by Valerie Wood
‘You mean that he won’t marry you?’ His face drained of colour, but his eyes flashed and his voice was hard.
‘Can’t.’ Her voice was low. ‘He’s married already.’
‘You mean that he’d run away with you and leave his wife behind?’ And when she nodded in response, he muttered, ‘Blackguard!’
He turned round again and stared down into the water. It was deep, in full tide, surging against the river wall, the spray splashing his face. The pull of it seemed to draw him, and he caught his breath. Had it enticed his mother when she saw whatever dreams she had shatter, as his were shattering now?
‘Daniel?’ Ruby said in a small voice. ‘I’m sorry! I said to Grace that you wouldn’t want to be my friend when you found out.’
‘Does Grace think you should go with him?’ He didn’t look at her, but continued to stare into the water.
‘Grace? She doesn’t know. He onny asked me today. No – I meant when you found out that I’d been kept.’
‘He onny asked you today!’ he exclaimed. ‘And have you said that you’ll go with him?’
‘No. I told him I’d think about it. I’ve to think about Freddie. I can’t leave him, Daniel,’ she said tearfully. ‘How can I? Poor bairn’s already had a terrible time, climbing up chimneys and then losing Ma.’
‘So would you stay if somebody else made you a proposal?’ His face seemed brighter and he searched her face for an answer.
‘Somebody else? What kind of proposal?’ Her lips parted, and she ran the tip of her tongue over them as her quickening breath dried them.
‘Not money or jewels!’ He caught her hands again and drew her towards him. ‘But ’promise of honesty and being faithful, and love,’ he added softly.
She blinked. ‘But – I thought that you loved Grace?’ Her voice quavered and broke. ‘You was allus sweet on her.’
He smiled. ‘I love Grace still, but differently, and I might have been sweet on her once, she seemed so fragile and vulnerable as if she needed taking care of. But she doesn’t. And a year ago I was young, just as we all were. We’ve all grown up, Ruby.’
‘That’s what Grace said.’ Again Ruby’s eyes brimmed with tears.
He bent to kiss her wet cheek. ‘It seems to me that you need somebody to kiss away them tears that you’re allus shedding.’
‘If I was with you, Daniel, I wouldn’t cry.’ She moved closer to him. ‘I’ve allus loved you, but I thought you were meant for Grace.’
‘No.’ He put his arms around her and held her close. ‘Grace is not for me. Besides, I’d hold her back, she’s meant for somebody cleverer and better than me.’
She objected. ‘There’s nobody better than you,’ she said. ‘You’re ’most handsome, nicest man I’ve known.’
‘And you told me that you’d onny known one,’ he teased gently.
Ruby looked up at him. ‘Does it matter?’ she whispered.
‘I’d rather have been ’first,’ he admitted, and put his head against hers. ‘But I met some girls whilst I was away, so I reckon we’re even. What matters is that I love you, Ruby. I loved both of you before I went away, but when I came back and saw you, you looked so lovely, and when you ran towards me with your arms wide open to greet me, I just knew.’
She squeezed him tight, and kissed him. ‘Come on,’ she said softly. ‘Let’s go back to Middle Court and tell Grace. She’ll be so happy for us.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
‘My dear, don’t upset yourself.’ Georgiana Gregory did her best to console her cousin May, who was in floods of tears over her husband’s indiscretions. Georgiana privately thought that it was only what she had expected.
‘Some men find other women irresistible, in spite of having a pretty wife.’ Rake! she fumed. Spending May’s money on a mistress!
‘I thought he loved me,’ May sobbed. ‘I never thought that he would look at anyone else.’
‘Really! Then I think you were rather naive, my dear. Men don’t often marry for love, though some probably grow to love their wives eventually.’ And women marry because they think they should, they think they will have a better status, she contemplated, which of course is nonsense. Unless they are marrying into position and wealth, which May hasn’t.
She patted May’s hand. ‘If you really do love him,’ she said, ‘then we are going to have to think of some way to win him back from this woman, whoever she is.’
‘She’s a common mill girl,’ May wailed. ‘She’s not even one of us.’
