the maltese angel (40 page)

the master's study. But unfortunately it lived only a few hours and this had heralded a further period of child-bearing anxiety, for over the previous years she had experienced three miscarriages. Her bright and kindly nature had strained to accept fate, but now it became

somewhat embittered, so that she thought as her father did: had they been still living in the cottages this would not have happened. There was surely a curse on this house and all in it . Patsy turned from the table as Jessie entered the room and said briefly, "You found her?"

"Yes, right down by the far wall. And who do you think she was talking to?"

"I couldn't guess. But it could only be somebody from the village, and they'd likely appear to her as if they were from another country."

"No, it wasn't anyone from the village; it was Mr. Gerald and ... and his mother, from the Hall."

Now Patsy stopped placing an assortment of cooking utensils on the table as she said, "Oh, aye? Well, me da said he was back for the funeral. So he didn't turn out like all the rest. It must be worse up there than it is here, for they've only got two inside the house now, I understand, the old cook and the maid. My! my! Even I can remember when the place was overrun with servants. But that's life."

"What am I going to do with her, Patsy? I mean to ... to prevent her roaming?"

"Well, if she really wanted to roam she could walk out the gates, couldn't she? It's the only place that isn't barred or walled. I've wondered she hasn't done it afore."

"She's been warned not to."

"Huh! She's also been warned not to roam."

Patsy dusted her hands one against the other, and now looking on

Jessie, as Annie might have done, and not unkindly, she said, "Sit yourself down. There's a cup of tea in the pot."

"I ... I don't want any tea. Patsy," Jessie said as she sat down.

"But what am I going to do with her? She has openly defied me. When I asked her to promise not to roam again she said she couldn't, and ...

and then she told me not to lock the door on her. She's only nine, but the way she's talking now she could be ... Oh!" She shook her head.

"She's so intelligent, far above her age, so alive, so wanting to know."

"Well, it'll get worse not better, you know that. She'll be asking real questions shortly. Oh my!" She turned to the table and picked up the rolling pin, then laid it down again as she said, "You should take her away out of this altogether. He's got enough money..." It was noticeable that her reference was to neither 'the master' nor 'your father', but to 'he'. "He's got enough money to let you live

comfortably somewhere else. You could ask him to advance some of your share in the place."

Jessie was gazing down on her locked hands lying on her lap and she knew what Patsy said was the solution. But as much as the child wanted to roam away from this place, all she herself wanted to do was to stay here. This was her home: it had always encased her, and she wanted it to go on. And then there was Carl. The thought of not seeing him some part of every day was unthinkable to her. The fact that Patsy hadn't provided him with a family seemed, in a strange way, to have left him free. She rose abruptly from the chair, saying, "Daddy would never agree to that. I doubt if he would give me a penny, even if it meant keeping me from starving. I have a feeling that he begrudges me my food because I share it with her."

Patsy did not contradict her; all she said was, "In that case, you'll have to keep a wider eye on her. But you won't do it by locking her up, for she's a determined miss if ever there was one." She didn't add, "I wonder from which one she's got it?" Rather, she thought, God help her.

33i

It was on the evening of 28 July 1914, that Lady Lydia put down the newspaper and went in search of her son. She found him in the stables rubbing down their latest acquisition of the new venture, which was a horse.

"Gerald! Gerald!"

"Yes? Yes, Mama? What is it?" He turned to her, and when she thrust the paper at him, she said, "You were right. It's come. Austria's declared war on Serbia and Russia is mobil ising

After he had scanned the newspaper headlines, Gerald said, "Well, they've waited a full month, longer than I thought, since they did their dirty work at Sarajevo, when they murdered the heir to the

throne. Now we will just have to wait and see what Russia and Germany do. It won't be long; a matter of days, I should imagine."

"Oh, dear me, dear me. What will you do?"

"Mama! Mama! Come along. Stop worrying."

