A Carriage for the Midwife (17 page)

‘Polly? It
is
you! Oh, Poll!’

‘Sukey!’

The tray was dropped and clattered down the stairs as they embraced.

‘’Ee looks that fine an’ tall, Sukey, Oi hardly knows ’ee!’

‘So do you, Poll, as neat an’ pretty as ever I saw!’

‘Aye, ’tis a good life here, Sukey, Oi tells ’ee!’ giggled her sister. ‘Oi never in my life had such merry times, an’ the best o’ it is –’ she took Susan’s hand and put her lips close to her ear – ‘young Master Osmond ha’ eyes fur none but Oi!’

Susan’s smile faded a little, knowing what she had heard of the elder Calthorpe brother’s ways with maidservants.

‘Take care, Poll. Don’t let him do what he shouldn’t,’ she said anxiously.

‘Not Oi, Sukey, fur Oi likes to tease un!’ laughed the young coquette. ‘Though to tell ’ee truth, Oi loves un dear!’

‘Don’t go an’ tell him that, Poll.’

‘’Course Oi won’t. Tell me, Sukey, ha’ ye got a sweetheart?’

‘No, an’ I don’t want one, neither,’ replied Susan firmly, thinking Polly as giddy as ever and too pretty for her own good.

‘That ain’t what Oi heared, Sukey,’ returned her sister slyly. ‘Master Edward ha’ bin in his ma’s bad books ’cos o’ chasin’ ’ee all over Beversley. Be that true or not?’

‘Never say it, Poll! Mr Edward be good an’ kind, but that’s all that he . . .’ She faltered, and Polly gave a shout of laughter.

‘Sukey, ’ee be blushin’!’

‘Don’t be daft, Poll.’

‘I ain’t daft, ’ee be blushin’ even more. Lord bless us, Sukey, don’t ’ee wish we was upstairs ‘long o’ them fine folks, dancin’ the night away?’

‘That I do not, Poll. I’m happy just to be wi’ my little sister again. We’ll sleep side by side tonight, like when we were children.’

Polly returned her sister’s loving look with a quick warning.

‘Oh, don’t speak o’ them old times, Sukey. The maids here don’t know about –’ she lowered her voice to a whisper – ‘They don’t know Oi be daughter to her as went fur the ol’ rector in church, an’ got sent to the workhouse. Oi told ’em Oi be an orphan. Come on down, Sukey, we got a fine table spread, an’ a fiddler to play fur dancin’!’

With arms around each other’s waists they went down to join the company in the thickening air of the servants’ hall where the door was still open to the warm blue dusk, and the evening star could be seen above the tops of the beeches.

Sophia’s fingers flew over the keys, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that Mrs Bennett and her daughter had sat unnoticed for half an hour on small, hard chairs, and their smiles were becoming rather strained. While whirling feet passed and repassed them on the parquet floor, and muslins and silks revolved around red and blue uniforms, not a glance was spared for Marianne, whose shoulders drooped as she sat with fading hopes; Sophia’s heart ached for her, especially when a scrap of conversation drifted up to her ears from a nearby group of young people chattering between dances.

‘’Pon my word, there are some fine rosy-cheeked country girls here tonight!’ observed a flushed army officer, mopping his brow after a particularly energetic gallop with Caroline Calthorpe, who answered with a kind of apology.

‘You must understand, sir, that our mother is very kind to the village girls, and she has invited whoever is halfway pwesentable in Beversley. So I must ask you to be kind too, and go and dance with that poor girl sitting over there with her mother. They have been vainly twying to catch the eye of any passing gentleman for the past hour – though I must warn you that when she stands up her feet are monstwous bwoad, so be on your guard, sir!’

The officer glanced briefly in Marianne’s direction, and joined in Caroline’s girlish laugh as she lowered her lashes prettily. Sophia winced at such unkindness, and trusted that Marianne would never hear of it.

She noticed that Osmond was looking frankly bored and Edward was talking with Henry and a determinedly effusive Selina. He was frowning, and Sophia wondered if he had overheard his younger sister’s remark.

