Polly's Story (6 page)

‘Oh, Polly, this is Rory!’ she cried as soon as she saw me. ‘He has arrived at last!’

The young man struggled to his feet, shaking off the last few riders. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Polly,’ he said, somewhat out of breath, and then took my hand and pressed it to his lips. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, not being in the habit of having my hand kissed by a gentleman; besides, he had made me drop the towels in a heap on the floor. So I muttered some hasty reply and dropped a curtsey before stooping to pick them up - upon which we cracked heads together, as he had bent to do the very same thing! I was in some confusion by now, especially as it was a hard blow and I knew it must have hurt him too (although he had no one to blame but himself). The children, of course, thought all this was very funny.

Master Rory managed to recover his wits more quickly than I did. ‘Look at all the trouble I’ve caused,’ he said, bundling the towels untidily back in my arms. ‘You are probably thinking I should be downstairs quietly eating my dinner and making polite conversation, instead of whipping these poor little children into such a pitch of excitement they will never get to sleep tonight.’

Of course, he was perfectly right - the very thought was running through my head at that precise moment. ‘You see, I can read your mind,’ he said, looking at me so mischievously that I did not know where to put myself. ‘You may have no secrets from me, pretty Polly. But I could not help being late, for various reasons, and Her Ladyship hates to have dinner interrupted. I was thinking of sloping down to the kitchen in a minute and asking Mrs Bragg to let me have something on a tray. Goddard is busy in the dining room, no doubt.’

‘Oh, Rory, don’t be ridiculous!’ Harriet interrupted. ‘How can you think of going anywhere near the kitchen in the middle of supper? You might think you can wind Mrs Bragg round your little finger, but she’ll have you hanging from a meat hook in no time, I assure you.’

That was true enough. At dinner time that day, I had heard the upper servants discussing the evening’s menu: there were to be two different types of soup and turbot with lobster sauce to start, then lamb cutlets, compôte of pigeons and grilled mushrooms to follow, with a haunch of venison, boiled capon and oysters, pressed ox tongue, various vegetables and salads for the main course - not to mention the ices and puddings to follow afterwards. The kitchen would be hot as Hades, and Mrs Bragg in no mood for interruptions - not even from Rory Vye.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘If only the remains of your nursery supper had not looked quite so unappetizing. Wait a minute! What about the delights of the still room? Perhaps Mrs Henderson can be persuaded to take pity on me - or even better, the lovely Iris. Now back to bed this minute, you naughty children, or I shall have to tell your parents that you have led me astray.’ And he rushed at those nearest to him with another ferocious roar, which sent them all skittering back into the room, screaming at the tops of their voices. Just as well the nursery was far enough away from the dining room to be out of earshot, I thought to myself.

‘I’m so glad Rory’s home,’ Harriet said, watching her brother as he sauntered off down the corridor, straightening his tweed jacket. ‘Now we shall have some fun! Don’t look so disapproving, Polly. You must love Rory - everybody does.’

I was not quite sure what to think about Rory Vye, to be honest. He was a charmer all right, but he had made me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I thought he had a cheek, too, turning up so late and then expecting a meal to be specially prepared for him. Still, perhaps I was only being hard on him because of the mood I was in that evening. Looking at Miss Harriet’s happy face, I decided to tell her what had happened some other time; it was news that could keep till the next day.

I saw Master Rory in the still room a little while later, eating jam out of the jar with a teaspoon and bothering Iris while she turned a chocolate bombe out of its mould. If Mrs Henderson had been there, I’m sure she would have dropped a few hints that he should leave, but she was upstairs checking the bedrooms. And then Iris noticed me walk past and came running out, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘Oh, Polly! I’ve just heard what happened. What is to be done? Surely you cannot really be leaving!’

‘I can, and I am,’ I told her, biting my lip. ‘And it is my own fault - I have no one to blame but myself.’ As if that made my troubles any easier to bear.

