The Lost Ancestor (18 page)

‘Mary!’ Edie greeted, standing and
unexpectedly throwing her arms around her.  Mercifully, Edie hadn’t aged
or turned into a haggard monster—she was exactly the same as when she had last
seen her.  Except now her face was glowing; she wore a big smile.

Mary held her sister tightly.  She
was back. 
They
were back. 

‘Guess who’s got a job?’ Edie said,
standing up and swishing her hair back theatrically.

‘Have you?’ Mary said, delighted. 
‘Tell me about it.’

‘It’s
second
housemaid at Durrant
House!  Can you believe it?’ Edie exclaimed.

Mary knew that she was forgiven.  Not
only had Edie got a higher-status job than her now, it was in Durrant House—a
much bigger and more widely known establishment than Blackfriars.  That
Edie had trumped her was totally fine with Mary, so long as they were no longer
fighting.  ‘Congratulations!  Well done.  What’s it like there?’

‘Amazing!  I haven't officially
started yet, but I
adore
the job and they all adore me.  I’m so
grateful not to have got the job at Blackfriars.  How are you liking it
there?  Come and sit down and tell me.’

The twins sat side by side, while Mary
plucked snippets of truth from the last three months.  She selected
stories and anecdotes judiciously: she made no mention of her time with Edward
and excluded stories which might lead Edie to become jealous or stories which
painted a true picture of her unhappiness as a third housemaid, which might
have given Edie an opportunity to gloat. 

‘Sounds okay,’ Edie said, not
convinced.  ‘Are you actually enjoying being a housemaid?’

‘Yeah,’ Mary said feebly.  Even
she
didn’t believe what had just come out of her mouth.

‘What about Edward?  Has he mentioned
me?  Is he getting my letters okay?’ Edie asked.

Mary shrugged.  She knew the time
would come when she would have to tell Edie about her engagement to Edward, but
now was definitely not that time.  ‘I’m not sure.  It’s funny, but I
don’t actually see him that much.  You know what it’s like about female
and male servants mixing.  It just doesn’t happen.’

‘True,’ Edie said.  ‘They must be
working him jolly hard, he hardly ever writes back to me.’

‘Mum will be pleased about your new job,’
Mary said, changing the subject.  ‘Does she know yet?’

Edie shook her head.  ‘No, but guess
what?  She can come out—next Wednesday.  Do you fancy coming with me
on your afternoon off and fetching her home?’

Mary’s eyes suddenly lit up.  ‘Of
course, that would be great.’  She lowered her voice to a whisper. 
‘Hopefully then Caroline will push off.’

Edie laughed.  ‘Oh God, I hope
so.  You’ve no idea how unbearable it’s been here.  I even resorted
to staying with Lucy in Eastbourne just so I could get away from here.’

‘So that’s settled, then, we’ll meet back
here next week and go and collect Mum.’

Contrary
to how she had expected to feel, Mary had enjoyed her afternoon off.  She
had stayed with Edie for the remainder of the afternoon and evening, the pair
of them chatting just like they had used to.  Mary felt like at least one
of the weights had been lifted from her shoulders.  When she had returned
to Blackfriars that night, she found the place eerily empty.  Evidently
the trip to Scotland had gone off as planned, for the only staff she found in
the servants’ hall for that evening’s supper were the first footman, John
Wiseman, who was temporarily in charge of the remaining domestic staff, Bastion,
Charles Philips, the head gardener and the scullery maid, Joan Leigh.  As
soon as she set foot into the servants’ hall, Mary wished that she hadn’t
bothered.

‘For the sake of keeping things running
smoothly,’ John Wiseman had said, standing for the occasion, ‘I’m going to ask
you to sit in your usual seats.’

Mary sagged from the pettiness but knew
better than to argue back.  She took her seat, opposite Joan at the end of
the table, a huge gulf open between them and the other three servants. 
There was no conversation at all, but Bastion, in his own contemptuous way,
made it clear through his grunts, groans and French outbursts that he was livid
at having been left behind, the Mansfields preferring to employ a local
Scottish chef for their time at Boughton House.

With the silent supper finally over, Mary
headed up to her bedroom with Joan irritatingly close behind her.

‘Here, do you think Lady Philadelphia’s
pregnant?  That’s what Sarah reckons.’

‘I don’t care for gossip, Joan,’ Mary said
airily.  She did care for gossip but, having been on the receiving end of
Joan’s tittle-tattle, she decided to take the moral high ground.

