by Lyn Andrews
‘I know, Mam, but she’s sort of let the whole thing … take over,’ Iris agreed.
‘Grow out of all proportion in my opinion. That Miss Elinore Rhys-Pritchard didn’t cause as much fuss over her wedding as Florence is. Ethel should sit her down and give her a good talking to.’
Iris sighed, nodding her agreement for Rose had written that although Elinore had worn a beautiful dress of heavy white brocade, a silk tulle veil and headdress of tiny silk flowers and had looked lovely, it had all been very quiet and tasteful and as Miss Olivia had organised everything her sister had not got upset or worried about a single thing. She wondered if she should try to impress that fact upon her friend but doubted that Florence would take much notice.
Charlie too was getting a little impatient with all the fuss and although he was looking forward to getting married the actual day was beginning to look more and more like an endurance test. He’d been more concerned with finding a suitable house for them to live in. It certainly hadn’t been easy but at last he’d found something – only for Ethel to start making adverse comments about the area. He was trying to keep Florence’s enthusiasm bolstered up. She’d liked the house and the neighbourhood and they’d spent quite some time wandering from room to room and Florence had debated where they would put furniture and what colour curtains they should have and he’d felt content that they were both considering it as ‘home’. He would be glad when the wedding was over and they could actually start their life together.
Christmas had passed in something of a blur, Rose thought as she made up the fire in the dining room while Nancy folded back the shutters and announced gloomily that it looked like snow. They had all been extremely busy over the Christmas and New Year holiday for there had seemed to be guests arriving and departing constantly. She hadn’t spent any time alone with David Rhys-Pritchard over the holiday, in fact during the times when she had seen him there had always been company present. She’d missed reading to him
They had all received a gift of money from him on Christmas Morning – apparently it was traditional – and after the family lunch had been served and the family had adjourned to the Blue Drawing Room, a cold collation had been prepared by Cook to be set out in the dining room for supper – another festive tradition to give the staff some leisure time. They had then all eaten their Christmas dinner together in the servants’ hall, Mr Lewis carving the goose and Henry filling their glasses with either sherry or Madeira wine.
She had been tired but happy when she’d at last cycled back to Gwen’s cottage to hear all about Gwen’s day, which had been spent with Bob and Megan and the boys. And then there had been the preparations for Miss Elinore’s wedding and the wedding itself and so the first month of the New Year had passed quickly.
‘I hope it doesn’t stick,’ she replied, crossing to look out of the window at the flakes that had started to fall. She certainly didn’t want to have to stay overnight and it wasn’t just that that attic room was freezing. Whenever she was in David’s company now she felt awkward and unhappy. The easy friendship they’d shared over the past months had somehow changed.
She had obtained a new crime novel, and they had started to read it but hadn’t progressed very far. Now he seemed to spend more time dealing with Evan Price and matters concerning the estate and when she did read he seemed preoccupied and a little distant, although last time when she’d finished the chapter she’d looked up and had caught him looking at her with undisguised affection, which had suddenly changed to sadness. She’d quickly looked away.
Nancy’s voice broke into her reverie. ‘It might not. At least this is the last month of winter. Have you heard from your mam and Iris?’
‘I had a letter yesterday and I’m glad I’m not there, Nancy. Florence seems to be driving everyone mad. Mam’s digging her heels in over her outfit, Iris says, and they’ll all be glad when it’s over. Charlie has found a house for them to rent though, so I suppose that’s a blessing.’
Nancy nodded and then smiled. ‘Miss Elinore – I mean Mrs Williams – seems to be happy enough. I thought she looked very well when she was over last week.’ She looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I think that it’s got a lot to do with Miss Olivia not trying to “organise” her all the time.’
‘Hush!’ Rose hissed but Nancy just shrugged and went to help Beryl with the breakfast tray.
