Rich Girl, Poor Girl

by Val Wood

  His grandmother asked why he hadn’t asked Amos to come for the girls, or even Luke and Anna, who might have enjoyed the visit.

  ‘Oh, it’s no bother,’ he flustered. ‘And I enjoy seeing you, Grandmama. I don’t come often enough.’

  ‘That you don’t,’ she agreed. ‘So if these delightful young ladies come again, perhaps you’ll come too?’

  ‘Of course I will.’ He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘It’s always a pleasure.’

  ‘And perhaps Edwin will come with you? He never visits.’

  ‘I can’t speak for Edwin,’ Howard said flatly. ‘He sets his own plans.’

  They arrived back at Nab Farm as the sun was descending behind the high ridges, setting the moor ablaze with the purple and gold of heather and gorse.

  ‘I’ve missed it so much,’ Polly murmured. ‘I feel as if I’m coming home.’

  She had taken the area to her heart. The view of the high moors from her bedroom window; the rushing gushing waterfalls as they cascaded over shiny rocks into silver pools. The sight of the sheep as they grazed the heather; the sturdy stone cottages nestling into the hillside and the grouse and pheasant which she could now recognize since Howard had described them to her. Even a glimpse of a fox or a roe deer filled her with absolute delight.

  ‘Perhaps you have,’ Howard said softly. ‘Perhaps this is where you were meant to be.’

  She looked up; his voice was quiet and husky, not jovial as usual. His eyes met hers and she suddenly felt vulnerable and unsure of herself. She glanced round for Rosalie, but she had already gone inside the house.

  ‘It’s – it’s onny – only – because of Rosalie,’ she stammered. ‘I wouldn’t be here but for her, and her uncle of course,’ she added. ‘If he hadn’t wanted me I would have been on ’next train home.’

  He gave a sudden grin and she felt instant relief at seeing the easy-to-be-with Howard again.

  ‘Somebody would have rescued you and brought you back,’ he assured her. ‘We wouldn’t have let such a treasure escape.’

  ‘Silly,’ she said and gave him a tap on his arm. ‘You’re a jester.’

  ‘Of course I am,’ he agreed.

  She and Rosalie settled into a routine again, walking the dogs or riding out on to the moor and coming home exhilarated at the end of each day. Just before supper one evening, Anna called Polly into the room she had claimed as her own. It was a sunny room, lined with books and littered with sewing materials on every available surface. Despite her elegant appearance she was quite untidy and wouldn’t allow the servants to tidy away her ‘things’, as she called them.

  ‘I want to ask if you’ll do something for me, Polly,’ she said. ‘I’m a little worried about one of the servants and wonder if you could shed light on the matter. I’m still new to them and I don’t think I yet have their confidence.’

  So she knows, Polly thought. She knows I’m servant class, or else why didn’t she ask Rosalie? Or even Clementina when she comes home; she’s the daughter of the house after all. I’m onny a guest.

  ‘It’s Dora,’ Anna said. ‘She’s only a bit younger than you, I would think, and might confide in you.’ She smiled at her. ‘You’re so very easy to talk to.’

  I suppose it doesn’t matter if she does know, Polly pondered. If she does know and didn’t like me being here, she would have sent me packing before.

  ‘So would you talk to her?’ Anna asked, tilting her head to one side. ‘If you’d rather not I’d understand.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Polly murmured. ‘If you think it would help. I’d noticed that Dora was a bit quiet lately.’

  ‘I would be very grateful,’ Anna told her. ‘I thought at first that Mrs Moody might have scolded her about her work, but now I know that’s not the case because Mrs Moody herself came to me to say that she thought the girl was worried about something. I know,’ she commented, seeing Polly’s look of disbelief. ‘Mrs Moody is a bit of a tartar, isn’t she? But that’s because her commitment to the family is paramount.’

  ‘I see,’ Polly said, and wondered if she had misjudged the housekeeper, who was always dowly and offhand towards her. ‘All right, I’ll talk to Dora and try to find out if summat’s wrong. Something, I mean.’

  ‘I know what you mean, Polly,’ Anna said softly. ‘And you don’t have to pretend to be anyone you’re not. You’re open and honest and a joy to be with, just as you are.’

