The Windfell Family Secrets

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The Windfell Family Secrets Page 18

by Diane Allen


  ‘He works up at Ferndale then?’ Sidgwick quizzed.

  ‘Aye, he does at the moment, in the carding room. I wouldn’t have him working for me, for he’ll never be satisfied with what he’s got. He’s just one of those that thinks he knows better than anyone else. Yet he knows nowt.’

  ‘Lot of them about.’ Sidgwick smiled and then went back into his corner and savoured his pint, before going to see his close friend Dora Bloomenber.

  ‘So, John, as you suspected, the year’s not been good to you. I read all about High Mill being closed, in the local rag. They like to kick a man when he’s down, don’t they?’ Dora sat back in her chair and sipped her brandy, looking slowly across at her brother’s onetime best friend.

  ‘Aye, well, you know all about that. They are like a dog with a bone – they never let anything drop.’ John Sidgwick leaned forward in his chair and warmed his hands in the baking heat from the grand fire that warmed the luxurious drawing room of Ingfield House. ‘You’ve done well for yourself, Dora. Old Ezera must have been worth a bob or two.’ He leaned back and took a sip of brandy as he looked around the extravagant furnishings.

  ‘True, there’s not a lot I want for. But I earned it, mind you. Married to an old man, and all he thought about was his shop; never showed me an inch of affection or gratitude. He lasted a lot longer than I thought he would, with only dying last year. Ninety-bloody-two he was, would you believe it? When I married him, I thought he only had a few years left. I thought of knocking him off a time or two, but I’d never have got away with it; folk have long memories, when it comes to being Joseph Dawson’s sister. And once Ezera found out the truth about me, he was never the same, never trusted me.’

  ‘I think I should have gone for an older woman – not a young bit of a thing.’ John sighed. ‘My courting and sweeping your niece off her feet came to nowt, once her mother got to know. The bloody bitch! She didn’t even let me across the threshold of Windfell. She had her butler and groom throw me off the premises. I had her darling Isabelle in the palm of my hand, because she was so gullible. There would have been no scandal over High Mill, because she’d have had to back me, to keep her pretty daughter away from bankruptcy, if I’d wed her.’

  ‘You moved too fast, John. You should have listened to my advice and played it slower. I did try and help you as much as I could, warning you that Charlotte Atkinson is a bitch – a strong bitch who will protect her family, no matter what. She came from next to nothing, and now she thinks of herself as God’s gift. Ferndale Mill and Windfell should be mine, for they were my brother’s – nothing to do with a poor little farm girl. Have you seen the fancy dress shop she’s set up her precious daughter in, and the dumb bitch that worked for me? From what I hear, it’s a success, because all the leading local ladies are supporting her. Sheep, that’s all they are!’

  ‘She’s not as popular as you think. I’ve heard one of Mrs Atkinson’s workers cursing her, in the King Billy. I don’t know who the drunk fool was, but he hated her.’ John laughed and swigged back the last drops of his brandy. ‘I thought: here is a man to be admired, for he obviously sees through the all-caring Mrs Atkinson.’

  ‘You may joke, John, but perhaps this man could be of use to us. An insider who hates Charlotte: we could use him for our purposes. Perhaps we should start to think about bringing Charlotte Atkinson back down to earth.’ Dora sniggered.

  ‘Dora Dodgson, your brother had nothing on you. He had the charm, but you have the brains and, looking around here, the money. We’d make an interesting couple, Dora.’ John smiled and thought about the bank account of the rich widow sitting across from him.

  ‘I think not, John. As you’ve already said, I have brains, and I don’t wish to share my life with anyone other than myself.’ Dora knew John Sidgwick well and only endured his company because he might be useful to her at some point in her life. But as a husband – never!

  ‘Get yourself back home, Gibson, and consider your wages this week docked by a day. We can’t have you coming into work as you are. Go home and sober up.’ Charlotte watched as Bert Bannister gave Walter Gibson his marching orders for the day, after a near-accident at the carding machine.

  ‘But my wife: she’ll play hell with me. We need the money.’ Walter stood in the doorway.

