In her bath, neck deep in warm water, Lou finally had the time to stop and think. She pressed her big toe to the tap. It was time to formulate a plan for what to do next.
In putting pen to paper, Elliot had provided tangible evidence of George’s gambling activities and debts, including the lies he had told the loan sharks in Northampton. There had to be a crime in there somewhere – securing money by false pretences, forging documents about a fictitious company. In many ways, it was better than the accusation that George was involved in Riley’s death. That sounded awful, but it was true. If she accused him, it would be her word against his. Whereas Elliot’s statement was real proof, and there was a willing witness to back it up. But now that she had the evidence at her fingertips, what should she do with it? She could present it to Lord Caxton. But what would happen then? Would he throw his son on the mercy of the loan sharks?
Lou took up a sponge, heavy with water, and held it over her head. Squeezing it, she allowed the warm water to run down her face. What if the revelation of George’s debts did Charlotte more harm than good? It was entirely possible that in a bid to see his son settled, Lord Caxton might take a pitchfork and force George and Charlotte up the aisle.
And what of Elizabeth Goodwill? She had burst in on that poor woman, frightening her half to death, and for what? She couldn’t tell Mrs Hart that her old friend missed her; Mrs Hart had been very specific in her instruction that Lou was not to reveal any details about her own time. At least her promise to Elizabeth had been a half promise, unlike her promise to Emma. That had been a full-blown promise to help her marry. Yet, she had lied to Emma about Tom’s feelings.
Tom. In response to his name, a charge ran through Lou’s body.
She balled her hands into fists and brought them crashing down into the water. ‘You shouldn’t have brought me here,’ she said to the marbled walls. ‘I can’t help anyone. I don’t know what to do. I’m going to muck it up.’
The water had cooled. She shivered and pulled her knees to her chest. The pipes in the walls began to gurgle. She watched as the hot tap slowly turned and water gushed out, warming her from the feet up. First, the voices outside, and now, the tap turning in response to her thoughts. Nothing about Hill House could surprise her anymore.
The prospect of being primped for a party was as appealing as being thrown into sackcloth and ashes and paraded through a street lined by a baying mob. Even so, when Sally arrived, Lou sat obediently at the dressing table.
‘Are you happy in your work?’ Lou asked. It was an attempt to direct her thoughts to something – anything – other than her non-existent “plan.”
Sally pushed a pin into her hair, securing a coil in place. ‘Happy? I can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought. I suppose I am. At any rate, I’d much rather be working than sitting idle at home every day. Not that I’d get much chance of that with Albert under my feet.’
Lou smiled. It was impossible not to smile whenever she thought of those blonde curls and that button nose. ‘But if you could have any job – any job in the whole world – what would it be?’
She watched Sally in the mirror. Sally pinched another strand of hair and held it out in a straight line, the tip of her tongue poking from between her lips as she twisted the strand and gave the question serious thought. ‘I suppose I’d like to do this all of the time. Doing hair, being around nice clothes, putting powder and rouge on ladies’ faces, sewing on the odd loose button or stitching up a hem. Now that would suit me down to the ground.’ She laughed. ‘But I might as well wish to fly to the moon as to become a lady’s maid. It’ll be back to cleaning windows and scrubbing the hall floor for me when you go home. A housemaid is what I am and a housemaid is what I’m likely to stay.’
A light bulb flashed on in Lou’s mind. Perhaps she shouldn’t. Oh, what the hell. ‘Sally, I’d like you to go to town on me tonight.’
‘Go to what?’ Sally asked, her expression a blank.
‘Push the boat out, you know, make a meal of me. Show everybody at the party your genius in transforming a sow’s ear into a silk purse. You never know who might be there and be in need of a new lady’s maid.’
‘Oh, Miss,’ Sally chuckled. ‘The things you say. In any case, it’s a pleasure to get you ready for any evening. You’re so obliging. And you’re naturally very pretty. You don’t need half the make-up that some ladies do.’
‘Stop it,’ Lou laughed. ‘You’ll have me blushing. And I mean it. Tonight, I am in your hands entirely. Do with me what you will.’
Sally stood back, assessing Lou’s reflection like a florist sizing up a mound of freshly cut buds. A smile spread across her face. ‘Very well, I will.’
Sally had Lou turn away from the mirror so she couldn’t see the work in progress. With much teasing and fussing, she finished Lou’s hair before setting about her make up. It involved so much powder, rouge and kohl, that Lou began to wonder whether this had been such a good idea after all and whether, when she next looked in the mirror, she might see Coco the Clown staring back.
