A Dream of her Own (40 page)
‘So that’s why you sent me the letter and just happened to mention that John was away at some mill looking at new fabrics.’
Constance was embarrassed. ‘I sent you the letter to let you know my new address.’
‘Of course you did. And it’s all right, I know that John doesn’t like me to visit you.’
‘Nella, that’s not—’
‘Constance, you divven’t hev to lie for him, and I divven’t think any the worse of you. I’m just pleased that you still want to see me, what with all yer high-class friends.’
‘I haven’t any high-class friends,’ Constance said quietly. And she knew that to be true. She was glad that Nella didn’t pursue the subject.
Instead her friend asked, ‘Do you get along with John’s relatives at all? I mean, he has an aunt and a young female cousin, hasn’t he?’
‘John’s Aunt Muriel thinks that he has married beneath him.’
‘What a cheek!’
‘And I think his cousin, Esther, wanted to marry him herself; consequently she dislikes me thoroughly.’
‘Is she in love with him?’
‘Maybe. But more importantly, the family business will go to John when her father dies.’
‘But that’s dreadful,’ Nella said, and she sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Surely she didn’t want to marry him just for the money?’
‘It happens.’
Constance tried to find a more comfortable position on the chaise longue. Although the day would seem merely pleasantly warm to most people, Constance found herself perspiring constantly. The loose folds of her muslin day dress clung to her body damply and no matter how she sat, the baby seemed to press on something inside that hurt her.
Nella had noticed her discomfort and she frowned with sympathy. ‘Poor Constance,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you can get about much now.’
‘No.’ Constance sighed.
She managed to stuff a plump cushion into the small of her back and then, unconsciously, she began to fiddle with the locket that she wore around her neck. When she saw Nella looking at her attentively, she dropped her hand. She hoped that Nella couldn’t read her mind - couldn’t guess that she had sat at her dressing table a full five minutes before putting it on. The memories of the night she had lost it were still too vivid ...
‘It can’t be much fun being in that condition in the summer heat,’ Nella said. ‘And, I hope you don’t mind my saying so, Constance, but I got a shock when I saw you.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, it’s probably not very ladylike to say this but what a size you are! And it seems to hev happened so suddenly.’
Constance frowned. ‘I know, but Dr Mason has assured me that everything is all right.’
‘A doctor?’
‘John insists I visit Dr Mason, just as he has insisted that I take great care of myself. And apparently, you can carry the child high at first and hardly look pregnant until the baby starts moving into the right position to be born.’
‘Have you long to go?’
‘Not too long.’ Constance hesitated. ‘You know I’m not sure about these things - I had no mother to teach me - but according to Dr Mason it should be sometime in August.’
‘Next month? But we’re almost there! So why on earth did John choose now to move house?’
‘He was adamant that we should move before the baby is born. The old house wasn’t big enough.’
‘Not big enough? There were four rooms upstairs, weren’t there?’
‘We need a nursery.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘And a room for the nursemaid.’
‘But—’
‘John was reluctant to use his mother’s room for any other purpose. You know she died of consumption and he was afraid of lingering infection.’
Nella nodded.
‘But there are other reasons,’ Constance said. ‘Now that John can afford to live a little better, he thought Polly should have a room of her own instead of having to sleep in the kitchen.’
‘Quite right too. Although I’m not sure if the little tartar deserves it!’
‘And John needs a larger sewing room.’ Constance realized that she had referred to the sewing room as John’s domain but she didn’t think that Nella had noticed that she seemed to have given up all claim to it.
‘Well, whatever the reasons, this is a grand place to live,’ Nella said, ‘tucked away at the end of this blind terrace, and you can look out on a nice bit of green from this tower or turret or whatever it is.’
Nella got up and walked over to the hexagonal bay that formed the corner of the room. The turret that jutted out from the corner of the house rose up over all the three storeys and even here, on the ground floor, there was a fine view of the adjacent park.
She stood for a moment watching the children playing and the nursemaids strolling with their perambulators. ‘Can you get into the park from the end of yer street or do you hev to gan right round?’
‘There’s no official way in, but John has discovered a gate in the back yard, although he says it doesn’t look as though it’s been used for years. The padlock is old and rusted.’
‘Hevn’t you seen it yerself?’
‘To tell you the truth, Nella, I haven’t even been up to the top floor yet. I just seem to drag myself around, getting through the day as best I can.’
‘Who would be a woman, eh? Now, shall I gan and hurry that young maid of yours up? I’m dying for a cup of tea!’
Nella didn’t have to go, thank goodness, for Constance knew that Polly was harassed enough with overseeing the final touches of the removal. She had her younger sister Jane to help her, and in fact Jane would be coming in every day from now on to take over most of the rough work.
But Mrs Green had also been helping out and it was she who appeared almost as soon as Nella had spoken, bearing a tray laden with tea and home-made scones.
‘Here you are,’ Constance’s former neighbour said. ‘I’ll put everything on this little table and perhaps Miss Nicholson could see to things.’
‘Of course.’
