Langdown Manor (9 page)

‘Hulloa!' George waved, stepping down from the motor's running board. He gave the metalwork a quick flick with a cloth. ‘What do you think?' he said, proudly. Its pink carriage gleamed like a car in a showroom. I was astonished. There didn't seem to be a single dent in the metalwork. It was hard to believe what a battering it had taken only yesterday. I felt a bit sorry for George. He loved that car, and now it had to be sold.

‘It looks as good as new,' I said.

‘She's a beauty, isn't she,' George said lovingly.

I'd gone round to see the car as soon as breakfast was over. I was curious to see if it was roadworthy again. It was parked where Clemmie had said it would be – in one of the garages, next to Uncle's green motor and the carriage Aunt still liked to use when paying her afternoon calls. A vehicle that was unrecognizable had been hauled outside to make room for it. Clemmie had been to see the car. Arabella had shown no curiosity in it at all. She and George had barely spoken since Uncle's outburst. Her dwindling inheritance clearly rankled.

George tossed down the cloth. ‘Fancy a spin?'

He had to be joking!

‘I thought it was to be sold,' I said.

George shrugged. ‘I'll bring Pater round.' He slapped the side of the motor. ‘One spin in this girl and he'll change his mind.'

Did George always get what he wanted? His motor was a topic none of us had dared raise since the accident. Uncle had been icily polite to both of us since then. Did George really think he would thaw enough to let him keep the car?

George crouched down and peered under the chassis. ‘Fred, how are you getting on?'

It was only then that I saw the pair of legs sticking out from under the car.

I felt as if a hand was squeezing my chest.

‘All finished, sir,' a muffled voice said. He began to shimmy himself out.

‘Do you need a hand?' offered George, reaching down.

‘That's all right, I can manage, sir,' Fred said, sliding out from under the car, a spanner in his hand. He clambered to his feet and touched his cap to me. His hands were black and oily. ‘Morning, miss.'

Are you all right?
his eyes asked. They looked strained. He knew I'd been in the car then.

I tried to keep my tone as formal as his. ‘Good morning, Fred.'

I'm all right,
my eyes replied.

George tossed him a cloth. ‘Here, take this.'

Fred put down the spanner and wiped his hands on the cloth. There was a smudge of oil on his cheek. I wanted to touch it, wipe it away, run my hand down his face. I clenched my hands tightly behind my back.

‘I've fixed the problem. You shouldn't have any more trouble, sir,' he said.

Sir! Sir! Sir!
Each time Fred said that word, I felt as if a chasm was being driven between us.

‘Good man!' said George. He smiled at me. ‘Next to driving, tinkering with a motor is the best thing about having one,' he said – even though it was Fred who'd done the tinkering. ‘Now how would my favourite cousin like another spin?'

‘Aunt has forbidden it,' I said.

‘I thought she might, but we don't need to worry about that, do we? It can be our secret.' When I didn't answer he gave me a quizzical look. ‘I didn't think you were a girl who worried about little things like that. Or are you afraid I'll have another accident? I never have before.'

I was silent. I didn't like the way George was talking to me as if Fred wasn't there. And it didn't make any difference what he said. Nothing would tempt me to ride in that car again, even if I hadn't already promised Aunt.

‘Well, maybe not today then,' George said. ‘So what are your plans for this afternoon? How about a ride on horseback, Pen?'

Pen?
No one had ever called me that before.

‘Or is it Penny?' George smiled. ‘Though I think Pen suits you better.'

‘It's neither,' I said. I caught Fred's eye. He was trying not to smile.

‘You haven't answered my question, Mistress Penelope?'

Which? It's none of your business.

‘Let's go out together, shall we? Fred, would you saddle our horses for us?'

‘Wait!' I said. If I wasn't quick, he'd have bullied me into riding with him, too. ‘I can't. I hurt my shoulder – I banged it against the seat in the car yesterday. I won't be able to ride today – or tomorrow,' I added hastily.

