“Not back yet? I daresay they’ll be along soon.”
“Looks like you need looking after. Come along in, and we’ll raid Papa’s brandy decanter.”
As soon as they were indoors, he collapsed into a chair while Harriet busied herself pouring out a finger of brandy. He accepted the comforting warmth of the alcohol, then jabbed his fingers into his hair. “Oh lord, Harriet. I let her go.”
“Who?”
“Bella.” It hurt to say her name. He felt like he’d been broken in two.
“What do you mean, you let Bella go?” Harriet crouched at his feet, puzzled and anxious.
“Just that. Her brother came to claim her and took her away.”
Harriet gaped a moment. “But how did he find her? You haven’t written yet, have you?” She blinked at him. “I can’t believe she’d just go, without even saying goodbye.”
“Don’t be down-hearted, Hattie—I’m sure she would have said something to you if she’d had the chance. But Lord Henry Sutcliffe can be… most persuasive.”
“Then I dislike him already. Well really, this is the outside of enough.”
“I thought you’d be pleased for her.” He had to force the resentment out of his tone. “You and Georgie always said she was special, out of the common sort.”
“But you thought so too, didn’t you, Jack? I know you did. Was it Mr Finchdean? Did he have anything to do with this?”
If only he’d realised how special. Why had it taken him so long to know his own heart?
He sipped at his brandy. “Apparently not. It seems the Sutcliffes were so sure Bella was in the area, they started making enquiries. The first factory hands they asked denied knowing her, but then they ran across Hickett, and of course, he told them right away—where she lived and everything. If we hadn’t been touring the factory together, they’d have met up with her sooner. In a way, I’m glad I was there when they came. I wouldn’t have wanted her to face them on her own.”
“You didn’t like him, though, did you? Oh Jack, were you right to let her go?”
He stared down, swilling the golden liquid around the glass. “I don’t know, Hattie. I really don’t know.”
“Oh, Jack, you look so sad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so pale. Are you sure you’re quite well?”
“I’m well enough—in body, at least. But I feel… I feel cheated. Once he’d delivered his first shot, Lord Sutcliffe carried on as if I wasn’t even there. I was nothing to him, Hattie—he despised me without even knowing me. I’m damned if I like being patronised. If having wealth always engenders such rudeness, then I’m glad I’m not a lord. It isn’t right, is it, that someone who has probably never done a day’s work in his life should scorn those who have?”
“You work hard, dearest, and it’s right that you should because you’d go mad if you didn’t work. And you know there’s nothing wrong with honest toil. No, I’m sure the man is not worth getting upset over.”
But Bella was. He was going to have to find strength from somewhere, find a way to deal with it, and make himself whole again. If that were even possible.
“I know you’re right, Hattie. Tomorrow, the next day, I’ll be agreeing with you. But at this very moment, I swear, if he upsets Bella, if he hurts her in any way, it will be the last thing he ever does.”
Chapter 47
It was dark when the coach finally rattled into the extensive grounds of Linden Hall. Mrs Hart had to be woken up, and Bella herself was weary and in pain from the constant jostling. Her brother kindly allowed both women early access to their beds and had a light supper sent up to their rooms. Once she’d eaten and washed, Bella slipped between the cool sheets of the great bed and drew them up to her chin. An oil lamp was burning close at hand because she felt too exposed in the large room with its high ceilings to get up and extinguish the light. It was all so new and strange—in the Union, she had been crowded into a busy dormitory with the other girls. At the schoolhouse, she’d had a cosy bedroom of her own. This guestroom in Linden Hall was so big it felt like sleeping out in the open. But fall asleep she did, in the end.
Instead of the sound of factory worker’s clogs on the cobbles and the noise of the hooter, she was awakened by the sound of birdsong outside her window. Still exhausted, she tried to ignore it, but then her sensitive ears picked up the subtle noises of servants moving around the house, cleaning and readying it for the day ahead. When was she supposed to rise, and what she was expected to wear? Where should she go for breakfast? It was a great pity she had woken so early, for the next two hours were spent in an agony of not knowing what was the right thing to do.
