Heir to Greyladies (12 page)

Joseph shook his head. ‘I’m tired. And I don’t want to be seen. I didn’t tell my parents where I was going and I’d prefer to slip out of the district as quietly as I can.’

‘Makes sense, in case your pa goes on the warpath. Just have a bite to eat, then, sir. You need to eat if you’re to build up your strength.’

‘You’re as bad as Pollins. All right. Fetch me some food and order something for yourself – anything you like.’

Joseph sat back when he was on his own, feeling a sense of wonder and pride. He’d done it, left home. And the way the servants had helped made him feel humbled and warm. How kind they’d been!

But then, servants had always been kind to him, doing extra without complaining. Why his father grumbled so much about them, he’d never understood.

As he got ready for bed, he wondered what Harriet was
doing now and prayed she’d escape without any trouble.

He felt happy at the thought of spending more time with her.

At long last, Harriet saw the hands of the station clock start to approach five. Twenty minutes to go, fifteen. It was still dark, apart from the one lantern that hung over the station entrance. She made another tour of the platform and station. Soon, very soon, she’d be away.

When footsteps sounded outside, she went to face the stationmaster. But it was his wife.

‘Hello, dear! I didn’t expect to see any passengers here at this hour. My husband’s not well, so I’ve come to do the job. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to sell tickets, only clean the station.’ She turned round as a wagon drew up outside.

‘Morning, John.’

‘Morning, Ginny. Your old man still sick?’

‘He is. Getting better each day, though.’

The man who collected the milk from the farms nearby got down and began to roll the churns on their round bases from his wagon onto the platform. He nodded to Harriet but all his attention was on the big metal cans of milk.

The stationmaster’s wife opened up the ticket office. She didn’t show the slightest interest in why Harriet was catching the train, only yawned widely and excused herself. She took the money, handed over a ticket, then dealt with the milk delivery.

Harriet couldn’t help glancing towards the entrance, still worried that someone from Dalton House would come after her, though they’d only just be waking up there.

It wasn’t till the train pulled out of the station that she
could release the last of her anxiety in a long sigh and let her head fall back against the seat. She was alone in the compartment, alone in the world if Mr Joseph wasn’t there at the hotel.

But she’d manage. She had no choice now but to manage. She’d burnt her bridges, and whatever happened, she couldn’t go back.

But it wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t with him.

In the early morning, when only the servants were up and about, Mrs Stuart waited for Harriet to come down, surprised the head housemaid hadn’t started work yet. When there was no sign of her, she asked Amy where her room-mate was.

The girl looked at her in surprise. ‘Isn’t she down already? She got up before me, an’ she didn’t wake me, neither. If Susan hadn’t of shook me awake, I’d still be asleep.’

Mrs Stuart exchanged startled glances with the cook, a woman her own age.

‘She wouldn’t—’ Cook began, then looked at the young maids and didn’t finish the rest of the sentence.

When the two older women were alone, she asked bluntly, ‘Do you think she’s run away?’

Mrs Stuart nodded slowly, regretfully. ‘She might well have done. She was very upset yesterday. I think I’ll just check her room.’

She found Harriet’s half of the wardrobe empty, as were the drawers, except for the books in the bottom one.

Mrs Stuart plumped down on the bed. ‘She’s done it. Oh, dear, the master will be furious.’

She walked slowly down to her own room, wondering
why Harriet hadn’t left her a note. It wasn’t like that girl just to leave without a word.

There was nothing on the desk, but when she went round to the other side of it, she saw the corner of an envelope on the floor, sticking out from underneath the drawers at one side. It must have fallen off.

She picked it up and saw it was addressed to her in Harriet’s elegant handwriting. ‘Oh, dear!’ She opened it and read the three brief lines of apology for leaving so abruptly. ‘I wish you well, my dear,’ she murmured, tears coming into her eyes.

Then something else occurred to her. ‘I wonder …’ Had Harriet’s sudden departure got anything to do with Mr Joseph leaving? No, surely not? She could have sworn there was no budding romance between the two of them, because she’d kept her eye on them. There had been no touching and most of their conversations had been about books. ‘No, surely not.’

