Polly's Story

by Jennie Walters

  ‘What is she meant to have done this time?’ said Mr Wilkins, the under-butler. ‘Poor lass! Do you know, Her Ladyship ordered me to fetch two saucers last Sunday luncheon for Miss Harriet’s elbows. She had to sit there like that for the whole meal, to teach her to keep them off the table.’

  ‘She is trying to break the girl’s spirit, that’s what it’s all about,’ Mary said. ‘They are two strong characters, and neither will give way to the other. Mind you, Lady Vye has made a good job of Miss Eugenie: lovely manners, that young lady has, and all the accomplishments. No one could accuse Her Ladyship of neglecting her duties as a stepmother. And if she cannot love the girls quite so much as she does Master John, that is only to be expected. He is her own flesh and blood, after all.’

  And then Iris appeared from the housekeeper’s room with the full story, which she had overheard from the upper servants. Lady Vye had given Mrs Henderson the broken figurine to see if it could be mended, and told her about Miss Harriet’s disgrace. To my surprise, the housekeeper and the cook seemed to have taken Harriet’s side even more strongly than Mr Wilkins. But Mary told us that Miss Harriet had been a favourite in the kitchen since she was small; she had her own little apron and bowl and would spend hours there, making pastry and biscuits.

  Harriet was sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a candle lamp, when I went into her room with hot water and towels later that evening. ‘Oh, Miss,’ I said, hurrying over to her. ‘However can I thank you? But why did you do it? You should have let me own up and take the punishment, not you.’

  ‘Then you would have been dismissed,’ she said, all matter-of-fact. ‘And that cannot happen to stepdaughters, or I would have been sent away a long time ago. Don’t worry, it’s all over and done with now.’

  Sadly for both of us, however, this was not the case. The very next morning at breakfast, Mary told us she had just heard from Mrs Henderson that Lady Vye had given Harriet’s old nanny notice to leave. A new governess would be coming in her place, to teach Miss Harriet how to behave. Even Mary was shocked by this, despite her support for Lady Vye’s methods of child-rearing. ‘Poor Miss Harriet!’ she said, chewing her lip more anxiously than ever. ‘Nanny Roberts must be the nearest thing to a mother she’s ever had. And what about Master John? He’ll be heartbroken.’

  ‘So there are to be no more babies in the house,’ Becky said, looking meaningfully at Jemima. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, what with the Vyes in separate bedrooms and never going near each other so far as anyone can see.’

  ‘That is quite enough!’ Mary was outraged. ‘There is no call for gossip of such kind here, thank you very much. If you want to talk like that, you had better go and work in the laundry.’

  What a deal of trouble had come about because of one little china figurine! Mary said that she had heard Lady Vye had decided to dismiss Nanny Roberts some time ago (this information came from Miss de Courcy, Lady Vye’s maid), but I knew her leaving was meant as an extra punishment for Harriet and would never forgive myself for helping bring it about. However, I was soon taken up with troubles enough of my own. Mary told me to report to Mrs Henderson’s room after breakfast. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach; as soon as I saw her face, I knew I was right to fear the worst.

  ‘Well, Polly Perkins,’ she began, ‘I always had my doubts about you and they seem to have been proved right. I must have told you a hundred times never to speak unless you are spoken to. Do you think I enjoyed having to stand there and listen to an account of your brazen behaviour? Well, do you?’

  ‘No, Mrs Henderson,’ I whispered.

