by Valerie Wood
‘In bed? Is that what you mean?’ He glared at her. ‘And that’s something you would know about, isn’t it? So very welcoming, are you not?’ He leaned towards her. ‘Just suppose,’ he said softly. ‘Just suppose I said to you now, that we lock the door to keep the servants out, and we lie on the bed –’
She gave a gasp and clutched her throat. ‘But it’s daytime! It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning.’
‘So?’ He advanced towards her. ‘Does that matter? Have you anything else to do that is more important than keeping your husband happy?’
‘But –’ She took a step backwards. ‘That would be disgusting!’
‘Would it?’ He stopped and narrowed his eyes. ‘And that, my darling wife, is why husbands go elsewhere.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Don’t worry. I would hate to spoil your morning. And anyway, being in your bed at this time of day is the last thing I want!’
He took a horse from the stable, saddled it and rode off towards the river Humber. He hadn’t intended visiting Ruby today, as she had told him that her mother was very sick and she had to sit with her. He had taken pleasure in comforting her, in murmuring in her ear and stroking her hair, and although she hadn’t objected to undressing and lying with him on the bed, he had felt that her thoughts were elsewhere. To his own surprise at his unselfishness in not demanding from her, he had suggested that she dressed and went back to her mother.
But now he wanted to see her. He wanted to feel her body next to his, to hear her laugh, to listen to that gurgle of uninhibited glee, not a prissy simper or coy smile.
He trotted down to the river and on to the shingled foreshore by the Hessle haven. A stiff breeze was blowing and the sun glistened on the water. Coal barges, cutters and steamboats, a Dutch fluyt laden with timber were moving briskly in the breeze, their sails gleaming white, and he halted to watch them for a while. I’d like to sail away, he mused. He hadn’t yet told May that he had given up his manager’s position at the mill. Don’t need to work any more. Didn’t need to before, except that Father insisted. Good for our character, he always said. What utter tosh!
Presently he trotted on towards Hull, the mare’s hooves scattering the shingle into a white spray, and his ill temper eased as the thought of Ruby embraced him.
Instead of crossing the town, however, he decided to ride down to the Humber dock to see what ships were in. Emerson has ships, he mused, and so has Joseph Rylands. Perhaps that’s the business to be in. They’re both wealthy men. But then, business means hard work and I’m not so keen on that. Freedom, that’s what I want. Freedom to please myself.
He could see the tall masts and furled sails of several ships in the dock, and as he rode towards them he saw a mass of passengers disembarking down the gangplank of one of them. Most of them were wearing thick coats and mufflers in spite of it being a summer’s day, and he called to a group of people and asked where they were from. Some of them shook their heads as if not understanding, but one man drew apart and came up to him.
‘Speak slowly please or I not understand.’ He was a red-haired man with a thick beard and a heavy accent.
‘Where are you from – and where are you going to?’ Edward repeated.
‘I am from Germany and I go wit’ my family to America. Some of these peoples’, he waved towards the crowd, ‘come from Scandinavia, some from Belgium. They go also to America and Canada. A new life,’ he nodded in emphasis. ‘A better life.’
‘Good luck then,’ Edward said and murmured beneath his breath as he rode away towards the town, ‘Lucky dog.’
‘My poor darling,’ he said when Ruby told him of her mother’s death. ‘Do you need money for the funeral? For a carriage?’
She was surprised at his sympathetic attitude when previously he had dismissed her mother’s illness with a nonchalant shrug, but lately he had become more caring and tender and that had confused her. She knew how to cope with him when he was passionate and demanding in his desires, but was wary and suspicious of this other side of his personality.
‘A carriage? No! We’ll walk to ’graveyard,’ she said, hiding a smile. ‘But –’ Extra money would be good, she reconsidered. I could buy a box of groceries for Aunt Lizzie, like Martin Newmarch did, and she wondered wryly if Edward knew of his brother’s involvement with Grace. Bet he doesn’t, she thought.
She lowered her lashes, then lifted tearful eyes to him. ‘But – yes, perhaps we could hire a cab, then I could take Freddie to Ma’s grave. He’s still very sick, he can’t walk there.’