Finally, she was rescued by a knock on the door, and a maid came in with her green dress scrubbed and ironed, to ready her for the morning. The woman, in her mid-thirties, told her her name was Watson. Bella found her very reserved compared to the people she was used to. There was something about the serious set of the woman’s mouth that suggested she knew a great deal more than she would ever reveal, and Bella guessed she might not approve of the arrival of a scandalous woman and her illegitimate daughter into this great house. Still, she was good at her job and soon had her new charge in hand.
As Bella wandered uncertainly towards the breakfast room, she prayed she would not disgrace herself in front of her new family. They were both there, these strangers who had every right to intimacy with her. Henry was hidden behind a newspaper, but he lowered it to give his sister a long but not unfriendly stare. Her mother leapt up and took her in a gentle embrace. There was an encouraging smell rising from the covered dishes on the huge polished sideboard, and Bella moved that way to investigate.
Lord Henry clicked his tongue. “Sit yourself down, Isabella. Majors will bring what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want. I need to go and see.” There, she’d established her right to choose. A small victory. Henry rolled his eyes.
There was scrambled eggs and bacon, and a strong-smelling yellow dish with fish which the footman, Majors, told her was kedgeree. There were fried kidneys and rolls, jam and coffee. Surely, they couldn’t afford to break their fast like this every day? Bella looked at her brother, and he nodded slightly without smiling, his eyes showing he knew exactly what she was thinking.
After she’d sampled a small portion of everything, her stomach rebelled. “I’m not sure I like this food all that much. It’s too rich for me.”
“We can’t have you eating bread and gruel, now, can we? Remember, you’re a lady now.”
“Now be kind, Henry.” Sarah gave Bella a warm smile. “You had the same trouble with me when I first arrived. You must understand that people used to simple food cannot always cope well with fine stuff. I’ll direct your eating if you like, dear, until you get used to it. Maybe just eggs on toast tomorrow—no meat.”
“Ha! What would Grandfather Gilbert say to that, I wonder? He’d disown you both.” Henry’s voice was harsh.
“Speaking of Pa, I’m sure he’d love to see Bella, Henry.”
“All in good time, Mother. We have yet to get Isabella—and I’d rather we called her Isabella, please—we have yet to get Isabella suitably dressed. I’ve sent a note into town for Mrs Bull to come to us at eleven.”
Bella clutched at her stomach, her eyes shuttling between her mother and brother.
Sarah looked surprised. “Can she come with so little warning?”
“She’ll come to me if she knows what’s good for her. God, stop pulling such faces, Isabella—go and get a powder from the housekeeper if you’re that dyspeptic.” Henry looked at his mother, and his thin lips curled up at the corners. “At this rate, we’ll be getting green to match her complexion and not her eyes.”
Bella was fidgetting on her chair. Why were her relations referring to her as though she wasn’t even there? This wouldn’t do at all.
“Can you get a powder sent for, Henry? I don’t know where to find the housekeeper. Then when I feel better, I need to have a tour of the house. Mayb
e you could even draw me a map?”
He laughed aloud at this. “That’s it, Isabella—be commanding! I hoped you had it in you to be a lady. It will be very droll watching the changes in her, won’t it, Mother? As for powders, you can send for one yourself. The servants know you are now their mistress. I’ll be gathering them together in the dining room after breakfast for daily prayers—I’ll introduce them all then.”
Well, at least he had the capacity to laugh, even if it was at her expense. She’d started to fear this now brother of hers had no good qualities at all.
But perhaps all he needed was time to get to know her. Whatever he said, she was in no great hurry to change. She liked herself exactly the way she was.
It had helped her to survive.
Chapter 48
A week after her accident, Annie Tullard received a visit from young Mr Henstridge. She’d expected him to be kind, but he shouldered his way through the door, saying, “Well, Miss Tullard, what do you have to say for yourself?”
