She stood and began to walk carefully, stumbling as her boots navigated the slippery earth that was now running with building rivulets. The earlier breeze had whipped into a strong wind that lashed the rain against her freezing body, bending the heavy boughs and howling in a low moan, transforming the charming forest of before into a menacing, frightening beast.
Mother Nature was in a fury now, no longer softly nurturing. Blinding sheets of lightning flashed, intermittently illuminating the wildly thrashing landscape in stark white, and clouds rumbled and roared in angry thunder. The comforting oak trees of before now seemed like dark giants waiting to grab at her as she passed and she let out a scream as a branch snagged her dress, ripping it as she fell against the hedge, grazing her knees. Eve wished desperately that Rosebud was still with her; any company would be welcome about now. Then the sound of approaching hooves made her reconsider that last thought and she shrank into the shadows, pushing mud and soaking strands of hair from out of her eyes.
‘Eve! Eve, are you there?’
‘Robert!’
She clambered over the hedge to run to him as he leapt from Zeus, relief flooding her as she stumbled into his arms.
‘Good God, where have you been? We’ve search parties scouring…’
‘I took Rosebud for a walk and rested…for a while and I just… fell…fell asleep.’ Her entire body was shaking as she forced the words out but he was here, her Robert, and she was safe now. Eve buried herself against his warm coat, no longer caring about the cold or the rain or the dark.
‘When she came back on her own I didn’t know what to think,’ he told her, a desperate edge to his voice as he took her face in his palms and stroked back her soaking hair. Then he kissed her and her love for him was so great her ruling heart dictated her body and mind. She clutched at his coat now, filled with a sudden urgency to be consumed by the force of it, all risk thrown to that whipping wind as she drew him down against her breast that he soon exposed. Robert tore at her skirts, pushing her against the rough trunk of a tree, unheeding of the other raging forces of nature that savaged them. Urgent in turn as their nakedness met the shock of the elements.
‘If she isn’t down this way I’ll go back to check…’
Eve’s senses were so consumed she thought perhaps she imagined the voice, but then there were dogs barking and another voice, louder this time, as the lightning lit everything and everyone into sudden, stark revelation. Men on horseback. Thrashing branches. Skin on skin.
‘Good lord! Robert…is that you?’
Then she was suddenly, brutally exposed as Robert’s body drew away. Then there were more voices and she was dragging wet clothes over bare, icy flesh. And someone was demanding explanations and Robert was mounting his white horse and someone else picked her up and threw her on one of her own, leading her through the night, back to the estate.
And all the while the rain poured and the wind ripped and a horn sounded, far away, signalling that the hunting was done.
Thirteen
The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the hall and Eve listened to it with the vague thought that a great clock had kept her company the last time she had sat outside a room, awaiting a verdict. How quickly time had moved since that sad day. How much had changed and would now change further, uncertainty growing with every slow, inevitable beat.
Eve had heard them all through the walls: Lady Margaret’s triumph that she’d poorly disguised as outrage, Sir John’s disappointment and attempts at pacifying his wife, Sir Humphrey’s disgust – with Eve or his son she was yet to fully discern – Lady Sophia’s condemnation, and now this, Molly’s damning testimony. Her voice rang out clearly over the sound of the clock, designed to be heard from the hall.
‘Off with Master Robert day ’n’ night, shirking her duties, but the likes o’ her don’t care. Too good for the rest of us, she’ll have you believe…’
‘Do you mean to tell me this has been going on for some time?’ Lady Sophia demanded.
‘I’d say for months, m’lady – right behind your back and all. High and mighty as she is, no wonder she’s lifting her skirts for gentry…’
‘Yes, yes, that will do then, Molly,’ Eve heard Sir Humphrey say. He was beginning to sound tired and Eve wondered if they would call for her soon, announcing her sentence and so putting an end to this household trial. How she longed for Mrs Matthews, hoping she would be allowed to go home. Perhaps Robert would be sent abroad and she would be permitted to stay in the kitchens or work here at the country estate. Perhaps I would even be able to see him at times, her heart interrupted her thoughts.
