Miss Millie's Groom Read online

  “I’m sorry,” Millie was quick to say. “I mean, I suppose she could also keep it. It would be easier to conceal it in London than here.” She stumbled and finally confessed, “Oh I don’t really know.”

  “Shall I talk to Effie?” he asked, in a gesture to make the peace.

  “No, I will. You’re right; I should never have gone ahead without consulting her. It was wrong of me.”

  Ryan stroked her arm and pulled her closer to him as the small fire in front of them flickered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

  “No, you’re absolutely right. I can’t decide her life for her.” Millie paused and then sighed. “Anyway, it’s unlikely anything will come of it. Even if I have convinced Daddy, I’m doubtful he’ll have any influence over Aunt Rose.”

  “We’ll see,” said Ryan. He realised he needed to lighten the mood – and the kettle was boiling. “Now shall I make you that cup of tea?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Millie replied.

  Ryan stood up and began to prepare things over the stove.

  Millie watched him closely. “You’re sure none of the other men will come in here at this time?”

  “It’s unlikely.”

  Millie couldn’t help but laugh at how casually he said it. “And if someone did, you’d be found to be fraternising not only with the boss’s daughter but with a young lady other than your fiancée!” she remarked.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I have nothing to hide. I’m completely innocent,” he said with a smile as he handed Millie a mug and took his seat beside her.

  She sidled up to Ryan and rested her head on his shoulder. She was tempted to ask him how it would end but she knew that would be foolish. They could neither of them possibly know how things would end. Instead she said, “It’s quite cosy in here, isn’t it?”

  “Cosy because you’ve still got on your big coat!” he replied.

  “But the fire’s nice,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

  “It’s somewhere to retreat to,” he said.

  Millie lifted her head from Ryan’s shoulder and, looking into his eyes, said, “So I finally have my tea; do I now get that kiss you promised me?”

  He had barely bent his head and granted her wish before the latch of the door to the shed could be heard being lifted.

  Millie and Ryan pulled apart as John entered. “Good morning Miss Millicent,” he said, with evident surprise to find the young lady in the men’s mess.

  “Good morning John,” she replied brightly. “Would you like some tea? Ryan’s just brewed a pot.”

  John accepted and then couldn’t help but remark, “This is no place for you to be taking your elevenses.”

  “Oh I don’t know. I was just saying to Ryan how snug it is in here – I’m quite envious of you all.”

  John laughed wryly and, having poured himself a mug of tea, sat down beside them. “If I had the choice I’d sooner be in that there kitchen of Mistress Overton’s,” he observed.

  “Hmm,” Millie agreed. “Well,” she said, finishing her drink and handing her empty cup to Ryan, “next time I come to visit, perhaps I’ll smuggle out some of Cook’s famous Chelsea buns.”

  “We’d find that very welcome, Miss,” John said as Millie rose to go.

  She bade him good day, Ryan accompanying her to the door of the shed.

  “Thank you Ryan,” she said formally, tempted to giggle at the scene.

  “You’re welcome Miss Millicent,” he replied.

  “Any time you’re passing, Miss, feel free to drop in on us again,” John called with a hint of sarcasm.

  Now Ryan was stifling laughter too. He held out his hand to her and her fingers brushed his before she disappeared in the direction of the house.

  As Ryan closed the door and came back into the shed, John was having the last laugh. “If I were you, O’Flynn,” he said, “I should be wary of that one. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger – and you betrothed to Effie and all,” he chuckled.

  Ryan tried to laugh too. He quickly washed up the cups and then said to John, “I’d best get back to it.”

  * * *

  Dear Millicent,

  I hope you do not interpret this missive as my agreement to your scheme. Believe me, I consider this to be one of your father’s most foolhardy undertakings to date. Furthermore, I shall not permit your father’s maid to reside in my own property – I have no need of another servant.