‘Shall I come in your room while
everyone’s away?’ Joan asked.

‘No, thank you,’ Mary said.  To have
that snooping little creature in her room would be simply awful.  As much
as spending nine nights by herself scared her, she would rather spend a
sleepless night alone than have Joan in the room.

‘Please?’ Joan persisted.  They had
reached the top of the ninety-six stairs.  ‘I don’t fancy being by
myself.’

‘Tough.  Goodnight,’ Mary said,
entering her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.  With the house so
empty, she closed the latch on the door and slid the bolt across.  It was
the first time in her life that Mary had ever slept totally alone; it was one
of the best nights’ sleep she had ever had.

Wednesday
12
^th
April 1911

‘Miss
Herriot, fetch me the oriental cocoon coat, would you, there’s a dear,’ Mary said
to the looking glass in an exaggerated fashion, gesticulating with her
hands.  She couldn’t quite believe her luck.  She really
was
in with the Mansfields—they really did see her as more than a domestic
servant.  Dare she actually say that she was a friend of the family? 
None of the other servants or even her own family would possibly believe it,
but this morning Lady Rothborne herself had invited her, Mary Mercer, for a
walk in the rose garden.

‘Do you like roses, Mary?’ Lady Rothborne
had asked her, as they strolled side by side through the formal, rectangular
beds.

‘Oh yes, I love them,’ Mary had
answered.  ‘Especially white ones.’

Lady Rothborne had humoured her. 
‘Yes, but do you
really
like them?  Roses are a species like no
other.  The sheer number of varieties is truly staggering; each
unique…almost with their own personalities.’

They had continued on, taking stock of the
passing roses.  Mary had watched and mimicked the way that Lady Rothborne
seemed to absorb and devour each of the different species.

‘I come here when I need to be reminded of
the past.  Nothing awakens prior associations more than odour in my
opinion.  There have been rose gardens on this very spot since Tudor
times.  Imagine, four hundred years of such beautiful specimens.  My
great grandfather planted many of these,’ she said, indicating a bed just
beginning to awaken from its winter slumber.  ‘The old-time perfume of the
Centifolia, the dusky sweetness of the Damask that inspired the wallpaper and
furnishing of the grand saloon, the refreshing sweetness of the China roses—all
planted by him.  All absolutely exquisite.  And if Mr Phillips and
his team do their job properly, those roses shall outlive most of us.’

‘But I thought Blackfriars belonged to
your husband’s family,’ Mary had said.

‘His and mine.  We share a bloodline;
we were second cousins,’ Lady Rothborne had told her.

‘Oh,’ Mary had replied.  She was
taken aback by this piece of news, although she didn’t quite know why.

‘Rather like you and your cousin, Edward,
isn’t it?’

Mary’s cheeks had turned crimson. 
‘Yes.’

‘And how has your courtship
developed?  Is it love, I wonder?’ Lady Rothborne had questioned.

‘I really think so,’ Mary had said. 
Lady Rothborne had, since the first moments of her time at Blackfriars, taken a
keen interest in Edward and her.  Just days ago, Mary had been summoned to
the library where Lady Rothborne had intimated that having
relations
with Edward was a normal and natural part of courtship.  Mary had seen
little reason to hold back from telling her everything.  ‘He’s even
proposed to me.’

Lady Rothborne had stopped and turned to
Mary.  ‘Proposed indeed!  How delightful.  A Blackfriars
wedding.  We
must
ensure that you have something delicious to wear
for the big day.  Perhaps something with a white rose on it.  Come.’

Lady Rothborne had led Mary to Lady
Philadelphia’s wardrobe and thrown open the doors.  ‘What takes your
fancy?’

‘All of it!’ Mary had said with a laugh.

‘Then you are going to have to try some of
it on,’ Lady Rothborne had said with a smile.

Mary was shocked.  ‘Are you pulling
my leg?’

‘Absolutely not.  I’m sure
Philadelphia wouldn’t mind and besides which, she is currently in Scotland
watching my son harassing some poor old beast around the Highlands.  What
about this one?’ Lady Rothborne had said, carefully pulling out a beautiful
lilac gown and handing it to Mary.  ‘Go on, try it.’

Mary had seemed reticent, but did as she
was being asked.  She untied her pinafore and placed it neatly on the
floor then unbuttoned her black dress and let it fall to her ankles.  Her
face flushed as she stood before Lady Rothborne with so little clothing.

