Fan did not fail to be at Dawson Place at the time, or a little before
the time, appointed. “Oh, I hope that girl won't open the door when I
ring,” she said to herself, giving the door-bell a little hesitating
pull. But the summons was promptly answered by the undesirable person
in question, and she greeted the visitor with a mocking curtsey. She had
little time, however, in which to make Fan miserable, for Miss Starbrow
was quickly on the scene, looking very gracious and very beautiful in a
dark red morning gown.
“Come here and sit down,” she said, placing herself in one hall chair
and making Fan take the other. “Now listen. Would you like to come and
live here as my servant? You are not fit for such a place, I know--at
all events, not at present; and I should not put you with the other
servants, and upstairs you could do nothing. However that does not
signify. The thing is this. If you would like to come and live with me
you must stay here now, and never go back to those places where you have
lived, and try if possible to forget all about them.”
“Oh yes, ma'am, I promise!” she replied, trembling with joy at the very
thought of escaping from that life of bitter want and anxiety.
“Very well, that's settled then. Come this way with me.”
She then led the way to a large bath-room, a few steps above the
first-floor landing.
“Now,” she said, “undress yourself, and put all your clothes and hat and
shoes in a bundle in the corner--they are shocking to look at, and must
be taken away--and give yourself a hot bath. See, I am turning on the
water for you. That will be enough. And stay in as long as you like,
or can, and try not only to wash off all the dirt on your skin, but all
thought and recollection of Moon Street and Harrow Road and doorsteps,
and all the foul evil things you have seen and heard in your life; and
when you have washed all that off, Fan, and dried yourself, wrap this
shawl around you, and run into that open room you see facing the bath.”
Left to herself, Fan proceeded to obey the instructions she had
received. It was a great luxury to be in that smooth enamelled basin,
where she could lie at full length and move her limbs freely about,
experiencing the delicious sensation of the hot water over her whole
body at the same time.
In the dressing-room she found her mistress waiting for her. There were
clothes there ready for her, and now, for the first time in her life,
she dressed herself in new, clean, sweet garments, over all a gown of
a soft grey material, loose at the waist, and reaching nearly to the
ankles--a kind of “Maid Marian” costume. There were also black stockings
and new shoes. Everything fitted well, although they had all been made
the day before by guess in Westbourne Grove.
Miss Starbrow made her stand in the middle of the room, and turned
her round, while Fan glanced shyly at her own reflection in the tall
cheval-glass, almost wondering “if this be I.”
“Yes, that will do well enough for the present,” said her mistress.
“But your hair is all uneven, Fan, and such lovely hair to be spoilt by
barbarous neglect. Let me cut it even for you, and by-and-by we'll find
out how to arrange it. Well, no; just now it looks best hanging loose on
your back. When it grows long again, we'll put it up. Now come here to
the light, and let me, see what you're like. Nearly fifteen years old,
and pale and very thin, poor girl, which makes you look tall. Golden
hair, good features, and a very pure skin for a girl who has lived a
grimy life. And your eyes--don't be afraid to show them, Fan. If you
had not looked at me yesterday with those eyes, I should have thought no
more about you. Long lashes. Eyes grey--yes, grey decidedly, though at
times they look almost sapphire blue; but the pupils are so large--that
is perhaps the secret of their pathetic expression. That will do. You
think it strange, do you not, Fan? that I should take you into my house
and clothe you--a poor homeless girl; for I don't suppose that you can
do anything for me, and you will therefore only be an extra expense.
A great piece of folly, my friends would probably say. But don't be
afraid, I care nothing for what others say. What I do, I do only to
please myself, and not others. If I am disappointed in you, and find you
different from what I imagine, I shall not keep you, and there will be
an end of it all. Now don't look so cast-down; I believe that you are at
heart a good, pure, truthful girl. I think I can see that much in
your eyes, Fan. And there is, after all, something you can do for
me--something which few can do, or do so well, which will be sufficient
payment for all I am doing for you.”
“Oh, ma'am, will you please tell me what it is?” exclaimed Fan, her
voice trembling with eagerness.
