The sound of Reuben opening the back door early the next morning brought Nessie starting awake and for a moment she wondered where she was, but then, remembering her confrontation with Snowy White the night before and her determination to speak to her brother, she hurried into the kitchen.
Reuben glanced towards her but before she could say anything, he told her, ‘Can’t stop now. We’ve got a really early funeral so I have to get the horses and the hearse ready. We’re buryin’ that lawyer from Swan Lane an’ Andre wants everythin’ just right so I’ll have me breakfast later. Ta-ra!’
She sighed as the door slammed shut behind him and after glancing at the tin clock on the mantelshelf she was shocked to see that it was almost eight o’clock. After hurriedly filling the kettle she went to check on Joseph but he was still fast asleep. As she was passing Reuben’s room, she paused, then without giving herself time to change her mind she opened the door and approached his unmade bed. Slowly she lifted the mattress and gasped as she saw that once again there was a small bundle of bank notes there. Surely Reuben couldn’t be stupid enough to try following in their father’s footsteps?
Her father had never been the best of providers and she could remember her mother having bitter arguments with him at times when he would suddenly present her with a wedge of money. At other times most of his wages would go over the bar in the pub and he didn’t like it at all when his wife had demanded to know where all this money had suddenly come from. Now it looked suspiciously like Reuben might be going the same way. The money beneath his mattress was far more than he had earned in the time he’d been working for Andre and if he was getting involved with Snowy White she was sure that he must be up to no good.
Sighing, she reflected that it hadn’t been the best of starts to the new day and with a heavy heart she went to make the tea.
At that moment Marcie was also having a bad time of it. She had bundled her possessions into a bag and after saying a tearful goodbye to Eliza, it was time to go and see the mistress. She had lain awake all night praying that George would have a change of heart and make an honest woman of her and as she tentatively went down the stairs from the servants’ quarters, a tiny bit of hope was still alive.
The cook said nothing when she entered the kitchen dressed in the clothes she had arrived in. Word had clearly spread that she was leaving and she merely inclined her head as Marcie passed her heading for the green baize door.
‘I didn’t think she’d last long,’ she commented to Eliza, pausing in her act of rolling pastry for an apple pie. ‘Too pretty and too flighty fer her own good, that one is, if yer were to ask me!’
Eliza bit down on her lip. She had told the cook that Marcie would be leaving but she hadn’t told her why, although she doubted it would stay a secret for long. Gossip spread like wildfire among the servants.
Marcie, meanwhile, was standing in front of the door that led to the morning room. Raising her hand, she gently tapped on it and almost instantly a voice ordered, ‘Come in!’ The mistress had clearly been waiting for her.
Connie Dorsey was standing by the long sash-cord window that overlooked the sweeping lawns surrounding the house, but there was no sign of George and Marcie’s heart sank. She had come expecting a fight but the mistress seemed perturbed and upset, particularly now that she had seen Marcie again. With her lovely brunette hair and her deep-blue eyes, Connie was again forced to wonder if there was indeed any truth in what the girl was saying. She adored her son but she was also painfully aware of his failings and his weakness for a pretty face.
Crossing to a small armoire she lifted an envelope and held it out to Marcie, saying, ‘I hope everything goes well for you, pet.’
Marcie blinked and stared at her without offering to take the money. ‘You hope all goes well for me?’ she snapped incredulously. ‘But how can it after this? I’m carrying your grandchild … doesn’t that mean anything to you? How am I supposed to raise it on my own when the money in that envelope has run out? Don’t you care that your own flesh and blood will be labelled a bastard?’
‘That’s quite enough of that talk, miss!’ Connie had drawn herself up to her full height, but there was a wobble in her voice. ‘George still maintains that this child is nothing to do with him.’
‘Then he’s a liar!’ Marcie declared passionately. ‘And if he thinks I’m just going to walk away without a word he has another think coming!’
Connie sighed. ‘Look, just take this and go,’ she persuaded. ‘There is nothin’ to be gained by us standin’ here arguing like two fishwives. You’ll find there’s more than enough in there to see you through till after the baby is born and then I’ve no doubt some chap will snap you up, a pretty girl like you.’
‘But I don’t want some chap!’ Marcie was on the verge of tears. ‘George is the child’s father. It should be him takin’ responsibility for his actions!’
‘But George is engaged to be married to someone else,’ Connie pointed out gently and Marcie tossed her head.
‘Yes, Belinda, and we all know why, don’t we? It’s because his father wants the two families to come together because her father has money. Ask yourself, how would I know that if George hadn’t told me?’
Connie had no answer to that and crossing to Marcie she pressed the envelope into her hand. ‘I’ll talk to him again and if anything changes I’ll come and see you,’ she promised. ‘Oliver tells me that your sister lives at the back of Chevalier’s Funeral Parlour in town. Is that where you’ll be?’