‘What a shame,' he said. ‘You must take care of it, so it's better for the dance.'

‘What dance?' I said blankly. No one had said anything about a dance to me.

‘I'm having some friends over soon – for the Meet. They'll be staying for the weekend. We'll have some dancing.'

George seemed to have forgotten that Fred was still patiently waiting.

‘Will that be all, sir?' he said now. ‘I'd best be getting back.'

‘Yes, sorry, Fred. Forgot you were still there,' George said.

‘I'll get Jem to saddle up for you, sir.'

George nodded. ‘Three o'clock please, Fred.'

I watched as Fred sauntered away, hands in pockets. He walked as if he didn't care how casually George had dismissed him. But I did. It made me uncomfortable. I had a sudden picture – me, ordering my kindly ayah about. Was that what I'd sounded like? I cringed, and felt my feet edge me away from the car. I didn't want to spend any more time with George. ‘I must go,' I said. George nodded, before disappearing back into the garage again.

I made my way to the stables.

Fred was in the yard, rinsing his oily hands at the pump. ‘Hello,' he said. ‘You've not come to tell me you want to ride after all, have you? You shouldn't if you've hurt your shoulder.'

‘Can I talk to you?' I said.

‘I'd like to see how badly hurt that shoulder is,' he said. ‘If you don't mind?'

Of course I didn't mind. The mere thought of him touching it made me tremble all over.

‘We'd better go to Starshine's stall,' he said. ‘You can pretend it's her you've come to see. Don't want people talking.'

‘Are they?' I said, nervously.

‘Not that I know. But there's always eyes about, people like to gossip.'

We walked together over to Starshine's stall. She lifted her head when she saw me, and I raised my hand to stroke it. A fiery pain shot up my shoulder. I winced and withdrew my hand hastily.

‘It hurts, doesn't it?' Fred said. ‘He should have taken more care.' He sounded angry. ‘I don't trust Mr George.' He pushed open the door of the stall. ‘Sorry,' he added quickly. ‘I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't respectful.'

‘You don't need to apologize,' I said, following him in. ‘Anyway, I didn't like the way he talked to you.'

‘I'm a servant,' Fred shrugged.
I'm used to it
, he might as well have said. ‘Now I'd like to look at that shoulder.'

He came to my side. I felt his hand touch it gently. I could hardly breathe. ‘Am I hurting?' he said. ‘I don't want to hurt you.'

I leaned as close to him as I could. ‘Fred,' I said, lowering my arm. ‘It hurts less now. Just being here…'

Why was he looking at me like that? Was something wrong?

He walked away from me. He cleared his throat.

‘Polly,' he said. ‘I've something to say to you. Something I should have said before. Then today when Mr George mentioned that dance…' He shook his head. I felt that I knew what he was going to say, but I wouldn't let him say it. Fred and me – we were right together. I knew it. He knew it. What else mattered?

‘Since knowing you. I—' He lifted his hand to stop me, to hold back the words he must have seen in my eyes.

‘Come here,' he said. He took my uninjured arm and led me to the door. ‘See that window up there?' He pointed to an upper window over the stable block on the other side of the yard. ‘Well, that's where I sleep. Now see there.' He pointed to the manor. ‘That's where you live. Can't you see that – anything – between us … can't you see that it's impossible?' He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at me stubbornly.

But if he was stubborn, so was I.

‘No, I can't,' I said. ‘You'll never change my mind.'

‘Polly—'

‘Don't do this,' I said. ‘You're my only friend here.' But we were much more than that. I felt as if I'd always known that we belonged together – ever since the day we'd met. He was the first person I'd ever felt like this about, and I knew that I always would.

I clenched my hands into fists to stop myself from touching him. I wanted to raise them to him, so badly. A lock of his hair had fallen across his eyes. I wanted to push it back, feel it with my fingers, smooth away the little dent I could see growing between his eyes, run my fingers down his cheeks, all the way down to his lips. To touch them with mine. Just thinking about kissing him made me feel almost faint.

