The Cobweb Cage

by Marina Oliver

  But he'd repented, he'd changed, he was a good lad now, a son to be truly proud of, doing well in a good job with real prospects. It had just been the circumstances, his guilt over Ivy's accident that had led him astray. He'd made a mistake, that was all. A girl need only make one mistake and her life was ruined. She'd have to talk to Poppy soon, warn her. All her pleasure in Christmas and seeing Johnny was spoiled, and Mary tossed restlessly all night.

  *

  Mrs Dangerfield breathed a sigh of satisfaction when the servants sat down to their own dinner on Christmas day. Jim and Ethel had waited on the family, so Marigold had not yet seen the visitors. While Miss Baker took the children for a walk after their family dinner, Marigold ate in the kitchen.

  She looked and wondered at the lavish display. There was enough food here to feed her family for a week, and then they would have more and a greater variety than they had ever before seen.

  Afterwards, feeling in need of exercise to keep herself awake, Marigold decided to walk towards the river, hoping to meet the children coming back from their walk.

  Richard Endersby, also needing exercise, had left the house an hour earlier. The winter dusk was falling as he strolled back towards the house. He caught sight of Marigold first and slipped swiftly behind a convenient tree. He needed a few moments to analyse the strange emotions which assailed him.

  With her bright golden hair for once unbound and spread in rippling waves over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with the cold, and her blue eyes shining, she looked beautiful, wholesome and exciting. She glowed with a vitality and strength he instinctively recognised and was drawn to. Yet she was enticingly different from the girl who had made such an impression on him at the dinner party. He was still bewildered at the surge of fury he had felt when he discovered Edwin with her that night.

  It was the loose hair, he thought in some confusion, which changed her completely from a demure maiden into a lovely, enchanting girl. He longed to feel the silken locks brush his hands, his cheeks, his bare shoulders and chest.

  At the dinner party he'd felt a spark of interest, known a faint urge to discover more about her, to know what she was like beneath her neat, starched uniform. Her oval face, high forehead, and neat straight nose made her classically beautiful, but the way she'd bitten her lip, the vulnerable look in her wide set eyes as the meat dish had almost been knocked from her grasp, had caused a wave of protectiveness to sweep over him. Now both urges, to know and protect her, intensified. He had no understanding of why he was so moved – only that it was a significant moment in his life.

  As Marigold approached Richard stepped out onto the path.

  'Good afternoon.'

  She swung round and looked up into dark, smiling eyes. His sudden appearance sent a series of shivering shocks through her body. Her mouth dry, her breath caught somewhere behind her ribs, her hands suddenly clammy, she stood transfixed, a golden butterfly impaled on a silver pin.

  'I was hoping to meet the children. Have you seen them?' she asked breathlessly.

  'No, but I heard Miss Baker say she was taking them the other way this afternoon. I believe she thought it was too damp by the river. It's getting dark, you shouldn't go down there alone. May I walk back with you?'

  She couldn't speak as they turned and walked slowly back.

  'I know you're called Marigold. Very appropriate with your glorious hair,' he said softly. 'I'm Richard Endersby. Professor Roberts is my tutor. He asked me to stay for Christmas because my parents are in America for a couple of months. Was that fate?'

  Bemused, Marigold shook her head. 'I don't know what you mean,' she confessed.

  Richard laughed. 'Never mind. Explanations are always tedious. You work for Mrs Roberts? With her children? Surely you're too young to be a nanny?'

  'I'm helping Miss Baker, a sort of under-nanny,' Marigold said.

  'Do you enjoy it? My brother's just a few years younger than I am, and I can remember only a dragon of a nanny before we had a governess. I don't think I've met one before.'

  'I doubt if there are many at your College!'

  He grinned. 'Unfortunately, if they're all as pretty as you. Does your family live in Oxford?'

  'I live in Hednesford. It's a small town in Staffordshire.'

  'I know it! I live in the same county, near Stoke-on-Trent, and my father keeps some horses at Rawnsley.'

  'With Mr Coulthwaite?'

  'Yes. How did you come to have a job so far away?'

