Rich Girl, Poor Girl

by Val Wood

  For the wedding breakfast they were served with chicken in aspic, cold meat, and poacher’s soup, which contained venison, game, celery and wine; baked carp with orange sauce, lemon sorbet, and a main course of braised venison with claret, loin of pork with sage and onion stuffing, and spit-roasted wild duck. There were crisp roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots sautéed in butter and braised cabbage; for the dessert a selection of rich syllabubs and flummery, fruit fools and chocolate puddings, jellies, and by special request from the groom a jam roly-poly served with hot custard.

  Phew! I’m stuffed, Polly thought as she shook her head at the offer of dessert. Never in my life have I eaten so much. She felt slightly guilty as she thought of how her mother had scrimped and saved to afford even the most basic of meals. It’s only a few months since I was wondering how I’d survive, and now I’m refusing food.

  Luke stood up to welcome everyone and to thank them for coming to join in the celebration of the marriage.

  ‘I have known Anna for very many years,’ he said. ‘Her husband and I were good friends and I was devastated when he was taken from us at such an early age. My wife Jane, whom many of you knew, also died whilst still young.’

  He looked at Clementina who sat very still, but with a tear trickling down her cheek; at Edwin, who stared stonily back at him. And then at Jonathan and Elizabeth who were watching and listening intently.

  ‘It has not been easy for our children to lose their parents, and in this I include my nephew Howard who has been like another son to me. And it has been difficult for Anna and me to bring up our families without the help of a loving partner by our side. But’ – he smiled down at Anna – ‘it did not occur to either of us to consider marriage to anyone else. And then’ – he smiled broadly – ‘after all the dark years, I saw the light. I saw Anna as a loving, faithful wife and mother and I knew that I could love her, and thankfully, for better or worse, she found she could love me.’

  He swallowed hard and said in a voice which occasionally cracked with emotion, ‘I want to explain to our children that it doesn’t mean that we love their mother or father any less. We have those fond memories to keep for ever, and now we have the chance to make some more together.’

  He raised his glass and everyone stood up, many of them wiping away tears. ‘I give you a toast,’ he said. ‘To love.’

  Rosalie couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Luke had waited a long time for his second chance of happiness. Would her father take the same path and marry again? I wouldn’t blame him if he did, she thought. If at some future time he should find someone to love, I wouldn’t object. But he has his career to sustain him, and I don’t really think that he is a family man.

  Howard sat quietly next to Polly and she glanced at him, seeing that he had been affected by his inclusion in Luke’s speech. She slipped her hand into his and he turned to her and with a wistful smile he gently squeezed it.

  ‘What a tear-jerker, eh?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘And haven’t we been lucky? You to have had your uncle and me to find Rosalie.’

  He nodded. ‘What a courageous girl you are, Polly. You find good fortune in everything.’

  She looked at him and smiled. ‘No point in looking on ’black side. When you’ve been at ’bottom of ’heap like I have, there’s onny one way to go and that’s up.’

  ‘You’re a tonic, Polly,’ he said. ‘I wish—’ He stopped and smiled back at her.

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ His eyes swept over her. ‘How old are you, Polly?’

  ‘Seventeen. I had my birthday in January same as Rosalie, ’cept that she’s a few days older. Why?’

  ‘Just wondered,’ he said, and then stopped as Luke stood up once more to ask if Cook and Mrs Moody would come in. When they did, he thanked them both for the tremendous effort they had made to put on such a sumptuous meal and reception. Then several other people stood up to say a piece and no one seemed to notice that Edwin had left the room. As Polly looked round, she saw that so had Dora.

  Edwin had held on to Dora’s elbow as she’d leaned over to clear away the dessert dishes to make room for champagne glasses.

  ‘Meet me in the usual place in half an hour, Dora,’ he muttered.

  She gasped. ‘I can’t, Mr Edwin,’ she said. ‘I’ll get found out.’

  ‘Half an hour,’ he said firmly. ‘Nobody’ll miss you. There’s too much going on. Mrs Moody will think you’re clearing dishes. Do you hear?’