Only … they were good friends now, completely at ease with one another. You couldn’t help noticing that. She hadn’t thought too much of it because she and the mistress were the same – good friends as far as their different stations in life allowed.

Feeling rebellious, she decided not to wake the mistress yet to tell her that Harriet had run away. Let Mrs Dalton find out later and let her tell the master after he got back. She would have the best chance of calming her husband’s rage before he turned it on the rest of them.

When Mrs Stuart went down to the kitchen, she found Cook alone. ‘Her things are gone.’

‘I don’t blame her.’

‘No. Nor do I.’

‘He’ll be furious.’

‘Yes.’

Cook chewed her thumb, then said, ‘He was planning to go out shooting this morning. I’ve orders to pack him a snack and have a late breakfast waiting for him when he gets back.’

‘He’ll be in a hurry to set off. We won’t slow him down with servant problems.’

With a nod, they separated and got on with their work. They were doing all they could to give Harriet time to get away, but both women were worried. They knew what their master was like if he felt himself slighted.

Later that morning, Mrs Dalton looked at her housekeeper in dismay. ‘Harriet’s run away? No, she can’t have!’

‘See for yourself, ma’am. She left me this letter, apologising for the inconvenience.’

Mrs Dalton read it in silence, then handed it back. ‘I told my husband he was going too far.’ She groaned. ‘Oh, dear! I’m
not
looking forward to telling him.’

Since her mistress didn’t seem to think of it, Mrs Stuart didn’t suggest that Harriet might have gone to join Mr Joseph. She felt that was probably what had happened, but she’d let her employers work it out for themselves. Or not.

When the master came back from shooting, yelling for his breakfast, Cook had everything ready and the morning room table was set for him.

Doors opened and shut upstairs, then he came running down again. Cook and Mrs Stuart waited in the kitchen, nerves on edge.

A few minutes later the bell started pealing, on and on, as if the person ringing for service was angry.

Amy stared at it in near terror. ‘It’s the master. What’s wrong now? I ent done nothin’ wrong. I ent, Mrs Stuart.’

‘I know.’ She couldn’t send the poor girl off alone to face the master in a rage. ‘I’ll go.’

When she went into the morning room, the master was pacing up and down, face nearly purple with rage. The mistress was sitting at the table looking upset, dabbing at her eyes.

‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier about Harriet leaving, Mrs Stuart?’

‘You went out so early, I didn’t find out till after you’d left, sir.’

‘It’s a disgrace. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a servant just ups and leaves. Well, all I can say is, that damned girl will regret doing this. She had no
right
to leave without my permission.’

Mrs Stuart had to try. ‘She was upset at the thought of being taken back to her stepmother’s and I don’t blame her. If that stepbrother was trying to have his way with her, Harriet was only doing what any decent girl would do and staying away from him.’

Mrs Dalton emerged from her handkerchief. ‘I agree. I
told
you that was the cause, William. Pretty young women can be at risk from a certain sort of man, however virtuous they are, and our duty is to protect our maids, not throw them into the fiery furnace.’

He glared at her. ‘If you can’t say anything helpful, keep quiet.’

‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that!’ His wife stood up
and walked out, her shoes clicking more loudly than usual on the tiled floor of the hall.

Mrs Stuart followed her. The bell rang again before she’d gone into the servants’ quarters and she hesitated. Reluctantly, she turned back.

Mr Dalton glared at her. ‘I haven’t finished talking to you. Where do
you
think Harriet’s gone?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea, sir. She said nothing to anyone and must have left during the night. I don’t think she has any other family apart from the stepmother.’

‘But you must be able to guess where she’d go.’

‘I have no idea whatsoever, sir.’

He glared at her so fiercely, she wondered if he was going to dismiss her next. But she looked him straight in the eye, hoping her scorn would show. She didn’t think the mistress would allow him to dismiss her, anyway. Mrs Dalton could occasionally stand up for herself if driven into a corner.

‘Bring me some fresh tea,’ he said. ‘And some hot food. I think better on a full stomach.’ He picked up a bread roll and tore a piece off it, slathering on butter thickly and cramming it into his mouth.

He eats like a pig when he’s on his own, she thought. And for him, being with a servant was being on his own.

