Heir to Greyladies (11 page)

She repeated the excuse to Mrs Stuart, surprised at how easily the lie slipped out.

‘I see. Well, never mind that now. What were you thinking about, refusing to let the master help you with that lawyer’s letter? I’ve never seen him so angry.’ She leant forward, speaking earnestly. ‘I thought you’d learnt your lesson last time, you foolish girl. If there’s one thing the master won’t tolerate, it’s disobedience. Tell me at once what was in the letter and we’ll take it to the master for his advice.’

‘I’m sorry but it’s private.’

The housekeeper gasped. ‘Are you mad? You’ll lose your place over this and then he’ll remember his old threat of taking you to your stepmother.’

Harriet said nothing.

‘You’ve got that stubborn look on your face again, and it won’t do.’ She sighed and her voice became almost pleading.
‘We servants can’t afford to be proud or stubborn, Harriet. You know that.’

‘I’m sorry if what I’ve done upsets you, or the master, but sometimes things are … private. Even for servants.’

‘Well, don’t say I haven’t warned you.’

‘No, I won’t. Thank you for trying.’

‘Well, you’d better get back to work now. There are bound to be orders flying. The master will be making sure we all know he’s in charge.’

Before she did, Harriet nipped up to her bedroom to hide the letter, then went about her work.

She couldn’t help worrying about Mr Joseph and wondering how he was getting on, but the housekeeper kept her too busy to go near him, let alone help him.

After he left Harriet in the library, Joseph watched his mother climb the stairs, then went into the breakfast parlour and rang for a pot of tea and a scone. He’d not eaten much at breakfast, because of his quarrel with his father.

After he’d finished, he made his way slowly and painfully up the stairs. When he got to the top, he looked down regretfully at his wheeled chair standing to one side in the hall. Pollins usually took it up and down the stairs for him several times a day.

He’d miss the chair greatly because he got tired when he walked around. However, he was stronger than he used to be. He had to remember that. He’d cope. Other people did. He wasn’t a fool.

His manservant was waiting for him in the bedroom. ‘You should have rung for me, Mr Joseph. I’ll go and fetch your chair up.’

‘Thank you.’

When Pollins came back, Joseph sat down in the wheeled chair with a sigh of relief. ‘You’d better sit down for a moment. I have something to tell you: I’m leaving and I have to go today.’

His long-time companion turned pale, looking anguished.

‘Father’s already told me you won’t be able to come with me. I know that’s not your choice. What did he threaten to make you agree to that?’

‘He said he’d turn my brother and his family out of their cottage, and dismiss Vic from his job on the estate. My mother’s old and infirm. She lives with them now my father’s dead, as you know. If it was just me, I’d not mind what the master did, but it’ll hurt them.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘He’s changed a lot lately, the master has. I think it’s Mr Selwyn’s troubles have caused it.’

‘Yes. And your brother has five children depending on him, too. I do understand why you daren’t disobey Father. I shall miss you greatly, though.’

‘Is there no way you can stay, Mr Joseph? No compromise possible?’

‘None. I won’t marry that poor Baudrey girl. Now, I’d better get started. Will you help me pack a couple of suitcases? And then pack everything else in a trunk or two until I can let you know where I am? I’ll go down to the library once we’ve finished here and pick out my own books. I’ll take a few with me but the rest will have to be stored in the attic till I have somewhere to house them. Can you see to that for me?’

‘Yes. I can at least do that for you. You’ll write to let me know where you are, Mr Joseph? In case I can ever join you? I wouldn’t need wages.’

‘You’ll always be welcome to work for me.’

‘You’d better write to me care of my brother Vic, then. We all heard about the master wanting to open Harriet’s letter.’

‘Disgusting, isn’t it? Father’s still living in the dark ages, I think.’

‘Money’s a very powerful thing. I wish you had more of it.’

The two men began sorting through the clothes and underwear. Soon two suitcases were full and Pollins went to get help in bringing down some trunks.

While his manservant was away, Joseph took his godmother’s jewellery from its hiding place and put it in one of his suitcases.

When Pollins came back, he sent him to the stables to ask if the brake was available. This was where things would become extremely difficult if his father refused to let him use the family vehicles.

