Burnt Norton (7 page)

Molly looked at her father. Shock hit her in the belly. ‘You can’t mean it. I’m happy here with you and the girls and Will. Please don’t make me go.’

‘Why ever not? Any girl who knew what was good for them would die for this opportunity.’

‘It’s no opportunity, and it’s no step up the ladder. He wants me in his bed.’

Molly’s father raised his hand. She thought he would strike her. ‘Enough of your lip! It’s your mother’s fault, too much spoiling. I always said it, and now it’s come to roost. You’ll stay in your room until I tell you to come out.’

Molly ran upstairs to the bed she shared with Will, who was thin and sickly and always cold. She held her brother in her arms.

‘Is it my fault?’ she moaned, staring at the ceiling. ‘Did I encourage him? I don’t have a choice; there’s never been a choice. I’ll run away, I’ll starve in the gutter and freeze to death. Then he’ll be sorry.’

Will held her hand and cried. ‘I love you, don’t leave.’ She cried too, but it didn’t change anything.

Her mother begged her father. ‘Jack, she’s a child. What in heaven’s name are you thinking? Have you not seen the way he looks at her?’

But her father remained unmoved.

Three weeks later Molly packed her bag and said goodbye to Will, whose knees dug into her back at night. She took him to school for the last time, and hugged him at the door. ‘Be good, and we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, send me letters, fine letters in your best hand. Someone will read them to me.’

‘Bye, Molly,’ he said, ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘Hush now.’ She gently disentangled his arms from around her waist. ‘And don’t you forget to say your prayers.’

Later that morning a storm came, and as the thunder crashed around the house, she worked herself into an anxious frenzy. Her mother tried to gather her in her arms, but Molly pushed her away. ‘Why didn’t you stop this? Don’t look so bloody stricken. You could have stopped him! He went and sold me like one of his bloody pigs! You know what’s going to happen to me, and yet you let him send me away?’

‘I tried, my love,’ her mother pleaded.

‘You should have tried harder! You said you would take a beating for any of us, but that was a lie.’

When Mrs Johnson pulled back her sleeve, the truth was revealed in the bruise that swelled beneath her skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said sadly. ‘You know your father when his mind is made up, and I have this to show for it. I couldn’t push it, my love.’

‘It’s all right, Ma, don’t cry. I’m sorry.’

‘I love you, Molly,’ she said at last. ‘I want only the best for you. I’ve tried to persuade myself that something good’ll come of it.’

‘What good? What possible good?’

‘You will be in charge of her ladyship’s clothes. You will mend and embroider, and you will dress her hair. You are a smart girl and you will be doing what you really love. Perhaps this is a path to a better future and we’ve got it wrong. It is quite possible that Sir William is honest in his offer.’

‘You and I both know what he wants.’ Molly buried her head in her mother’s chest. She inhaled her comforting smell, and cried.

‘If there’s any trouble, you come home. I will deal with your father and be damned with the consequences.’

‘Don’t let anything happen to Will.’

‘Of course I won’t. I love him too. I love you all so much, God help me, so I do.’

Molly broke away and opened the door to find her sisters listening at the keyhole. ‘Stop gawping, girls, and come and see me off.’

They walked outside. It was Friday, baking day, and the sweet smells made her homesick before she had even left. As the coach clattered away down the street, her little sisters faded into the distance. She waved her handkerchief and she shut her eyes. ‘Please, God, keep Will safe.’

On a dull spring morning, Mr Godwin taught Latin in the schoolroom. Although his teaching did not inspire in Dorothy the same enthusiasm as lessons with her former governess, it did at least provide some distraction. She was returning a book to the schoolroom shelf when she heard wheels clattering on the cobblestones outside. She rushed to the window, hoping for a visitor, but with a sinking heart she saw her father. She wondered what sort of mood he would be in. She returned to her desk, piled her books together and walked over to her brother.

‘It’s only Father,’ she said. ‘Will you help me with my translation later?’ They chatted as they went downstairs. When they arrived in the drawing room, their father was already there, standing in front of the chimney breast, his hand resting on the large stone mantel. To the children’s surprise he had a smile on his face.

‘Well, have you nothing to say to your father?’ he asked.

‘Hello, Father,’ they said in unison.

‘Good morning, William,’ said Lady Keyt as she came into the room. ‘I hope you have had a pleasant journey?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ He kissed her quickly, and Dorothy noticed his new coat and breeches, cream with mother-of-pearl buttons.

