The Black Velvet Gown

by Catherine Cookson

  His face was almost ruby red as he addressed his mother, and her reply was, ‘Shut up, Tony, and sit down and calm yourself, and tell me what this is about.’

  As if he was still a young boy, her son immediately sat down and after drawing in a number of hissing breaths he said, ‘It’s that young skit who apparently was given a little knowledge by that mad bloke down at Moor House, and she has passed it on to the rest of the laundry staff, except the top one. They all came in there this morning’—he thumbed towards the fireplace—‘and signed their names, brazen as brass. Rows and rows of crosses, and there were three scum signing their names. And all through that miss, who also prides herself that she can speak French. Did you ever hear of any such thing?’

  ‘She’ll have to go.’

  Anthony Gullmington now glared at his wife as he shouted ‘Of course she’ll have to go. She should have gone long before now.’

  Then the attention of both was drawn again towards the old woman in the chair for she had laid her head back against the leather cushion and was staring upwards, her eyes wide in her face that looked like a mask, so thickly was it powdered. And now she began to talk: ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘send her packing. And the others with her if you like. Yes, do that, and it will be all over the county that Gullmington couldn’t bear any of his staff to write their names.’ Her head came forward now as she went on, ‘Not that I’m for the lower classes writing their names or being educated in any way, no, I’m with you there, Tony, but what I’m thinking about is, you’ve decided that Stephen must try for Parliament next year. Now as far as I can gather from both Laurence and Stephen there are men up there who are making themselves felt calling for certain liberties for the lower classes, and causing contention in the House at the present moment, trying to get bills through to establish schools for the education of the poor in every parish in this country. Now of course they can push all the bills through the Commons that they like, but it’s getting them through the Lords. That is the crucial point; and I think there is as much chance of getting education for all the poor through the Lords as that child who has caused a rumpus becoming Queen of England. But that isn’t the point’—she now looked at her son—‘the point at the moment is, education for the lower class is a platform from which young men may spring quickly into prominence, young men like Stephen who have never been heard of outside this county.’ She drew a long breath before going on, ‘Now Tony’—she nodded slowly at her son—‘it is your dearest wish, isn’t it, that Stephen will some day take his seat in the House? Well, can you tell me what his policy is going to be? Is he going to shout for the status quo as ninety per cent of the landowners in the country are doing, or join the other ten per cent, some of them, I understand, factory owners in the Midlands who have cut as much as an hour off their employees’ day; and moreover, besides their free Sunday they allow them to finish at four o’clock on a Saturday. Eh? Eh?

  ‘Now all this you should have learned from your son and Laurence over the past weeks, for quite candidly I have become weary of the conversations that have flowed back and forward over my chair, and even over my bed at night, between them. And I can tell you this, and it’s not going to please you, particularly you, Grace.’ She was looking at her daughter-in-law. ‘If anyone should stand for Parliament it should be Laurence, because his cause seems to be, again this controversial word, education, and if Stephen ever does take his seat up there, he’ll have Laurence to thank for stuffing some facts into his head and giving him a purpose, because he would never have found it on his own, being too much like his father.’ And she riveted her gaze on her son. ‘All you have ever thought about, Tony, from the time you could crawl, has been horses. There may have been one or two other things that have alighted on your horizon, but they’ve taken second and third places. Horses. Horses. Horses. And Stephen is no better. Oh, I’m not saying’—she moved her head from side to side—‘I’m not saying that Stephen is not a decent enough fellow. I’m very very fond of Stephen, and I will prove it if he carries out this idea, for to be a member doesn’t so much require brains as money; it will take large sums to pave the way and buy him in. And you, Tony, no longer have any large sums to play around with, have you? I could say, you could of course pave his way with the money you spend on horseflesh, but that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Mother.’