  She bit her lip. ‘I’ll lose my job.’

  He patted her thigh and then bent as if to pick something up from under the table and grasped her ankle. ‘No you won’t. I’ll make sure of it. Thick stockings, Dora,’ he murmured. ‘Have to do something about those.’

  Dora’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know who she was more afraid of, Mrs Moody or Mr Edwin. But she would have to do as he said. He’d be angry if she didn’t. Once before she had refused and he’d threatened that he would tell Sam and Mrs Moody. Today Sam would be with Amos, busy looking after all the horses. They would also be very merry because Mr Kingston had arranged for a barrel of ale to be given to all the workers and a table had been set up in the stable yard with enormous platters of meat and steak and apple pies.

  Edwin had taken her to the potting shed, which was set beyond the orchard and behind the stable. This, he said, was to be their special place, for the old gardener only came to it in the early morning to collect his tools. She’d shaken with fright and shame, but that only seemed to excite him all the more and she hardly dared refuse his demands on her.

  She slipped out of the side door of the kitchen as Cook and Mrs Moody and some of the hired menservants were sitting at the table eating and drinking. Mrs Moody was quite merry and unlike her usual dour self since the public compliments from Mr Kingston, and failed to notice Dora’s departure.

  ‘What can I do?’ Dora whimpered. What if Sam finds out or even catches us? He’ll not believe that Mr Edwin’s forcing me, she thought. I’m afraid of losing my job, but if I don’t go with Mr Edwin he’ll make it so difficult for me that Mrs Moody will sack me anyway.

  She was breathing heavily when she reached the shed. She opened the door and for a moment she thought it was empty and that Edwin hadn’t come. She was about to back out when he suddenly jumped out from behind the door and grabbed her. She almost screamed, she was so surprised, but Edwin pulled her inside.

  ‘Ha! Got you! You were going to run away, weren’t you?’ He started to unfasten her apron strings. ‘Why on earth have you come out in your apron? Anybody can see you in this starched white. Besides,’ he yanked it off roughly, ‘you should have come prepared. I hope you’ve taken off those awful stockings.’

  She began to cry. ‘Please, Mr Edwin. I don’t want you to do those things to me. I’m afraid. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ He put his face close to hers and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. ‘You love it! This is what you’ll do if you ever marry Sam!’ He gave a coarse laugh. ‘That is if he’ll marry you when he finds out I’ve been here first.’

  He lifted her skirts and ripped down her stocking tops and on discovering that she wasn’t wearing any under drawers he closed his eyes and gasped. ‘Oh, Dora! What a lovely girl you are,’ he muttered. ‘You’re just what every man wants.’

  ‘I’m not, sir. Please, Mr Edwin, I’m not. I don’t want—’

  ‘Turn round,’ he ordered brusquely. ‘And shut up!’

  He pushed her roughly against the bench, forcing her down amongst the clay pots and trowels so that her cheek was resting against the scratchy splintered wood.

  ‘This is what I’m going to do, Dora,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘and then,’ he whispered again, ‘this is what you’re going to do!’

  She moaned. ‘Please! Please don’t.’ She sobbed, but he laughed when she did, and then he seemed to get angry for he grabbed her thighs so hard she was sure they would
be bruised.

  ‘A toast,’ he muttered scathingly as he pushed into her. ‘To love! What rot! This is what it’s all about, isn’t it, Dora? Don’t you love it? Isn’t this what life’s about? And you’re going to get such a rollicking, such a trouncing, that you’ll never forget it!’

  She wanted to scream with the pain, but he put his hand over her mouth; she thought she would choke, and gasped and retched, her saliva wetting his hand as her body took his battering; there was nothing she could say and nothing she could do to stop him. It was no use appealing to his better nature for he didn’t have one. He was beyond restraint, determined to master her, to control her with his body, his power. I’ll leave, she thought as she fought to keep back her tears. But where will I go?