She took several steps backwards, surprised by his abrupt entrance. But she only said, “I’m right grateful, sir, for you savin’ me. I’d of been mincemeat if it hadn’t of been for you.”
“That’s the truth of it. And you’ve Miss Hart to thank for your rescue as well.” He stood in her tiny parlour, so tall his head nearly brushed the ceiling. But she wasn’t easily intimidated.
“Don’t think I’m not grateful to her’n all sir, ‘cos I am. But she ain’t here for me to thank.”
“Don’t play the hypocrite with me, Miss Tullard. I know all about your history, and Bella Hart’s too. The meaningless, nonsensical bullying that went on. What it proves to me is that she’s a far better person than you’ll ever be, to even think about helping save your sorry hide.”
Annie’s usual bravado was beginning to desert her in the face of this gentleman’s animosity. He wasn’t shouting, or hitting out, or any of the things she was used to, but the look in his eye, the way he held himself, scared her more than anything else. There was something about him that said I can control myself now because I’m much stronger than you. But if I let slip my anger, you wouldn’t like it—you wouldn’t like it at all!
She shivered. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m that sorry. But look how I’ve suffered. Have you seen my poor head? And that hair’s not been cut since I got to be a warder in the Union—it’ll take years before it grows back again.”
In the same quiet, controlled voice, he said, “I hope you’re not thinking of suing for compensation. You know the factory rules—they were read out to you when you started, so you know you’ve openly flouted them by letting your hair loose. What I’ve come to tell you is that you need to mend your ways, Miss Tullard, and you’re going to be mending them a long way from Warbury. I’ve had a word with Betty Froggatt, and Bea as well, so I know all about your involvement in the attack on Miss Hart. Your petty vendetta with that poor young woman stops right here, do you understand?”
Annie was sinking back now, her hands wobbling in the air behind her, trying to find the back of the chair so she could sit down. He was sacking her, when she’d only just begun her new life.
“Don’t expect your friends to support you. They won’t. They know how the land lies. You’re going to pack up your things right now. There’s a man outside who’s going to escort you back to Bristol, back to the precious workhouse where you belong. And if you ever leave it, I’ll get to hear about it, and I’ll just put you right back there. And don’t think of getting even with Miss Hart because she now has friends even more powerful than me. Yes, that’s shaken you, hasn’t it? No, I can’t be bothered to tell you about it—I’ve wasted enough time on you already. Your sort sickens me. There was little trouble here before you came, and it’s going to get back to what it used to be.”
She was sitting now, shaking in her chair. She wanted to scream and rage at this interfering man, but what could she do? She’d brought it on herself, he’d said. But it took two to make a battle, didn’t it? It took two opposite sides to start a war. That bitch Bella wasn’t exactly blameless, but try telling him that. He was clearly sweet on the jumped-up little madam—a gentleman like him! Well, it’d never work. Bella would never fit into his world, and if he hooked up with her, it’d be a mortal blow to his family. It would ruin him. Yes, she rather hoped he would try to marry the bitch because it would serve the both of them right.
Mr Henstridge said no more. He just held her gaze with his, and it wasn’t until she finally nodded her understanding that he turned away and slammed the door behind him.
Chapter 49
There was so much to get used to. Bella knew she should have been happy but fitting into her new position taxed all her reserves of courage. Henry remained a rather distant figure, but Sarah was eager to get to know her long lost daughter better, and their cosy chats were the mainstay of Bella’s days. They shared a small sitting room, cosily furnished, with a view across the sweeping lawns and towards the lake. It was a charmingly feminine room, its main advantage being that Henry rarely came into it.
“When will we be able to see Grandfather?”
Her mama—though Bella was still struggling to call her that—stood by the window. Her head snapped around. “Your grandfather is dead.”
“No, I mean Grandfather Hart, not Lord Linden. I’m dying to meet him. I haven’t had anyone to call me own for so long… I’m that keen to add to me family.”