‘Freddie?’ he said vaguely, reaching for his pocketbook.
‘My brother Freddie. You know, I told you about him.’
‘Ah, yes! How much? A guinea? Two?’
‘Whatever pleases you, Edward.’ She didn’t want to appear grasping. ‘I’m very grateful, and it’ll mean I can get Ma a proper coffin now.’
He looked up. ‘A proper coffin? What do you mean?’
‘Well, some of ’coffins are that thin that rats get into them as soon as they’re put into ’ground. I can get a proper wooden one for half a guinea.’
He shuddered, and gave her another guinea to add to the two. ‘Do whatever is necessary, Ruby – only don’t tell me about it, please!’
He put his arms around her and said, ‘I know you won’t want to stay now, I understand that. But I need you, Ruby, I want you more and more. I can’t do without you, do you hear what I’m saying? I just need to see you. To be with you.’
‘To make love to me?’ she whispered, and stood on tiptoe to nuzzle his cheek. ‘But I will stay now.’ She was mindful of what Aunt Lizzie had said to her, to find out if his wife knew of their relationship. ‘I want to stay,’ she lied.
‘Not just because I have given you money?’ he questioned.
‘Silly!’ She started to unfasten his cravat and then the buttons on his shirt, and sliding her hands beneath the soft linen teased the hairs on his chest. ‘Of course not.’
It was a very warm day and Ruby was glad that she had hired a cab to take the Sheppards, herself and Freddie to the new cemetery on the Spring Bank for her mother’s burial, though they were rather squashed, and Freddie sat limp and tearful on Lizzie’s knee with a blanket around him.
There was a crowd of people waiting to see them pass. Innkeepers and their wives were there, Mr Cooke the apothecary in his white coat, the grocer with Jamie’s mother Nell beside him, though no sign of Jamie. Daren’t show his face, Ruby deliberated, but I’ll get him before long. As the cab drove slowly behind the cart which carried the coffin, some comments were heard on Bessie’s final stylish journey and how it was paid for.
‘I hope she likes it out here in ’country,’ Ruby cried suddenly as they approached the tree-lined burial ground and its flower beds on the Spring Bank. ‘It’s very quiet. Ma’s a town person, she’s used to a lot of folks around her!’
‘Don’t worry about it, Ruby,’ Bob Sheppard murmured. ‘At ’rate folks is dying off in Hull she’ll not be short of company for long. Cemetery’ll soon be filled up.’
Grace had sat quietly, not saying much on the journey to or from the cemetery. As they returned home, where Ruby had ordered ale and food from the grocer for them to note Bessie’s passing, she was more than troubled as to how and when she could tell Ruby of her decision. I will tell her today, she thought. It’s best that we get it over with, for she knew with an absolute certainty that Ruby would be upset at her news.
As they trooped in single file down the alley, Bob carrying Freddie, Lizzie next and Ruby and Grace following behind, they were assailed by shouts and screams coming from Middle Court. ‘What’s happening?’ Grace peered over the top of Ruby’s head. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Bailiffs,’ her father commented. ‘They’re turning ’Blakes out!’
‘Oh!’ Ruby, appalled, put her hands to her mouth. ‘I forgot to pay ’rent. Oh no! They’re tekking ’bed and table.’
‘Your ma’s bed and table,’ Lizzie said. ‘But we’ve got
’mattress so they’re not getting much, cos Blakes have got nowt.’
‘They’ve been living rent-free for months anyway,’ Bob muttered. ‘Scroungers, that’s what they are.’
‘But what could they do, Da?’ Grace objected. ‘Where could they go?’
‘Workhouse,’ her mother said quietly. ‘That’s where they’ll go now. If workhouse will have them, that is.’
Ruby ran across to where the Blake family were huddled together, watching the bailiffs locking and boarding up the door. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘So very sorry. I forgot to pay ’rent cos I was so worried over my ma and Freddie.’
Mrs Blake gazed at her with soulful eyes and whispered that her bairns would starve, but Mr Blake scratched his bristly chin thoughtfully and said, ‘Well, Ruby, if you dash off to ’rent office now and pay what’s owing, mebbe they’ll call these bum-bailiffs off and we can go back in again.’
