Langdown Manor (4 page)

‘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.

‘Yes, she'd been to the stables. I saw her when I went to see Fred.'

‘Oh?' She hadn't asked for her riding habit to be put out.

‘What do you think of her now?' Sarah said. She sounded if she had something on her mind.

I wasn't sure what to say. I felt as if I was feeling my way along a dark tunnel without a light to guide me. I had my own opinions, but now that I was attending on Miss Penelope I felt uneasy sharing them. I'd already said more than I'd meant to yesterday. Yet Sarah was my best friend. I didn't want to have secrets from her.

‘Don't you have any opinion?' Sarah sounded almost aggrieved.

‘Well, I spent a lot of time today altering gowns to fit her, but we didn't talk much. I don't know that she's happy here though.'

Even saying that felt like a betrayal. I couldn't understand myself. I hadn't broken a confidence. But Miss Penelope had told me that her mother had died and it was that I think made her seem more like a real person to me, not just one of the family I had to wait on. But Sarah was my friend. My first loyalty should be to her. I felt uncomfortable. I didn't know where I belonged any more. I wasn't an upper servant, nor was I strictly simply a lower servant now that I was waiting on Miss Penelope.

Sarah was silent, as if she knew how I felt, and didn't like it.

I tried to change the subject. ‘So how was your day? Did you see Fred?'

‘Yes, I saw Fred – and he told me that he'd found Miss Penelope a horse to ride and he was sure she was a game one. More than I've learned from you!'

‘He shouldn't go gossiping,' I said – more sharply than I'd intended. But hadn't I done just that, yesterday in the maids' sitting room?

‘He's my sweetheart, Jess. He can say what he likes to me!'

I felt the reproof.
But I can't to you, not now.

‘Sarah, I—'

‘You don't talk to me like you did,' Sarah interrupted. ‘You don't even sound like you. You sound … like … like an upper servant.' She made it sound like an insult.

I could hear snores from the bed by the window. Good. Ellen was fast asleep. One less person I could offend then.

‘That's unkind of you, Sarah,' I said. ‘Anyway, I'm not, not really.' I was neither one thing nor the other. It hadn't been my choice.

‘I know, I'm sorry, Jess.'

‘What's bothering you, Sarah?' I might not be able to see her face in the dark, but I knew Sarah too well for her to be able to hide how she felt from me.

‘I can't quite explain, but … I suppose I just didn't like the way Fred spoke about Miss Penelope. And I'll tell you something else, Jess.' Sarah spoke as if it was an effort, as if she'd rather not have to say what she was about to say. As if speaking her fears aloud would make them real. Though what fears she could have I couldn't imagine. But she had them all right; I could hear it in her voice. ‘He called her Polly,' she said in a rush.

‘He must have made a mistake.'

‘So you think that's all it is?' I could hear how desperately she wanted to be reassured.

‘ 'Course, Sarah, what else could it be? Polly. Penelope. They don't even sound the same,' I said. I felt a bit confused. I didn't understand how it mattered. I propped myself up on an elbow and faced the dark outline I could see in the bed next to mine.

‘What if it's not a mistake? What if it's … what if he likes her?' Sarah sounded miserable. So that was what this was all about.

‘Because he couldn't remember her name? Now you're being daft!'

‘No, because of what he said earlier. Oh, I don't know. She's pretty, and she likes horses.' I heard a sob.

‘Sarah! Fred's a stable hand and Miss Penelope is her ladyship's niece. What could there possibly be between them?' I couldn't believe my ears. None of what Sarah was saying made any sense.

Sarah gave another sob. It was too much for me. I hated it when anyone cried, especially if it was my best friend.

I got out of bed and tiptoed over to Sarah's. The floor was icy. A fire was only lit in our bedroom if one of us was sick. I hopped from foot to foot. ‘Can I get in?' I said. Sarah sniffed. I took that as a yes and slipped in beside her.

‘Your toes are cold,' she said. I drew them up under my nightgown. Sarah was still sniffing.

