PART THREE
THE CHILD
One
She had fallen into the routine of the house as if she had never left it. Christmas had been a gay affair, although the Christmas dinner was the only time she had allowed herself to sit in the dining room and eat. From the day following her entry back into the house she had refused Matthew’s order that she must eat with him. It was only on John’s plea that Miss McGill would feel a little out of place, there being one lady and two men, that she consented to have her Christmas dinner in the dining room instead of in the servants’ hall. She had also said firmly that if she were to stay then she must make her rooms, as in the early days, on the nursery floor for now she had a child to see to.
Matthew raised no objection to this, and things went smoothly between them until the second week of the New Year when, returning from the town late one afternoon he called her into the library, and there without any preamble he said, ‘I am sure you’ll be pleased to learn that the McGrath woman will shortly get her deserts.’
‘What do you mean?’ She peered at him through narrowed lids.
‘Well, what I’ve just said.’ He nodded towards her. ‘The matter has been in the hands of my solicitor since shortly after the incident. She is to appear in court the day after tomorrow. Leyburn will testify, as will you yourself.’
‘No! No!’ Her voice was loud. ‘I won’t. I won’t go into court again! You should not have done this.’
‘Not have done it? She could have killed the child and you say I shouldn’t have done it!’
‘Yes; I repeat you shouldn’t have done it, it’s none of your business.’
‘Trotter!’ His voice was low and his tone cold. ‘I don’t want to remind you again that the child is my half-brother. There is the question of blood, I have an interest in him, he will carry that woman’s mark to his grave.’
‘He is my child, you have no claim on him, none whatever. And I would like you to get that firmly in your head: You have no claim on him. What is more, you have no right to do this.’ She choked and hunched her shoulders up around her neck; then she bent her head forward and placed her hand on her brow as she said, ‘You don’t understand. Even if she had murdered him I . . . I could not have gone into court. I have been in a court. I was accused in a court of being a witch and of being the instigation of causing a man’s death. The scene has never left me. You may have nightmares about frogs but’ – she swung her head from side to side – ‘there are periods when I’m back in that courtroom night after night.’
She now raised her head, and they stared at each other; then, her voice soft, her tone flat, she said, ‘I . . . I appreciate your concern, I do really, but believe me I don’t want this matter to go to court. She was drunk else she would never have done what she did, as bad as she is. And . . . and another thing, that family has known enough trouble inadvertently through me. If . . . if that woman were sent to prison I . . . I wouldn’t know a moment’s rest. And I can tell you this, if that family were to suffer again through me it would cause such bad feeling in the village I would be afraid to move out of these gates. One of her sons died in . . . in strange circumstances.’ She lowered her eyes now. ‘I . . . I was held responsible for it, although the matter never came to court. The youngest son, who incidentally was different from all the rest and . . . and was kind to me, he left home never to return. A third son went into the army and was killed. She has one son left now and one grandson.’
As her head drooped again a silence fell between them until he said, ‘It will be as you wish. I . . . I imagined that you would have liked retribution, but I can see that I was wrong.’
He walked now the length of the room towards the window, and there he stood looking out for some moments before he said, ‘There was another matter I wanted to speak about. In about two weeks’ time I would like you to prepare a small dinner party. It will be for six. Just an ordinary affair, nothing too elaborate. The guests will be Mr and Mrs Rosier and a Miss Alicia Bennett, Mrs Rosier’s cousin. And then, of course, John and Anna and . . . ’
‘The Rosiers?’ The name escaped her.
He turned now and walked back towards her, saying, ‘Yes, the Rosiers. He is going into partnership with me in the mine.’
‘Partnership! . . . Your father . . . ’
The change in him startled her for he almost yelled at her now, ‘What my father did and what I want to do are two entirely different things. My father had a personal prejudice against the Rosiers. I have no feelings for them one way or the other, but I need his expertise. He knows all about mines, I unfortunately don’t as yet. And if I return to America . . . I should say, when I return to America, John will be left in charge, and he knows less than nothing about mining. I am putting a great deal of money into this concern, and Mr Rosier has enough faith in the project to add more to it. Moreover, he has the experience to pick men with the ability not only to manage but to work the mine . . . ’
‘Yes, and drive them like slaves and house them in hovels, and dismiss them at a moment’s notice if they dare attempt to read and write, put them on to the road in effect.’
