A Mother's Shame (11 page)

Martha bustled away to pour the boiling water over the tealeaves she had measured into the brown teapot, then, taking a seat again, she began cautiously, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, pet, so I may as well get it out of the way now as later.’

Maria’s heart began to race as she stared at her mother, who seemed to be trying to choose her words carefully.

‘The thing is . . . I went into the village the other day and I bumped into Lennie Glover’s mother. In a right old tizzy she was. You see, she’d had word that Lennie had been in a fight at the docks just before he boarded his ship to sail. It seems he got drunk and . . .’

‘And?’

‘And . . . some sailors found him slumped in an alleyway a while later. He’d been stabbed through the heart. One of them travelled here to break the news to Mrs Glover. Lennie is dead. I’m so sorry, Maria.’

‘Where have they buried him?’ Maria asked in a choked voice.

Her mother shrugged. ‘I have no idea, pet. Happen the sailors would have seen to it. But you know . . . Lennie was a bad lad. I always feared something like this would happen to him one day. He had a lot of enemies.’

Maria felt as if the room was shifting around her. Deep down she had been certain that soon, Lennie would realise that he loved her and would come back to make an honest woman of her. But he would never be able to do that now, would he? So what was to become of her? She didn’t even know where he had been laid to rest. At that thought, she fell into a kind of faint.

Martha was chafing her hands and her voice seemed to be coming from a long way away . . . but eventually Maria’s head cleared and the room swam back into focus. Her mother pressed a mug of water into her shaking hands and Maria gulped at it greedily just as her father appeared through the door.

‘Ah, so you’re back then.’

He stared at her without warmth, taking in her expensive attire.

‘Doesn’t she look fine, Edward?’ Martha said nervously.

‘Vanity is a sin,’ he stated coldly. ‘And have you handed your wages over to your mother?’

‘Yes, she has,’ Martha told him before Maria had a chance to answer. ‘And right hard she has had to work for it as well.’

‘Hard work never hurt anyone,’ he rapped and Martha had to bite her tongue. This from the man who had never done a real day’s work in his life.

Although Maria had been back home for less than half an hour, she suddenly knew that she must get away to think. Rising, she took Mrs Bradshaw’s cloak from the back of the door and slipped it on.

‘Ah, but you’re never going already, pet?’ Martha chewed on her lip in consternation as she bunched her apron in her hands.

‘I’m afraid I have to this time,’ Maria lied, doing her utmost to keep her voice light. ‘But I shall be able to stay longer next week. Tell Henry I’m sorry I missed him, won’t you?’

The goodbyes were hastily said and then Maria escaped as quickly as she could. Once outside, she paused. There were still over three hours to go until she was due back at Hatter’s Hall, so she headed for the Hayes in Hartshill, hoping to find a quiet corner where she could put her thoughts into some sort of order. It was a good stiff walk that took the best part of half an hour, and when she finally got there she headed for the shelter of the trees and sat down on the frozen ground to stare out at the panoramic view spread before her. This was one of her favourite places, but today it held no pleasure for her even though she could see clear across two whole counties. In the distance, the winding canal sparkled beneath its layer of ice and the barren trees looked as if they had been painted with diamond dust, but she just sat there staring sightlessly ahead. Lennie was dead. She would never see him again and she did not know how she was going to bear it. He had been so young, so handsome, so full of life with plans and dreams – but now none of them would ever come true.

She sat on as the watery sun moved across the sky, numb with grief until eventually she stood up and, shaking out her skirts, set off in the direction of Hatter’s Hall. She had no idea if she was going to be late and just then she didn’t much care, but she arrived with minutes to spare to find Kitty anxiously looking out for her.

‘Eeh, I were right worried yer were goin’ to be late an’ feel the length o’ Mrs Bradshaw’s tongue,’ the young girl told her as she began to lead Maria back along the seemingly endless corridors. ‘She’s a right stickler fer time-keepin’, is the Matron.’

Maria eyed the girl quizzically before asking, ‘Don’t
you
ever get any time off, Kitty?’ She was so pale that she looked as if she had never stepped out into the fresh air at all.

‘Not me, miss,’ Kitty answered. ‘I ain’t never been beyond the gates o’ the Hall in me whole life.’