‘So much the better,’ Georgiana commented dryly. ‘If she was one of us, then everyone would know of it and think it serious. As it is, people who do hear of it will think it’s just a little fling – playing in the dirt, which is what all boys like to do.’ She gave May another pat on the hand and said brightly, ‘You’re going to have to consider his tastes and pander to them. Imagine’, she said coyly, ‘what he might do with a common mill girl.’
May gasped. ‘I couldn’t possibly! Georgiana, how could you suggest it?’
Georgiana shrugged. Really, May was quite tiresome, and she began to reflect that it was no wonder that Edward had gone off. ‘I am not suggesting anything, May. How could I, being a single woman? All I am saying is, use your imagination. Read some romantic novels and try to tempt him back.’
May ceased her crying and wiped her eyes, being careful not to rub them and make them red. ‘He did say once –’ She stopped and closed her eyes for a second. ‘Well, it was quite disgusting and improper, but I could tell you.’
‘Please don’t!’ Georgiana said hastily. ‘There are some things between a man and wife that shouldn’t be discussed with others.’
‘Well,’ May considered, ‘I can tell you, I think,’ and continued in spite of Georgiana’s objections. ‘It was the morning I found out about her. We quarrelled and I was angry and said to Edward that she was probably only good at one thing, and he said, what if he— that if he suggested that we lock the bedroom door to keep the servants out, what would I say?’ She stared wide-eyed at her cousin.
‘Mmm.’ Georgiana nodded and raised her eyebrows. ‘And you said –?’
‘Georgiana!’ May flushed. ‘What did you expect me to say? I said no, of course! It was eleven o’clock in the morning!’
My goodness! Things are worse than I thought. Georgiana pondered. Has her mother told her nothing? Georgiana hadn’t had a mother to tell her anything, but had discovered at a very young age that there were ways of finding out.
‘Time has no meaning in the art of love,’ she said softly. ‘You must be prepared at all times to follow an impulse, either yours or your husband’s.’
‘How do you know?’ May was shocked at her unmarried cousin’s apparent knowledge.
‘I have read about it,’ Georgiana said briefly. ‘And you must do the same and be prepared to act. Now,’ she said briskly. ‘You have told me that Edward hates the crinoline, so when he comes home he must find you in some soft floating gown, without stays or hoop, perhaps even without stockings. As if in fact you were almost ready for bed.’ She felt herself grow hot. ‘The rest is up to you, May. I can tell you nothing more.’
May with much misgiving did as her cousin had suggested, though curious as to which books Georgiana had read. May’s reading material contained heroines who constantly swooned and heroes who galloped around on white chargers and rescued distressed maidens. None told of bedroom scenes.
But when Edward arrived home he seemed agitated over something. His cheeks were flushed and after supper he got up from the table and said he was going to have a ride along the riverbank. ‘Pity you’re not dressed, May,’ he said, as he opened the door. ‘You could have come with me.’
Ruby waited anxiously all the next morning for Edward to come, and when his chaise pulled up outside her heart was hammering so hard she was sure that he would hear it. She heard him take the stairs two at a time and he burst through the door. ‘I’ve got the tickets! There’s a ship sailing in ten days.’ He p
icked her up and whirled her around. ‘And we’ll be on it.’
She shook her head and struggled to get out of his grasp. ‘I’m not coming, Edward. I can’t.’
He gave a brief laugh. ‘What do you mean? Of course you’re coming.’ He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a folder. ‘Look, here they are. Two first-class tickets and one for my valet, Allen. We travel from Hull to London and then across the— You’re not serious?’ He stopped in midflow as he saw her downcast expression. ‘Is this because of your brother? All right, for God’s sake, we’ll take him! But I’m no good with children, I’ll tell you now.’
‘I – don’t want to go,’ she said nervously. ‘I’m not ’sort of person for adventure. I wouldn’t feel safe away from home.’
‘Ridiculous!’ he bellowed, then, offhand, stated, ‘Well, I’ve bought the tickets so you have to go.’
‘No I don’t! It’s not as if we’re married and I have to do what you say.’ She was astounded at her own audaciousness, and so was he.
‘What’s this?’ His eyes narrowed and he said viciously, ‘If I’m not here to keep you you’ll go back to the gutter. Back to poverty!’