‘That was some years ago’ – his tone had altered now – ‘things have improved.’
‘Oh no they haven’t, not by what I hear.’
‘The Drews still keep you supplied with pit news then?’
When she didn’t reply he said, ‘By all accounts my father wasn’t any better an employer than Mr Rosier. He allowed you to work in his mine, didn’t he? And the little girl who was killed beside you in the fall, how old was she? And speaking of cottages, I was through his row yesterday, and although they have become more dilapidated with the years there is still evidence of what they would have been when inhabited; and let me tell you this, some of the rough-necks I met in America would have preferred to sleep outside in the open and braved the elements and wild animals rather than bunk down into those hovels . . . ’
‘So—’ he moved nearer to her until she was only an arm’s length from him and, looking straight into her face, he said, ‘If you would be kind enough, Trotter, to oblige me by arranging, as I said, a small dinner party for the twenty-eighth? Thank you.’
She was left standing, her hands tightly gripped in front of her waist.
Why was it he always seemed to put her in the wrong? And why was it she always had the desire to go against him, argue with him? And it wasn’t her place. But what was her place? As her granny would have said, she was neither fish, fowl, nor good red meat. Left to herself she felt as if she were mistress of the house, but in his presence she became a servant. Yet the odd thing was he never treated her as such, rather, more as an equal.
But this Rosier business. Well, she supposed he was right in all he had said: he had no knowledge of mines and if he was going back to America he’d have to leave someone in charge. She wished he were going back tomorrow. Oh yes, tomorrow. The sooner the better.
It was a blustery day towards the end of April when the wind seemed to be trying to obliterate the sun by sending scudding clouds across the sky. Tilly was in the nursery; she had the child in her arms and was standing before the window pointing upwards, saying, ‘Look! birdie . . . Look! Willy, birdie.’
But the child didn’t follow her pointing finger, he made an unintelligible sound and stroked her cheek with his plump hand, and she stared into his eyes, large soft brown eyes; then she traced her finger above the jagged scar running across his brow. It hadn’t faded as the doctor had said it would, it still showed as a narrow red weal; and on each visit he still assured her that as the child grew older the weal would flatten; he would always carry a scar but it would be hardly noticeable in later life as his skin grew tougher.
The doctor had insisted that she take the child to him every month. He would look into the child’s eyes and mutter, but make no comment other than to say jocularly, ‘He’s a healthy little beggar, is our Willy.’
The nursery door opened and John peeped round into the room, s
aying, ‘C . . . can I have a w . . . w . . . word with you, Trotter?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I know I sh . . . sh . . . shouldn’t disturb you in your r . . . r . . . rest time but I w . . . w . . . wanted you to be the f . . . first to know.’
She smiled at him as she seated herself at the corner of the nursery table and pointed to the seat opposite. She knew exactly what news he was about to divulge but she waited, saying nothing.
‘Tr . . . Trotter—’ he blinked his eyes, screwed them up tight, then opened his mouth wide before he brought out, ‘I . . . I don’t know whether y . . . you’ve s . . . s . . . seen it or not, but I’m in lo . . . lo . . . love with Anna.’
‘Well, I had noticed something different about you.’ She now burst out laughing, and he put his head down and covered his eyes with his hands for a moment before he said, ‘I’m going to her gr . . . gr . . . grandmama today to ask p . . . per . . . mission to marry her.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad, John, so glad.’ She put her free hand across the table towards him, and he said, ‘I th . . . thought you m . . . might be, and I know you like Anna. She . . . she . . . she dotes on you. But I’m r . . . rather wor . . . worried, her gr . . . grand . . . grandmama is a very stiff old girl.’
