The Lady's Maid (38 page)

‘So that is how you did it.’

‘You are as much of a Damerell as if my lady had given birth to you. I see no difference.’

‘You may not, but others will. Don’t you realise that it makes me a bastard? I am a nobody now, and I’ll be shunned by polite society.’

‘Only if they find out.’ Hickson’s eyes narrowed and she moved a step closer. ‘Take my advice. Carry on with the pretence.’

‘How can I when the whole village knows and half the county too?’

‘Then you’d best get that wedding ring on your finger before your fiancé finds out. When you’re married, he’ll have to abide by his vows, no matter what.’

Josie shook her head. ‘It’s not that simple. Harry doesn’t really want me. I tricked him into proposing.’

‘I’d say he’s too much of a gentleman to back out now, so it’s up to you to make a choice. Marry a man who doesn’t love you, or declare a truce with Sir Joseph. After all, he is your father.’

‘I – I can’t. You don’t know what he’s like.’

‘Of course I do. Joseph Damerell is a lecherous old dog, and incest is an ugly word, but it happens in
more
homes than you would imagine. If you don’t want it to go on, you’ve got to stand up to him.’

With Hickson’s words ringing in her ears, Josie went to find the man who had fathered her. He was not in the dining room and Toop informed her that the master had only just rung for his shaving water. Without stopping to change out of her riding habit, she made her way to the bedchamber where she found Sir Joseph being shaved by his valet.

‘Leave us, Frith,’ Josie said curtly. ‘I wish to speak to Sir Joseph.’

At a sign from his master, Frith hurried from the room.

‘This is all very dramatic, my dear.’ Sir Joseph wiped shaving foam from his cheeks. ‘What is this all about?’

‘You and me,’ Josie said, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. ‘You are my father. The gypsy woman said so, and I’ve had it confirmed by someone who knows.’

‘I knew that the old bitch wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut.’

‘Don’t blame Hickson. I made her tell me.’

‘She’s just trying to make trouble. There is no substance in a story concocted by a lying old didicoi to extract money from our family.’

‘Farmer Coggins also confirmed her story, or at least part of it. He admitted that Kate was not his child. The Romany woman, Zolfina, said that Kate and I were born on the same day, in the same place. You knew that didn’t you?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘But you did seduce Zolfina’s daughter when she worked here as a servant.’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘All right, I can see you’ll give me no peace, until I confess. That part is probably true. I vaguely remember the girl, but it was many years ago. I’ve had more than a few romantic encounters since then, and probably fathered several more blots on my escutcheon. As I see it, Josie, none of this matters. I am master here now, and you couldn’t inherit the estate, even if you were my legal offspring, because you had the bad luck to be born female.’

‘That’s not the matter in question. Only last night you insinuated that I must pay for my board and keep by allowing you to take liberties with my person, whenever it takes your fancy.’

‘I would say that it’s an easier way of earning your bread than labouring in the fields, or washing clothes and whatever the servants do to make our lives pleasant and easy.’

‘You are a foul, disgusting man, and I hate you.’

‘No one can prove that I am your father, Josie. You could be any man’s by blow. In all likelihood we are not related at all.’

‘I would have the devil for a father rather than a pig like you.’

‘You have spirit, which makes you all the more of a challenge, my dear.’ Sir Joseph rose from his chair and came towards her with a lecherous gleam in his
eyes
. ‘Come and give me a kiss. I’m quite certain that you’ll grow to enjoy my attentions. They all do. I am an expert in the art of lovemaking. It will be our little secret. No one need ever know.’

With the flat of her hands on his chest, Josie pushed him away from her. ‘I would rather die.’

‘We’ll see,’ he said, chuckling. ‘You’ll change your mind.’

‘Never!’ Josie ran from the room, almost knocking Frith over in her haste. She knew then that he must have been eavesdropping and that soon this whole sorry tale would be the gossip of the servants’ hall. There was only one person who could help her now. She needed desperately to speak to her mother.

She discovered her sitting up in bed sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Hickson was standing at the foot of the bed, hands folded meekly in front of her but with a martial gleam in her eyes.

Josie paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. She might have guessed that Hickson would run straight to her mistress, no doubt justifying her part in revealing her ladyship’s secret. Marguerite’s eyes were huge in her pale face as she stared anxiously at Josie.