Shut it, she told it firmly, but it was impossible to fully do so.
Robert was yet to make an appearance and Eve was beginning to wonder if he would. Maybe he’d headed back to Liverpool or London to spare her a more emotionally charged scene. Funnily enough, she felt devoid of emotion right now. Blank. Probably exhaustion, she supposed, having not slept all night. But it did feel eerily familiar to that other day in the hallway. She knew by now that sometimes, when you desperately dread something happening and it finally comes to pass, it seems, strangely, not quite real; to the point that you doubt you will feel any emotion at all. But emotion would arrive, and with it that rare comfort of tears. She knew that much as well.
The door burst open and Molly walked out, casting her a look so superior Eve could almost have slapped her, if she’d had any energy available for such things. But then Eve’s name was called at last and she dragged herself forward to face yet another of life’s verdicts.
‘Sit down, Eve,’ Sir Humphrey said, gesturing at a hard-backed chair.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Her voice sounded faint and other-worldly beneath her protective cloak of non-reality and Eve forced herself to concentrate hard and answer as carefully as she could.
Sir Humphrey looked over at Lady Sophia who sat stony-faced as he cleared his throat. ‘Firstly, I must say I am both surprised and disappointed. I can’t even imagine what your father would have to say about this.’
Eve swallowed hard as tears found her throat and her previously numbed emotions sprang to life in a sudden wave. ‘Yes, sir,’ she managed.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you of the seriousness of the matter. Whatever you were thinking, disgracing yourself in such a way…Seducing the young man of the house is an unforgivable offence for a servant. We cannot protect you, you understand.’
‘I…I…did not mean to…’
‘Nevertheless, you have committed this crime, Eve. It cannot be undone.’
‘But…but Robert told me he…’
‘Silence,’ Sir Humphrey thundered as Lady Sophia let out a gasp. ‘How dare you use his name in such a familiar manner? Have you lost all sense of propriety?’
‘N…no, sir. It’s…it’s just that he was the one that wanted t-to… initially…he said he…’
‘A woman’s role is to curb physical attention from a man,’ Lady Sophia scoffed. ‘You were hardly forced, by all accounts, unless you are attempting to lay such accusations upon my son.’
Eve stared at her, scarcely believing they meant to lay all fault at her door and scrambling for a way to explain. ‘No, ma’am, but he did tell me he…he said…the first time…’
‘Are you seriously trying to defend this sordid behaviour by even telling us there was a first time?’ Sir Humphrey raged. ‘I’ll not hear any more of this.’
‘If you could only ask him to speak for me…’
‘My son will not be “speaking” for you, nor shall I be speaking further on this matter,’ Sir Humphrey told her with quiet fury. ‘You are to pack your things and leave our service immediately. There’s an omnibus due in an hour. You will meet it at the gate.’ He stood then and Lady Sophia raised her brows as they waited for her to obey but Eve could only stare at them both in disbelief.
‘Leave?’ she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.
‘Immediately,’ Sir Humphrey reiterated coldly, although
he looked uncomfortable as the tears began to stream down her face. ‘No hysterics now, girl. I’m sure you have people back in Liverpool you can turn to.’
Eve managed a nod, sobered even further by the thought of the options left to her now. Liverpool. No longer a word associated with service in a fine house. Now it meant the backstreets. Hardship. Vauxhall.
Sir Humphrey and Lady Sophia waited as she somehow managed to stand and make her way to the door.
‘Oh, and Eve,’ called Lady Sophia as Eve reached the door, ‘tell Molly to fetch the tea before you go…and to bring me my babies. Such a trying day.’
Eve nodded once more, leaving the room and mounting the stairs to pack her things in a daze then wait, hands clenched in her lap until they lost all feeling. Then she descended and left the house to wait at the gate and watch the very last ties to her old world roll by. Molly stood at the window and Eve sensed her victory through the pane. Fetch the tea, bring the dogs, Eve told her silently, too late.
She looked out at the barn where the fine horses were tethered, beside the hunting dogs in their pen. Then her eyes fell to the fields where the fat cattle grazed and the turning forest lay beyond in the mother’s arms, at peace today.