Despite her own misery, Maria was appalled. ‘Why ever not?’

‘Seems they found me mam layin’ outside the gates an’ fetched ’er in. Then she died shortly after I were born an’ they’ve kept me in ’ere ever since. I’ve been workin’ since I were eight years old. I don’t even know what me mam’s name were or where I come from.’

‘But that’s just awful!’ Maria gasped. ‘Why don’t you tell them you want to leave?’

‘An’ where would I go if I did?’ Kitty grinned at her ruefully and for the first time Maria really looked at her properly. She was small for her age, which Maria judged to be a couple of years younger than herself. She was painfully thin too, but Maria suspected that dressed in different clothes and with her hair loose instead of hidden under a mob cap, she might actually be quite pretty: her eyes were a lovely amber colour and the tiny wisps of hair that had escaped her cap were a deep brunette. Just for a moment the girl had taken her mind off her own problems and now Maria felt ashamed. Poor Kitty. It looked as if the girl would live and die in this wretched place without ever having known any other life at all.

They were climbing the stairs to the wing that housed Miss Isabelle now and Maria made a mental note to speak more kindly to Kitty in future.

‘There y’are then, miss,’ the maid said when she had unlocked the door. ‘I’ll be back up shortly wi’ your suppers.’

‘Thank you, Kitty.’ Maria watched her walk away then hurried to her room to get changed into her house shoes and tidy herself up.

*

‘Ah, so you’re back at last, are you?’ Isabelle snapped, the second Maria set foot into her rooms. ‘It must be nice to be allowed some freedom instead of being caged up here like some animal at a sideshow!’

‘I’m sure it will not be for too much longer, miss,’ Maria replied patiently as she began to tidy away the stack of books that the girl had flung about the room in her absence. It was as she was lifting one particular book that the title caught her eye and she could not prevent herself from glancing at the first page.

‘Why are you looking at that?’ Isabelle asked irritably.

‘It’s
David Copperfield,
miss. A book I’ve long wanted to read.’

‘Read? You can read?’ Isabelle repeated incredulously. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Then prove it to me, girl. Read something aloud!’

When Maria sat down and began the first chapter, the young woman’s mouth gaped wide open. Not only could this chit read, she could read well.

‘I didn’t think that servants were literate,’ she interrupted.

Maria looked back at her with her head held high. ‘Servants are people, miss – flesh and blood, just the same as you, but without the privileges. Perhaps you should remember that!’

For the first time in their acquaintance, Isabelle was rendered speechless. She stared at Maria in amazement.

Then Maria coolly placed the book down and quietly left the room, locking the door securely behind her. Let the spoiled little madam think on that and stew in her own juice for a while, she thought as she wearily made her way to her own room. She was sick and tired of her, and at that moment she didn’t even care if she was dismissed. After all, now that she had lost Lennie, what did she have to look forward to?

Maria did not venture into Isabelle’s room again until Kitty came up with their evening meal. When she carried the tray in, the girl was much more subdued and for once did not instantly spew out a mouthful of abuse. Isabelle could see that Maria had been crying but she made no comment as Maria set the food out on the table.

Normally she would scream that she wasn’t hungry, but tonight she meekly took a seat and after lifting her knife and fork, began to eat the meal that the cook had prepared for her. Maria was secretly pleased, although she had no intention of commenting on the fact. Isabelle had hardly eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive since she had been there, and the girl knew that it could not be good for her or the unborn child she was carrying. No one had actually confirmed that Isabelle was with child, but the signs she was displaying were identical to how Maria herself was feeling – and she was no fool.

‘Will there be anything else, miss?’ she asked as she poured some wine into a cut-glass goblet.

‘No, thank you. You may go and have your own meal now.’

Disguising her shock, Maria turned away. It was the first time that Isabelle had spoken to her as if she was a human being, let alone said
thank you,
so Maria took it as a major step forward. Once back in her own room, she lifted the lid on her dish. Cook had prepared two plump lamb chops and a selection of vegetables for Isabelle, but Maria’s meal consisted of two cold sausages and a dollop of mashed potato. It didn’t really bother her. At least the food here was plentiful, if plain, and tonight she wasn’t hungry anyway.