  Polly was so taken aback by this show of affection that tears spouted to her eyes. ‘Oh!’ Her mouth trembled. ‘You’re very kind, Mrs Kingston. Thank you.’

  She sought out Dora the next morning and ran her to ground in the yard, where the maid was leaning against a wall. She was crying.

  ‘Dora!’ Polly said. ‘What’s up? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Polly,’ Dora snuffled. ‘I just had to come out for a minute. Mrs Moody keeps on at me, saying I’m slow and I have to buck my ideas up.’ She lifted a corner of her apron and wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll go back in in a minute afore anybody misses me.’

  ‘No. Wait,’ Polly said. ‘Why are you crying? Is it because of Mrs Moody? Because if it is, I’ll have a word with Mrs Kingston. She’s noticed that you’re unhappy.’

  ‘Oh, no, please don’t.’ Dora seemed horrified at the idea and not a little hysterical. ‘It’s not Mrs Moody. At least,’ her tears started again, ‘not really.’

  ‘Can’t you tell me?’ Polly was at her most persuasive. ‘I’ve been through some hard times, Dora, believe me, and the worst is having nobody to turn to.’

  Dora shook her head and was consumed by tears. ‘No, miss,’ she blubbered and lifted her apron to cover her face. Then Polly observed her thickened waist.

  ‘Oh! Dora!’ Polly breathed. ‘Are you in ’pudding club?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Dora showed her red tearful face. ‘I am. I think I am. I don’t know for sure, cos I’ve nobody to ask.’

  ‘Well if you’re not, then you’ve put on a bit o’ weight. But you must know,’ Polly said. ‘There are other signs. Have you had a flux lately?’

  ‘No.’ Dora shook her head again. ‘Oh, Miss Polly, what am I going to do? I’ll lose my job; my ma won’t have me, and where will I go with a bairn to look after?’ She burst into another onslaught of crying.

  ‘But,’ Polly scratched her head in bewilderment, ‘what about its father? Is it Sam?’

  Dora put her fingers to her mouth and nibbled her nails. ‘Not Sam,’ she whispered. ‘I wish it was. Sam’s always behaved properly towards me and I hoped – I’d hoped that we’d walk out together. But not now we won’t. He won’t want me now.’

  ‘Some other lad then?’ Polly said. ‘I’ll come wi’ you to see him if you like. If you’re scared o’ telling him or his family. But he must know it’s happened. He can’t deny it.’

  Dora sniffed and took a breath. ‘Oh, he will,’ she said in a matter of fact tone. ‘He’ll deny it. He’ll say it wasn’t him.’

  ‘Who?’ Polly asked anxiously. ‘Who is it, then? You must say, Dora. It’s ’onny way we can help you.’

  Dora looked down at the ground. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She looked most unattractive with her red nose and her mouth turned down plaintively. ‘You’ll not believe me,’ she said. ‘Nobody will.’

  ‘Try me,’ Polly said. She was getting worried about the time this conversation was taking. At any minute Mrs Moody was likely to appear looking for Dora and then there would be trouble, for the housekeeper would be sure to winkle out the problem.

  Dora gave a gulp. ‘Mr Edwin, miss. He forced me.’ She began to cry again, great racking sobs which shook her body.

  Polly stared at her. ‘Edwin?’ she breathed. ‘No!’

  ‘There! Didn’t I say you wouldn’t believe me?’

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,’ Polly murmured, knowing full well that it could have been Edwin. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Weeks ago,’ Dora snuffled. ‘And not just once. He made me meet him time and
again. I didn’t want to. But he said he would tell Mrs Moody and he’d tell Sam how I egged him on if I didn’t. He hurt me, Miss Polly,’ she blurted out. ‘He wasn’t nice. He was horrible and I was scared of him.’

  Polly was silent. She was shaken by the revelation, but believed after her own experience with Edwin that he could be capable of violence. Poor Dora. How could she possibly make a stand against someone like him, the son of her employer?

  ‘Go inside,’ she said, ‘and tell Mrs Moody or whoever’s in ’kitchen that you feel ill and are going to bed. Then stay there while I think on what’s to be done.’

  Dora nodded, screwing up her apron with her fingers, but she seemed relieved that she had at last confided in someone.

  ‘You’ll not tell of me, Miss Polly? I don’t want anybody to find out.’

