Rich Girl, Poor Girl

by Val Wood

  Rosalie looked at her; she seemed so content within herself. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘You seem to be so wise.’

  ‘Because, my dear,’ Mrs Carleton raised her head, and gazing through the veil of her hat seemed to be contemplating neither sea nor sky but some other place which only she knew, ‘I am a complete Romantic. When I was seventeen I ran away with the man I loved. Whom I have always loved, even though he has now gone from me. Were I to advise you, I would say what others would regard as totally unwise. I would say that when your Mr Blake returns, if you feel the same as you do now, you should follow your heart.’

  Two days later, as Rosalie and Mrs Carleton were sitting in the window drinking coffee, they saw Howard and Polly arrive in the trap.

  ‘Oh, my dears.’ Mrs Carleton put out her hand to greet them. ‘I’m not ready to relinquish my companion just yet.’

  Howard bent to kiss her cheek and Polly dipped her knee. ‘We haven’t come to take her back,’ Howard said. ‘We’ve come to stay, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Oh, yes! How lovely,’ his grandmother exclaimed. ‘What a treat! You are usually too busy to come.’

  ‘Clemmie rushed home because her father had written to tell her about Edwin.’ He glanced at Rosalie, who gave a little shake of her head, and then back at his grandmother. ‘I’ll explain that in a moment,’ he added. ‘And then Polly received Rosalie’s letter to say she had arrived in Scarborough.’

  ‘And Mr Kingston said that Howard deserved a holiday and so did I,’ Polly volunteered, ‘and we should come to Scarborough to visit you. He said that you wouldn’t mind,’ she added as an afterthought.

  ‘So you’re both going to stay?’ Mrs Carleton asked. ‘How lovely,’ she said again, when they both nodded. She rang for another pot of coffee.

  ‘I hope it’s not a bother to you, Mrs Carleton?’ Polly said.

  Mrs Carleton’s eyes gleamed. ‘Not a bother at all,’ she said. ‘And I can make such plans.’

  ‘Grandmother!’ Howard said in a warning voice.

  She raised her eyebrows at him and assumed a haughty manner. ‘Yes, Howard? I was going to say that we could go to a concert at the Spa, or perhaps these young ladies might like to take a walk on the sands? Or,’ she continued, ‘there are of course two bays at Scarborough, but to see the North Bay you must take a carriage ride and walk or else go up to the castle cliffs and look down at it.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Polly said. ‘So much to do! How long may we stay?’

  ‘Only until the day after tomorrow,’ Howard interrupted. ‘I have to get back. The sheep won’t wait, but Clemmie needed time to be with her father, and he needed to be with her.’

  That evening Mrs Carleton ordered a carriage to take them to the Spa to listen to a concert in the Gothic Saloon. Polly was enthralled once again. The wonderful music, and behind the music she could hear the sound of the sea, a gentle sighing as the waves kissed the sands.

  I’m so happy, she thought. If there’s nothing else in my life I shall always remember this.

  After the concert was over they stood outside on the terrace and Howard ordered sherry for his grandmother and coffee for himself, Rosalie and Polly.

  ‘Won’t you join me in a glass of sherry, Howard?’ his grandmother asked.

  He said no, not just now, perhaps later when they were back at the house. ‘Would anyone like a walk on the sands?’ he asked. ‘Look how white they are, bleached by the moon.’

  ‘Silver,’ Polly said. ‘Silver sand.’ She was filled with a strange excitement. ‘And a silver sea; look how it glistens. I’d like to go down, please. Wouldn’t you, Rosalie? Mrs Carleton?’

  ‘Not for me, my dear. I’ll sit here and watch you.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Rosalie said. ‘I’ll stay here too, but tomorrow I shall buy a bathing costume and go in the water. But you go with Howard.’

  Howard looked down at Polly, who was hurriedly finishing her coffee. ‘Don’t rush,’ he said, amused. ‘It won’t go away. The sea is here for ever.’

