by Diane Allen
‘You see, that’s where I went wrong. I never got remarried after I lost my Harry, so now I’m in this pickle, with no one to care for me. You’ll be alright when you are old; that Jim Pratt you married is a good man, and he will always be there to look after you. I’m not daft, you know – I know you want me out from under your feet. I’m neither use nor ornament, with my failing sight, so you needn’t say no more.’ Peggy Batty sniffed and then wiped her tear-filled eyes.
‘What’s all this about?’ Mazy entered the kitchen and went over to kneel by the side of Mrs Batty, whom she had grown to love in her years of service with her. She held her hand tightly as the old woman sobbed.
‘Mistress Atkinson has offered Mrs Batty her own cottage, down at the locks, and I’ve been trying to convince her that it would be ideal for her to take up the offer.’ Ruby shook her head as Mazy smiled at the stubborn old woman and pulled up a stool to sit next to her.
‘So, what’s all the tears for? A cottage – I’d die for one, instead of living in that cramped room of mine up in the rafters. I’d be able to have my own furniture and have my friends around. Go shopping in Settle when I wanted, and come back when I wanted.’ Mazy squeezed Mrs Batty’s hand.
‘Aye, but you are still young, and I’m an old woman and my eyesight is getting worse with each day. I know my way around here. I know every nook and cranny, and I know you lot will look after me.’ Peggy sniffed.
‘You know, Mrs Batty, you’ve seen me grow up from being a brash, foul-mouthed scullery maid up to being nanny for Miss Isabelle and Master Danny, and then up to housekeeper. But I would do anything to have a home of my own, like Ruby and her old man has, and like you are being offered. You can make it your home, and you’ll not be on your own, for we will call in nearly every day.’ Mazy knew that more time was being spent on looking after Mrs Batty than the kitchen could afford, and she also knew it would only be a matter of time before the old cook would miss a step and fall the full length of the servants’ stairs.
‘It doesn’t seem five minutes since you came into this kitchen, Mazy. Aye, you were a handful, and now look at you: a fine young woman with nearly as many airs and graces as the mistress herself. It’s a pity you can’t find yourself a man. I suppose it’s getting too late for you now.’ Mrs Batty smiled, wiping away her tears. ‘You are both right, and I’m an ungrateful old woman. You’ve got young Nancy to help out in the kitchen, and she’ll peel the veg and help wash the pots when I’ve gone.’ She sighed deeply.
Mazy leaned back and looked at the crestfallen cook, who had slightly upset her with her talk of Mazy still being a single woman. It was true that she hadn’t been lucky enough to find herself a man, but she wasn’t worried, for she preferred her own company. ‘Nancy, put the kettle on and make us all a cup of tea. I think we are all in need of refreshment.’ Mazy looked over to the young lass, who was sniggering to herself as she washed the breakfast pots in the sink.
‘Yes, Miss.’ Nancy bobbed and filled the kettle, before putting it on the range to boil.
‘Now, I’ve a bit of news for us all. Something that the mistress will be worrying about, I’m sure.’ Mazy waited.
‘Well, go on, tell us what it is!’ Ruby quickly finished putting the lid on her apple pie and brushed it with egg-wash, before placing it in the range’s oven and sitting down on the chair on the other side of the table from Mazy and Mrs Batty.
‘We are to entertain Harriet Armstrong on Sunday – she’s coming to tea. It would seem that Master Daniel is quite serious about her. It must be causing his father and mother some worry, with her working for Dora Bloomenber.’ Mazy watched as Mrs Batty’s mouth widened as she took in the news.
‘Oh, the poor mistress, she’ll not want anyone linked with that family courting young Daniel. It will bring memories of the past rushing back,’ Mrs Batty gasped.
‘All Settle was agog when Ezera Bloomenber married Dora Dodgson, and then it turned out she was the late Mr Dawson’s sister. I remember her walking around the market once and everyone was whispering about her behind her back.’ Ruby took her cup of tea and sipped deeply.
‘Well, let’s hope she doesn’t bring any troubles to the family. They don’t deserve any more worries.’ Mazy sighed.
