Tilly Trotter Wed (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy)

by Cookson, Catherine

  When their lips parted and they looked at each other she knew she’d remember the expression on his face until the day she died. It was such that would be seen on the look of a man given freedom after years of confinement. There was such a light of love in his eyes that she bowed her head against it.

  ‘We’ll be married before we sail for America.’

  ‘What!’ Her head jerked up.

  ‘I’m due to sail on the fourth of next month.’

  ‘But . . . but, Matthew . . . ’

  ‘No buts. No buts.’ He put two fingers on her lips.

  She moved slightly away from him. ‘But yes, I must; there is your position, the county.’

  ‘Damn and blast the county!’

  ‘Oh Matthew!’ She shook her head slowly. ‘You can damn and blast the county as much as you like but . . . but you would never live this down.’

  When she turned her head away he cried at her, ‘Oh no! no! not another situation like with Father, not for me and you, oh no! no! You marry me, Tilly. I want you for mine, I want to own you, yes, own you. You are to be mine legally. Now get that into your head, you are to be mine, to belong to me. And what do I care for the county? Blast the county to hell and all in it! Even if we were staying here, but we’re not, we’re going to America where nobody will know anything about us or him.’ He thumbed towards the child. ‘I have married a widow with a young child. That’s all that need be known. Anyway, I wonder why you put so much stock on the damn county, what do you care for the county? Look’ – he got hold of her hands – ‘I know you are thinking only of me, as you thought of Father when you refused to marry him, but I’m not having you other than as a wife, and I mean to have you as a wife if I’ve got to drag you to the church, or even to a registry office, anywhere we can be signed and sealed before sailing. Now, is that clear . . . Trotter?’

  She smiled wanly at him now as she said, ‘Yes, Master Matthew.’

  ‘Oh my dear, dear Tilly.’ Gently now he drew her towards him as he said, ‘You know I’ve never liked the name Trotter or even Tilly; I think from the day we are married I shall call you Matilda. It has a good homespun sound, Matilda. It will deny that you are beautiful and alluring, and no other man will be very interested in anyone called Matilda Sopwith.’

  Her smile was wider now as she said, ‘Then the day you call me Matilda I shall call you Matt.’

  ‘Good! Good! I like that . . . Oh my love. Oh my love.’

  They were enfolded again tightly, her face lost in his, when the door burst open and Katie almost left the ground in amazed surprise which brought from her the high exclamation of, ‘Oh my God!’

  As she made to dash from the room Matthew sprang from the bed and pulled her forcedly back, then pushed her towards Tilly, saying, ‘You are the first to know, Katie Drew, that your friend has promised to become my wife.’

  ‘Wh . . . What!’

  Tilly had to bow her head against the look of utter incredulity on Katie’s face and her stammer that sounded so much like John’s.

  ‘Yes, wh . . . what! And now, Katie Drew, you may go downstairs and tell your dear mama the news, and anyone else you come across. You may also tell them that on the fourth of July you are sailing with your master and mistress to America as nursemaid to the young William there.’ Again he thumbed towards the child, and when Katie’s mouth opened again to say, ‘What!’ he checked her with a finger wagging in her face, saying, ‘And get out of the habit of that syllabic silly What! and replace it with pardon. Now go.’

  Katie backed from him, she backed from them both until she reached the open door, and there all she could say after looking from one to the other was, ‘Eeh!’

  When the door had closed on her they gazed at each other and Tilly asked, quietly now, ‘You meant that, you weren’t joking, you’ll take her with us?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You’ll want someone to help look after the child, and I’ll want my wife to myself now and then.’ Again he was cupping her face and she turned and looked down towards the boy, who was lying quite peaceably sucking his thumb, and the joy going from her face, she muttered, ‘Blind. How will he bear it?’

  His voice was soft, his tone compassionate as he said, ‘He’ll become used to it and he’ll always have us. But’ – he squeezed her face tightly now – ‘these eye men can work miracles today, they put lenses in spectacles that can enlarge a spot as if the wearer were looking through a telescope. Look, I’ll go tomorrow and see him. We’ll have the best advice in the country. Don’t worry, as long as he has partial sight of one eye he’ll be all right.’ And now he paused and staring into her misted eyes, he said, ‘Do you love me, Tilly? Really love me? I feel you do but I want to hear you say it aloud. I’ve made you say it in the night; I’ve made you say, “Matthew, Matthew, I love you.” And at those times when we’ve been going at each other’s throats, part of me has been crying, “Say it, Tilly. Oh, say you love me.” And now I want to hear it from your lips.’

  It was she who put her hands out now and, covering his rough bristled coal dust and rain-smeared face, said gently, ‘I love you, Matthew Sopwith. I love you. I don’t know when it began, I only know I feel for you as I’ve felt for no other, not even your father.’

  ‘Tilly! Tilly!’ There was a break in his voice and he drew her to her feet, and now as he held her close her slim body seemed to sink into his and she knew that for good or ill she’d always want it to remain there.