“Perhaps you will do it without my telling you, Fan. I shall leave you
to think about it and find out what it is for yourself. I must only tell
you this; I have not taken you into my house because I am charitable and
like doing good to the poor. I am not charitable, and care nothing about
the poor. I have taken you in for my own pleasure; and as I think well
of you, I am going to trust you implicitly. You may stay in this room
when I am out, or go into the back room on this floor, where you can
look out on the garden, and amuse yourself with the books and pictures
till I come back. I am going out now, and at one o'clock Rosie will give
you some dinner. Take no notice of her if she teases you. Mind me, and
not the servants--they are nothing.”
Miss Starbrow then changed her dress and went out, leaving Fan to her
own devices, wondering what it was that she could do for her mistress,
and feeling a little trouble about the maid who would give her her
dinner at one o'clock; and after a while she went to explore that
apartment at the back Miss Starbrow had spoken of. It was a large
room, nearly square, with cream-coloured walls and dark red dado, and a
polished floor, partly covered with a Turkish carpet; but there was very
little furniture in it, and the atmosphere seemed chill and heavy, for
it was the old unrenewed air of a room that was never used. On a large
centre table a number of artistic objects were lying together in a
promiscuous jumble: Japanese knick-knacks; an ivory card-case that had
lost its cover, and a broken-bladed paper-knife; glove and collar and
work-boxes of sandal-wood, mother-of-pearl, and papier-mâché,
with broken hinges; faded fans and chipped paper-weights; gorgeous
picture-books with loosened covers, and a magnificent portrait-album
which had been deflowered and had nothing left in it but the old and
ugly, the commonplace middle-aged, and the vapid young; with many other
things besides, all more or less defective.
This round table seemed like an asylum and last resting-place of things
which had never been useful, and had ceased to be ornamental, which were
yet not quite bad enough to be thrown into the dust-bin. To Fan it was
a sort of South Kensington Museum, where she was permitted to handle
things freely, and for some time she continued inspecting these rich
treasures, after which she once more began to glance round the room.
Such a stately room, large enough to shelter two or three families, so
richly decorated with its red and cream colours, yet silent and cold and
dusty and untenanted! On the mantelpiece of grey marble stood a
large ornamental clock, which ticked not and the hands of which were
stationary, supported on each side by bronzes--a stalwart warrior in
a coat of mail in the act of drawing his sword, and a long-haired
melancholy minstrel playing on a guitar. A few landscapes in oil were
also hanging on the walls--representations of that ideal world of green
shade and peace which was so often in Fan's mind. Facing the fireplace
stood a tall bookcase, and opening it she selected a book full of poetry
and pictures, and took it to an old sofa, or couch, to read. The sofa
was under the large window, which had panes of coloured glass, and
remembering that Miss Starbrow had told her that it looked on to the
garden, she got on to the sofa and pushed the heavy sash up.
There was a good-sized garden without, and trees in it--poplar, lime,
and thorn, now nearly leafless; but it was very pleasant to see them and
to feel the mild autumn air on her face, so pleasant that Fan thought
no more about her book. Ivy grew in abundance against the walls of the
garden, and there were laurel and other evergreen shrubs in it, and a
few China asters--white, red, and purple--still blooming. No sound came
to her at that quiet back window, except the loud glad chirruping of the
sparrows that had their home there. How still and peaceful it seemed!
The pale October sunshine--pale, but never had sunshine seemed
so divine, so like a glory shining on earth from the far heavenly
throne--fell lighting up the dark leaves of ivy and laurel, stiff and
green and motionless as if cut out of malachite, and the splendid red
and purple shields of the asters; and filling the little dun-coloured
birds with such joy that their loud chirping grew to a kind of ringing
melody.
Oh, that dark forsaken room in Moon Street, full of bitter memories of
miserable years! Oh, poor dead mother lying for ever silent and cold in
the dark earth! Oh, poor world-weary woman in Dudley Grove, and all
the countless thousands that lived toiling, hungry, hopeless lives in
squalid London tenements--why had she, Fan, been so favoured as to be
carried away from it all into this sweet restful place? Why--why? Then,
even while she asked, wondering, thinking that it was all like a strange
beautiful dream, unable yet to realise it, suddenly as by inspiration
the meaning of the words Miss Starbrow had spoken to her flashed into
her mind; and the thought made her tremble, the blood rushed to her
face, and she felt her eyes growing dim with tears of joy. Was it
true, could it be true, that this proud, beautiful lady--how much more
beautiful now to Fan's mind than all other women!--really loved her, and
that to be loved was all she desired in return? She was on her knees on
the sofa, her arms resting on the window-sill, and forgetful now of the
sunshine and leaves and flowers, and of the birds on the brown twigs
talking together in their glad ringing language, she closed her eyes and
resigned herself wholly to this delicious thought.