Five

I ask you whether one reason why disobedience is so common among young servants is because they do not see the beauty of obedience. On the contrary, they think it is ‘spirited’ to let folks see that they have got a will of their own. Oh, that I could but show you the ugliness of disobedience, how loathsome and hateful a thing it is when compared with the sweet beauty of obedience!

From The Dignity of Service, sermons by Reverend Henry Housman, 1876

‘I’ve an older sister who’s a housekeeper up in London,’ William said. ‘Shall I ask her if she knows of a decent family in need of a housemaid? I’m sure she could soon fix you up with something.’

‘Oh, don’t you go bothering her on my account. I shall probably find a place around here sooner or later.’

It was kind of him to put himself out for me and I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but somehow I didn’t fancy the idea of working in the city. Ada from our village had gone to London as a general servant for a grocer and his family. ‘She’s to slave away from five in the morning till gone midnight,’ her mother reported after a week, ‘with only a drunken cook and one lazy footman for company - and nothing but leftovers to eat!’ No, I wanted to work in a big house with plenty of other girls to be friends with, and pleasant places to walk on my afternoons off, and good food on the table. Still, beggars can’t be choosers. I had precious little chance of finding work in a place like Swallowcliffe again.

William would not be put off. ‘Let me have your address just in case, and I’ll write to you if I hear anything,’ he said. ‘It’s a small world, and who knows? We may well run into each other again. Here’s hoping, Polly. I shall miss our early-morning talks.’ And he looked at me quite seriously for a change.

‘Cheer up! There’ll be another girl for you to talk to soon enough,’ I said, trying to make light of it. The truth was, I would miss him too - though I wasn’t going to give him any ideas by saying as much - and didn’t want to think that this might be the last time we would be speaking to each other. I could still hardly believe that my time at the Hall was coming to an end so soon. The ball was to be held that evening; most of our guests were going home the next day and I would be leaving with them.

 
That afternoon, we were given a couple of hours off before our work began in earnest, so Iris suggested we go for a walk around the lake. I would gladly have jumped into it by that time to get away from Jemima’s gloating face - although the water was presently frozen over, what with the bitter cold weather we’d been having. Spiky trees stood out dark against a sky already streaked with pink, and little matchstick figures were gliding about over the clean white ice. Miss Harriet was out skating with her brothers - I could hear her calling to one of them, and Master John laughing excitedly about something, which made me smile, and then Rory and Edward’s deeper voices underneath.

I looked back at the house and pictured what was going on, the other side of those quiet walls. The ladies would be upstairs, changing into fancy tea gowns, while William and the other footmen would be hurrying between the kitchen and the drawing room below with plates of crumpets and tea cakes, sponges and scones. Lamps glowed in the windows; soon Mrs Henderson would be doing her rounds, drawing curtains and closing shutters against the darkening winter afternoon. I had been part of this world for just a little while, and it would go on its merry way perfectly well without me.

‘Shall we go and watch them skating?’ Iris said, her face lighting up, and so we strolled towards the lake. I had still not had the chance to tell Harriet what had befallen me - nor the heart, either, because I knew how sorry she would be to see me go. I would explain the next day, just before I left; there was no point in spoiling her fun now.

‘Come and join us!’ she called as we came nearer, and then skated over to where we stood. ‘Margaret has gone in and left her skates behind. Look, by that tree trunk. You can take turns with them.’

‘Not me,’ Iris said, laughing and shaking her head. ‘I cannot skate to save my life.’

‘Come on then, Polly!’ Harriet coaxed. ‘Don’t disappoint me too. It is such fun!’ And she twirled a graceful loop, her red tartan skirt flying out in a wide circle.

Why not? I thought to myself. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb; I could hardly be dismissed twice, anyway. So without more ado, I sat on the tree trunk, took off my boots and laced up the skates, which were on the small side but not too uncomfortable. My friend Millie and I used to spend hours on the village pond when it froze over in winter: she had been passed down two pairs of skates from her twin brothers, which came in very handy for me. So out I sailed and, for a few glorious minutes, all my troubles went streaming away into the air behind me. There can be nothing better than skimming along, light as a feather, while the smooth ice rushes past under your feet and your lungs fill up with so much cold, clean air that you could almost spread out your arms and take off into the sky like some great wild bird.