  'Mom used to work for Mrs Nugent, she's Mrs Roberts' mother, and she spoke for me when Mrs Roberts wanted a maid,' Marigold explained breathlessly. 'It's better than anything I ever dreamed of doing!'

  'I wouldn't have thought young Eleanor and Peter were easy to manage.'

  'They're children! She can be a little devil at times – oh, I shouldn't have said that!'

  'Don't worry, I won't peach! Have you younger brothers and sisters?'

  Gradually Marigold relaxed. She talked eagerly of her family, and her work at Gordon Villa.

  It was dark, and they had strolled almost into the centre of Oxford before she recalled the time. Then she came back to earth.

  'They'll be looking for me!' she said, dismayed.

  'Why?'

  The simple question make her pause. Then she flushed, slowly but completely, as she thought of the comments Ethel would make if she knew she'd been walking all this time with one of the gentry, a guest at the house.

  'Marigold, you're not doing anything wrong,' he reassured her gently. 'We're both on our own, away from our families at Christmas, can't we talk to each other for a while?'

  She bit her lip. How could she explain?

  'Come on then, we'll go back.'

  As they turned into the gate she smiled quickly, and with a swift shy farewell vanished round the corner of the house towards the kitchen door.

  *

  Richard, suddenly deserted, found he did not wish to rejoin his hosts just yet. It was an icy, starlit night, bright enough to see the garden. He decided to walk some more. He was shaken, bemused, and at an unaccustomed loss.

  His first glimpse of Marigold had been when she was serving dinner. Her beauty, the pale clear skin and bright eyes, and upright slender young figure, had struck him then as unusual for a servant. Her low voice, musical and with very little accent, despite her nervousness at the near accident, enhanced his interest. Surely she came from a better class than most servants.

  After he'd rescued her from Edwin's attentions he'd been unable to forget her shy smile.

  Again, as he strolled in the garden, he was shaken by the urge to sweep her up and carry her away from harm. He smiled as the odd thought came to him. He'd never before felt the slightest need to protect any woman. Rather he had schemed to detach himself from overbearing, persistent women who tried to order his life. Doing precisely that had brought him to Gordon Villa now, visiting his tutor's family.

  It was a strange sequence of chance events, going back almost a year. Studying foreign languages, he'd elected to spend a year at German Universities. After a term at Munich he'd moved to Bonn, and from there obeyed a summons in February to visit his mother at Baden Baden.

  That had been a mistake. Slender, arrogantly beautiful, from one of the old New England families, Sophia Endersby was totally assured and accustomed to dominating her husband and sons. She took kindly to neither illness nor opposition.

  'I can't abide people who are always ailing,' she said over lunch. 'That's why I came here, to put myself right as quickly as possible. Fortunately another week should be enough and then I can go home.'

  'I'm pleased to see you almost back to normal,' Richard commented. 'I'd have come sooner if I'd known you were here.'

  'I didn't want to worry you. But now you are here you can accompany me to a small soiree tonight. I've met a most delightful family, from Boston. My sister's mother-in-law was some sort of cousin, and the Kentons are related to the Winthrops in some way. Very eligible.'

  'Mot
her, I'm sorry, but I must catch the train back this afternoon. I have an important lecture first thing tomorrow.'

  'Richard! How inconsiderate! I depended on you to escort me. I can manage without your father. He seems to imagine the business will collapse if he spends a few weeks away from it, but it would be nice to have an escort for once! It was hardly worth your coming if you meant to rush off again immediately.'

  'I'm sorry. If I'd known earlier you were here I could have managed a few days last week, but tonight is impossible.'

  'Why couldn't you have gone to somewhere more acceptable, like Heidleberg?' Sophia asked fretfully. 'Bonn is unheard of, so what good will it do you?'

  'They have teachers I want to study with.'

  'It's very perverse of you. I know everyone goes to Oxford, but you don't have to take it seriously! If you must come to some Godforsaken country like Germany you might go to the best places instead of jumped up workmen's institutes!'

  He forbore pointing out the credentials of his chosen universities, instead asking her how she occupied her time away from home, where she was endlessly busy organising the entire neighbourhood.