“Oh, here you are, sly little cat! Who said you might come into this
room?”
Fan, starting up in alarm, found herself confronted with the pretty
housemaid. But the pretty eyes were sparkling vindictively, the breath
coming short and quick, and the pretty face was white with resentment.
“The lady told me to come here,” returned Fan, still a little
frightened.
“Oh, did she! and pray what else did she tell you? And don't lie,
because I shall find you out if you do.”
Fan was silent.
“You won't speak, you little sneak! When your mistress is out you must
mind _me_--do you hear? Go instantly and take your filthy rags to the
dust-bin, and ask cook for a bottle of carbolic acid to throw over them.
We don't want any of your nasty infectious fevers brought here, if you
please.”
Fan hesitated a few moments, and then replied, “I'll only do what the
lady tells me.”
“You'll only do what the lady tells you!” she repeated, with a mocking
whine. Then, in unconscious imitation of the scornful caterpillar in the
wonderful story of Alice, she added, “You! And who are _you_! Shall I
tell you what you are? A filthy, ragged little beggar picked out of the
gutter, a sneaking area thief, put into the house for a spy! You vile
cat, you! A starving mangy cur! Yes, I'll give you your dinner; I'll
feed you on swill and dog-biscuits, and that's better than you ever had
in your life. You, a diseased, pasty-faced little street-walker, too
bad even for the slums, to keep you, to be dressed up and waited on by
respectable servants! How dare you come into this house! I'd like to
wring your miserable sick-chicken's neck for you!”
She was in a boiling rage, and stamped her foot and poured out her
words so rapidly that they almost ran into each other; but Fan's whole
previous life had served to make her indifferent to hard words, however
unjust, and the housemaid's torrent of abuse had not the least effect.
Rosie, on her side, finding that her rage was wasted, sat down to
recover herself, and then began to jeer at her victim, criticising her
appearance, and asking her for the cast-off garments--“for which
your la'ship will have no further use.” Finding that her ridicule was
received in the same silent passive way, she became more demonstrative.
“Somebody's been trimming you,” she said. “I s'pose Miss Starbrow was
your barber--a nice thing for a lady! Well, I never! But there's one
thing she forgot. Here's a pair of scissors. Now, little sick monkey,
sit still while I trim your eyelashes. It'll be a great improvement,
I'm sure. Oh, you won't! Well, then I'll soon make you.” And putting the
pair of small scissors between her lips, she seized Fan by the arms and
tried to force her down on the sofa. Fan resisted silently and with all
her strength, but her strength was by no means equal to Rosie's, and
after a desperate struggle she was overcome and thrown on to the couch.
“Now, will you be quiet and let me trim you!” said the maid.
“No.”
In speaking, Rosie had dropped the scissors from her mouth, and not
being able to use her hands occupied in holding her victim down, she
could do nothing worse than make faces, thrust out her tongue, and
finally spit at Fan. Then she thought of something better. “If you won't
be quiet and let me trim you,” she said, “I'll pinch your arms till
they're black and blue.”
No reply being given, she proceeded to carry out her threat, and Fan set
her teeth together and turned her face away to hide the tears. At length
the other, tired of the struggle, released her. Fan bared her arm,
displaying a large discoloration, and moistened it with her mouth to
soothe the pain. She had a good deal of experience in bruises. “It'll be
black by-and-by,” she said, “and I'll show it to the lady when she comes
back.”
“Oh, you'll show it to her, you little tell-tale sneak! Then I'll be
even with you and put rat's-bane in your dinner.”
“Why don't you leave me alone, then?” said Fan.
Rosie considered for some time, and finally said, “I'll leave you alone
if you'll tell me what you are here for--everything about yourself,
mind, and no lies; and what Miss Starbrow is going to do with you.”
