The Lost And Found Girl (22 page)

‘No!’ Daisy flopped on the edge of the bed with her head drooping. ‘I’m just tired.’

Annie tipped up her chin with one hand and placed the other across her brow. ‘You’re burning up, do you know that?’

Daisy wished that was really true; then she’d be dead and all the pain and weariness would be gone.

‘You can’t stay here, lass, not until I know what’s up with you. You might have summat catching. Get your gown on again.’

Annie sat on Daisy’s bed to relace her boots and, half asleep, Daisy reluctantly did the same. When she was dressed again Annie led her back to the under-housekeeper’s office and further down the corridor. It was quite dark now and the
only light came from candle stubs burning in candleholders screwed to the partition walls. She knocked on two of the closed doors before getting a reply.

‘Who’s there?’ It was a male voice.

‘Annie Brown.’

‘The housekeepers have gone to bed.’

‘I’ve got one of the girls wi’ me.’

The door opened and a footman in his shirtsleeves added, ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’

‘No.’

The man sighed. ‘It’ll have to. There’ll be hell to pay if I have to wake any of them after the day we’ve had.’

Daisy had closed her eyes and was lolling against the door jamb. Annie replied, ‘Look at her. She’s bleeding and I think it’s serious.’

‘It’s not women’s doings, is it? I don’t want owt to do with that.’

‘There must be somebody who can help her.’

‘Can’t you see to her fer tonight?’

‘I’ve got the others to keep an eye on. Besides, she needs more tending than I can give her. Who do you go to when one of the upstairs maids gets sick?’

‘The housekeeper, unless she doesn’t want her to know, like.’ He thought for a moment then reached for his livery jacket. ‘The old nurse’ll know what to do. She’ll still be awake. She doesn’t sleep much nowadays.’

‘I thought she’d gone to an almshouse.’

‘Naw, she grew up here and she’ll die here.’

‘Where is she?’

‘In the attics. I’ll show you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know that I should go up there.’

‘You want the lass seen to, don’t you?’

Daisy was only half aware of the conversation. Her head was muzzy with exhaustion and she felt hot all over. She felt her knees going and started to slither down the wall. Desperately she reached out and clutched at the man’s jacket to stop herself collapsing. ‘Help,’ she croaked.

Annie jumped forward. ‘Tek one of her arms. She’s fair dead on her feet.’

‘Who is she anyroad? I don’t remember seeing her face afore.’

‘She’s new. Come on, lass. Brace yerself.’

She didn’t know where she was going but hopefully to someone who was going to help her so she put one determined foot in front of the other as she was half carried through doors and down passages until she was standing at the foot of a narrow wooden staircase. It may as well have been a mountain as far as Daisy was concerned.

‘You’re nearly there, lass,’ the footman encouraged and half dragged her up the stairs while Annie followed carrying a candle.

The climb went on, it seemed, for ever and several times Daisy stumbled on the steps but eventually she reached the very top of the staircase and a small landing. ‘Do you know which door it is?’ Annie whispered.

‘Aye. I’ve been here before.’ The footman rapped on a door.

‘Who’s there?’ enquired a weak voice from within.

‘I have a lass needs seeing to,’ he answered.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

Annie Brown took over and said to the footman, ‘Thank you. I’ll explain.’

The footman, glad to be away, melted into the darkness of the stairway. Annie added, ‘I am so sorry to disturb you,
ma’am, but this is Higgins. She arrived today and she’s – she’s – well she ’as a fever.’

After a short silence a voice answered, ‘Bring her inside, the door’s not locked.’

The room was comfortably furnished as a sitting room with an upholstered couch and fireside chairs and a bed in the far corner. A small, very old woman was sitting at a table playing patience with a pack of cards by the light of an oil lamp. She was in her nightgown and a nightcap with a woollen shawl about her shoulders. She turned and peered at them over a pair of round spectacle lenses balanced on her nose.

‘Sit her on the couch.’

But Daisy took one look at the bed and fell forwards, sprawling over the tapestry cover. Her skin burned and her head throbbed. She closed her eyes and prayed for oblivion. The last thing she was aware of was the old woman’s thin reedy voice saying, ‘You’ll have to help me with her.’

