Sunday sighed. ‘Sorry, I just feel … Oh, I don’t know. What did you think of them?’
‘I thought they were quite charming, so stop worrying,’ he chided gently. He knew how much his wife cared about the children in their care and how hard it would be for her to let one of them go, but even so he believed it would be in the child’s best interest.
‘Hmm, I’m not so sure now,’ Sunday answered, hanging on to her hat. ‘Didn’t you feel they were a little … reserved?’ she shouted above the roar of the engine, wishing again that they’d come in the pony and trap. It was almost impossible to have a conversation in this dratted automobile.
‘What?’ Tom shouted back and Sunday lapsed into silence. Perhaps it would be better to wait until they got home to voice her concerns.
Chapter Five
Em’ly met them at the door and took their hats and coats when they arrived back at Treetops. Seeing the look on their faces, she said, ‘I’ll go and fetch you a nice cup of tea, shall I? You look frozen through.’
Sunday couldn’t help but notice the difference between her staff and those at the Daweses’ house in Witherley. Here it was hard to distinguish who was the mistress and who was the maid, which was just as Sunday liked it. But at the other house, it had struck her how all the staff crept about like shadows – as if they were afraid of bringing Mrs Dawes’s wrath down upon their heads. Could it be that the woman wasn’t quite as meek and mild as she made out?
As if he could read her mind, Tom stepped over to the fire and said, ‘All right then, madam, out with it! There’s obviously something worrying you.’
Sunday frowned as she gazed out of the window at the few children who had ventured out into the snow. The whole house was still in mourning for Zillah and it was unusually quiet.
‘You … you don’t think that Mr and Mrs Dawes are just trying to replace their dead daughter, do you?’
Tom looked shocked. ‘What a terrible thing to say,’ he scolded gently. ‘You of all people should know how strong a woman’s urge is to have a child.’ The second the words had left his lips, he could have bitten his tongue out as Sunday’s face fell and tears started to her eyes.
‘Oh, pet, I didn’t mean that how it came out,’ he apologised, crossing to her and placing his arm about her shoulders.
She forced a smile. ‘It’s all right. It’s probably just me being silly. Go and park your car up then come back and have some tea. You’ll only fret if you leave it outside.’
Tom hesitated then nodded and left the room. He’d had the doors taken off one of the stables so that the car could be parked under cover. Left alone, Sunday wandered over to the fire and stared into the flickering flames. The references the Daweses had produced from some very influential people had been faultless. They all said what a wonderful mother they thought Stella Dawes would make. The house had been beautiful too and yet … Sunday sighed, wondering why something didn’t feel quite right. Also, Mr Dawes made her feel uneasy – not that he had said a single word out of place. But then with an effort she gave herself a mental shake. You’re just jealous because you’ve cared for Maggie since she was a baby, she told herself. Come on, admit it! Of course the child deserved the chance to be a part of a normal family! Feeling slightly better, she poured out the tea and waited for Tom to return.
The following afternoon, when the Daweses were shown into the drawing room, Sunday sat opposite them, her hands folded primly in her lap, trying to ignore the shrieks of laughter coming from the hall.
‘I do apologise for the noise,’ she told her visitors. ‘Now that the snow has started to thaw we thought it best if the children played inside today. I’m afraid they can be rather boisterous.’
Tom was standing by her side. Normally he would leave things like this to his wife and her mother, but Lavinia was still in deep mourning for Zillah and he felt that Sunday might need a little support.
‘Should I bring Maggie in for you to meet her?’ he suggested.
Stella Dawes nodded excitedly. Tom strode to the door and after peering up and down the corridor he spotted Maggie playing with a dolly on the bottom stair.
‘Ah, Maggie, pet. Come and meet Mr and Mrs Dawes,’ he encouraged.
Maggie was surprised. She wasn’t usually invited to meet the guests but she did as she was told all the same and, carrying her doll, she headed for Tom, who gave her a wink and led her by the hand into the drawing room.
Mrs Dawes had risen and was standing in front of the fireplace, watching the door avidly for her first glimpse of the child who might become her daughter. However, her reaction wasn’t at all what Sunday had hoped for. In fact, her face fell when confronted with the little girl.