“I don't know, and I sha'n't say a word more,” returned Fan, whereupon
Rosie slapped her face and ran out of the room.
In spite of the rough handling she had been subjected to, and the pain
in her arm, Fan very soon recovered her composure. Her happiness was too
great to be spoiled by so small a matter, and very soon she returned to
her place at the open window and to her pleasant thoughts.
About midday the maid came again bringing a tray. “Here's your food,
starved puppy; lap it up, and may it choke you,” she said, and left the
room.
After she had been gone a few minutes, Fan, beginning to feel hungry,
went to the table, and found a plate of stewed meat and vegetables,
with bread and cheese, and a glass of ale. But over it all Rosie had
carefully sprinkled ashes, and had also dropped a few pinches into the
ale, making it thick and muddy. Now, although on any previous day of her
hungry orphaned existence she would have wiped off the ashes and eaten
the food, on this occasion she determined not to touch it. Her new
surroundings and dress, and the thought that she was no longer without
someone to care for her, had served to inspire in her a pride which was
stronger than hunger. Presently she noticed that the door had a key to
it, and in her indignation at the maid's persecution she ran and locked
it, resolved to let the dinner remain there untasted until Miss Starbrow
should return.
Presently Rosie came back, and finding the door locked, began knocking
and calling. “Open, you cat!” she cried. “I must take the things down,
now you've gobbled up your pig's food. Open, you spiteful little devil!”
“I haven't touched the dinner, and I sha'n't open the door till the lady
comes,” she answered, and would say no more.
After a good deal more abuse, Rosie in despair went away; but presently
the cook came up, and Fan opened to her. She had a second supply of food
and beer, without any ashes in it this time, and put it on the table.
“Now, have your dinner, miss,” she said, with mock humility. She was
taking away the first tray, but at the door she paused and, looking
back, said, “You won't say nothing to the missus, will you, miss?”
“If she'll let me be I'll not say anything,” said Fan.
“Very well, miss, she won't trouble you no more. But, lors, she
don't mean no harm; it's only her little funny ways.” And having thus
explained and smoothed matters over, she went off to the kitchen.
About five o'clock Miss Starbrow came in and found Fan still sitting by
the open window in the darkening room.
“Why, my poor girl, you must be half frozen,” she said, coming to the
sofa.
But how little Fan felt the chill evening air, when she started up at
the kind greeting, her eyes brightening and her face flushing with that
strange new happiness now warming her blood and making her heart beat
quick!
“Oh no, ma'am, I'm not a bit cold,” she said.
The other pulled off her glove and touched the girl's cheek with her
fingers.
“Your skin feels cold enough, anyhow,” she returned. “Come into my room;
it is warmer there.”
Fan followed into the adjoining large bedroom, where a bright fire was
burning in the grate; and Miss Starbrow, taking off her hat and cloak,
sat down. After regarding the girl for some time in silence, she said
with a little laugh, “What can I do with you, Fan?”
Fan was troubled at this, and glanced anxiously at the other's face,
only to drop her eyes abashed again; but at last, plucking up a little
courage, she said:
“Will you please let me do something in the house, ma'am?” And after a
few moments she added, “I wish I could do something, and--and be your
servant.”
Miss Starbrow laughed again, and then frowned a little and sat silent
for some time.
“The fact is,” she said at length, “now that you are here I don't quite
know what to do with you. However, that doesn't signify. I took you for
my own pleasure, and it doesn't make much difference to have you in the
house, and if it did I shouldn't care. But you must look after yourself
for the present, as I have just got rid of one servant and there are
only two to do everything. They are anxious for me not to engage a
third just now, and prefer to do all the work themselves, which means, I
suppose, that there will be more plunder to divide between them.”
“And can't I help, ma'am?” said Fan, whose last words had not yet been
answered.
“I fancy you would look out of place doing housework,” said Miss
Starbrow. “It strikes me that you are not suited for that sort of thing.
If it hadn't been so, I shouldn't have noticed you. The only way in
which I should care to employ you would be as lady's-maid, and for that
you are unfit. Perhaps I shall have you taught needlework and that kind
of thing by-and-by, but I am not going to bother about it just now. For
the present we must jog along just how we can, and you must try to make
yourself as happy as you can by yourself.”
