The Beggar Maid

by Dilly Court

  ‘We can’t lock ourselves in forever.’ Mrs Diment shook her head. ‘What a state of affairs.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Charity made an attempt to appear confident. ‘Tomorrow morning, as soon as the auction house opens, I’ll collect the money. Jackson and Bosun will accompany me, and I don’t think Bert will risk another set-to in public, but if he should turn up again I won’t hesitate to summon the police.’

  Charity returned to Nevill’s Court with what was left of the five guineas after the auction house had taken their commission. Jackson and Bosun followed close behind her, but there had been no sign of Bert. She entered the kitchen holding up her reticule, shaking it so that the coins jingled. ‘It’s all here,’ she said triumphantly. She came to a halt, looking from one to the other. Mrs Diment, Violet and Dorrie had on their bonnets and shawls, and there was baggage piled up by the door.

  Gideon rose from his seat at the table. ‘I take it that all went well.’

  Jackson tipped his cap. ‘Aye, sir. No sign of the wretch.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Charity demanded. ‘Where are we going?’

  Mrs Diment beamed at her. ‘I’m going home. Gideon is going to take us to Bligh Park.’

  Charity turned on him, frowning. ‘But I told you that I wouldn’t impose on Daniel.’

  ‘Nor will you. I quite understand your position, and last evening I sent a telegram to my father. I received a reply by return.’

  ‘I still don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m taking Mrs Diment to Bligh Park and then we’ll go on to the rectory at Sutton Pomeroy.’

  ‘That’s your home, Gideon,’ Charity said slowly. ‘Why would you take us there?’

  ‘My father lives on his own apart from his housekeeper and a maidservant. I sent him a message to say that I was bringing three friends to stay for a while.’

  Charity shook her head. ‘But what happens then? What would we do in the country?’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Violet said eagerly. ‘We’d be safe there.’

  ‘I’d like to see a cow,’ Dorrie added, grinning. ‘I ain’t never been to the country.’

  ‘You’d be near to Bligh Park, dear. It’s walking distance from the rectory.’ Mrs Diment glanced round the room with a misty expression softening her features. ‘I’ll miss my kitchen, and I suppose I’ll have to put up with Polly Trevett bossing me around, but it will be lovely to be back home again.’

  Gideon met Charity’s worried gaze with a smile. ‘My father loves company, and he’ll be delighted to have someone to talk to after dinner. He is a great reader so you’ll have a lot in common.’

  The notion that she might share an interest with someone of the rector’s education and standing came as something of a revelation to Charity, but ghosts from the past continued to haunt her. She was still the same girl who had begged and occasionally stolen in order to make a living.

  Dorrie rushed up to her and grabbed her hand. ‘Oh, please say yes. I don’t want to stay here with the spooks and that horrible man making faces through the window.’

  Charity turned to Jackson who had been standing behind her with Bosun sitting patiently at his side. ‘What do you say, Jackson?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Seems to me that I’d best stay here and keep an eye on the house.’ He patted Bosun’s head. ‘I got a sister living in Hoxton. She’ll make sure we don’t starve, and I can always earn a penny or two as a rat catcher. Sir Hedley wouldn’t thank me for leaving the place to be broke into and vandalised.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Charity gave him a searching look.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, miss. Quite sure.’

  ‘Then Daniel must be told and it’s up to him to see that you get paid for your trouble.’

  Jackson tipped his cap. ‘I’d be grateful for that, miss. Now, if you don’t need me no more I think I’ll go out and see if there’s an egg in the hen house. I quite fancy a boiled egg for my dinner.’ He left through the back door with Bosun at his heels.

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Diment said, shrugging. ‘He always was a cantankerous old curmudgeon, and he’ll be better off on his own. He’ll think he’s the king of the castle if he has the whole house to hisself.’

  ‘Are we agreed then?’ Gideon looked to Charity for an answer. ‘If we go now we can catch the midday train from Waterloo.’

  She glanced at the eager faces surrounding her and she knew that she was beaten. It made sense to leave London, for a while at least, and Violet’s health and that of her unborn child were her main concern. ‘Are you coming with us?’ she asked warily.

