When Lady Harris and the children’s mother both succumbed to nausea later that morning the doctor was called.
‘Food poisoning.’ The diagnosis was immediate, and as he straightened from examining Lady Harris, the doctor said, with a smile at Sarah, ‘Please tell me they ate out somewhere yesterday, or Hilda will have my guts for garters.’
‘Yes, they did.’
She smiled back as Lady Harris weakly expostulated from the bed, ‘I can still speak for myself, Charles, I’m not dead yet.’
‘Not for a long time I hope, Geraldine.’ He winked at Sarah, his eyes twinkling, before turning back to his patient.
How was it, Sarah silently asked herself, that one man could smile and wink and you would know immediately there was nothing more behind his friendliness than a desire to make you feel comfortable and included, and another, with just one glance, could make your flesh creep? And Sir Geoffrey made her flesh creep, oh, he did, and it was that more than anything else that made her determined to talk to the young fresh-faced maid who had her whole life in front of her.
Unfortunately, with four invalids in the house - Sir Geoffrey not having partaken of the salmon starter the day before which seemed to have caused all the trouble - the opportunity to talk to Peggy didn’t arise, the staff being run off their feet as the patients got worse before they got better. However, by late evening all four were quietly sleeping, exhausted by the unpleasant manifestations of the virulent bug, and as Sarah sat in a state of semi-stupor in the kitchen, having sent Hilda and Peggy, both asleep on their feet, off to bed some minutes before, she found her mind wouldn’t let her body - tired as it was - rest quietly.
She would have to talk to Peggy before she went to sleep. She nodded to herself in the quiet of the night. She wouldn’t get a wink of sleep otherwise, not with this uneasy feeling gripping her so strongly. It was clear that Peggy had been hopelessly dazzled by a title and the allure of a few affectionate, and no doubt well used trite phrases, because she was sure that’s all it was. The little maid was nothing more than a young nubile body to the man who would use her to service him and then discard her without another thought. Sarah shook her head at the prospect, then rose wearily from the chair. Peggy wouldn’t appreciate being told the truth. What fifteen-year-old would? Although how any female could let that man touch her of her own free will . . . Her lips drew back from her teeth at the thought. She’d rather die, she would really.
After leaving the kitchen she checked all the doors and windows on the ground floor, her last job each night, before switching off the lights and slowly ascending the staircase to the upper floor. She wasn’t looking forward to the coming confrontation. From Peggy’s attitude that morning it was clear the girl was flirting with danger, and just as clearly didn’t want to admit it. But apart from concern for Peggy herself, it was part of her job to control the other staff, be there one or twenty-one, and she couldn’t shirk her responsibilities.
She passed the second floor on which the family’s rooms were situated and on reaching the third floor paused, taking a deep breath before walking past her rooms to Peggy’s small bedroom, which was sandwiched between her quarters on one side and Hilda’s on the other.
The landing was lit by the weak glow of one low-watt bulb almost directly outside Peggy’s room, and as she raised her hand to knock she paused again, her stomach churning, before a small voice inside her mind that was all Maggie said, ‘Come on, lass, what are you waitin’ for? You don’t earn your wage with just the arty-farty side of things, so get on with it,’ and brought her clenched knuckles lightly against the wood. When there was no answer she waited for a few moments before knocking again, more sharply this time, only to stand irresolutely for a full minute more.
Was Peggy asleep already? It was possible, she supposed; the day had been a long one. But then again the next one might be just as long with the family still unwell, and she needed to talk to her
now
. The decision made, she knocked once more before turning the handle of the door slowly, stepping into the room quietly only to find it quite empty. The possibility of Peggy having gone to talk to Hilda flashed into her mind, only to be dismissed as quickly, Hilda’s muted snores from the adjoining room proving the elderly cook was dead to the world.
Then where was she? Sarah’s eyes screwed up as another reason for Peggy’s absence dawned, and she leant against the closed door in the darkness of the room, her hand coming across her mouth at the thought. She wouldn’t. She
wouldn’t
. Not here, in the house, with his wife just down the corridor . . . would she? Surely even Sir Geoffrey, licentious as he was, wouldn’t take such a risk? The thought held no conviction.
But she was going ahead of herself here, of course she was. Peggy could be in the bathroom just down the landing, this tiny boxroom not having the facilities she and Hilda enjoyed. The possibility brought her sagging with relief before she turned and opened the door, stepping into the corridor again and making her way to the bathroom. It was empty.
What was she going to do? Oh, what was she going to do? She stood on the threshold of the bathroom for long minutes, her arms about her waist as she swayed back and forth, her head buzzing. Part of her - a big part of her - wanted to scurry back to her room and shut the door on it all, put her head under the bedclothes and pretend what she knew was happening wasn’t real. But she was responsible for the way Peggy conducted herself whilst in Lady Harris’s employ. Her employer had made that very clear at her initial interview, both with regard to Peggy’s duties within the house and the young girl’s moral conduct without. The fact that corruption might come from within clearly hadn’t occurred to Lady Harris. Well, it hadn’t to her either, Sarah thought miserably. But with Lady Harris and his wife and children all around, Sir Geoffrey must be mad, or supremely arrogant, or both. Whatever, she had to do something about it. What if one of the invalids needed assistance and went to his rooms? Little William, or Constance?