  'It's abominably tedious, made bearable only by interesting company. Luckily there are several American families, good families, here. Like the Kentons. Their girl is so charming, I'd hoped you could meet her. A lot of money, I believe. Never mind, they're touring Europe and have promised to spend a few days with us at The Place as soon as your term ends, before they sail to New York.'

  It was the threat of being thrust into the company of an eligible American heiress, however charming, that made Richard accept Edwin Silverman's invitation to visit his home in July. Edwin had also been at Bonn, although they had not previously met in Oxford.

  'It's undiluted feminine company, I'm afraid,' Edwin warned him when issuing the invitation. 'I'm blessed with four younger sisters, though none of them are out yet.'

  Richard harboured a faint suspicion Edwin might want him to squire one of these sisters, but on discovering the eldest was barely sixteen he'd jumped at the opportunity of evading the Kentons' visit to The Place.

  His mother was furious, but could do nothing about it. Richard had begun to feel it was time he showed some independence. For too long, perhaps, he and his brother Henry had gone along with the opinionated Sophia, as their father did, on unimportant matters. It was easier than sustaining the barrage of argument she employed if anyone contradicted her. But he knew that if he was to live his own life he needed to make a stand.

  In fact Sophia accepted his absence with surprising calm. It wasn't until September he understood why. Then she tried to insist he absented himself from Oxford for three months in order to accompany her and his father on a visit to America.

  'Your father means to export there, and is going largely on business. It would be very useful for you to be with him.'

  It had been a battle royal, with Sophia inadvertently disclosing they had been invited to stay with the Kentons at Christmas.

  'I am not taking time away from Oxford.'

  'But you did to go to Germany!'

  Knowing it was pointless to argue, Richard allowed the storm to rage round him. To all pleas and threats he maintained a straight refusal. Eventually Sophia acknowledged that her elder son had inherited some of her own spirit and determination. After she gave in the atmosphere at home during the final week of his summer vacation had been surprisingly pleasant and uncontroversial. He wondered what else she was planning, but back at Oxford soon shrugged off his concerns. She could not force him to marry her heiresses, after all.

  He'd intended to spend Christmas with an older cousin, Archie Cranworth and his wife Lexie, in Birmingham. Then in November Lexie lost the child she was expecting, and was very ill. Archie took her off to the south of France for a few weeks, and Richard faced a lonely Christmas. Professor Roberts had rescued him.

  'Come to us. I'm inviting a chap from Berlin, too. Actually he's an army officer, bit older than you, but nice chap. You'll be company for one another, have something in common.'

  And so he was at Gordon Villa, unable to keep his thoughts from a young, a very young, girl. American heiresses, buxom German frauleins, the other eligible young ladies his mother paraded before him, the girls he met at Oxford garden parties, and the shadier women who occupied other milieus – none made him feel as Marigold, so young and innocent, a mere servant, did. None inspired him with this urgent need to protect them from all unpleasantness and harm. He found it totally incomprehensible.

  *

  'What'll your Mom say?'

  'She's at work, and Poppy's gone shopping. She's always hours at the market,' Ivy said impatiently. 'Come on, Lizzie, it's too dark and cold to play in your shed.'

  Lizzie looked cautiously about her as she sidled up the yard and through the back door. Billy, equally anxious not to be seen, crowded behind her.

  'We'll go in the parlour,' Ivy announced importantly, and led the way through the kitchen. She stood on a chair to light the gas mantle.

  'I'm goin' ter be the patient this time!' Lizzie claimed eagerly.

  'No, Lizzie, that's not fair, you were the patient last time.'

  'Wasn't!'

  'You were! And it's my house!'

  'Shurrup, our Lizzie! It's Ivy's turn.'

  Lizzie scowled, but knew better than to argue with Billy. He was a lot bigger than she was and had no qualms about taking advantage of his superior strength. With a smile she meant to appear kindly and condescending, but which to Lizzie looked remarkably like a smirk, Ivy went across to the horsehair sofa and lay down on it.

  Billy carefully deposited his cap on the old but gleaming oak dresser which had belonged to John's mother, and went to stand beside her.

  'I've broken my leg, doctor,' she said, putting as much anguish into her voice as possible.

  'Yer did that last time,' Lizzie pointed out, disgruntled. 'Yer oughter choose summat diff'rent.'