‘There is something I wish to say.’ He pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and delivered his news. ‘Ann, I am delighted to inform you that I have employed a new lady’s maid on your behalf. Miss Johnson is an accomplished girl, and she will be of great service. Above all, she will release you from the burden of responsibility towards our dearest daughter.’

There was a stunned silence.

‘Excuse me, William, but am I hearing you correctly? I don’t wish for any extra assistance with Elizabeth; her nurse gives me all the help that I need.’ Dorothy noticed her mother’s hands turn white as she gripped the back of the chair. ‘I am capable of finding my own lady’s maid. If I wanted your help in household matters, I would ask you. Mrs Selley leaves two months from now, which gives ample time to find someone that suits me.’

‘But my dear, you will like Molly. She is competent and reliable. She is also the daughter of a loyal constituency member. Her father has agreed.’

‘I can see you are on first-name terms with this girl. It’s most irregular – indeed, it undermines my own position within this household. Looking at you, however, it’s obvious that you have made up your mind. I am sorry that we have come to this. So be it, but do not expect my sanction in what I consider to be a blatant disregard for my feelings.’ Lady Keyt smoothed her dress, lifted her shoulders and, with a straight back, left the room.

‘For heaven’s sake, Thomas, why are you fidgeting? Stand still,’ Sir William snapped, turning on his son.

‘I am standing still, sir. It is you who is agitated, not I. If you will excuse me, I’ll go and look after my mother.’

‘Well, Dotty, follow your brother. I realize I can do nothing right in this infernal household!’

Dorothy fumed. Molly Johnson was the landlord’s daughter that her father had likened to Dorothy.

‘Don’t ever call me Dotty. Your right to that name went a long time ago. If you bring this girl to Norton, I shall never speak to you again. Never.’

She glared at her father, picked up her skirts and ran after her brother.

The following morning they ate in silence. When Lady Keyt had finished her breakfast, she folded her large linen napkin and rose to go.

‘Dorothy, I would be grateful if you would spend a little time with Lizzie. I have a slight headache.’

‘Of course, Mama.’

Dorothy looked in on Lizzie on her way upstairs but she was still asleep. She would go to her later. Climbing the stairs to the attic, she passed Annie at the linen cupboard. Sheets lay across her arm, and a jug of water balanced on a china tray.

‘Morning, miss,’ she said. ‘Just going to do the room for the new girl.’

‘Would you do my room first, Annie? I would like five minutes alone.’

Dorothy paused on the threshold of Miss Byrne’s room for the last time. New sheets would cover the bed and somebody else’s clothes would fill the cupboard. She knelt down, prised open the floorboards and removed the book, cradling it in her arms.

Dorothy found Lizzie in her usual place on the half-landing. She was reading, her brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Dotty,’ she raised her head. ‘We must give Miss Johnson a chance. She may be just what we need.’

Dorothy was about to reply when Elizabeth leant forward and stared into the rose garden, the book falling from her lap.

‘Dotty, can you see the boy in the garden? He is looking this way. His clothes are most unusual.’ Dorothy looked outside; the garden was empty and still, save for the leaves eddying around Ophelia’s statue.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ she said gently.

‘Oh, Dotty, I can see that you don’t believe me. Perhaps it is my medication. Now even my mind is going. For just one moment I want to be normal.’ She grimaced, the small scar twisting in her cheek. ‘Can you imagine what it’s like?’

Dorothy couldn’t imagine, it was beyond her capabilities, and for a moment she felt unutterably sad. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she replied at last. She knelt in front of Elizabeth and took her hands in her own. ‘I didn’t see a boy, but if you did, then he must have been there. You are not losing your mind; you are saner than the rest of us put together. I cannot give you back your dreams, but I can give you this.’ She put Miss Byrne’s book into her lap. ‘Miss Byrne wrote these stories for us, and they have given me strength. Perhaps they can do the same for you.’ When Elizabeth didn’t answer she turned the pages. ‘Do you see, Lizzie? The rest of the book is empty. Will you fill the pages with our story? Will you write about everything, the past, the present, and the future, so that someone, some day, might read it and know about us?’ Elizabeth nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

The coachman dropped her bag on the flagstone floor. ‘The housekeeper will come for you.’