Mrs Green smiled warmly at Nella. ‘I want to thank you for sending those tickets to Polly. She took my Albert with her, you know. They did enjoy themselves. Polly says she feels quite proud that she actually knows you in person.’
Constance saw Nella’s eyebrows shoot up and she shot her a warning glance. ‘Well, well,’ Nella said, and she covered her mouth with her hand, apparently suffering from a short burst of coughing.
‘Mrs Green,’ Constance said, ‘I can’t thank you enough for helping out like this.’
‘You don’t have to thank me, Mrs Edington. I was very fond of your ma-in-law and I’m pleased to be able to do anything I can. Besides, I feel like one of the family, what with Albert walking out with Polly and your John being so good to him, an’ all.’
‘John is good to Albert?’ Constance was surprised.
‘Oh yes, I told you when we first met that Mr Edington gives my son samples from the shop. Well, at first it was just nice shirts and socks and handkerchiefs and the like, but lately he’s given him a couple of decent suits and no charge wanted.’
‘Well ... that’s nice.’ Constance was perplexed. She had often been unhappy at the way John treated Mrs Green almost like a servant rather than a friendly neighbour, so if he was being kind to Albert that was good. It meant that in his heart he acknowledged how much he owed to this kind family. And yet he had never mentioned his generosity to her. Constance supposed that made it all the more admirable but yet she wasn’t sure ...
‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you two to have a good gossip. I’ve promised to help Polly get the larder sorted out before I go home.’
‘Does young Albert still live in yer kitchen, then?’ Nella asked when the door had closed behind Mrs Green.
‘If you mean does he still visit almost every day, then the answer is yes.’
‘Here’s yer tea. Can you reach if I put it on this daft little table? Now I’m gannin’ to cover a couple of those scones with that delicious-looking raspberry jam. And do you allow yer staff to entertain admirers like that?’ Nella suddenly asked, changing tack.
‘Allow my staff to entertain admirers?
Are you joking, Nella?’
Are you joking, Nella?’
Nella placed the plate with Constance’s scone next to her cup of tea and took her own back to the sofa where there was another occasional table. She smiled but, when she spoke, the tone of her voice was serious. ‘Yes, I’m joking. But you do seem to be familiar with the servants, as they say.’
‘Mrs Green isn’t a servant. She’s been a good friend.’ Constance felt uncomfortable when she remembered that she had often puzzled over the exact place in society of Mrs Green, but she hurried on, ‘And as for Polly, well, I’m ... I’m training her. She’s improved a lot.’
‘Ee, Constance, don’t take on. I wasn’t being serious and what I really wanted to say was that you seem to hev learned a lot from Mrs Sowerby.’
‘Mrs Sowerby! I have learned from Mrs
Sowerby
! Whatever can you mean?’
Sowerby
! Whatever can you mean?’
‘Calm down, for goodness’ sake, or you’ll start something off! What I meant was that never in a thousand years would you ever be like her. I know very well that you and your mother were used to better things - that you were gentry - but your years in the workhouse and then working at Rye Hill have made sure that no matter how rich you become, you’ll never treat poorer folk like scum. There. That’s what I meant.’
Nella bit into her scone and Constance watched her obvious enjoyment. She was aware that she had probably overreacted but she would never have jumped to conclusions the way she just had if it wasn’t for the fact that any mention of the Sowerbys was still agonizing for her. After all these months her violation at Gerald’s hands still conjured up feelings and images that were almost too painful to bear.
Nella finished her scone, took a sip of tea and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Then she looked at Constance. ‘That’s right, drink yer tea - and try to finish that scone; you’re supposed to be building yer strength up, aren’t you?’
Constance laughed. ‘Oh, Nella, you’re as bad as the rest of them. John, Mrs Green and Polly - they have been pampering me as if I were an invalid instead of someone who is simply fulfilling one of life’s natural functions.’
She had imagined that Nella would laugh but, instead, she looked concerned. ‘Natural it may be but I’m sure that you remember as well as I do that women in the workhouse died performing that function.’
‘Yes, but many of those poor women were weak from years of hard work and ill-feeding.’
‘Well, doesn’t that prove that John is right to look after you?’
Constance stared at her friend and burst out laughing. ‘I’m outnumbered. I give in. They can pamper me as much as they want to.’
‘That’s settled, then. Now, let me fill up yer cup and how about another one of these scones? I’ll hev one even although I might hev to take out a few tucks in me wedding dress.’
Constance accepted the scone without protest but her laughter died.
‘Go on, say it, then,’ Nella said when she had settled herself back on the sofa.
‘Say what?’
‘Whatever it is that’s worrying you. Don’t deny it, Constance, I saw it in yer eyes the minute I said “wedding dress”.’
‘We-ell ...’ Constance began, but realized she didn’t have the words to express her fears for her friend.
‘Oh, all right then, I’ll say it for you. You don’t think I should marry Valentino, do you?’
‘Nella, I’m not sure—’
‘Yes, you are and I think I know what’s bothering you.’
‘Do you?’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? If John treats you like an invalid because you’re expecting, you probably think that having a baby would kill me; that I’d die in childbirth just like the poor women in the workhouse. That’s it, isn’t it?’
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