Could he truly say that he didn't feel the same?

I laid my head against Starshine. I felt her head come round, her wet nose nuzzle against me as if she was trying to comfort me.
She
understood how I felt.

‘You're coming out soon, aren't you – you and Miss Arabella?'

In March – a month I'd like to erase from the calendar.

‘I won't stand in your way.'

You already are. I can't turn off my feelings so easily, even if you can.

‘Fred, my mother ran away to marry my father,' I said. ‘He's a tea planter. He works for his living. And I'm proud that he does.'

‘But he's a gentleman. I'm not and never will be,' Fred said bitterly.

‘Gentlemen aren't born, they're made. You're more of a gentleman than cousin George will ever be,' I said stubbornly.

‘Then there's money…'

‘You have earnings…'

Fred threw back his head and laughed. ‘Not enough to keep a gentleman's daughter on. Besides, most of it goes to my mam.'

‘Surely you can find another job, one that's better paid?' Why did he put difficulties in our way? Besides, why were we talking about the future? What did that matter? All that mattered was now.

‘Poll, don't make this hard for me.'

‘It doesn't have to be.'

He stepped towards me, and raised his hands. I moved closer to him. I held mine up to clasp his. He stepped back. His hands fell back again to his side. I saw how he clenched them as if he was battling with himself. We looked at each other. I felt as if I could hardly breathe.

He'd change his mind. I knew he would.

‘Leave me,' he said softly. ‘Please.'

I left him, but as I always did, I left part of me behind.

‘Wake up, Polly, it's snowing!' It was Clemmie not Baxter who was leaning over the bed. ‘It's snowing!' she said again, impatiently. ‘Don't you want to get up and see?'

‘Snowing! Really and truly?' I didn't want to leave my warm bed.

‘Yes, yes, come and look!' She tugged at the quilt I'd drawn up to my chin.

I had never seen snow before. Father had tried to describe it. Nasty wet stuff, he'd said. I had to see if he was right. I slipped out of bed drawing the quilt round me and ran to the window, feeling almost as excited as Clemmie. Clemmie got there first. She pulled open one of the curtains. ‘Look!' We stood side by side, watching the thick flakes swirl, like feathers beaten out of an enormous pillow. Snow-covered trees were hunched under their burdens.

By the time we sat down to breakfast the snow had stopped falling, and the sun had poked a hole in the cloud. I was eager to go outside. I wanted to touch the stuff to see what it felt like. Would it stick to me as it did to the trees, or simply melt away in my hands? Clemmie was as eager as me. ‘Mother,' she said, between mouthfuls. ‘Please may we go outside? Polly has never seen snow before.'

Aunt was in an indulgent mood. ‘Very well, but wrap up warmly. You must be careful, Clemmie.'

‘I'm going to build a snowman. Will you help me?' asked Clemmie, as we pulled on coats and hats.

‘Yes, if you show me how,' I said.

Clemmie smiled. ‘I'm glad you've come to live with us,' she said. ‘I couldn't ask Arabella. She thinks she's too grown up.'

Arabella was only six months older than me, but I knew what Clemmie meant. She was one of those girls who can't wait to grow up. I couldn't imagine her ever playing in the snow, or making a snowman; she'd think it was unladylike.

‘Come on!' Clemmie said. Sam opened the door for us, and Clemmie took my hand. We stood on the step and gazed around. It was so quiet that I could hear myself breathe. The whole world seemed to be sleeping under a blanket of snow. ‘We need shovels,' Clemmie said. ‘We'll get them at the stables.' We trudged round to the side of the house, sinking into the snow up to our ankles. I wondered what Fred would say when he saw me. I hadn't seen him for days. I had made myself avoid the stables, telling myself that he would come after me. He would be bound to miss me, as much as I was missing him. He hadn't, but I'd hadn't given up. I knew that we were meant to be together.

