No Wings to Fly

by Jess Foley

  He turned back to her. ‘D’you want to? After what you know?’

  ‘Oh, how can you ask such a question? Of course I want to see you. I want to know how you’re getting on. I always think about you.’

  He nodded. ‘All right, then. I’ll write you a letter.’

  ‘You won’t forget?’

  ‘No, I won’t forget.’

  He leant down then – only a little, for he was not much taller than she – and pressed his cold cheek against her own. At the same time he embraced her, tightly. Then he was releasing her, straightening and turning away again. ‘G’bye, our Lil.’

  She watched as he went along the lane, until he had walked out of sight, hidden from her view by a screen of silver birches. He did not look back.

  She stood there for some moments after he had gone, then pulled the collar of her coat about her throat and turned and set off for the inn, there to pick up the fly to take her to the station. As she walked, her feet in the mud of the lane felt as heavy as her heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Lily arrived back at Rowanleigh she went straight up to her room, where she removed her hat and coat and stood in front of the glass that hung beside the fireplace. She touched at her hair, almost unconscious of her actions. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, the room with its simple furnishings, and the window looking out onto the garden, the lawn scattered with leaves from the cherry tree.

  Turning from the glass, she moved to the bed, and sat. The silence in the room was complete. From without there came no sound. No birds sang. Beyond the window the sky was grey above the cherry tree, with rain clouds slowly drifting by.

  There came a knock at the door, and, momentarily startled out of her melancholy, she called out, ‘Come in.’ The door opened and Miss Elsie stepped into the room.

  ‘Mary said she heard you come back,’ Miss Elsie said. ‘Did you see your brother?’

  Lily nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Miss Elsie closed the door behind her. ‘And how was it – your meeting?’

  Lily did not know what to say. She bent her face, looking down at her hands. Miss Elsie came forward, and stood before her. ‘My dear . . .’ she said, ‘obviously it didn’t go as you’d hoped.’

  Lily gave a little shake of her head.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.’

  When Lily did not speak, Miss Elsie lifted a hand and briefly pressed Lily’s shoulder. ‘Was it so bad?’

  Lily remained silent for a moment, but the gentle touch burst through the dam of her resolve, and she began to cry. Miss Elsie sat down beside her. ‘Lily, what is it?’ she said.

  Lily continued to weep for some moments, but slowly calmed herself. Then, in a rush, it all came pouring out, and she told of her meeting with Tom, of his shocking revelation and his despair. Throughout it, Miss Elsie sat in silence, but there was no hiding the horror that touched her features. When at last Lily’s words came to a halt, she said, ‘Lily, I can only try to imagine what you’re going through – and that poor young man. I only wish I could help.’

  They sat without speaking for some moments, then Miss Elsie said, ‘I came upstairs as there’s something I want to talk to you about – but now I think I should leave you alone for a little time.’ She pressed Lily’s shoulder again and rose from the bed. ‘I’ll see you at dinner. I’ll tell you about it then.’

  Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. Miss Elsie, out of consideration for Lily’s preoccupation, kept the desultory conversation rather solemn. Then, after the coffee had been served, she went away from the table, and came back with a copy of that week’s local newspaper, the Corster Gazette.

  ‘This is what I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said as she sat again. Pushing aside her cup and saucer, she set down the paper and turned the pages to the classified advertisements. ‘There.’ She touched with her forefinger at an entry low on the page. ‘This could be just the thing for you.’

  She folded the paper back on itself and held it out to Lily, who took it and looked at the small area of text that had been circled with a pencil. Holding it closer to the light of the candelabrum, she read:

  Wanted immediately: Governess on daily, visiting basis for two girls, aged seven. Applicant must be young, able, patient, energetic and trustworthy. Please apply with references to Mrs Edward Acland, Yew Tree House, Green Lane, Little Patten, Nr Corster.

  Lily read the advertisement over again, while across the table Miss Elsie looked for a response. ‘Well?’ Miss Elsie said. ‘What do you think?’

  Lily raised her eyes from the newspaper. ‘Do you think I could do it?’