‘We’ll not have to judge the lass until we get to know her. After all, Dora is not Harriet’s parent; it’s just that Harriet works at the shop, and old Ezera was a good man. It would be him that employed her, before he died the other year. But if that woman manages to worm her way back into this house, through young Harriet, then I’m glad I’m leaving it,’ Peggy Batty exclaimed.
‘So you’ve made your mind up then?’ Ruby quizzed.
‘Aye, you are all right. I’d need my head examining, if I turn down my own little cottage and it’s already furnished, even though I know it was the one Betsy Foster lived in. But I’m not afeared of any ghosts that might haunt the place. Gertie Potts will keep an eye on me, she’s a good woman. And I’ll get out from under all of your feet. I’m not daft, I know I’m a nuisance sometimes.’
The kitchen went quiet; old Mrs Batty might be nearly blind, but she definitely wasn’t daft, and nothing went over her head. She’d be missed.
‘Well, Harriet, it’s a pleasure to have you join us for tea this afternoon.’ Charlotte looked across at the young girl who had stolen Danny’s heart and smiled. She watched Harriet as she glanced quickly at Danny before replying.
‘The pleasure’s all mine. I couldn’t believe it when Danny said I had to join him for tea this afternoon.’ Harriet smiled shyly, aware that all eyes were upon her.
‘Had to join him – I do hope he didn’t make you come here.’ Charlotte sipped her tea from the delicate bone china and looked across at the nervous young woman, trying to forget who Harriet worked for. She’d still have preferred any other girl to be on Danny’s arm, and she was hoping that if she was cool towards Harriet, then she would be put off from courting her stepson.
‘Sorry, it’s my clumsiness with words. He didn’t say I had to, just would I wish to join him, and of course I was delighted to accept. You have such a beautiful home, and I wanted so much to meet you all. Danny is always talking about you.’ Harriet blushed.
‘You are never clumsy with words, my dear. It’s Mother being pernickety. Did you know, Mother, that Harriet made the beautiful dress she’s come in today? Do you not think it is a lovely creation?’ Danny beamed at his love by his side.
‘Did you really, Harriet? I think it’s beautiful. I love the delicate lace around the sleeves. I wish I could sew.’ Isabelle latched onto the conversation, trying to defuse the frosty looks between her brother and her mother. The dress was pretty and could have fooled anyone into thinking it was sewn by an experienced seamstress. However, Isabelle thought she herself would have added a lot more detail to the bodice.
‘Really, Isabelle, you could sew, if you put your mind to it. After all, you are very adept at art, and designing a dress is second nature to you. I’ve seen those endless sketches that litter your room. Harriet’s dress is beautiful – a simple dress made different with a few lace accessories that make it look a little special.’ Charlotte rattled her cup down onto her saucer.
‘Well, I think tha looks right bonny in it, lass. You are to be congratulated on it. You should start your own tailoring shop – give Ralph’s on Chapel Street a run for their money. God knows, they’ve had enough money from the women of this house in their time,’ Archie blustered, before being kicked under the table by Charlotte for stepping out of line.
‘I’ve always wanted to have my own shop. I’d love to be able to design and sew dresses all day, but unfortunately my parents think it a frivolity and something I could not make any money from. Besides, I work for Dora Bloomenber and I am happy there. I shouldn’t complain.’ Harriet quickly took a delicate mouthful of cake, stopping herself from mentioning the name of her employer again, a subject that Danny had told her not to approach.
It was too late, for Ch
arlotte saw an opportunity to quiz Harriet further about the family that employed her.
‘Do you have a lot to do with Dora Bloomenber? I’ve heard people say that she treats you like a daughter.’ Charlotte could not stop herself; it was best she got everything out in the open.
‘I see her perhaps once a week. I miss Ezera, he was such a kind man. He treated me like his daughter, only because they have no family of their own. Mrs Bloomenber can be a little cool sometimes, and not as open as Ezera used to be. But can I say that I know your concerns, if I am not speaking out of turn. Danny has told me not to speak of them today, but I feel I must. To put your minds at ease, more than anything. I am here under no false pretence – my love for Danny is true. It is not because of Mrs Bloomenber’s scheming and her past links with your family. Indeed, she did not know who Danny was, until he picked me up from the shop on the day of Isabelle’s party. I had never mentioned him until that afternoon. She was interested in Isabelle reaching twenty-one, and I believe she has sent you a gift, Isabelle, which she thought rightly belonged to you. I took it to the post office myself, on her behalf.’
