A Daughter's Price

by Emma Hornby

  ‘Well, that depends on exactly his condition.’

  ‘He gets pains. And breathlessness, aye.’

  ‘Well, now. If it’s attacks wrought by nervousness, a tonic diet and change of air will calm his excitement. Palpitations of the heart can also arise from indigestion?’ she added when Laura shook her head – but this second suggestion she, too, dismissed. ‘Another cause of rapid pulse easily remedied is that of a luxurious lifestyle or indolence?’

  ‘Nay, nay.’ Laura was emphatic. ‘We ain’t the brass for high living. As for indolence … Father’s the least lazy person I know. Works his fingers to the bone, he does, allus has. It can’t be through that, neither, why he’s suffering.’

  ‘Right. Well. I’m guessing his symptoms ain’t on account of corsets being laced too tightly … Therefore, it might be a plethoric cause.’

  Laura’s blood turned cold at the frightful-sounding disorder. ‘What’s that?’ she forced herself to ask, dreading the answer.

  ‘Too much bodily fluid. He’ll need a purgative.’ With this, the herb woman selected a small jar from her collection and unscrewed the lid. Then she reached beneath her shawl and drew out a long chain hanging around her neck, attached to which was a tiny silver spoon. A scrap of cloth from her skirt pocket followed, and she spooned into it from the jar a small amount of the green, powdery concoction. After gathering the material into a pouch and securing the top with a length of string, she held it out to Laura and smiled. ‘Guaranteed, God willing, to do your father the world of good. Go on, take it.’

  Though tempted, Laura hesitated. Could she really trust her? She’d heard talk of this type of people, quacks and their ilk, who made a living off the backs of folks’ desperation. They would promise you the moon – for an extortionate price, of course – when most of the time their miracle cures were nothing more than a useless mixture of random ingredients, void of any health benefits whatsoever. And those with sick loved ones or suffering from their own ailments fell over themselves to procure these ‘medicines’, clung to the shred of hope that they would work, only to discover too late that all they had got was duped. Unsurprisingly, the law came down on these charlatans heavily.

  Profiting from people’s misery; was it possible to sink any lower? Frowning, Laura let her arm drop back to her side.

  Sensing her uncertainty and the reason why, the woman took Laura’s hand and pressed the pouch into it. ‘No charge this time, lass.’

  ‘But …’ Now, guilt replaced her mistrust. ‘I can’t let you do that. After all, you have a living to make and—’

  ‘No charge,’ she repeated quietly, kindly, and hope returned to Laura, threatening to overwhelm her.

  ‘It’ll really work?’ she whispered. ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘Oh, a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that. The main ingredient, mind …’

  Laura was entranced. There was something about this old woman, something behind her sharp hazel gaze that spoke of something higher, some deeper wisdom that most couldn’t reach. She dropped her voice further. ‘Aye?’

  ‘The purple foxglove.’

  ‘Oh.’ The large-belled, spire-shaped bloom, indigenous to the region, grew some four and five feet tall along hedges and copses. Though beautiful, hearing that what she’d anticipated to be some magical, mysterious component was but a humble plant deflated her a little, and the woman laughed.

  ‘Ay now. You and many afore you underappreciate it. But us traditional folk, us herb wenches, we know, aye. The medicinal properties of wild foxglove in dropsy – and on the heart – are well proven, lass. Many a soul have we cured, where doctors have failed, from the dried leaves of yon flower. Gather it myself, I do, from yonder on the city’s outskirts, just afore blossoming time.’

  ‘It ain’t dangerous, then?’

  ‘Oh aye, that it can be in the wrong hands, which is why it don’t get the merit from our modern medical men it deserves. Mind, if it ain’t misused and the dosage is right, it’ll do what it’s meant to without mishap.’

  ‘And this here you’ve made and measured up …’ She held the cloth aloft. ‘It’ll definitely not harm Father?’

  ‘It’ll not.’

  What did they have to lose? Laura nodded acceptance. ‘What do I do with it? How is it administered?’

  ‘You’re to prepare it as a single dose of foxglove tea. Add to boiled water, lass, with a little sugar to sweeten if your father so prefers. He’s to sup a dram of it, which will bring on violent vomiting. Pass water more frequent, he will, an’ all. It’s the purge he needs. The badness must be flushed out, you see?’

