Free Paradise Park by Iris Gower Page B

flaunt it in the faces of the lower orders.
    On the drive through town, Sal wondered if she was wise to go with this man, who was a stranger to her. For all she knew he might beat her or, worse, murder her and leave her in a ditch somewhere. But, then, if he’d meant her harm, he would hardly be seen with her in full view of the people at the Paradise Park.
    Mr Morton-Edwards was silent as they drew up outside the door of a magnificent house. He stepped down from the carriage and gave her his hand to help her. Then Sal knew he was a real gentleman, not like the ones who came to the hotel.
    He rapped on the door with his cane. It was opened at once by a neatly dressed maid, wearing a spotless apron and a starched cap, who bobbed a curtsy then stood back to allow him inside the elegant hall. ‘I’ll tell Mrs Buchan you’re here, sir.’ She looked doubtfully at Sal, then disappeared across the hall and into one of the rooms. Mr Morton-Edwards didn’t wait for the girl to reappear. ‘Stay here, there’s a good girl,’ he said, and then he, too, vanished.
    Sal hopped from one foot to the other, wishing again that she had shoes. She envied the maid her beautiful house slippers in soft satin. They were plain but expensive, if Sal was any judge.
    â€˜I’ll see the girl, of course, Father.’ The voice came from one of the rooms. ‘I don’t promise to take her on, but I’ll talk to her.’
    Mr Morton-Edwards came into the hall with a woman Sal guessed was his daughter. She was pretty in a delicate way with soft pale gold hair, just like her father’s. Her eyes rested on Sal and studied her.
    â€˜This is Sal,’ Mr Morton-Edwards said. ‘I believe she knows Rhiannon. Now, don’t jump to conclusions, Rhiannon was trying to get the girl off the streets.’ He smiled. ‘It seems Rhiannon has the same impulse as you to save unfortunate women.’ He glanced at Sal. ‘Though in this case she’s more of a child than anything else, which is why I thought you might take her in out of the goodness of your heart.’
    â€˜Why don’t you?’ Mrs Buchan asked. ‘I’m not setting up a home for poverty-stricken harlots. Father.’
    â€˜Well, I brought her here because I’ve more servants than I can cope with.’
    â€˜That’s true.’ Mrs Buchan smiled. ‘There was a time when you ran your house with as few servants as you could manage. Now you seem to have a multitude.’ She looked at Sal again. ‘Are you willing to work, girl, and to stay away from the menfolk of my household?’
    â€˜Oh, I am, Mrs Buchan. I’ll work my fingers to the bone. As for men I’ve had a gutful of them,’ Sal said.
    â€˜All right, then. Go down to the kitchen and Cook will take care of you. Tell Rhiannon that you are to share her room. Now come along. Father, and tell me just how you came to meet this girl you’re trying so hard to rescue.’
    They went into one of the rooms and the door was closed firmly behind them. Sal looked around her, wondering how to find the kitchen. She saw a darkened passage that led, she guessed, to the back of the house. From there a flight of stairs took her downwards. Sal paused, her feet cold on the bare steps, and listened to the sound of voices coming from below. This was where her new life would begin.
    Rhiannon was putting a joint of beef into the oven when the door opened and a small, vaguely familiar figure came slowly into the kitchen. The girl was wearing odd clothing that hung on her slight form like washing pegged to a line. Then she recognized the tip-tilted nose and the bright blue eyes. ‘Sal!’ she said in astonishment. ‘What in the name of all the angels are you doing here?’
    Mrs Jones looked up from rolling out the pastry for a meat pie and raised her eyebrows. From the scullery, Violet and Hetty came into the kitchen and all of them stared