Her Sister's Gift Read online

  Isa curtsied. “Thank you, Mrs Williams.” She left the room and shut the door behind her. Her legs felt like jelly after all the stress she had been under in the short space of time: accused of breaking an expensive ornament, forced to defend herself and then called to the housekeeper’s room, only to be told she was reprieved. Mrs Williams and Mrs Roberts were “people of quality”, as her mother had often called such folk. You could trust them, they were honest, respectable and genuine. They may be tough on you but they were straight. And she had earned their respect. The thought stiffened her spine and strengthened her legs and she re-entered the kitchen with her head held high, her footstep firm.

  “Well, Scotty. Give ye yer books, did she?” The seamstress made no attempt to hide the sneer in her voice as she gathered up linen for mending.

  “Indeed not, Miss Higgins,” Isa replied coldly. “Mrs Williams knows I am not guilty of causing any damage and that the culprit is still to be found. Excuse me. I have work to do.” She glided past her to the back stairs to attend to laying the table for luncheon.

  Watching her cross the room, Harry felt glad she was still here. He had not relished the thought of her disappearing out of his life so soon.

  Gathered around the kitchen table in the evening ready for their supper, Isa realised Harry and Polly Higgins had made the others aware of the situation. She could palpably feel the enmity towards her from Sally and Elsie who clearly believed she was guilty and that somehow she had wrapped “dragonface” Williams around her finger. Mrs Roberts dished out plates of mutton stew and they were to help themselves to potatoes and turnip out of bowls on the table. Isa could not reach a bowl of potatoes and no one made to pass one to her so she was going to make do with the turnip rather than have to make a request of anyone. She got on with her meal, quietly hugging to herself the knowledge of Mrs Williams’ respect for her and what she had said about having nothing to fear when you speak the truth. The others would eventually see this. She just had to “bide her time” as her father would say. Then Harry passed her a bowl of potatoes. She looked up at him in surprise and mouthed a silent thank you.

  The butler, who had been with Lord Tolquhoun on his estate in Scotland, was present for the first time since Isa’s arrival and introduced himself, breaking the silence. “Isa, I am Mr Westfield, butler to Lord and Lady Tolquhoun. Delighted you have joined us here and sorry I was not here earlier to welcome you. I am sure Mrs Roberts and Mrs Williams have settled you in. I believe you are from Mrs Roberts’ part of the country?” He was giving her an opportunity to speak. Well, she would not hesitate. There was no need to hide or apologise for her birthplace.

  “Yes, sir, they have indeed welcomed me. I come from a town called Falkirk between Glasgow and Edinburgh. This is my first time in London.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled to her at the far end of the table from where he and Mrs Williams sat as the chief authority figures on the staff, with Mrs Roberts sitting nearby on their right. There was a very definite hierarchy in the seating arrangements below stairs and Isa, as the new girl, was at the bottom of the heap.

  “And do you have family there, Isa?” Mr Westfield continued.

  Isa was not ready to talk about this in much detail in front of all the others, but she could hardly ignore the butler’s question. “Yes, sir, I have two sisters who at present live in Stirling and several aunts and uncles in Falkirk itself.”

  “Your parents?” he enquired with a quizzical raise of his eyebrows.

  Isa paused, continuing to look at her plate. “My mother died four years ago and my father has gone to the war, sir.”

  There was a hush in the room. Mr Westfield coughed slightly to hide his embarrassment at having put this young girl on the spot in front of everyone. “Well, we are glad to have you in the household, Isa.” A change in conversation was needed. He turned to Mrs Roberts to compliment her on the stew.

  “Thank you, Mr Westfield. I’m sure it would have been better if it had been a nicer cut of lamb, but mutton was all we could get today. Thank goodness for the carrots and onions from the garden and Fred’s herbs. Wouldn’t have much flavour otherwise.” And so the conversation around the table turned to the usual hubbub, giving Isa the chance to merge into the background of things.