She was vaguely aware of being undressed and aided as best she could. But her head seemed to be floating on the ceiling away from her body and she took the small draught that Annie offered to her without resistance. It made her drift away from the pain but she was aroused later by a stinging sensation on her behind and squealed. Somebody was applying a poultice to her, then pulling up her drawers and tying the tapes. ‘Put her on the couch,’ she heard. ‘There’s a blanket over the back.’ Lying flat on her stomach, she sank into a slumber and the next thing she was aware of was a pale grey light in the chamber and dawn was breaking.

Her head throbbed and felt heavy. She was hot and shivery at the same time. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and she was thirsty. She moaned as she tried to move and it was not just due to the pain from her whipping, her limbs felt like lead and she was drained of all her energy. With difficulty she turned on her side and recalled how she’d got here. There was no sign of Annie. The old woman was sitting up in bed, wrapped in her shawl with her head tipped back in sleep. Daisy flopped back onto her stomach, shut her eyes and hoped for oblivion again. She must have dozed because the room was lighter when she next opened them and the bent old woman was moving about the room. She turned onto her side and groaned.

The old woman stopped what she was doing and came over. She had her spectacles on her nose and peered closely at her face. ‘Try and sit up and I’ll give you some water.’

Such nectar! The cold clear liquid slid down her rasping throat and she gulped.

‘Steady,’ the woman advised. ‘Sip slowly.’ She put a hand on her brow. ‘I’ll mix you another draft. The chamber pot is in that commode and there’s clean water in the pitcher.’

Daisy hardly had the strength to get up from the couch but as she moved she realised that her wounds were not stinging any more and there was padding underneath her drawers. However her legs seemed to have turned to jelly and she felt cold. She shivered as she rinsed her hands and face at the washstand and was grateful to sink back on the couch and under her blanket. The old woman was busy at a small dresser full of tiny glass bottles and stoneware pots. She brought over a small thick glass full of a cloudy liquid.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘It’s something to help you get better.’

‘Th-thank you,’ she mumbled, taking the draught.

The old woman watched her swallow the bitter liquid. ‘Annie Brown called you Daisy. That’s a pretty name.’

Daisy managed a smile, but all she wanted to do was lie down and close her eyes …

She drifted in and out of sleep, aware of the old woman tending to her sore skin with ointments and mixing potions for her to drink. Sometimes Annie was there helping her to sit up and drink. She brought her soup and bread, eggs cooked in butter and fresh water. Daisy was aroused by snatches of conversation.

‘How did she get here?’ the old woman asked.

‘Her brother brought her. He’s an itinerant on Home Farm.’

‘She’s a vagrant, then.’

Daisy realised that she was just that. She was homeless and without a position or means. They’ll send her to the workhouse! Where was Boyd? She tried to sit up and mumbled, ‘Is it Sunday yet? I have to get dressed for church.’

Annie came over and gave her some water. ‘You’ll not be going this week, ducks.’

‘But I have to be – better – for – Sunday, church – on – Sunday—’ Daisy drifted into fog again.

She was aware that she felt well as soon as she opened her eyes. They were sitting at the table watching her, Annie and the old lady.

‘She’s awake.’

‘Is it Sunday yet?’ Daisy asked.

Annie answered. ‘Sunday’s been and gone, love.’

Daisy sat up alarmed. ‘I’ve missed church! What’s happened to Boyd!’

‘Calm down. Your brother came looking for you in the servants’ quarters.’

‘You didn’t tell him I was poorly, did you? He’ll only worry.’

‘Aye well, he knows you’re in good hands. They’ve sent him off with a gang to yon side of the estate so you won’t be seeing him ’til the harvest is in.’

‘Oh, but that’s weeks away. Where is my gown? I have to go with him.’

‘No, you don’t. He asked us to find you summat here. Well, his overseer did. So, you’ve a few more days up here keeping Mrs Potter company, then I’ll find out what you can do for us in the servants’ hall.’

‘You’ll give me a position here?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Annie stood up and picked up an empty tray. ‘Ta-ra for now.’

When Annie had left, Mrs Potter said, ‘Come to the table and eat this porridge. I want you to tell me about the whippings you’ve had.’

Daisy hesitated. But she was hungry so she wrapped the blanket around her and staggered to the table.

Mrs Potter was bent and wizened but her mind was alert. ‘You’ve scars and scabs as well as fresh wounds,’ she said. ‘What did you do to get them?’