  Miss Elsie nodded. ‘I wouldn’t have shown you the advertisement if I didn’t.’

  Lily sat with the newspaper before her. She had been studying so hard over these past months – and all with this in view: the possibility of gaining a position as a governess. Now, it seemed, the opportunity was here. She felt a glow of pleasure at Miss Elsie’s belief in her, but nevertheless she was full of doubt.

  ‘D’you think I’m ready?’ she said.

  Miss Elsie nodded. ‘I do indeed. You’ll make a splendid teacher. You’ve got all the right attributes. Besides, my name still counts for something around here, and you can be sure I’ll give you an excellent character.’

  A reply to Lily’s letter applying for the position came five days later. Written by Mrs Acland, it invited Lily to come for an interview on Monday, the eighteenth of November, and to bring her character references with her.

  When Monday came, Lily set off in the trap for the railway station. The morning was unusually mild for the time of year, and she had about her a more positive air than she had had since her melancholy meeting with Tom. She wore her black straw hat, and her dark grey coat, with a little bunch of papier mâché cherries pinned to her lapel. Taking the Redbury-bound train from Corster, she eventually came to Little Patten, and there set out to walk to Green Lane, which was situated on the edge of the village. Yew Tree House was the fourth house along the lane, a large old dwelling with brick and white stucco walls and a red-tiled roof.

  A young maid answered her ring, and Lily gave her name and said she was expected. The girl gave a little bob and asked her to come in, and Lily wiped her boots and stepped into the wide, tiled hall where the maid took her umbrella. She was shown then into a room on the right. ‘If you’d please to wait in here, miss,’ the maid said, ‘and take a seat, I’ll go and tell Mrs Acland.’

  Lily thanked her and the girl went away. Lily looked around her. The room was quite large, and well furnished. A bright fire flickered in the grate. Lily sat down on an overstuffed sofa, and after four or five minutes the door opened again and the mistress of the house appeared. At once Lily got to her feet.

  Mrs Acland appeared to be in her late thirties. She was two or three inches below Lily’s height, and rather round and plump. She wore her dark hair with a little fringe at the front, and pulled into a knot at the base of her skull. When she smiled she showed small, slightly inward-sloping teeth. Her smile was warm, though, and Lily felt welcome.

  ‘Hello – so you’re Miss Clair. How do you do.’ The woman took Lily’s hand and lightly shook it. She gestured then to the sofa. ‘Please – do sit down.’

  Lily did as she was bidden, and Mrs Acland sat in one of the armchairs nearby. After she had politely asked Lily about her journey from Sherrell she began to ask her questions about her background, her schooling and her general experience. Lily told her something of her early history, and then went on to say that she had been lodging with Miss Elsie Balfour for some thirteen months, during which time, under Miss Balfour’s tutelage, she had been studying with a view to finding work as a governess.

  When Lily mentioned the name of Miss Balfour, Mrs Acland at once gave a little nod of approval. ‘Oh, Miss Balfour is remembered in these parts,’ she said. ‘The school she ran in Shalford with her fellow teacher was highly regarded. It’s a few years since she left
, but her reputation is still very strong. And you say you’re lodging with her, and being taught by her. Well, I doubt that you could do better. Is it she who’s provided you with your reference?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Lily took from her bag the envelope that Miss Elsie had given her, handed it to Mrs Acland, then watched as she took out the document and studied it.

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Acland said, ‘this is certainly a glowing testimonial. Miss Balfour speaks of you as being exceptionally able, and a clever and intelligent young woman.’ She gave a nod of approval. ‘We had a governess until a few weeks ago, but I’m afraid it all ended very abruptly. The girl fell desperately in love, and one fine day she just upped and went. Left us in dire straits, I’m afraid.’ She heaved a sigh, then said with an ironic smile, ‘I do hope you’re not romantically involved with some moustachioed dragoon, Miss Clair. Best tell us now if you are. I hope there’s no one in your life who’s planning to come and sweep you away.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Oh, no. No fear of that, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Mrs Acland said. She paused, then added, ‘I’ll be quite honest with you: it’s not easy to find a suitable governess. We’ve advertised twice now, and of the few responses we’ve had, hardly any sounded suitable. We had no recourse but to keep looking.’