But Pollins came back to say Bert Billings would be waiting for him at the back of the house.

‘Does my father know I’m using the brake?’

‘No, sir. And the vicar has come to call, so the master will be occupied for a while. We could take your trunks down as well if you go straight away. Then you’d be sure of keeping all your things.’

‘I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.’

‘Me and Bert have decided to plead ignorance if the master questions us about helping you. After all, he hasn’t given us any orders about
not
helping you, has he? Now, I’ll go and see if the coast is clear. And … I think you should take the wheelchair with you as well. We’ll hide it under a
blanket. I can say I’ve taken it up to the attics if the master asks.’

‘Thank you. I shall miss you greatly, Pollins.’

The older man nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To Reading.’

‘And after that?’

‘Who knows?’

It was amazing how the servants banded together to help him leave. The groom helped with the suitcases and trunks, the gardener stood at the corner of the house, keeping an eye out to make sure the coast was clear as they left. But the vicar’s gig was still at the back of the house, so they felt fairly confident they could get Joseph away while his parents were still entertaining their visitor.

Most of the servants came out to offer their best wishes for Joseph’s future happiness, all except Mrs Stuart. But she didn’t try to stop the others from saying goodbye, or tell the master what was happening.

Harriet came out with the cook, her eyes saying what she couldn’t put into words, that she’d see him tomorrow.

In spite of how well this was going, Joseph felt nearly sick with nerves as he hauled himself up beside Bert on the seat of the brake.

His father was right. He’d lived a very cocooned life and knew little about how to manage in the world, apart from what generalities he’d read in books, newspapers and magazines.

He prayed Harriet would get away safely. Surely she would? No one would expect her to creep out during the night. He needed her in so many ways.

Bert coughed to get his attention. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but seeing as you’re without help now, I sent a message to my nephew Frank, Mr Joseph. The poor lad’s restless and was going to leave the village and look for work in a town. If you’ll just pay his fare into Reading, he’ll help you on your journey, deal with your luggage and other things. That way you’ll both benefit.’

‘What a good idea! I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Do you think your nephew would stay with me temporarily and take Pollins’s place until I’m … more settled? I’ll pay him decent wages, of course.’

‘We can only ask him. But I ’spect Frank will agree. As long as he’s out of the village, he’ll be happy. The girl he loved upped and married someone else and he’s very cut up about it. He never did like his job, though.’

At the station a young man came forward to greet Bert, who took him aside and started whispering.

Frank beamed at him, then came across to Joseph, smiling. ‘I’ll be happy to work for you for a few weeks, Mr Dalton. Very happy.’

‘Thank you. I’m grateful.’ He looked at Bert. ‘How do we find out when the next train leaves?’

‘There’s one in fifteen minutes,’ Frank said. ‘I asked. In case.’

‘Good. I’ll buy us both tickets. Frank, you’d better travel with me first class in case I need help.’

All too soon the train arrived and his new servant helped Joseph on board, while Bert followed them with the two suitcases and the trunks were loaded into the luggage van.

The guard stood there impatiently as Frank lifted the wheelchair into the luggage van as well, lodging it carefully
in among packages and boxes and two mail sacks so that it couldn’t move about. As soon as the compartment door was closed, the guard blew his whistle and the train chuffed slowly out of the little station, gathering speed.

Joseph leant back and closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Frank. ‘So. That’s done. I’ve left home.’

‘Good for you, Mr Joseph. So have I.’

‘I’m sorry about your girl marrying someone else.’

Frank chuckled. ‘I don’t mind at all. I didn’t want to get married yet, you see. It made a good excuse for leaving, that’s all. Even my Mam said she understood.’ He shrugged and pulled a wry face. ‘I didn’t like deceiving Mam, but she wanted to keep me tied to her apron strings till she passed me on to a wife. It’s the twentieth century now, and I intend to see more than one small village before I settle down.’

‘We have a lot in common, then. My mother and father wanted to wrap me in cotton wool and keep me shut away.’

‘You didn’t get into the village much, did you?’

‘No. Or anywhere else, come to that. Until recently.’

The train rattled along, the rhythm of its wheels very soothing.

‘Where are we going, sir?’