  'We've done everything else, and it's my leg!' Ivy replied indignantly.

  'Why not break yer arm?'

  ' 'Er did that weeks ago, that time yer wasn't playin',' Billy said. 'And then yer wouldn't let me roll yer sleeve up.'

  'No-one's going to see my scars! Not even Sam!' Ivy said fiercely. 'Not even if he's almost a proper doctor!'

  ' 'E's just old man Potter's assistant, a chemist's not a proper doctor!' Billy said scornfully.

  'Well, he knows all about poisons!' Ivy retorted. 'He said he's an apot – something. That's nearly a doctor. As good as. Now I've broken my leg.'

  'Let me look at it. Nurse, 'elp the patient wi' 'er boots, an' take 'er stockin's off.'

  Ivy pulled up her skirt and Lizzie, too angry to be careful, pushed aside the petticoat and dragged off Ivy's boots.

  'Ouch! You didn't undo all the buttons!'

  'Lizzie, play proper or go 'ome!' Billy ordered and Lizzie, inwardly fuming, hid her resentment and stood beside Billy as he prodded Ivy's leg, asking in gruff tones where it hurt.

  'No. Not there. Higher up. Ouch! Oh, Doctor, that's it! It hurts! Help me! Please help me! Make it better!'

  'Oh, shut up!' Lizzie muttered.

  'You made a lot more noise when you broke your ankle!' the patient said indignantly, suddenly sitting up and glaring at the nurse.

  'Let's get on wi' it. Shall I bandage it? What shall I use?'

  'Yer needs a splint,' Lizzie said with an air of triumph.

  'A what?' Billy was bewildered.

  'I know!' Ivy forgot her broken leg and pushed him away in order to scramble off the sofa.

  'Oi! What yer doin'?'

  'The poker!' Ivy brandished it gleefully. 'You have to tie that to my leg to hold the bones straight. That's what you mean, isn't it Lizzie?'

  'Sam di'n't say. It looks a bit long.'

  'It'll do. Now bandage it to my leg. Use my stockings.'

  Five minutes later Ivy was hobbling about the parlour, one leg shackled to the poker, demonstrating how much better she
was. 'See, it works. Oh, doctor, you've saved my life! Thank you, doctor. What does it cost?'

  'An 'undred pounds,' Billy said eagerly.

  Ivy pretended to count out a hundred gold sovereigns, and hobbled about a bit more. The others grew bored. All the action was over.

  'It's time ter take yer splint off,' Billy said, but without much hope. He knew from past experience that when Ivy was the patient in these games she prolonged the glory of being the centre of attention as long as possible.

  'No, it isn't. You have to teach me to walk properly again. You've both got to help me.'

  The three of them, locked together as they supported an increasingly uncooperative Ivy, staggered about the room, gradually succumbing to giggles.

  'Now the poker – I mean splint – 'as ter come off!' Billy shouted, and made a sudden dive for Ivy's leg. The bandage had slipped, and it needed only a swift wrench before he had the poker in his hand.

  Ivy shrieked in pretend fury and tried to grab it from him, but he was far taller than she and easily held it out of her reach.

  Lizzie clung to his coat, urging Ivy to climb up on a chair and get it.

  'Can't catch me!' he taunted.

  'I will! I will!' Ivy screamed and as Billy, hampered by Lizzie's full weight swinging on his coat, staggered backwards, she scrambled onto the chair behind him. 'Go on, Ivy, get it!' Lizzie yelled.

  'I can't reach! Pull him nearer, Lizzie, he's too far away!'

  Lizzie was panting with the effort, Billy was laughing in triumph, but by standing on the very edge of the chair Ivy managed to get hold of his arm. She tugged and Billy lost his footing. As he tried to regain his balance Ivy seized the poker and with a yell of triumph waved it over her head.

  'We've won!' she crowed.

  'Two to one's not fair,' Billy complained, taking a step towards Ivy.

  She swung the poker back out of reach, and they all froze in horror as the window behind her shattered into hundreds of fragments.

  *

  It was two days after Christmas. Marigold was still in a daze of wonder. How could she, plain Marigold Smith, have talked and even laughed with a rich young man who belonged to the same class as her employers?