Following the makeup, Sally dressed Lou. She payed particular attention to tying the laces of the corset as tight as she could; so tight that Lou had to hold on to the bedframe to allow Sally to dig her knee into her back to get purchase.
After much pulling and preening, Sally decided that Lou was ready. As she secured the clasp of a necklace around Lou’s neck, there was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ Lou called.
The door opened, and Charlotte rushed in. She came to a dramatic stop. ‘Oh, Louisa!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just look at you.’
Lou performed a twirl. ‘Am I presentable?’
‘Presentable! You look like a princess. Doesn’t Miss Arnold look like a princess, Sally?’
‘She certainly does, Miss Charlotte.’
Lou turned to look at her reflection to see what all the fuss was about. A breath caught in her chest. She touched her hair, which was pulled back from her face, a tendril curling at each temple. Her complexion was clean and fresh with a tasteful hint of colour on her eyes and cheeks. And the dress … oh, the dress! The bodice sat high up on her waist and a round neckline dropped to her cleavage. A string of pearls sat in the dip where her collarbones met. She twisted from side to side, watching the silk of the darkest, midnight blue flow like water, circling her hips and legs. ‘It’s a miracle. I look …’
‘Beautiful!’ Charlotte said. ‘Sally, I insist that you help me dress for Christmas lunch tomorrow too. I had no idea you had such skills. Where have you been hiding them all this time?’
Sally blushed, and Lou smiled. Perhaps her meddling didn’t always have to end in complete failure.
After helping Lou pull on her long evening gloves, Sally took her leave. The instant she left, Charlotte dragged Lou to the window seat, reminding her of the promise she had made to watch the arrival of the guests together. They sat half facing each other, their bodies twisted to look out of the window.
The snowstorm had subsided, leaving behind a velvet black sky, the stars speckles of white. Headlights of cars snaking up the drive shone on the snow, and the coloured lanterns glowed like fairy lights. William and the second footman, dressed in livery of impeccable blue and gold, stepped from beneath the portico at regular intervals to hold open car doors for men in tails and women draped in furs. Charlotte knew each of the guests by name.
‘Isn’t it splendid?’ she said, pressing her nose to the window, her breath clouding the glass.
Lou studied an old woman decorated with feathers and dripping in so many jewels that they seemed to be weighing her down. ‘I’ve never seen a show quite liked it.’
‘Mama would be pleased to hear you say so. Oh look!’ Charlotte rubbed the condensation from the window and pointed to a family just arrived. ‘It’s Melinda Forbes! Her father is a magistrate. We used to play together when we were small. How grown up she looks tonight. I do believe she is wearing her grandmother’s tiara!’ In an instant, Charlotte’s giddy mood evaporated. She slumped back, folding her arms across her chest.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lou asked.
‘Nothing,’ Charlotte sighed. But in the same breath, she added, ‘I sometimes think my family will never allow me to grow up.’
Lou looked at Charlotte’s face. She was so young and so beautiful, with her whole life to look forward to. Unless George Caxton had his way. Tread carefully, Lou. Don’t scare her. ‘Charlotte, do you really want to go to university? I mean, really.’
‘More than anything. But it’s hopeless, isn’t it, when my family are so against it. Except for Aunt Leonora, of course.’
‘You do know I would do anything to help your cause, don’t you?’
Charlotte smiled. It wasn’t the usual smile that lit her whole face, but a resigned, sad sort of smile. ‘Thank you, Louisa. But I’m afraid that my father will never be convinced. Oh, blast it.’ Her hands dropped to her lap. ‘Why can’t they see I’m no longer the little girl who used to sit up here and watch the guests arrive as I was too young to go down to the party? If I try to join in conversations about politics or suffrage, they look at me as though it’s a passing fancy. But why shouldn’t I do something useful with my life? I think I’d make a jolly good doctor or solicitor or teacher. My brain works just as well as any man’s, doesn’t it? Not that you would know that, if you spoke to my mother. If she has her way, by this time next year, I shall be married off to some starchy military man or a boring prig of a country oaf who will have me tied to his dusty old house, producing a whole herd of babies, like a heifer. If that happens, I shall die, I know I shall.’
An icy blast travelled down Lou’s spine. ‘Don’t you ever stop fighting, Charlotte. Keep shouting. Make them hear you.’
‘But I’m just so tired of it all, Louisa. When do you get to the point of saying, that’s it, enough, I give in?’
Lou took Charlotte by the shoulders. ‘Never! Not while there is breath in your body.’
Charlotte’s face broke into a broad grin. ‘Oh, Louisa, you are so different to anybody I’ve ever known. When I’m with you, I believe that my dreams really could come true.’