  ‘Of course. I checked with the rector and I’m due for some time off, besides which I haven’t seen my father since Christmas, so it’s a long overdue visit. I’ll go to find a hackney and we’ll be on our way.’

  It was almost dark by the time they reached Sutton Pomeroy, having stopped briefly on the way to drop Mrs Diment off at Bligh Park. The carriage that Gideon had hired at the station drew to a halt outside the rectory and he alighted first, holding out his hand to help Charity from the vehicle. She surveyed the scene with mounting optimism. The mellow red brick of the Georgian house seemed to glow in the fading light and the trees that surrounded it melted into purple shadows. An oil lamp had been placed in the window closest to the front door, and its welcoming beam illuminated the gravel path leading up through a garden heady with the scent of hyacinths and narcissi. Even before Charity opened the gate in the picket fence the front door was flung open and an elderly gentleman came out to greet them. Gideon paid the driver and hurried to meet his father, throwing his arms around him in a fond embrace. ‘It’s good to see you, Father.’

  ‘And you, my boy.’ The Reverend Philip Raines peered over his son’s shoulder. ‘And these are the young ladies you told me about.’

  Gideon released him, turning to hold his hand out to Charity. ‘May I introduce Miss Charity Crosse?’

  Charity bobbed a curtsey. It did not seem appropriate to shake the hand of a distinguished gentleman of advanced years. ‘How do you do, sir?’

  ‘How do you do, Miss Crosse. Welcome to Sutton Pomeroy.’

  Violet and Dorrie had hung back, but Gideon drew them forward. ‘Miss Violet Chapman and Miss Dorrie – I don’t know your last name, Dorrie.’

  ‘Fisher, sir. It’s Dorrie Fisher.’ She made an attempt to copy Charity’s curtsey and almost toppled over.

  ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,’ Philip said, smiling. ‘Come inside. It’s chilly out here.’ He linked his arm through Gideon’s and led the way into the wide entrance hall, and at once Charity was struck by the homely atmosphere in the rectory. An overcoat had been left carelessly draped over a chair and a pair of galoshes had been discarded as if the wearer had simply stepped out of them. The polished floorboards smelled of lavender and beeswax, which brought back memories of home to Charity. A vision of her grandmother making the polish in the small kitchen in Chelsea brought a smile to her lips, but it froze as she met the contemptuous gaze of a woman who stood at the foot of the stairs. ‘Who are these people, Philip?’

  The rector turned to her with a benign smile. ‘These young ladies are Gideon’s guests, Jane.’

  ‘Aunt Jane.’ Gideon hurried forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

  ‘I only arrived this morning,’ she said coldly. ‘Are you filling your father’s house with your charity cases again, Gideon?’

  Dorrie sniggered, but instantly realised her mistake and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

  ‘What do you find amusing, child?’ Jane spun round to glare at Dorrie, who blushed to the roots of her hair.

  ‘I think it was the word charity,’ Gideon said hastily. ‘May I introduce Miss Charity Crosse, Aunt?’

  Charity met Jane Raines’ hard stare without blinking. ‘How do you do, ma’am.’

  Jane acknowledged her with the briefest of nods, looking her up and down with obvious distaste, but
when she turned her gaze to Violet her winged eyebrows shot up to her hairline. ‘I see you’re giving shelter to whores as well as street urchins, brother.’

  Philip’s smile faded into a frown. ‘That was uncalled for, Jane.’

  ‘I see no wedding ring.’ Jane sniffed and turned away as if offended by the sight of Violet’s swollen belly.

  Violet’s mouth drooped at the corners and she backed towards the door. ‘I ain’t staying here to be insulted by the likes of her, the stuck-up cow.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Philip?’ Jane clutched the newel post, closing her eyes. ‘I feel quite faint.’

  Charity sent a warning glance to Violet. ‘I’m sorry if my friend offended you, Miss Raines, but we’ve had a long and trying day. We’re all tired and we would be most grateful for something to eat and a bed for the night, but we’ll leave first thing in the morning.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Gideon protested. ‘I think you owe Violet an apology, Aunt Jane. She’s a respectable young woman who was taken advantage of and needs our help and compassion, not condemnation.’