  However, fate has smiled upon you, Millicent, in the unlikely form of Richard Sutton’s uncle. I would be the first to agree that he is a most atypical philanthropist but it would appear that he and his lady wife have something of a penchant for saving fallen women – moreover they are in need of a housemaid. And so your little Effie can go to work for them and they are willing to allow her, not only to have the child under their roof, but further to keep it there, if she so wishes.

  I reiterate, none of this has my approval, but it would appear the times are changing.

  Regards,

  Your Aunt Rose

  * * *

  Millie knew the only way to approach Effie was to catch her at work. At a time in the morning when she predicted Effie would be engaged in making her bed, she snuck quietly into her room. The bed was still unmade but from the en suite bathroom, Millie heard the toilet being flushed and then the taps of the sink running. Moments later Effie emerged, looking pale. “Sorry Miss,” she instinctively said upon encountering Millie.

  “There’s no need to apologise. Ryan said you’ve been feeling rotten. Poor thing. Is it still as bad?”

  “Yes,” Effie admitted. “But they say it should end in a month or so. And it’s only in the morning that I feel so awful. It eases as the day goes on.”

  “But otherwise you’re well?”

  “Oh yes, Miss – thank you.”

  “Good,” Millie replied, wondering how to proceed.

  “I should get on with the bed,” Effie suggested.

  “No,” Millie said. “Come and sit a while with me.”

  She took a seat on the unmade bed and bade Effie sit beside her.

  “My Aunt Rose has a friend in London who is looking for a maid,” she began.

  Effie looked up at her.

  “They’re good people and they know your situation.” Millie paused. “If you went to work for them you could keep the baby – or give it up if you preferred.” She stopped, realising she sounded pre-emptive. “What do you think, Effie?” she asked tentatively.

  “What would we tell people about me and Ryan?” Effie asked.

  “You need say nothing. After you’ve gone Ryan will tell people that you both realised you had rushed into the engagement and that you’ve gone to London to make it easier for him.”

  “And what will I tell people in London?”

  “That your husband is fighting on the Western Front.”

  “But that’s deceitful.”

  “Not in so many words,” Millie said, venturing carefully. “I mean, the father of your child is at war–”

  Effie looked anxious. “And how will I account for him never coming back?”

  Millie hesitated before saying, “Many men won’t come back, Effie. Nobody will be surprised.”

  “Miss, that’s awful – you’re suggesting I should fake his death?”

  Millie couldn’t reply in words.

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Effie’s tone was rather bitter.

  “I know you don’t want to leave Glassnest,” Millie said. “But this means you’d be free – and so would Ryan.”

  Effie was thoughtful. “And you can vouch that they’re decent people and they’ll let me keep the baby?”

  “Yes,” said Millie.

  “Then I’ll go,” Effie said. “I’ll go as soon as you want, Miss.”

  * * *

  Millie skulked in the barn, awaiting Ryan. After what seemed like an eternity, he entered the old building, taking care that nobody
saw him in the waning evening light.

  Millie rushed towards him and he opened his arms wide to her. “I thought you’d never come,” she said.

  “I’m only ten minutes late,” he replied, laughing at her insecurity. “I couldn’t get away from Ma Overton.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Millie said, kissing him feverishly.

  “Come and sit on the bales,” Ryan instructed.

  They did so and Ryan pulled Millie to him, stroking the arm that was swathed in a shawl.

  She shivered. “This isn’t the nicest place to meet,” she said.

  “No but it’s probably the safest at this time of day,” Ryan said, smoothing and kissing her hair.

  “And I wanted to see you before I go to Rose’s,” Millie continued.

  “I don’t understand why you have to go,” Ryan said.

  “Effie wants me to escort her. It’s a very daunting journey for her. She’s never been away from the village before – never mind to London.”

  “But why does it have to be you?”

  “Because I know her situation–”

  Ryan looked uneasy.

  “Why are you worrying?” Millie asked him.

  “Because I remember what happened last time you went to London,” he replied.

  “Oh but it’s different now,” Millie said confidently. “I have the support of Daddy this time. And, anyway, this has nothing to do with you.”

