Read Online Angel of Hever Castle, The by Kim Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kim Wright
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her is what happens to them all, I figure. She had her baby and she left.”
“Where do the girls deliver their babies?”
“Upstair s mostly,” Melly said, glancing upward to the ceiling. “They don’t go to the hospital unless there’s trouble.”
“But you didn’t see her after the child was born. Didn’t see her leave.”
Melly shook her head with some impatience, so Emma changed her tack.
“Do you mind me asking why one woman here would serve as another’s maid? Why, for example, Rose Spencer might require an elaborate coiffure for dinner and you are here in the kitchen paring potatoes?”
Melly seemed amused by the question. “You think there can’t be an upstairs and a downstairs, even in a place like this? No, we may all be the same boat, us girls, but some of us are in posh cabins and others in steerage.” She chuckled, and Emma marveled that a girl in her circumstances could manage to show so much spirit. “I’m only here at all,” Melly went on, “’cause my baby was sired by a gentleman.”
“Ah,” said Emma, realization dawning at last. Kirkland School might exist primarily for the daughters of the wealthy , but it also served as a hiding place for servants who had been impregnated by the sons – or perhaps even the fathers – of those same upstanding houses.
“Do you know who the father of Rose Spencer’s child was?” Emma asked, chopping carrots so erratically that Melly was frowning at her work. “Did she ever let anything about him slip? You know, girl to girl, as you were fixing her hair?”
Melly shook her head. “She weren’t that type.”
“Arrogant?”
“Heartbroken. Barely spoke at all except to thank me, to say I’d done a proper job.” The expression on Melly’s face grew sad, even reflective. “Some of them are like that, you know. Walk around here like ghosts, but not saying nothing to nobody, not sleeping, hardly eating. This is a sad house, Miss. A place where women have too much time to think about what they’ve done lost.” But then she paused, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Don’t think her man was her match in social class though, ‘cause once I was telling her that my beau was a gentleman and she said ‘That doesn’t matter,’ which is a queer thing to say, when of course we all know it does. She wouldn’t have said something so foolish lest her own beau wasn’t a gentleman, would she now?”
Emma found Melly’s honesty touching. She was observant and quick-witted as well, and she wondered what would become of the girl once she delivered her child. It was unlikely the mistress of her former house would want her back, fine hairdressing skills or not.
“There,” Emma said, stepping back from the work table. “Despite my promises, I’ve made a proper mess of the carrots, so I suspect that you have helped me far more than I have helped you. If you don’t mind me asking, Melly, where shall you go after your baby is born?”
“Back to my man, Miss. Me and the baby as well, of course.”
“The father of your child has made a provision for you?”
Uncertainty crept across the girl’s features and Emma realized she did not understand the word “provision.” Melly handed Emma a large earthenware bowl and motioned to show she should scoop all the vegetable peelings into it. “He’s coming for us, you see,” she said, “as soon as the baby is born. And the money’s not a problem, for he’s proper up and down, my man is. Only the best will suit him. He smokes Turkish cigarettes and drinks French brandy and drives a carriage…it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, Miss, with purple velvet on the seat cushions. I’ve ridden in it with him, you know. He’s taken me out with him more than once.”
“No doubt he has.”
“Purple on the seats and the curtains and even the rugs. Like it was rigged out for a king.”
“That sounds lovely,” Emma
“Where do the girls deliver their babies?”
“Upstair s mostly,” Melly said, glancing upward to the ceiling. “They don’t go to the hospital unless there’s trouble.”
“But you didn’t see her after the child was born. Didn’t see her leave.”
Melly shook her head with some impatience, so Emma changed her tack.
“Do you mind me asking why one woman here would serve as another’s maid? Why, for example, Rose Spencer might require an elaborate coiffure for dinner and you are here in the kitchen paring potatoes?”
Melly seemed amused by the question. “You think there can’t be an upstairs and a downstairs, even in a place like this? No, we may all be the same boat, us girls, but some of us are in posh cabins and others in steerage.” She chuckled, and Emma marveled that a girl in her circumstances could manage to show so much spirit. “I’m only here at all,” Melly went on, “’cause my baby was sired by a gentleman.”
“Ah,” said Emma, realization dawning at last. Kirkland School might exist primarily for the daughters of the wealthy , but it also served as a hiding place for servants who had been impregnated by the sons – or perhaps even the fathers – of those same upstanding houses.
“Do you know who the father of Rose Spencer’s child was?” Emma asked, chopping carrots so erratically that Melly was frowning at her work. “Did she ever let anything about him slip? You know, girl to girl, as you were fixing her hair?”
Melly shook her head. “She weren’t that type.”
“Arrogant?”
“Heartbroken. Barely spoke at all except to thank me, to say I’d done a proper job.” The expression on Melly’s face grew sad, even reflective. “Some of them are like that, you know. Walk around here like ghosts, but not saying nothing to nobody, not sleeping, hardly eating. This is a sad house, Miss. A place where women have too much time to think about what they’ve done lost.” But then she paused, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Don’t think her man was her match in social class though, ‘cause once I was telling her that my beau was a gentleman and she said ‘That doesn’t matter,’ which is a queer thing to say, when of course we all know it does. She wouldn’t have said something so foolish lest her own beau wasn’t a gentleman, would she now?”
Emma found Melly’s honesty touching. She was observant and quick-witted as well, and she wondered what would become of the girl once she delivered her child. It was unlikely the mistress of her former house would want her back, fine hairdressing skills or not.
“There,” Emma said, stepping back from the work table. “Despite my promises, I’ve made a proper mess of the carrots, so I suspect that you have helped me far more than I have helped you. If you don’t mind me asking, Melly, where shall you go after your baby is born?”
“Back to my man, Miss. Me and the baby as well, of course.”
“The father of your child has made a provision for you?”
Uncertainty crept across the girl’s features and Emma realized she did not understand the word “provision.” Melly handed Emma a large earthenware bowl and motioned to show she should scoop all the vegetable peelings into it. “He’s coming for us, you see,” she said, “as soon as the baby is born. And the money’s not a problem, for he’s proper up and down, my man is. Only the best will suit him. He smokes Turkish cigarettes and drinks French brandy and drives a carriage…it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, Miss, with purple velvet on the seat cushions. I’ve ridden in it with him, you know. He’s taken me out with him more than once.”
“No doubt he has.”
“Purple on the seats and the curtains and even the rugs. Like it was rigged out for a king.”
“That sounds lovely,” Emma
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