  ‘You should have thought about that last night, when you were swigging gills back in the King Billy. You are neither use nor ornament to us, in the state you are in. Nelly Hodgson nearly lost her hand because of your neglect. Think yourself lucky Mrs Atkinson isn’t giving you the sack. Many a boss would.’

  Walter walked down the stairs, moaning about his lot for the whole world to hear.

  ‘You need to get rid of him, he’s trouble. He was bad enough when he just moaned, but now he drinks and moans.’ Bert sat in the chair across from Charlotte, picked up a pencil on the desk and played with it, to control his frustration over the mouthy worker.

  ‘But he’s got a large family, and Martha is such a good wife. She doesn’t deserve any more worry in her life. Besides, Walter’s only celebrated Christmas a little too much – we can overlook it this time.’ Charlotte looked across at her right-hand man and smiled. ‘This will make you happier.’ She passed the order that Smedhurst Textiles had just placed with her and waited for Bert’s reaction.

  ‘This can’t be right. Surely they’ve placed the nought in the wrong place!’ he gasped.

  ‘No, it’s right. I’ve just seen their main buyer out of the building. It will clear the warehouse of all back-stock and keep us in production well into spring. When we finished at Christmas, I wondered whether to sell the mill and call it a day, and then he walked in and made me realize that I’d be a fool to do so – or not just yet anyway.’ Charlotte grinned.

  ‘Who has he been dealing with up to now? Because I bet they will miss his order.’ Bert sat back and looked at the order that secured work for one and all.

  ‘Sidgwick at Skipton. Smedhurst was ashamed to tell me. They had been trying to leave High Mill for some time, but his late wife, Mrs Sidgwick, and Mrs Smedhurst were sisters, so they kept it in the family.’ Charlotte smiled at Bert and then stood up and looked out through the glass window across the mill. ‘I love a good order; keeps your mind sharp and makes the workers happy and secure.’

  ‘You’ll have all on to make Walter Gibson ever happy, Charlotte. He’s a whingeing, ungrateful sod who doesn’t do right by anybody. But the rest of the workers will appreciate the news; perhaps not so much the hard work they’ve to put into it, but they will appreciate keeping their jobs. Everyone was a bit nervous this Christmas, with Sidgwick’s going to the wall.’ Bert stood next to her and looked down at the mill floor. Everyone was working flat out, all doing their part to keep Ferndale Mill going.

  ‘Walter Gibson is on his own. Look at them all, Bert, all these people depend on us. When I first stood here, I thought I would fail within the first month, but I was determined not to, as much for the families working down on the mill floors as for me. I must never forget that it isn’t just about me and my family, but my extended family who work for me. No matter how much they whinge, I am responsible for them, whether they like it or not. Besides, the New Year will get off to a good start, and most of them will be happy with a few more bob in their pockets. I have a feeling this year is going to be a good one.’ Charlotte leaned back and looked again at the order that was going to secure the next twelve months. It had filled her with new determination and hope.

  The Atkinson family stood around the grand fireplace of Windfell’s parlour and made their guests welcome.

  ‘Come, sit a bit closer to the fire and get warm. We’ve a good blaze going, and there’s a bowl full of punch that will warm the cockles of your heart,’ Charlotte urged Betty Armstrong, who still looked cold after her ride down from the frozen moors above Winskill.

  ‘Never mind punch – I’ve a good malt, Ted, that’ll be more up our street.’ Archie made his way to the sideboard and poured himself and Ted
a tumbler each.

  ‘Erm . . . what happened to “ladies first”?’ Charlotte commented.

  ‘You’re alright. Thomson’s coming to serve you, ladies. Danny, do you want a malt, or is that a daft question?’ Archie poured another and passed it to his son, then winked at him as he went to be with Harriet. ‘Did you lose many sheep in that blizzard, Ted? We’ve still some missing, but the drifts are shrinking now; they should be making their selves free, if they’ve survived. I always remember when I was a lad, an old lass of a sheep was found late spring in one of the last drifts to melt. She was still alive, but she’d eaten her own wool and was bare as could be. Now, that’s survival for you.’

  ‘No, I’ve been lucky. I can account for nearly all my flock, but I haven’t a quarter of what you have.’ Ted sipped his malt and warmed himself against the fire.

