The Lost And Found Girl (24 page)

Daisy glanced at the other gentlemen whose faces, to a man, held neutral expressions, except for Master James who heaved a sigh and blew out his cheeks and caught her eye. She gave him a sympathetic smile and he responded with a resigned shrug. Then she felt Annie’s strong fingers on her shoulder pulling her away.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Annie propelled Daisy through the wide doorway where the others were waiting to be shepherded back down the steps to the servants’ passages.

‘I’m not the only one who can write her name,’ Daisy protested.

‘I don’t mean that. You forgot to thank his lordship.’

‘I went back.’

‘And you – you not only looked at Master James, you smiled at him.’

‘He looked at me first.’

‘Never mind that! Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? If you can’t do as you’re told, I’ll not have you in my brigade.’

‘I’m sorry, Annie. I’ll know better next time. It won’t happen again, I promise.’

‘I should think not. When we have the harvest supper, his lordship and Master James will call in to thank us so you, young lady, had better make yourself scarce when he does.’

After the long hours and hard work of summer the approaching festival was an occasion that everyone looked forward to. It was a well-deserved celebration for the servants and killed beasts came in on a cart from Home Farm to be butchered at the Abbey. Daisy watched farm hands drag them off, hoist them over their shoulders and carry them indoors to the cold larder. She remembered when a butcher came to stick the pig at home. Mother left her to deal with the nasty job of soaking and washing the innards. It was a horrid smelly task but she liked to eat the end result when they were cooked.

‘Who makes the blood puddings and chitterlings?’ she asked.

‘The farm lasses see to them.’

‘I didn’t know they had lasses at Home Farm.’ She’d be nearer to Boyd if she was at the farm. ‘Could I go and work over there, Annie?’

‘You don’t want to be out in the fields all winter cutting mangolds for the cattle. You can read and write and you learn fast. It’s a pity you haven’t got a father to pay for schooling. If you behave yourself you could have a position in the Abbey by the time you’re one and twenty.’

‘D’you think so?’

‘If you behave yourself, mind. As it is I can keep you on until after the Christmas festivities as long as there are no more shenanigans like today, my lass.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Aye well, as a punishment I’m sending you to help out in the scullery where they scrub the cooking pots. The kitchens need extra hands for the harvest supper baking.’

‘Can’t you send me to the farm to wash chitterlings instead?’

‘Do as you’re told and don’t answer back or I’ll double your time in the scullery.’

Daisy knew when she was beaten and resigned herself to waiting until the harvest supper to see Boyd again.

The scullery was hot, wet and greasy. She spent her time stoking a boiler fire, tapping off steaming hot water and carrying it by the pailful to one of the deep wooden sinks. When the scullery maids had finished she had to drain the sinks and cart the cold smelly dregs to a cooling vat outside the washhouse where the laundry women skimmed off any fat to make soap. The washhouse was a long way away so no one had to suffer the smell from the chamber pot slops. The stronger the smell the better it was for removing stains and it made Daisy’s eyes water as she walked by. She decided that laundry maid was worse than scullery maid and looked forward to returning to her housemaids’ duties in the servants’ hall.

Excitement grew as the harvest festival drew near. There was a shortcut across the park to the village and now Daisy had money she went there with others one afternoon to buy trimmings for her gown. She had not worn it since Annie had provided her with her servants’ uniform. The draper kept a table of second-hand buttons, ribbons and lace that was popular with the younger servants. He called it ‘notions’ and for her few pennies she bought enough bits and pieces for a collar, cuffs and a panel down the front of her bodice. She decided not to wear her plain cap
as nothing she could afford would make it look pretty. But she found a pair of horn hair combs which could be mistaken for tortoiseshell. She so much wanted to look pretty for Boyd.

‘Will the farm lasses be there?’ she wondered aloud on the way back, thinking how pretty they were. She remembered how she felt about Mattie. She didn’t want Boyd to take up with a farm lass and have no time for her.