  ‘Lady Vye told me this is the second time she’s had cause to notice you and she won’t have such an impudent hussy under her roof. And just when you were beginning to be of some use!’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘If we weren’t expecting company, I would have sent you off to pack your bags immediately. But we are short-staffed as it is and there are guests arriving today. Stay until the ball is over and you can have a full month’s wages and your train fare home. I can’t say fairer than that - it’s only another few days. Now get out of my sight.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Henderson,’ I said, and let myself out. I walked back down the corridor towards the servants’ hall in a daze, and then the full force of what had just happened came home to me and I had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch my breath. I had been dismissed! I was to be sent away in disgrace, with only a month’s wages to give my mother and no decent character reference to help me get another job. This was a disaster. We were in desperate need of money at home: Mother had had to cut the toes out of my sister Lizzie’s boots and she was counting on my help to buy new ones, let alone a winter coat now that Lizzie’s had been handed down to Martha. And the shame of it, coming back to our village like that with my tail between my legs, when I had left so proudly! Whatever would we tell the neighbours? And how could I say goodbye to Iris and William, and Miss Harriet?

  The other housemaids were setting off upstairs to clean the bedrooms. I could tell from the way they looked at me - Becky curious but not unkind, Jemima triumphant - that Mary must have told them my situation. ‘There you are, Polly,’ Mary said to me now. ‘Do your best over the next few days and you may still get a decent character reference.’ And she put an arm round my shoulder to shepherd me along.

  It was kind of her to speak to me like that, but I knew she was worried that I would not see the point in trying any more, and there was a great deal of work to be done. All those guest bedrooms had to be cleaned and the beds made every day, and several of the ladies who were coming to stay were not bringing servants with them. Mary and Becky would be maiding the married ladies, Jemima the single, and many of their duties would fall on my shoulders. I have always worked hard, though; it is in my nature to do the best I can, no matter what the circumstances, and I was not going to change now.

  The Hall did look lovely that day, ready for the house party and the ball to come. There were fires, clean towels and linen in every bedroom, fresh writing paper and candles on each desk, and huge bowls of flowers on all the gleaming side tables, despite the season. Lord Vye had supervised the building of three hothouses the year before, and the gardeners had been raising orchids, lilies and freesias all winter. We couldn’t help pausing now and then to breathe in their fragrance, alongside the familiar Swallowcliffe smells of beeswax polish, wood smoke and baking.

  I had been so proud to come here, yet now all this beauty and comfort was like a knife in my heart. ‘Look what you will be leaving behind,’ the rooms seemed to whisper to me as I walked through them. ‘Such luxury is not for the likes of you. Go back and skivvy in some humble place where you belong.’

  The rest of the day passed in a dream. Our guests began arriving in the afternoon; suddenly the house was full of elegantly-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and all the welcoming hustle and bustle that came with them. Coachmen and footmen hurried to and fro with armfuls of luggage, while we showed the visitors to their rooms and made sure they had everything they needed. Mrs Henderson seemed to be in a hundred places at once: Lady So and So’s hatbox had been mislaid on the journey from the station; Lord What’s his Name would like another pillow and the windows opened in his room - the Countess, however, was nowhere near warm enough and wanted the fire banking up. Then on top of everything else, the Dowager Duchess’s maid had forgotten to pack her diamonds and a footman had to be sent back to London by the very next train to pick them up. Not such a great disaster, though you might have thought so for all the fuss and squawking that went on. I could not help feeling a little bitter with all the worries that were staring me in the face. The way things had turned out, come to think about it, I should have owned up to breaking the figurine in the first place and saved Miss Harriet the trouble.

  I did not see Harriet to talk to all day as she was taken up with her cousins, and I couldn’t tell Iris what had happened either, since she was too busy to set foot outside the still room. Then
in the evening we were rushed off our feet, taking up cans of hot water for the guests’ hip baths and making sure each room had plenty of soap and towels. Dinner always started at eight o’clock sharp - Lord Vye hated to be late - and Mrs Henderson told us maids we could watch the company going into the dining room from the upstairs landing, so long as we were careful to keep out of sight. I saw William down there, looking very smart in his best livery, and hoped his poor head wasn’t itching too much. The second footman Thomas stood opposite him on the other side of the double doors, and the gentlemen and ladies went through between them, two by two. Lord Vye led the way with an elderly duchess hanging off his arm, followed by Her Ladyship, who was escorted by some officer or general with hardly enough dinner jacket for all his rows of medals. She was wearing the most gorgeous blue velvet gown, and diamonds sparkled around her neck and in her hair.