‘I know.’ She looked at him with shame in her eyes. ‘I’m grateful to you, Edward. You’re right, you did rescue me from ’gutter, and I’ll never forget that. But I can’t go. I belong here. In Hull. It’s a place that I know, with people that I care about.’
‘Huh! It doesn’t care about you,’ he blustered. ‘And the people you know can’t help you. Not one jot!’
He argued, he wheedled, then he said that he was going home and that he would be back the next day to hear that she had changed her mind when she realized the opportunity she was missing. ‘I shall be giving up the lease on this place, so think about that,’ he warned.
She let him go and then thought that he hadn’t even kissed her, let alone wanted to take her to bed. She was glad of that for she had no desire for him, not now that she was committed to her beloved Daniel, who had said he would be waiting for her later in the day.
The next morning she laid out on the bed the jewels he had given her, and when he arrived she told him she was leaving. He looked at her in horror, dropped to his knees at her feet and begged her not to. ‘I love you, Ruby! I’ve told you that. I want us to be together. I’ll always look after you. You mustn’t think that I won’t!’
She shook her head and planted a kiss on his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Edward. It’s over. I know that I’m the loser, but I can’t go with you.’
He ranted at her and took her by the shoulders and shook her, then apologized profusely and begged her to forgive him. ‘I can’t bear it.’ He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. Then he looked up. ‘There’s someone else, isn’t there? You’ve found some other man to keep you? Who is he?’ He rose to his feet and thundered, ‘Tell me who he is!’
‘No. No,’ she stammered in her lie. ‘There’s no-one else. But I’ve got ’chance of a job. In a toyshop.’
‘In a toyshop?’ He burst into cynical laughter. ‘A shop girl! Hah, if that’s the height of your ambition, Ruby, I wish you well in it. A shop girl!’ He put his hands on her shoulders and stared down at her. ‘Well, I’m still going. With or without you. The ship sails on the sixteenth. Be there.’
‘Take your wife,’ she suggested. ‘It’d be a new life for her.’
‘Take May! You haven’t met her! She wouldn’t survive a week with all those rough immigrants and prospectors. She’s pink and white and pretty, and no backbone!’
He turned to the door. ‘Are you sure there’s no-one else?’ and when she shook her head, he said, ‘You once said that I’d be the one to leave you, not the other way around! I don’t understand you, Ruby. You can have anything you want if you come with me.’ He glanced at the jewellery on the bed. ‘Keep those,’ he said brusquely. ‘They’re only baubles anyway, gewgaws.’
She looked down at the jewels. Gewgaws! And I thought they were valuable. She ran them through her fingers. Did he think that was all I was worth?
She left that evening, packing the clothes and jewels into a cumbersome parcel. I might wear them again one day, she thought. But if not, then I’ll sell them to Rena. She picked up her stool, the only thing that was truly hers, and left, not even looking back for one last time. She felt a lightness of spirit flow over her. Now, she thought, I can really be me.
A letter came from Miss Morris by return of post addressed to Martin Newmarch. In it she asked if he would be so kind as to make the necessary arrangements for Miss Grace to travel as soon as possible. ‘I send this request to you,’ she wrote, ‘as I gather from your letter that you will be accompanying her. I’m sure I need not remind you, dear sir, that she is a young maiden and in this instance will also require a female companion.’
He smiled as he read it and wondered at the complexities of womanhood as they strove for independence yet were also wary of their reputations. ‘Mother.’ He looked in at her sitting room, where she was sewing. ‘How would you like a jaunt into West Yorkshire? Say, this weekend?’
‘Certainly,’ she agreed. ‘So what scheme are you planning now?’
‘No scheme,’ he answered. ‘But I need you to accompany a single young woman. I don’t wish to compromise her.’
‘Oh?’ She looked up with interest. ‘Is she eligible?’
He laughed. ‘No, she is not, and she would be most confused if she thought that she was being protected or considered vulnerable.’
‘So are you the one who is at risk?’
He paused for a moment. ‘Possibly,’ he murmured, and a fleeting smile touched his lips. ‘Quite possibly.’
