by Rose Meddon
If the note to Ma wasn’t solely Pamela Russell’s idea, it meant that someone else also bore her ill will. But who? She could safely discount Aunt Diana, who, only last night, had thanked her for the discreet route she had taken to obtain her help. And she had no quarrel with the Fillinghams – nor they with her. So that really only left the Colbornes.
Wearily, she leant back against the wall of the house. Being Miss Naomi’s lady’s maid had come to mean everything to her – and not just because it provided her with titbits about Ned. But, if she was ever to be re-instated, she would need to prove her innocence. Knowing what she did about the Colbornes, she wouldn’t put it past them to have had a hand in it somewhere. To her mind, all of the Colbornes – with the exception of Lawrence – had small and shifty eyes. Especially Mrs Colborne. Cicely Colborne. Yes, that might make sense. If Cicely Colborne was to see her beloved Aubrey wed to Miss Naomi, after the goings-on of last night, a number of things were going to need to be either explained away or else swept under the carpet. At the very least, Aubrey’s reputation would need buffing up. He would have to be made to appear blameless, which would mean either sacrificing poor Lawrence or else implicating Miss Naomi as having been in some way responsible – perhaps for leading him on. They couldn’t besmirch her character too much but they could claim she had fallen under the influence of someone unsuitable. And who better to blame for putting ideas into Miss Naomi’s head than her lady’s maid, a poor unfortunate who Pamela Russell had probably already admitted to mistrusting. Yes, although in some ways it was difficult to believe, in others, it made perfect sense. Cicely Colborne might look frail but, penny to a pound, behind that feeble appearance beat a cold and calculating heart. Needing to distract from Aubrey’s behaviour, she had settled upon the perfect scapegoat, one whose supposed role as a bad influence didn’t even have to be specific: she was a servant; no one would question that she had played some part in it, nor would they believe a word she uttered in her defence. She could even imagine Cicely Colborne pressing her case – wasting no time last night in pouncing upon Mrs Russell’s already emotional state. ‘I blame that maid, Pamela. You know what a poor influence servants can be. Allow me to deal with her for you.’
Well, if things were as she had just supposed, there was probably little she could do about it – certainly not without risking more trouble. Of greater importance was her plan regarding Ned, which, if she went out of her way to keep clear of further trouble, still stood a chance of coming together. And so, to that end, she would somehow swallow her pride, sit on her anger, and do nothing in haste.
Her course of action decided, she nevertheless heaved a vexed sigh. At least it was still early – an age yet until Ma expected to see her at work in the kitchen. The kitchen. Edith gloating. The prospect alone was almost more than she could bear.
Pushing herself away from the wall, her eyes came to rest upon movement at the far side of the lawn. She squinted. Coming towards her was Aunt Diana, the bottom few inches of her long robe dark with the dampness it had soaked up from the grass. She was drifting serenely, her progress that of someone with nowhere in particular to go and no set hour by which to be there. Well, lucky her.
With no desire to be drawn into making polite conversation, Kate remained where she was and hoped not to be seen. In a minute, she would go down to the cove; this early in the morning it would be lovely and peaceful, a few moments of stillness something she suddenly craved. Somehow, in what felt to be nothing more than the blink of an eye, her existence had gone from being filled with promise to beyond despair. If she was no longer to be Miss Naomi’s maid, all sorts of doors – and routes to Ned – would be closed to her. The irony wasn’t lost on her: in those first few days after the Russells had arrived, she would have given almost anything to be spared the job. Now, though, she was going to miss it terribly. And the worst of it was that for once in her life, the trouble that had brought about her dismissal wasn’t even of her own making.
When, eventually, she looked up from her contemplations, it was to see that Diana Lloyd was coming towards her, her hand raised in greeting. ‘Good morning,’ she called ahead.
Feeling her shoulders sag, Kate gave a half-hearted wave. Bother. Now she was going to have to make conversation. ‘Good day to you, Mrs Lloyd,’ she nevertheless summoned a smile and answered.