‘Where's your hanky?' I said. I felt like her mother.

‘I don't know,' Sarah said.

‘Have mine then.' I held it out to her. Sarah could never find her handkerchief. Her fingers took it from me.

‘Thanks, Jess,' she said, wiping her eyes.

‘Sarah,' I said. ‘Miss Penelope is lonely here, she's far away from her family, she likes horses and she chatted to one of the boys who looks after them. And that's all. What more could there possibly be between his lordship's niece and a stable hand?' How many times did I have to say it?

‘Nothing – but you can't help your feelings, can you?'

‘I'm sure you're wrong. They've only just met. You read too many romances, Sarah. Fred cares about you. You've known each other ever so long; he'd not throw you over for a girl he's just met. It wouldn't enter his head. But you need to save up to have a home of your own. It'll take time, maybe a long time. I know it's hard. You've just got to be patient a while longer.'

Hard or not I envied her. I even envied her distress. I wanted there to be someone to cry into my pillow about. I wanted to have someone to think about and plan a life with. But who'd want me, with my homely face? I didn't see them queuing up.

‘Thanks, Jess, I feel a lot better.' Sarah handed me back my hanky.

‘Keep it,' I said, pushing it back to her.

‘Night, Jess.'

‘Night, Sarah.' I made a dash for my bed and pulled the bedclothes up to my chin.

As I lay there trying to sleep I thought about what Sarah had told me. About Fred mixing up the names. What if Miss Penelope
was
also known as Polly? I'd feel a bit hurt, even though that was silly. I didn't want to be in her confidence. I didn't want anything to spoil my friendship with Sarah. I was glad Sarah had confided in me. She was my friend – my best friend – not Miss Penelope or whatever she chose to call herself. She belonged upstairs. I was downstairs. There was a line drawn between the two. It was invisible but we all knew it was there. Upstairs and downstairs. No one could cross it. Sarah would feel a lot better if she could just remember that.

I was awake in the morning even before I heard Baxter's knock. I'd drawn back the hangings round my bed and run to the window, pulling aside a curtain to see what the day was like. It wasn't raining, but a thin fog clung to the trees like a shroud. It would soon lift, I told myself, slipping back between the sheets. I told Baxter to lay out my riding habit and hat. She gave me an odd look. ‘What? You're not thinking of riding today, are you? In this fog, miss? You'll lose your way.'

I'd never do anything in this country if I worried about the weather. It was always either too wet or too cold.

‘I'll ask one of the stable hands to take me out,' I said. ‘And Clemmie said she'd ride with me.'

Baxter didn't say anything, but I felt sure that she disapproved. Not that it was her business to approve or disapprove. This afternoon, whatever the weather was like, I would be on the back of my horse, galloping across the park. The thought lifted my spirits. I was even able to smile at Arabella at breakfast. She must have forgotten who I was because she actually smiled back.

I asked Aunt if I might ride. She frowned, looking out of the window. ‘I am not sure it would be advisable in this fog,' she said.

‘But it might lift,' I said stubbornly.

The look Aunt gave me felt like a reproof. ‘Let us see, Penelope.'

‘One of the lads will accompany them,' Uncle said. ‘She will be quite safe.' I could have kissed him. He gave me a wink, then attacked his plate of kedgeree with gusto. Never have I seen anyone eat so much. If horses were Uncle's first love, food was his second.

Clemmie and I arranged to meet at the stables at two. As soon as lunch was over I ran up the stairs two at a time. Baxter helped me put up my hair into a net and adjust my veil. Thin fingers of chilly sunshine were poking through the fog as I made my way to the stable block. I felt as if the sun had come out just for me. For the first time since I'd arrived in England I felt almost happy.

Starshine was already saddled and bridled when I reached the yard. I picked up my habit with one hand and ran up to her. Clemmie had been down to the kitchens and brought me a carrot for her. Starshine took it off my hand in one bite. I rumpled her mane. Fred was helping Clemmie up on to her pony.