‘Well,’ Lady Rothborne had said, running
her eyes up her body.

Mary had turned her back to Lady
Rothborne, uncomfortable to be semi-naked in her presence.  She quickly
reached for the lilac gown and pulled it up over her waist and onto her
shoulders.  It was a little tight, even though she and Lady Philadelphia
were of similar build.

‘A good corset will do the trick,’ Lady
Rothborne had said.  ‘I don’t quite think lilac is your colour,
though.  Try on some others.’

Mary had looked uncertainly at Lady
Rothborne.  Despite her hope and growing belief that she was becoming more
to the Mansfields than the third housemaid, she still held an uncertainty about
trying on someone else’s finest clothes without their knowledge.  Even
she, with her humble wardrobe, would not have appreciated somebody else putting
them on without her knowing.

‘Go on,’ Lady Rothborne had said.  ‘I
have one or two things to attend to, so I shall leave you in peace.  I
realise you probably do not wish to be seen unclothed by a person elderly
enough to be your grandmother.  Take your time.’

Mary had nodded hesitantly and watched as
Lady Rothborne silently left the room.  She had stood uncertainly for a
few moments, unsure of what to do.  Then she had turned and faced the
wardrobe and saw it.  A stunning red dress made of silk, with tiny white
flowers embroidered on it.  She wasn’t sure if they were roses or not, but
it didn’t matter.  It was truly beautiful. 
Dare I? 
Really? 
Mary’s unease had not abated; she couldn’t try it on—it
didn’t feel right. 
I could take it out and touch it, though,
Mary
had reasoned.  Carefully, she had picked the hanger from the rail and held
it in front of her.  She had to try it on.  There was nothing to feel
guilty about, she had been
told
to try it on.  If she considered it
an instruction from her employer, then no harm could be done.  Laying the
dress gently on the bed, she had unbuttoned the back, slipped it from the
hanger and stepped into it.  She had stared into the full-length looking
glass, staggered at how a simple item of clothing had transformed her into one
of the dazzling beauties on the postcards beside Edie’s bed. 
If only
Edie could see me now,
Mary had thought.

Mary took a deep breath and stared at
herself in the looking glass, absorbing her reflection.  She would
certainly need a corset, but apart from that it was perfect.  She had
found the dress that she would wear when she married Edward.  They had not
discussed the finer details of the marriage, but she would like it to be soon,
and in Winchelsea church.  A smile crept over her face as she imagined the
day.  It would be a warm summer’s day—but not too hot.  The church
would be crowded with family and friends.  The Blackfriars servants alone
would take up a good few pews.  Then there would be the Mansfield
family.  Maybe not all of them, but certainly Lady Rothborne would be
there, possibly even Lady Philadelphia herself.  She would dearly love to
have the church filled with fresh roses cut from the ancient Blackfriars
beds.  Mary closed her eyes and allowed her imagination to take
over.  She was there, on her wedding day to Edward and it was
perfect. 
Truly
the best day of her life.

She was taken aback when she opened her
eyes, but smiled nonetheless.  In front of her, quite unexpectedly, stood
Mrs Cuff, Miss Herriot and Lady Philadelphia.  By the aghast looks on the
faces, they had not run into Lady Rothborne yet.  Mary suddenly felt silly
and foolish, yet she didn’t need to—she had been given permission to be
here.  Still, it would take some explaining.

‘Miss Mercer, kindly explain why you are
in my bedroom, wearing my clothes?’ Lady Philadelphia demanded, stepping boldly
towards her.  Gone was the charming, kind person Mary had seen when they
were last together in this very room.

‘I…I…’ Mary stammered, unable to formulate
an explanation.  ‘I’m looking for a wedding dress.’  As soon as the
words were out of her mouth, Mary regretted them.  They were silly and
unfathomable to the people standing before her, who knew nothing of her
engagement.

‘Miss Mercer, you’re making things worse
for yourself,’ Mrs Cuff exploded.  ‘
What
are you doing?’

Mary needed to think fast and explain
herself fully.  She took a deep breath and began her explanation. 
‘I’m engaged to my cousin, Edward, and Lady Rothborne said that I could find a
dress amongst Lady Philadelphia’s wardrobe.’  It was brief, but it covered
it.

A look of profound astonishment and
incomprehension passed back and forth between the three women. 

Lady Philadelphia let out a horrible,
sardonic laugh that chilled Mary and told her in no uncertain circumstances
that she had not been believed.  ‘
Lady Rothborne
told you to help
yourself to my wardrobe?’