‘Mrs Dawes, this is Margaret, or Maggie as we call her. Maggie, this is Mr and Mrs Dawes.’ Tom introduced them and Maggie smiled at the woman. She thought the pearl-coloured silk day dress the lady was wearing was very pretty and so was she.
‘How do you do, ma’am,’ Maggie said politely as she had been taught.
At last Mrs Dawes moved towards her with her hand outstretched. ‘How do you do, Margar … I mean Maggie.’ What a plain little girl, she was thinking as she stared at the child’s mousy brown hair and plump figure. But then she supposed she could always force a few curls if she tied rags in her hair each evening and the child would soon lose a little weight if they were to cut out cakes and treats. She would certainly be much easier on the eye then. And as this was the only child she was being offered …
Maggie was waiting, looking puzzled, as the woman continued to stare at her. The child was completely oblivious as to why she was there, so Sunday quickly stepped in and explained. ‘We visited Mr and Mrs Dawes a short time ago, Maggie dear, and when we told them what a good girl you could be, they expressed a wish to meet you. Isn’t that nice?’
Maggie’s little face was transformed then when she flashed the woman a smile and stuck her chest out. No one had ever come to see her before, as far as she could remember, and it made her feel very special. Usually when they had visitors they spent their time fawning over Kitty.
‘I can count to ten,’ she told Mrs Dawes solemnly and was rewarded when the woman dropped to her level.
‘Well, what a clever girl you are,’ she praised her and Sunday sighed with relief. It appeared that the awkward introductions were over.
‘Why don’t you stay and have a chat to Mr and Mrs Dawes while Sunday and I go and fetch a tray of tea, eh?’ Tom suggested then, the soul of tact.
Maggie nodded happily enough so he took his wife’s elbow and steered her out of the room.
‘What did you have to go and do that for?’ Sunday hissed when they were in the hallway.
‘Stands to common sense they need to get used to each other,’ he pointed out. ‘And they’re not going to feel completely at ease with us hovering over them, are they?’
‘I suppose not,’ Sunday admitted grudgingly. ‘But we’ll only leave them for ten minutes. That should be long enough for them to decide whether they want her or not.’
Tom frogmarched her off to the kitchen to sit by the roaring range and chat to Cook, and for now Maggie and the Daweses were left in peace.
Sunday paced up and down like a cat on hot bricks until Tom eventually said, ‘Right, I think we could go back in now.’
They re-entered the drawing room, carrying a tray, to find Maggie and Mr Dawes in conversation while Mrs Dawes looked on from her seat by the fire.
‘Ah, Maggie here was just telling me all about the cats you have and Barney the dog. I’ve always fancied having a dog myself but I haven’t been able to persuade Stella up to now.’
His wife visibly shuddered at the thought. ‘They’re such smelly, dirty creatures,’ she said, giving Sunday another thing to worry about.
‘Oh, what a shame you feel that way,’ Sunday said sweetly as she strained the tea into the cups. She had brought out her favourite tea-set, which had been a wedding present from Mrs Spooner, the dear soul she had gone t
o work for when she eventually left the workhouse. It was made of very fine bone china with delicate blue forget-me-nots hand-painted all over it. ‘Maggie is very fond of animals,’ she ended with emphasis.
Mrs Dawes had the grace to blush as Sunday turned her attention to Maggie, saying, ‘Why don’t you go back to play now, pet? I think I saw Ben looking for you.’
At the mention of Ben, Maggie was off like a shot. Once they were alone again Sunday asked the couple, ‘So, what did you think of her?’
Mr Dawes glanced at his wife before saying cautiously, ‘I thought she was a delightful child. What did you think, dear?’
‘I think she would be very happy with us,’ she answered, then addressing Sunday and Tom: ‘Would you consider letting us take her? I can assure you she would want for nothing.’
Sunday still had a bad feeling about this – some gut instinct that warned her things were not quite as they should be … and yet outwardly she had no reason to deny them.