‘Wait for me!’ Harriet called from somewhere far away, and I came to my senses to find myself right out in the middle of the lake. Slowly I skated back towards her, savouring every minute of my freedom. For one moment Swallowcliffe belonged to me. The lake, and the trees, and the sky above - even the house itself - were as much mine as they were anybody’s, because I had become a part of them and they were a part of me. Perhaps I would not vanish into thin air when the time came to go but leave something of myself behind. The next girl to sleep in that bed under the window might wake up one morning with a dream of me in her head, even though she would not know where it had come from, or quite what it was. Listen to me talk! And yet somehow it was comforting to think so.

I held out my hand to Harriet and we took a turn around together, arm in arm. Master Rory had left the ice to talk to Iris, and Edward was skating over to join them - that only left Master John, who was making his way out to the middle of the lake, where I had just been. ‘Not too far out!’ I called to him. He could skate very well for a boy of his age, but I did not feel happy about him going so far away. The lake had only been frozen for a couple of days, and we did not know exactly how thick the ice was. I disentangled myself from Harriet and made my way over to bring him back. John was a great favourite in the house; he and Miss Harriet were allowed to take their supper with us in the servants’ hall sometimes as a treat, and everyone was pleased to see them.

‘Turn around now, Master John,’ I called again, but he only looked back and laughed at me over his shoulder, thinking this was a great game. ‘No, I mean it,’ I shouted to him, quickening my pace and growing more worried by the minute. I did not want to chase him further out across the ice, but it was dangerous for him to be so far away. If anything happened, we should not be able to reach him quickly enough.

‘John! Come here at once,’ Harriet shouted behind me, but her little brother only skated faster.

And then my worst fears were suddenly realized, with a speed that took us all by surprise. There was a sudden crack that sounded like a gunshot across the quiet lake and the ice gave way under John’s skates, shattering into pieces all around him. He disappeared, falling headlong into the darkness below. For a heart-stopping second we could see nothing. Then his head emerged and one frantic arm waved above the surface, trying to find something - anything - to hold on to in the treacherous sea of water and bobbing chunks of ice, and the sight of that despairing, sinking arm shocked us back to life.

‘No!’ Harriet screamed, starting to race towards him.

I grabbed her arm. ‘Stop! Go much closer and the ice will give way under you too.’

 
‘But we have to do something! Are we just going to stand there and watch him drown?’

‘Take off your scarf and follow me,’ I said, trying not to panic. My father had told me what to do if ever someone should fall through the ice: you were to get down flat on your stomach, to spread the weight evenly, and try to drag the person out with something like a rope, or even a tree branch. There was no rope to hand, but I had a shawl and Harriet a long woollen scarf - we would have to manage with that.

‘John, we’re coming to pull you out,’ I shouted, skating as close as I dared and then dropping to my hands and knees. The ice groaned beneath me and I quickly fell flat on my stomach, spreading out my arms and legs. Fifteen feet or so from the boy was as near as I could get. I saw his desperate white face just above the inky water; we had seconds before the cold got to him and he disappeared under the surface.

Harriet was lying flat out on the ice next to me. I grabbed her scarf and tied a knot in one end, then knotted my shawl to the other. ‘Wriggle as close as you can and throw him this,’ I ordered, pushing her in front; she was lighter than me. ‘I’ll hold your ankles and pull you both back.’

‘Catch the scarf, Johnny,’ she shouted, bunching it up in her hand. ‘We’ll get you out!’

Once, twice, three times she had to throw our makeshift rope out to her brother before he managed to grab hold of it and we could begin to haul him towards us. A wide corridor of ice gave way in his path, and I had to squirm frantically backwards or Harriet and I would have fallen through ourselves. I think we were both beginning to panic then. We could not tow the boy all the way back to the shore! He would have drowned before we reached it.