Rich Girl, Poor Girl

by Val Wood

  ‘But also,’ he continued, avoiding her question, and still holding her hand, ‘I’ve long wanted to have this place for my own. It was a boyhood dream, even though I was happy living at Nab Farm. But now,’ he looked down the valley at the long shadows as the sun began its descent, ‘now more than ever I want to set up here. I’ll still work for Luke – this is his property and land – but he says I can have it to live in. To treat as mine.’

  Polly looked away from him. The deer had gone, disappeared without her noticing. That’s what happens, she thought. You just catch sight of something special and then suddenly it’s gone. She gently nodded her head as she contemplated. But there we are. She sighed inwardly. I’ve seen it, which is better than not having seen it. Known something, which is better than not ever knowing.

  ‘Polly. I’m speaking to you.’ Howard put his other hand on her shoulder and turned her round. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you.’

  ‘I didn’t hear what you said.’ She looked up at him and felt her mouth tremble. She’d still see him, of course. They’d still be pals, but, well, it wouldn’t be enough. She’d got used to him being around. She’d miss their banter, the fun they had together, that was for certain.

  ‘I said that I didn’t have to be alone.’ He cupped the palms of his hands on either side of her face. ‘I would in fact rather have someone living with me. Someone who could make me laugh, who’d light up my life by being there.’

  Polly blinked. She could feel tears gathering. ‘Do you know somebody like that?’ she asked huskily.

  ‘I do,’ he said, and bent his head to kiss her mouth. ‘But whether she’d want somebody like me is a different matter, though perhaps it might make a difference if I told her I loved her; that I’ve loved her for nearly a twelvemonth.’

  Her eyes opened wide. ‘And you’ve never said?’

  Howard grinned and said, ‘I thought she might have thought I was joking. So I waited.’

  Polly gave herself a mental shake. ‘So who is this idiot girl who doesn’t know when a man loves her, whether he tells her or not? And does this man want to marry her, or – or what?’

  Howard picked her up and swung her round and she put her arms round his waist and held on tight.

  ‘Well, definitely not or what!’ Howard laughed. ‘What ever would the neighbours think? So what do you say, Polly?’

  She planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Yes. Please.’

  They decided that they would wait until after the birth of Anna’s baby before marrying. Luke had asked Polly if there was anyone she should ask for consent as she was still under twenty-one.

  ‘Of course marriage is allowed at sixteen with a parent or guardian’s permission,’ he said, ‘but—’

  Polly shook her head. ‘There’s nobody,’ she said. ‘Nobody to say what I can or can’t do. If we can find a parson to marry us,’ she grinned happily, ‘then it’s all right.’

  Rosalie was thrilled for them both, but in the privacy of her own room she was churning with anxiety. I won’t lose Polly as a friend, I know that, but I’ll be lonely without her. And, she thought wistfully, if Sonny doesn’t return, what will I do? I do so want him to, and if he does and Papa objects then I’d run away with him if he asked me, just like Mrs Carleton said she did when she was young. But she was unsure of Sonny for he hadn’t made any promises, except to say that he would come back.

  In January Rosalie and Polly celebrated their eighteenth birthdays together and marvelled at how their lives had changed during the last year.

  ‘I’m so lucky!’ Polly said time and again and Rosalie agreed that they both were, but occasionally she saddled up Damon and went off on her own and Polly would come looking for her and find her gone.

  ‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’ Polly asked once. ‘I would have come too.’ Seeing Rosalie’s hesitation, she said, ‘Just because I’m going to marry Howard doesn’t mean that you’re not my best friend ever.’

  Rosalie looked wistful and said, ‘I know, but I just needed to be on my own for a while.’

  And then Polly chastised her for riding alone when the snow was still thick and the winds were icy, and reminded her of the time when they had become lost on the moor, even in the summer, after taking Dora to her parents’ home.

  In February they were beset by blizzards and thick snow which froze overnight. Icicles hung from gutters and water pipes and the men were kept busy bringing in logs for the fires and tending the animals. Jonathan was back at school and a new housekeeper had come to the farm to replace Mrs Moody. Anna was satisfied.

  ‘I don’t feel like an intruder,’ she said, ‘not as I did with Mrs Moody.’