‘Good afternoon, miss,' he said, coming up to me next. He touched his cap.

‘Starshine's been looking forward to her ride,' he said. He bent down to adjust the stirrup for me. ‘Up you get, miss.'

I gave him my cane, and he helped me up. I hoicked my right leg over the forked pommel that was attached to the saddle, my left sliding underneath. I reached down for my cane, then watched as Fred climbed up on to his horse. I liked the easy way he swung himself into the saddle. I hadn't ridden astride since I'd sat behind Father when I was little. Aunt would have a fit if I suggested anything so unladylike.

He led us out of the yard at a slow walk, the horses' hooves ringing on stone. I was longing for a gallop. The fog was really lifting now, and I yearned to give Starshine her head.

‘Have you been round the park yet, miss?' Fred said, twisting round in his saddle to me. I shook my head.

‘That's what we'll do then,' he said. ‘It's too big to see it all in one day, but we can make a start. There's no better way to see the park than from the back of a horse.'

He pointed his whip. ‘We'll ride down to the bottom of the drive, then left to the copse and round the back of the hill. Then back to the yard.' He turned back again. ‘Follow me,' he called.

We broke into a gentle trot. As I rose up and down in the saddle I began to feel impatient. At this pace it would be dark before we'd got halfway round the park. I might as well be in the yard, trotting round on the end of a lead.

I urged Starshine forward. ‘Keep close to me, Miss Penelope,' Fred said as I edged ahead.

‘You don't need to worry about me,' I called back. ‘I've been riding since I was a child. I know how to gallop side-saddle.' I felt that he was assessing my horsemanship. I'd show him that he had nothing to worry about.

‘Not today, Miss Penelope. You've never been out on Starshine before. And it wouldn't be safe, not in this weather. Fog can come down fast in these parts.' He was being as fussy as an old woman. I was perfectly safe. I urged Starshine into a canter.

‘Miss Penelope!' I heard Fred's voice call behind me. I took no notice. With another mere touch we were off, galloping across the parkland. For the first time since I'd put foot on English soil I felt free. Starshine's mane was streaming out behind her, her hooves thundering under her. I felt jubilant. This must be what it felt like to fly. My hands were tight on the reins as we swept past the great oak trees, down to the first field, where I headed her round, before turning in a wide loop and round and back.

I could hear hooves galloping after me. I didn't need to look round, I knew who it was. But he couldn't catch up with me. I was too far ahead. I pulled on the reins to bring Starshine to a halt. Fred galloped up to me. I smiled but he didn't smile back.

‘What did you think you were doing?' He was practically shouting. ‘Never do that again.'

How dare he talk to me like that?
I pulled on the rein to turn Starshine's head around, away from him. ‘I can look after myself.'

He leaned across and grabbed the reins. ‘No, you can't.'

I tried to grab them back. But he was too strong for me.

‘I'm taking you back to the yard,' he said. ‘Now. I can trust Starshine, but I can't trust you.'

What
had he said? I tossed my head haughtily.

‘I have to make sure you're safe!' Exasperation burst out of him. ‘What would her ladyship say if anything happened to you?'

‘She'd probably be relieved,' I said.

He stared at me as if I were a spoilt child.

Clemmie trotted up to us. Her eyes were round and scared. ‘What happened?' she cried. ‘Did Starshine bolt?'

I shook my head. ‘We're going back,
he
says.' I jerked my head at Fred. I didn't try to hide my fury. Clemmie looked startled. Her eyes turned from Fred to me. Fred was looking as if he might explode.

In single file we trotted back to the stable yard – Fred in front, Clemmie at the rear, me between them like a prisoner.

When we reached the yard I didn't wait for Fred to help me down. I ignored the hand he held out to me.

‘I can manage on my own,' I said, sliding down Starshine's back.