  ‘Dora,’ Polly said patiently, ‘this isn’t summat you can hide. You’re pregnant,’ she said bluntly. ‘There’ll be a bairn at ’end of it.’

  She had to tell, of course, and then it would be out of her hands. There was only one person she could confide in and that was Anna Kingston.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Anna sat quietly as Polly explained the situation. She appeared serene, her face impassive, but Polly could tell that she was upset by the way in which she clasped and unclasped her hands as they lay on her lap.

  Not a good start to a marriage, Polly thought, when you’re given the responsibility of telling your new husband that his son has raped a servant girl.

  ‘Do you believe her, Polly?’ she asked quietly. ‘Do you believe that Edwin could do such a terrible thing?’

  Polly swallowed. How to coat such a bitter pill and say that I know for certain that he could?

  ‘I don’t believe that Dora is lying, ma’am,’ she hedged. ‘I don’t think she’s capable of making up such a story.’

  Anna looked up at her. ‘I’m inclined to agree with you. She seems an inoffensive simple kind of girl – and I mean that in the kindest way – who couldn’t possibly calculate or devise such an appalling tale.’

  She patted the sofa next to her. ‘Please sit down, Polly. The thing is, how to tell my husband, for he must be told; and,’ she sighed, ‘what to do about Dora?’

  ‘Could I suggest,’ Polly said hesitantly, ‘that you speak to Dora first? She’s in a terrible state and afraid of being found out. She’s scared of losing her job, says that she can’t go home cos her ma won’t have her, and, well, to be honest, she’s at her wits’ end.’

  ‘Poor girl,’ Anna murmured. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘I told her to say that she was ill and go up to her room. ’Kitchen staff’ll be sure to put two and two together afore long.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Polly, but I think I’ll still speak to Luke first and we’ll see Dora together.’

  Polly was dubious about this, but it was out of her hands now and at Mrs Kingston’s request she went in search of Luke. She found him in the stable yard talking to Rosalie and Sam. Sam was brushing down Hero, whose coat was gleaming.

  ‘Ah, Polly. There you are.’ Rosalie was dressed in a dark green riding coat and divided skirt. ‘Shall we go out?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ Polly licked her lips. ‘Mr Kingston. Mrs Kingston wants to see you most urgently!’

  ‘Does she?’ Luke seemed startled. ‘What’s going on that my dear wife can’t manage?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘Can’t say, sir. But she needs to see you now.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ He put on a hangdog expression. ‘Better go then or I shall worry over what I might have done wrong,’ he joked.

  Polly walked back to the house with him, telling Rosalie that she would change her skirt and be only a few minutes.

  ‘What’s this all about, Polly?’ Luke murmured as they mounted the steps to the house. ‘Someone in trouble?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but I’m not at liberty to say.’ She looked up at him and wondered if he’d be angry or sad or if he would blame Dora for leading his son on.

  ‘Not you?’ he queried. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘No, sir.’ She smiled. ‘Not me. Mrs Kingston will tell you.’

  She left him at his wife’s sitting room door and started to hurry upstairs to change, but Anna came out and called softly to her.

  ‘Polly! Will you go up to Dora’s room and say that we wish to speak to her in half an hour? I want her to compose herself. Tell her not to be afraid,’ she added compassionately. ‘We’ll do what we can.’

  Polly continued up to the top floor and the maids’ dormitory. She tapped on the door and entered. It was a long room with six beds, chests of drawers and washstands in it. The windows were narrow but there were several of them along one wall, making the room quite light and airy.

  Dora was sitting on one of the beds. She looked up fearfully as Polly came in.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘I’ve told Mrs Kingston. Don’t worry,’ she added as Dora gasped. ‘She said you mustn’t be afraid.’

  ‘It’s not her it’s happening to, is it?’ Dora wailed. ‘I am afraid. And what will Mr Edwin say? He’ll say I’m lying, that’s what, and they’ll believe him. Course they will.’ Tears flooded down her cheeks. ‘Why would they believe me? I’m nobody.’

  ‘Dora, you have to trust us. Somebody has to take charge of ’situation. Go down in half an hour to see Mrs Kingston. It’ll just give her ’chance to speak to Mr Kingston and—’

  Dora thrust her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. ‘Not Mr Kingston!’ she begged. ‘What’ll he think?’