  When he had finished with her he gazed at her, his mouth twitching, and picking up her apron he threw it at her. ‘Bitch!’ he said. ‘Slut! If you so much as breathe a word of this I shall deny it and you’ll be out on your ear.’

  Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. ‘And I’ll see you again soon, Dora.’ He jerked his body towards her and she was afraid he would start again, but he was spent, no energy left. He patted her cheek and smiled. ‘Don’t forget,’ he murmured. ‘Our little secret.’

  He went out first, leaving her to put her apron and cap on and calm her throbbing body. She opened the door and looked out. There was no one about, although she could hear the sound of laughter and merrymaking.

  Everybody’s happy but me, she thought. This is a day that everybody’s enjoying, even the servants. She felt a sob rising in her chest and felt sick at what he had forced her to do, but she took a deep breath and stepped out and walked towards the house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Anna moved into Nab Farm after the wedding and left her own farm in the capable hands of her foreman. Elizabeth came with her and her governess too, and Jonathan went back to school.

  Clementina seemed more settled but told Rosalie that she would go to Scarborough in the summer. ‘You may come if you wish,’ she said generously, to which Rosalie replied that she would love to, providing that Polly could come too. Clementina shrugged and said no more about it.

  Sonny had stayed on for a few more days after the wedding and then left, saying he would be back in the autumn.

  ‘Won’t you come for the grouse?’ Luke had asked him. ‘I can lend you a gun.’

  Sonny had smiled. ‘I’ll come, if I may, sir, but not for the shooting. There are other things I’d rather do.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Luke said amiably. ‘You’re very welcome anyway.’

  He welcomed everybody. Anyone could stay and so the house was often full to overflowing with friends and visitors, but none expected to be entertained for Luke went about his daily business and so did Howard, although Edwin was often in the house rather than on the moor or the farm.

  Rosalie’s father took his leave of her two days after the wedding, telling her that he must return to his regiment. ‘I promise that I’ll come back before I go abroad,’ he’d said. ‘But now I must return.’

  ‘But it’s a long way, Papa, for such a short visit, and you said you had some news to discuss with me.’

  ‘So I did,’ he said. ‘But it will keep until next time.’ He looked at her. ‘I can see you have settled here, Rosalie, but do not get too comfortable. Next time I come I want to discuss your future. It will be more convenient, I feel, if you come to live in Aldershot, where I will see more of you.’ He bent and pecked her cheek. ‘There are people there whom I feel you could become fond of; but it is too soon.’ He turned and gazed out of the window and Rosalie felt that he was avoiding her eye. ‘I’ll discuss it another time.’

  ‘There are people here that I am fond of, Papa,’ she’d replied firmly. ‘I like it here. I’m not saying that I don’t want to visit other places, I do, but for the moment I’m happy here.’

  He turned back and gazed at her. ‘Your friend Miss Parker. Where did you say you’d met her? Not socially, I think?’

  ‘I – we met in Hull. She’s a good friend. We have much in common. She lost her mother at the same time as I, and was left alone as I was.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I should have come, but everything had been done by the time I received the news.’

  Rosalie said nothing in response. Yes, he should have come to give her support and a shoulder to cry on if nothing else, she thought.

  ‘Have you been to see Mama’s grave?’

  ‘N-no. Not yet,’ he answered. ‘But I will as I pass through Hull, and I’ll also call at the house to make sure all is well there. And as I was saying, Miss Parker? She’s from the servant class, I think, Rosalie. What was she? A domestic? Kitchen maid?’

  ‘What she was doesn’t matter,’ Rosalie said. She felt like crying. How hard he was. How unfeeling. He had not given her the comfort she needed when her mother died and now he was questioning her friendship with the one person who had helped her through that difficult time. ‘What matters is that she’s my friend now.’

  ‘You have changed, Rosalie,’ her father said bleakly. ‘You have become – bold. You’re not the sweet demure child you once were. But it is my fault perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘I should have come earlier and taken you back with me.’

  Rosalie faced him. ‘I’m no longer a child, Father. I’ve had much to contend with, and that is why I have changed.’