  It sounded dreadful. Laura nonetheless nodded again.

  ‘A very active medicine it is,’ the woman continued, ‘but one that shall fetch relief, you have my word on that. Afterwards, he’s to abstain so far as he’s able from owt that could have the condition return: fermented liquor, aye, and animal food should be avoided especially. Too much sleep will do him no good, neither. You’ll remember all that, lass?’

  ‘Aye yes, I think so.’

  ‘You’ll find me here each week – Widow Jessop’s the name. Just you come and see me, should tha have the need to.’

  ‘Thank you. Truly.’ Tears blurred Laura’s vision. She blinked them back and flashed a watery smile. ‘My father … He’s my all.’

  ‘It’s lucky he is to have thee. Now, run along home to him,’ she instructed. ‘Take care, lass.’

  Glory be to God, her father had never been a big drinker, so there were no worries on that score regarding abstinence. As for his grub, she’d ask Bridget to plan him a special diet, Laura determined as she hurried back through the increasingly busy streets for home. She’d have to confide in the maid his trouble, must if she was to have the other woman’s cooperation, but would swear her to secrecy. The less her uncle knew, the better. Mind you, should Ambrose query why his brother was eating differently to them at mealtimes … Well, she’d think of something, would cross that bridge when they came to it.

  All in all, the morning had been a successful one. Her own heart lighter than it had been for a good long while, she hurried her step towards the coal yard. She’d stash her new working clothes there ready for later, save her uncle spotting the bundle upon her return to the house, she reasoned. His overseer would have opened up by now in readiness for the day’s toil; fingers crossed, she’d be able to slip in and out without detection.

  Passing through the gates, Laura made for the huddle of lean-tos that served as stables. Only a handful of workers were present at this hour and, though one or two who now recognised her touched their caps in greeting, no one enquired of her business.

  When she reached Kenneth’s stall she let herself in and breathed a sigh of relief. Making for the far wall, she buried the package beneath a pile of straw then went to stroke the horse, who stood, watching her curiously.

  ‘Morning, lad.’ She patted his thick neck affectionately. ‘You’ll not tell on me, will thee?’ she said with a wink and a smile.

  ‘What would he have to tell, then?’

  Laura whipped her head around at the booming question – and seeing Nathan’s grinning face, her own relaxed. She wagged a finger at him in mock-sternness. ‘Ain’t anyone ever told thee it’s rude to eavesdrop? Not to mention creeping up on folk; near caused me an injury there, tha did.’

  ‘Sorry, miss.’

  ‘Laura, remember?’

  His grin returned. He nodded. ‘Sorry, Laura.’

  She smiled back, and it grew when she remembered the pouch she still held. She grasped Nathan’s sleeve, saying excitedly, ‘I purchased medicine from the market, lad. For Father. For his heart. The herb woman assured me it’s known to work wonders.’

  His eyes softened with sympathy at her fervour. ‘Aye? What’s in it?’

  ‘Foxglove, would tha believe. Reet good for the heart, so says she.’

  ‘Well, you can but try, eh?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Good luck with it, Laura. I�
��d best get back to my work afore the boss man catches me loitering.’

  Her face fell. ‘Uncle Ambrose is here already?’ At his nod, she motioned to the door. ‘I’d better be getting along with thee – I’d rather he didn’t see me, neither.’ Quickly, she told Nathan of the clothing she’d hidden. ‘Father, he’d rather that Uncle Ambrose didn’t know I’m accompanying him on his rounds.’

  Nathan nodded understanding. Then his slow grin returned, spreading across a boyish face fresh and clear of muck at this early hour and crinkling eyes now holding a wicked glint. ‘I can’t wait to see thee in your new rig-out.’

  ‘Get away with you,’ she chuckled, ushering him from the stall and following him into the yard. ‘It’s a sight I’ll look, all right. Mind, I care naught for that really, so long as it eases Father’s burden, even just a little.’