Molly looked at her face in the hall mirror. It was not the face she knew, the confident and pretty landlord’s daughter.

‘Morning, miss.’ A footman passed. He winked and smiled, a silver tray balanced in his hand. ‘Mrs Wright will be along shortly. No need to be afraid, she won’t bite.’

‘I’m not frightened, sir,’ she replied, but her words sounded false. She longed for her bedroom, her Will, her mother, anywhere but here.

‘Could have fooled me,’ he said cheerfully, pushing the swing door closed with his foot.

Mrs Wright arrived, her grey hair scraped into a bun. She had small eyes in a mean face.

‘Miss Johnson, come this way. Don’t get any ideas in this house. Do as you are told or you’ll be out of here before you know it. You will answer to me and her ladyship.’

Molly followed her under a stone archway and into a large inner hall. Portraits of long-dead Keyt ancestors stared from the walls; Molly hurried past to avoid their silent gaze.

A footman opened a pair of double doors, and Mrs Wright swept through to the drawing room. Molly cautiously entered after her.

‘Excuse me, Lady Keyt, Miss Johnson has arrived.’ Three heads turned towards her, the same three heads she had glimpsed through the window. Lady Keyt remained with her face in profile.

‘Good morning, Miss Johnson.’ She got up slowly, graciously, and walked towards her, her green silk dress rustling as she moved.

‘Good morning, ma’am.’

‘Curtsy, miss,’ the housekeeper barked. Molly bobbed ineffectually.

‘Mrs Wright, you may go, thank you.’

It was evident that Mrs Wright had no wish to leave. Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she left the room.

‘This is my daughter, Miss Elizabeth.’ Lady Keyt nodded at the girl in a high backed chair. ‘This is Master Thomas, and this is my younger daughter, Dorothy.’

Molly smiled tentatively. Elizabeth was pretty, with her thick fair hair plaited around her head, but the poor legs hidden beneath a blanket saddened her.

‘I believe you are to be my lady’s maid,’ Elizabeth said in her gentle voice.

‘Yes, miss.’

‘I shall enjoy that, I know.’

Before she had time to reply, the younger girl walked towards her. ‘I can’t imagine why Papa employed you; you’re hardly old enough to be a lady’s maid. And you won’t be my companion because I don’t need one.’ She rushed to her sister’s side.

Molly stared at her shoes, covered with mud. She couldn’t believe that she had neglected to clean them.

‘Dorothy, be polite to poor Miss Johnson. We must make her welcome in our home.’ Molly looked up shyly. Despite her broken legs, Miss Elizabeth had the kindest manner.

‘Miss Johnson,’ Dorothy spoke grudgingly, ‘that was churlish. I apologize.’

It was obvious to Molly that Miss Dorothy’s apology did not come from her heart.

‘Dotty, is that an admission of guilt? I cannot believe my ears.’ At the sound of Thomas’s voice, warm and teasing, Molly found herself blushing.

‘Good morning, sir,’ she mumbled, aware of Dorothy’s scrutinizing eyes.

She was grateful for the arrival of Sir William, who came in with two spaniels at his heels.

‘Greetings, Miss Johnson. Welcome to our home. Letitia, Sophie, leave Miss Johnson alone. I do apologize for my unruly dogs.’

‘I love dogs,’ she replied, suddenly aware of her country vowels. ‘I always wanted one, but Ma said there were enough four-legged beasts at the Charter House, and a dog would be one too many.’

‘Well, you will have no shortage of dogs here.’ He smiled. ‘Mathews, I am expecting Mr Clarke; tell him I will be with him shortly.’

‘Yes, Sir William,’ the footman replied.

Sir William turned back towards her. ‘I hope you will forgive me, but I have business with my agent to attend to. I expect, however, that my wife will wish to go through the details of your employment. I hope you will be happy here, Miss Johnson.’

Molly nodded, reassured. His manner was polite. Perhaps her fears had no grounds.

‘Children, I will see you later,’ he said. ‘Ann, I will leave you in Miss Johnson’s capable hands.’

‘Thank you.’ Ann sat down and took up her embroidery. ‘Thomas,’ she said, putting on her glasses, ‘please will you show Miss Johnson the house? We would not want her to get lost.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ he replied.

‘Miss Johnson, after you have unpacked and refreshed yourself, I would be grateful if you would come to my room. I would like to go through the details of your duties.’