Ruby stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘But it was my ma’s house,’ she said. ‘I paid ’rent for her, not for you, even though you were living in it! And Ma’s dead now.’ Her voice rose and then broke. ‘We’ve just this minute laid her in her grave! What use is ’house to her now?’
‘Well,’ he said flatly. ‘What shall we do, Ruby? You’ve let us down. Really let us down.’
Bob Sheppard came over. ‘On your way,’ he said bluntly. ‘Get your wife and bairns to ’workhouse. They’ll get a bed and summat to eat and you can live off your wits like you’ve been doing for ’last few months. You’ve scrounged off Ruby pretending that you’ve been looking after Bessie and all ’time you’ve been looking after yourself. Go on,’ he jerked his head towards the alleyway. ‘Get on your way.’
‘How could you, Da?’ Grace asked later as they sat silently drinking tea, but eating little as none of them had any appetite. ‘Those poor bairns.’
Her father was crouched in his chair with his chin in his hands. ‘What else could be done?’ he said harshly. ‘Like it or not, workhouse is ’onny place left for them.’ He straightened up, and picking up his cup from the table took a drink. ‘Is it any worse than drinking tea given to us by a lass that’s sold her body to pay for it?’
Ruby gave a sob and put her hand to her eyes. ‘I didn’t, Mr Sheppard! Not this time. Mr Newmarch asked me if I needed any money for Ma’s funeral. He didn’t expect owt in return, honest he didn’t.’
Bob Sheppard was silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘Aye, all right, lass. I’m sorry. I spoke out o’ turn. I just get so –’ He turned his eyes towards Grace. ‘So aggrieved.’
Grace caught her father’s gaze and waited. She had discussed with her mother and father the implications of going away to Miss Morris, for this would be for a longer period than when she went on the tour into the west of Yorkshire and Lancashire. They both had insisted that she should go.
‘So very aggrieved,’ he repeated. ‘On ’unfairness of life.’ When he spoke next there was a catch in his voice. ‘So, daughter. We’re in a pit of darkness and despair. What are you going to do about it? How are you going to change our lives?’
Ruby gave a slight startled laugh and looked from Grace to her father and back again. ‘Grace? How can Grace change owt?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grace said slowly, and knew that now was the time to tell Ruby. ‘But I’m going to try, and even if I can’t do much and I probably can’t, at least I’ll know that I’ve tried and will follow in ’footsteps of others who’ve also tried, and maybe,’ she took a deep breath, ‘somebody who comes after me will succeed.’
‘What are you talking about, Grace?’ Ruby demanded. ‘You’re talking in riddles!’
‘I’m talking about injustice, Ruby,’ Grace said passionately. ‘I’m talking about poverty, and I’m talking about being educated which should be everybody’s right.’ She got up and went across the room to stand beside Ruby, who was sitting on the bed. Putting her hand on her shoulder, she said softly, ‘Don’t feel hurt or let down. I know that you’ll feel alone, especially now since you’ve lost your ma. Just try to remember that I’m doing this for you and for me, and for Freddie and for everybody that we know who’ve been mistreated or ill-used just because they’re poor.’
‘What?’ Ruby whispered. ‘What are you going to do, Grace?’
‘I’m going away,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving home and I’m leaving Hull, and I don’t know when or if I’ll be coming back.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ruby didn’t go back to Middle Court the next day or the day after. For why should I go? she thought miserably. There’s no-one there who needs me. No ma waiting for me and Freddie is being looked after by Aunt Lizzie, better than I could care for him. Grace is going away and I don’t want to think about that. She sat looking out of the window into Wright Street on the third morning and stifled a sob, forgetting momentarily that she was living in luxury compared with her life before Edward Newmarch came along.
But Grace was seeking her out. She hadn’t visited the house in Wright Street although Ruby had told her the house number in case she should ever need her, and as Ruby looked out of the window she saw Grace walking along the street and looking up at the doors.
Ruby immediately felt a lifting of spirits and tapped on the glass. Grace lifted her head and smiled, and Ruby indicated for her to come up. She lifted her skirts and raced down the stairs and opened the door before Grace had even knocked.
‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you, Grace. I’ve been so miserable.’ Ruby turned to her as she led the way upstairs to her living room. ‘Have you come to tell me that you’re not going away?’ she said eagerly.
‘What? No!’ Grace was astonished. ‘I’ve come to tell you that Freddie wants to see you. He’s upset, Ruby. His mother has died and his sister isn’t visiting – he thinks you’ve gone away and left him!’
Ruby’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I couldn’t bear to come, Grace. I feel as if I don’t belong. Ma’s not there. Our old house, slum that it is, is boarded up. You’re going away and I might never see you again.’ She burst into a fit of weeping.
‘And yet you have all this.’ Grace surveyed the room as she sat down. The waxed flowers in a glass dome, the embroidered cushions on the chairs, velvet curtains at the window, a bright fire in the hearth and pictures on the wall.
‘But it’s not mine, is it?’ Ruby wiped her eyes. ‘It’s Edward’s and if he wanted to he could turn me out into ’street, and I’d have nothing, even less than I had before.’
‘Is he likely to do that?’ Grace asked anxiously. ‘From what you’ve said I thought he cared for you.’
‘I think he does,’ Ruby gulped. ‘But I allus feel guilty when I’m with him. It’s as if I’m playing a part. I’m pretending that this is what I want, but really it isn’t.’ A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I want someone to love me for what I am and for me to love him back!’
Grace didn’t answer. She had always felt the security of love from her parents, and although she thought that Bessie had loved Ruby and Freddie, her own needs, tempered by her addiction to opium, had always been paramount to theirs.
‘Freddie loves you,’ she said softly. ‘And he needs you. And I love you, Ruby, you’re my dearest friend. Just because I’m going away doesn’t mean that I shall stop caring about you. But I want a better life too, I don’t want to stay in Middle Court for ’rest of my days. I want a nice house to live in like this one, onny I don’t want to do what you do to get it.’
‘I know.’ Ruby took Grace’s proffered hand. ‘I’m a selfish pig. But I shall miss you, Grace, just like I did ’last time.’
‘Come on.’ Grace rose from the chair. ‘Put on your shawl and come to see Freddie. Or do you expect Mr Newmarch to call?’
Ruby shook her head and picked up a fine wool shawl and draped it about her shoulders. ‘Later,’ she said. ‘His wife has found out about us so he comes when she’s out visiting.’ She glanced at herself in the mirror. ‘Or out calling as he says.’
They walked
arm in arm down Wright Street, crossing the bustling Charles Street and turning towards Sykes Street and the myriad courts and alleys which surrounded it. ‘You see,’ Ruby said, ‘I know all of this. I know the folks who live here. I know what to expect of them and they know me. I’m comfortable with them.’
‘You’ve forgotten,’ Grace told her. ‘You’re looking at it sentimentally from ’comfort of your rooms in Wright Street.’ She avoided calling it home, because she knew Ruby would object to that. ‘You’re seeing it from ’advantage of a full stomach, decent clothes on your back and leather on your feet. You’re no longer cold and hungry and scratching around to find ’money to pay your rent before ’bailiffs come.’
Ruby didn’t reply but walked with her head down as she pondered. Her shiny black button boots and layers of cotton petticoats peeped from beneath the hem of her blue muslin gown, and she compared them with Grace’s shabby, worn boots and thin skirt.
‘Am I right?’ Grace asked. ‘Or am I wrong?’
‘You’re different, aren’t you, Grace?’ Ruby didn’t immediately reply to her question. ‘From ’rest of us, I mean? I remember when you stood up for ’women at ’mill and confronted Martin Newmarch. I thought then how brave you were.’
Grace started to object, but Ruby insisted. ‘Yes. You are,’ she said. ‘And yes, you are right. I haven’t forgotten what it was like, but I’ve pushed it to ’back of my mind. I hated getting up on a dark morning to go to work for a pittance,’ she said bitterly. ‘I hated trying to make ends meet when I knew that I couldn’t, and I hated it when Ma spent our money on loddy because it was ’onny way she could forget her miseries.’
She squeezed Grace’s arm. ‘Go then, Grace. Go and make it better for all of us.’