  She was blooming with health. Her skin was clear and her eyes were bright, and she said she felt as happy as she had ever been. She was a woman who thrived on being in the midst of a large family and was looking forward to being a mother again, despite the fact that it was fifteen years since the birth of her last child.

  In March the thaw began. Lambing time was hectic but once more the moor was greening over and there was a constant bleat of sheep and the cackle of grouse and pheasant; primroses and cowslips were appearing in ditches and trees were throwing out fresh buds. After finishing his work on the farm Howard went up to High Ridge House to make plans. Polly went with him and sometimes Rosalie came too, though often she declined.

  ‘I’m worried about her,’ Polly confided to Howard one evening when they were alone. ‘She isn’t happy and I don’t know what to do about it. I think that she thinks that Sonny won’t come back.’

  Howard smiled. ‘And I think – in fact I know – that she’s wrong. He will come. He always does.’ He bent to kiss Polly’s cheek. ‘And he’ll come for her, because he’s besotted with her. But,’ he warned her, ‘he’s not the sort of man who’ll stay in one place. Not for him hearth and home and slippers by the fire. If Rosalie wants him she’ll have to accept him for what he is.’

  It was a few days later, when Luke had gone over to Grosmont and Amos was out on the moor with Howard, and Polly had ridden off to High Ridge House on her own because Rosalie hadn’t wanted to go, that Anna began in labour.

  ‘I’m sure it’s not due yet,’ she said weakly. ‘But then perhaps it is; it’s not exactly science, is it? There is no true way of telling, and it’s such a long time since Elizabeth that I can’t remember if I was early or late.’

  Rosalie tried to recall what she had read in the book she had found in her father’s study so long ago, but even that, she thought, hadn’t made it exactly clear.

  ‘We should send for the midwife, Aunt Anna,’ she said firmly. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Whom might we send? Howard, perhaps?’ Anna grimaced. ‘Yes, someone should go, please.’

  ‘Howard’s not here,’ Rosalie whispered to Clemmie out in the hall. ‘Nor is Amos. Shall I go? You can tell me where. Or would you rather fetch her?’

  Clementina shook her head. ‘I’d rather stay. Elizabeth is very nervous and I can help Anna upstairs to her room.’

  It was true, she could, Rosalie thought. She was a strong young woman, born and bred in the country, and being used to the births of puppies, kittens, lambs and calves she would be better able to cope than Rosalie was.

  She gave Rosalie directions to the midwife’s cottage on Howdale Moor. Rosalie wrapped a shawl round her shoulders, not stopping to put on a coat, and ran to the stable yard to ask the stable lad to bring out the trap and harness the pony.

  ‘Hurry, please,’ she said to him. ‘And then go up on the moor and see if you can find Mr Howard or Amos and ask them to come back to the house immediately.’

  Clementina had said it was a half-hour drive down to Howdale Moor and then another half-hour back again. ‘Plenty of time,’ Rosalie murmured as she gathered up the reins. ‘Babies take ages to come.’

  But as she set off on the narrow road she thought of her own mother who, although she hadn’t thought of it before, she now surmised would have been about the same age
as Anna.

  She cracked the whip above the pony’s head. ’Come on,’ she shrieked with a break in her voice. ’Come on!‘

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The midwife must have been looking out of her window, for as Rosalie drove up to her door she came out with her shawl on and a basket over her arm.

  ‘Is it for Mrs Kingston?’ she called. ‘She’ll be due any time.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rosalie said. ‘We think she’s begun in labour.’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ The woman climbed in the trap.

  ‘Her pains are spasmodic,’ Rosalie told her. ‘Not regular.’

  The woman, Mrs Shoesmith, pursed her lips and turned to look at Rosalie. ‘Spasmodic! Well! Do you know much about it, miss?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really. Only from books.’

  ‘Books!’ Mrs Shoesmith snorted. ‘Books is no good when you’re giving birth.’ She laughed heartily. ‘’Cept for propping up the bed!’

  Rosalie urged on the pony. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she agreed. ‘Nothing quite like experience.’