‘I see I come upon a likeminded soul enjoying the beauty and stillness of first light.’ At Aunt Diana’s incorrect observation, Kate gave a wry smile. ‘I can’t abide lying in bed on mornings like this.’ Again, Kate smiled. ‘Still, don’t suppose you have much say in the matter. Quick breath of fresh air before you must embark upon your daily toils?’
Unable to help it, Kate made a little scoffing noise. ‘I was sent out to reflect on my behaviour.’
‘Ah.’
There was something about Diana Lloyd’s languid movements and soothing manner that made Kate feel less taut in her own limbs. Already, the tension in her neck was softening and she was breathing more slowly. While she didn’t know Diana Lloyd, she did have a sense that she would be a sympathetic listener. And, while Ma had warned her to stay away from Miss Naomi and Mrs Russell, she had said nothing about Aunt Diana.
‘But it’s hard to reflect on anything when I know I wasn’t in the wrong.’
‘It is rather, isn’t it?’
‘Truthfully, Mrs Lloyd, on this occasion, I know I didn’t do wrong.’
‘Tell me, Kate, do you have time to make a circuit of the lawn with me?’
Feeling less than comfortable to be so openly in the company of one of the guests, Kate glanced back to the house. In this instance, it wasn’t a question of having the time – it was more about the risk of being seen. Although, with her mother ensconced below stairs – by her own admission more busy than usual – and Edith supervising the breakfasts, perhaps she would take a chance. After all, how much more trouble was it really possible to bring down on herself?
‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘But, if we’re to go a-walking on the grass, would you mind waiting whilst I take off my shoes? It might be better I didn’t go back in with them all sodden from the dew.’
‘Not at all, my dear. Were I wearing any, I might do the same.’
Not sure whether to believe that Diana Lloyd was barefoot, Kate glanced down, only to see that her feet – shod or otherwise – were hidden by the bottom of her robe.
‘Let me guess,’ Diana Lloyd picked up as they started across the lawn. ‘You’re being implicated in last night’s little upset.’
‘Yes! And yet all I did was go to Miss Naomi’s aid.’
‘I know, my dear. Of the various accounts from last night, to my mind, there’s only one that bears scrutiny.’
‘It didn’t help that when I went for help, I came across grumpy old Mr Colborne. If I’d found Ned – Mr Edwin, it might all have turned out different. As it was, for reasons I can’t put my finger upon, Mr Colborne took straight against me.’
Dangling her shoes from her fingers, Kate was surprised to feel Diana Lloyd reach for her free hand and tuck it under her arm. It was such an unexpected and kindly gesture that she found herself biting back tears.
‘Kate, my dear, when it comes to my niece and nephew, many’s the occasion I have felt moved to intervene. However, with families being the precariously stitched tapestries that they are, rarely would doing so have made a situation any better. Indeed, often, it would have served only to weaken fraying bonds. And so, where matters of family are concerned, I have long since resolved not to meddle – no matter the apparent injustices of a situation. That said, while you won’t find me rushing to take up arms on your behalf, you are welcome to avail yourself of my impartial ear. So, why not tell me all about it – get it off your chest?’
Kate did have a deep longing to unburden herself. And so, with her unexpected confidante either nodding or murmuring her agreement, Kate recounted what had happened between Miss Naomi and Mr Aubrey, and then between Mr Aubrey and Mr Law
rence. And, just as she had indicated, although stopping short of offering suggestions as to redress, Diana Lloyd did agree that the outcome seemed unfair.
It was then that Kate spotted her chance to solve another mystery – as long as she could muster the courage to speak rather plainly about Diana Lloyd’s own sister.
‘When Mrs Russell got all upset,’ she began, her words chosen with the greatest of care, ‘she addressed me by the wrong name – Sadie Jennings, I think she called me. Yes, that was it. Did Mrs Russell get confused because I resemble this woman in some way? Is that what happened?’ Pleased with the way she had presented her question, she held her breath.
‘My dear, you resemble her only to the extent that you wear the uniform of a domestic servant. Apart from that, not greatly, no.’