  ‘I hope he’ll think that Edwin is a villain,’ Polly murmured as she left. ‘But who knows?’

  She changed into a riding skirt and hurried downstairs and out to where Rosalie was impatiently waiting.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ she scolded. ‘We’re wasting the morning.’

  How eager Rosalie was nowadays, Polly thought. She loved to be out on horseback and was becoming very proficient.

  Sam helped them both to mount and they moved off out of the yard and up towards the top moor behind the farm. It was a beautiful day with barely a cloud in the sky.

  ‘I’ll tell you what delayed me in a minute,’ Polly murmured. ‘There’s going to be such a cat among ‘pigeons this morning it’s as well that we’re out of ’house.’

  Rosalie turned an enquiring glance towards her but Polly wouldn’t be drawn until they were well up the hillside and heading towards the summit where Polly had first met Luke Kingston, and they could look down at the farm below.

  ‘Mrs Kingston asked me if I’d have a word with Dora,’ she explained. ‘Mrs Moody’s been concerned about her work and thought that there was something wrong. And there is. She thinks she’s pregnant.’

  Rosalie gasped. ‘Oh! How dreadful! Is it Sam’s? I’ve seen her near the stables once or twice. Oh, no!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Don’t tell me! It isn’t something we should gossip about.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ Polly agreed and urged Hero onwards to continue up the hill. ‘But we’re going to hear about it anyway. It isn’t Sam’s child,’ she added. ‘He’s not to blame.’

  ‘Not Sam?’ Rosalie drew alongside her. ‘Then – who?’

  ‘You said you didn’t want to know,’ Polly said quizzically, thinking that the reason Mrs Kingston had asked her to find out about Dora was because she suspected it might be something unsavoury, and thought that she, Polly, wouldn’t shy away from hearing about it. A woman of the world, I am, she reflected.

  ‘Well ...’ Rosalie hesitated. ‘I – I don’t really, but I confess I’m curious. There’s no one else. It must be Sam. Is he denying it?’

  Polly reined in at the summit and looked about her; which way should they ride today? ‘No,’ she said. ‘Sam doesn’t know about it yet and Dora said he’s never touched her.’

  ‘Then who? There are no other young men at Nab Farm who—’ Rosalie stopped. ‘Oh,’ she said softly. ‘Of course there are, but – they wouldn’t! Not Howard
or Edwin!’

  ‘Don’t even think of Howard,’ Polly said sharply, forgetting completely who she was speaking to. ‘Howard would never—’ She swallowed. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized. ‘But he wouldn’t. He’s – such a gentleman, in spite of his jokes and being merry and easy-going and – and everything.’ Her words tailed away and Rosalie stared at her in bewilderment.

  ‘I didn’t mean to suggest it was Howard,’ she murmured. ‘I was only – not Edwin? Surely not?’

  Polly nodded. Her own spontaneous outburst had startled her. Why did I do that, she thought. For all we know it could have been anyone, including Howard. The idea of it sickened her even though it was beyond reason.

  ‘Yes. Edwin,’ she responded quietly. ‘That’s who Dora said. And I believe her, because he’d tried to shame me.’

  ‘No!’ Rosalie said. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  Polly shrugged. ‘Because you’d have treated him differently had you known, so it was better that you didn’t. But Howard knows,’ she added.

  ‘Howard!’ Rosalie was aghast. ‘How could you discuss such a thing with another man?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Polly said reluctantly. ‘He just happened to come along at ’right time. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget it.’

  The whole incident had come back to her, when she thought it had gone away. She avoided Edwin whenever possible, but whenever they did meet she felt his eyes upon her and was sure he was gloating.

  ‘Let’s ride over to Ramsdale,’ she suggested, ‘and take a look at ‘standing stones. Howard told me about them and said we could see ’coast from up there.’ Polly was intrigued by the ancient monoliths and stones which could be found all over the moors.

  ‘It’s a long way,’ Rosalie demurred. ‘But still, we’ve plenty of time and no need to rush back.’

  They broke into a trot and the ponies responded, their ears pricking up as they moved across the vast moor where the sheep cropped amongst the heather and skittered away as they drew near. High in the blue sky a buzzard wheeled and they could hear the defensive repeated warning of red grouse hidden deep in the old heather, the cocks noisy and aggressive as their territory was approached.