She walked out, not hurrying, hoping she looked calmer than she felt.

Harriet got off the train in Reading, letting the few other passengers overtake her. She felt her stomach churn with anxiety as she walked along the platform.

Would she find Joseph at the hotel? Had she remembered where it was correctly?

It was still quite early, but she hoped to get out of public view as soon as she could. She didn’t think there would be anyone in Reading who would recognise her, but you couldn’t be too careful. Anyway, Mr Joseph always woke early, all the servants knew that, so she doubted he’d mind her arriving before breakfast.

A porter in railway uniform came up to her. ‘Need help with your luggage, miss?’

‘No, thank you.’ She didn’t dare spend even sixpence on such a service until she knew whether she had a new job.

She started to move slowly towards the exit, weighed down by her suitcase and the shabby sacking bag. She put them down for a moment to study the street, relieved when she saw that the hotel she’d remembered from her one and only visit was indeed just across the road.

When she tried to go inside, the commissionaire at the door barred the way and asked her business.

‘I’ve come to join my employer, Mr Dalton.’

‘Your name, miss?’

‘Miss Benson.’

‘Ah, yes. Mr Dalton left word that he was expecting you.’ He smiled at her in a fatherly way. ‘You should really have used the servants’ entrance at the back, but there’s no one around to see, so I’ll let you in this time. You’ll need to speak to the clerk at reception.’ With a click of the fingers, he beckoned to a pageboy, who put her luggage on a trolley.

She went across to the counter and repeated her request to see Joseph.

‘I’ll send someone to see if Mr Dalton is up yet.’ The man looked down his nose at her, then beckoned the same pageboy.

Harriet nearly said Joseph was always up by this time, but stopped herself, because that would sound bad.

The lad returned a couple of minutes later. ‘Mr Dalton says he’ll meet Miss Benson in the dining room in five minutes. He says she can have breakfast with him.’

The man behind the desk pulled an even sourer face at this breach of normal behaviour.

Harriet turned round. ‘What about my luggage?’

‘It’ll be kept for you in the luggage room, miss. You have only to ask for it when you return from breakfast.’

She looked at him doubtfully.

He rolled his eyes briefly towards the ceiling, as if she’d said something utterly stupid. ‘Your luggage will be perfectly safe there, I assure you.’ He gestured to a seat behind a big potted
plant. ‘You may sit over here to wait for your employer.’

Exactly five minutes later, the pageboy came across. ‘Mr Dalton is waiting. It’s this way, miss.’

When Joseph got the message that Harriet had arrived, he beamed at the pageboy and tipped him a whole shilling.

‘I was worried they’d stop her getting away,’ he said to Frank when they were on their own again.

‘Well, she’s here now. My uncle thinks a lot of Harriet. I knew she’d not let you down. Shall I wheel you into the dining room, sir?’

‘Yes, please. Then go and get yourself a good, hearty breakfast in the servants’ area.’

The guests’ dining room was nearly empty at this hour of the morning, except for an elderly man reading a newspaper in one corner. He looked up briefly as they entered, then looked away quickly at the sight of the wheelchair.

Joseph chose a table by the window and watched the doorway eagerly. He saw Harriet stop to look round. Her face lit up when she saw him and he could feel himself beaming too. He beckoned her over.

The pageboy followed her, as if unsure whether to leave her there. ‘Do sit down, Harriet. We’ll have breakfast together and plan what to do next.’ Joseph indicated the chair opposite him and the lad pulled it out.

She hesitated. ‘Are you sure it’s all right for me to join you in here?’

‘It is if I say so. Anyway I’m hungry and I want to know how you got on, so we can eat as we talk.’

The pageboy walked away, turning in the doorway to stare at them.

‘Aren’t you hungry, Harriet?’

‘I am now I’ve got this far, yes. But I still don’t think I should be in here. It’s for the gentry, not for servants.’

‘And for the gentry’s guests.’ If she were dressed in fine clothes, she’d look every inch the lady, Joseph thought. She had a quiet, self-contained way of holding herself that was very attractive. At the moment, however, she looked shabby and nervous. He must buy her some decent clothes … if she’d let him.

Oh, she was here, she was really here!