‘Oh. So…’
‘But to answer you more helpfully,’ Diana Lloyd continued, her voice lowered, ‘Sadie Jennings was a young woman who, for a brief spell, was employed as lady’s maid to my sister. It all happened more than twenty years ago, shortly after I had married and gone from home. For that reason, I never actually met her. However, I do know that not only did she behave badly but that she also had a rather unfortunate influence upon my sister – who, needless to say, thought her a breath of fresh air. Miss Jennings didn’t last long, a hurried investigation into her past revealing that she had obtained the position under false pretences. More than that, all I feel able to say to you, even after the passing of so many years, is that her influence turned out to be an abiding one. The rest of the story, I leave you to imagine for yourself.’
A lady’s maid who’d had an abiding influence upon Pamela Russell? That seemed unlikely; Pamela Russell didn’t seem the sort to be swayed or influenced by anyone. Although perhaps, as a young woman, she hadn’t been so single-minded. She sighed. Intriguing though this story was, in the overall scheme of things, Mrs Russell’s crazed rantings were neither her problem nor, going forward, worth becoming distracted by. In all other respects – and despite her initial reservations – Diana Lloyd had been helpful. She had certainly made her feel less tense – not to mention vindicated. But, even with the matter of last night aired and put to bed, she found herself eager to keep talking. It was, she realized, the first time she’d had the ear of someone open-minded. And, as a result, her head seemed to have flooded with all the matters upon which, over recent weeks, she had grown desperate for advice.
‘So, it’s all right for me to pay no heed to what everyone else thinks?’ she said, the matter of Luke and his long-standing proposal of marriage, the topic to which she turned next.
‘Perfectly so. According to the law of the land, you are of age. When it comes to the matter of taking a husband, you are entitled to exercise free will.’
‘And it’s all right to want more from my life… and to go off in search of it?’ Deep down, she recognized that she was being selective with the truth, despite this being someone whose unbiased opinion she genuinely wanted to hear. But it would be tricky to admit that what she was really seeking license to do, was abandon Luke and pursue her dream of being with Ned. Nevertheless… ‘Only, how can I think of getting wed and raising up children – you know, teaching them all about life – when I’ve done nothing yet with my own? If you ask me, I should see a bit more of things for myself first.’
‘You would not be the first woman to anguish over that quandary. But, while many women would readily agree with you, few of them have the luxury of choice.’
Slowly, Kate shook her head. ‘No, I suppose not. But it’s all right that I don’t want to marry Luke and stay here and… be dull.’
Diana Lloyd smiled. ‘Dear girl, there is only one person who can know whether or not something is right for you. And that, of course, is you. That said, there are things that any woman considering a decision of such magnitude would do well to bear in mind. Take fear, for instance. Fear can lead one to put up barriers, can make one find reasons not to do something simply because avoiding it feels by far the less daunting prospect. But, whilst a little fear can be healthy, one shouldn’t let it hold one back.’
‘I do see that.’
‘On the other hand, one should never fool oneself, either. One should never blindly pin everything on a dream that has little chance of being realized or that ultimately, might prove just as unsuitable as the alternative – no matter how dull. To strive for something is admirable – just so long as one has a realistic chance of being able to bring it about and then, to abide by the outcome.’
‘I do see that too.’ Was it possible that Aunt Diana somehow knew what she had in mind to do? Had she seen her talking with Ned? Had she, perhaps, observed the way she behaved in his company? Sometimes when she was with him, she did come over all dewy-eyed: it was beyond her not to. The worry was that if Aunt Diana had noticed, then who else might have? Perhaps Pamela Russell had observed the same thing and was using the events of last night as an excuse to end her association not just with Naomi but also with Ned. Heavens, yes. It was more than possible.
When they arrived at the edge of the lawn and stepped onto the gravel of the driveway, Diana Lloyd released Kate’s hand, freeing her to slip her feet back into her shoes.