  The room had grown a little darker. Mrs Acland looked towards the window, beyond which heavy clouds were gathering. ‘Oh, dear, it’s going to rain,’ she said. Then, turning back to Lily: ‘I wonder what are your interests? How do you spend your time at Miss Balfour’s house when you’re not studying? Do you go out much?’

  ‘Well,’ Lily replied, ‘in a small place like Sherrell there’re not many places to go. Though on occasion I go into Corster – sometimes on errands for Miss Balfour.’

  ‘My husband works in Corster,’ Mrs Acland said. ‘He’s with a firm of solicitors. Oh, we’re very fond of Corster. Well, you’ve got the theatre and the concert hall, and now there’s the aquarium – and all the shops, of course. The children love to go there.’ She clasped her hands before her. ‘But I haven’t told you about the children yet. We have twin girls, Alice and Rose. They’re just seven years old, and they’re good girls. Miss Trimble sometimes had problems keeping them interested, but I have no doubt the lack was hers and not theirs. Anyway,’ she added, her face brightening, ‘I think you ought to meet them, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, ma’am, I’d love to.’ Lily meant it. She had been looking forward to seeing the children. And it was also a good sign – evidence that Mrs Acland was seriously considering her as a potential teacher for her children.

  Mrs Acland rose from her seat, saying, ‘I’ve been trying to teach them myself since Miss Trimble went, but it’s not easy with everything else I’ve got to do.’ She started for the door. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  She left the room then, and a few minutes later returned, ushering before her two small girls. They came to a stop not far from where Lily sat, while their mother came to a halt behind them.

  ‘Here they are,’ Mrs Acland said, ‘my two babies, Alice and Rose.’

  They reacted frowning to their being called babies, and sighed and looked long-sufferingly at their mother. Mrs Acland, oblivious, beamed over them. ‘Say hello to Miss Clair,’ she said.

  They looked down at their boots. They looked nothing alike. Alice was short and plump, with a round face and wispy brown hair, while her sister Rose was of a slimmer build, and had thick curls tumbling to her collar.

  ‘Come along, girls,’ Mrs Acland smiled. ‘Say good afternoon to Miss Clair.’

  The girl Alice turned to Lily, gave a little bob of her shoulders and said, ‘Good afternoon, Miss.’

  ‘And you, Rosie,’ Mrs Acland prompted.

  The other girl also turned to Lily, and shyly murmured a good afternoon. Mrs Acland, watching with approval, said, ‘They’re a little bashful, but they’ll get used to you.’ She smiled at them. ‘You will, won’t you, dears?’ They remained silent. ‘Miss Clair,’ Mrs Acland said, ‘is probably going to be your new governess. Won’t that be nice?’

  They betrayed not by a single flicker of their expressions how nice it would be, but stood unmoving, side by side, their glances directed at the floor. Their mother continued to regard them with affectionate approval, then said, ‘All right, my dears, you can go back and get on with what you were doing.’

  Without hesitating, the pair turned and headed for the door. As they went, their mother prompted them: ‘Say goodbye to Miss Clair, then.’

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Clair,’ they called out obediently. The next moment they had gone.

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Acland said on a sigh, gazing after them, ‘there they are, and as I say, they’re good girls. They need a firm hand, of course, but all children do. They need to know their limits, that’s all. I’m afraid Miss Trimble’s mind just wasn’t on her job.’ She gave a slow nod. ‘I don’t think you should have any trouble with them, I really don’t. I think you’ll do very well.’

  After a moment’s hesitation Lily said, ‘Do I understand from that, ma’am, that you’re offering me the position?’

  Mrs Acland smiled back. ‘Oh, yes, indeed. From meeting you today, and getting to know you a little – and with your glowing reference from Miss Balfour – I think you might do very well. And I’m sure my husband will feel the same. He would have liked to be here today, but I’m afraid he was called away. He trusts my judgement, though.’ She paused. ‘So – if you think you could cope with us, then we’d love to have you join us, and see how we all get on for the first year.’ She gave a nod in confirmation of her words, then added, ‘We did make it clear in the advertisement that we don’t require a resident governess, only a daily, visiting. Would that present you with a problem?’