We were nearly at the stable gate when I saw Fred emerge from one of the stalls. He didn't look up, but I felt myself blush. I had to hide my face somehow. I bent down hastily and scooped up a handful of snow. ‘Clemmie!' I shouted, lifting the snowball, and taking aim. Clemmie laughed and ducked. The snowball flew through the air. I had just time to see a girl's startled expression before the snowball hit her full in the face. Where had she come from?

‘You … you…' she sputtered, spitting snow out of her mouth. I ran up to her.

‘I'm so sorry,' I said. ‘Are you all right? I didn't see you there.'

‘No,' she said bitterly, wiping snow off her face with her sleeve. There was a red mark on her cheek where the snowball had landed. ‘You never do see us, do you, you young ladies.' I was taken aback. What had brought on such an outburst? I hadn't meant to hit her!

‘I'm sorry,' I said again. ‘I didn't mean it. Truly.'

The girl shrugged and stalked away. I stood there, staring after her. Clemmie ran up to my side.

‘Sarah looked upset,' she said.

‘Who's Sarah?' I asked.

‘Sarah? Oh, she's one of the housemaids.' Clemmie knew all the servants.

‘What's she doing out here then?' I said.

‘She'll have come to see Fred,' Clemmie said casually.

‘Fred?' I said stupidly.

‘Fred. You know. The stable hand. They're sweethearts. They've known each other ever so long. It's supposed to be secret, but everyone knows.'

Everyone except me, Clemmie
. The ground seemed to swim under my feet. I groped for the fence and held on to it.

‘Let's build our snowman,' I heard Clemmie say. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.

‘You get the shovels, I'll wait here,' I said. I leaned back against the gate and tried to take some deep breaths to calm myself. Somewhere I heard Clemmie call to Fred, heard steps run across the yard, but I kept my back to them. I didn't turn round. I didn't want to see him. I never wanted to see him again.

‘Here we are,' said Clemmie, breathlessly. ‘I asked Fred to help us, but he says he's busy.' She had brought two shovels. ‘One each,' she said. I took one from her and we walked back to the front of the house. ‘We'll build it where everyone can see it,' Clemmie said cheerfully, digging her shovel into the soft snow. It felt odd to hear her cheerful chatter when I was feeling as if the world had exploded around me. My shoulder ached each time I drove the shovel into the snow, but it helped remind me that I was still alive. We patted the snow down with our hands. Then we rolled a giant snowball on top for its head. I chatted and laughed, but it didn't feel as if it was me. I felt as if I was watching myself, from somewhere far away, as if I was looking down at us, in the snow. Arabella and George were brought out to admire our snowman, Arabella in her slippers, squealing at the cold and tripping straight back in. George fetched a carrot for its nose, and coals for its eyes.

‘Shoulder better now?' he asked as the three of us walked round to the stables to return the shovels.

‘Quite better,' I lied. ‘We will be able to ride together soon. I'm looking forward to the dance, too,' I added loudly to make sure that Fred would hear. I knew he was not far away – I'd heard him thank George for bringing the shovels back.

We went inside to take off our wet things. My feet felt so heavy – as if they'd hardly carry me up the stairs. I sat down on the bed. I wouldn't let him know how I felt. I'd never forgive him. Never! All the time he had had a girlfriend. All that stuff about a gulf between us when he'd just found it too awkward to cope with two girls at once. He had made his choice now. And he'd chosen her, that housemaid. That girl who had shouted at me. What a fool I had been. I felt my cheeks grow hot.

The snow-covered park had looked beautiful this morning. Now it just looked cold and bleak. Like I felt.

Fred and I would never be together.

I groped for comfort – and found none. I longed to be home in India, to feel Father's warm arms around me, to be with people who loved me. There was no one here I could tell how I felt.
No one. No one. No one.
I gulped – I could feel them come. I couldn't hold them back any longer. The tears began to trickle down my face.