‘Kate, my dear, any life lived to the full will be littered with mistakes. Lord knows, I, for one, have made enough to last me the rest of my days. But you seem like a sensible young woman. Certainly, my niece speaks highly of you. She trusts you and she’s going to miss your companionship. So, for what it’s worth, I will offer you the same advice I would offer to her were she to seek it – trust your instincts. If something you are proposing to do is making you feel uneasy – guilty, even – trust those feelings and accept that, perhaps, what you’re considering isn’t quite right – either for you, or possibly even at all. Rely upon your instincts in the same way that you would a compass:, trust what it’s telling you and, more often than not, you will arrive where you’re supposed to be.’
Kate nodded her agreement to Diana Lloyd’s advice. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll try an’ remember that.’
‘Try also not to be too hard on your mother. It might not seem so at this precise moment, but hers is surely a life weighed by duty. She alone bears the responsibility for the running of this house, all the while wanting the best for her daughters, one of whom she sees struggling to find her way in the world.’
Although loathe to admit it, Kate could see the truth in Diana Lloyd’s observation. ‘I suppose it must be so, yes.’
‘But she seems to have equipped you well. From the manner in which you are considering what you should do, I have every confidence that you will decide wisely.’
Decide wisely. She wished she shared Aunt Diana’s faith. Even if she did decide wisely, it would be no thanks to her mother.
‘Thank you, Mrs Lloyd. I shall try to do that.’
‘Well, goodbye, my dear. And thank you for walking with me.’
For some long time after their conversation, Kate found it impossible to settle her thoughts. Having started the day feeling gloomy and despondent, she was now beginning to feel eager and hopeful once again – and desperate to advance her plan. According to Aunt Diana, wanting a different life wasn’t wrong, nor was it – although this was more by her own reckoning – unattainable. But, although she now knew what she wanted, deciding what to do next in order to bring it about felt less straightforward. What she did not want, was to go back indoors and take orders from Edith. So, in her new spirit of determination, she wouldn’t. Instead, she would go down to the cove, where, following Ma’s instructions to the letter, she would reflect upon her behaviour – except that she would reflect upon the behaviour she was going to adopt, not that for which Ma had (wrongly) held her accountable. From now on, she would stand up to the pair of them – her mother and her sister – and not let them bully her down a path she didn’t want to go.
* * *
Si-si-si-si-doo, si-si-si-si-doo. From somewhere in the lush canopy, Kate could hear tomtits c
alling to one another, their chatter switching sharply to calls of alarm when they evidently spotted her intrusion into their territory. Having picked her way through the birch trees to arrive deeper into the woodland, she fell still and looked up – not that she could expect to pick out such tiny creatures from among such dense foliage. Looking back down, she drew in a long breath. It was going to work out all right. She was going to have a different life. She was going to shed her yoke of servitude. Mrs Russell might have taken deeply against her, but now she was more determined than ever to marry Ned.
Now well beyond sight of the house, she lifted her skirt clear of her ankles and scampered through the trees. Despite the lack of a proper path she made rapid progress, able to dodge the stumpy oaks and gnarly hawthorns as easily as a startled roe deer. From almost twenty years of adventuring, she knew which brakes of bracken hid moss-covered boulders to send the unwary sprawling, and which of them concealed heart-stoppingly sudden drops. She knew where the paths down the slope became lethal after a fall of rain, and where the stretches beneath the trees became boggy enough to suck your boots clean from your feet. No one, she was certain, could cover the ground as quickly and as unscathed as she could, not even Luke.
Two-thirds of the way down between the gardens and the shore, the land dropped away more quickly and, where the trees yielded to the ferocity of the winter gales off the Atlantic, the cove opened wide before her. Today, it looked idyllic, the hills to either side resembling patchwork bedspreads, the soft green of the springy turf flecked, threaded, and splashed with low mounds of pale pink thrift, golden birds-foot trefoil, and rust-coloured kidney-vetches. She stood for a moment, surprised to find that the mist had now evaporated and that before her, under the boldest of July skies, the sands, slowly baking to a crisp and salty crust under the midday sun, were being lapped by the most benign of seas.