Harriet breathed in, after giving a quick glance at Isabelle, who looked as black as thunder. It was up to the family now; they all could either like her and make her welcome or ask her to leave straight away. Either way, Danny would stick by her, of that she was sure.
‘Well, you certainly say it as it is, Miss Armstrong. You hold nothing back, which is to be commended. I’ve got to say that there is bad blood between our families and, as you are no doubt aware, Mrs Bloomenber is – unfortunately – Isabelle’s aunt.’ Charlotte was taken aback by the straight-talking girl, for up to that moment she had thought there was not much to the milksop on Danny’s arm. ‘Isabelle, did you receive a gift from Dora Bloomenber and, if you did, why didn’t you tell me?’
All eyes turned on Isabelle as she lowered her head and fiddled with her napkin.
‘Yes, I did; it came in the post the other afternoon, like Harriet said.’ Isabelle looked across at her brother in hope of support, but he didn’t acknowledge the pleading look in her eyes.
‘And where is it now?’ Charlotte asked.
‘It’s hidden in the bedding box in my bedroom. I didn’t tell you, Mother, because I knew it would upset you.’ Isabelle looked straight at her mother.
‘No more secrets! I am sick of this family holding back secrets. Now tomorrow, Isabelle, you and I will return in person whatever Dora has given you, for we do not want anything from that family. Harriet, I am grateful for your frankness, but if you go out of your way ever to hurt a member of my family, you will live to regret the day you came across me and mine. Now have I made myself clear to everyone?’
The table went quiet as everyone realized just how protective Charlotte was.
The silence was broken by Archie. ‘Bloody hell, lass, poor Harriet will never want to see any of us ever again, if you lose your temper like that. I’d run for it now, lass, while you can – make a break for the door.’ He winked at the newcomer to the family and noticed Danny squeezing her hand tightly.
‘I’ve no intention of running, Mr Atkinson. I love Danny, and he me. I know I’m your worst nightmare and, believe me, if I can find another job I will, just to ease your minds and distance myself from Dora Bloomenber. I’d do anything to keep my Danny.’ Harriet smiled at her beau.
Charlotte put her napkin down. ‘I’m sorry, let us continue with our tea, now that we know exactly where we stand with one another. Harriet, my apologies. I’m not usually so rude to our guests, but your association with Dora Bloomenber has caused me some worries. And, Isabelle, I thought you’d know better; but not to worry – least said, soonest mended. We will visit your aunt in the morning and satisfy any curiosity you may feel about her. Now, another slice of cake, anyone? Let us now welcome Harriet to the family properly and show her that we don’t always argue.’ Charlotte pushed the cake in front of her and sighed. Isabelle had let her down; she could be as secretive as her father, and that was a bad trait to have.
Charlotte and Isabelle stood on the immaculately scrubbed steps of Ingfield House, waiting for the bell that they had rung to be answered. The house stood along the roadside into Settle, square and solid, with pillars on either side of the doorway. The garden around it was tended to within an inch of its life, and the curtains at the windows told of the wealth within, leaving passers-by in no doubt that the owners were well-to-do people.
‘Nobody’s in, Mother, let us go. It will save Jethro waiting for us.’ Isabelle’s stomach was churning, for she was about to face the aunt whose shadow she now knew had cursed her family all her life.
‘Nonsense, give the maid time. Harriet said Dora was always at home on a Monday. It’s no good getting cold feet now; it’s time to face your beloved aunt. I must admit I’m curious to talk to her. I haven’t spoken to Dora since your father walked out. Although I have seen her around Settle, I ignore her and walk across to the other side of the street when I can. Besides, she keeps herself to herself, from what I hear. It’s best that she does so, for people have long memories in this part of the world.’ Charlotte whispered the last few words, as she heard the faint patter of feet from behind the door with its highly polished brassware.
‘Good morning, ma’am. May I help you?’ the pretty maid enquired with a curtsey.