  Mrs Shoesmith folded her arms across her bosom. ‘I’ve got plenty o’ that. Been delivering babbies for twenty years; what I don’t know about it isn’t worth knowing. Delivered both of Mrs Kingston’s children when she was Mrs Radcliffe. Nivver thought she’d have any more. Let’s pray that it’ll be delivered safely.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Rosalie murmured fervently.

  ‘So who are you?’ Mrs Shoesmith asked, holding on to her bonnet as they picked up speed on the bumpy road. ‘Are you one of them nieces of Mr Kingston’s? Like twins, I heard, though you’re not.’

  Rosalie nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We are alike.’

  ‘And one of you’s getting married to Mr Howard? That’ll be a fine occasion. He’s well liked, is Mr Howard.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘But it’s not me.’

  ‘Nivver mind,’ Mrs Shoesmith consoled her. ‘Bonny lass like you; it won’t be long afore some young farmer snaps you up.’

  Rosalie sighed. But I don’t want to be snapped up, she thought. I know who I want and he’s not here.

  They drove up the track to the house and Elizabeth, her skirts flying, came running down the steps towards them as they reached the entrance.

  ‘Oh, be quick. Be quick!’ she shrieked. ‘The baby’s coming!’

  ‘What?’ Mrs Shoesmith exclaimed. ‘Already? Can’t it wait?’

  Elizabeth grabbed the midwife’s arm and hauled her up the steps to the door. ‘Please hurry,’ she urged. ‘It’s almost here. I’ve been watching out for you from the window.’

  She rushed them upstairs to her mother’s room and as they reached the threshold they heard the wail of a newborn child. Mrs Shoesmith opened the door and they saw Clementina bent over the bed, her face flushed with pride and excitement, with a slippery squalling child in her arms. Anna lay in the bed looking exhausted.

  ‘It’s a boy!’ Clemmie’s voice was shrill as she proclaimed the news. ‘We need scissors! To cut the cord! It was the one single thing I forgot to bring up.’

  Rosalie stared open-mouthed. ‘You delivered him, Clemmie? On your own?’

  ‘Come now; let’s take a look at him.’ Mrs Shoesmith took charge, cut the cord in seconds, wiped the baby’s eyes and mouth with a clean flannel and wrapped him in a cotton sheet taken from her basket. Then she handed him to Anna.

  ‘A fine boy,’ she confirmed. ‘Well done, Mrs Kingston, and you too, Miss Clementina. Now,’ she said. ‘If you’ll all disappear for ten minutes while I make the mother comfortable, and mebbe somebody will make a good pot o’ tea, then mother and baby’ll be ready to receive visitors, or even Mr Kingston if he’s about?’

  ‘Mrs Shoesmith!’ Anna’s face creased. She pressed her free hand against her belly. ‘Help me!’

  The midwife shooed them all out, and then turned to Clementina. ‘You can stay, Miss Clemmie.’

  As Rosalie closed the door behind her, she saw Mrs Shoesmith hand the newborn to Clemmie. Then the midwife turned to the bed and drew back the covers. Rosalie sat abruptly on the top stair and put her hand over her eyes.

  ‘Please don’t let her die,’ she muttered. ‘Please don’t let her die.’

  Elizabeth sat next to her. ‘What is it?’ she pleaded. ‘Mama’s going to be all right, isn’t she?’ She prised Rosalie’s fingers from her face, which was flooded with tears. ‘Rosalie! She is, isn’t she?’

  Rosalie nodded and swallowed. ‘Yes, of course—’ She was interrupted by a triumphant shout from Anna, followed by the mewling cry of a baby. She stood up, her hand pressed to her mouth and Elizabeth clutching her arm.

  The door opened and Clemmie stood there, still holding the baby, with a huge smile on her face.

  ‘There’s another,’ she cried. ‘A little girl! Twins!’

  Rosalie stood on the steps of the house looking towards a ridge in the far distance where she could see a line of four riders. She gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Luke must have met Howard and Amos on the way back. She narrowed her eyes, which were still swollen from her tears. One of the riders was smaller than the others so that must be Polly on Hero.

  I’ll go and meet them, she thought, dashing down the steps. I’ll tell Luke that he’s a father again, but I won’t say to how many!