‘I want to hear it from your lips,’ Josie said coldly. ‘I’ve heard it from an old Romany woman, then Farmer Coggins and finally Hickson. Are you my mother?’

Marguerite did not answer immediately. She placed the cup and saucer carefully on the table at her bedside, avoiding meeting Josie’s eyes. ‘I have always loved you, Josie,’ she said softly. ‘I loved you as much,
or
even more than a birth mother could love her child.’ She raised a pair of tortured blue eyes to Josie’s face. ‘It is a terrible thing for a woman to be barren. I suffered dreadfully for years, and then I had the chance to have a child. You can’t imagine what that meant to me.’

Josie remained unmoved. ‘Did you buy me, then? Did my real mother sell me to you?’

Tears trickled from Marguerite’s eyes. ‘Don’t speak to me in that tone, Josie. I don’t deserve that.’

Josie turned to Hickson. ‘Well, madam. You’ve been unusually silent. Did money change hands?’

Hickson glanced at her mistress and she bowed her head. ‘There were expenses.’

‘So, I was bought. Like any commodity, I had a price, even then. And now, if we are to stay in this house, I am to trade my favours for our board and lodging. Did you know that, Mama? Or should I call you, my lady?’

‘How can you be so cruel to me?’ Marguerite sobbed, wiping her eyes on the silk sheet. ‘Why do you make up these dreadful stories? Joseph would never do such a hateful thing. Hickson, my smelling salts. I feel faint.’

Hickson hurried to a side table and produced a vinaigrette from a tray filled with medicine bottles. She shot a resentful glance at Josie as she returned to the bedside. ‘See what you’ve done. You’re upsetting your mama.’

‘She is not my mother. The Dowager Lady Damerell has just admitted that.’ Josie pushed Hickson aside and leaned over the bed. ‘If it’s true that the Romany
woman
is my mother, then who was my father? Who am I?’

Marguerite shook her head, falling back against the pillows. ‘I never knew. Believe me, Josie. I didn’t know and I didn’t even care. For my part I loved you, and you were my little girl. Can’t we forget that this has happened, and go back to the way we were?’

Hickson held the vinaigrette under Marguerite’s nose. ‘You’re upsetting her, Miss Josie. Leave her now and continue this talk later on, when she is feeling stronger.’

‘No. This has gone too far. I can’t rest until I know the truth of my parentage, and I can’t live beneath the same roof as the man who might be my father, but who treats me like a whore.’ Josie looked down at the woman whom she had loved as her mother, and saw a pale-faced stranger staring back at her. ‘I’m sorry, but there is only one person left who can tell me who I really am.’

Marguerite struggled to sit up. ‘Don’t go like this, Josie.’

Shaking her head, Josie backed away from the bed. ‘I have to discover the truth. It sickens me to think that that lecherous old dog, Joseph Damerell, might turn out to be my father. Either way I won’t live under the same roof as him. I would sooner throw my lot in with the gypsies than see him every day and have him lusting after me like a slavering beast.’

Chapter Twenty-two

SMOTHERING A SIGH
, Kate picked up the canvas bag at her feet. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you, Farmer Cobb.’ It had started to rain and she could already feel the dampness seeping through her clothes.

‘I’m sorry too, Kate, but I have no need of a dairymaid or a girl to help in the house. I really can’t help you.’

Molly caught him by the sleeve as he was about to close the door on them. ‘Please, sir. I’m Sal’s friend. You wouldn’t like it if someone turned her away when she was in need, now would you?’

He frowned. ‘My Sal has a job up at the big house, and you know it. Why not try there, maidy? You’re both used to hard work if I know Robert Coggins.’

‘That’s right, Farmer Cobb,’ Kate said, unwilling to give in so easily. ‘You know my father well, and I daresay he has done you favours in the past. Couldn’t you find us some work on the farm, and give us a bed in one of your barns? I can dig potatoes or pull turnips. I’m not afraid of hard work.’

‘The things that gypsy woman said are common knowledge now, Kate. You know how quickly gossip spreads.’

‘Have you thought that it may not be true? You’ve
known
me since I was a little girl and I am still the same person.’

