A Dream of her Own (31 page)
‘If you say so,’ Iris replied, and Constance suspected that her listless tone had nothing to do with her condition.
My brother’s wife doesn’t want me here, she thought. If I had more pride I should make some excuse and slip away now, but I can’t, not yet. Constance knew that having come so far at last, she had to set foot once more inside her childhood home.
Chapter Sixteen
They’ve ruined this room.
Constance looked round in dismay.
Constance looked round in dismay.
Robert had led the way to the small sitting room where her mother had answered her correspondence and seen to the household business. But in Agnes Bannerman’s day the room had been light and airy with oriental rugs scattered on the polished floorboards and the furnishing kept to a minimum. In fact, Constance could remember only her mother’s elegant writing desk, a bookcase, an occasional table and an armchair at either side of the small hearth, nothing else.
Now, heavy carpet covered most of the floor. Dark green waxy-leafed plants and a profusion of pottery knick-knacks stood on occasional tables, and gloomy oil paintings featuring Scottish glens and romantically ruined castles obscured the walls. Her mother’s elegant silk-upholstered furniture had been replaced by overstuffed leather and velvet chairs and embroidered cushions.
Constance took advantage of one of these cushions by stuffing it into place in the small of her back. Although she knew she didn’t show it yet, she was nearly six months pregnant. The dresses that John had designed and made for her hid her condition very skilfully. John’s inspiration had been fuelled by the desire to maintain reserve and respectability without harming the child she was carrying, and he had succeeded. She knew that if he worked hard enough he had the talent to become a fashionable couturier.
Today she was wearing a cleverly flared three-quarter-length woollen biscuit-coloured coat over a tailored walking dress of the same colour. Both dress and coat were trimmed with brown velvet the same colour and material as her toque. She had secured the hat on her piled-up hair with a creamy faux-pearl hatpin that John had chosen.
However, Constance knew that, no matter how proud John was of her appearance, he would not have been pleased if he knew she was still walking about so freely and so far from home. He didn’t mind if she strolled as far as the park and he had even asked Mrs Green to accompany her on such jaunts and told them to treat themselves to cakes and tea at the Willow Tea Rooms. But he also wanted her to rest as much as possible. Today’s excursion would not please him. However, she thought, he came home so late these days that there was no danger of him finding out.
It was obvious that Robert and his wife had not guessed that she was expecting a child. But then Iris was completely taken up with her own condition. Constance watched surreptitiously as her half-brother settled the sulky-looking girl in the most comfortable chair and brought her an embroidered footstool. Then he crossed to the bell pull near the hearth.
After he had tugged it once he kneeled to make up the fire. ‘It’s chilly, isn’t it?’ he asked over his shoulder. ‘The May flowers may be in bloom but I think we’re going to have to wait a little longer for any real warm weather.’
‘At least it’s warmer here than it is in Berwick,’ Iris said, and she gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘And, Robert, you shouldn’t do that, you should wait for the girl.’
‘I know.’ He smiled. ‘But the poor little thing is still getting used to being in service. And, while I’m thinking about it, perhaps I’d better go down to the kitchen myself and see that the tray is set up properly.’
‘Really, Robert, there’s no need ...’ his wife began.
‘I think there is. You know you get upset when things aren’t done quite how you like them.’ He turned and smiled ruefully at Constance. ‘Iris has very high standards and I don’t want her to have to start training any more new maids, not now.’
Constance watched him go. How loyal he is, she thought. The truth of it is probably that his wife is a demanding and difficult mistress. I wonder how she would have coped with Polly? For a moment she felt guilty when she remembered her wedding day. She remembered how eager to please Polly had seemed and yet she had still been quick to find fault with the poor girl. Had she been too eager to establish herself in her new position as a mistress rather than a servant? Perhaps.
And yet Polly
had
needed the rough edges smoothing over. Well, anyway, they were rubbing along together well enough now, especially as Constance was willing to turn a blind eye to the number of times Albert Green found an excuse to call at the back door. Constance smiled.
had
needed the rough edges smoothing over. Well, anyway, they were rubbing along together well enough now, especially as Constance was willing to turn a blind eye to the number of times Albert Green found an excuse to call at the back door. Constance smiled.
‘Do you find it amusing?
She turned her head to find Iris glaring at her crossly.
‘Amusing?’
‘The fact that my servants are impossible?’
‘No, of course not. I know how difficult it can be training a new maid. In fact I’ve had some problems myself.’
‘Have you?’ Her brother’s wife found this interesting and she studied Constance anew as if still trying to assess her position in the social scale. She allowed herself a brief conspiratorial smile. ‘You know, I find the working people here are not as respectful as those in the Borders,’ she confided. ‘The girls from the families serving the big estates have been brought up to know their place. These town folk are a rebellious lot with too many ideas about their rights. Rights, for heaven’s sake!’
Constance tried to imagine what would have happened if she had stood up for her rights when she had been working at the Sowerbys’ house in Rye Hill - and failed. Either Iris had been very unfortunate in her choice of servants so far, or she was an even worse mistress than Mrs Sowerby. At the thought of the Sowerbys her mind gave the customary shudder and, quickly, she blanked out the unwelcome memories.
‘Constance?’ Her brother’s wife was staring at her.
‘Sorry. Did you say something?’