  Ryan looked deeply into her eyes and stroked the hair away from her cheek, knowing that her final assertion was false.

  “Cheer up,” Millie said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Her insistence didn’t convince Ryan. He took her in his arms and held her almost too tightly.

  “There’s a danger you could become possessive, Mr O’Flynn,” Millie said, in truth overwhelmed by his devotion.

  But her flippant talk had no effect upon him. There was something wrong, Ryan knew. Any scheme that relied upon the benevolence of Aunt Rose was sure to be flawed.

  “But since you obviously think this is such a momentous occasion, maybe you should give me a going-away present,” Millie suggested.

  “I have a couple of sugar lumps that Mrs Overton gave me for the horses in my pocket–” he offered.

  “No, silly. I don’t mean that kind of present,” Millie said suggestively, climbing up to sit astride him and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

  “I think I know the kind of thing you have in mind,” Ryan said, removing Millie’s shawl, to discover that she wore a loose dress beneath it.

  “You can practically just lift this thing off,” she said, referring to the dress. “It’s in the new style.”

  “Very convenient,” Ryan replied, hitching up the dress over her head as she raised her arms.

  He gazed at Millie’s fair skin.

  “Do you like my silk chemise?” she asked him.

  “You know I do,” Ryan replied, enraptured.

  “But it’s not as soft as your skin–” Millie said, breaking off to place a kiss on the shoulder she had revealed by pulling off his shirt.

  “Are you saying I’m not masculine enough for you, Miss Millie?” Ryan replied with mock offence in his voice.

  “Oh, I think you’ll do for now, O’Flynn,” Millie replied, dropping her head to kiss the soft skin of his chest.

  “You can kiss me Ryan,” she said a while later, slipping the straps of her chemise from her shoulders, to reveal more of herself to him.

  Ryan cupped her breasts in his hands and felt the contour of them beneath the silk. He traced a course of kisses across her bosom but Millie knew he’d never reveal her tender flesh to his eyes. “You drive me insane,” she said to him.

  Looking up, he smiled at her, half-devil, half-angel and said, “Don’t stay away too long this time – please.”

  Chapter 10

  Randolph and Millie stood waiting for Effie at the bottom of Glassnest’s grand staircase.

  “What on earth is keeping the girl?” Millie complained. “If we don’t get going soon Daddy we’ll miss the train.”

  “Be patient, Millicent,” Randolph urged. “This is probably a very emotional morning for her.” He paused then added, “And Mrs Overton is up there now to chivvy her along.”

  Millie huffed but as she did so Mrs Overton appeared on the landing, instructing John and one of the younger men in carrying down a large trunk.

  “Good lord!” Millie exclaimed. “Surely Effie doesn’t have that many possessions?”

  “Oh,” Randolph began vaguely, “your Aunt Rose asked for some drapes to be sent through to her.”

  Millie looked up at her father dubiously and tutted. The men brought the trunk downstairs and then scaled the flight again, soon reappearing with Effie’s much smaller, lighter trunk, shortly after which a tearful Effie emerged, the generous arm of Mrs Overton draped comfortingly about her slender form.

  “Now, now, young lady,” Mrs Overton was saying, “there’s no need for tears. This is a very exciting day for you. Many’s the time I myself have yearned to go to that London.”

  Millie raised her eyebrows upon hearing this nonsense. “I’m sorry to rush you, Effie,” she said, “but we really do need to get going.”

  Effie nodded and then burst into sobs as Mrs Overton fully embraced her. Once she’d released the girl from her ample bosom, Randolph himself gave Effie a muted hug and kissed her cheek, saying, “Be a good girl, Effie. I know you will.”

  How they ever got out of the Hall and onto the station platform in time, Millie didn’t know but, after a rather long and very quiet journey with Effie, they were met by Aunt Rose’s man at the city station, and then, before Millie knew it, she was once again standing on the hearth of her aunt’s austere drawing room, with a glum Effie beside her, the two of them awaiting an address from the distinguished lady.

