POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER EIGHT ((Part Two)

                                             CHAPTER EIGHT (Part Two) 

When later Pricilla went off the village with Maggie, it was with added anguish in her heart that Rosalind, gathering her moral armour about her went to the housekeeper’s parlour. The door stood open and she could hear the woman moving about inside. She appeared to be alone and so Rosalind rapped smartly on the door.

     Mrs Gilbert hove into sight. She stared at Rosalind in consternation.

     ‘What do you want?’ Her tone was acid.

     ‘As if you don’t know,’ Rosalind said.

     ‘Go away! I have nothing to say to you.’

     ‘Afraid to face me, are you?’ Rosalind challenged. ‘I know your conscience doesn’t worry you because obviously you don't have one.’ She barged past the housekeeper and stepped into the room.

     ‘Get out!’

     ‘Don’t think you can brow beat me,’ Rosalind flared at her. ‘I’m not one of your staff.’

     Mrs Gilbert’s face was turning purple.

     ‘I’m going immediately to Sir Leopold,’ she spluttered. ‘I’ll have you thrown out, bag and baggage.’

     ‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ Rosalind said. ‘He doesn’t want me to leave; he said so.’

     Mrs Gilbert’s mouth dropped open. ‘You barefaced liar!’

     ‘Let’s not bandy words,’ Rosalind said brusquely. ‘You have deliberately labelled me with foul names, stripping me of respectability in the village. I demand to know why.’

     Mrs Gilbert’s lips twisted. ‘You’re a trollop, sure enough. The village needed to be warned against you.’

     Rosalind tightened her lips in fury. ‘You bribed those man who gave false evidence against me; you or Mr Tucker,’ she rasped.

Her hands twitched at her sides, longing to grasp the older woman by her immaculate hair and tug it out by the roots.

‘How did you persuade the curate to fall in with your plans?’ Rosalind eyed the woman keenly. ‘Perhaps you know a secret of his that you threatened to reveal?’

Something like alarm flickered in Mrs Gilbert’s gimlet eyes and Rosalind knew she was right.

‘I think I know the secret too,’ Rosalind said with triumph. ‘He’s no more a true clergyman than you are. I wager he is an impostor and you are shielding him for your own purpose.’

‘You’re talking wild nonsense,’ Mrs Gilbert shouted. ‘You’ve been shown up for what you are and now you seek revenge on innocent people.’

‘I seek justice!’ Rosalind shouted back at the top of her voice, her blood boiling. ‘And I’ll get it too.’

‘You’ll get nothing,’ Mrs Gilbert hooted. ‘No one will raise a finger to help you. You’re finished in Rhosilli. Why don’t you get out and leave us alone.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until I expose both you and your accomplice, the co-called curate,’ Rosalind said. ‘I’ll be watching you closely from now, Mrs Gilbert. You’ll show your hand sooner or later. Your kind always over-reach themselves.’

With that Rosalind whirled on her heel and left the room. There was silence for a moment and then the door slammed behind her.

Now she had had her say Rosalind felt a little better, but not much. She was still labelled; still an outcast and Sir Leopold had not yet made a decision on her future. Mr Cedric was on her side, she was certain. He would speak up for her against his father, but would it do any good? She could not leave Rhosilli until her name was cleared. A bad reputation would follow her wherever she went and would prevent her from finding good employment.