Just then the housemaid came up with tea for her mistress.
“Get me another cup--a large one, and some more bread-and-butter,” said
Miss Starbrow.
“The young person's tea is in the back room, ma'am,” returned Rosie,
with a tremor in her voice.
Miss Starbrow looked at her, but without speaking; the maid instantly
retired to obey the order, and when she set the cup and plate of
bread-and-butter on the tray her hand trembled, while her mistress,
with a slight smile on her lips, watched her face, white with suppressed
rage.
After tea, during which Miss Starbrow had been strangely kind and gentle
to the girl, she said:
“Perhaps you can help me take off my dress, Fan, and comb out my hair.”
This was strange work for Fan, but her intense desire to do something
for her mistress partly compensated for her ignorance and awkwardness,
and after a little while she found that combing those long rich black
tresses was an easy and very delightful task. Miss Starbrow sat with
eyes half-closed before the glass, only speaking once or twice to tell
Fan not to hurry.
“The longer you are with my hair the better I like it,” she said.
Fan was only too glad to prolong the task; it was such a pleasure to
feel the hair of this woman who was now so much to her; if the glass had
not been before them--the glass in which from time to time she saw
the half-closed eyes studying her face--she would more than once have
touched the dark tresses she held in her hand to her lips.
Miss Starbrow, however, spoke no more to her, but finishing her dressing
went down to her seven o'clock dinner, leaving Fan alone by the fire.
After dinner she came up again and sat by the bedroom fire in the dark
room. Then Rosie came up to her.
“Captain Horton is in the drawing-room, ma'am,” she said.
Miss Starbrow rose to go to her visitor.
“You can stay where you are, Fan, until bed-time,” she said. “And
by-and-by the maid will give you some supper in the back room. Is Rosie
impudent to you--how has she been treating you to-day?”
Fan was filled with distress, remembering her promise, and cast down her
eyes.
“Very well, say nothing; that's the best way, Fan. Take no notice of
what anyone says to you. Servants are always vile, spiteful creatures,
and will act after their kind. Good-night, my girl,” and with that she
went downstairs.
Fan sat there for half an hour longer in the grateful twilight and
warmth of that luxurious room, and then Rosie's voice startled her
crying at the door:
“Doggie! doggie! come and have its supper.”
Fan got up and went to the next room, where her supper and a lighted
lamp were on the centre table. Rosie followed her.
“Can you tell the truth?” she said.
“Yes,” returned Fan.
“Well, then, have you told Miss Starbrow?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you anything?”
“Yes, and I didn't tell her.”
“Oh, how very kind!” said Rosie; and giving her a box on the ear, ran
out of the room.
Not much hurt, and not caring much, Fan sat down to her supper.
Returning to the bedroom she heard the sound of the piano, and paused on
the landing to listen. Then a fine baritone voice began singing, and was
succeeded by a woman's voice, a rich contralto, for they were singing
a duet; and voice following voice, and anon mingling in passionate
harmony, the song floated out loud from the open door, and rose and
seemed to fill the whole house, while Fan stood there listening,
trembling with joy at the sound.
The singing and playing continued for upwards of an hour, and Fan still
kept her place, until the maid came up with a candle to show her to
her bedroom. They went up together to the next floor into a small
neatly-furnished room which had been prepared for her.
“Here's your room,” said Rosie, setting down the candle on the table,
“and now I'm going to give you a good spanking before you go to bed.”
“If you touch me again I'll scream and tell Miss Starbrow everything,”
said Fan, plucking up a spirit.
Rosie shut and locked the door. “Now you can scream your loudest, cat,
and she'll not hear a sound.”
For a few moments Fan did not know what to do to save herself; then
all at once the memory of some old violent wrangle came to her aid,
and springing forward she blew out the candle and softly retreated to a
corner of the room, where she remained silent and expectant.
“You little wretch!” exclaimed the other. “Speak, or I'll kill you!” But
there was no answer. For some time Rosie stumbled about until she found
the door, and after some jeering words retreated downstairs, leaving Fan
in the dark.
She had defeated her enemy this time, and quickly locking the door, went
to bed without a light.