  “I should start by repeating what I have already imparted to Millicent by way of a letter. Namely, that neither of you should interpret my actions as an approval of this scheme. Euphemia, you have behaved foolishly, to say the least and I myself would not be willing to have you under my roof, given your poor judgement.” She paused, then continued, “However, fortunately for you, others are more forgiving. You shall stay here tonight and tomorrow you will be collected by the Suttons.”

  She paused for long enough for Effie to mumble a half-hearted, “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Shall I return to Glassnest tomorrow?” Millie asked hopefully.

  Rose directed her steady gaze at the girl. “Not immediately, Millicent,” she said.

  “But I have no clothes,” Millie said casually.

  “Not quite so,” Rose replied.

  Millie was puzzled.

  “Effie, your presence is required no longer. Run along to the kitchen and ask Mansell for some dinner. After that I advise you to get an early night.”

  Effie left the room with a barely audible acknowledgement of her instructions and a guilty glance towards Millie.

  “Sit down Millicent,” Rose ordered.

  Millie did her aunt’s bidding hesitantly.

  “You do have clothes. I instructed Effie to pack you a trunk too.”

  Millie shot her an angry glance. The worst was not her manipulation or Effie’s complicity. Neither of those things was so surprising. But she suspected that her father must have been in on it too. She was determined not to rise to it but she needed confirmation of her fears. “And did you get your curtains?” she asked calmly.

  Rose’s blank look verified her worst suspicion. “Oh sorry, I must have got it wrong,” Millie said dismissively.

  “You shall be staying here for a time, Millicent,” Rose continued.

  Millie knew Rose was expecting –indeed, hoping for– opposition to that plan. She was determined not to give her the satisfaction. “Then might we see Doctor Sutton while I’m here?” she asked brightly.

  “He’s out of town, you remember?” Rose replied.

  “But surely
he gets some time off, Aunt,” Millie pursued. “When his uncle comes to fetch Effie tomorrow, we could enquire, couldn’t we?”

  She witnessed the look of surprise on her aunt’s face and was pleased by it. “That’s what you ought to do,” Millie continued animatedly. “Ask his uncle to bring Richard to dinner soon, Aunt Rose. It’ll give us an opportunity to find out how Effie’s getting on too,” Millie concluded, beaming outwardly but feeling inner rage that Ryan’s misgivings about her aunt’s motives had not, after all, been unfounded.

  * * *

  In the morning, just before the Suttons were due to arrive to collect Effie, Millie scaled the narrow flight of spiralling stairs that led to the attic room in which the serving girl had passed the night.

  She found Effie dressed in her only smart outfit, surveying her small bump in the full-length mirror that Aunt Rose had consigned to the room.

  “They’ll be here soon,” Millie said.

  “I know,” Effie replied. “Do you need me to come down now?”

  Millie knew very well that Effie was trying to avoid Rose until the last possible moment – she feared her disapproval.

  “In a minute,” Millie said, “but before we go downstairs, there’s something I want to give you.”

  She produced from her pocket the wedding ring that had been her mother’s and offered it to Effie.

  “I can’t accept this, Miss,” Effie complained.

  “Yes you can Effie and I’m determined that you shall have it,” Millie said firmly.

  “But if it belonged to her ladyship–”

  “She would have wanted you to have it every bit as much as I do,” Millie insisted.

  Effie was silent as Millie slipped the ring onto her finger. “There you are, it fits perfectly,” Millie said brightly. Then more soberly she continued, “Wear this, Effie, and people won’t question that you’re married.” From below she could hear the distant ring of the doorbell; there wasn’t much time left. “It looks plain enough,” Millie said, “but it’s a valuable ring. If you’re ever in trouble, Effie, sell it and use the money to return to Glassnest – with the child. You know you will always have a place there – my father would never see you destitute and I would always welcome you home with open arms.”