Polly's Story (5 page)
From
Rules for the Manners of Servants in Good Families,
1901
Still not saying a word, Harriet put a finger to her lips as some sort of signal to me and then darted forward to gather up the pieces of porcelain. By the time Lady Vye had entered the room, she had turned and was hurrying back to meet her, holding out the evidence of my crime. I followed, frightened half to death to think what might happen next.
‘I am so sorry,
belle-mère
,’ Harriet said (and she looked it, too). ‘As I went past the desk, my sleeve caught one of your little figures and it fell on the floor. Please forgive me! I know how much you love them.’
She was taking the blame for my wrongdoing. It was such a kind, brave thing to do that, for a moment, I was speechless. But I couldn’t stand by and let someone else pay for my mistake. ‘M’lady, I’m sorry but - ’ I began, determined to tell the truth.
‘When was your opinion called for?’ Lady Vye interrupted, staring at me in astonishment. ‘I am not in the habit of being addressed by a housemaid. Kindly go about your duties elsewhere.’
What else could I do? Harriet would not even look in my direction. After one last glance at her determined face, I curtseyed and went out of the room. I could hear Lady Vye telling her stepdaughter what a clumsy, unladylike creature she was before I had even reached the door, and my heart bled for her. I didn’t have the courage to turn back, though, and hurried along to give Mary back the wretched duster and think what to do next.
Four o’clock tea had quickly become my favourite time of the day. The maids’ sitting room was such a pleasant place, with a view out over the kitchen garden and sturdy, comfortable furniture. Iris would lay a starched white cloth over the work table and we would have plum cake with our tea, and bread and butter with jam from the still room. It was half an hour of peace before the evening rush, and Jemima was never so sharp with me when other people were around.
This afternoon, however, I could take no pleasure in anything. What on earth would be happening to poor Harriet? She must have realized that I would lose my job immediately for breaking the ornament, and had risked her stepmother’s anger to protect me. I felt more ashamed of myself for letting her take the blame than I did for being so naughty in the first place - too ashamed to confess to anyone what had happened. All I could do was stare into my teacup and wonder how I could ever have been so stupid and thoughtless.
At supper time, William brought the news that Harriet had been made to stand in a corner of the library for three hours, and had just this minute been sent to bed without anything to eat. That might not sound such a harsh punishment, but three hours is a long time to stay still in one place with an aching back and tired legs, and nothing to look at but row upon row of musty books. It must have been humiliating, besides; Harriet was too old to be treated like a child in this way. I could not bear to think of her standing there, quite alone, and probably hungry and thirsty into the bargain. And all because of me! I blushed so fiercely with shame that it was a wonder nobody noticed.
‘What is she meant to have done this time?’ said Mr Wilkins, the under-butler. ‘Poor lass! Do you know, Her Ladyship ordered me to fetch two saucers last Sunday luncheon for Miss Harriet’s elbows. She had to sit there like that for the whole meal, to teach her to keep them off the table.’
‘She is trying to break the girl’s spirit, that’s what it’s all about,’ Mary said. ‘They are two strong characters, and neither will give way to the other. Mind you, Lady Vye has made a good job of Miss Eugenie: lovely manners, that young lady has, and all the accomplishments. No one could accuse Her Ladyship of neglecting her duties as a stepmother. And if she cannot love the girls quite so much as she does Master John, that is only to be expected. He is her own flesh and blood, after all.’
And then Iris appeared from the housekeeper’s room with the full story, which she had overheard from the upper servants. Lady Vye had given Mrs Henderson the broken figurine to see if it could be mended, and told her about Miss Harriet’s disgrace. To my surprise, the housekeeper and the cook seemed to have taken Harriet’s side even more strongly than Mr Wilkins. But Mary told us that Miss Harriet had been a favourite in the kitchen since she was small; she had her own little apron and bowl and would spend hours there, making pastry and biscuits.
Harriet was sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a candle lamp, when I went into her room with hot water and towels later that evening. ‘Oh, Miss,’ I said, hurrying over to her. ‘However can I thank you? But why did you do it? You should have let me own up and take the punishment, not you.’