  ‘Don’t say, “Oh, Mother,” like that to me; you know I am speaking the truth. But let’s get back to the point. If you dismiss this girl and the reason for it spreads, Stephen will have to find another crutch on which to help him limp to London, because education was going to be one of the flags he was going to fly to attract the attention of his peers. Of course’—she pursed her wrinkled lips—‘there’s always the other side of it, he could take the opposite course and sit unnoticed among the old fogies up there until his beard touches his knees.’

  She watched her son now lumber to his feet and heard his teeth grind against each other before he said, ‘I’m against it. Mother. You know I’m against that kind of education.’

  Her voice was soft as she replied, ‘Yes, I know you are, Tony, as I am, and as is Stephen at bottom, but do you know anybody who has ever furthered himself politically by coming out into the open and standing up for what he knows to be right? You tell me of one. Parliament to my mind is a rookery: everyone of them cawing, cawing, cawing, in order to stay on their bit of the branch. And they all caw the same tune. If they changed it, the rest of the flock would attack them.’ She now turned and with a grin on her face, she nodded at her daughter-in-law, saying, ‘A very good simile that. And when I’m on about birds, compare the number of eagles with rooks. They are few and far between, but by God, don’t they stand out. And some of them even come to believe in the noises that they’re making. Not that I think Stephen has the makings of an eagle, but he could come in under one of their wings, to be noticed. Well, what about it?’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Her son’s voice was quiet now. ‘We can’t keep that girl on after this. The staff wouldn’t tolerate her.’

  ‘Who’s master in this house, you, or Fulton and Froggett? Anyway—’ she now bounced her head towards first one then the other, clasped her thin white lace mittened hands together before stating, ‘I’ll take the girl.’

  ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘You’re not deaf, Tony; you heard what I said. And this business seems to have come about at an opportune time, because Hobson’s feet won’t carry her much longer, and this girl can be trained to fetch an’ carry. And I shall certainly see that she has no opportunity for furthering her education as long as she’s in my house. It’s a solution, as I see it, that will benefit everyone in the long run. She can come off your wage sheet, I’ll see to that; the staff will be glad to get rid of her; and what’s more, your name won’t be bandied about for dismissing a poor little mite because she could write her own name. I can just see it. I can just see it…’

  ‘I don’t see this matter your way, Mother-in-law.’ Grace Gullmington’s voice cut in, deceptively quiet. ‘No, I don’t. I think she should be dismissed, and I’m sure our neighbours and the people who matter will agree with Anthony’s’—she inclined her head towards her husband—‘decision. No-one could blame him in the least, in fact I’m sure he would be hailed…’

  ‘Don’t try to be more stupid than God made you, woman.’

  The insult brought a scarlet flush to Grace Gullmington’s face and a reproving, ‘Now, now, Mother,’ from Anthony, and she turned on them both, her eyes flashing now. ‘You are a pair of nitwits,’ she cried. ‘Always have been and always will. And of the two, you are the bigger, madam.’ The saliva actually spurted from her lips on the last word. ‘And let me remind both of you, I may keep to my own end of this establishment but what should be evident to you is, I still rule it, because if I were to decide to move myself to another estate, and I could do, my legs may be weak but my head is far from it, I take my money with me.’ She now let he
r blazing gaze rest on her son as she ended, ‘And how long would you survive on your two thousand a year? This house is yours by inheritance, but it needs one hell of a lot of money to keep it up. You would, I foretell, be living in a dower house within months. So think on it. As for you, madam’—once more she was looking at her daughter-in-law—‘don’t you dare say to me that you will not have such and such happen here. How you ever came to be mistress of this place will always be a mystery to me. Now if it had been your despised cousin, Laurence’s mother, I could have understood it, because besides beauty, she had brains. And that’s why you hated her, wasn’t it? Why, if it hadn’t been for me, you would have rejected her plea for a home for her child. In fact, you did reject it, didn’t you? Although she had been deserted and was dying, you hadn’t it in your mean little heart to give her succour and…’

  ‘Mama! Mama!’

