A Place Called Home (6 page)

‘But I don't want to go with him. I want to stay with you.'

‘I will always love you, and it breaks my heart to let you go.' Eva raised a tear-stained face. ‘I'm putting my trust in you, Sir William. If you make my girl unhappy I'll see that you suffer the torments of hell.'

‘I don't want to be a lady.' Lucy broke away from her grandmother and dropped to the floor, wrapping her arms around the dog, ‘We'll run away. Me and Peckham will disappear and you won't be able to find us.'

‘You may keep the animal if it means so much to you,' Sir William said with an impatient edge in his voice. ‘I have dogs at home. I daresay another won't make much difference.' He nodded in Eva's direction and smiled. ‘You see, Miss Pocket, I am trying hard to make the child feel comfortable.'

‘We're not going,' Lucy said firmly. ‘Peckham and me are staying here, and that's final.'

She huddled in the corner of the carriage with Peckham curled up on her lap. Despite her protests and her earnest entreaties to be left with her grandmother, she had lost the battle and was now on her way to Albemarle Street. Sir William sat opposite her but made no attempt at conversation. She stared out of the window. At any other time she would have been thrilled to be travelling in such luxury, but in her present emotional state nothing registered in her brain other than the fact that every turn of the wheel and every hoofbeat took her further away from everything she knew, and the one person in the world she loved.

When the coachman reined in the horses outside the elegant five-storey house in Albemarle Street Lucy sat very still. If she did not move a muscle, maybe the strange man who purported to be her grandfather would get out of the carriage and leave her to return home. He had ignored her until now, but when a liveried footman opened the door and put the steps down Sir William gave her his full attention. ‘You first,' he said abruptly.

The footman proffered his arm and Lucy thrust the dog into his startled embrace. ‘Hang on to him. He might take fright and run away.' She leapt to the ground. ‘Give him to me, mister. He don't like strangers.'

Sir William alighted from the vehicle and strode across the pavement to the front door, which opened as if by magic. Lucy followed him inside to the obvious surprise of the butler, whose eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline.

‘Miss Lucy has come to live with us, Bedwin.' Sir William took off his top hat and gloves and handed them to the butler. ‘Send Mrs Hodges to me. We'll be in the drawing room.'

‘Yes, Sir William.' Bedwin shot a curious glance at Lucy and she stared back. Peckham wriggled in her arms and whimpered and when she put him down he ran to the front door, and turned his head to give her an expectant look.

‘He wants to piddle, or he might want to sh—'

‘Let him out, Bedwin,' Sir William said, cutting her off in full flow.

‘Not out there.' Lucy ran to the door. ‘He'll get lost.'

Sir William sighed heavily. ‘Take him to the garden, Bedwin. Get someone to give the creature a bath before you let him back into the house.'

‘Let me do it, guv,' Lucy said eagerly. ‘He's my dog.'

‘You'll do no such thing. We are going to start as we mean to go on. You have a lot to learn.' Sir William strode towards the staircase, motioning her to follow him.

Bedwin scooped Peckham up in his arms. ‘Do as the master says, miss.'

‘He's going upstairs. Is he going to bed?'

‘The drawing room is on the first floor, miss.' Bedwin marched off with the dog tucked underneath his arm. Lucy hesitated; it was like playing the game, only this time it was real. Her feet sank into the thick pile of the carpet as she made her way up the wide staircase, and her fingers slid along the highly polished balustrade as if it were made of glass. The richly-papered walls were lined with gilt-framed oil paintings, mainly landscapes, but amongst them were portraits of prim-faced people wearing old-fashioned clothes. Their disdainful gaze seemed to follow her, and she took the remainder of the stairs two at a time.

The drawing room was furnished with more attention to style and elegance than comfort. The matching sofas were upholstered in gold damask and spindly chairs were set around equally fragile-looking tables, on which were silver-framed daguerreotypes and dainty porcelain figurines. Gold velvet curtains and swags framed the tall windows and the air was fragrant with the scent emanating from cut crystal vases filled with spring flowers. A fire blazed up the chimney even though it was relatively warm for the time of year. She stood in the doorway, gazing round in awe and feeling suddenly very small and in as much need of a bath as poor Peckham. She did not belong in a grand house like this and she was overwhelmed with a feeling of homesickness. Sir William stood with his back to the fire, staring at her with a frown wrinkling his brow. ‘Mrs Hodges will look after you,' he said lamely. ‘And we need to do something about those rags you're wearing.'