‘Yes. I asked you why you came here today.’ The warmth had dissipated and both her look and the tone of her voice were suspicious.
‘Oh.’ She ought to have been prepared for this question. ‘I ... I wanted to see the house. I was curious to see if was still as I remembered it.’
‘If you mean you want a guided tour your curiosity will have to remain unsatisfied.’ Her mouth clamped shut in a mean little line.
‘Guided tour?’
‘I won’t allow you to go tramping through my home.’ She gave the slightest emphasis to the word ‘my’.
‘I wasn’t going to suggest such a thing.’ Constance was shocked at the animosity.
‘And do you live near by?’
‘Not ... not too far away.’ Instinctively Constance knew that Iris would think it very strange that she had walked across the Town Moor unaccompanied. She would consider it not quite the done thing.
Luckily Iris hadn’t noticed Constance’s hesitation, and she continued, ‘You really didn’t know that your brother was living here?’
‘No. How could I? You know that we lost touch with each other when ... when our father died.’
‘And do you want to renew your acquaintance now?’
‘Acquaintance! We are brother and sister—’ Constance broke off when the door opened and Robert hurried in.
He had caught her last words and he glanced swiftly at his wife who beamed a smile at him. ‘Aah,’ she sighed, ‘the tea. How welcome.’
A very young girl followed him into the room carrying a tray. She stood uncertainly in the centre of the room while Robert lifted forward an occasional table. Before doing so he had had to remove a bowl of wax fruit, and both the young maid and Constance saw Iris’s irritation as she watched him put the bowl in the hearth.
As soon as she had placed the tray on the table the girl escaped. As the door had closed behind her, Iris snapped, ‘The fruit, Robert. It will melt!’
Constance felt sorry for her brother and she was amazed at his patience as, with a self-deprecating smile, he placed the bowl on another table a safe distance from the crackling flames.
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, my love,’ he said. ‘I should probably live like a barbarian.’
He took over the duties of pouring the tea and, for a while, they were silent. By the time he was settled in his chair he seemed to have received some unspoken message from his wife, for when he spoke to Constance again, he sounded subdued. ‘I can see that Iris is tired,’ he said. ‘I was going to suggest that you should stay for lunch but perhaps—’
‘Of course,’ Constance was quick to reply. ‘I shall call another day.’
Her brother and his wife spoke together. ‘Shall you?’ Iris asked challengingly while Robert smiled and said, ‘Oh yes, Constance. I do hope so.’
He didn’t see his wife’s frown and continued, ‘There is so much we have to talk about ... so much I don’t know about you. For instance, I can see that you are married. And from the quality of your clothes, forgive me if this is presumptuous, but we did grow up together, your husband must be ... well... prosperous.’
Constance saw Iris’s expression change to one of mild curiosity. Perhaps she was even wondering whether she should have been a little more welcoming. It pleased Constance to reply, ‘Oh yes, John does very well. But now I must go.’
Iris remained where she was and Robert walked through into the hall with her. ‘I mean it, Constance. You must come again.’
‘Mm?’ Suddenly she was distracted. Rather than her brother’s voice she could hear voices from the past. Hers and Robert’s as they ran shrieking up and down the wide sweep of stairs, the two kittens darting up and down ahead of them and in no danger of being caught. Her mother’s voice gently chiding them but overcome with laughter at their antics. Their father’s voice as he walked through the door . . .
‘Whatis the meaning of this uproar? Can a man not look forward to peace and harmony when he returns to his own home?’
But he had been laughing. Indeed, he joined in the chase and soon there was an indignant kitten in each of his pockets.
‘Poor little things,’
her mother had scolded.
‘Give them to me. They must go back to the kitchen at once for a saucer of milk...’
her mother had scolded.
‘Give them to me. They must go back to the kitchen at once for a saucer of milk...’
Constance stopped in the middle of the hall and took hold of her brother’s arm. ‘Robert, what happened to the kittens?’
‘The kittens?’ He frowned.
‘You know, when Papa ... when he died and we had to leave this house, Maggie Muff had two little kittens. I feel ashamed but I just can’t remember what happened to them.’
Robert smiled. ‘They came to Berwick. Maggie Muff and her two little kittens in one basket. There’s no need to worry, Constance. My grandparents knew how attached I was to them and said that of course they should come with me. Grandmother grew quite fond of them and was very upset when Maggie died.’
‘Died?’
‘Old age, I should imagine. But her babies - grown cats they are now - are still there. Constance, what is it? Are you crying?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’ But her voice was small. ‘Robert, may I go out through the garden room?’
‘Of course. But why?
‘Oh, the old superstition ... go out the way you came in ... you know?’
‘I suppose so.’ He led the way to the door at the back of the hall. ‘But when shall I see you again? You and your husband, of course. John, did you say?’
‘Yes. John Edington. But I’m not sure if he would be welcome here.’
‘Whyever not?’
‘I suspect we are not the kind of people that your wife would want to receive.’
Robert stopped by the French window of the garden room and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Trade, Robert. To put it bluntly, John is a shopkeeper.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Robert laughed. ‘But then we’re not exactly landed gentry - well, to be perfectly correct, Iris might be. However, that didn’t stop her from marrying me.’
‘You’ll have to explain.’
‘How do you think I can afford to live here?’
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