‘Then you would have been dismissed,’ she said, all matter-of-fact. ‘And that cannot happen to stepdaughters, or I would have been sent away a long time ago. Don’t worry, it’s all over and done with now.’
Sadly for both of us, however, this was not the case. The very next morning at breakfast, Mary told us she had just heard from Mrs Henderson that Lady Vye had given Harriet’s old nanny notice to leave. A new governess would be coming in her place, to teach Miss Harriet how to behave. Even Mary was shocked by this, despite her support for Lady Vye’s methods of child-rearing. ‘Poor Miss Harriet!’ she said, chewing her lip more anxiously than ever. ‘Nanny Roberts must be the nearest thing to a mother she’s ever had. And what about Master John? He’ll be heartbroken.’
‘So there are to be no more babies in the house,’ Becky said, looking meaningfully at Jemima. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, what with the Vyes in separate bedrooms and never going near each other so far as anyone can see.’
‘That is quite enough!’ Mary was outraged. ‘There is no call for gossip of such kind here, thank you very much. If you want to talk like that, you had better go and work in the laundry.’
What a deal of trouble had come about because of one little china figurine! Mary said that she had heard Lady Vye had decided to dismiss Nanny Roberts some time ago (this information came from Miss de Courcy, Lady Vye’s maid), but I knew her leaving was meant as an extra punishment for Harriet and would never forgive myself for helping bring it about. However, I was soon taken up with troubles enough of my own. Mary told me to report to Mrs Henderson’s room after breakfast. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach; as soon as I saw her face, I knew I was right to fear the worst.
‘Well, Polly Perkins,’ she began, ‘I always had my doubts about you and they seem to have been proved right. I must have told you a hundred times never to speak unless you are spoken to. Do you think I enjoyed having to stand there and listen to an account of your brazen behaviour? Well, do you?’
‘No, Mrs Henderson,’ I whispered.
‘Lady Vye told me this is the second time she’s had cause to notice you and she won’t have such an impudent hussy under her roof. And just when you were beginning to be of some use!’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘If we weren’t expecting company, I would have sent you off to pack your bags immediately. But we are short-staffed as it is and there are guests arriving today. Stay until the ball is over and you can have a full month’s wages and your train fare home. I can’t say fairer than that - it’s only another few days. Now get out of my sight.’
‘Yes, Mrs Henderson,’ I said, and let myself out. I walked back down the corridor towards the servants’ hall in a daze, and then the full force of what had just happened came home to me and I had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch my breath. I had been dismissed! I was to be sent away in disgrace, with only a month’s wages to give my mother and no decent character reference to help me get another job. This was a disaster. We were in desperate need of money at home: Mother had had to cut the toes out of my sister Lizzie’s boots and she was counting on my help to buy new ones, let alone a winter coat now that Lizzie’s had been handed down to Martha. And the shame of it, coming back to our village like that with my tail between my legs, when I had left so proudly! Whatever would we tell the neighbours? And how could I say goodbye to Iris and William, and Miss Harriet?
The other housemaids were setting off upstairs to clean the bedrooms. I could tell from the way they looked at me - Becky curious but not unkind, Jemima triumphant - that Mary must have told them my situation. ‘There you are, Polly,’ Mary said to me now. ‘Do your best over the next few days and you may still get a decent character reference.’ And she put an arm round my shoulder to shepherd me along.
It was kind of her to speak to me like that, but I knew she was worried that I would not see the point in trying any more, and there was a great deal of work to be done. All those guest bedrooms had to be cleaned and the beds made every day, and several of the ladies who were coming to stay were not bringing servants with them. Mary and Becky would be maiding the married ladies, Jemima the single, and many of their duties would fall on my shoulders. I have always worked hard, though; it is in my nature to do the best I can, no matter what the circumstances, and I was not going to change now.
The Hall did look lovely that day, ready for the house party and the ball to come. There were fires, clean towels and linen in every bedroom, fresh writing paper and candles on each desk, and huge bowls of flowers on all the gleaming side tables, despite the season. Lord Vye had supervised the building of three hothouses the year before, and the gardeners had been raising orchids, lilies and freesias all winter. We couldn’t help pausing now and then to breathe in their fragrance, alongside the familiar Swallowcliffe smells of beeswax polish, wood smoke and baking.