  ‘What a beautiful tree! We don’t bother with one, now the children are older. But next year we will have to.’ Betty smiled and couldn’t control any longer the secret that she was keeping. ‘We are going to be grandparents. Our Agnes is expecting her first; it’s due in June, they think, so I’m excited.’

  ‘Congratulations to you both. We must raise our glasses to that news.’ Charlotte thanked Thomson as he filled everybody’s hands with a glass of punch. ‘To the new baby!’ Charlotte toasted.

  ‘To the new baby!’ Everyone cheered.

  ‘Yes, Agnes is sorry, but she has declined the invitation to be maid of honour at our wedding. She said she would feel uncomfortable.’ Harriet looked at Isabelle. ‘It’s a good job we hadn’t started on her dress, Izzy.’

  ‘Not to worry. That gives us more time to concentrate on your dress, and mine. We have been so busy in the run-up to Christmas and the ball season that we haven’t really been giving the wedding our full attention.’ Isabelle shrugged.

  ‘I never realized we were going to be so busy. It is a good job you bought the sewing machine, ma’am. We would never have coped without it, and Isabelle is getting to be as good a seamstress as myself.’ Harriet looked at her family gathered around her and smiled.

  ‘We are really proud of both of you,’ said Archie. ‘And this time next year, you and Danny will be ensconced in Crummock, enjoying your first Christmas and New Year together, and perhaps announcing the same news as your sister.’ Archie grinned as Harriet blushed at the thought of producing a child.

  ‘A toast to our families: may we always be happy and successful, and blessed with money, but most of all let us keep our health, because without that we are nothing.’ Archie raised his glass and beamed at the faces made rosy with drink, and at his children both looking up at him with adoration. He was a lucky man.

  ‘Good health!’ Everyone cheered, stopped short by Thomson’s entrance.

  ‘Dinner is served.’ Thomson stood in the doorway and held the parlour door open for the family to go through to the dining room, then patiently waited as each one went through and he heard the excited exclamations of the guests as they looked at the extravagantly laden table.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte – this is too much, really!’ Betty Armstrong caught her breath. ‘Pineapple: where did you get that from? I have never tasted it, and never thought I ever would.’ She gasped at the fresh pineapple in the display in the centre of the table. ‘And just look at that side of beef on the sideboard.’

  ‘Nothing is too much for my family. They mean everything to me. Now please, everyone, enjoy your meal. And afterwards, Harriet, if you are prepared to play, we can have a singalong around the piano. Although I wouldn’t advise you to stand next to Archie – he’s tone-deaf.’

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear, I will just sit next to the fire and listen. I aim to fill my stomach and then have a snooze.’ Archie grinned as Thomson helped him into his seat at the table and then served him his soup. ‘It’s nice to have a day with no worries, and with my family around me. Now, please, enjoy all this and let us welcome in the New Year in style.’

  ‘Just listen to Miss Isabelle singing, hasn’t she got the most beautiful voice?’ Ruby stopped for a moment from serving the servants’ dinner at the kitchen table down in the basement of Windfell.

  ‘She certainly has. I think Miss Harriet plays the piano beautifully, too. The family seem really happy.’ Thomson waited as Ruby placed a dish of leeks in white sauce next to him, to help himself from.

  ‘I wish Miss Isabelle would find herself a young man, and then the family is complete. A decent young man – not like the old fox Sidgwick that nearly broke her mother’s heart.’ Ruby sat down and watched her colleagues help themselves to the results of her hard work.

  ‘She will, there’s always someone for everyone.’ Mazy smiled across at Jethro. ‘It’s never too late to find true love.’

  Jethro smiled at the young woman he’d enjoyed escorting around Settle’s Christmas market and knew that in the coming year they would grow closer.

  ‘Listen, Mr Atkinson is reciting “The Mistletoe Bough”.’ Thomson paused and looked around at the faces as they heard their master’s voice shouting out the much-loved lines of the Thomas Haynes Bayly verse from above stairs:

  The mistletoe hung in the castle hall

  The holly branch shone on the old oak wall

  The Baron’s retainers were blithe and gay,

  Keeping the Christmas holiday.

  The Baron beheld with a father’s pride,

  His beautiful child, Lord Lovell’s bride.

  And she, with her bright eyes seemed to be

  The star of that goodly company.