To her consternation it snowed heavily all morning and into the afternoon and it became clear that she wouldn’t be able to get back to the village that evening. Nora had developed a heavy cold the previous day and was far from well, so the housekeeper insisted that she sit in the warmth of the kitchen with a hot toddy and instructed Rose to serve Mr Dai’s tea in the parlourmaid’s place. Rose had no option but to do so.
He was sitting staring out of the French doors at the blanket of white that stretched for as far as the eye could see.
‘Nora isn’t well, she’s got a terrible cold,’ Rose announced, placing the tray on a table and preparing to pour the tea from the silver pot.
David turned in surprise. ‘Rose! I thought Mrs Mathews would have sent you home hours ago. The road to the village will be impassable by now. I telephoned Evan Price two hours ago and told him not to try to come up to the house today.’
‘I’ll have to stay then but I’m sure Miss Olivia will telephone Miss Roberts to let her know. I had to stay one night last year. It’s not too much of an inconvenience,’ she lied.
He smiled at her. ‘Then perhaps after supper you could read to me?’
Rose nodded, smiling back as she handed him the delicate bone-china cup and saucer. If she had to stay at least it would be more interesting to read a few more chapters than sit in the servants’ hall listening to Nancy, Cook and Beryl gossiping and complaining. Poor Nora, she was sure, would go to bed as soon as she could. ‘I’d like that,’ she agreed.
‘It’s inconvenient but it looks beautiful, doesn’t it?’ he said, his gaze turning back to the scene beyond the windows.
‘It does. Snow seems to make even ugly things look pretty,’ Rose replied, thinking how the snow softened the outlines of the narrow, soot-blackened streets of terraced houses and the ugly dock warehouses in Liverpool. ‘I’ll collect the tray later,’ she added, for he continued to stare out across the terrace and the gardens, seemingly mesmerised by their tranquil beauty. She was unaware that his thoughts were not on the cold winter landscape but upon the brief time she would spend with him that evening: time that would be bittersweet because lately he had been refusing to allow himself the indulgence of her company on a regular basis. It was too painful; his feelings for her were too deep and he knew he would be cast into despondency after she’d gone back to the servants’ hall, leaving him alone with his thoughts and turbulent emotions.
As she made her way back to the kitchen Rose thought sadly that before Christmas she would have been delighted to spend the winter evening with him but now it would be something of an ordeal to sit with him in that warm, comfortable, familiar room and have to hide her feelings. Oh, it was so hard, she thought, seeing him every day, knowing she loved him but knowing also that she could never betray by a word, a look or a gesture how she felt. It was making her life here so hard, so very hard to bear now, and tonight she would have to spend the night beneath the same roof as him. She had the feeling that she would cry herself to sleep. She wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. Oh, why had it had to snow? she thought miserably as she pushed open the green baize door that led to the kitchen and the servants’ hall.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IT WASN’T POSSIBLE FOR ROSE to get back to the village for two more days. Gwen, knowing how much the girl disliked sleeping in that cold little room under the eaves, had asked her brother to go on his tractor to collect Rose that evening. It was the only vehicle that could manage the snow in the narrow lane.
Rose had spent two very cold and miserable nights, shivering beneath the blankets and trying not to think about David, so she
was relieved when Henry informed her that Bob Roberts had arrived to take her back to the village.
‘Make sure you wrap up warm, Rose, we don’t want you going down with a cold too,’ Mrs Mathews instructed for Nora had been confined to bed yesterday. Rose didn’t look well, she thought and she had been very subdued these past two days, plus her eyes looked red and puffy which she viewed as an early symptom of Nora’s cold. ‘Beryl, get Mr Roberts a cup of tea while he’s waiting,’ she instructed.
‘I’d be glad of one, Mona, thanks. It’s still bitter out there but me having driven up and down that lane a couple of times will have made it more passable now. I’m afraid Rose will have to walk here in the morning though, I’ve the beasts to attend to, see. We’ve dried off most of the dairy herd so the milking doesn’t take as long but a few of them have started to calve now so there’s still plenty to do. This weather certainly doesn’t help,’ he informed the housekeeper. ‘Still, I reckon it should have all melted by the end of the week if not sooner.’ He took the mug from Beryl, cupping his cold hands around it.