‘Let’s order breakfast first, then you can tell me every single detail of how you got away.’ He raised one finger and a waiter hovering to one side came across.

By the time she’d finished her tale, they’d both cleared a plate of ham and eggs, and were spreading butter and jam on pieces of toast.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a meal as much,’ he said.

‘You don’t usually eat that much, sir.’

‘I’m not usually free. It adds savour to the food, being free, don’t you think? And it’s partly due to you.’ He took another big bite of toast, making a little murmuring noise of enjoyment.

‘Due to me?’

‘For reminding me that I have valuable things to sell, for telling me how much money I’d need to live simply. I’m so ignorant of normal people’s lives that I hadn’t understood that.’

‘Oh, well, I’m glad I could help.’

When he’d crunched the last corner of toast, Joseph said thoughtfully, ‘Bert was right. We should get further away from my father than this, or he’ll be trying to interfere. I suggest we start by going to Swindon and finding out about your inheritance, then I’ll try to find a little house to rent in a quiet village somewhere.’

After another moment’s thought, he added, ‘And if I like the looks of your lawyer, I’ll ask him to act on my behalf as well, if you don’t mind. I need to sell some of my grandmother’s jewellery and I don’t intend to use the Dalton family lawyer. Aside from the fact that I can’t stand the fellow, he wouldn’t dare do anything to upset my father.’

‘Oughtn’t we to find you a new home first? I’m sure my legacy won’t be anything much.’

‘Then best get it dealt with, so we’re free to go where we choose.’ He grinned. ‘I’m the master now, so you must do as I say, young Harriet.’

She said, ‘Yes, sir,’ mockingly. Joseph had never been the sort to order people around, master or not. That was when she realised she was thinking of him as Joseph now, not Mr Joseph.

Things had changed between them.

He wiped his fingers on his napkin and laid it on the table, and she followed suit. When he pushed his wheelchair back from the table, he clicked his tongue in annoyance as it bumped into a chair from the next table.

‘Could you push me out of here, please, Harriet? It’s a bit difficult to move the chair myself among so many pieces of furniture.’

Once in the lobby, he took over again, wheeling himself towards the desk. ‘We’ll ask about trains to Swindon.’

Harriet stood behind him in a dutiful servant’s pose, hands clasped in front of her, listening to him organise their departure. He seemed different here, more sure of what he was doing, a man rather than a boy, if that wasn’t too fanciful a thought.

Could a person change so quickly? Joseph had done now he’d left his parents’ roof.

She felt guilty for delaying him and hoped it wouldn’t take long to sort out her legacy, which would be something and nothing, perhaps a memento from one of her father’s cousins – though she wouldn’t have thought any of them rich enough to need a lawyer to deal with their legacies. It was puzzling.

They caught a train on the Great Western Line at ten o’clock, getting the large pile of luggage on board with the help of two porters and Frank.

Joseph insisted his servants join him in a first-class compartment, because he didn’t want to sit alone, so they did that.

Frank whispered gleefully to Harriet that they were seeing a bit of life, weren’t they? She nodded, but sat stiffly in her seat, knowing she was out of place here with her shabby clothes.

No one else joined them in the compartment, though one lady glanced in and gave them a disgusted look, as if she could tell at a glance that two of the group were only servants.

Then the train set off and Joseph smiled at her. ‘Don’t look so scared.’

Harriet couldn’t summon up a smile in return. The more she thought about what they were doing and how much there was to sort out, the more she worried.

‘Tell me what’s upsetting you.’

‘Whether your father will come after us.’ She hesitated. ‘After me, especially, since you’re over twenty-one.’

‘That’s why we need to see a lawyer, and if we don’t like this one, we’ll engage another to help you, if needed.’

‘I think you’d be better off without me. I should just … disappear.’

‘Promise me you won’t do that.’

He looked at her so fiercely, she murmured a promise. Heaven help her, she hated the thought of leaving him.

‘Good. I would definitely
not
be better off without you. I can’t run a house without help, and there are so many everyday things of which I’m ignorant. I don’t think Frank could run a house, either.’

Joseph seemed so positive about their future that Harriet pushed her worries aside and turned her attention to the countryside they were passing through. She’d never been so far west before, wondered where they’d all end up. She couldn’t help yawning after a night without sleep, but excitement helped her stay awake.