  ‘Don’t you mama me. You will not stop my tongue at this stage; this is something that I’ve always wanted to say. Now ring that bell for Hobson.’ She flung her arm out towards the bell pull hanging by the fireplace. ‘And let me say this finally, if I hear one more aggravating word I will do as I threatened a moment earlier. As you both know, Buxley Manor is up for sale and I’ve always liked that establishment. I would be doing Lord Milton a service in buying it, for he has run out of money for his gambling up in London…’

  The door opened and when the butler appeared, the old lady cried at him one single name, ‘Hobson.’

  Jessie now came hurrying into the room as quick as her painful feet would allow and as she turned the chair round and went to wheel it into the hall, the old lady cried, ‘That girl, the one that has caused the uproar, where is she?’

  ‘In the hall, Madam.’

  ‘Send her up into my house and tell her to stay there. I will see her on my return. Now.’ She cried the word at the two footmen, and they once again lifted the chair and carried it out through the front door on to the wide drive.

  As this was taking place Jessie Hobson hurried across to Biddy where she was standing in the shadow of the stairs, and said to her, ‘Go to the west wing, madam’s house.’

  Biddy was unable to speak for a moment and she gulped and sniffed before she could say, ‘I…I don’t know which way…And why?’

  ‘Never mind why, girl.’ Jessie now turned and, beckoning June Cordell towards her, she said, ‘Take this girl up to madam’s house. Put her in my sitting room.’ And the woman said, ‘Yes, miss’; then beckoning to Biddy, she took her past the foot of the main staircase, across the hall, through a side door, along a passage, and up two flights of narrow stairs, then through another door; and now Biddy found herself in the gallery of the house for the first time. The maid hurried her along it, then pushed open one side of a heavily embossed cream enamel double door, after which she put out her hand and pulled Biddy inside and into the hall that opened out of the west wing gallery. There were a number of doors leading from the hall, also two passages. At the end of one passage the maid thrust open a door and, pointing, she said, ‘Stay there.’ But instead of turning immediately away and scurrying back as she had scurried here, she looked at Biddy through narrowed eyes, saying, ‘Eeh, the things you get up to. It’s as they say, there’s never been a one like you here afore. Why do you do it?’

  She waited for an answer, but Biddy remained silent. She was too bemused to even think of a reply. In the ordinary scheme of things, she should be on her way out with her bundle after that commotion in the drawing room, for it had just sounded exactly like a row in the pit row on a Saturday night when some of the men had come home rolling drunk. It was impossible to believe that the gentry could raise their voices like that. Young ones, like the two that had attacked her, oh, yes, them, but not when they were grown up and held positions. Why had she been sent up here? Suddenly she sat down on the nearest chair which was a rocking chair and to the amazement of the housemaid she began rocking herself.

  As June Cordell was to say in the staff room later on that day, the sight of the girl sitting there rocking herself and not saying a word, as cool as a cucumber like, gave her quite a turn. She agreed wholeheartedly with the rest of them that there was something odd about her. And fancy finding all that stuff in her mattress, and that book that the housekeeper said was a foreign one, besides the one with poems. And that wasn’t all. Look what they had found in the other laundry maids’ mattresses, practically the same, except they hadn’t any foreign books. It was right, there was something weird about her, and things had never been the same in the house since she came. And remember what the parson had said last week about evil spirits. Well, there was something in that. But then look where she had landed! Up in the choice part of the house. Any one of them would have given their eyeballs to be promoted up there permanent like, because it was a sure thing that Miss Hobson’s feet wouldn’t hold her up much longer, and now it could be possible that she would train that one to take her place. Eeh! It was incredible.

  Everyone around the table agreed that it was incredible.

  But this was to be at seven o’clock that evening. Upstairs, sitting on the rocking chair, Biddy did not put the word incredible to her situation, for she was unable to think clearly about it all. She did not know what was going to happen to her, nor why she had been sent up here. There was only one thing sure, she would soon find out.