‘If you are quite sure? You must appreciate this is a very serious decision. It would do Maggie irreparable harm if you were to take her then change your mind.’
‘That won’t happen, I assure you. If she comes to us she will have a home for life,’ Mrs Dawes promised. ‘Now what do we do next?’
‘I think perhaps we should talk to Maggie again first and see how she feels about it. However, I suppose there’s no time like the present if you’ve really made up your mind. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little more time to think about it?’
The couple both shook their heads. They appeared to be of one mind. Sunday nodded at Tom, asking, ‘Would you mind asking Maggie to step inside again, love?’
‘Of course not.’ Tom disappeared to return minutes later with Maggie, who was wondering what was going on by now. Why did Sunday and Tom keep wanting her to spend time with their visitors? They hadn’t asked any of the other children to meet them.
‘Ah, here you are again, pet.’ Sunday forced a note of joviality into her voice as she patted the seat at the side of her. ‘I have something to tell you. Come and sit here by me.’
Maggie obediently did as she was told as Sunday cleared her throat and began, ‘The thing is, Mr and Mrs Dawes here are looking for a little girl to go and live with them, and as it happens they’ve taken a great shine to you.’
‘To me?’ Maggie looked astounded. Most of the people who visited always fell in love with Kitty because she was the prettiest. She then surveyed the couple solemnly and a big smile broke out on her face. ‘So if I came to live with you, would you be my mummy and daddy?’
‘Yes, I suppose we would,’ Mrs Dawes answered. ‘Do you think you might like that?’
Maggie thought about it for a minute. It would mean leaving Sunday and Tom and all her friends, but then it would be lovely to have a real mummy and daddy of her very own. As she thought of it she began to tremble with excitement, but then as it began to sink in she asked, ‘Would I be able to come back and see everybody sometimes?’
It was Mr Dawes who answered with a smile, ‘I don’t see why not. We don’t live all that far away, as it happens.’
‘Hmm.’ Maggie imagined how jealous Kitty would be when she told her that the Daweses had chosen her and she beamed. ‘In that case I think I’d like that.’
Sunday suddenly panicked. Everything was happening a little too quickly for her liking.
‘Perhaps Tom and I could take you to visit Mr and Mrs Daweses’ home so that you can see it before you make up your mind?’ she intervened.
‘All right.’ Maggie frowned then as something occurred to her. ‘Will I share my bedroom? And do you have a dog?’
Again, it was Mr Dawes who answered. ‘Yes, you will have your very own room and no, we don’t have a dog at the minute but I dare say we could get you one.’ He knew that his wife wouldn’t be very keen on that idea, but if it made the child happy, the way he saw it, it was a small price to pay.
‘In that case, I’d like to come and see your house,’ Maggie informed him, then bursting to tell Kitty and the others the exciting news she skipped from the room leaving the grown-ups to arrange the visit.
Chapter Six
Maggie could hardly wait to impart her exciting news to the rest of the children, but if she had been hoping for jealous tantrums she was sadly disappointed.
‘A new mummy and daddy?’ said Kitty, who was cuddling her birthday doll, Annabelle. ‘That’s nice for you.’
Maggie was put out at her reaction. ‘It’s better than nice. They chose me because they liked me the best,’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘And I’m going to have a bedroom all to myself and Mr Dawes – I mean my new daddy – said I could have a dog too!’
‘That’s nice,’ Kitty repeated as Ben approached them.
‘What’s this I’m hearin’ then?’ he enquired of Maggie, ruffling her hair. She hastily told him and he whistled through his teeth. ‘Well, that’s brilliant, ain’t it? I hope you’ll be happy, little ’un.’
‘Of course I shall be happy,’ Maggie answered waspishly, knocking her wobbly front tooth back into place with her tongue. She was hoping it would come out soon because Sunday had told her that when it did, if she left it under her pillow, the tooth fairies would come and take it and leave her a new shiny penny. She hoped they knew their way to her new home. At four and a half years old she really had no comprehension of the enormity of what was about to happen to her. She was due to move from everything and everyone that was familiar to her! However, for now she could only gloat because the Daweses had chosen her to be their little girl rather than Kitty.