Swindon station was busy and the narrow street outside it was equally crowded, with carts, carriages, bicycles and people on foot coming and going as if they were all in a tearing hurry. ‘We’ll leave our things in the left-luggage office,’ Joseph decided. ‘Then we can take a cab to your lawyer’s.’

Once again, his money and gentle air of confidence seemed to sweep away all obstacles from their path. Or was it his personal charm and friendly manner, she wondered?

He joked with the cab driver about fitting in three people and a wheelchair, and the man smiled at them benevolently as Frank managed to attach the wheelchair to the luggage rack.

When they arrived at the lawyer’s rooms, there were steps, so Joseph sent Frank inside to find out if Mr Lloyd could see Miss Harriet Benson. He tipped the cab driver handsomely to wait for them.

Frank came back with the lawyer’s clerk, who looked only at Harriet, begging her to come inside. He waited for the wheelchair to be carried up the three steps and Joseph installed in it again, then ushered her inside, letting the others follow.

She was surprised by this.

In the reception area, he turned to Joseph. ‘May I ask who you are, sir?’

‘I’m Harriet’s employer, Joseph Dalton.’

She nodded. ‘I asked him to come with me to see Mr Lloyd.’

Joseph smiled at the clerk, but this time won no smile in return. ‘My manservant will wait out here for us, if that’s all right?’

‘Of course, sir.’

But it was Harriet the clerk was studying, as if he knew something about her. Only … what could it possibly be?

At Dalton House, Joseph’s mother was worried about her son. But she was even more worried about her husband, who seemed prepared to carry out a witch-hunt for their missing maid. The situation was annoying, but honesty compelled her to admit to herself that it hadn’t been her maid’s fault.

‘What good will it do to pursue poor Harriet?’ she asked her husband for the umpteenth time, exasperation sharpening her voice, something she didn’t normally allow because with a husband prone to get into rages if thwarted, it was helpful for one person to stay calm.

‘It’ll teach her not to disobey an employer and a gentleman,’ he snapped.

‘But you don’t want her back. Why not just let her go?’

‘I want her put in her rightful place. Someone needs to do that or she’ll never make a good servant.’

‘You know what will happen to her if you take her back to her stepmother.’

‘I know what
she
says will happen. My dear Sophie, young men don’t attack virtuous young women, they only deal that way with females of a certain type. She’s making up this tale.’

‘Mrs Miller believed her.’

‘Mrs Miller was an admirable housekeeper but she’s getting old now and old people can become credulous and forgetful.’

She couldn’t imagine Doris Miller getting like that. ‘What can you do to Harriet, even if you do bring her back? She’s not a slave, after all.’

‘I’m about to find out about that from my old friend Gypson. As a magistrate, he’ll no doubt be able to advise me.’

She gave up, but when her husband had left the house, she summoned Mrs Stuart and shared her worries.

‘Can’t you stop him, ma’am? That poor girl doesn’t deserve this.’

‘Unfortunately, I can’t get William to listen to me, whatever I say. Don’t you think I’ve tried to make him see reason? He’s always been stubborn, but I’ve never seen him so bullheaded about anything. The only good thing is that it’s taking his mind off Selwyn’s mess … and off Joseph. Do you think my son will be all right? He hasn’t even got Pollins.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, ma’am. He’s nobody’s fool, Mr Joseph isn’t. The master has decided to let him find out for himself what the world’s like and I think he’ll do well. We all like serving him, you know.’

‘I never realised how much.’

‘He’ll find help wherever he goes, I’m sure.’

With that Sophie Dalton had to be content, but she continued to worry about what her husband was doing, because a visit to his friend Gypson had left him looking smug, and he wouldn’t tell her why.

An elegantly dressed man of about forty, with smooth
iron-grey
hair, came into the entrance area of the lawyer’s rooms and smiled at Harriet. ‘Miss Benson?’

‘Yes.’

He came across, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Reginald Lloyd. I’m delighted to meet you at last. Will you come into my private office?’

She stood up. ‘Yes, of course. This is Mr Dalton, my employer. I’d like him to come too, if you don’t mind.’