‘Oh, you’ll soften her up, never fear, John. You’ll soften her up.’
‘I’m n . . . not so sure, in some . . . some ways she p . . . puts me in mind of my gr . . . grandmama. You remember, sh . . . she . . . she didn’t like me just because I . . . I stammered.’
‘Well, she wasn’t a nice person and very few people liked her.’
‘You kn . . . know, Trotter, it w . . . was you who brought us together. We’ll never forget that, never.’ He moved his head slowly as he looked at her, then said, ‘And now I must g . . . go and f . . . f . . . find Matthew. He went out r . . . r . . . riding about an hour ago, but I don’t know whether he’s gone to the m . . . m . . . mine or gone riding with Miss . . . Miss Bennett.’ He rose to his feet and bending towards her said in a mock whisper, ‘Wouldn’t it be f . . . f . . . funny if we had a d . . . double engagement, Trotter? Wouldn’t it?’
She made no answer but watched him walk to the door, and as he opened it she said, ‘Is Matthew thinking about going back to America shortly?’
There was a broad grin on his face as he answered, ‘Never heard a w . . . w . . . word of it recently, not s . . . s . . . since he met the d . . . divine Alicia. She scares me a b . . . b . . . bit. I think Matthew has met his m . . . m . . . match. What do you think?’
She didn’t say what she thought, she just shook her head and he went out. She rose and placed the child on the rug before walking to the window again and looking out. Well, there was one thing certain, if the divine Alicia became mistress of this house she herself would once again pack her bundle and depart.
Later that day John and Anna came running through the house like two children, calling, ‘Trotter! Trotter!’ and after being directed to the servants’ hall they stood before her, and she held out her hands to both of them and said, ‘I’m so glad.’
It was Anna who spoke first. Her voice full of meaning, she said, ‘Thank you, Trotter.’
John, leaning towards her, his eyes sparkling with happiness, exclaimed on a laugh, ‘W . . . W . . . Wouldn’t believe it, Trotter. I n . . . n . . . nearly fainted, her gr . . . grandmama k . . . k . . . kissed me.’
Tilly watched them lean against each other. Then John turned towards Biddy, and she came forward and said, ‘I’m happy for you, sir. I’m happy for you both. I’ll make the grandest spread for you in the county on the day it happens.’
‘Thank you, Bi . . . Biddy.’
‘Oh, thank you, Biddy.’
Katie now came forward and dipped her knee to the young girl, and Fanny, Peg and Betty followed.
‘Ha . . . have a drink at d . . . d . . . dinner time to us.’ John nodded from one to the other. ‘Will you br . . . br . . . bring a bottle up, Trotter?’
‘Yes, I’ll do that.’
As the two of them turned hand in hand and ran from the room the girls all put their hands over their mouths to still their laughter, and Biddy said, ‘There’s two that’ll make it.’
It was Katie who turned to her mother now and said, ‘An’ I wonder if the master will make it with Miss Bennett. What do you think?’
Biddy’s answer was abrupt. ‘I’m not paid for thinkin’, I’m paid for workin’, and so are you. Now you’ve finished your tea get on with it.’ And as Katie’s hand went out to the last cake left on a plate her mother slapped the hand aside, saying, ‘Go on, leave that alone; you’re always stuffin’ your kite. You never see green cheese but your mouth waters.’
‘Aw, Ma, you!’ Katie replied and pushed Fanny before her. As Biddy turned and walked towards the door leading to the kitchen she said, ‘What’s your idea about him and the horse-mad heifer?’
Tilly paused before answering, ‘I haven’t really thought about it,’ at the same time reminding herself that very little passed Biddy’s nose. ‘If he wants her, he’ll have her, I suppose; he’s that kind of man.’
‘I wish he’d get himself off back to the Americas, that’s what I wish.’
As Tilly now walked up the kitchen she answered quietly without looking in Biddy’s direction, ‘You’re not the only one, Biddy. You’re not the only one.’