  It was over an hour later when she found out. Jessie Hobson, coming into the room, brought her to her feet, and the older woman, wagging a finger at her, said, ‘Now Biddy, listen to me. I haven’t much time to prime you, all I can say is there’s a chance in a lifetime staring you in the face. It’s up to you how you behave, whether you get it or not. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’

  ‘Not…not quite.’

  Jessie closed her eyes for a moment, then said, ‘Well, it’s like this. Madam has saved you from being thrown out. Why, I really can’t tell you.’ Her voice sank. ‘She’s a contrary character; she could have just done it to spite the mistress, but for what reason doesn’t matter. You’re up here and your job will be to run, and fetch, and carry. Do all the menial jobs, but at the same time watch me and all the things I have to do for madam; then if you can fit in, who knows, she might take to you or she might not. If she takes to you, she’ll give you a rough time; if she doesn’t take to you, you won’t be here to have a rough time. Now, do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Hobson.’

  ‘Well, come along now. But there’s one thing I’ll tell you before you start: you’ve got everybody in this house, except’—she pulled a long face now—‘your pupils, agen you, and I’m not only meaning the staff, but them up top an’ all. So if you want to remain here, you’ve got a battle on your hands.’

  She didn’t want to remain here. But then what was she thinking? One day she could become a lady’s maid. The glory of the sudden realisation lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, and now she followed Jessie Hobson out of the room, along the wide corridor, past four doors, then stopped with her before another set of double doors.

  Jessie tapped lightly on one door, then pushed it open, at the same time taking Biddy by the hand, and then slowly led her to where the old lady was sitting in a blue velvet-padded chair near the window.

  Biddy had never seen the old lady close up before. She looked terribly old to her. She thought she had never seen anybody look as old, not even the very old women in the hamlets, because even if their skin was wrinkled, it still looked like skin, whereas this face was so painted and powdered it looked like one of the china dolls she had seen the one and only time she had visited Gateshead Fell Fair.

  ‘Well! Well! So this is the creator of all the trouble.’

  The voice had no connection with the face for it was strong and vibrant.

  ‘So you can read and write, miss. You have also touched on French and Latin, so I understand. Well! Well! How learned you must be.’

  Biddy felt her face growing scarlet. She was being made fun of.<
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  ‘Speak to me in French.’

  When Biddy remained silent the voice barked at her, ‘Do you hear me, girl? I said, speak to me in French.’

  Her mind was going at a gallop trying to form a sentence. Then the words threw themselves at her; they jumped into her mouth and from her lips and she said, ‘Bonjour, madame. J’espère que vous êtes en bonne santé.’

  ‘My God!’ The old lady was looking up at Jessie Hobson now, and she cried, ‘She can! She can do it. And you know what she said to me, Hobson? No, of course you wouldn’t. She said—’ She turned her head now towards Biddy and commanded, ‘Tell her what you said in English.’

  Biddy wetted her lips, swallowed, then said, ‘I wouldn’t be so bold, madam.’

  ‘Do you hear that? Do you hear that, Hobson? What are things coming to, eh? A laundry slut, only one above the sewage cleaners in status, speaks to me in French, then disobeys my order.’

  Her manner changing, and her rouged and powdered face seeming to crack as it was screwed up and thrust towards Biddy, she cried, ‘Well, let that be the last evidence of your learning I am to hear. Do you understand me? There’ll be no more French up here, and no more reading and writing. Speak girl. Do you understand me?’

  Yes, Biddy understood all right, but she couldn’t answer, or she wouldn’t answer, and so Jessie put in hastily, ‘I’ll see that she doesn’t, mad…’

  ‘Shut up, Hobson! Let her answer for herself. Do you understand me, girl?’

  ‘Yes, madam. I understand you perfectly.’

  The words were spoken in a way that Percival Miller would have approved of, and they caused the old lady to sit back on her chair and to close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she stared at the flushed face before her, the brown eyes looking straight into hers, and her voice was deceptively soft as she said, ‘You understand me; that’s good. But do you mean to obey me?’