  ‘You can say what you like, Gideon. You too, Philip, so don’t look daggers at me. I’ve heard it all before, but when you take on such people they invariably disappoint you. I refuse to sit at table with them, and I’ll take my meals in my room while they’re here.’ She ascended the stairs with her head held high despite Gideon’s protests.

  ‘Let her go,’ Philip said wearily. ‘Jane will come round if we leave her on her own.’ His tired face creased into a smile. ‘In the meantime, I apologise on my sister’s behalf, and I suggest we all go into the drawing room and have a glass of sherry before supper.’ He headed towards a door on the far side of the hall, motioning them to follow him.

  Violet hung back. ‘I dunno. I’d rather go and stay with Mrs Diment, if it’s all the same to you, sir.’

  ‘You mustn’t take any notice of my aunt,’ Gideon said with an apologetic smile. ‘It’s just her way. She’ll come round.’

  Violet did not look convinced, and Dorrie’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Charity drew Gideon aside. ‘I know you brought us here with the kindest of intentions, but it’s clear that we’re upsetting your aunt and your father.’

  ‘You’ll upset my father more if you insist on leaving now, and anyway there’s nowhere to go at this time of night. Join us for supper and we’ll talk again in the morning.’

  Charity could see that Violet was exhausted and Dorrie was likely to burst into tears at any moment. She forced herself to smile. ‘Come along, you two. We mustn’t upset Gideon’s father by refusing his hospitality.’ She followed Gideon into the drawing room, with Violet and Dorrie lagging several steps behind. However, they both seemed to brighten when they entered the room and saw a log fire blazing up the chimney, and their mood changed subtly when an aged maidservant brought in a tray of milk and biscuits for them to share.

  Charity sat down by the fire and sipped a glass of sherry. The taste was sweet and nutty and she began to relax, but Jane’s cold reception was still fresh in her memory. This was just a temporary measure, she told herself, gazing round the room. It would be easy to think of this lovely old house as home, with its comfortable armchairs covered in chintz and the jewel-coloured Persian rugs scattered over the polished floorboards. A vase filled with daffodils and narcissi filled the air with their sweet scent, and velvet curtains moved gently in the draught from two tall sash windows. Watercolour paintings of country scenes brightened the white walls and framed daguerreotypes were carefully arranged on an escritoire beneath a painting of a pretty young woman. With her red-gold hair and large grey eyes, the likeness to Gideon suggested that this might be his mother, but she did not like to ask. He followed her gaze and smiled. ‘That lovely woman is my mother. She died ten years ago but sometimes I can feel her presence in this house.’

  Philip cleared his throat noisily. ‘The scent of spring flowers always brings her to mind. Christina loved them.’

  Charity could see that they were both deeply moved at the mention of her and she said nothing, although she thought that they were lucky to have such fond memories when she had none of her own mother. She sat and listened while Gideon and his father made conversation. It would be so easy to imagine herself living in a home like this, but she must not fall into that trap. Tomorrow she must find work, even if it meant doing the most menial tasks. She had allowed her attention to wander, but was brought sharply back to the present by the appearance of the maid to announce that dinner was served.

  ‘Thank you, Jennet.’ Philip rose with some difficulty, refusing a hand from his son. ‘I can manage, thank you. My old bones get set in one position and then I have to shake them around a bit in order to get them moving again, but once I’m on my feet there’s no stopping me.’ He teetered towards the doorway. ‘Come along, ladies. You must be very hungry after all that travelling.’

  Gideon took Charity’s arm and led her into the dining room with Violet and Dorrie trooping dutifully behind them like schoolchildren on an outing. They took their places at the table but Jane was noticeable by her absence. Jennet served vegetable soup followed by collops of mutton in caper sauce and boiled potatoes, and once again the conversation revolved around parish matters, most of which Charity suspected held little interest for Gideon, but he listened politely and made the right noises. Charity had grown used to eating sparingly and she was full even before Jennet brought in the apple pie and custard sauce, but she managed to eat a little as she did not want to offend her host.