Joseph wondered what to tell him, then decided on the truth. ‘Apart from a few nights at a hotel, I haven’t a clue.’ But he was in charge of his life now, wasn’t relying on his parents, didn’t have to answer to anyone but himself, so he could decide later.

And that felt good.

During the evening, Harriet managed to sneak up to her bedroom on her own for half an hour while the other servants were sitting chatting over a cup of cocoa. At the moment she shared a bedroom with Amy, a new girl who slept like a log every night and had to be shaken awake in the mornings. Harriet doubted she’d have any trouble leaving the bedroom unnoticed during the night.

She packed her things quickly and systematically, cramming her suitcase with as much as she could fit in. After that she filled an old sacking bag she’d made herself and used for storing oddments and books.

If you owned as few possessions as she did, you didn’t want to lose a single one. Sadly, she’d have to leave her books behind. She hesitated … Well, all but the family Bible that had been her mother’s. She valued this more than any of the others and somehow felt it to be important to her, she couldn’t imagine why.

She hid the case and bag in the mop cupboard on the landing. Not much risk of them being discovered at this time of day. She hung up her best clothes there, too, ready to change into for her escape.

When everyone came to bed, she got undressed, keeping her underclothes on beneath her nightdress without sleepy Amy noticing.

Harriet had no trouble staying awake after the lamps were turned off, all except one burning dimly on the landing, in case of an emergency. She felt extremely alert, and was sure her eyes were wider open than usual. Excitement seemed to be sending her blood racing through her veins, and she had great difficulty lying still.

As the house grew quiet, she could hear, very faintly, the big clock in the hall two floors below, striking the hours and quarter hours. When she’d first come to Dalton House, that clock had disturbed her sleep, but now, like everyone else, she was used to it and hardly noticed its melodious chimes.

Tonight she counted every one.

At half-past one she got up and went out onto the landing, where she pulled the nightdress off and stuffed it into the sacking bag. Then she slipped into the skirt, blouse and threadbare jacket she wore to church on Sundays. Her hat was already in the bag because she didn’t want it blowing off as she walked, and anyway, it was only an old navy felt.

Through all this, the other servants slept peacefully, the clock chimed again and the old house creaked around her. Once something rustled in the distance and Harriet froze, alert for other movements. But there were no other sounds, no footsteps, no doors opening.

She crept down the back stairs, carrying her suitcase, then came back for her bag. They were heavy and awkward, but she would just have to manage to carry them both once she got outside the house. She needed absolutely everything in them.

On her second journey down the stairs, she stopped on the first floor to leave a note for Mrs Stuart on her desk, then she carried on down to the kitchen.

The outer door was locked, of course, and the big key made a lot of noise, so she didn’t go that way, but the scullery door was fastened only by two bolts. She slid them back slowly, inch by inch, relieved when they made the faintest of snicking noises.

As she opened the door, something touched her ankle and she let out a squeak of shock before she realised it was only the kitchen cat. After lifting her bags outside, she shooed the animal inside again, and closed the door.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. This was it. She really was leaving. Picking up the bags, she set off across the stable yard. Not far to go now, she told herself, and she’d be off the estate.

When a figure loomed out of the darkness in front of her, she stopped dead with a gasp, her heart thudding in her chest. Disappointment speared through her. How had she been discovered so quickly? How had she given herself away?

‘What are you doing out at this hour, lass?’

‘Oh, Bert! You gave me such a shock.’ Now that her eyes were used to the darkness, there was enough moonlight to see him staring at the suitcase. She prayed he wouldn’t feel it his duty to give her away.

‘Come round here where we won’t be overheard.’ He took her into the tack room, where his deep voice was a comforting rumble in the darkness. ‘Running away, aren’t you?’

She reached out to clasp his arm. ‘Yes. I have to, or
the master will take me back to my stepmother and my stepbrother … touches me.
Please
don’t give me away, Bert. I’m afraid of him.’

‘He must be a brute. Don’t worry. I won’t give you away. Those bags of yours look heavy. Is someone coming to help you?’

‘No. I have to go into the village, because I want to catch the milk train into Reading. I can manage.’

‘Have you got somewhere safe to stay, friends to help you? I don’t like to think of a pretty lass like you wandering around on her own.’