  When she was finally in her room that night she could not believe the day she had had. Often at this time she would write letters to her sisters or her grandmother, but tonight she was in too much turmoil. She knelt at the side of her bed, looking up to the window in the roof that was angled so that no buildings or streets were seen, only a tiny patch of sky. She wanted to pray, but she could not put into words how she was feeling, so she just let it all flow through her: her anxiety about being accused of damaging the ornament, the rage and pride that had led to her self-defence, the relief of being believed and respected, the sneering of the staff and the pain of revealing her situation to these strangers. She laid her head on the quilted bedspread and wept. As her sorrow seeped from her, she became aware of a calming presence around her, formless yet knowing. It felt as though her sorrow had been shared. The sobbing ceased. She felt drained but cleansed, freed of the emotions of the day and more at peace. Slowly, her limbs heavy and clumsy, she undressed and fell exhausted into bed, where she slept deeply until morning.

  8

  Mrs Williams was sitting in her pantry the next day after the evening meal when there was a gentle knock on her door. “Come in,” she said crisply. As the untidy head of Sally appeared round the door edge she added, “What can I do for you, Sally?”

  The girl curtsied a little, respectful of the room’s occupant, who so often had scolded her for this or that not done just exactly how she wished.

  “Mrs Williams, I am sorry to disturb you but I ’ave somefing to tell you.”

  She hesitated, not sure she could find the right words. “It’s about that h’ornament.”

  Ah, thought Mrs Williams. The confession she was looking for at last. “Do go on, Sally.”

  “Well. I was doing the drawing room today and when I comes over to the cabinet to dust the top. I looked inside the cabinet and the h’ornament is back in its place as right as ninepence, ma’am. I had to look for ages cos I couldn’t believe me eyes, bu’ it is there, right next to the shepherd it matches.”

  The housekeeper stared at the girl in utter disbelief. “Sally, if as you say the shepherdess figurine is back undamaged in the china cabinet in the drawing room,” and she paused, “just what do you think this is?” She took from the drawer in her bureau the black cloth she had brought that day to the kitchen and there, nestling in its folds, lay the shepherdess figure, still in its broken state.

  “Mrs Williams,” whispered the girl, “you must believe me. It’s back upstairs. I don’t know what that fing is bu’ it’s not Lady Tolquhoun’s shepherdess.”

  Mrs Williams could not understand the girl’s persistence, but she knew what they needed to do now. “Come on, girl. Show me.”

  In the drawing room, Sally led the way across to the window and to the china cabinet and there, clearly displayed in its usual place beside the shepherd boy, stood the delicate shepherdess with her crook, ruffled pink skirts and bonnet, a tiny lamb curled at her feet. At first relief flooded Mrs Williams, as she realised there would be no need now to tell Lady Tolquhoun one of her favourite porcelain pieces had been broken, nor to doubt her faith in Isa’s innocence. However, what did it all mean? What was this broken ornament she held in her hand? Why had it been left to look as if someone had broken it? Who had a devious mind to think up such a prank and to endanger others’ employment as a result? These thoughts were as uncomfortable as her original ones regarding breaking the news of the damage to Her Ladyship.

  “Thank you, Sally, for noticing this. You have saved a lot of trouble calling on the wrong doors. Well done for being so observant. Not a word of this to anyone. I’ll deal with it in the morning. That will be all.”

  “Yes, Mrs Williams. Thank you, Mrs Williams.” Sa
lly returned to the kitchen and Mrs Williams stood holding the cloth that was now the evidence in a completely different story she needed to fathom out.

  It was clear the culprit had to be someone able to buy the replica, intending to break it and then plant it where it could be found, where indeed she herself had found it under the folds of the curtain hems, which trailed the ground at the windows. The more she thought the more she realised there really was only one possible culprit.

  *

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs Williams?”

  “Yes, Harry. Do come in. We need to have a chat. I believe you used to live near the market. Indeed you have some relatives who trade there.”

  “That’s right, ma’am.”

  “In particular you have a cousin who runs a stall selling second-hand bric-a-brac.”

  “Right again,” he said.