And above it all rose the barren slopes of the gritstone fells, raw against the pale morning sky, marked only by a lone horseman astride a white horse.
Perhaps only a mile, yet an entire world away.
Fourteen
Vauxhall, Liverpool, September 1851
Eve woke with a start as the omnibus door was wrenched open and the driver yelled the destination to the passengers.
Vauxhall. Even as she reinforced it over and again in her mind she still couldn’t believe this was actually where she was supposed to be. Surely this was just a dream, a terrible nightmare. But no, sleep had just been broken and she was wide awake now, standing in the drizzling rain, all her earthly possessions at her feet.
‘Excuse me,’ she called to a woman passing by but she was ignored so she tried a man instead. ‘Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find the old pub on Scottie Road?’
The man paused then laughed, displaying a row of rotting, uneven teeth. ‘Every few yards, love.’ The information was both confusing and unhelpful but he did point her in the direction of the road so Eve set off, figuring it was either do so or stand in the rain and get similar responses. But trying to remember her way back to the old neighbourhood would be a challenge, as tired as she was. She hadn’t been there since she was a small child.
It was difficult work, carrying all her bags, but she didn’t dare ask anyone for help for fear they’d run off with one. Besides, the only money she had was a few shillings and she knew she’d need every penny if she were to survive in this part of town. Scottie Road turned out to be ‘Scotland Road’ and Eve felt foolish for not having remembered such common knowledge, but there was little she recalled in general about this part of town. Although she did remember the smell. It permeated everything; a dank, horrid stench, rancid and almost unbreathable. The road itself was in poor repair and it was impossible to avoid the manure and human waste that lined the edges. Eve was forced to move towards it whenever traffic rolled by.
A pub came into view and she read the sign Ye Olde Alehouse hopefully, peering inside at what didn’t seem too debaucherous a scene for a Saturday night. Then again the town clock had only just struck six.
‘Excuse me,’ she asked one young man as he approached the door, ‘I wonder if you could ask if a Mr Jenkins is within?’
‘Blimey,’ the young man said, grinning at her, ‘what’s a girl like you doin’ ’round ’ere?’
‘Looking for my uncle,’ she said, supposing that might improve her chances of him helping her.
‘Right you are then, miss.’ The young man went in and Eve waited with her bags, trying to appear inconspicuous to the workroughened locals but earning plenty of suspicious stares. The young man returned and gave her a shrug. ‘Not in ’ere, I’m afraid. Sorry, miss.’
‘Oh. Well, thank you,’ she said, picking up her bags and moving on. She tried not to feel disheartened but the same news was returned at Ye Scottie Tavern, Ye Olde Public House, Ye Streets of Scotland Alehouse and a few others besides and the clock was now striking ten as she sat on a low stone fence, exhausted, her bags now seeming almost impossibly heavy. Buses didn’t seem to travel down here and she debated whether or not to spend some of her precious savings on a cab back to the house and ask Mrs Matthews if she might hide overnight in the cellar.
The sounds of wheels approaching made up her mind but disappointingly it wasn’t a cab, it was a large dray making its way along and Eve gathered her skirts close, hoping not to be sprayed with street filth by the wheels, when she recognised the driver. At first she couldn’t place him then something suddenly clicked.
‘Peter? Peter!’ she called, standing to wave.
‘Who’s that then?’ he said, pulling up the horse and peering over at her.
‘It…it’s me, Eve. I met you with Molly…at the market a few weeks ago.’ She pulled off her bonnet to allow him a better view of her face and he frowned for a moment before recognition hit.
‘Oh yeah, Lady Eve,’ he said, grinning and looking her up and down. ‘Watcha doin’ down here then?’
‘I’m…er…looking for Mr Jenkins. My mother’s friend, well, more of an uncle really. He said to find him at the old pub but I’m afraid I don’t know which one he meant.’
Peter stared at her bags then back at her face as she watched him nervously. ‘Running away from ’ome, are ye?’