When Rose reappeared, dressed in her heavy coat and wearing hat, scarf and gloves, he finished the tea and handed the mug back to the kitchen maid and then ushered Rose out. ‘Soon get you home, luv, and Gwennie said to tell you she’s got a beef stew with dumplings waiting which will warm you up.’
Rose nodded thankfully as he helped her up on to the tractor, at least she would be warm tonight, she thought, and hopefully she might get some sleep. She felt exhausted and emotionally drained.
Gwen quickly noticed that she wasn’t her usual self although after they’d had supper Rose did look less pinched and weary. ‘I gather you didn’t get much sleep up there? Well, there’s an extra quilt on the bed and I’ve put a hot-water bottle in it too to warm it up.’
Rose nodded her thanks, staring morosely into the fire.
‘What’s the matter, cariad? There’s something wrong, isn’t there, apart from you being tired out.’ She hadn’t failed to notice that Rose had hardly mentioned David Rhys-Pritchard these last couple of weeks.
‘I’ll be all right after a good night’s sleep in a warm bed,’ Rose replied rather unconvincingly. If she told Gwen what was really wrong she would sound such a fool, such a stupid little fool for falling in love with someone like him.
‘Has something happened, Rose, between … you and Mr Dai? You don’t mention him at all now,’ Gwen persisted. She was determined to get to the bottom of this. She hated to see Rose so unhappy.
‘No. He … he’s been busy with Evan Price and estate matters and we’ve had all the extra work with Christmas and the wedding.’
‘But that was weeks ago now, Rose,’ Gwen reminded her. ‘Things should have settled down again, surely? But I’m sure everyone will be pleased that he’s getting more involved with the estate. It’s been rather neglected these last years and Evan Price has been getting a bit too complacent, Bob says.’
Rose didn’t reply.
‘I think that in part you’ve been responsible for the improvement in him,’ Gwen mused shrewdly.
Rose shook her head. ‘Me? As Mam said I’m just a paid servant.’
Gwen frowned and poured herself another cup of tea. ‘That’s true but I thought you had become good friends as well.’
Rose was overcome by the realisation of just how that friendship had changed and the tears welled up in her eyes.
Gwen put down the cup and came and put her arms around the girl. ‘Rose, what’s happened? You’re very unhappy, cariad, any fool can see that. You’ve changed this last month. You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?’
Rose could only nod. Her throat felt as though it had closed over.
‘Oh, Rose! You poor love! Does he know? Does he realise? Has he encouraged you?’ Gwen gently stroked the girl’s dark hair, thinking sadly that this was just what Kate had feared. She had foolishly told her friend not to worry, that Rose was more sensible now, but she hadn’t reckoned on Rose’s feelings and now the girl was bitterly hurt.
‘No, he hasn’t encouraged me and I … I can’t tell him. I can’t let him even think … but it’s so hard, Gwen!’
Haltingly she told the older woman of the events of that afternoon before Christmas, of how she had come to realise that she loved him and of the way it had changed their friendship. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. I … I can’t go on like this,’ she finished, wiping away her tears with the handkerchief Gwen produced.
Gwen sighed. That was true enough: she would make herself ill. You could go home, back to Liverpool. Your mam would welcome you and so would Iris, you know that, and with Charlie moving out in a couple of months they’ll have plenty of room. You’d have to give them notice at Plas Idris and I don’t suppose they’ll be very pleased – and I’ll miss you terribly, cariad, but I can’t bear to see you so miserable. It will be a terrible strain for you to go on working up there and having to see him every day. Heart-breaking it would be and you’d not be giving yourself any chance to get over him.’