  Oh, the mistletoe bough.

  Oh, the mistletoe bough.

  The servants listened as the drawing room erupted with applause at the end of the verse.

  ‘Aye, I hope he’s not brought bad luck on this house tonight. I always think it’s a dark poem, especially when they get to the bit where they find his bride’s skeleton in that chest after all those years. I don’t think he’s given much thought to the fact that his Danny is about to get married. Let’s just hope he’s not cursed it.’ Ruby Pratt got up from the table and walked over to the pan that was steaming a spotted dick in it for pudding.

  She pulled the steamed dessert out of the pan of boiling water and started to unfold it from the muslin that surrounded it, before taking it to the table, looking around at expectant faces as she served it up, before adding the thick custard around it.

  ‘This’ll be better than any fancy pineapple, and a lot more filling.’ She grinned as she watched the dishes empty.

  The mill was working full out as the winter’s night closed around it. The gas lights were burning brightly, to enable work to be carried on later into the hours leading up to New Year’s Eve.

  ‘You’d think they’d let us go a bit earlier tonight. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’d like to have a gill to see the new year in,’ Walter moaned, as he picked up a basket of full spindles from the carding room to be taken downstairs and spun on the busy mules.

  ‘I’m just glad of the hours. My Gladys needs new shoes, and the rent is to go up, so I’m not moaning. Besides, it’s only another day – it’s nothing to celebrate, is New Year.’ Walter’s co-worker, Josie, wished he’d shut his mouth for once and get on with his job.

  ‘Aye, but them in the big house will be toasting it in, you can be sure of that. I bet if I go downstairs with this lot and I look up into the office, Charlotte bloody Atkinson won’t be there looking down on us. She’ll not want to work on New Year’s Eve,’ Walter growled.

  ‘Trouble with you, Walter, is you don’t know your place in life. There’s them, and there’s us. And we are just thankful we’ve got a job and a family to go home to. Besides, Mrs Atkinson’s been here most of the day. She walked around and said hello to everyone this afternoon with Bert Bannister.’ Josie had no time for the moaning that her work colleague indulged in nearly every day. It was beginning to wear on her.

  ‘Hmm . . . they only came around to make sure we were ahead with this big order. They don’t care.�
�� Walter lifted the basket of spools and walked away from Josie, who was shaking her head and pretending not to hear above the noise of the carding machine.

  Opening the double doors into the spinning room, he carried his basket along the pathway with laboured breath, to the first mule that looked in need of replenishing. The noise from the busy mules was deafening, as he indicated to the worker that she had a new delivery. He stood back and caught his breath, then watched the spinning mules going back and forth, quicker and quicker, as their handlers watched for any irregularities in the process. Dust and cotton fluff filled the air, and Walter coughed as he found it hard to breathe. An exceptionally large piece of fluff floated over his head in the upward draught caused by the mules and landed on the unguarded gas light next to him. It caught light instantly, and Walter’s immediate reaction was to pull it away from the flame and stamp it out on the wooden floor below. He raised his hand and wafted the burning fibres down to the floor, but a downward draught caught it and blew it into the nearby working mule. Immediately the lit fluff spread within the workings of the mule. The dry cotton fibres caught ablaze and spread within the working machine. Walter watched on in horror as the mule-minder shouted, ‘Fire!’ and the young lad who had been working as the piecer screamed and yelled, as the fluff from underneath the mule caught light and travelled to him, setting his trousers ablaze.

  Walter watched in disbelief as the boy ran, alight, down the length of the mules, screaming as he made for the double doors and escape. In the blink of an eye the whole floor descended into chaos, as the fire spread along the floor from mule to mule, with the dry cotton fluff feeding it. The fire spread like lightning, up the pulley belts and into the room above. The women and children screamed and made for the doors, piling on top of one another in a bid to escape. Some of the men grabbed fire buckets filled with sand from the walls, in a desperate attempt to extinguish the strengthening furnace. Flames licked the walls, and the smoke crept upwards and down to the rooms below. The workers in the carding room above were caught in the fire and smoke, and the women screamed in desperation as they tried to flee the licking flames. The sound of clogs clattering down the stone stairs filled the air as the fire cracked and burned.

 

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