Crossing to the window she stared sightlessly through the glass to the darkness beyond, and for the first time she was forced to acknowledge what a truly terrible position she was in. Until now she had held firm to the belief that Lennie would come for her like a knight on a white charger and rescue her from shame, but that could never happen now.

Choking back a sob, she composed herself, and after lifting the candle she went back to Isabelle’s room leaving her meal untouched. She was pleased to see that the young woman had at least eaten a portion of her supper tonight and as she loaded the pots back onto the tray, Isabelle said, ‘I think I may get dressed tomorrow.’

‘As you wish, miss,’ Maria answered expressionlessly and she then left the room, placing the trays on the landing table for Kitty to collect. In her present mood it felt as if it was going to be a very long night.

The following morning, Kitty delivered a plateful of bacon, sausages, mushrooms and two fat kidneys for Isabelle’s breakfast. There was a dishful of watery porridge for Maria, which she forced herself to eat once she had seen to the needs of her mistress.

When the meal was over, Isabelle told her, ‘I think I would like to take a bath today. Could you arrange that for me?’

Within minutes of Maria ringing the bell, Kitty and another of the servants were carrying up cans of steaming water and filling up the large bath-tub. At home they each took turns in a tin bath in front of the fire, so this was luxury indeed to Maria. When the bath was ready for her, Maria helped Isabelle to undress and steadied her as she stepped into it. The young woman sank down beneath the hot water, telling Maria, ‘Wash my hair, please.’

Maria obliged, using French soap and jugs of clean hot water. Half an hour later, as Isabelle sat at her dressingtable in a silk negligée, Maria began to gently comb out the tangles in her hair.

‘Have you ever dressed anyone’s hair before?’ Isabelle asked.

Maria shook her head. ‘No, miss, but I’m quick to learn if you’ll tell me how you’d like it.’ She fumbled with the pins as Isabelle gave instructions and sometime later she stood back to study her efforts. Not bad for a first time, even if I do say so myself, she thought to herself. Isabelle’s hair was beautiful, long and thick with a tendency to curl. Maria had swept part of it up onto the top of her head and now, as it dried in the heat from the fire, it looked very becoming falling in tiny ringlets down her back. Isabelle turned her head this way and that in the mirror, then rose without comment and went to her wardrobe where she began to withdraw a number of silk gowns that had Maria’s eyes popping.

‘I think I shall wear this one,’ she said eventually, throwing a blue gown trimmed with lace across the foot of the bed. ‘Help me into my stays and my petticoats now, would you?’

Once dressed, the girl was totally transformed, and Maria could not help but stare at her admiringly. Isabelle was truly beautiful, a fact of which she was all too well aware.

‘Oh well, that got rid of a little time,’ Isabelle said peevishly. ‘Now we just have the rest of another long day to get through.’

Maria made no comment as she went about gathering the damp towels together for Kitty to take down to the laundry.

Once the bath was emptied – a laborious process – and the rooms were tidied, Maria suggested, ‘Would you like me to read to you, miss?’

‘I suppose so. There is nothing else for us to do,’ Isabelle said sulkily.

Maria suppressed a sigh. Since the evening before, Isabelle had been slightly less irritable, but now it looked as if she was going to revert to her normal spoiled self.

‘Which book would you like me to read?’

Isabelle had begun to pace again and now she waved her hand impatiently. ‘Oh any, I suppose. I am not really interested anyway.’

Maria began to peruse the beautiful leather-bound books on the shelf and it was then that Isabelle suddenly paused to ask, ‘Do you know why I have been locked away here, Maria?’

Maria answered carefully. ‘Well, I haven’t been told, miss, but I think I have a good idea.’

Isabelle was stroking her stomach thoughtfully. ‘I am going to have a child,’ she confided. ‘And I just pray daily that I might lose it. You are of the working class – do you not know of a way I may achieve this?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t, miss.’ Maria stared at her steadily as Isabelle stamped her dainty silk-shod foot.

‘Oh,
damn and blast,’
she cursed as she built herself up to yet another tantrum. ‘Why did this have to go and happen to
me?
And why did Papa see fit to lock me away in this hellhole! Surely he could have found a better place for me to go until this bastard is out of me. I hope the monster dies at birth for all the grief it has caused me!’