It was raining when he called on Grace that afternoon, and the courts and alley were flooded. He cursed silently, then rolled his trousers halfway up his shins, splashed through the water and knocked on the door. Grace put her hand over her mouth and her eyes twinkled when she saw him. Then she apologized. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, with a laugh in her voice as she invited him in. There was a pan of water boiling on the fire and he stood in the small steamy room, feeling ridiculous with his top hat in his hands and his trousers rolled up. ‘We’re so used to getting wet, you see.’ She pointed down at her skirt hem, which was wet and dirty. Her feet were bare and a pair of muddy boots were drying by the fire.
How can people keep clean? he wondered. It just isn’t possible when they have to live in such conditions, and yet Grace has told me that they are much better off than many others.
‘I’ve received a letter from Miss Morris,’ he said. ‘She would like you to go to her as soon as possible. Would Saturday be a suitable day for you to travel?’
‘Oh! Yes. Oh!’ She appeared flummoxed. ‘It’s ’day after tomorrow. So soon!’
‘If it’s not convenient,’ he began.
‘Oh, no! Any day is as good as another, Mr Newmarch. It’s just that suddenly my life is about to change and I don’t know if I’m prepared for it – I don’t mean packing or anything like that, for I have very little except for what Miss Emerson has given me.’
He saw her eyes glisten as she went on, ‘It’s just – leaving Ma and Da and wondering if they’ll be all right.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I did wish to speak to them about something. A scheme, as my mother would call it. She will be accompanying us, by the way,’ he added. ‘She’s calling on friends in West Yorkshire.’
‘Please, won’t you sit down?’ Grace asked. ‘Ma won’t be long. She’s taken Freddie to ’apothecary for some cough mixture.’
‘Is he no better?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ she beamed. ‘Thanks to you, Mr Newmarch, he is. Just a slight cough, that’s all.’
She offered him tea, which he refused, and then he told her that he had resigned from the cotton mill as he had now taken over his father’s business interests, and also had ideas of his own to fulfil. She asked him about Miss Gregory, and he replied that he had not seen her for some time as she had been accompanying
her cousin on various outings. They had lapsed into silence when the door blew open and Grace’s mother almost fell in, with Freddie on her back.
‘Beg your pardon, Mr Newmarch,’ she said breathlessly. ‘But Freddie couldn’t walk all ’way. He’s still a bit weak.’ Freddie slid down and she stretched and grimaced, one hand on her back.
‘Mrs Sheppard.’ Martin stood up. ‘I’ve come to ask if Grace can travel to Miss Morris’s on Saturday? It’s short notice, I realize, but Miss Morris is most anxious for her to start straight away.’
Grace and her mother looked at each other. ‘So – so it’s ’time of parting,’ Lizzie said softly. ‘So soon! Aye, well, so be it!’ She looked around the room. ‘It’ll not be ’same without her.’
‘It may not be the same anyway, Mrs Sheppard,’ Martin replied. ‘May I be so bold as to ask if you have a regular work commitment?’
‘Huh!’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘Folks like us don’t have owt regular, Mr Newmarch. Nothing we can rely on anyway.’
‘Ah!’ He rubbed his nose as if considering. ‘Well, I was wondering if you might be interested in a proposition?’
‘Oh, aye!’ She looked at him suspiciously. ‘And what might that be?’
‘I’m planning a charitable project. My late father and I discussed an idea which unfortunately, because of my illness and then his, resulting in his untimely death, had to be abandoned. I intend, however, to take it up again.’
Her expression gave nothing away, yet he felt he had her interest.
‘There are, as I’m sure you are aware, many refuges in this town, apart from the workhouse, which cater for the poor.’
She nodded. ‘Aye. Almshouses! There’s Weaver’s in Dagger Lane and ’Charterhouse, but they’re all full up and some onny take in certain folks, like mariners’ widows or religious people.’
‘Exactly,’ he agreed. ‘Well, I have in mind to establish a sanctuary which will accept elderly couples, who, at the end of their lives and unable to work or maintain themselves, are forced into the workhouse. In spite of a clause in the Poor Law Act which says they may share a room, they are usually separated there.’