  There was no sign of the stable lad so she led Damon out to the mounting block. He was already wearing a bridle but no saddle, but as she was in a hurry and because she was now so much more confident with him, she sprang on to his back and gripping hard with her knees trotted out of the yard and down the track. As she crossed the moor she urged Damon on to a canter and waved her arm to the riders in the distance. Her hair came out of its coil and streamed free over her shoulders and she lost her shawl but didn’t stop for it.

  A sense of exhilaration came over her as she felt the wind in her face and hair and the pounding of the animal beneath her as they raced on, and then she slowed the horse as the riders came nearer and their figures became recognizable. Luke and Polly, side by side with Howard. But not Amos! Amos was heavily built and rode a powerful muscular Cleveland Bay. This rider was tall but slimmer and rode a cob which looked to be too small for him. A hired hack, perhaps? Sonny!

  She waited, and then wheeled round to join them. ‘Uncle Luke!’ she called, and only he saw her radiant but tremulous smile. ‘Hurry home!’

  He gazed at her for a second, saying nothing, and then digging his heels into his mount’s flanks set off at a gallop.

  ‘Sonny!’ she greeted him. ‘Hello.’ Then she turned to Polly and Howard, who were looking at her expectantly. She started to speak but as she did so the emotion of the morning and the moment was too much for her. She put her hands over her face and began to sob.

  They all dismounted. Howard and Sonny lifted her down and Polly pulled at her sleeve.

  ‘What?’ Polly said in a choked voice. ‘Rosalie! What? Tell us, for God’s sake!’

  Rosalie’s shoulders shook but she took her hands away from her face and they saw that she was both weeping and laughing.

  ‘Twins,’ she cried. ‘A boy and a girl.’ She began to cry again and could hardly speak. ‘And mother and babies are doing well.’

  ***

  When they arrived back at the house they’d paired off, Howard and Polly leading the way and Rosalie and Sonny following behind. Luke was upstairs but they heard the boom of his laugh and a few minutes later he came to the top of the stairs. He put out his arms as if to embrace them all.

  ‘Twins!’ he bellowed. ‘A boy and a girl! And my clever darling Clemmie delivered one of them before the midwife got here.’

  Polly looked at Rosalie who nodded. ‘She did,’ she whispered. ‘She was incredible.’

  No one had eaten dinner that day and Luke ordered as much food as it was possible to bring to the table. He brought wine from the cellar and insisted that they all hurry to wash their hands and faces, but not to change. They would celebrate the safe
arrival and deliverance just as they were.

  The babies were inspected after the meal had been eaten, and then Anna was left to rest with the twins in a cradle by her side. Luke went up to sit with her and Clemmie and Elizabeth sat in a corner of the sitting room with pencils and notepads writing down names that they thought would be suitable for the new arrivals.

  ‘I need to stretch my legs.’ Sonny glanced at Rosalie. ‘Anyone like to walk?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ve been out all day.’

  Howard was already asleep in a chair by the hearth.

  ‘Yes, I’ll come,’ Rosalie said. ‘I’m so wound up after the excitement of the day that I can’t settle.’

  She went to fetch a shawl to replace the one that was lost on the moor. Her hair was still loose on her shoulders, for although she had brushed it she hadn’t coiled it in her neck in her usual manner.

  ‘I came back, you see.’ Sonny held her hand as they walked up the hill at the back of the house. ‘A little bird told me that you had some doubts.’

  ‘Polly,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘Howard. I’m going back,’ he added softly. ‘The portraits have led to another commission.’

  He drew her near to him and stroking her hair he wound a strand round his finger. ‘There’s more work for me in Italy than there will ever be in England. I can earn some kind of living there.’

  Rosalie shivered. A wind was getting up and the sun was slowly sinking, casting a deep red flush over the moor. The end of the day, she sighed. A day which has brought new life, but what does it mean for me? I feel as if time is suspended, as if it’s waiting for something else to happen; which is ridiculous, she chided herself, because time is abstract and unsubstantial until we use it or fill it or waste it. And what am I waiting for?

  ‘I asked you once before.’ She bent her head and spoke in a low voice. ‘And I’m asking you again. Take me with you.’

  A flicker of a smile crossed his face. ‘And I believe I said then that I’m just a poor painter and only earn enough for myself to live on.’