The Straw Halter

by Joan M. Moules

  It was strange at first being entirely alone again. Since the age of ten, when she had shared with the two girls at Wren Court, there had always been somebody there. George, her first husband, then Daniel, and recently she had been sharing with Rosa and Bill; now suddenly she had a small space which was hers alone.

  She worked in the kitchen with Marie. The cook was a large, jolly lady who said to them both on that first strange day, ‘There are two rules in my kitchen: No taking food out and no lads hanging round the door. Obey them and we shall get on well.’

  Betsy was happy enough with those. The other two girls who were already employed worked mostly in the house, although they came to the kitchen for their meals. These were eaten with the cook and butler at each end of the scrubbed table and were companionable occasions.

  She was lonely however, especially for the first week because, from what Marie said, the three of them who were sharing a room chattered and laughed and Betsy was isolated from this. Not that she wished it any other way, but lying in the narrow iron bed at night she couldn’t stop her thoughts from returning to the bedroom she had shared with Daniel. She missed Dumbo too and wondered whether the cat looked for her and was sad. Such silly thoughts, she chided herself as she turned into the pillow to stifle her sobs.

  A month later Richard Choicely came to dinner. He had been before but because he was referred to in the kitchen as Miss Lily’s fiancé Betsy hadn’t known who he was. One of the upstairs maids, who also waited at table, had been poorly all that day and by the evening had to take to her bed. Marie was chosen to take her place because she had experience of waiting at table.

  Remembering the harvest suppers, the kitchen at home, and Mrs Wallasey’s beautiful dining-room Betsy smiled to herself. She had not volunteered more information about herself than was needed to be a kitchen-maid and was content for matters to remain that way, at least for the time being. Possibly not for ever she thought, as she watched Marie parading round the kitchen with a silly grin on her face.

  The meal looked and smelt delicious and later, when Marie was sitting at her place next to Betsy and eating her own meal she said, ‘Miss Lily’s fiancé is so handsome, isn’t he?’ She gave an exaggerated sigh, ‘I think I like older men really, she is a lucky girl.’

  ‘Yes, well, that will do,’ cook said quickly. As they washed up together, Marie whispered to Betsy, ‘I expect I shall dream about Sir Richard Choicely tonight. He smiled at me you know.’

  Betsy just saved the plate she had in her hand, and let it slide back into the soapy water. ‘Is – is that his name, Marie?’

  ‘Mmm. So good-looking in a manly way, not like some of the silly boys who make passes. Mind he’s ever such a lot older than her. Funny, isn’t it, ’cos you’d expect her to marry someone her own age, wouldn’t you? But I s’pose there aren’t any suitable ones, don’t you?’

  Fortunately Marie was so carried away with her exciting evening she didn’t seem to notice that Betsy was not really answering, just murmuring her agreements.

  As soon as everything was finished and away and the kitchen floor washed ready for the following day she said goodnight and went to her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed she let the facts roam round her mind.

  Richard Choicely, the man who could be her father, was going to marry a girl who was only about her own age. Why not? she thought, after all, Daniel is much older than me, even George Hatton was older, but Richard was different. She thought of him as Richard and not Sir Richard now, and more and more she thought of him as the father she never knew.

  Although it had been such a shock at the time she discovered it, she believed her Aunt Agnes had spoken the truth. The knowledge made her uneasy, especially if it had been as Aunt Agnes said. Yet having met the man she could not imagine that it was. She preferred her own version of what she thought might have happened. The two sisters enticing him and her mother being the one he chose.

  After all he was a man and that said it all. Perhaps he never knew about the baby – she pulled herself up sharply – it was more likely that he did know and his family paid her mother off.

  He would have only been a young man at the time and he obviously married later because Daniel said he was a widower with two sons. Strange to think that if it were all true, those sons were her half-brothers. Betsy no longer knew if she wanted it to be true or not. She only knew that she must never venture from the kitchen area because if Richard saw her he might tell Daniel. Of course they would only meet at the market or the fair and in the normal way of things they would not know each other. But because of the encounter with Sir Richard’s groom the acquaintance had been made and Betsy knew that he would not pass her by without speaking, nor pass Daniel without enquiring about her.

  She shivered as she recalled her last meeting with him at the fair when he told her he had seen Daniel and that he was looking for her. She needed to be very careful or the situation could so easily get out of hand, and much as she longed to be with Daniel again, the risk of being found was far too high.

  Chapter 12

  Daniel had never felt so low. For a week he haunted the fair, sure in his mind that Betsy would be there. Often he could not spend too long looking because of the work on the farm, and when he returned he would get himself something to eat and then work until the light beat him. Jim had been marvellous, working extra hours and keeping things going in every area. Daniel had also taken on another girl from the village to work in the dairy with Hannah, the young dairymaid they already employed.

  Sometimes he looked at the straw halter, still hanging on the hook and wished he had never made such an issue of it. Betsy had hated it yet it was the only material thing he knew that would keep her with him. Rubbing a hand across his weary eyes he suddenly admitted to himself that it would make no difference. She would stay because she loved him as he loved her.