‘I’m not a hard man, and I hope that I’m a good Christian, but I can’t take you in. If Robert has sent you packing, then you’ll not find anyone round here eager to take you on. I know it’s difficult for you, but all I can suggest is that you try for work in another part of the county, where you are not known.’ Farmer Cobb went to shut the farmhouse door, but Kate put her foot over the sill.

‘Why? Why are you treating us like this? Neither me nor Moll has done anything wrong.’

He stared at her for a moment, as if pondering his reply. ‘You were found by the gypsies. You could be one of them for all I know, and you might bring a curse down on our heads if I take you in. When your kind curse a farm the cows stop yielding milk and the hens don’t lay; the crops fail and the livestock sicken. I can’t take that chance. Now take your foot from my doorstep and leave me be.’

Kate removed her foot just in time as the door slammed in her face. Molly began to whimper. ‘What’s to become of us, Kate?’

‘We’ll try Farmer Samways. He’s a sensible man. I’m sure he won’t worry about silly superstitions.’ Kate gave her a hug. ‘Come on, Moll. It’s a fair old walk, but at least it’s not raining.’

It was exactly the same story at the next farm, and the next. By late afternoon Kate was footsore and exhausted. Molly was close to collapse, and it had begun to rain again. They were both soaked to
the
skin and bedraggled, and the hems of their skirts were thick with mud. Kate fingered the leather pouch in her skirt pocket. She had counted out the coins when they had stopped to eat their lunch of bread and cheese at midday in the shelter of a gnarled oak. If she was very careful, there was enough money to feed and lodge them for a week. Molly had begun to cough, and Kate knew that if she did not get her out of her wet clothes and into a warm bed, Molly’s weak chest would lay her low for the rest of the winter. They were on the outskirts of Dorchester by this time and it would soon be dark. She hitched Molly’s arm around her shoulders. ‘We’ll spend the night at the Antelope Inn. Things will look better when we’re warm and dry and have a hot meal inside us.’

‘C-can we afford it, Kate?’ Molly murmured through chattering teeth.

‘Of course we can,’ Kate lied. ‘I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. If we hurry we can make it before dark.’

They had just reached the bridge over the River Frome, where Kate had once stopped to rest on a bright autumn day, although that seemed like years ago rather than a few short months, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind them, made her glance over her shoulder. Two men had appeared seemingly from nowhere and they were advancing on them in a purposeful way which did not bode well. Although it was too dark to see their faces clearly, she sensed danger, and the smell of their unwashed bodies was sickening. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, pushing Molly behind her.

‘Give us your purse and we’ll not harm you.’ The taller of the two men spoke with an accent that Kate recognised instantly. These were not simple country folk; they were villains who were far from their native East End, and probably on the run from the police.

‘We have no money,’ Kate said, praying silently that they would believe her.

‘She’s lying.’ The other man grabbed her by the arms. ‘Search her pockets.’

Molly lashed out at him with her hands and feet, but the bigger of the two men threw her to the ground, where she lay winded and gasping for breath. He turned his attention to Kate, who was being held in a vice-like grip, and he slid his hand beneath her shawl, groping her breasts with a grin on his face.

‘Give over, cully. We ain’t got all night,’ his accomplice muttered, tightening his hold on Kate.

She kicked her attacker on the shin and with a growl of pain he punched her in the face. The blow stunned her momentarily and she felt blood trickling from her nose into her mouth. He uttered a cry of triumph as he found what he was looking for and ripped the pouch from her pocket. ‘Liar,’ he said, grabbing her by the hair. ‘I’ll have to teach you a lesson, girl.’

‘There’s no time for that,’ the other man said, releasing Kate with a shove that sent her sprawling onto the grassy verge. ‘There’s someone coming. Scarper, mate.’

Kate lay for a moment, dazed and in pain. She could hear the sound of horse’s hooves and the rumble of cartwheels. She raised herself and crawled over to
where
Molly was lying on her side, clutching her stomach and gasping for breath. ‘Are you all right, Molly?’

‘I – I think so.’

The horse-drawn vehicle was almost upon them and Kate leapt up, waving her arms. The beam of light from the carriage lamps dazzled her, but the driver had seen them, and a familiar voice called out, ‘Kate, is that you?’

Shielding her eyes with her hand, she saw that it was Squire Westwood, and sitting beside him was the achingly familiar figure of her father.