  There was a path down the cliff side and Howard took Polly’s arm to guide her; she was perfectly capable of walking down herself, even though it was steep, but she didn’t say so as she thought it was very noble of Howard to assist her as if she were a lady and not just a ragamuffin urchin used to doing everything for herself.

  She took a deep breath when they reached the sands and then turned back to look up and wave to the dark figure she guessed to be Rosalie standing on the terrace looking down at them.

  ‘This is so lovely,’ she exclaimed. She linked her arm in Howard’s as they walked across the damp sand. ‘Do you know, I was just thinking back there, as I listened to ’music, that even if nothing else nice happened in my life, I’d have had enough already to last me for ever.’

  Howard put his other hand over hers. ‘I’m sure lots of other nice things will happen to you, Polly. All the good things will gravitate towards you, like bees to a flower.’

  She looked sideways at him. ‘I’d miss you if I had to go away,’ she said. ‘You know – if—’

  ‘I know,’ he interrupted. ‘If Rosalie leaves. But you mustn’t live your life round Rosalie. You’ve a life of your own to lead.’

  ‘But I’ve so much to thank her for. I wouldn’t be here having such a lovely time if it wasn’t for her.’

  ‘I realize that,’ he said. ‘But I’m talking about the future. Your future.’ His fingers stroked her hand and she looked questioningly at him. ‘Your future without Rosalie, I mean,’ he said.

  She stopped walking and gazed out at the sea. A huge moon had risen and was casting its light on the waves.

  ‘Harvest moon,’ he said vaguely, as if she had asked him a question about it. ‘She won’t always be here. One day she’ll go away and live her life without you.’

  ‘The moon?’ she asked softly.

  ‘No! Rosalie!’

  ‘If she does go away,’ Polly murmured, ‘then ’sensible thing would be for me to go back to Hull.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘Because I’d be with my own kind.’ She paused. ‘When I’m on ’moor I feel that I don’t ever want to leave it, and yet I don’t really belong there. I’m just a street lass. I should go back to ’town where I was born; to people who know me so I don’t have to pretend to myself that I’m summat I’m not.’

  He turned her round to face him. ‘Polly, have you heard a word of what I’ve been saying?’

  She looked up at him. The light from the moon was bleaching his fair hair so that it looked almost white, and she gazed at him with parted lips. He looks like a picture of an angel I once saw, she thought. But an angel he’s not.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I heard you.’

  I know what you’re saying, she thought. That I must live my life without Rosalie. Suddenly, without warning, she felt weepy and emotional. That I can do, but what I can’t do, or at least don’t want to do, is live my life without you.

  Clemmie had sobbed in her father’s arms when she arrived after a breakneck drive home. ‘I always knew there was something wrong with Edwin,’ she said. ‘He was often unkind to me. He used to say I was ugly, and he was horrid to Howard. He used to encourage me to be nasty to him too, because he was jealous of him.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Luke said. ‘How blind I was.’

  ‘Mama knew,’ Clemmie said. ‘She was fond of Howard, and tried to protect him, and that made Edwin even worse.’

  ‘There’s something else I want to tell you,’ her father said. ‘But it’s good news; at least I hope you’ll think it is. Come along.’ He took her arm. ‘Come and say hello to Anna and Elizabeth. They’re waiting for you.’

  Anna and her daughter were in the sitting room. Anna was sewing something small and white and Elizabeth had a book on her knee. Elizabeth got up from her chair when they entered the room and came to greet Clementina. She kissed her cheek and said shyly, ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come home. You’ve been away such a long time.�
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  Clemmie blinked at this show of affection, and when Anna patted the seat beside her and asked her to come and sit down she did so, leaning over to kiss Anna’s upturned cheek.

  ‘We’re so glad to see you back again, Clementina,’ Anna said softly. ‘We’ve missed you, and we want to hear all that you’ve been doing in Scarborough. And we’ve something to tell you.’ She lifted up the garment she was sewing. ‘Can you see what this is?’