Lucy said nothing. He was talking at her rather than to her and she felt disorientated and strange, as if her body was present but her mind and heart were still in Hairbrine Court with Granny.

‘Sit down, do.' Sir William's edgy voice sliced through her thoughts. Moving like an automaton she went to sit on the nearest chair. It was very hard and extremely slippery, and it took all her concentration to keep from sliding to the floor. Sir William paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at her once or twice but she sat very still, waiting for him to speak. He came to a halt at the sound of someone knocking on the door. ‘Enter.'

A woman, plainly dressed in black bombazine with a white lace cap on her head and a chatelaine hanging from her waist, glided into the room with a swish of starched petticoats. She folded her hands in front of her and bobbed a curtsey.

‘Mrs Hodges, this is my granddaughter, Lucy Pocket. She will be living with us from now on and I want you to make up a room for her.'

If the housekeeper was shocked or surprised she was too self-disciplined to let it show. She flicked a glance in Lucy's direction. ‘Very well, Sir William. I'll see to it at once.'

‘And she'll need clothes,' Sir William said vaguely. ‘She will require a whole new wardrobe, and I want you to advertise for a governess who is available to start immediately.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘I'll leave you to select the woman you deem most capable, Mrs Hodges. I know little about such things.'

‘I'll do my best, sir.'

Lucy was intent on their conversation and for a moment she lost concentration and found herself sliding onto the floor, where she landed in a heap at Mrs Hodges' feet. ‘Sorry, missis.'

‘Get up, child,' Mrs Hodges hissed. ‘That's no way to behave.'

‘I have business to attend to, Mrs Hodges,' Sir William said with an impatient edge to his voice. ‘I'll leave Lucy in your capable hands.'

Mrs Hodges inclined her head. ‘Of course, sir. Come along, Miss Lucy.' She seized her by the arm, dragging her to her feet. She sniffed and her nostrils dilated. ‘It seems that we are in need of a bath.'

Lucy stared at her in surprise. ‘You smell all right to me, missis.'

Mrs Hodges propelled her from the room, stopping outside to close the double doors. She turned on Lucy, her thin lips folded back to expose yellowed and stained teeth. Lucy tried not to stare, but she found herself wondering if the housekeeper chewed tobacco or perhaps she drank copious amounts of strong tea. She came back to the present with a start as Mrs Hodges pinched her arm. ‘I suppose you think you're clever, but let me tell you that good manners cost nothing. You've got a lot to learn, you little guttersnipe.'

‘You can't speak to me like that,' Lucy protested. ‘That gent in there is my grandpa, or so he says. He wants me to grow up to be a lady.'

‘And this is where we'll start.' Mrs Hodges grabbed her by the hand and marched her up to the fourth floor, pausing to catch her breath on each landing before continuing with what seemed to Lucy like climbing a mountain. ‘This is the nursery suite,' Mrs Hodges said, flinging a door open. ‘Master Julius spent his early years here with his nanny, who slept in the adjoining room.'

‘If his nanny had that room I don't see why my granny can't come and stay here as well.'

‘Don't you know anything, child?' Mrs Hodges snapped. ‘A nanny looks after babies and small children. Your granny, I assume, is your maternal grandmother.'

‘Maybe,' Lucy said doubtfully. She was not sure what that meant, but she did not want to admit her ignorance.

Mrs Hodges moved around the room, snatching Holland covers off the furniture. ‘I'll send a maid up to light a fire and make up the bed. You're causing me a lot of extra work, young lady.' She cast a critical eye over Lucy, shaking her head and tut-tutting. ‘A good scrub in hot water is what you need most, and your clothes are filthy and probably vermin-ridden. Take them off.'

‘What?' Lucy wrapped her arms around her thin body. ‘I can't take me clothes off. I'll catch me death of cold.'

‘Don't be silly, child. Take everything off and wrap yourself in this.' Mrs Hodges stripped the coverlet from the bed and tossed it to Lucy. ‘Undress now. Or do you want me to do it for you?'