"" I can't help it. Oh, Gerald, if you would only see things differently. "

"Now, now. You go in the house this minute and I'll join you after attending to my friend here. Betsy is hungry. She's had a hard

day."

"I ... I don't know how you can take things so lightly, Gerald, when .

"

"Get away, woman! Do you hear me? And take this rag with you." He pushed the newspaper back into her hand.

When, a few minutes later, he returned to the house, she met him in the hall, saying, "A meal is on the table."

"Well, let me get some of this dirt off me and I'll be with you. Five minutes." He held up a hand before her face, the fingers spread.

"That means fifteen to twenty; then it will be stone cold."

"Look; get yours and put mine in the oven. Or I'll do it myself now."

As he made towards the dining-room she caught his arm and said, "No; no. Please! You know how cook can't get over you messing about in the kitchen; and if you start pushing her dinners back in the oven ..

Oh, dear! dear! Go and get your wash, and be quick. I mean it, mind, be quick! "

He was laughing as he ran up the stairs; but there was no laughter on her face as she turned towards the dining-room. The prospect of war meant trouble for him because he was so outspoken in his views. All this would happen, wouldn't it? when he was making such a go with his business ideas with regard to the small holding He and McNamara,

together with the odd-job helper, had worked wonders in less than a year, aided by the new inhabitant of the stables, a horse, albeit

neither a racer nor a hunter, but one that could certainly pull a cart.

And it had pulled some carts of fruit to the market this summer.

So much so, it had made her wonder what had happened to all the fruit in previous years. Of course, then there had been a much larger staff, and as Gerald had finickally pointed out, the staff at Buckingham

Palace could not have gone through half the amount they had managed to sell this year alone. So he would give her two guesses as to what had happened to it. And then he had answered for her. It had likely found its way to the market but through different channels.

Oh, she knew there was always a kind of pecking order in all households such as theirs had been. And often the hierarchy among the servants would have their appropriate pickings from bonuses, depending on the size of orders. She remembered her father saying years

ago that whatever was lost in that way was worth it to keep a happy staff. And he had added that the quartermaster's store should be left to the quartermaster, the implication in their case, she knew, meaning the butler. And her thoughts remained with her early days, those days even before she was brought out in London that were so gloriously

happy; and she asked herself yet again, as she had done many times over the years, would she have married Bede if she hadn't still been feeling the hurt of breaking off her engagement with Raymond after she found out about his mistress? She doubted it, Bede being twenty years her senior and with a grown-up family. He had spelt security, a shield from a dirty world. She had been very naive in those days, hadn't

she?

Yet what was a young girl to think when her future husband showed no intention of giving up his mistress, on the excuse that it was nothing to do with love; he loved her, he said, and perhaps after marriage things might alter. But couldn't she understand the situation?

No; she hadn't been able to understand the situation. And she still didn't. So perhaps she had remained naive.

"You're a silly woman. Why have you not yet started on your meal? I have been seven minutes; I timed myself."

When he sat down and took the cover off the plate he sniffed and said,

"It smells good. I could eat a horse ... but never Betsy. You know, I'm very fond of that old girl. She has worked, hasn't she? She's

been a godsend. Oh, my dear." He put down his knife and fork and, leaning across the corner of the table, he placed his hand on hers, saying, "Don't look like that. It may never happen. I mean,

conscription. And it won't come about right away There'll be dozens, hundreds of them flying to the Colours, all brave fellows dying to be butchered. Oh, I'm sorry." He picked up his knife and fork again, and in a more sober-like voice now he went on, "Anyway, dear, it's nothing new;

conscription's been going on, well, practically down the ages in other countries. They used it in America during the Civil War, and it

started in France sometime in the seventeen-hundreds, as far back as that. It's nothing new, I tell you. "

"I'm not thinking just about the actual conscription, Gerald, and you know I'm not. It's ... it's what people will think because, knowing the position that your father held and your half-brothers do, it will be expected of you. And ... and when you don't conform, as I know you won't' she stressed the last words 'you'll be made to suffer in so many ways. People are cruel."