  ‘Amos is lucky to have thee,’ Nathan told her with feeling. He’d paused to look at her, eyes suddenly serious. They deepened with intensity as they stared at one another, and Laura felt something she hadn’t known for a long time stir within her. She dropped her gaze and cleared her throat, both surprised and embarrassed.

  ‘The herb wench reckons he’s lucky, an’ all,’ she said, for want of something to break the charged silence. ‘It’s the other way around, if you ask me. He’s a father in ten million. Gone above and beyond for me, he has, since all the trouble—’ She clamped her mouth shut, horrified that she’d let her tongue run away with itself.

  A frown appeared to tug at Nathan’s brow but, if he intended to question her comment, he didn’t get the chance – Ambrose, striding towards them, looking none too pleased, shattered the moment. Laura didn’t know whether to be relieved at this or not.

  ‘Interrupting summat, am I?’

  Concealing the medicine in the folds of her shawl, she masked her disconcertedness with a smile. ‘Nay, ’course not, Uncle Ambrose.’

  The older man turned to Nathan, saying darkly, ‘You, back to your work. Now.’ And when he’d gone: ‘You’re early,’ he remarked to Laura, gaze narrowing slightly in suspicion.

  ‘I thought I’d show willing. I had to visit the market this morning and, well … I reasoned I might as well come straight here afterwards, make an early start in t’ office, like.’ She could feel colour creeping up her neck at the deception but did her best to keep her tone light. ‘You don’t mind, do yer, Uncle Ambrose?’

  He folded his arms across his huge chest, his eyes turning to slits. ‘So? Where are they?’

  Laura blinked in confusion. ‘Where are what?’

  ‘Your purchases? From the market?’

  ‘I … They didn’t have what I needed after all. No matter,’ she added, smiling, and turned for the office, lest he spot the flustered blush now staining her cheeks, too. ‘I’ll get on to my work, then. Can I brew thee some tea afore I begin?’

  He didn’t answer. Instead, to her dismay, he followed in silence, his heavy tread seeming to match his mood. When they were inside he closed the door and stood with his back to it, watching her as she flitted to the low cupboard for cups. Then: ‘What was it tha needed that the market couldn’t cough up? They sell everything a body could ever want or need down Smithfield’s.’

  She kept her back to him. ‘It’s … private.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘It just is.’

  ‘Why?’

  Reaching the end of her endurance, she spun on her heel to face him. ‘Uncle Ambrose, please. You’re embarrassing me.’

  ‘Embarr—?’

  ‘It was … female things I needed, is all,’ she cut in, hoping the lie would work and he’d leave the matter be. Lord, he was like a dog with a bone …

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Shifting from foot to foot, he looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  Laura returned her attention to the task at hand. ‘Would tha like a sup, then, Uncle Ambrose?’

  ‘Aye. ’Ere, lass …’ He stepped towards her with a crooked smile. ‘I shouldn’t be shoving my nose into your business. Sorry.’

  Swallowing her relief, she smiled back and motioned her head in acceptance of his apology.

  ‘I really am sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right— Oh.’ The last word was smothered in Ambrose’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him in a too-tight embrace.

  Her body stiffening with awkwardness and growing unease, her arms remained by her sides as she waited the moment out. Finally, he released her, and she turned back hurriedly to the tea-making. Behind her, his breathing had quickened and she just knew his eyes were on her – she could feel his stare like two hot embers boring into her flesh. Then, as it always did, her mind told her she was being ridiculous, imagining things – she was his niece, for God’s sake – and what was wrong with her at all to keep conjuring up these wild and mucky notions? It was sick, that’s what. And still …

  ‘I’ll not bother with the tea after all,’ said Ambrose, breaking through her thoughts, and she released her breath.

  Seconds later, he was gone; she closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she straightened her shoulders and got started with her work. Father would be arriving any time now. She must be ready to greet him naturally, with a smile. His state of well-being depended on it.

  I’m just being silly. As the minutes ticked on, the rational side of her brain repeated the mantra. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop her flesh from creeping, as though home to an army of insects, at the memory of her uncle’s touch.

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘SO, HOW DO I look?’

  ‘That young lad back at the yard’s taken a fancy to thee.’

  ‘What?’ Laura had been twisting in her seat on the cart, arms outstretched, showing off her new working clothes. Now, she straightened up and, ignoring the flush of red that sprang to her face, repeated, ‘What?’