Ben knew that Maggie could be a right little madam when she wanted to be, but he still had a soft spot for her and would miss her when she went.
‘So when will you be leaving us then?’ he asked, and eyes still firmly fixed on Kitty, Maggie shrugged.
‘Don’t know yet. Sunday and Tom are taking me for a visit to my new home first, then I s’ppose I’ll go.’
He bent to give her a little squeeze. ‘That’s grand then … but we’ll miss you.’
This from her idol brought tears springing to Maggie’s eyes. It was just beginning to sink in now, that she really was going to live in a new house – and suddenly she felt a little apprehensive. What if she didn’t like living with her new family? Would Sunday and Tom let her come home? And Treetops was the only home she’d ever known up to now. She would even miss Kitty, although she wouldn’t tell her that. Feeling suddenly deflated, the little girl turned about and went to cadge another biscuit off Cook.
Two days later, Maggie set off with Sunday and Tom in the big motor car. The rest of the children and the staff had been informed that she might be leaving them, and some of them stood on the steps to wave them off, making Maggie feel very important. She nestled down onto the back seat of the Daimler with a warm rug tucked firmly about her legs and sat back to enjoy the ride.
Her first sight of the Daweses’ home impressed her and she wished that Kitty were there to see it. In fact, she found herself almost wishing that Kitty could come with her. It certainly looked very grand and there seemed to be a whole army of gardeners working in the grounds.
The door was opened by a straight-faced woman with a hooked nose who wore a chatelaine about her waist containing a number of keys that jingled musically when she moved. She reminded Maggie of a scary witch.
‘Come in,’ she said in a clipped voice with no word of welcome. ‘Mr and Mrs Dawes are expecting you.’ She looked down on Maggie then, and the child shrank into Sunday’s side.
‘She must be the housekeeper,’ Sunday whispered to Maggie as they followed her across the hallway. Maggie’s eyes were like saucers as she gazed around at the spotlessly clean and tidy house. It was a far cry from Treetops, with its homely atmosphere, and it was very grand.
‘Ah, Margaret, here you are,’ Mrs Dawes said with a smile when the housekeeper had shown them into the drawing room. ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Branning. Do sit down, I’v
e ordered coffee for us all. Do you like coffee, Margaret? Or perhaps you would prefer some milk?’
‘I like coffee,’ Maggie answered, her voice little more than a squeak. Then as the grown-ups began to chat she surveyed the room, thinking again how tidy it was and how quiet. It was never quiet at Treetops – and again, little doubts began to creep in. Who would she have to play with here? She suddenly became aware of Mr Dawes watching her, and when she had caught his eye he winked at her.
‘How about you, me and Tom go out to the stables to see the horses while the ladies have a chat?’ he asked kindly.
Maggie willingly took the hand he offered.
‘Now don’t go letting her get into a state,’ his wife warned when they had all reached the door. ‘I know what you’re like when you get around those horses of yours.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.’ There was a twinkle in his eye when he winked at Maggie again and, heartened, she gladly escaped with him.
After an enthralling half-hour spent giving sugar lumps to the horses and being nuzzled by their velvety noses, which made her giggle, Maggie was given a tour of the house by Stella and shown the bedroom that was to be hers. Her eyes instantly lit on the doll’s house and crossing to it she began to finger the tiny dolls and the perfectly carved miniature furniture inside it.
‘Oh, do be careful with that, dear,’ Stella Dawes said worriedly. ‘That has been in my family for some time and I’d hate it to be damaged.’
What was the point of putting such a lovely thing in a small child’s room and expecting her not to touch it? Sunday thought crossly. It was like putting a dish of strawberries down in front of a donkey and telling him not to eat them, but she held her tongue. She had wrestled with herself over the last few days but had finally decided that apart from the little niggles of doubt she had had about Mr and Mrs Dawes – probably quite unfounded – there was nothing to suggest that Maggie wouldn’t be perfectly happy here. Little Arthur, whom she had placed with a new family, was thriving happily, so she must give Maggie the same chance.
The Little Angel Page 5