  ‘Master Edward will be a catch for one lucky girl some day,’ Becky said, peeking at him through the banisters. ‘In line to inherit the whole estate, and handsome to boot! I don’t know why he has to be so solemn and serious all the time.’ It was true: there was a rather brooding air about Edward’s face. His eyes were dark and deepset, and he did not seem to smile very often.

  ‘Isn’t Miss Eugenie a picture?’ Mary sighed, and we all agreed that Agnes had done her proud. She did look lovely with her hair piled up in a mass of dark ringlets, dressed in pale yellow silk and pearls - like some fresh spring flower, I thought to myself. ‘A lamb to the slaughter,’ Jemima remarked, which was just the sort of thing she would say. Miss Eugenie looked more like a cat who’d got the cream to me. A fair-haired young man was taking her into dinner and paying her a great deal of attention, although I couldn’t help noticing that he had a boil on the back of his neck and not much chin to speak of.

  ‘Back to work!’ Mary said at last, when all the guests had gone through to the dining room. There must have been ten extra bedrooms to attend to, and they wouldn’t tidy themselves. For much of the evening, gales of laughter had come floating down the corridor from the nursery, where Miss Harriet was entertaining her younger cousins. I was hurrying past the room a couple of hours later with some clean towels when suddenly the door burst open and a rabble of children came tumbling out, most of them riding on the back of a young man on all fours with tousled chestnut hair, who was roaring like a lion. He suddenly reared up with a particularly fearsome growl and Master John fell off, shrieking with delight, which only seemed to add to the general enjoyment. It was hard not to smile at the sight: John was such a sweet child, for all the world like the boy blowing bubbles on the Pears’ soap picture, with his blond curls and dimpled chin. I could see the poor nurserymaid in the doorway behind, wringing her hands in anxiety, and Harriet, carrying a fat moon-faced baby which was laughing louder than anyone.

  ‘Oh, Polly, this is Rory!’ she cried as soon as she saw me. ‘He has arrived at last!’

  The young man struggled to his feet, shaking off the last few riders. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Polly,’ he said, somewhat out of breath, and then took my hand and pressed it to his lips. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, not being in the habit of having my hand kissed by a gentleman; besides, he had made me drop the towels in a heap on the floor. So I muttered some hasty reply and dropped a curtsey before stooping to pick them up - upon which we cracked heads together, as he had bent to do the very same thing! I was in some confusion by now, especially as it was a hard blow and I knew it must have hurt him too (although he had no one to blame but himself). The children, of course, thought all this was very funny.

  Master Rory managed to recover his wits more quickly than I did. ‘Look at all the trouble I’ve caused,’ he said, bundling the towels untidily back in my arms. ‘You are probably thinking I should be downstairs quietly eating my dinner and making polite conversation, instead of whipping these poor little children into such a pitch of excitement they will never get to sleep tonight.’

  Of course, he was perfectly right - the very thought was running through my head at that precise moment. ‘You see, I can read your mind,’ he said, looking at me so mischievously that I did not know where to put myself. ‘You may have no secrets from me, pretty Polly. But I could not help being late, for various reasons, and Her Ladyship hates to have dinner interrupted. I was thinking of sloping down to the kitchen in a minute and asking Mrs Bragg to let me have something on a tray. Goddard is busy in the dining room, no doubt.’

  ‘Oh, Rory, don’t be ridiculous!’ Harriet interrupted. ‘How can you think of going anywhere near the kitchen in the middle of supper? You might think you can wind Mrs Bragg round your little finger, but she’ll have you hanging from a meat hook in no time, I assure you.’