  Clemmie took it from her. ‘It’s so sweet. It’s – it looks like a tiny nightgown.’ She gazed at Anna, and then turned to Elizabeth, who was smiling gleefully. ‘Is it?’

  ‘It is,’ Anna said. ‘You and Elizabeth are going to have a sister or brother in the spring.’

  ‘And Jonathan,’ Elizabeth reminded her.

  ‘Yes,’ her mother said. ‘And Edwin too.’ Her gaze was concentrated on Clementina. ‘Are you pleased?’ she asked anxiously.

  Clemmie let out a breath. ‘Yes,’ she said huskily, and a tear ran down her cheek. ‘I am.’ She took hold of Elizabeth’s hand and gently squeezed it. ‘Very pleased.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The winter began in November and was raw and cold. In December the snow began and soon lay thick on the ground. The road to the farm became almost impassable except on horseback or by the most intrepid of travellers.

  ‘’Difference for me,’ Polly tramped down the moor after offering to help Howard and Amos look for sheep lost in the snow – they’d rescued one and found a dead one beside it – ‘between here and town is that there’s a blazing fire to come home to. Listen. I can hear ... there.’ She held up a finger. ‘There’s one.’

  A plaintive bleat came from against a stone wall.

  ‘Aye, you’re right,’ Amos said, and strode across the snow towards the wall with his spade across his shoulder. ‘There’s another over here.’

  They rescued two more and shepherded them closer to the house, then decided that they could do no more as darkness was drawing in. Most of the flock seemed to know when bad weather was coming and brought themselves down near the farm, but there were always some who became separated.

  In another week it would be Christmas. The postman, who had battled through blizzard conditions to bring their letters, gave them the news that the queen’s husband, Prince Albert, had died just a few days before, on the fourteenth of December. The postie sat in the kitchen warming his toes by the range and sipping hot tea and told them that the whole country would be in mourning and that the funeral would be on the twenty-third; that church bells would be muffled and ships’ flags would be flown at half mast.

  Polly and Rosalie had been dreading the anniversary of their mothers’ deaths and this news gave the date an extra poignancy. All the ladies in the house wore dark clothing and Luke, Howard and Jonathan wore black armbands.

  Rosalie received a short letter from her father, sending Christmas greetings and condolences in her mother’s memory. She also received a letter from Sonny.

  She opened it eagerly in the privacy of her room, but she could just as easily have opened it in company, for it told her merely that he had completed his commission for the countess, who in turn had recommended him to someone else, and he was now in Verona. Such a romantic place, he had written, with beautiful buildings and architecture. There are splendid palaces and squares – ’piazzas’ he had put in brackets – and it is a rich and prosperous town, which is why I cannot stay long and will return very soon to Florence, where I have rented a studio.

  ‘Verona,’ she breathed. ‘Home of Romeo and Juliet.’ She chided herself for being starry-eyed and fanciful; but she was heartened by his last few words on a separate page. Italy is a wonderful country, but it would be even lovelier if there were someone else here to share its beauty with me.

  She carefully folded that page and put it in a drawer, and then took the rest of the letter downstairs to read to Polly.

  Since Edwin’s departure, the atmosphere in the house had lightened; he was now undergoing medical treatment in a private institution near York. Luke had been to visit him and had found him much calmer. Clementina was friendlier than she had been and seemed excited about the new baby, due in March; she and Elizabeth had vied with each other in their sewing to add to the baby’s layette. Rosalie too had done some embroidery and smocking, though she wisely drew back from contributing unless she was asked, for as she confided to Polly it wasn’t going to be her brother or sister to fuss over, but only a cousin.

  They both spent Christmas Eve quietly, each of them mourning in her own way. ‘It’ll be hard when this babby comes,’ Polly said. ‘We’re bound to be thinking on what might have been.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Except I know that if Ma – if my ma had given birth to a living bairn, we’d have been in dire straits. How would we have managed? We’d have finished up in ’workhouse, more’n likely.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what that would have been like,’ Rosalie confessed. ‘What a sheltered life I’ve lived, Polly. How could I have not known what was happening in my own town? It was meant to be that we met each other, and it was to each of us an advantage.’