‘Good. Because they can. They will. You just have to believe in yourself.’
Charlotte flung her arms around Lou’s neck. ‘I know this will sound perfectly silly since you’ve been here less than a week. But, truly, I love you as though you were my own sister.’ She kissed Lou on the cheek.
‘If I ever had a sister, I’d want her to be exactly like you,’ Lou said. ‘Now, come on, let’s get you to the party.’
As they made their way down the corridor, Charlotte picked up her pace, dragging Lou with her.
Lou freed her hand. ‘You go ahead. I’ll catch up.’
‘If you insist, but don’t be long. The bubbles in the champagne will pop, and there’s nothing more upsetting than flat champagne.’
Charlotte ran towards the landing, the long sash of her pink dress trailing behind her. By contrast, Lou took her time, running her hand along the wooden banisters. She approached the landing and a bubble of voices and music floated up from the hall below. Down there, amongst friends and extended family, was every member of the Mandeville and Caxton clan. Lou gripped the banisters. As she backed away from the top of the stairs, the hidden door on the landing opened. A face appeared, looking furtively around.
‘Oh, m’lady,’ Mary said. ‘I was hoping to find you still up here.’ She beckoned and Lou was only too happy to join her behind the door in the cramped space midway up the twisting flight of stone steps. Mary leant over the handrail, looking first up, then down. ‘Monsieur Gotti will skin me alive if he realises I’m missing,’ she whispered. ‘But I had to come and tell you something right away.’
‘I don’t want you to get into trouble on my account.’
Mary pressed her finger to her lips. ‘Noise travels down these stairs, m’lady.’ She leant against the wall. Lou joined her, the wall cold against her bare arm. ‘You remember I told you about Bertha, the maid from Caxton Hall who’s sharing my room?’ Mary said quietly.
Lou nodded.
‘Well, last night, I asked if she knew anything about why Mr Caxton might not like the Mandevilles. She went quiet, all of a sudden like and said she knew nothing and then …’
Mary peered over the handrail again. ‘Then, this morning, when I was peeling potatoes, she asked me to come and help her with something in the larder. Only she didn’t want help, she was bursting to tell me something she did know after all. It seems Bertha’s uncle was the under butler at Caxton Hall when Mr Caxton was still a boy – still Master George – and there was an incident. Bertha’s uncle said that Miss Emma had a kitten that she adored, but which Master George didn’t care for. When he thought nobody was watching, he’d poke it with a stick and pull its whiskers. This incident happened when Captain Mandeville – Master Thomas, as he was then – was staying at Caxton Hall for a few days on his holiday from school. Apparently, Master George used to follow Master Thomas everywhere, like a shadow, showing off. Always desperate to impress his older cousin, he was.’
Mary moved in closer and lowered her voice still further. ‘When the kitten went missing, Miss Emma cried and cried. Lord Caxton had the servants hunt the house and grounds for it. But they couldn’t find hide nor hair of the poor thing. Then, a few days later, Master George took Master Thomas down to the lake. He pulled out a sack weighed down by stones and what do you think was inside?’
She paused, her voice taking on a tone of horror. ‘It was Miss Emma’s kitten! It had scratched Master George, and he was so angry that he drowned the poor thing. Bertha’s uncle said that Master George showed it off to Master Thomas, thinking he’d be impressed. Only, he wasn’t. Like any right-minded person would, Master Thomas went directly to his uncle and told him what Master George had done. Lord Caxton was furious. He took his riding crop to Master George and told him that he was ashamed to call him his son. He said if Master George dared breathe a word of how that kitten died to anybody, especially Miss Emma, he would take him out on to the lawn and flog him for the entire household to witness. Soon after that, Lord Caxton sent Master George away to a very strict school in Ireland. So, you see, Mr Caxton has always blamed Captain Mandeville for souring him in his father’s eyes.’
Mary looked at Lou, her wide eyes full of anticipation. Lou didn’t say a word.
‘Did I do wrong in coming to tell you this, m’lady? Mr Caxton is my better, after all –’
‘No, Mary!’ Lou snapped. ‘That man is not your equal, never mind your better. You did absolutely the right thing in coming to tell me. Don’t ever think you didn’t.’
‘I’m so glad. I wanted it to be my way of showing how much my family appreciates what you’ve done for us. Father got a good price for all of those lovely things, and the medicine has made Mother much better.’
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ Lou said. ‘I’m happy for your family. Go on, you’d better go back to the kitchen before you’re missed.’
Mary curtseyed. ‘Thank you, m’lady. And Merry Christmas to you.’