Suddenly he left the group and went over to pay his respects to Mrs Smart and her two sons and one daughter who had walked up from the parsonage in Lower Beversley, having no conveyance. The parson, as usual, had more pressing demands upon his time; besides which he had no decent frock coat to wear to a ball.

As Sophia spread out the music of ‘Sir Roger de Coverley’ in readiness for the next dance, she saw Edward bow to Miss Lizzie Smart and hold out his hand in invitation; the young lady at once accepted and joined him in the line-up of dancers.

And then to Sophia’s great satisfaction Mr Simon Smart strolled over to the Bennett ladies, and bowed to Marianne. The girl raised tear-filled eyes to meet the honest features of the parson’s eldest son, a well-built young man apprenticed to a wheelwright in Belhampton and none the worse for an austere upbringing.

It warmed Sophia’s heart to see Marianne’s wretchedness turned to joy as Mr Simon led her into the set. And it did not end there, for they both danced together again and again, and Mr Simon escorted both mother and daughter in to supper, while his brother Andrew took care of Mrs Smart and their sister. The young couple seemed to be dancing on clouds; the awkward, large-footed Miss Marianne was transformed into a radiant beauty, and Sophia wondered whether one or two of the uniformed gallants might be wishing they had seen this charmer first!

Below stairs the temperature was rising. The groaning table had been plundered, and now it was time to set the benches against the wall and for the fiddler to step forward. Candlelight gleamed on the rows of pewter vessels and copper pans as Martin stood up and addressed both Bever House staff and the visitors.

‘We now be ready to begin the dancin’, and I’ve got a new one fur ye tonight. I’ll sing the words while ye tread the measure in the style o’ our country dances. Up on yer feet, then, fur ‘The Red and the Blue”!’

The fiddler played the opening bars and Polly was seized round the waist by a footman, who had been hovering near, waiting for his chance to claim her. Martin began to sing in a full-throated baritone.

The refrain was soon picked up and sung with gusto:

The lively music and patriotic sentiments had an immediate appeal, and sets of eight were quickly formed. Visiting lady’s maids and coachmen were drawn in to gallop up and down the clapping rows while the fiddler’s arm flew in and out.

The second verse was equally well received.

It was an instant triumph for Martin: a new country dance was born. Couples skipped down the lines, circled round and re-formed the sets; clod-hopping stable-boys and burly coachmen flung their arms round the waists of the female servants in a bobbing of blue and white gowns and aprons. Susan gave a sharp cry of alarm when she was dragged into the set by a grinning red-haired stable-lad, who bellowed the refrain in her ear.

The open door beckoned, and the quicker wits soon realised that if they went out through it into the yard, they could re-enter through the kitchen door and return to the hall along a narrow passage, past the butler’s pantry, still room and agent’s office. Not only did this diversion allow a welcome breath of air under the star-lit sky, but it gave them a chance to carry out the advice given in the refrain; the men were not slow to take the moment when it came, and the air was filled with delighted shrieks from lips whose sweetness was found mightily pleasing. Blushing faces reappeared in the hall to continue dancing, while others slipped out; The Red and the Blue’ seemed set on course for the night.

Upstairs the musicians were at supper, but Miss Glover remained at the piano; only a handful of couples were dancing, among them the indefatigable Mr Smart and Miss Bennett. Windows were flung open to let in the cooler air, and a sound of merrymaking floated in on it, an insistent rhythm of voices, feet and fiddle in marked contrast to the music upstairs.

‘What good cheer they are having down there, dancing out of doors!’ exclaimed Osmond, and, intrigued by the exuberance of the sound, he went to the landing and along the passage to the backstairs, followed by a sizeable number of the younger people, oblivious to Mrs Calthorpe’s dismay. Soon they were pouring down the stairs to the servants’ hall, where Osmond stood in the doorway, his light blue eyes roving over the stamping couples until he saw the girl he sought.