‘Yes, we would like to see Mrs Bloomenber. Here is my calling card. We will wait in the hallway.’ Charlotte pushed past the young maid, with Isabelle hard behind her.
‘Very well, ma’am. I’ll tell her you are waiting.’ The maid opened the doorway into the Bloomenbers’ drawing room and left the guests standing in the hall.
Isabelle gazed around the hall; it was not as large as Windfell’s, but it was grand, with elegant ornaments and rich paintings. Her aunty was obviously a woman of wealth. Charlotte patted her daughter’s hand as she watched Isabelle’s complexion drain when the maid returned.
‘Mrs Bloomenber says to please join her in the drawing room.’ The maid left the door open as they passed her and, once they were within the room, she closed the doors.
‘So, Charlotte, you’ve decided to give me a visit, after all these years.’ A voice with a slight Lancashire accent came from behind a high-backed chair that was turned towards the fireplace, the centrepiece of the high-ceilinged room.
‘I have, Dora, and I’ve also brought Isabelle to see you and to return the gift that you sent her. You can understand why I wish her not to accept it. Your brother did not actually leave my life, or Isabelle’s, on good terms.’ Charlotte moved forward and ushered Isabelle with her, until they both stood in front of the woman that Charlotte had once hated. Twenty-one years ago she had been afraid of Dora, frightened of the hold she had over her husband and of the way Dora had always made her feel small. Now the woman had no such hold, and Charlotte was looking at a frail, grey-haired old lady. However, looks could be deceiving and, as Jethro had reminded her, a leopard never changes its spots.
‘I thought you’d have something to say about it. But it was the girl’s birthday, and her father would have wanted her to have something. Come here, girl, let me have a look at you.’ Dora beckoned Isabelle to stand in front of her and grinned when she saw her. ‘Aye, you are your father’s alright – look at that black mop. Got your mother’s eyes, though, those soft, come-to-bed eyes that caught our Joseph with their fluttering lashes. Sent him to his death, they did, along with the whinging and whining.’
‘I’m not stopping to listen to this. I did nothing – it wasn’t I who killed him; Joseph managed to do that himself. Along with poor Betsy Foster, whom he killed. Are you forgetting her? And are you forgetting that you walked out on him, too? Both you and I know that Joseph was bad to the core. Just why you thought we would want his mother’s necklace, I don’t know; after all, was she not a prostitute?’ Charlotte stood her ground and watched as the woman she had hated for years leered at Isabelle. ‘Give her the necklace back, Isabelle, and let�
��s go. I can see I’ve wasted my breath, thinking that time might have changed her.’
Isabelle held out the box containing the necklace, and Dora snatched it from her hand. ‘You’re the image of your father; you’ll remind your mother of him every day. Deep and dark, good at secrets, are you? He always were a real Pandora’s box, apart from there was no hope for him, and I bet you are the same.’ Dora clung on to Isabelle’s arm as she recoiled from the old woman’s clutches.
‘Isabelle, come with me. Don’t listen to her; she was always whispering poison into people’s ears. I hoped that she’d changed.’ Charlotte grabbed Isabelle’s hand and led her to the drawing-room door.
‘That’s it: run away to the mansion you stole from my brother, and take your bitch of a daughter with you. You’ll have enough headaches when Harriet marries your lad – she’s a money-grabber. And that ’un, by your side, I’m sure you know by now is her father’s daughter. It’s as clear as that mop on her head,’ Dora shouted from behind her chair.
Isabelle turned and pulled her hand out of her mother’s, then strode back to the old woman who was spouting those hurtful words, and stood full-on in front of her.
‘I’m not like my father, and never will be. I love my mother and, no matter what you say or do to our family, we will always be strong. You can just leave Harriet alone; she loves Danny, and I hope that they will be happy. Happier than you will ever have been. And as for the necklace, did you think you could buy me? I’m worth a lot more than that. I’m not like my father; money isn’t everything, and I care for the ones I love. One of which you will never be.’ Isabelle grabbed the necklace case from Dora’s knee and threw it against the marble fireplace, spilling the pendant out of the case and watching as the fake precious stones shattered against the marble. ‘Fake, just like you; fake like my father,’ Isabelle said quietly, staring at the old woman who wanted to control their lives.
