‘The mistress called me into the drawin’ room to talk to me about a party they’re throwin’ here in March when Miss Leonora comes home,’ Marcie heard Mrs Roe telling one of the grooms as she sat having a morning break a few days after Mrs Dorsey had returned.
‘Oh aye, an’ what’s that in aid of?’ the young groom asked.
‘It’s to celebrate Master George’s engagement to Belinda Lewis. They’ve not made it official yet, what wi’ Miss Leonora still bein’ away, but soon as ever she comes home we’re goin’ to be rushed off us feet. It’s to be a right grand affair, by the sounds of it; they’re hirin’ a band an’ everythin’.’
Marcie felt the floor rush up to greet her. She wasn’t usually one for having the vapours but this had shocked her to the core.
‘Will, grab her quick!’ Mrs Roe ordered and the young man managed to catch Marcie just as she slithered off the chair.
‘Eliza, get the smellin’ salts,’ the cook ordered and seconds later the foulest smell was wafted under Marcie’s nose, making her sneeze.
‘Ugh … get that away from me.’ She pushed the salts away as the room slowly swam back into focus. Mrs Roe was standing beside her, urgently fanning her with a piece of linen but Marcie barely noticed. It had been days since she’d warned George what she would do if he didn’t stand by her but this news confirmed that he had no intention of changing his plans to marry Belinda. He’d not been over to the hay loft once since she’d informed him that he was about to become a father. Well fine, she thought angrily, if this is how he wants to play it, so be it! Slightly steadier now, she rose to her feet and yanked off her apron.
‘Where is Mrs Dorsey?’ she asked Eliza, who was hovering close by.
‘Er … she was in the drawing room when I was polishing in there a while back,’ the girl answered.
‘Why would you want to know that?’ Cook frowned as she watched Marcie roll her sleeves down and fasten her cuffs.
‘I wish to see her,’ Marcie answered.
Mrs Roe looked horrified. ‘You can’t just go bargin’ in on the mistress! If there’s anythin’ you need to say you must say it through Mrs Bainbridge. You’re only a maid!’
‘I’m quite capable of speaking for myself,’ Marcie snapped, heading for the green baize door, then without further ado she slammed through it into the hallway of the main house. Once outside the drawing room she raised her hand to tuck some stray curls behind her ears then she tapped on the door.
‘Come in.’
Marcie entered the room to find Mrs Dorsey sitting on the window seat that overlooked the lawns, embroidering. She looked surprised when she saw Marcie and asked, ‘Yes? Was there somethin’ you wanted?’
Marcie hesitated, then sticking her chin in the air she answered, ‘There’s something I need to speak to you about. And it’s important.’
‘Oh, then you’d better go on.’ Connie Dorsey lay her embroidery aside and gave Marcie her full attention.
‘The thing is, ma’am, I’ve been seeing your son George for some time now. It was him that told me about the maid’s job that was going here.’
Mrs Dorsey frowned as she demanded, ‘What do you mean … seeing my son? Of course you must have seen him – he lives here!’ There was a note of impatience in her voice now but Marcie would not be deterred.
‘What I should have said is, we’ve been walking out together … courting … whatever you want to call it.’
Mrs Dorsey raised an eyebrow. ‘I hardly think so,’ she snapped. ‘My son is about to become engaged to Belinda Lewis.’
Marcie shook her head. ‘He can’t. He’s already unofficially engaged to me. He promised that he was going to tell you about us while you were all in London over Christmas but then when he came home he said that he’d had to promise to marry Belinda Lewis because it was expected of him.’
‘Utter rubbish!’ Mrs Dorsey was annoyed by now. Who did this girl think she was anyway, coming in here saying such ridiculous things? George would never be so silly as to dabble with the maids. He knew which side his bread was buttered and had always known that he and Belinda would wed one day.
‘It’s not rubbish!’ Marcie said hotly. ‘Just fetch him in here and ask him, if you don’t believe me!’
‘He’s out with his father, as it happens,’ Mrs Dorsey answered, her face straight. ‘But if it will put an end to all this nonsense come back here at five o’clock this evening.’
‘I will,’ Marcie said plainly. ‘But the other thing you ought to know before I go is that I’m carrying George’s child, your grandchild, Mrs Dorsey.’ And with that Marcie flounced away, leaving Connie Dorsey staring after her open-mouthed.
For the rest of the afternoon, Marcie stayed in her room. She had told Mrs Roe that she was unwell, and after the fainting fit she’d had earlier, the cook had believed her and agreed that she should stay in bed for the rest of the day. Eliza had been up to her twice bringing tea and sandwiches, which she later took away untouched, adding credence to the story that she was ill.
Now, as five o’clock approached, she rose and brushed her hair, studying her reflection in the small, cracked mirror that hung above her chest of drawers. She looked pale but her eyes were steely with determination. She wanted the life that George had promised her and she was prepared to fight for it.
Once downstairs she swept through the kitchen and headed for the green baize door again as the cook watched her bewildered. Mrs Dorsey had sent word that dinner was to be delayed that evening and now here was Marcie waltzing off into the main house as if she owned the place. Something was going on, that was for sure, she told Eliza with a sigh.
Once more Marcie tapped on the door and was told to enter and she was gratified to find Mr and Mrs Dorsey and George all waiting for her.
Mr Dorsey had a face on him like a dark thundercloud as he stood before the fire with his arms behind his back. Mrs Dorsey was standing with her hands folded primly at her waist and George was by the window looking decidedly uncomfortable.