Rose didn’t say that she wondered if she would ever get over him but she did feel a little calmer for sharing her secret and her sorrow. She was thankful Gwen hadn’t reminded her of how foolish she’d been. ‘But I love it here, you know that. I loved Tregarron from the first minute I arrived …’
‘Sleep on it, Rose,’ Gwen urged. ‘After you come back tomorrow night we’ll talk about it all again, you’re exhausted and not just from lack of sleep.’ She knew that Rose now looked on Tregarron as home but with the way things stood and virtually no prospect of Rose finding alternative employment she felt there was little chance that Rose could stay on.
Thankfully overnight it started to thaw and in the morning the snow had virtually gone when Rose set out for Plas Idris. She had slept well despite knowing that she had a very difficult decision to make and that she would have to make it soon.
After lunch was over Mrs Mathews instructed her to go and get some fresh air. The girl was still looking peaky, she thought. ‘Take a walk around the garden, Rose, for half an hour. The weather is much milder today and it will put some colour back into your cheeks,’ she’d instructed. Both Nancy and Beryl looked to have caught the parlourmaid’s cold now and she didn’t want Rose going down with it too or the household would go completely to pot.
Rose put on her coat and hat and wandered disconsolately towards the rose garden, drab and bare now, and made her way to the rustic bench. She sat staring miserably at the house and grounds that she’d come to love. She knew in her heart that she really didn’t have a choice; she had to go home if she wanted to keep her sanity. But she would miss all this so much – and most of all she would miss him. If she had any hope of coming to terms with the fact that hers was a love that had no future, if she were to hang on to any shred of dignity and self-respect, she would have to hand in her notice. The thought of it was almost unbearable but she had to be resolute. She would speak to Mrs Mathews before she left this evening. She couldn’t spend another day in this state of heart-breaking limbo.
She rose slowly to her feet, clutching her coat tightly to her, half blinded by tears, and began to walk back. She had reached the end of the pathway that led to the terrace when she saw him coming towards her. Her heart dropped like a stone. She couldn’t face him but there was no alternative route back and, besides, he’d seen her.
‘Rose, I was looking for you. Mrs Mathews said she’d sent you out for some fresh air. I thought perhaps that if you could be spared …’ He suddenly noticed her distress. ‘What’s wrong, Rose? You’ve been crying.’
‘It’s nothing. I … I think I’ve got dust in my eye,’ she lied.
‘No, Rose, you’re upset. Let’s go back to the bench; they won’t mind you being out a little longer.’
Reluctantly she followed him back down the path and sat down again on the bench. Oh, this was going to be so hard but she had to do it. There was nothing else she could do.
‘What is it, Rose? Has s
omeone upset you? Have I upset you? please tell me!’ He hated to see her so troubled.
Rose shook her head. She had to keep her emotions, her tears and her voice under control. ‘I … I’m afraid I’m going to have to … leave Tregarron for … for good.’
Her words shocked him profoundly. He’d tried to keep his feelings hidden from her. He had agonised over what he felt for her. He’d fought many battles against his heart using reason and common sense but they were battles neither of those faculties had won. He loved her but how could anyone as lovely, as compassionate, as vivacious love him? He was a cripple, he was a burden. He would always need someone to look after him.
‘Why, Rose?’ he asked, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. ‘I … I thought you liked Tregarron.’
Rose couldn’t look at him. Tears were threatening to overwhelm her again. ‘I do! I love the space and the beauty of the countryside, the … peace, but I have to go. Really I do.’
‘Is it your mother?’
Rose was too upset to seize the lifeline he had given her. She shook her head. ‘No, Iris is caring for her.’
‘Then why, Rose? Please tell me, perhaps I can rectify whatever is wrong,’ he pleaded. He couldn’t face the thought of never seeing her again.
‘I … I can’t tell you, David. I can’t!’ She couldn’t keep the sob from her voice as she looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. The love she felt for him was clearly visible in that instant.