  ‘No. No, not at all.’

  ‘Splendid. You’ll need to find a room somewhere nearby, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. Miss Trimble had no trouble finding lodgings, and was very well suited. She was with a Mrs Thorne, in Ashway Lane,’ she gestured with a wave of her small hand, ‘which is just up round the corner on the way to the station. Mrs Thorne is a widow lady – of humble means, but a gracious and pleasant soul, and keeps a very clean house, I understand. Certainly Miss Trimble was very happy and comfortable there, I know, and I should think it very likely that her room is still vacant. There wouldn’t be many calls for lodgings in a little place like this. Do you think you might like to enquire?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed, ma’am,’ Lily replied. ‘That could be just the thing. I’ll go now, on my way back to the station.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ll give you directions.’ Mrs Acland pressed her hands together. ‘That’s splendid – and now we must discuss your salary and conditions.’

  Lily was soon ready to set off from the house. With all the necessary business arrangements settled with her new employer, she took her leave of her and made her way back along the lane. Thankfully the rain was holding off, though the clouds remained threatening. Reaching the end, she turned to the left and walked along for fifty yards until she came to Ashway Lane, a narrow, stony little road branching off to the right. Roseberry Cottage was the first dwelling in a row of three, and she turned in at its gate, made her way up the short path to the front door, and rapped on it with the iron knocker. It was opened after a few moments by a short, slim woman in her late fifties, wearing a plain apron over her dark brown dress, and a lace cap on her grey hair. Lily introduced herself and said that she had come to enquire whether there might be a vacant room to rent, for she was looking for lodgings while she taught the Acland children at Yew Tree House.

  Mrs Thorne beamed at her. There was indeed a room, she said, the very room vacated by the Aclands’ former governess, Miss Trimble. Miss Clair could see it now, if she wished. Lily replied that she would very much like to, and a moment later Mrs Thorne was stepping aside and inviting her to enter.

  The room Lily was shown into was up one flight of stairs. Smelling very faint
ly of beeswax and lavender, it was not large, and its ceiling was low, but the window looked out onto a small vegetable garden at the rear, with the sweeping plains of Wiltshire beyond, along the cloud-hung skyline. The room was pleasantly furnished, and Lily saw that it would offer all she required. She turned to the woman who stood watching her, and saw a little anxiety in her face, a look of hope that the room would do. It would do indeed, Lily was sure. She smiled at Mrs Thorne, and said yes, she liked the room very much, and if the terms were agreeable she would like to take it.

  Mrs Thorne returned Lily’s smile with relief, barely hiding her eagerness to have a paying guest in the house once more. Miss Trimble, she said, paid one-and-nine a week, with all washing done, and breakfast and supper found. Would that be acceptable? Lily at once said yes. It was then arranged that she would move into the room in a fortnight, on Sunday, December the first, ready to begin her teaching of the Acland girls the following day. All was settled.

  Back downstairs in the kitchen, Mrs Thorne asked Lily if she would like to stay for some tea. Lily was grateful for the offer, and thanked her, but said that she must set off back for Sherrell.

  She left the cottage a few minutes later with her sense of accomplishment and satisfaction riding high. She had found employment and she had found a lodging. The future was looking brighter.

  The clouds remained threatening as Lily set off to catch her train, but the rain held off. Arriving at the station, she went onto the platform and saw on the board that a train for Sherrell was due in twenty minutes.

  There was a ladies’ waiting room near the ticket office, and she went in and took a seat near the door. There were two other women in the place who sat together beneath the window. Lily took a seat opposite, keeping an eye on the dusty-faced old clock. When the time came she gathered up her bag and umbrella, touched at her hat, and left the room.

  She had to wait only a further minute or two before the train drew in and she chose a window seat facing forward. There were three other passengers in the carriage, a middle-aged couple and an elderly woman, obviously travelling together.