Two
The engagement party was being held in honour of Willy’s forthcoming birthday too. The day had been very hot and the evening promised no relief until the moon should come up.
The preparations in the house during the past two weeks had been on from early morning until late at night. John and Anna had wanted a small private engagement party, but Matthew had shouted them down, saying that as he was the first of the three to put the halter round his neck, it must be done at least with a little ostentation, not too much, but just a little.
The meal was to consist of a cold buffet supper, and concerning this Matthew had annoyed not only Biddy but Tilly also, for apart from the cold game, porks, sirloins and hams, and the pastries and cakes, the roasting and baking of which Biddy had perfected over the years, he had ordered from a Newcastle firm a large iced three-tiered cake that was to be the centre of the main table, as well as trays of fancy titbits.
Then at the last moment, only two days ago in fact, he had informed Tilly that he was engaging six male servants from Newcastle, one to act as butler, two as first and second footman, and three as wine waiters. There was also to be a quartet to provide music.
When she had shown her surprise and open displeasure at the engaging of the male staff, he had turned on her, saying, ‘I do it to relieve you of the responsibility of the staff on that evening. You manage the household, in fact act as its mistress, so I want you to put on your best dress and help receive the guests . . . as its mistress.’
She recalled the scene, the open quarrel that ensued when she cried at him, ‘Oh no! No! Do you wish to humiliate me? You have given me the list of guests, and in it I notice three names, supposed friends of your father, the Fieldmans, the Tolmans and the Craggs. I remember just how their wives considered me the last time they were in this house. To them I was merely a servant, and rightly so, but there are ways and ways of treating a servant. Apart from Miss Bennett I don’t know any of the other names on the guest list, but I know those three ladies. There is a name for them. I remember applying it to them all those years ago, it still remains vivid in my mind, and that name is bitch. They were three bitches then, so imagine their reaction to me if I should be in the hall to receive them, as you say, mistress of the house . . . Oh, you know the correct procedure better than most, so why are you set on subjecting me to this humiliation? Anyway, the rightful people on this occasion to receive the guests are John and Anna. And my part, I can assure you, will be that of the housekeeper, because after all that is what I am, the housekeeper, and I would thank you to remember that and not embarrass me with such ridiculous suggestions
.’
‘God!’ He had gripped his unruly hair with both hands and swung round from her as he exclaimed, ‘Of all the bloody aggravating women on this earth, Trotter, you’d be hard to beat! All right’ – he had turned to her again – ‘you want to be a housekeeper, from now on I’ll see that you are treated as a housekeeper.’
She had glared at him, returning a look similar to that in his eyes and stretching her neck upwards and so, outreaching his height, she had said, ‘Very good, sir,’ then turned and walked out of the drawing room. But as she went to close the door she had paused for a second as his muttered oath came to her, saying, ‘Damn and blast you!’
That night she had hardly slept, and the next morning John had come to her and said without any lead up, ‘Now, Trotter, you are to c . . . c . . . come to the p . . . p . . . party, M . . . M . . . Matthew is furious, like a b . . . bear with a sore skull.’ And he had put his head on one side as he added, ‘I . . . I don’t know how it is, Trotter, b . . . b . . . but you know you g . . . g . . . get under his skin . . . skin more than anyone else I know. I c . . . c . . . can’t understand it, you who are s . . . s . . . so good and tactful with everybody, but you s . . . s . . . seem to an . . . annoy him. Why? Why, Trotter?’
‘I don’t mean to, John; but I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for being your father’s mistress.’
‘Oh, I th . . . think he has, Trotter; in fact, I know he’s v . . . v . . . very concerned for you and li . . . li . . . little Willy. He’s very f . . . f . . . fond of Willy, as we all are, and as he said the party c . . . c . . . could be a celebration f . . . f . . . for his first birthday too. Oh, come on.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘After all, Tr . . . Trotter, both Anna and I know that you . . . you m . . . made our engagement possible.’
Tilly Trotter Wed (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy) Page 14