Her mother winced. “My own, Isabella, not me. You must try to learn to speak properly, for Henry’s sake.”
Bother Henry. “But I’m not talking to him—I’m talking to you.”
“I’m sorry, dearest, but you shouldn’t answer back to me. Henry wouldn’t like it. Certainly not in front of anybody else. You’ll have to curb your plain-speaking if you are to be acceptable in Society.”
“Sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to offend you. I wouldn’t ever want to offend you. But I’m not sure I like all this—I’m not sure I like it at all.”
Sarah Hart had a lovely smile. She bestowed it on Bella, and it warmed her heart. “You will get used to it, love. I’ll help you—I’ll always be there for you, you know that.”
“But what about Grandpa Hart, anyway? Can we go and see him when we go into town for my new gowns?” Was she being too greedy, wanting even more new family? Or did she, perhaps, hope the butcher-grandfather might be a bit easier to get along with than those she now thought of as ‘The Sutcliffes’.
“Perhaps. I have to tell you—Henry is a little sensitive on the subject of our lowly origins. It is as well not to remind him of them.”
“But Mr Hart is his grandfather too—surely he speaks to him?”
“Between you and me, Isabella, I don’t think Henry knows how to speak to a butcher. To him he’s a tradesman—and it’s people like his cook, his housekeeper and his butler who deal with tradesmen. Also, you must remember that the Sutcliffes did their best to put Pa out of business after the scandal between their Charlie and me. They poisoned Henry’s mind against the Harts.”
That was no surprise. “So why did Henry take me on, then? By his reckoning, knowing where I was brought up, I’m even lower in status than a butcher.”
Her mother moved away from the window and stood or her. “But you’re young, you’re female, and you’re malleable. You’re clever too—anyone can see that. My father is not the brightest of men, even if he is a good man. He’s not the sort of person Henry would want you to associate with.”
“Blast Henry! Does he want to make my life better, or ruin it?”
Bella’s mother sank into a chair and fanned herself with her hand. “Isabella, I know you’ve known little apart from the workhouse, but please do not use that sort of language in front of me, or anyone else for that matter. The past has to be put behind you. If it had been a happy one, you might want to remain in it. But it wasn’t, was it? So that past is best left behind. Can you do that for me, dear?”
Bella looked at her mama’s wo
rried expression. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “I want to do something about the better bits of it though—write to my friends and tell them of my good luck, let them know all’s well with me. I never got around to it when I got to Warbury because everything just seemed to happen at once and I was too busy.”
“I, too, have spent time in the workhouse. I got out for a while—I was pretty, and good with my hands, and managed to secure a genteel position as a lady’s maid. Then the death of my mistress propelled me back into the workhouse again. Which memories do you think I cherish the most? I’d rather forget the workhouse ever existed. But I do understand how you feel, so I’ll help you.”
She stood up, and her silk skirts rustled as she moved. Bella’s eyes followed her mother’s graceful movements as she walked across to her bureau. She thought she was still a good-looking woman, despite her troubles.
Bella got up too and wandered across to the window. She was beginning to feel cooped up here and bored—she was used to being active for most of the day, and occupying her time in the evening doing useful chores as well, so the indolent lifestyle of the upper classes did not suit her at all. Then she saw what her mother had taken from the bureau and was holding out to her, and her eyes widened.
“What a lovely box!”
Her mama smiled. “It’s from me, a present to you. Bring it over to the table and see what’s inside.”
It was a travelling writing box. There was a pewter-stoppered ink bottle, a sheaf of writing paper, a blotter and several pen holders. But the best object was made of a shiny yellow metal and contained several delicate pen nibs all tucked together.
“It’s real gold,” said her mother. “So, take good care of it.”
“I’ll write to Miss Ainsty, and Lucy, and everyone. Oh lord, I should have written to them ages ago. I meant to… only you must help me work out how to address them for I don’t know. I might need a little bit of help, as I’ve never written a letter in me… in my life before.”
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