  Seven

  Biddy couldn’t believe it; Katie couldn’t believe it; none of the Drew family could believe it; and least of all could Tilly believe that she was to be married and would be going to America, to that strange, wild, new country.

  But the villagers said they could believe it for anything that was a sin before God could be attributed to that witch. Some of the more godly even went as far as persuading the parson to go and see her. He came but he was confronted by Matthew, and his exit from the house was much more hurried than his entry. As he later said to his housekeeper, he did not blame the woman so much as the man, because well-born he might have been, but he had certainly not grown into a gentleman.

  Did the county believe it? Oh yes, the Tolmans, the Fieldmans, and the Craggs all said they had known about it all along, since he had first come home in fact; they knew that that piece, having lost the father and thereby her place in the house would leave no stone unturned until she could regain it. And what would be the best way to do that? To entangle the son in her snares. It was a disgrace, obscene. Oh yes, gentlemen had married servants before today, they all said, they were well aware of this, but the father and son to share a mistress, well! that was something different. It was just as well they were leaving the district; if not, the place would become too hot for both of them.

  And they were leaving that young stammerer in charge of the mine. Well! they knew what would happen to that now it was deprived of Mr Rosier’s expert advice and control. Mr Rosier had shown himself to be a man of high morals; immediately he had heard about this scandalous affair he had cut adrift from all connection with the Sopwiths . . . Really! the things that happened.

  When the last words were also reiterated in the village, it was Tom Pearson who brought censure upon himself by ending it with, ‘They’ve been unfortunate, they’ve been found out. If all the things that happened, not only among the county lot, but in this very village were aired the devil would be declared head-man.’

  Tom Pearson, the parson again confided in his housekeeper, wasn’t a good influence in the village; he would have to arrange that the man got very few orders for painting or odd jobs for this might induce him to seek a habitation further afield.

  No-one knew what Steve McGrath thought or had said about the scandalous affair, but it was known that his mother had visited him at the cottage and when he wouldn’t allow her entry she, like her grandson, had thrown a brick through the window.

  When lastly it was rumoured that Trotter’s child was going blind few, if any, attributed any b
lame to Mrs McGrath except to say that God had a strange way of dealing out punishment, and who was to blame Him for the instruments He chose.

  Although no-one mentioned the villagers or any member of the county to Tilly she was well aware of the seething hostility surrounding her and she knew that she would never have survived it if Matthew had decided to stay on here.

  They were to be married by special licence on the third of July and were to sail from Liverpool on the evening of the fourth. It had been arranged that Katie, accompanied by Arthur, would take the child and travel to Liverpool on the morning of the wedding, there to await Matthew’s and Tilly’s arrival.

  The marriage was to take place in Newcastle attended only by John, Luke and Biddy; and following this, the couple would board the train and so begin their journey.

  So there was to be a farewell family party on the Saturday evening. Biddy had suggested that the master, and Mr John and Mr Luke should be present, but Tilly had said no, it was just for those who for years she had considered her family, together with Phyllis and Fred and Sam and Alec and their families, because it was not only a farewell to her but also a farewell to Katie.

  That Katie was the envy of her sisters was plain to be seen, but that she herself was also fearful of the journey and of the new life ahead of her was equally evident, for as she said to her mother as she stood by the table laden with the fare they had been cooking for the last two days: ‘What if I don’t like it, Ma?’

  ‘You can always come home, lass. They’ll see to it. You can always come home.’

  ‘Yet I wouldn’t want to leave her.’

  ‘Well, what you’ve got to remember, our Katie, is that she’s got a husband and as yet you haven’t, so if the place doesn’t suit you or you don’t suit it, come back to where you belong.’

  ‘I’m all excited inside, Ma.’

  ‘I’m all sad inside, lass.’

  For the first time that Katie could remember, her mother enfolded her in her arms and so warming was her mother’s embrace that she began to cry and said, ‘I don’t know whether I want to go or not, Ma.’

  Biddy pushed her away, saying, ‘You’re goin’. Your bags are packed, your ticket’s got, and, who knows, you might find a lad out there who’ll take a fancy to your face.’

  ‘Oh, our Ma! I’m going to miss you our Ma.’

  ‘And I’ll miss you, lass. And I’ll miss her an’ all because she’s been like one of me own. You know that.’

  ‘Aye, I do. Sometimes I’ve thought you even think more of her than you do of any of us.’

  Biddy didn’t answer this; instead, she said, ‘I’d be happy to know that she’s got you with her because there’ll be times when she’ll need a friend and comforter.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t see that, Ma, not having him.’

  ‘Aye, me girl, it’s just because she does have him for, as I see it, he’s gona be no easy packet is Master Matthew. Jealous as sin he’ll be of her, you mark my words, an’, like the devil, he’ll hold on to what he’s got; and she being who she is, ’cos she’s of a proud nature, there’ll come times I’m sure when he’ll hold the reins too tightly and she won’t like the bit in her mouth. Then the skull and hair’ll fly.’