  Where was she now? Where would she go? Then, in a sudden flash, it came to him. Back to Wren Court, the place where she had been happy when Mrs Wallasey was alive. If she found a job there again she would have a bed and food. There was only one way to find out and that was to go and see. Sick with apprehension he knew he could do no more that night. He must find out exactly where the house was and in a few days’ time, when things were straighter here, he would pay them a visit.

  For the second time in weeks, Daniel slept through the night and woke feeling better. Of course, she might not have done that, but at last he had made a decision that might have results. He refused to think about her not wanting to come home. He was sure she had gone on the spur of the moment and it was all because he had mentioned the fair, but Betsy knew what a temper he had, she must surely know he had not meant it when he said that awful thing about taking her there. He could not even remember exactly what he had said, he had been in such a state, but the image of her shocked face was with him still.

  It was the weekend before Daniel could get over to Wren Court. He thought it would be better to go to the tradesmen’s entrance rather than the front door. He took with him some butter and cheese and set off with great hopes. Betsy had told him about the house often and about her special lady. He knew that her son now owned the property, the son whose wife had arranged Betsy’s first marriage to George Hatton. Betsy had glossed over the reasons but Daniel thought he knew them anyway.

  He was jealous that he had not been the first with her but all he wanted now was to have her back with him. He missed everything about her. The kitchen seemed unwelcoming and he seldom had time to go into the sitting room. His bed was desolate without her, many times he reached across during the night simply to touch her, feel her, know she was there, and when his hand felt the empty space he was devastated as he remembered how it had been. He went to bed each night with the nightdress she had worn the night before she left. It still smelt of Betsy and offered a tiny crumb of comfort to his aching heart.

  The woman who came to the kitchen door knew nothing of Betsy. He told her he was looking for a relative who ha
d at one time worked there, and she said the place had recently been sold. ‘We have been here only a few weeks. None of the old staff is left,’ she said, ‘I think some of them went with them.’ She did not know where the Wallaseys had gone, ‘but I think it was somewhere abroad.’

  Not that that mattered he thought as he returned home, because it would have been Wren Court that might have attracted her, not the Wallaseys themselves.

  He tried to look at the situation dispassionately. She would need to find work and the most likely place would be in one of the bigger houses or farms. Somewhere she could live in. She must have been at the fair the week she left because it was the obvious place and if she had found work on the first day he had probably wasted all that time looking in the wrong area. People came from miles around to the fair and Betsy could be anywhere by now.

  Lily and Richard were to be married in the spring. Plans for the wedding were discussed during dinner one evening. After the meal, partaken in the oak panelled dining-room, the family had coffee in the garden. There were three lawns, a great many interesting shrubs and trees and a magnificent rose-bed, which in the summer was ablaze with colour and a joy to the nostrils, so sweet was the scent of the flowers there.

  The orchard was at the far end of the garden, but this evening the family held their tête-à-tête on the small lawn in front of the drawing-room windows.

  ‘The marquee will be set up on the big lawn,’ Lady Aston-Jenkins said. The discussion went on for some time, then the chill in the air drove the family back indoors and cook sent Betsy to collect the cups from the garden. Usually the upstairs maids did this, but only one was on duty, the other having been sent off earlier in the evening because she wasn’t well.

  ‘Go and get the crockery from the tables on the small lawn Betsy,’ cook said, ‘then we can clear up. They won’t be wanting anything else tonight.’

  Knowing that Richard had been to dinner again Betsy hoped cook was right in her surmise that the family were safely indoors. She went quickly, pausing beneath a tree for a quick survey of the area. There was no one about. She dashed over to the white table and chairs set out on the lawn. Quickly she piled the cups and saucers on to her tray and hurried back in the direction of the kitchen. To do so she had to cross in front of one of the windows of the house and Richard was standing there. He had his back to the window and she scurried by, praying that he would not turn round and see her. Head down, she turned the corner that would take her along the path towards the kitchen. There was no cover here and she was almost running as she reached the back step, missed it and went sprawling, the tray and fine china clattering to the ground.

  Betsy’s ankle sustained a sprain that necessitated her doing all jobs in the kitchen sitting down. She managed the stairs to her room that night with help and from the attic to the kitchen the morning after her accident by bumping down each stair on her bottom. Returning in the evening, she was aided by Marie, who reported that her room-mates were both in love with Sir Richard Choicely.

  ‘Meself though, I can’t see what the fuss is about. He’s only ord’nary, and too old for the likes of Miss Lily.’

  ‘You’ve changed your mind,’ Betsy said spiritedly. ‘Last time he came you were over the moon about him.’

  ‘Well, I’ve ’ad time to think, and he’ll be an old, old man when she’s still young and pretty. I wouldn’t want that. I reckon as she’ll look around when she’s wed and find herself someone younger.’ Marie winked. ‘You know, unofficial like.’

  Betsy was indignant. ‘Why should she? She’ll have a good life with him. He’s a charming man. And he doesn’t look old.’

  ‘No, not yet, I’ll give you that, but old against her. I mean his hair’s grey for a start, well, more silver really, quite nice – here, how d’you know what he looks like? You haven’t ever seen him.’