  When the meal was over the housekeeper, an elderly white-haired woman called Mrs Simms, led them up to their rooms on the first floor. The rectory was a rambling house intended originally to house a large family, and as Philip had remarked at dinner, he and the servants rattled round in it like peas on a drum. Charity had her own room with a luxurious feather bed which she did not have to share with anyone. A fire had been lit in the grate and she was lulled to sleep by the whisper of the wind as it rustled the branches of the trees at the back of the house. She lay in solitary state imagining how Violet and Dorrie must be feeling in the room they had opted to share. Mrs Simms had offered to put Dorrie in the old nursery on the top floor, but she had made such a fuss that Violet allowed her to share her bed. There was no sound from their room next morning when Charity went downstairs to find Gideon, but as luck would have it she entered the dining room to find Jane seated at the table.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charity said nervously. ‘I was looking for Gideon.’

  ‘As you can see he’s not here, and it would be more appropriate if someone of your station in life were to address him as Mr Raines.’ Jane’s tone was scathing and she turned her back on Charity, taking out her spite on a boiled egg. The top flew off and landed on the polished surface of the rosewood table. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, tut-tutting in annoyance. ‘Go away, girl. I want to have my breakfast in peace. You should eat in the kitchen with the servants.’

  Mortified and angry, Charity stepped back into the hall. She stood for a moment, wondering what to do next. She had a feeling that she might not be too welcome in the kitchen, and as she had no idea as to Gideon’s whereabouts she decided to take a walk in the garden. She looped her shawl around her shoulders and let herself out through the front door. Standing on the doorstep she found herself faced with the full splendour of a spring morning in the country. More accustomed to smelly streets strewn with hay and horse dung, and buildings crammed together with not an inch to spare between them, she took in the view of verdant lawns and flowerbeds overflowing with daffodils, narcissi, hyacinths and pools of sunny primroses with a feeling of delight. A vista of rolling hills dotted with sheep stretched out above the hedgerows, which were bursting into life. The beauty of it all was quite overwhelming, and taking deep breaths of the wine-clear air made her feel as if she had drunk a glass of the rector’s sherry in one long, greedy gulp. She raised her face to the sun and felt its gentle warmth caress h
er cheeks.

  ‘It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?’

  She opened her eyes with a start and saw Gideon walking towards her. He was dressed in riding breeches and a hacking jacket, an outfit which, she thought, suited him much better than his clerical garb. He looked almost as dashing as Harry. ‘Good morning, Mr Raines.’ She averted her gaze quickly. She had tried to put Harry out of her thoughts, but despite their short acquaintance she could neither forget him nor could she stand by and see him lose everything that was dear to him.

  ‘Mr Raines?’ Gideon said, chuckling. ‘Why the formality?’

  Reluctantly she met his amused gaze. ‘Your aunt scolded me for calling you by your Christian name.’

  ‘And I suppose she told you that your place was in the kitchen with the servants?’ He shook his head. ‘Dear Aunt Jane; I’m afraid she’ll never change, but she’s not so bad when you get to know her.’

  Charity faced him squarely. ‘Gideon, this won’t work. The girls and I can’t stay here. It was a wonderful gesture and I’m very relieved to be away from London and Bert Chapman, but as I told you yesterday we can’t impose on your father. We have to find accommodation quickly and I must look for work.’

  ‘I do realise that you’re in a difficult position, but you mustn’t worry about Father. He is only happy when he’s helping people and he won’t let Aunt Jane spoil things for you. However, for your sake it can only be a temporary measure and I thought we’d ride over to Bligh Park this morning to see if Daniel has any ideas.’

  ‘Ride?’ Charity stared at him in horror. ‘Do you mean ride a horse?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I certainly don’t mean you to ride a camel or an elephant. We don’t have too many of those in Sutton Pomeroy.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said nervously. ‘I’ve never sat on a horse in my life.’

  ‘Then now is as good a time as any to start. We’ll have breakfast and then I’ll take you to the stables and introduce you to Nellie. She was my mother’s horse and she’s the gentlest, quietest animal you’ll ever meet. You’ll pick it up in no time.’