  ‘Oh, Ma, you sound doleful.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not, lass’ – Biddy shook her head – ‘but I’ve been through life an’ I’ve seen a bit an’ it’s taught me to read a character, an’ as I said, there’ll come a time when she may need you.’

  ‘Aye, well, I hope you’re wrong there, Ma, in that particular way anyhow. Oh! there’s the carriage.’ She ran to the kitchen door and craned out her neck. ‘It will be Master Luke. I wonder what he thought about it all when he heard. By! I bet he got a gliff.’

  The three brothers were seated in the drawing room. There had been very little talk during the journey from Newcastle and no mention at all of why Luke had been asked to get leave, and so John, aiming to ease what he imagined to be a rather embarrassing situation, said, ‘That uniform’s s . . . s . . . so smart, L . . . Luke, that I think . . . think I’ll join up myself.’

  ‘Good idea; they can do with fellows like you in the cook-house.’

  ‘Oh you!’ John tossed his head.

  There followed another short silence; then when they both looked at Matthew where he was standing with his back to the fire, he, looking back at his brothers, said briefly, ‘Well! out with it.’

  ‘Out with what?’

  ‘Don’t hedge, you know why you’re here. Didn’t my letter surprise you?’

  ‘No.’ Luke pursed his lips, then moved his head from side to side before repeating, ‘No; why should I be surprised about something I’ve known all my life?’

  Both John and Matthew stared at him now.

  ‘She turned you crazy the first time you set eyes on her, she did the same to me. She didn’t affect John there’ – he turned and laughed at his younger brother now – ‘he wasn’t old enough, but you remember the incident when we came from Grandmama’s that time and I said I was going to marry her when I grew up . . . you do remember, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I remember it.’

  ‘Well then, you know what happened, you nearly knocked the daylights out of me. She had to come up and separate us.’

  Matthew lowered his head and gave a short laugh.

  ‘I used to envy you,’ said Luke now, ‘because you were bigger than me and therefore, I thought, she would show you that much more affection.

  Matthew smiled across at Luke as he asked, ‘Do you envy me now?’

  ‘No, no, I don’t Matthew.’ Luke’s tone and expression were so solemn that the brothers stared at him as he went on, ‘I wouldn’t want to love anyone like you do, Matthew. I’m all against self torture. Your kind of love is . . . ’

  ‘Is what?’ The question was flat.

  Luke now got to his feet and, pulling his tunic down round his hips, he shook his head slowly, saying, ‘You know, I can’t find a word to explain it. Don’t be mad at me. Come on, don’t look like that, but . . . but your feelings have always been so intense, Matthew, where she’s concerned, as if she had . . . ’

  ‘Don’t say it, Luke. Don’t say it.’

  ‘What was I going to say?’

  ‘Bewitched me.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I was, but there’s no harm in that. In a way I wish I could find some woman who would bewitch me. They love me and leave me and I get a bit pipped about it, but I don’t suffer any agony. Yes, that’s the word.’ He pointed to Matthew now as he laughed, ‘That’s the word to describe your love, agony.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody silly, Luke! The feeling I have for Tilly is anything but agony.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it at last, I’m glad to hear it.’ Luke walked across to Matthew now and, thumping him in the shoulder, said, ‘Where is she anyway? And you know something?’ He poked his long face towards his brother. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, I’ve always wanted to kiss her and now I’m going to do just that; and you stay there, big fellow, you stay there.’ He pushed Matthew hard in the shoulder, almost overbalancing him into the fire; then laughing, he went hurrying down the room, calling, ‘Trotter! Where are you, Trotter?’

  As Matthew now made to follow Luke, John pulled at his arm, saying quietly, ‘L . . . L . . . Let him g . . . go, Matthew . . . L . . . L . . . Let him go.’

  ‘But why is he acting like this, he’s being almost insulting?’

  Now it was John who poked his face forward and said, ‘D . . . D . . . Don’t you know?’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘Well, I’d b . . . b . . . better tell you, big . . . big . . . big brother, he’s j . . . jealous.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not. He has l . . . l . . . lots of women has L . . . Luke. They all trip . . . trip over themselves f . . . for him; but he’s never found one like Tro . . . Trotter . . . he’s jealous.’

  ‘Huh!’ Matthew’s eyes crinkled in laughter now and again he said,
‘Huh!’ then putting his arm around John’s shoulder, he pressed him close, saying, ‘You know, besides being the best of our particular bunch, you’re also the wisest.’

  Eight

  ‘Matthew George Sopwith, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, as long as ye both shall live?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Matilda Trotter, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?’

  ‘I will.’

  She couldn’t believe it was happening, it was so unreal. She was cold, yet she was sweating. Was she really standing here being married to Matthew? Her hand was in his and he was saying:

  ‘I Matthew take thee Matilda to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’

  ‘I Matilda take thee Matthew to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.’