  Polly had agreed. Her former life and poverty were slowly fading in her memory, but she knew that she should always remember in order to savour the life she was living now.

  On Christmas Day, after a huge dinner, Anna rested on the sofa, Clemmie, Elizabeth, Jonathan and Luke played cards, and Rosalie took out a book to read. Polly sat by the fire feeling restless. She needed something to do.

  Howard was watching her. ‘Would you like some fresh air, Polly? We could take the horses and ride. They need some exercise.’

  ‘Yes, please. Rosalie?’

  ‘Mm? What? Oh, no thank you. Too cold.’

  Polly ran up to change and put on warm stockings and a woollen hat and scarf, then ran down again and took a thick padded coat from a downstairs cupboard.

  Howard laughed when he saw her struggling into it. ‘I’m pleased you’re not bothered about the latest fashion, Polly.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said, her voice muffled beneath the scarf. ‘I don’t know who this coat belongs to but it suits me fine.’

  He turned up the collar so that it covered her ears. ‘It was once mine. I hadn’t the heart to get rid of it even when I outgrew it.’

  ‘When you were a boy, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. Luke bought it for me because I was always outside even when it was cold. It suits you.’ He grinned. ‘You can call it yours.’

  The dogs were waiting eagerly by the door with their tails wagging, and raced down the steps as soon as they were let out.

  They saddled up Polly’s pony and Howard’s mount, put Damon on a leading rein and set off across the moor, the dogs keeping pace with them. The sun was low but brilliant and they had to shield their eyes from the brightness of the snow, which was melting and showing rock and greenery beneath.

  ‘Where shall we go?’ Polly asked. ‘We can’t be too long as it gets dark so early now.’

  ‘As far as High Ridge House, then?’ Howard said. ‘That’s about the right distance for us to be home before sunset.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Polly said. ‘I really like ’view from up there.’

  ‘So do I,’ he agreed. ‘My favourite.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Polly said as they trotted, the horses’ hooves kicking up a flurry of snow. ‘I often think – well, I wonder anyway – what it would be like to live up there. ‘View would be different every day depending on ’season and ’weather.’

  Howard nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was concentrating on what he would say, exactly, when they reached the house.

  They were warm by the time they got there, though the air through their nostrils felt sharp. The dogs sniffed about for rabbits and dug in the snow whilst they went inside with the three horses, who stamped and snorted vaporous breath and pushed against their shoulders.

  ‘All right. All right,’ Howard said, patting their necks. ‘We’ll be off in a minute. Polly, look
over there.’ He pointed towards a heap of boulders which the sun was causing to shine like glass. In front of the boulders a roe deer stood perfectly still, only its erect head slowly turning as it surveyed the scene, particularly the dogs, who it seemed hadn’t seen it yet.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Polly breathed and gazed with her lips parted. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’

  She turned her head to speak to Howard and found him looking down at her.

  ‘What?’ she said, brushing her gloved hand across her nose. ‘Have I got a red nose?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

  She sniffed. ‘So have you,’ she retorted, and lifted her fist to cuff him.

  He caught hold of her wrist. ‘I’m going to live here.’

  ‘What?’ Her forehead creased. ‘When?’

  ‘Soon. I’m going to start work on it in the spring. Fix the roof and then the walls. Get it ready for habitation.’

  Polly swallowed and shook her head. ‘Shan’t see you so much then if you’re going to live up here.’ She bit her lip. ‘Can I – erm – shall I be able to come and see you? Or ... Will you be by yourself?’ she added hurriedly, her cheeks pink, though not because of the cold.

  ‘Depends.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Might be. Or not.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Why are you coming here?’

  ‘I think it’s time to give Luke and Anna some breathing space to bring up their family, especially when they have a new addition.’ He continued to look down at her as if he wanted her to say something.

  ‘Do you think there are too many of us living there? Mebbe I should move out. I’m ’onny one that’s not family.’

  The thought of not being wanted made her feel cold with dread.