Marcie nodded, her eyes flashing. ‘Yes … for now. But don’t think this is the end of it. I have no intention of watching George marry Belinda and living happily ever after leaving me to raise his baby. If he doesn’t do the right thing I shall personally make sure that the Lewises are aware of what’s going on. Do you think they’ll be so keen for their precious girl to marry him then?’
With that she turned on her heel and slammed out of the room leaving Connie feeling shaken. The girl had clearly got spirit and she had no doubt whatsoever that she would do what she was threatening, and what would Johnny say then? Only that morning, before he had left to visit one of his factories with George, he had told her, ‘Get rid of the damn girl. Shove a little money her way, that’s clearly what she’s after, her sort always is, then send her packing!’
Well, she had done what he had requested but she had a horrible feeling they hadn’t seen the last of Marcie Carson, not by a long shot.
Back up in her room, Marcie put on the cloak that Nessie had given her for Christmas and put her bonnet on, then lifting her small bundle she took one last glance about the room she had shared with Eliza and made her way down to the kitchen.
Most of the staff were busily going about their duties but Eliza and the cook were there and she tearfully said her goodbyes to them before making for the green baize door.
‘Eeh, where do yer think yer goin’?’ Eliza asked worriedly.
Marcie stared at her with her nose in the air. ‘I intend to leave by the front door,’ she informed her plainly and the girl watched in amazement as she let herself into the hallway. Halfway along it, Marcie paused to stare at two beautiful porcelain figures of a shepherd and shepherdess. They were two of the mistress’s favourites and were very rare and expensive. She knew because Eliza always panicked when she was asked to dust them in case she broke them. Marcie peered at the Meissen stamp on the bottom of them before untying her bundle and throwing them in among her clothes. They should fetch a pretty penny, she reckoned, should she ever need to sell them. Then looking neither left nor right she marched to the front door and let herself out, leaving the door swinging open behind her. She felt no guilt, only a determination that she would make George suffer for what he had done to her.
It was only when she reached the end of the drive and began to follow the road into town that she slowed her steps and allowed the tears to fall: angry heartbroken tears for the way she had been treated. George had led her to believe that they had a future together but she wasn’t done with him yet!
It was mid-morning by the time she turned into Abbey Street. Her stomach was rumbling ominously and she felt sick, but she’d been feeling sick most mornings of late. Through the funeral shop window she could see Nessie in deep discussion with a woman who was clad from head to toe in black. Someone recently bereaved, she supposed, organising the deceased’s funeral.
‘Why, this is a nice surprise,’ Nessie said a little later as she entered the living quarters where Marcie was patiently waiting for her. ‘Come into town to do some shopping have …’ Her voice trailed away as she saw that Marcie was dressed in her old clothes with a bundle lying at her feet.
‘Not exactly.’ Marcie squirmed and hurriedly took another gulp of the tea she had just made. ‘The thing is … I walked out.’
‘You walked out!’ Nessie looked incredulous. ‘But I thought you were happy working there?’
‘How can anyone be happy washing up after people and peeling vegetables all day?’ Marcie spat. ‘But that wasn’t why I left.’ She kept her head down then, avoiding her sister’s eyes as she went on. ‘The thing is … someone there, one of the men was … you know? Making it difficult for me.’
Nessie frowned. Something didn’t quite ring true; Marcie was well able to stick up for herself.
‘What do you mean … making things difficult?’
‘Just that … lying in wait for me an’ tryin’ to take advantage.’
‘So why didn’t you speak to the mistress about it? From what I’ve heard Connie Dorsey is a very reasonable woman.’
‘Not when the chap I’m on about is her son!’ Marcie answered and Nessie was shocked. Surely she couldn’t mean Oliver.
‘Which one?’ her voice came out as a squeak.
‘George, the youngest.’
Nessie felt relief sweep through her and realised in that instant that she was becoming too fond of Oliver, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. For the moment, she must concentrate on Marcie. ‘So what do you intend to do?’
Marcie looked at her sheepishly. ‘I, er … I was hopin’ you’d let me stay here for a while. Just till I find meself a new job, o’ course.’
Nessie frowned. ‘But you do realise that it’s not up to me? I only work for Andre. I shall have to ask him if he’ll allow it.’
Marcie snorted. ‘Of course, he’ll allow it,’ she scoffed. ‘You’ve got him eatin’ out o’ the palm o’ your hand. Anyone can see that.’
If only she knew the truth, Nessie thought, but aloud she said, ‘I’ll have a word with him just as soon as he gets back.’ She then turned and went back to what she had been doing with a sick feeling in her gut. Everything had been going so well. Trust Marcie to spoil things. Still, she was her sister at the end of the day, so she would do her best for her just as she always had.