Lucy could tell by the set of Mrs Hodges' jaw and the determined expression on her face that to argue would be useless, and she stripped off her clothes. The coverlet was cold against her warm skin and felt damp. She stood by the empty grate, shivering and biting back tears. Mrs Hodges bundled up her clothing with a look of distaste. ‘Stay there and don't touch anything,' she said sternly. ‘Someone will be with you shortly.'

‘I want me dog,' Lucy said defiantly. ‘The gent said I could keep him here.'

‘Sir William is your grandfather. You don't refer to him as the gent. You address him as Grandpapa and you only speak when you are spoken to. You have much to learn, but I fear it will be an uphill task and nigh impossible.' Mrs Hodges flounced out of the room.

Lucy was left alone with the echoes of the past. The greyness of the sky outside was reflected in the clinically white walls. What little furniture there was remained covered with dustsheets that looked suspiciously like shrouds. It was as if all the colour had been drained from the room, leaving it austere and comfortless.

She sank down on the coir mat in front of the empty grate and huddled up in the coverlet, closing her eyes and attempting to play the game, but this time things were different. She was back in the attic room in Hairbrine Court waiting for Granny to come home from Rosemary Lane with enough money to buy supper and maybe breakfast next day. There would be cuddles and laughter, which made everything feel right, but the vision was growing misty. She could not hold onto her dream and it faded away. Tears oozed between her tightly shut eyelids despite her efforts to hold them back. She missed Granny more than she would have thought possible and the ache in her heart refused to go away. Sir William said he was her grandfather, but she knew instinctively that he had no affection for her. Mrs Hodges positively disliked her and Bedwin had treated her with barely concealed contempt. She would not stay here a moment longer than was necessary. She would find Peckham and they would run away.

She opened her eyes, struggling back from the brink of sleep, and a cry of fright escaped her lips when she saw a spectral grey shape moving silently towards her.

‘
WHAT'S UP WITH
you? Anyone would think you'd seen a ghost.' The housemaid set the coal scuttle down, groaning as she straightened up. ‘Five flights of stairs I've had to climb with this bloody thing,' she grumbled. ‘And when I've got the fire going I'm to fetch buckets of hot water for your bath.' She stared at Lucy with an impatient toss of her head. ‘I dunno what you've got to cry about. It's me what's got the work to do.'

‘I ain't crying,' Lucy said angrily. ‘I never asked you to wait on me.'

‘I shouldn't have to run round after the likes of you,' the girl said, dropping a bundle of kindling and a roll of newspaper onto the hearth. ‘You'll have to shift yourself. I can't light the fire with you sitting there like a lump of cold porridge.'

Lucy scrambled to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I never asked to come here, and I'll be leaving as soon as I get me duds back. What has she done with 'em?'

‘Mrs Hodges told Martha to wash them. She said they was probably running with fleas and lice.' She shot her a sideways glance. ‘And I daresay your hair is full of nits.'

‘I haven't got nits, and I don't have fleas and lice neither.' She met the girl's scornful gaze with an unblinking stare. ‘I dunno who you think you are, but you're supposed to be looking after me.'

‘My name is Susan.'

‘And you light fires. What else do you do?'

A flicker of something like respect lit Susan's green eyes for a moment, but then she slid her gaze away. ‘I'm the tweeny.' She went down on her knees in front of the grate. ‘That means I do all the jobs that no one else wants to do. I help Cook and I help the housemaids, but being a tweeny is one up from being a slavey.'

‘What's a slavey?'

‘Don't you know nothing? Martha is a slavey, which is another name for a scullery maid, because they're at everyone's beck and call. They do all the washing up and mopping floors and cleaning out bins and such. I started out that way.'

Lucy flopped down on a low chair close to the fireplace. ‘I don't belong here. I want to go home.'

Susan paused with a twist of newspaper clutched in her grimy hand, staring at Lucy in amazement. ‘Are you mad? You landed on your feet. I dunno what your home was like, but by the look of you it weren't much. You should think yourself lucky to be taken in by a rich toff. They're saying below stairs that you're his long lost granddaughter. Is that true?'