She hesitated but she trusted Bert, who never said a hurtful word and did many kindnesses for his fellow servants. ‘I’m going to work for Mr Joseph.’

He chuckled softly. ‘Ah. That’s all right, then. Though I don’t know whether you’ll be looking after him or he’ll be looking after you. I think he’d make a better master here than anyone else in the family, even if the poor lad can’t walk straight.’

‘He’s a very kind person – doesn’t deserve to be so badly treated by his parents. They wouldn’t even let him take his wheelchair. That’s cruel.’

Bert chuckled. ‘They didn’t tell us who work in the stables about that, did they? So it got put into the back of the trap, that old wheelchair did.’

‘I’m glad. He does need it.’

Bert picked up the suitcase. ‘Come on, then. Let’s be getting you to the station. I’ll carry the case, you take the bag. Heavy, isn’t it?’

‘I’m taking everything I can, though I had to leave most of my books behind.’

‘You’re like Mr Joseph, love your books. Me, I never bother with anything but the Sunday newspaper. Now, walk on the grass as we go down the drive. The gravel’s noisy.’

‘I don’t like you to lose your sleep.’

‘A man my age don’t need as much sleep as a young ’un, and since I haven’t got a wife to nag me, I reckon I can do as I please, night or day. I often go for a walk early in the morning, so the others are used to me coming and going. I’ll probably get back without them waking, anyway. In any case, I won’t need to mention seeing you.’

Tears came into her eyes. ‘Oh, Bert, I was dreading lugging my bags to the station. I’m so grateful for your help.’

As they turned out of the gates and onto the lane that led into the village, he leant closer to murmur, ‘We should keep our voices down, even now. Someone may be up with a sick child, for all we know. Now, best foot forward. We need to get you to that station.’

When she saw the light of the single lantern that was always left burning overnight outside the small branch station, Harriet’s spirits lifted.

Bert set down the case next to the wooden bench on the platform and looked round in disapproval. ‘You’re going to be cold, waiting out here.’

‘It’ll be worth it.’

‘Did you leave a note?’

‘Yes. On Mrs Stuart’s desk. I’m leaving her in the lurch and I’m really sorry about that.’

‘She’ll understand. Want me to ask her to hide your books in the attic? Maybe you can get them back one day.’

‘Do you think she would?’

‘I’ve always found her very fair.’ He started to leave, then
turned back again. ‘See you get as far away as you can from here, lass. You don’t want the master catching up with you. He’s turned nasty lately, especially if he’s defied. Thinks he’s above the law.’

‘I’ll try. It depends on Mr Joseph.’

‘Tell him I said to get you away. Remind him that his father’s good friends with the local magistrate and has used his friendship before to get someone charged and locked up unfairly.’

‘Mr Dalton wouldn’t do that to his own son.’

‘No, not to his son, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do it to you.’

‘Oh. I’ll remember your warning.’ She took two quick steps towards him, stood on tiptoe and kissed his bristly cheek. ‘Thank you, Bert. I hope we meet again.’

‘So do I.’ He patted her shoulder then walked quickly away.

She stood watching him go, staying there even after he’d disappeared from sight. Eventually, she looked round and shivered, feeling very alone in the darkness.

No use feeling sorry for yourself, my girl, she thought, looking up at the station clock. It said twelve minutes past two in the morning. Three hours to wait and the night was chilly.

She sat on the rough wooden bench, watching the moon come and go behind the clouds, but after a while she felt so cold, she began to walk up and down. But there was nowhere to shelter from the wind. It wasn’t a strong wind, but it was damp and chilly, sucking the warmth from her body.

Every now and then she went to the front of the small
building to check the station clock, but its hands seemed to be moving painfully slowly.

Her main worry now was whether the stationmaster would make a fuss about her leaving. He’d think it a bit strange because he knew she worked at Dalton House, and they’d normally have sent her here in the brake. Well, if he tried to stop her, she’d tell him she’d been sacked and pretend to cry, if necessary.

Other worries filled her mind until she realised she was letting this get her down. She’d got away from the house, hadn’t she? And she’d soon be away from the village, too.

After that, who knew where she’d end up?

Had Mr Joseph meant what he’d said, about … valuing her? She hoped so, couldn’t bear the thought of not staying with him.