That possibility brought Sarah spinning round and down the landing within seconds, and once she was on the second floor, the thick piled carpet silencing any sound, she made her way to Sir Geoffrey’s room still without any clear idea of what she was going to do. She could stand guard and grab Peggy when she came out, although how she could explain her presence if one of the family happened along she didn’t know; or perhaps knock and ask for Peggy to accompany her back to her room, embarrassing as that would be? There was even the chance, faint admittedly, that Peggy hadn’t yet fully committed herself, that she would be in time to stop the maid making such a terrible mistake, if she took the bull by the horns and knocked. Fifteen,
fifteen years old
, and Sir Geoffrey nearly old enough to be her grandfather, let alone her father.
She could never really explain afterwards what made her try the handle of the door. Perhaps it was some sixth sense, a feminine intuition that picked up something from the atmosphere within, despite there being no noise. What she did know was that as she approached the door to Sir Geoffrey’s rooms the hairs on the back of her neck rose and her flesh prickled, a sense of urgency overcoming her. Once inside, she walked through the small sitting room to the door beyond without pausing, although it was pitch black except for a faint beam of light from under the door leading to the bedroom and en suite. She turned the handle gently and the door opened the merest crack, but immediately she could hear thick grunting, the sound a pig might make when rooting for food, mingled with gasping sobs and the low twang of bedsprings.
‘No, no, please—’
It was Peggy’s voice, followed immediately by Sir Geoffrey saying, ‘A little tease, a little tease, eh? Well this is what you get for leading a man on, my girl. Little whore, that’s all you are, and don’t you forget it. You can’t tell me you didn’t know what was in store—’
Sarah’s thrusting open of the door and subsequent spring into the room seemed to occur in one motion, so violent was her entry, and at the sight of Sir Geoffrey’s fat white buttocks pounding a spreadeagled Peggy into the mattress her momentum didn’t stop. She had grasped his thinning hair, pulling him savagely backwards and off the young girl beneath him, before either of the pair on the bed realized what was happening, and as his face came into view she realized that Peggy had put up quite a fight at the end, whatever had gone on before. The scratches on his face were deep and fierce.
As Sir Geoffrey arched backwards, his head making loud contact with the carved wooden surround at the foot of the bed and his naked body, with its grotesque erection, flailing helplessly, Sarah pulled the stunned and shaking Peggy up into a sitting position, noticing the blood on the bottom sheet from her brutal deflowering with a spurt of white hot anger as she tried to pull some covers around the weeping girl.
Sir Geoffrey was on his feet now, his face livid, and making no effort to hide his nakedness, he spat, ‘What the
hell
do you think you’re doing, woman, have you gone mad? What gives you the right to come in here—’
‘Rape? Reason enough, don’t you think?’
‘Oh no. No, no, no, you aren’t going to try that one on me. She came here of her own free will, I didn’t have to drag her screaming and kicking.’
‘He said, he said—’ Peggy was crying so much she was barely coherent. ‘He said that I was special, that he just wanted to talk to me and make me understand what I meant to him. I never wanted—’
‘Did you? Did you say that?’ Sarah hissed furiously, as Sir Geoffrey, as though becoming aware of his nakedness for the first time, grabbed his dressing gown from a chair. ‘Did you trick her here and then force her?’
Sir Geoffrey swore, crudely and with great venom, before narrowing his eyes as he said, ‘Keep your voice down or so help me I’ll silence you myself.’
‘
Did you force her?
’
‘She wanted it. Damn it all, they all say no, don’t they. But she knew why she was here all right, they grow up early where she comes from—’
‘
She is barely fifteen years old
.’
‘There’s plenty been on their backs for years at that age.’
‘What are you?’ She didn’t care that he was her employer’s spoilt and adored only son, or that he was the gentry, the upper class, with wealth and privilege and power behind him. As she glared into the turkey-red face, suffused with colour from frustration and rage, Sarah saw only the man himself, and her contempt and disgust was written on her face for him to read. ‘A pervert? A sick excuse for a man, who fights the passing years with a taste for younger and younger flesh?’ It was so near the truth that the man in front of her was silent for a moment, but only a moment.
‘What’s the matter, girl? Put out because you weren’t invited too? Well, I’ve nothing against three in a bed, enjoyed myself like that more than once.’ It was said softly but with great emphasis. ‘Now if you’re not going to join us, you can get out, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll keep your mouth shut about this night’s business. I can make sure you never get another day’s work in your life.’
‘Don’t threaten me, Sir Geoffrey.’ She stood up from her sitting position on the bed where she had been holding the half-swooning Peggy against her chest, and faced him squarely. Her voice was very level as she said, ‘I’m going to take Peggy to her room, and if I have anything to do with it the matter won’t rest here. I came here tonight with the intention of sparing your mother any concern, but now I realize that was a fruitless endeavour. She needs to know what her precious son is before you use your wealth and connections to attack any more young girls—’
‘
How dare you
.’ Sir Geoffrey Harris had never had anyone talk to him the way this little chit of a housekeeper was doing, and he couldn’t have been more astounded if she had suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail. ‘You cross me and you’ll rue the day you were born, I’m warning you.’
She made no answer whatsoever, merely staring at him with a composure that was all the more damning for the scorn at the heart of it.
‘Do you hear me?’ He took a step towards her now, spittle gathering at the sides of his mouth as he ground out, ‘
Do you hear me?
If my mother, or my wife, hears anything of what’s happened here tonight I shall know who’s to blame.’ And he had thought she was a prim piece, reserved, knowing her place. It had excited him, the thought of gradually breaking down her resistance over the next few visits until he had her where he wanted her. He’d thought of jewellery, perhaps a nice pair of earrings to start with, to soften her up a bit. She was older than he normally went for - the last couple had been younger than Peggy - but there had been something about this one that made his loins ache. And now? He’d ruin her, if it was the last thing he did, and when she was broken, grovelling in the dust, he’d take her and use her and have her crawling at his feet.