‘Pretty much, I’m afraid,’ she said, figuring that was probably the best way of putting things for now. She didn’t trust him but at this point she had no-one else to turn to, unless she could find Mr Jenkins or a cab.
‘Well, hop on board then. There’s a few more pubs further on but they’ll mostly be shuttin’ down soon,’ he told her. ‘Jenkins… ain’t he the one who unloads for Joe’s Meats?’ he asked, jumping down to throw her bags on board.
‘I think so,’ Eve said, climbing up on the bench, her legs heavy with the exertion. ‘He works at the markets…and he does have a friend called Joe who sells smoked hams,’ Eve said, remembering.
‘Yeah, I know ’im. Drinks down at the docks on Saturdays. I’m heading down anyways so it looks like tonight’s your lucky night, Lady Eve,’ he said, clicking to the horse as they moved off.
‘Oh…that’s such a relief; you’re too kind.’
‘Can’t ’xactly say no to a damsel in distress. ’Sides, any friend of Molly’s…’ He looked a little too knowing when he said the last but Eve chose not to read into it. All she cared about was finding Mr Jenkins and having somewhere to stow her things and lay her head, safe and secure after this terrible, endless day.
The horse pulled the dray and they cluttered along, passing various drunks and seedy-looking men as they made their way towards the docks. Eve was starting to realise the depths of her good fortune in finding Peter and looked over at him thankfully.
‘So, what is it you’re carrying in the back?’ she asked.
‘Never ask a man what he carries to the docks,’ he muttered darkly, then grinned as her face fell. ‘Just jokin’ there, Lady Eve. Mostly potatoes. It’s what I’m pickin’ up that’s got me out so late.’
‘Never ask a man what he picks up from the docks,’ she guessed and he laughed.
‘Nuh, it’s just some early apples, but they’re so fresh the worms can’t even squeeze their way in,’ he told her and she laughed a little too. It felt strange to do so, after such a day.
The street grew darker and Eve could hear the Mersey now, lapping on its polluted fringes. This was another stench altogether, like they’d taken the Vauxhall brew and added sea salt and rotting fish. Eve wondered momentarily if she would vomit but managed not to. She was hungry, she realised, despite the smell. She couldn’t even remember the last time she ate.
‘Peter,’ she said, thinking to as
k if there was any food to be bought nearby, but he lifted up a hand to silence her and she followed his line of vision. Men were down by the nearest dock and one of them flashed a lantern twice. Peter reached over for his own and flashed a signal back before turning to Eve.
‘Wait ’ere for a mo’,’ he told her quietly. ‘I won’t be long then I’ll take you over to the docks pub and your Mr Jenkins.’
‘Alright,’ Eve said, getting down and preparing to wait. She was so tired by now she could barely stand and she leaned against a large crate, drawing her shawl close. It was the one Mrs Matthews had given her, made from thick Yorkshire wool, but it did little to stem the raw chill in the rising mist. By the time Peter finally returned she felt half frozen.
And hungrier than she’d ever been in her life.
‘Thank goodness! Peter…’
‘Shhh, not now. I have to go see a man about somethin’ first. Just a minute, mind.’ He jumped down from the dray and took off on foot.
‘But I’m starving!’ she called after him.
‘Have an apple,’ he suggested before disappearing in the grey.
Eve went to the back of the dray and lifted a basket lid to find it full of waxy red apples and she took one, biting into its sweet flesh. Peter was right. This apple was so firm and juicy she doubted a worm actually could burrow its way in. She finished it quickly and took a large bite of another, hoping Peter wouldn’t mind.
Her hunger was abating but she was still exhausted and horribly cold so Eve put the apple in her pocket and climbed into the back of the dray. She found a heavy blanket and huddled under it between the baskets, almost comfortable now and grateful. That feeling surprised her. How much she had lost in this past twenty- four hours: life in a great house, the man she loved, her place in the world. Yet, as her father would say, we all have lessons to learn. Eve half-smiled at the memory of his voice, considering that advice from long ago. But you get chances, you see, never forget that.
In a Great Southern Land Page 9