Was she being a fool, expecting too much of him? She didn’t know.

Where was he now? Sleeping comfortably in the hotel, she hoped. Waiting for her to join him.

She forced herself to walk briskly to and fro to warm herself up, though she felt so tired that what she really wanted to do was to lie down and sleep.

Four o’clock. Only another hour to wait.

No one at the hotel stared when a lame man turned up in a wheelchair, with a servant to help him with his luggage. They even found him a room on the ground floor, a comfortable one used for older and infirm clients.

Frank was very happy about escaping from the village and his high spirits cheered his master up. Joseph’s bad hip was aching and he was exhausted by the time they
were installed in the bedroom, but he was used to that.

He had to tell Frank to unpack a clean shirt and hang it up, and to get out his nightclothes. Then he explained that Frank would be able to get meals in the hotel’s servants’ quarters and should stay away from the guests’ area except for coming to this room.

‘Do you mind sleeping in here with me on the truckle bed? I think it’ll be easier if we stick together. You aren’t used to servants’ ways and they might get suspicious.’

Frank went across to try the narrow bed. ‘This’ll do me fine. Nice to have a bed to myself.’ He looked across apologetically. ‘I ent used to servants’ ways, I know, so I hope I don’t give offence if I do something wrong, Mr Joseph.’

‘I’m not my father. I don’t stand on my dignity and I don’t get upset when someone’s honestly doing their best.’ He frowned. ‘Oh, and I forgot to say, I’ll pay you the same wages as Pollins for helping me.’

‘Fine by me. I won’t lie to you, though. I don’t want to be a servant for ever. I got other ideas. Bicycles. I’m good with them, want to set up to sell and repair them. But I don’t mind staying with you for a few weeks. It’ll let me get my bearings and I’ll be able to save a bit more money. I’ve not spent much time out of the village because my pa’s an old stick-in-the-mud.’

‘I’ve as much to learn as you have, probably more. I’ve spent most of my life shut up in Dalton House, except for an occasional visit to London, when I was whisked to and from the station then hidden from view.’

Frank looked at him, opened his mouth then shut it again.

‘If you want to say something, say it. I’d prefer us to be honest with one another.’

Frank was inexperienced enough in the ways of servants to take him at his word, and Joseph found he liked that frankness.

‘We all think it’s a shame how they’ve locked you away, Mr Joseph. You’re not the only lame man in the world, after all. Nothing wrong with your brain or face, is there? Besides, if you don’t practise walking, how will your legs get stronger? You was all white and wambly when you was a little boy, but your face is fair rosy now.’

Joseph stared at himself in the mirror. When he could see only his head and shoulders, he looked perfectly normal, in good health even. He wished the rest of him matched. Frank was still speaking.

‘Why didn’t Mr Pollins come with you today? Everyone knows he’s devoted to you.’

‘My father threatened to throw his brother and family out of work and their cottage if Pollins came with me.’

‘Well! I never heard the like. That’s downright mean, that is. An’ I don’t care if he is your father – Mr Dalton shouldn’t have done it.’

‘It is unfair. Very. And I’m not upset by what you’ve said. My father isn’t … I’m not close to him. Or he to me. The only one he really cares about is my mother.’ His brothers had always been ashamed to be seen with him.

‘That’s sad for you, sir. I may want to leave home, but I’m fond of my ma and pa, an’ I know they care about me.’ Frank frowned, as if getting his thoughts in order. ‘I’m talking too much, speaking out of turn.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Joseph laughed suddenly. ‘I enjoy chatting to you.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you this, then, as well: if you were like your
father I’d not have worked for you, whatever Bert said. But he told me you talk to servants as nice as you please and I can see he was right.’ He gave Joseph a shrewd look. ‘Odd sort of servant I am, eh?’

‘Just right for an odd master.’

Frank went to pull out his own nightshirt and put it under his pillow. ‘Nice feather pillow, this.’ He turned to survey the room with some satisfaction, ambled over to the window, examined the ornaments on the mantelpiece and smiled at Joseph again. ‘Proper luxury, this is, for me. Shall I fetch you some food now?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You should eat something and I’m famished, even if you aren’t. I could wheel you out for a walk afterwards, if you like. Get a bit of fresh air.’