Mary nodded pathetically.  ‘Ask her.’

‘Yes, I certainly would do,’ Lady
Philadelphia said.  ‘Except that she isn’t here.’

‘And hasn’t been all day,’ Mrs Cuff added.

Mary’s eyes began to fill with hot
tears. 
This can’t be happening!  This is a huge mistake.
 
With her lip quivering, Mary tried to speak.  ‘She
was
here. 
She left about ten minutes ago, I promise.’

‘Miss Mercer, please stop lying, it will
serve you no use.  You are no longer an employee of Blackfriars, so
telling such wild stories will not help your case,’ Lady Philadelphia
ranted.  She turned to Mrs Cuff.  ‘See that she leaves immediately.’

Mrs Cuff nodded obediently.

The realisation of the situation and its
far-reaching implications hit Mary just as surely as if she had been struck
down by a speeding automobile.  A torrent of emotion was made manifest in
a great outpouring of tears.

Mary’s time at Blackfriars was over.

Edith
Mercer stared into the tiny hallway mirror and smiled.  At last, her thick
and previously unmanageable hair was obeying her.  It fell, in neat
ringlets just like Ellaline Terriss’s centre-parted locks and she was
happy.  Using much of her first pay packet, she had visited the best
hairdressers in Rye.  She had taken the postcard of Ellaline Terriss with
her and told the hairdresser to copy the style precisely.  Whilst in Rye,
Edith also purchased for herself a new summer dress, which she now proudly
wore.  Just one week from hers and Mary’s eighteenth birthday, her skin
and body was finally beginning to behave as she wanted.  Things were
looking up for Edith.  After being overlooked for the job of third
housemaid at Blackfriars, she had secured a promising and exciting job as
second housemaid at Durrant House.  With her new job, her new hair and
clothes, a surprising wave of confidence filled Edith as she carefully powdered
her face.  There was just one thing missing: a man in her life. 
Edward.  Although his replies to her letters came seldom and were usually
of the briefest in nature, she was sure that he wouldn’t be able to resist her
when he next saw the woman that she was growing into.  Edith remembered
how Mary had disapprovingly commented on their potential courtship owing to him
being her cousin.  But it wasn’t unheard of and it certainly wasn’t
illegal, so the family would just have to get used to the idea.  Love was
love and that was all there was to it as far as Edith was concerned.

Edith’s growing certainty and joviality
elevated when she remembered the very reason that she was getting all dressed
up: it was the day that she and Mary would be collecting their mother from the
sanatorium.  She was finally coming home, which hopefully meant that
Caroline would be leaving.

She looked at the carriage clock quietly
ticking on her bedroom fireplace.  Mary would be finishing work in about
half an hour.  Edith thought about what to do while she waited.  She
had an idea.  Rather than wait around the house, she would walk down to
the Blackfriars gates and collect some of the lovely wild flowers growing there
and meet Mary on her way up the path. 
She will love that,
Edith
thought. 
I’ll pick some flowers for her and some for Mother.
 
Edith was so taken with the idea that she bound down the stairs and out of the
house without saying a word to her father or to Caroline.  Her father
wouldn’t have even uttered a response, but she was sure that Caroline would
have some bilious remark to make.

Edith closed the door behind her and
stepped out into a beautiful April day.  The day was unusually warm and
all of the houses that she passed had their windows flung wide open, releasing
a burst of the sounds and smells from within.  Knowing that her neighbours
might see Edith in her new dress with her music-hall-star haircut gave her an
extra spring in her step.

The picturesque flowers nestled around the
base of the large stone Blackfriars pillars came into view: a stunning
concoction of pink fairy foxgloves, white fritillaries, yellow Jew’s mallow and
pink sorrel, all bathed in a pool of gorgeous sunlight.  Edith hurried
over to them and, with a warm contented smile, she set about plucking some of
the stems from the ground.  In just a few minutes, her left hand was
filled with the delightful flowers. 
Mother and Mary will absolutely
love these!
Edith told herself. 
But it needs more colour
. 
She knew places just inside the Blackfriars estate where she could find some
superb white field pansies.  And then there were the bluebells just the
other side of the old abbey ruins.  She knew that it was technically
trespassing, but everyone in the village helped themselves to the odd flower or
pinched a bit of fruit every now and then.  Nobody would mind, she told
herself as she stole into the grounds.