Embarrassed, Daisy looked down into the porridge. ‘I tried ever so hard to please them but the more I did, the more they found fault with me. I did work hard, I promise.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t do anything right.’

‘Where were you in service?’

‘I wasn’t in service. I helped my mother keep house.’

‘Your mother did this to you?’ Mrs Potter seemed genuinely shocked.

‘Well, no. She – she – remembered every single thing that I did wrong and told Father when he came in from work. He – he did the whippings. He said it was for my own good. He said I had to learn.’

‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. It’s a father’s task to discipline his offspring. But these were harsh beatings. You must have been a wicked child.’

‘Father said I was disobedient.’

‘Did you go off with lads and let them kiss you?’

‘No! I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except with Boyd. He didn’t know about the whippings because he’s slept in the shed since he was ten. But this time Father made him watch – and – and, well, Boyd stopped him. He snatched the whip off him.’ She paused and swallowed. ‘We ran away after that.’

Daisy stifled a shiver of apprehension as she thought about
her father. She thought he had taken pleasure in whipping her and she dreaded being sent back to him. She wished Boyd were here with her now.

Daisy stayed another two nights with Mrs Potter. Mrs Potter taught her to play cards and Daisy tidied her collection of remedies. She wiped clean the containers and placed them in alphabetical order on the marble-topped dresser. She wrote new labels for some in her neat handwriting and learned something of their uses. On the second day, the under-housekeeper brought up breakfast and stayed to ask questions.

Daisy stood with her hands by her sides.

‘Is she better, Mrs Potter?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The housekeeper turned to Daisy. ‘Have you any money to go home?’

Daisy tried not to show her alarm. ‘I can’t go back there!’

‘Well, you can’t stay here until your brother gets back from the harvest.’

‘But Annie – I mean Mrs Brown, said I—’ Daisy stopped. Annie had not actually promised her anything.

Mrs Potter came to her rescue. She lowered her voice and said, ‘She had to leave home because—’ The old lady crooked a finger and the housekeeper bent down closer to listen. But Daisy heard what she said right enough. ‘Her father did things to her, you know. That’s why her brother fetched her away.’

The housekeeper seemed overcome by this. ‘Oh! Oh! Poor little lass! She’s not – not – you know?’

Daisy wondered what Mrs Potter was playing at. She opened her mouth to explain but was silenced by a raised hand from the old woman who said, ‘We’ll all say no more about it. These things are best forgotten.’

The housekeeper had her hand held on her chest, her mouth was open and she was looking at a blank wall muttering, ‘The brute. He wants stringing up.’

Daisy raised her eyebrows and received a tiny smile and a nod from Mrs Potter who was continuing, ‘Aye well, just as long as you don’t say nothing to nobody about it, ma’am. But the lass can read and write and she picks things up quickly.’

‘Really? Brown has said she would be prepared to take her. What do you think?’

‘I don’t think she’ll disappoint but,’ Mrs Potter lowered her voice, ‘you tell Annie Brown to keep a special eye on her, though, until her brother gets back.’

‘Oh, I shall. She’ll have to find her a uniform for a start.’

Daisy’s spirits were raised and she thanked Mrs Potter and vowed to repay her somehow, someday. She clattered down the interminable wooden stairs through doors and passages, past store rooms and kitchens with steaming boilers and scurrying cooks and maids, to the outbuildings that housed the lowliest of the Abbey’s servants.

The under-housekeeper found Annie pushing dirty linen into a canvas bag for the laundry.

‘Higgins will be in your brigade as an under-housemaid until her brother returns. Keep a close eye on her, Brown. She has no testimonial so make sure she learns everything proper and don’t let her set foot in the Abbey without my permission.’

Annie grimaced at Daisy who smiled and said, ‘Thank you for helping me that night, Annie. I had a fever but I’m better now.’

‘Aye, you look a bit livelier today. There’s a uniform laid out on your bed in the dormitory. Then come and help me lay up the table for our dinner.’

Daisy hurried away feeling that her luck had changed. The grey gown gave her a sense of belonging and if she worked really hard Annie might find her a permanent position. How fortunate they would be if Boyd was taken on at Home Farm too! She laid out her own gown to brush and sponge in readiness for church and skipped off to help Annie. Daisy watched Annie carefully when she showed her what to do and determined to be the best under-housemaid Annie had ever had.