I stroked Starshine's soft nose. ‘Goodbye,' I said. ‘I'm not sure when I'll be back.' I said it loudly so that Fred would hear. If he did, he made no sign. I shrugged my shoulders. What did I care what he thought anyway? I stalked away, leaving him to help Clemmie down.

In my chamber I saw that a gown had been laid out for me – pressed and freshly ironed – another one of Arabella's despised cast-offs. I looked at it in distaste. I didn't want to wear anything that had been on my cousin's back. I pulled off my hat and habit, shook out my hair and flung myself on the bed face down. Everything felt hateful. I was still lying there when I heard the gong sound. Four o'clock. It was nearly time for tea. Baxter would be up soon to help me dress. I didn't want to see her either. I didn't want to see any of them. I wanted to go home, feel the Indian sun on my face, sit with Father on our balcony and watch the evening sun go down behind the hills. I felt tears begin to trickle down my face. I ignored the knock at the door. I heard Baxter enter, heard her move about the room, picking up discarded clothes, folding them and putting them away. I heard the rustle of her skirt as she came up close to the bed.

‘Are you ill, Miss Penelope?' she asked.

‘Go away,' I muttered into the pillow.

‘Miss Penelope,' she said. ‘I must help you dress now. You can't go down to tea like that. What would her ladyship think?' Her voice was gentle. And it was as if she'd touched a spring inside me – everything that I'd been feeling poured out. I hardly knew what I was saying or how much she could hear – my face was still pressed into the pillow. But somewhere in the tumble of words she must have heard how much I hated living at Langdown, how I missed my father, how they hated me and I them and how I would never fit in here. Never. Ever.

‘Miss Penelope, don't take on so. You'll get used to us in time.' I felt as if I could hear a smile in her voice. Was she laughing at me? I turned my furious face to hers. It must have looked awful, all red and tear-stained, for she looked startled.

‘It can't be easy for you,' she said. She wasn't any older than me, but she sounded like a grown-up and me like a child. Which was how I was behaving. She fetched me a flannel and I wiped my eyes.

‘It takes time to get used to a strange place and new people,' she said. ‘I remember when I first began in service. I was only fourteen. I'm seventeen now. I thought I'd never get used to it. I was a long way from home, too. My family might as well have been in India for the amount I saw of them. You'll see your father again soon. He'll come and visit you, of course he will.'

I shook my head dolefully. ‘No he won't. They'll not let him. They never even talk about him,' I said. ‘Every time I try to talk about home, Aunt stops me. I am sure that she hates India. She hates Father, too. I know she blames him for Mother's death.' I don't know what made me confide in this servant girl. But I had to talk to someone.

‘Maybe she finds it painful to talk about,' said Baxter. ‘Families are funny things. They'll need time to get used to you, too, you know.' I was silent. I didn't agree. They weren't even trying to understand me.

‘How was your ride?' she asked me. ‘You were looking forward to it, weren't you?' I winced and turned my face away. She'd unwittingly touched a sore place. I was wishing that I hadn't lost my temper. I'd found a refuge in the stables and I'd spoilt it.

‘I'll never ride here again,' I said at last.

She looked perplexed.

‘Fred won't want to take me out,' I said. ‘I … I…'

How could I tell her what an idiot I'd been? I flushed.

‘Oh miss, don't you worry about him. You can ride whenever you want. One of the other lads will take you out.'

It was true. I could ride whenever I wanted. But I didn't want anyone else to take me out. I'd felt comfortable with Fred. But I could never tell Baxter that. What would she think – her ladyship's niece more at home with a stable lad than her cousins. But it was true. I'd felt more at ease with Fred than with anyone else at Langdown, except Clemmie, and Clemmie was a child. We shared something special – Fred and me – a love of horses. Now that refuge had been roughly torn away – and by my own two stupid hands. ‘I can't trust you,' he'd said. I sighed and got up and let Baxter help me dress, then she fetched a comb to tease the tangles from my hair. Now I had to face the family. What would Aunt say when she learned how I'd behaved today? My legs felt like jelly as I walked downstairs.