Again, he laid down his knife and fork before asking her quietly, "What would you have me do, Mama? Deny all my principles and do something that I abhor, such as shooting a man, or whipping off his head with a sword, or stabbing him in the guts?"

He sprang up now and stopped her as she was endeavouring to rise from her chair, and pressing her down again, he said, "Mama, you forced me to talk of this matter, and I can't polish my words. I know your

thoughts are with me war is abhorrent to you as it is to me so why do you want me to ignore my principles and ... ?"

She twisted her body now and looked up at him, saying, "Don't you see?

Don't you understand I don't want you to suffer? And I feel you will suffer more through your opinions and open attitude than you would if you were taking up arms and, be it against all you think, making

yourself fight for the cause of your country. "

He slowly moved from her and took his place at the table again, and after a moment he said quietly, "Mama, I don't believe a word of it.

But what I do believe is that if I were to do as you say I would lose your respect, and very likely your love. Whatever you say now you

would feel deep and grievous disappointment that the one you loved most, and you have impressed this on me, could be swayed to do

something that went against every fibre of his being, just because he was afraid of public opinion. "

A tap came on the door and Nancy Bellways entered carrying a tray and paused half-way up the room, saying, "Oh, I'm sorry m'lady; I thought you'd be through by now."

Lydia turned to her, saying, "Oh, let us have it here, Nancy. We've wasted our mealtime in talking, but we'll soon be through. Just leave it there; I'll see to it."

"Cook left it in the basin, m'lady, and the custard's in the tureen,"

Nancy Bellways now added, 'in case Master Gerald was late. " And he, nodding at her, teased, " You're insinuating, Nancy, that I'm always late. "

"Well nearly, Master Gerald, nearly." She was now smiling broadly at him as she added, "And you'll be pleased to know we've reached the hundredth jar of fruit s'afternoon."

"You have? Marvellous! But carry on. And tell cook I love her I love you both. I do. I do. And wait till Christmas when we take some of that lot to market;

they'll dive on them. "

As Nancy Bellways who, after giving this house forty years' service, was afforded the liberty of what her mistress termed back chat now said, "Oh well, Master Gerald, cook says she's gona lock half that lot up in the cellar so you can't get your hands on any of it, and that'll see us through the winter."

"Oh, does she? Well you can go and tell her that I'm coming out there shortly to have a word with her. Likely box her ears into the

bargain.

You tell her that. "

When Nancy went from the room laughing, Lady Lydia looked hard at her son as she said, "You have learned a special way of dealing with staff, haven't you?"

"Have I? Well, perhaps it's because I served my time as an underling with Hell and Damnation." He laughed.

"You know, I often think of them and the poor peasant, you know, Ronald Pearson, and wonder how he's getting on. I'd like to go up to town one day and look in on him. And, of course, the Cramps."

"You liked that family, didn't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I did, Mama."

"You never told me you kept in touch with them; I mean, wrote to them, until you got that letter."

"Well, I didn't see the need. I just wanted to let them know how I was getting on in my new business. And you know yourself, you laughed at the letter, especially the end." And he quoted: "I hope this finds you as it does me at present, half-stripped to go into the tub when Mam gets out. Dad's got a runny cold and has sewed himself into his vest, camphor block an' all. That'll take care of him for the winter."

' He smiled at his mother now as he said, "And the last bit which expressed their warmth. You remember?

"We'd all like to see you pop in one of these nights, Mr. G." Again Lady Lydia stared at her son, who was now silent and staring down at his plate, and she said in a voice that held a mixture of sadness, and yet criticism, "You always seem happier with that type of person. Don't you, dear?"

He looked at her and moved his head slightly, saying, "It's just that I like people who act naturally. They had nothing to hide, they weren't playing a part: they hadn't to keep up any social class. In fact, they were proud of what they were. And don't think they were all ignorant slobs, as Beverly classes them. There was a bright intelligence