  ‘True,’ he acknowledged. ‘And I must make reparation. You are still young and in need of the guidance of someone who is able to advise you, as your mother did. Someone who can introduce you into society.’

  She was astonished at his words, but he had left then and she couldn’t help but think that there was more to be said, and her father had deliberately avoided saying whatever it was that he had originally intended.

  It was a warm sunny day, the primroses were in flower on the banks of the streams, the trees were in full leaf, the air was ringing with birdsong and there was a constant sound of rushing water from the becks and the bleat of new lambs as they hopped, skipped and jumped round their mothers.

  Howard put his head round the dining room door. ‘When you’ve finished breakfast will you come out to the stables? I’ve got something to show you.’

  Anna and Elizabeth had breakfasted early. Anna had brought her grey Connemara horse with her to the farm. She had great riding ability and managed not only to handle her mount well, but to look elegant and confident too. Her daughter Elizabeth rode a sturdy Welsh cob and she too was a competent horsewoman. Both had gone off this morning to exercise their horses on the moor so there were just Rosalie, Polly and Clementina at the table. Clementina looked up from her plate and looked at him questioningly, but he indicated with his thumbs that he meant Rosalie and Polly.

  Clemmie nodded conspiratorially and said, ‘I’ll come too, shall I?’

  Rosalie and Polly glanced at each other. ‘What?’ they both said. ‘Has Floss had her pups?’ Polly squealed.

  ‘She has,’ Howard said. ‘But it’s not just that. Something else too.’

  Polly hastily pushed her chair back. ‘She’s never had kittens as well!’

  Howard grinned. ‘No, just six pups, all healthy. You can have your pick, but come on; I want to show you something.’

  They hurried outside, not stopping to pick up shawls which were in any case unnecessary on such a beautiful day.

  The pups were adorable and Polly longed to pick one up, but Howard advised her not to. ‘The mother will reject them if they are handled so soon,’ he said. ‘Wait a few days more and then she won’t mind.’

  Polly sighed. ‘Oh, I want the little black and white,’ she said. ‘See, the one with white tips to her ears and on her paws. I’ll call her Tippy.’

  Rosalie laughed. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had a dog. Which shall I have? That one, with the brown marking. Is it a male or a female?’

  Howard confessed he didn’t know yet. ‘We’ll have to wait a bit. Now come on,
’ he said again. ‘There’s a present waiting for you both.’

  ‘A present? What do you mean?’ Polly was flabbergasted. She’d never had a present, or at least only from her mother at Christmas and then perhaps only a ribbon.

  Howard led them round the corner of the coach house block to the loose boxes where Sam was grooming one of the horses, a dark brown with a shiny coat and a long thick tail. Inside one of the stalls was another horse with an even darker coat.

  ‘Are they new?’ Rosalie asked. ‘I don’t recall seeing them before.’

  ‘Bought last week at Egton Bridge,’ Howard said. ‘They arrived first thing this morning. What do you think? Clementina chose them.’

  ‘Oh, how handsome.’ Polly ran her hand over the horse’s neck. ‘What kind of horse is this?’

  ‘He’s a Fell pony,’ Clementina said. ‘And this one,’ she opened the stable door and led the other horse out, ‘is a Dales pony. They’re very similar, probably a related breed.’

  Rosalie came forward and tentatively stroked it. ‘Such a lovely coat.’

  ‘Don’t be nervous,’ Clementina said. ‘He’s very good-natured. This is Damon. He’s a bit bigger than Hero but very docile and a steady ride. You’ll be perfectly safe on him, Rosalie.’

  ‘For me?’ Rosalie was astonished.

  Her cousin nodded. ‘And Hero is for Polly.’ She gave Polly a swift glance. ‘Papa said you must both learn to ride and I agreed to teach you.’

  ‘Oh!’ Polly breathed. ‘Thank you, Clementina. Thank you! I’ll take great care of him.’

  Clementina shrugged. ‘He’s not mine; I suppose he’s a house pony if anyone else should want to borrow him. I’ve got my own mount,’ she added superciliously.