  “Well, Harry, I wondered if you could have him value this for me,” and she opened out the black cloth on the side table near her chair to reveal the china shepherdess which she had glued together. Mrs Williams could see a faint red blush creeping over Harry’s normally pale skin. “I’m afraid she did have a little accident recently and you can see some hairline cracks, but nonetheless I think she might still be valuable. In fact it is quite possible your cousin may even recognise her.”

  Harry sighed, “All right, Mrs Williams. Game’s up. Yer on to me, right enough. I just fought it would be a bit of a lark, like. I fought Sal or Isa would find it and she’d just get teased a bit below stairs and then I’d come clean. I never wanted to cause all this fuss.” He tried an apologetic smile, hoping to charm his way out of this.

  The housekeeper fixed him with her fiercest stare. “Harold Jamieson, how dare you trifle with other people’s employment. You nearly cost a young girl her job and livelihood, just for a lark? I think not. I will be informing Her Ladyship about this matter. That will be all.”

  When the door had shut, Mrs Williams sank back into her chair. How was she going to sort this out?

  *

  The cook and housekeeper to the Tolquhouns had both held their posts for over two decades. They knew and respected each other and worked together on most staff matters, often sounding each other out before taking things to Mr Westfield. Regarding Isa, they were agreed that changes needed to be made. Mrs Roberts called Isa into her parlour at the end of dinner next day. She looked at the girl and pondered for a bit. “How much cooking have you done, Isa?”

  “I’ve been cooking for my family since my mother died and I was trained in cookery at the college as well.”

  “I knew fine ye were no novice the way ye kent whaur the cool pantry would be and could identify the buttermilk.”

  “My grandparents have a dairy farm in Tullibody so we’re used to all that.”

  “Well, I’m goin’ tae ask that you help me in the kitchen and that useless Elsie can ging up the stairs wi’ her polishin’ cloth, for she hasnae a clue. I’ve tae tell her a’thin’ twice and even then she gets in a muddle. Dae ye think ye could cope?”

  It was all agreed while Isa waited in Mrs Roberts’ pantry. Both older women felt Isa had had a rough deal from the other staff and realised keeping her in the kitchen would provide a safer environment and one where she could fully use her skills. After all, most girls could lay a table and polish floors, but not all could learn to make a soufflé or roast beef to perfection. They would see how Isa did under Mrs Roberts’ tutelage. At least it would give her a bit of respite from the vindictiveness of the servants.

  *

  Lady Tolquhoun prided herself on keeping good staff, looking after them and taking an interest in their well-being. She saw it as part of her duty as a member of the wealthier classes, just as she considered it important to tend to the poor. Her husband was also mindful of the plight of others through his work in the House of Lords. As a Liberal peer he was instrumental in getting Lloyd George’s legislation passed, which could lead to improvements in the lives of the country’s poorest citizens: bills connected with factory reform, minimum wages, tax allowances for children to help families on low incomes and pensions for those over seventy.

  When Rowena Williams appeared at Lady Tolquhoun’s study and asked if she could have five minutes of her time on a staffing matter, she happily laid aside her correspondence and beckoned Mrs Williams to be seated.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs Williams?”

  “Well, Your Ladyship. I thought we had found a broken porcelain ornament knocked over by one of the domestic staff, but it turns out all the ornaments are in fact safe and in their rightful places.”

  “I don’t understand. There is still some problem?”

  “Indeed. The problem is not careless damage but rather deliberate framing of a member of staff. The broken ornament I found was deliberately purchased and broken to implicate the new girl from Scotland who’s been with us nearly a month now. I’m afraid to say one of our staff thought it would be a lark to frame her.”

  “So who is the culprit, Mrs Williams?”

  “It’s Harry Jamieson, the chauffeur, Your Ladyship.”

  There was a silence. Mrs Williams knew that Harry was a very capable driver who had worked for the Tolquhouns for three years now. It may well be that Her Ladyship would not like having to take action on this. She had had to tell her. What he had done could have tarnished the young girl’s reputation and even cost her this job. It would have been difficult for her to find another position with neglectful damage written as the reason for dismissal on her reference. That was definitely a step too far in her book. It was up to Her Ladyship now. She had said her piece.