Every cart and dray and trap on the estate was harnessed to a horse to carry the women and girls over to the barn at Home Farm. The men walked and as they trundled past them in the afternoon light they called out in a good-natured manner to ‘save them a reel’ or ‘take a jar with me’. They looked different out of livery in clean shirts and jaunty neckties. Some wore smart jackets and one or two of the older servants were in breeches and buckled shoes. They were blessed with a fine evening. An area of level ground between two barns had been cleared and rolled for dancing. This was the first time Daisy had attended such a large gathering and her eyes shone as she took in the scene. The fiddlers were playing a jolly tune while men set up barrels of ale and cider and unloaded boxes of crockery and baskets of food from the Abbey.

‘Daisy! Over here!’ Boyd was covering straw stacks with canvas for sitting on. She ran over and hugged him. ‘Are you well? Did you get your pay?’

‘Yes. I have to work hard for it but no more than at home.’

‘It’s better than home because there are no beatings.’

‘And Father has not come looking for us?’

Boyd grimaced. ‘I think he might have. I saw the carter who brought us in and he said a man had been asking in the village about a pair of young folk looking for work.’

A trickle of fear ran down Daisy’s back. ‘Did they tell him where we were?’

‘They don’t know us in the village so they couldn’t.’

‘If he does come here, will they make me go home with him?’

‘He’s got to find you first.’

‘Well, if he does, I’ll run away again.’

‘If, if, if. Stop worrying, Daisy.’

‘But I like it here.’

‘Me too.’

‘We oughtn’t to have given them our real names.’

‘It’s best not to lie. Anyway it’s too late now.’ Someone called Boyd’s name to help with setting up the flares. ‘You go off and enjoy yourself and I’ll come and find you later. I want a dance with my little sister.’

Daisy nodded enthusiastically and looked around for familiar faces. They had disappeared into the jostling groups of chattering people. Suddenly the setting sun dropped beneath the western clouds and shot rays of red across the land. A small cheer rippled around and a large florid man jumped onto a cart in front of the fiddlers and began calling for a square dance.

‘Come with me, little one.’ A lean grey-haired man had taken her elbow and was pushing her gently towards one of the formations. ‘Do you know this one?’

‘I – I think so.’ Dances had been rare treats for Daisy. But she soon remembered the steps and as she joined in she noticed Annie waving at her from the next group. The man took her through another reel and then pointed out the barrels in one of the barns, where she queued for a mug of cider.

As she sipped the welcome drink she peeped into the adjacent barn where cooks and kitchen maids were setting
out a supper of cold joints of meat, pies and pickled vegetables with chunks of newly baked bread and slabs of freshly churned butter. She had never seen so much food in one place. Neither had she seen so many folk gathered together like this before. Annie loomed beside her. ‘Are you enjoying yourself, me ducks?’

‘I am, Annie. Are you? You look lovely in that gown.’

‘Ta, love. It’s one from the draper’s table wi’ a bit of alteration here and there. I’m walking out with one of the under-gardener’s, you know.’

‘Oh, which one is he?’

‘He’s the one you danced with first, silly.’

‘Oh. He was nice. That was nice of you to send him, too.’

‘Aye well, if you like the dancing, you go and stand where folk can see you. You’ll be safe wi’ any of the lads here, else the steward will have his guts for garters.’

‘Oh, is that why he’s here?’ Daisy had noticed the tall gentleman who had been with Lord Redfern in the counting house strolling around rather than joining in the dancing. He had a lady with him in a lovely gown who she guessed was his wife. Daisy watched her in admiration. She thought, not for the first time, that there were not enough ladies actually living in the Abbey, only Lord Redfern and his ward, Master James. Such a pity, she sighed.

But Daisy only wanted to find Boyd and dance with him. She couldn’t see him anywhere in the crowds and pushed her way into the barn. She was hungry too, but no one ate until his lordship’s party arrived. The flares were lit giving a lively focus on the fiddlers and callers, but casting the perimeter in gloom.

Daisy wandered around the darkness looking for Boyd. But there was no moon and the contrast with the flares
made it difficult to see anything. Through the trees she glimpsed a light and quickened her step to investigate. Her boot tripped on undergrowth nearly throwing her headlong into brambles but eventually the trees gave way to a track and she saw the looming shape of a farmhouse ahead. The lights were from a carriage drawn up in front of the wooden portico. As she drew closer she saw Boyd holding the bridle of the lead horse and hurried forward.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Daisy! Go back to the dancing.’

‘Not without you. What are you doing here?’