‘What’s all this nonsense you’ve been spouting to my wife then, girl?’ Mr Dorsey demanded, his moustache quivering with anger.
George was avoiding her eyes, she noticed, but Marcie stood her ground. ‘Tell them, George,’ she said boldly. ‘About us and the promises you made to me!’
‘I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Marcie reeled, feeling as if someone had slapped her in the face. ‘How can you stand there and say that after all the times we’ve lain together? You told me that you would speak to your parents … That we’d be together.’
‘Ah, so that’s your game, is it?’ Johnny Dorsey drew himself up to his full height. ‘Wanted to be a lady, did you, and you thought you’d trap my son into making it happen!’ Then swinging round to George, he barked, ‘Is any of this true?’
George shook his head. ‘No … she’s lying.’
Marcie’s face crumpled. ‘But that’s not true, George, for God’s sake tell them the truth. I’m carrying your baby … you know I am!’
As he continued to avoid looking at her and shook his head, tears sprang to her eyes. Connie Dorsey was watching her closely and despite her son’s denial, a little measure of doubt crept into her mind.
‘I think you’d best leave,’ she said surprisingly gently. If she was lying, the man responsible would surely stand by her. She was a very pretty girl, after all. But she was also painfully aware that her son had an eye for a shapely ankle, so could it be that she was telling the truth? The thought of it made her blood run cold.
‘I … I won’t leave,’ Marcie said defiantly. ‘This is your grandchild I’m carrying and if George doesn’t do right by me I’ll shout it from the rooftops. Belinda Lewis won’t be so keen on marrying him then, will she?’
‘Look, let’s calm down,’ Johnny Dorsey said, trying to defuse the situation. ‘I’m not an unreasonable man so I’ll ask you, have you any evidence to prove that George is the baby’s father?’
‘Such as what?’ Marcie was clearly very upset now.
‘Perhaps someone who could verify that you have been seeing each other?’
She shook her head, suddenly not so sure of herself. She and George had always gone to great lengths to keep their relationship a secret and it seemed now that was going to backfire on her.
‘Hmm.’ Johnny Dorsey began to pace up and down. ‘It seems that it’s your word against his then … But I’ll tell you what I’m prepared to do. So long as you keep these malicious little lies to yourself, I’ll settle a sum of money to tide you over until after the child is born.’
‘Pay me off, you mean?’ Marcie flared. ‘And then I’m left to bring his baby up while he gets away scot-free? Never!’
Johnny Dorsey shook his head. ‘Then what do you want? You clearly can’t go on working here after this, you must see that. In the circumstances, I think I’m being more than generous. I could send you packing with a flea in your ear and without a penny piece. How would you like that, my girl?’
‘George, please tell them the truth,’ Marcie implored, but he simply remained where he was, staring through the window as if she wasn’t even in the room.
‘You’d best go and pack your things, lass,’ Connie Dorsey said then, more gently. She was clearly upset and not at all sure that she believed her son was innocent. ‘Stay here tonight and before you go in the morning come and see me.’
Marcie’s hands clenched into fists of frustration as she stared at George for what seemed like an eternity. Then, turning on her heel, tears streaming down her cheeks, she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that it danced on its hinges.
‘Right that’s that sorted then. Perhaps we can have dinner now,’ Johnny Dorsey said flatly. Connie, meanwhile, was eyeing George suspiciously and when Johnny left the room to give orders to serve supper, she told him in a stern voice, ‘We’ll talk later, my lad! I’m not so sure that you’re as innocent in all this as you’re saying.’
‘I am so,’ George retorted but his voice lacked conviction and as he left the room her eyes followed him suspiciously.
Upstairs, Marcie threw herself onto her bed and sobbed violently. Everything had gone horribly wrong. What would she do now? And where would she go? She shuddered to think of what Reuben would say if she turned up on his and Nessie’s doorstep, but what option did she have? It was either go to them or the Union workhouse and she had no intention of going there. She shuddered just thinking of it. It stood in the Bull Ring, a dark forbidding place from the outside. On a few occasions, she had seen the children that lived there being marched to Chilvers Coton Church for the morning service on a Sunday, their eyes dull and without hope. They were all dressed in the same shapeless, grey clothes, the girls’ hair shorn so that they were barely distinguishable from the boys. No, she decided, she would rather throw herself on Reuben’s mercy than end up in that godforsaken place.
She was still lying there crying when Eliza appeared sometime later. The girl took one look at her and sat on the side of the bed and gave her a hug.
‘What’s wrong, pet?’ she asked gently.
‘I … I’m goin’ to have a baby,’ Marcie hiccuped. ‘An’ it’s Master George’s but he’s denyin’ it.’
Eliza looked shocked but then suddenly Marcie said excitedly, ‘Perhaps you could tell his parents I’m telling the truth. You always wondered where I kept wanderin’ off to of an evening, didn’t you? Well I was going to see George, see, an’ if you told them that …’
‘Hold on there!’ Eliza held up a hand. ‘How do I know you’re tellin’ the truth? I only know what you told me so if I said any different I’d be lyin’, wouldn’t I? I want to help you, Marcie, truly I do, but I can’t risk losin’ me job.’
Marcie’s shoulders sagged. She and George had made such a good job of keeping their relationship a secret, it really was her word against his and she knew exactly who his parents would choose to believe.