I had been so proud to come here, yet now all this beauty and comfort was like a knife in my heart. ‘Look what you will be leaving behind,’ the rooms seemed to whisper to me as I walked through them. ‘Such luxury is not for the likes of you. Go back and skivvy in some humble place where you belong.’
The rest of the day passed in a dream. Our guests began arriving in the afternoon; suddenly the house was full of elegantly-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and all the welcoming hustle and bustle that came with them. Coachmen and footmen hurried to and fro with armfuls of luggage, while we showed the visitors to their rooms and made sure they had everything they needed. Mrs Henderson seemed to be in a hundred places at once: Lady So and So’s hatbox had been mislaid on the journey from the station; Lord What’s his Name would like another pillow and the windows opened in his room - the Countess, however, was nowhere near warm enough and wanted the fire banking up. Then on top of everything else, the Dowager Duchess’s maid had forgotten to pack her diamonds and a footman had to be sent back to London by the very next train to pick them up. Not such a great disaster, though you might have thought so for all the fuss and squawking that went on. I could not help feeling a little bitter with all the worries that were staring me in the face. The way things had turned out, come to think about it, I should have owned up to breaking the figurine in the first place and saved Miss Harriet the trouble.
I did not see Harriet to talk to all day as she was taken up with her cousins, and I couldn’t tell Iris what had happened either, since she was too busy to set foot outside the still room. Then in the evening we were rushed off our feet, taking up cans of hot water for the guests’ hip baths and making sure each room had plenty of soap and towels. Dinner always started at eight o’clock sharp - Lord Vye hated to be late - and Mrs Henderson told us maids we could watch the company going into the dining room from the upstairs landing, so long as we were careful to keep out of sight. I saw William down there, looking very smart in his best livery, and hoped his poor head wasn’t itching too much.
The second footman Thomas stood opposite him on the other side of the double doors, and the gentlemen and ladies went through between them, two by two. Lord Vye led the way with an elderly duchess hanging off his arm, followed by Her Ladyship, who was escorted by some officer or general with hardly enough dinner jacket for all his rows of medals. She was wearing the most gorgeous blue velvet gown, and diamonds sparkled around her neck and in her hair.
‘Master Edward will be a catch for one lucky girl some day,’ Becky said, peeking at him through the banisters. ‘In line to inherit the whole estate, and handsome to boot! I don’t know why he has to be so solemn and serious all the time.’ It was true: there was a rather brooding air about Edward’s face. His eyes were dark and deepset, and he did not seem to smile very often.
‘Isn’t Miss Eugenie a picture?’ Mary sighed, and we all agreed that Agnes had done her proud. She did look lovely with her hair piled up in a mass of dark ringlets, dressed in pale yellow silk and pearls - like some fresh spring flower, I thought to myself. ‘A lamb to the slaughter,’ Jemima remarked, which was just the sort of thing she would say. Miss Eugenie looked more like a cat who’d got the cream to me. A fair-haired young man was taking her into dinner and paying her a great deal of attention, although I couldn’t help noticing that he had a boil on the back of his neck and not much chin to speak of.
‘Back to work!’ Mary said at last, when all the guests had gone through to the dining room. There must have been ten extra bedrooms to attend to, and they wouldn’t tidy themselves. For much of the evening, gales of laughter had come floating down the corridor from the nursery, where Miss Harriet was entertaining her younger cousins. I was hurrying past the room a couple of hours later with some clean towels when suddenly the door burst open and a rabble of children came tumbling out, most of them riding on the back of a young man on all fours with tousled chestnut hair, who was roaring like a lion. He suddenly reared up with a particularly fearsome growl and Master John fell off, shrieking with delight, which only seemed to add to the general enjoyment.
It was hard not to smile at the sight: John was such a sweet child, for all the world like the boy blowing bubbles on the Pears’ soap picture, with his blond curls and dimpled chin. I could see the poor nurserymaid in the doorway behind, wringing her hands in anxiety, and Harriet, carrying a fat moon-faced baby which was laughing louder than anyone.