‘All right, fellow, ’tis time to give way to a better man,’ he said, dismissing the footman and seizing Polly in his arms.

‘Come here, little Poll, and teach me the words of this song that has so fired you all – and I shall teach you something better, by God!’

Polly’s eyes sparkled as he interwove his steps expertly with hers, and she raised her clear young voice in the refrain.

‘Ah, you’re the sweetest, softest little creature, my own Polly,’ murmured Osmond, nuzzling his mouth against her neck.

But Polly was by no means ready to succumb. Her sense of power in their master-and-maid relation was too intoxicating to throw away lightly. She was happy to go on playing a waiting game, to keep him pleading and adoring. Linking arms and smiling as she sang, young Polly Lucket skipped down the line of dance with her gentleman admirer, the happiest girl in Hampshire.

The stream of young people from upstairs joined hands with their partners and formed new sets for ‘The Red and the Blue’, taking full advantage of the diversion through the stable-yard. Osmond soon led Polly along this route to claim the sweetness of her lips, but she made sure that they always followed the others back to the hall.

Susan was having difficulty keeping her partner at arm’s length; she had steeled herself to stay calm and enter into the spirit of the occasion, but when he led her out into the yard with a crowd of other flushed and giggling pairs, his drink-laden breath assailed her nostrils, awakening hateful memories.

‘Oi see’d ’ee as soon as ’ee come in,’ he told her, grinning. ‘Sez Oi, it ain’t only the pretty uns who untie their gowns an’ let us feel ’em, all nice an’ warm—’

He pressed himself hard against her, and she turned her face away. At first she thought it was his hand boldly exploring low down on her belly, but then realised that both his arms were around her waist and that it was his hardened male member nudging her through layers of fustian and cotton.

An uncontrollable terror seized her, a choking panic that seemed to rise up in her throat like the smell of crushed bracken fronds mingled with the stink of a man. She remembered the hoarse grunts, the stickiness between her thighs: she was once again a fourteen-year-old girl kicking out and clawing, desperate to get away from this pawing oaf.

‘No, no,
stop it
, Oi won’t have ’ee, Oi will
not
, Oi tells ’ee!’ she protested, her voice rising to a scream.

‘Hey, what the – aah! stop it, yer mad besom –
aah
!’ roared the lad, ducking her blows to the derisive cheers of other couples in the yard. Thrusting her aside, he then received another and harder blow: a box on the ears from Mr Edward Calthorpe, who had suddenly appeared in the yard.

‘Be off with you, lout. Take your hands off the maid, or you’ll answer to me for it!’

The lad took to his heels, leaving Susan to face her rescuer and ready to die of shame at being found in such a situation, flushed and dishevelled. Had she but known, her appearance enchanted him, and he had to restrain himself from seizing her in his arms on the spot.

‘My own Susan – how came you to be here in such company?’

She burst into tears. ‘Mr Calthorpe – oh, Mr Calthorpe!’

All her rage and fear dissolved, together with the loathsome memories that had given rise to her wild words. She turned away from Edward, putting her hands up to her face. It was too much for him to resist, and while the dancers skipped past them with curious looks, she found herself enfolded in his arms and listening to his gentle, soothing words.

‘Sweet Susan, do not cry. The fellow has gone.’

Held against his heart, her body ceased trembling; she drew a couple of deep breaths to steady herself.

‘You are safe now, Susan. I beg your pardon for the treatment you have received from one of my father’s own outdoor servants. He will be whipped for it.’

‘Don’t be too hard on him, f’r he be no different from most of ’em, Mr Edward,’ she muttered, knowing full well that many of the maids would be more compliant. ‘It’s just that I can’t bear to – to – oh!’

There was a further gush of helpless tears, and he took a fine white handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I would not have you troubled for the world, Susan,’ he said, thinking how meagre were his words to convey his longing to shield her from all harm.

She wiped her eyes, and recollected where they were. ‘I must go back indoors, Mr Calthorpe. My sister’ll be looking f’r me.’