‘I was called away by the stewards.’

‘Is this his lordship’s carriage?’

‘Yes, so keep your voice down. You shouldn’t be here.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she whispered.

‘His lordship was taken poorly on the way over here.’

‘Is he dying?’

‘I don’t know. Go and wait in the trees until they’ve done with me.’

Satisfied with this response, Daisy wandered out of the pool of light from the coach lamps to the gloomy cover of the trees. A rider approached at a gallop followed by a second carriage. There was a commotion as some of the party changed carriages.

Liveried footmen carrying lamps were everywhere and, fascinated, she moved forward for a better view.

‘Well, who have we here, I wonder?’

Daisy jumped and inhaled sharply. She had not seen the young gentleman approach. A footman was close behind him.

‘Are you spying on me?’ the gentleman asked.

‘No, sir.’

‘Then what are you doing lurking in the trees?’

Daisy’s eyes concentrated on the toes of her boots. ‘I was looking for my—’ she stopped, not wanting to implicate Boyd in her apparent misdemeanour, ‘for my—’ she could not think of anything she might be looking for and lapsed into silence.

‘Bring me light.’ The footman came forward but the young gentleman turned and wrenched the lantern from his grasp. ‘Now leave me,’ he ordered and the footman bowed dutifully and melted away.

He held it close to Daisy’s face. She could smell the burning oil and feel the heat coming through the glass. ‘I thought as much. You’re the little maid who can read and write. I saw you talking to that farm worker holding the horses.’

Her eyes widened as she recognised Master James from
when she had signed the ledger on quarter day. Remembering Annie’s words she looked at the ground and bobbed a curtsey. ‘Beg pardon, sir.’

Daisy remained silent as he studied her in the lamplight and spoke more to himself than to her. ‘You’re not even pretty. But there is something about you that – that draws me …’ Suddenly he glanced over his shoulder and added, ‘He’s your sweetheart, I suppose.’

Daisy’s mouth turned down. She was hurt because she had tried really hard to look pretty for the dance. She concentrated on his boots. They were highly polished dancing shoes with buckles.

‘Well? Is he?’

‘No, sir.’

‘No? He’s a fine-looking fellow, don’t you think? Would you like him to be?’

‘Oh no, sir, he’s my—’ Again, her voice faded away. Then she thought that neither she nor Boyd had done anything wrong. The sounds of music and laughter could be heard in the distance. This is a feast day, she thought, and I am not anywhere I’m not supposed to be. She ignored Annie Brown’s advice and raised her chin. ‘He’s my brother and he promised he would dance with me and now he can’t because he’s got to see to your horses.’

To her immense relief he seemed to find this amusing and he smiled. It was a boyish grin and she realised he wasn’t any older than Boyd, it was just that he acted it with his noble airs and graces.

‘What’s your name?’

Oh no, she was in trouble after all. She kept her eyes down and answered, ‘Higgins, sir.’

‘I mean your given name.’

Only Annie and Boyd used her Christian name and she hesitated.

‘Answer me,’ he prompted.

‘It’s Daisy, sir.’

Another pair of buckled shoes appeared behind him and his footman whispered urgently, ‘His lordship is asking for you, sir. He is too poorly to continue with the evening’s celebrations.’

The young gentleman didn’t say anything else. He handed back his lantern and followed the footman back to the carriages. Daisy watched Boyd leading the horses to turn the front carriage round for the return journey with its ailing occupant. Finally relieved from his duties he crossed to the woodland track and called her name softly.

‘I’m over here,’ she responded.

‘What did Master James want with you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Good. He will be master of Redfern Abbey one day. You oughtn’t to be speaking to him.’

‘I know. Annie said as much. But he spoke to me first. He asked for my name.’

‘You’re not in trouble, are you?’

‘I don’t think so. He wanted to know what I was doing talking to you.’

Boyd gave a dissatisfied groan. ‘I knew they’d see you.’

But Daisy, normally so concerned about her brother, continued her own train of thought. ‘He said I wasn’t pretty.’

Boyd’s groan turned in a guffaw. ‘Well, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re very pretty indeed.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘He’s an aristocrat so he’s used to ladies in sumptuous silks and
feathers and can’t see beyond your simple gown. Don’t you take any notice of what he says.’