hanging over my head. Aunt was smiling now as if she had handed me a present. I gave the kind of smile I did when I was given a present I didn’t want.

  ‘I can never replace your mother, Penelope. But I want to be your friend,’ she said.

  No, you don’t. You want to squash the life out of me. But I won’t let you. You’ll fail just as your parents did with Mother.

  I turned my eyes from her and looked away, out of the window. The morning room was at the front of the house and I had a clear view of the drive. George’s car was limping up it. Two boys stood behind it, leaning into it to push it along.

  ‘Ah, the car,’ I heard Aunt say. Her gaze had followed mine. ‘Perhaps we should talk about that, too.’

  I wasn’t listening. My eyes were still fixed on the car. A third boy, in the driving seat, turned round to say something to the other two, his hand still on the steering wheel. I felt as if something had hit me hard in the chest. It was Fred.

  ‘Penelope! Did you hear what I was saying?’

  Something about the car? I dragged my eyes away from the window.

  ‘I must ask you to give me your word that you will never go out in the car alone with George again. He’s a good boy, but reckless, and I could never forgive myself if any harm came to you.’ She hesitated. ‘It is perhaps fortunate that the car is to be sold as soon as it has been repaired.’

  I hate her! She has asked for my word, but she still cannot trust me.

  I clenched my hands behind my back. ‘I promise,’ I muttered.

  ‘Let us put all this behind us now, Penelope,’ Aunt said. She stood up and I stood up, too. She proceeded past me into the hall. I’d forgotten that I’d hurt my shoulder, but now I felt it throb. Baxter would run me a bath. Warm water would soothe it. As I made my way to the stairs, I glanced out of the hall window. I could see the wheel marks left by George’s car in the gravel. So, I thought, the car was to be sold. Even elder sons it seemed didn’t always get their own way. If only I had not got into that car. If only I’d gone downstairs a few minutes earlier… But in spite of everything I still had something precious and no
one – not even Aunt – could take it away from me.

  DOWNSTAIRS

  You can’t keep secret what’s going on upstairs. Sometimes I wonder if they realize just how much we know. To them we scarcely exist, it’s like we’re invisible. It’s only when we fail in our duties that they seem to notice us at all. Even then it’s not us they see, it’s the inconvenience we cause them they notice. A spilt cup of tea. Look at the mess you’ve made. The gown I want to wear has a tear in it. How come it wasn’t mended in time? Oh I know I didn’t tell you I wanted to wear it until you came to dress me, but you should just have known.

  Usually it’s Robert who is the first to know what’s going on. He knew all right, but so did we! The young master had taken Miss Penelope out for a drive in his new motor car and nearly collided with his lordship’s carriage. We shouldn’t have been upstairs, but the family being out we’d taken the opportunity to nip up and finish the chores that should have been done earlier – now I’m waiting on Miss P there’s always too much to do. Ellen had burst into the library where Sarah was polishing the floor and told her. Then Sarah had run along to the study where I was dusting to tell me. We crowded together at one of the big windows in the drawing room to get a proper look. The motor car had tipped almost over on to its side, but we knew they were all right when his lordship went over to the motor and helped them out. He looked furious, waving his arms and shouting, but he was too far away for us to hear what he was saying. We were still standing there gawping when the carriage was close enough to the house for us to see the coachman’s face. If we could see them, then they could see us! We fairly leapt downstairs – it’s the eighth deadly sin for a maid to be seen upstairs by the family, unless they’ve asked for us.

  ‘What luck the car didn’t hit the carriage,’ Maddie said as we gathered round the table later. ‘I don’t like to think what might have happened.’ She was gazing at Robert as if he’d been exposed to the most terrible danger. Robert had been riding on the box.

  ‘It very nearly did,’ Robert said. ‘Sid pulled up those horses so tight, I nearly fell off! Would you have minded if I had?’ I heard him murmur to Ivy, who was peeling vegetables by his side.

  ‘It would have broken my heart,’ she said. She winked at me, earning me a scowl from Maddie. Often now I feel as if I am walking on glass. I’m fast becoming no one’s friend. Maddie sees even a friendly wink from Ivy as an insult, and Sarah sees my silence on the topic of Miss P as disloyalty. Not for the first time I found myself wishing that Ivy and Miss P had never come to the manor. Between the pair of them they’d managed to turn our household upside down.

  ‘He’s downright irresponsible, that Mr George,’ said Cook, shaking her head.

  ‘Tsk tsk, Mrs Venning,’ said Mr Barrett. We all jumped – none of us had known he was there. I hate the way Mr B creeps up on us. Robert says he has soft soles made specially for his shoes so we can’t hear him. He says one day he’ll tie bells to them so we’ll always know where he is.

  ‘I can’t help it, Mr Barrett,’ Cook said. ‘I have to say what I think. Mr George has always been like that. A worry to his parents. And goodness knows how much that motor cost.’

  Mr B shook his head. ‘It’s none of our business,’ he said. ‘Robert!’ he barked.

  ‘Yes, Mr Barrett.’ Robert jumped to attention.

  ‘You’re needed upstairs. The family have finished tea.’

  ‘Very good, Mr Barrett!’

  Mr B crept back to his lair, the butler’s pantry. Everyone began to relax again. Robert slouched back in his chair.

  ‘I’d love to ride in that motor.’ Maisie looked dreamy.

  ‘What – be driven by Mr George? You’d end up in the ditch!’ Robert scoffed.

  ‘It’s a lovely colour that motor,’ Ellen said. ‘I’ve never been in a motor car.’

  ‘I’d rather drive it,’ said Ivy.

  ‘With me beside you,’ said Robert, trying to put an arm round her.