  ‘Yon lad – Nathan, is it?’

  Not trusting herself to look at her father, she kept her gaze on the uniform row of houses they were passing.

  ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at thee. If you ain’t, lass, tha must be blind.’

  ‘He seems a nice enough lad …’ She shrugged. ‘It matters not either way.’

  ‘And why’s that, then?’

  ‘Because I’ll never shackle myself to another fella as long as I breathe.’

  Amos said nothing for a few minutes. When finally he spoke again, his tone was low but firm. ‘I’ll not be around for ever, lass.’

  ‘Father?’

  ‘I’ll not see thee cast into this world alone. Not all men are cut from the same cloth as Adam Cannock. Promise me you’ll remember that.’

  Laura felt tears prick. She knew this, of course she did. She’d been unlucky was all. She should have listened to her judgement – her father’s judgement. He’d seen through him from the off. The Cannock brothers. Her stomach did a few unpleasant flips at the thought of the two siblings still living. Had they given up on her? Were they still hell-bent on exacting revenge? She hadn’t the answer, just her prayers that she was free of them at last to keep her going. Pushing their snarling faces away, she switched her thoughts back to the young man who toiled at the coal yard.

  Nathan was handsome, she had to admit. And he did seem to have taken a liking to her – something her uncle had also noticed, though he clearly wasn’t as accepting of this as his brother was. What was Ambrose’s problem at all with his employee? He seemed to detest his very presence. Or was it that he resented Nathan’s attention towards her because he himself …? Stop, she told her warped musings yet again. Just please stop with this madness!

  ‘Hold up there, lad.’ At Amos’s command, Kenneth obeyed immediately and the cart rumbled to a halt outside their first customer’s abode. ‘Ready, lass?’

  Nodding, Laura hopped to the pavement, mind now firmly on the job at hand. Her task, her father’s health, meant more than all her worries combined. She just hoped he’d agree to take the foxglove tea when she put it to him tomorrow. Being Sunday and thus a day of re
st, he’d be able to deal with the sickness that the medicine brought on better at home. Please, please, let it work …

  Arriving back at the yard some time later, the cart now carrying but a pile of empty sacks, they saw Nathan apparently waiting for them; he made his way towards them with his ready smile, and Amos nudged Laura with a knowing look.

  ‘Father, please,’ she murmured, her earlier blush resurfacing. Nevertheless, she couldn’t quell the secret spark of pleasure. Her own lips stretched a greeting when the young man stopped by her side of the cart. ‘All’s well?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye.’ Nathan nodded, cleared his throat loudly. ‘I erm, wondered … well, what I wanted to ask—’

  ‘Spit it out, lad,’ cut in Amos. There was definite amusement in his eyes.

  Nathan’s cheeks bloomed with colour. He turned once more to Laura. ‘Could I …? What I mean is, would you … Would you like to come out with me some time?’ he asked on a rush. ‘The People’s Concert Hall is an all right night, have some good acts on at the weekend. Mind, it can get a bit lively at times …’Course, we can try somewhere else if you prefer? Or … or we could go forra walk? Not that there’s many places to go where it’s pleasant round here, mind … Or we could—’

  Again, it was Amos who broke through his speech: ‘She’d like that,’ he answered for her. ‘Wouldn’t you, lass?’

  ‘Father, please,’ Laura beseeched again, face now ablaze. Meeting Nathan’s expectant gaze, she was loath to disappoint him, but this needed nipping in the bud here and now. As she’d said before, she wanted no truck with the opposite sex ever again. It just wasn’t worth it. The lies, pain, crushing heartache, the danger … She’d suffered more than her share where men were concerned; she wouldn’t put herself through that once more, however nice he seemed. That’s how it started, after all. That’s how Adam had been at first. God, how wrong she’d been then. She’d rather face a lifetime of loneliness than risk it. Oh, she would. ‘Nathan, listen …’

  ‘You don’t have to give me an answer right away, nay. Think on it awhile—’

  ‘I don’t need to.’ She lifted her chin and, though her words were not unkind, her tone was firm: ‘Sorry, lad, but the answer’s no.’