  That was true enough. At dinner time that day, I had heard the upper servants discussing the evening’s menu: there were to be two different types of soup and turbot with lobster sauce to start, then lamb cutlets, compôte of pigeons and grilled mushrooms to follow, with a haunch of venison, boiled capon and oysters, pressed ox tongue, various vegetables and salads for the main course - not to mention the ices and puddings to follow afterwards. The kitchen would be hot as Hades, and Mrs Bragg in no mood for interruptions - not even from Rory Vye.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘If only the remains of your nursery supper had not looked quite so unappetizing. Wait a minute! What about the delights of the still room? Perhaps Mrs Henderson can be persuaded to take pity on me - or even better, the lovely Iris. Now back to bed this minute, you naughty children, or I shall have to tell your parents that you have led me astray.’ And he rushed at those nearest to him with another ferocious roar, which sent them all skittering back into the room, screaming at the tops of their voices. Just as well the nursery was far enough away from the dining room to be out of earshot, I thought to myself.

  ‘I’m so glad Rory’s home,’ Harriet said, watching her brother as he sauntered off down the corridor, straightening his tweed jacket. ‘Now we shall have some fun! Don’t look so disapproving, Polly. You must love Rory - everybody does.’

  I was not quite sure what to think about Rory Vye, to be honest. He was a charmer all right, but he had made me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I thought he had a cheek, too, turning up so late and then expecting a meal to be specially prepared for him. Still, perhaps I was only being hard on him because of the mood I was in that evening. Looking at Miss Harriet’s happy face, I decided to tell her what had happened some other time; it was news that could keep till the next day.

  I saw Master Rory in the still room a little while later, eating jam out of the jar with a teaspoon and bothering Iris while she turned a chocolate bombe out of its mould. If Mrs Henderson had been there, I’m sure she would have dropped a few hints that he should leave, but she was upstairs checking the bedrooms. And then Iris noticed me walk past and came running out, wiping her hands on her apron.

  ‘Oh, Polly! I’ve just heard what happened. What is to be done? Surely you cannot really be leaving!’

  ‘I can, and I am,’ I told her, biting my lip. ‘And it is my own fault - I have no one to blame but myself.’ As if that made my troubles any easier to bear.

  Five

  I ask you whether one reason why disobedience is so common among young servants is because they do not see the beauty of obedience. On the contrary, they think it is ‘spirited’ to let folks see that they have got a will of their own. Oh, that I could but show you the ugliness of disobedience, how loathsome and hateful a thing it is when compared with the sweet beauty of obedience!

  From The Dignity of Service, sermons by Reverend Henry Housman, 1876

  ‘I’ve an older sister who’s a housekeeper up in London,’ William said. ‘Shall I ask her if she knows of a decent family in need of a housemaid? I’m sure she could soon fix you up with something.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you go bothering her on my account. I shall probably find a place around here sooner or later.’

  It was kind of him t
o put himself out for me and I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but somehow I didn’t fancy the idea of working in the city. Ada from our village had gone to London as a general servant for a grocer and his family. ‘She’s to slave away from five in the morning till gone midnight,’ her mother reported after a week, ‘with only a drunken cook and one lazy footman for company - and nothing but leftovers to eat!’ No, I wanted to work in a big house with plenty of other girls to be friends with, and pleasant places to walk on my afternoons off, and good food on the table. Still, beggars can’t be choosers. I had precious little chance of finding work in a place like Swallowcliffe again.

  William would not be put off. ‘Let me have your address just in case, and I’ll write to you if I hear anything,’ he said. ‘It’s a small world, and who knows? We may well run into each other again. Here’s hoping, Polly. I shall miss our early-morning talks.’ And he looked at me quite seriously for a change.

  ‘Cheer up! There’ll be another girl for you to talk to soon enough,’ I said, trying to make light of it. The truth was, I would miss him too - though I wasn’t going to give him any ideas by saying as much - and didn’t want to think that this might be the last time we would be speaking to each other. I could still hardly believe that my time at the Hall was coming to an end so soon. The ball was to be held that evening; most of our guests were going home the next day and I would be leaving with them.