  She pushed it away. ‘We’ll ’ave to see, won’t we,’ she said. ‘I ’ad my mind on a gentleman.’

  ‘You don’t want to bother with them.’ Robert leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She giggled. Maddie was pretending she hadn’t noticed, but her face had come out into red blotches as it always did when she was upset. Poor Maddie. I kept my eyes fixed on the range. The stewpot was bubbling away nicely, coming up to the boil – just like the atmosphere in that kitchen.

  It was Cook who boiled over first. ‘Robert!’ she exploded. ‘Let Ivy get on with her work now. And you heard what Mr Barrett said. And you run along now, too, Jess. I want everyone out of the kitchen who hasn’t got a job to do here.’

  ‘Ta ta, all,’ Robert said, pulling on his white gloves and standing up lazily.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Ivy,’ he called back, as he strolled to the door. I could have slapped him. They were heartless, the pair of them. Neither of them thought of poor Maddie’s feelings. Ivy was just enjoying herself, but Maddie’s heart was near breaking. Couldn’t they at least wait till she was out of the room?

  I made up my mind to say something to her. But before I could do that I had my own jobs to do – run Miss P’s bath and press her evening gown. Later I’d brush down her riding habit – I couldn’t think why she’d put that on.

  The chores done I nipped downstairs again. For once I found Ivy where she should be – in the scullery.

  I went up to the sink and ran water into a glass. I was just wondering how best to broach the subject when Ivy said, ‘I expect you think I’m rather fast.’

  I hadn’t expected that. I fumbled for something to say.

  ‘I’d be careful with young Robert,’ I said cautiously. ‘He’s a bit of a lady’s man.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ said Ivy with feeling. ‘Puts that Maddie’s nose out of joint and she takes it out on me. Anyway I have no plans in that direction as you know.’

  ‘Then leave him alone!’ I exclaimed. ‘You encourage him. You know you do!’

  ‘I like an audience, that’s all,’ said Ivy stubbornly. ‘I thought you’d ’ave worked that out by now.’

  I glanced back down the passage. The kitchen door was open and I could see Maddie bent over the table, her back to us, stirring something in a bowl. Cook was absorbed over the range. I hopped up on to the counter by the sink.

  ‘What made you choose service, Ivy?’ I asked.

  ‘Choose?’ she snorted. ‘Does anyone choose service? I needed a roof over my head – fast. Mam married again and my stepfather and I don’t see eye to eye. He’s mean. Can’t think what Mam sees in him.

  ‘Remember the day I came here? When I got here I was told a wagon had been sent to pick me up. Mam wrote later that it turned up but he never told me. But I don’t mean to stay in service. As soon as I’ve enough saved up to rent a room, I’m off out of here.’

  ‘To do what?’ I asked, legs swinging.

  Ivy reached for another pan. ‘Cor, these are murder on my hands. Look at them.’ She held them out to me. Her fingers were red and cracked. ‘I want to go on the stage,’ she said, ‘if anyone will have me, hands like these!’

  ‘The stage!’ I gasped. ‘It’s not respectable.’

  Ivy didn’t seem to have heard me. A dreamy look had come into her eyes. ‘One day it’ll be me up there, and her ladyship and the whole lot of them stuck-up lords and ladies, down below, watching me,’ she said. ‘Me, Jess. Me – Ivy Harte.’ She thumped her chest. Soapy water ran down her front.

  I gave her a disbelieving look. ‘Her ladyship wouldn’t go to one of those places,’ I said.

  ‘ ’Course she would. She does. All them posh people do.’

  I knew nothing about the stage, except that respectable girls didn’t go on it. That’s what I’d been brought up to think. But sometimes when I spoke to Ivy I felt as if the world I knew was tottering. Ivy challenged everyone and everything. It made me feel uncomfortable, and I wanted to feel safe.

  I knew
one thing – Langdown Manor wasn’t big enough for her. It was big enough for me.

  ‘One day half London will be eating out of my hand – the posh half,’ Ivy said.

  She wasn’t lacking in self-belief.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Jess,’ said Ivy, patiently, as if she was talking to a child who was a bit slow. ‘Things are changing for girls, you know. The world’s opening up. Besides, acting and singing is what I’m good at. If I can’t make it on the stage here, I’ll go abroad.’ It felt funny to hear little Ivy talk like that, but she knew a lot about things I didn’t. ‘What about you, Jess?’ she said suddenly, swivelling round to me. ‘What do you want to do? Surely you don’t mean to stay in service all your life?’

  The question took me by surprise. I thought for a moment. What did I want? Same as most girls really. Get married, have a family of my own. But I couldn’t see that happening.

  ‘Do you want to be a proper lady’s maid?’ Ivy said.

  I shook my head vigorously ‘No. Never.’

  ‘You’d get to travel.’

  ‘And be at my mistress’s beck and call every blessed minute of every blessed day! No fear.’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘It’s the worst thing about being in service, isn’t it? All that kowtowing. “Yes, sir, no sir.” Even down here. We all ’ave to know our place, don’t we? That Mr Barrett!’ She snorted.

  I smiled. I knew what she meant.

  ‘Well, what about a job in a factory, or a shop. Or,’ she swivelled round again, ‘you could learn to type, and work as a secretary.’

  ‘What – me?’ I couldn’t see it somehow.

  She shrugged, and turned back to the pans. ‘You should have more faith in yourself, Jess.’

  I slipped down from the counter. I hadn’t come to talk about me. ‘Well, watch out for Robert. Keep him at arm’s length. Find another audience, Ivy. And maybe Maddie will go easier on you.’

  ‘She should find someone else, he’ll never go for her,’ Ivy said. ‘Doesn’t matter what I do.’