  “I have here the broken ornament that he planted, Your Ladyship. You can see it looks at first glance like the shepherdess in the drawing room cabinet, but it is in fact a cheap replica he got from his cousin’s market stall.”

  Lady Tolquhoun sighed. “Leave that with me, Mrs Williams. How is the new girl taking all this?”

  “She has courage and stood up for herself with dignity, Your Ladyship. I think she has great backbone. Mrs Roberts and myself decided she’d be better working in the kitchen, where we can keep an eye on her. The others have given her a bit of a hard time.” Here she paused, not sure how much to tell her employer. However, knowing the Tolquhouns to be fair-minded, she continued, “I’m not sure if you were aware, Your Ladyship, that Miss Dick lost her mother four years ago and her father has gone to the war. She’s virtually an orphan and her young sisters have been put in a children’s home in Stirling up in Scotland.”

  Lady Tolquhoun looked her housekeeper in the eye. “Poor girl. I think I had better introduce myself. Do ask her to come and see me when you return to the kitchen. Perhaps you could escort her up, Mrs Williams. My husband will see Harry later. No word to him about this, if you don’t mind, thank you.”

  “Certainly, Your Ladyship.” Mrs Williams closed the door behind her and headed off to the kitchen to fetch Isa.

  When Isa was told the news she was shaking. She realised that Harry Jamieson was a longer-serving member of staff and that she was just the newcomer. Despite Mrs Williams’ assurances that she had got to the bottom of everything and that nothing had been broken after all, Isa was trembling when she arrived at the door to Lady Tolquhoun’s study on the first floor. She had never been here before and the whole summons had about it a terrifying mystique. Still she knew she had done nothing wrong and therefore had nothing to be ashamed about and nothing to hide. She must hold her head high and trust Mrs Williams’ interpretation of events. She knocked gently on the door.

  “Come in,” she heard, and turned the handle. “Ah, you must be Isa.” Lady Tolquhoun greeted her smiling. “I have heard very good reports of you from Mrs Williams which makes me so sorry to hear about this horrid prank of Harry’s. My husband and I shall be dealing with that matter later. I believe you came down from Scotland.”

  “Yes, Your Ladyship.” Isa curtsied.

  “And apart from this little trial are you sett
ling in?”

  Isa in fact loved the housework and even more so the work in the kitchen. She felt Mrs Williams and Mrs Roberts were true allies and though the others were hard going she felt she was beginning to earn their respect, so it was quite truthfully that she answered, “Yes, thank you, Your Ladyship. Mrs Williams and Mrs Roberts especially have been very kind. I am enjoying the work.”

  “Good. Now, when you are with us so far from home and with your father away in the war, I do hope you will look upon Lord Tolquhoun and myself as your protectors. If there is anything we can help you with, you must not hesitate to ask.”

  Isa could hardly believe her ears. Lord and Lady Tolquhoun offering to look out for Isa Dick from Falkirk. What would her father say about that, or her neighbours back on Sunnyside in Camelon? She was lost for words at first, then remembered her manners. “Thank you, Your Ladyship. That is most kind of Your Ladyship and much appreciated.”

  Lady Tolquhoun was amazed at the girl’s bearing. Despite her youth and her working-class background, someone somewhere had taught her carefully. Most of the London staff would do well to take a leaf out of her book. This girl was definitely worth holding on to.

  “Well, Isa, if there’s nothing else? I had best let you get back. It has been nice to meet you and I do hope you will be very happy here.”

  Isa curtsied again. “Thank you, Your Ladyship.” In somewhat of a daze she left the room quietly, shutting the door behind her.

  The following morning, when the staff breakfast was finished, Harry came over to her.

  “Excuse me, Miss Dick. Migh’ I ’ave a word?”

  Isa was embarrassed at this public approach in front of the staff, but she caught Mrs Roberts nodding across to her and realised it must have been permitted by her.