  Betsy thought quickly. ‘You said so, didn’t you, Marie? Last time he came, you told me how young-looking and handsome he was.’

  Her smile was radiant as she looked at the other girl, but her heart seemed to be going at double its normal rate. She had given herself away now. But Marie frowned and said, ‘Did I? I don’t remember. Anyhow, he’s not for the likes of us. More likely finish in the market-place, eh? But somehow I’ve never fancied that meself. I mean, having men look you over like. I’d rather be chosen proper, know what I mean? It’s different when you’re just looking for work. That’s all right.’

  Betsy, not trusting herself to speak as she realized she had got away with it, said, ‘Yes, I know what you mean. I feel like that too.’

  ‘With your looks you’d never have to, though,’ was Marie’s parting shot. ‘Can you manage now or d’you want me to get you anything?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine, and thanks Marie. See you tomorrow.’

  Whew, that was close, she thought. She must be careful.

  Although Betsy’s bad ankle inconvenienced her she was extra helpful in the kitchen, doing whatever she could sitting on a stool, and hobbling around when necessary. Marie, who, unlike the girls who had been with her at Wren Court, was not jealous of her beauty, fetched and carried and chattered. Her one taste of working upstairs had been a highlight and she talked about it constantly. What the room was like, what they talked about, ‘mostly the wedding,’ and of course, ‘Miss Lily’s intended.’ That she had only been up there on that one occasion made no difference. Listening to her you would imagine she knew them all well, Betsy thought, and she was more on her guard than ever when Sir Richard Choicely’s name was mentioned.

  At night, in her narrow and rather hard bed, it was Daniel and not Richard who occupied her thoughts. During the day she was busy and tried to concentrate on her work, but alone in her tiny room at night she did not try to stop thoughts of him crowding her mind. She pictured him on the farm, with the horses, with the cows, and getting himself a meal when work was over. Closing her eyes she saw their bedroom and felt his arms round her, his caresses and kisses the most real thing of her days and nights now.

  Was he missing her? Or had he shrugged the whole thing off? I shall never go back unless he seeks me, she thought one night as she brushed away the tears that had seeped from her closed eyes. That he could have even contemplated ‘selling’ her was the most hurtful thing ever to have happened to her.

  Remembering Rosa’s words she thought that if he said it in temper, and she admitted to herself this possibility now, then he would try to find her. But how? No one at her mother’s house would know and that was the only place he could try.

  She had no idea when she had come to this household as kitchen-maid that it was the home of Sir Richard Choicely’s fiancée. If she had realized that she would not have taken the position.

  Her panic at finding Richard upstairs and then trying to conceal herself from him began to take on a new aspect. If she could be sure, as her friend Rosa seemed to be, that it was all a dreadful misunderstanding, then she would return to Daniel. But how could she be sure? And would he want her back.

  They loved each other, but they were both stubborn people and, miserable as she was without him, she would not risk the straw halter. After their three years together she knew that his beliefs had not changed, and if he had not been going to hold it over her at some time then he would have taken it down long ago. It was the one thing he had been utterly firm about on the few occasions when it had been mentioned.

  Determinedly she lifted her head. Maybe I am in a better position than I expected to be, she thought. At all costs I must hold on to this position. She slept better that night than for some while, in spite of the ache in her injured ankle.

  Chapter 13

  Sir Richard Choicely’s elder son Benjamin, who was at public school, was visiting for a few days and Lily and her parents came over to Chasebury Manor for a meal one evening. Benjamin had been named for his uncle because all the Choicely boys were named Richard, Benjamin or David, which was confusing when more than one generation was present. In this instance of cours
e there was only one Benjamin and one Richard there.

  It was a pleasant evening and after dinner they had coffee on the terrace. Benjamin had met Lily before but not her parents, and it was quite a jolly family party who watched night descend over the garden. The moon shone on the shrubs and trees which stretched into the distance, making them glow both romantically and eerily.

  ‘This is such a beautiful place,’ Lily said quietly to Richard, ‘it’s exactly right, big enough to entertain yet not too large to be homely.’

  ‘You will be happy here, won’t you, Lily?’

  ‘Of course. If I am with you I will be happy wherever we are, Richard.’

  He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. ‘What a lucky man I am,’ he said softly in her ear, then, turning to the others, ‘Shall we go inside, the air becomes more chilly about now.’

  When they had left in their carriage after Lily lingered for a last goodnight kiss, Richard went indoors, but did not go straight to bed. Instead he went into his study and took from the desk the drawing he had done of Betsy Forrester. Why did that woman’s face haunt him? Was it those eyes that he knew he had not quite captured in his sketch? Eyes that had depths and colour such as he had seldom seen. His mother and brother Benjamin had both been blessed with expressive eyes, but Betsy’s made you catch your breath. He wondered what it would be like to hold her in his arms and lose himself in the sea of changing shades of blue. What it would be like to let his hands stroke her long black hair, to kiss those lips, to undress her and … Angrily he thrust the drawing from him and strode round the room, his body on fire.