Annie

by Val Wood

  A doxy! A mistress! She stared at the kindly man opposite. No word of reproach; he was only telling her that that is how it would seem. No-one would understand what love there had been. And of course he was right. He would need a wife one day to run that fine house on the Wolds. She imagined the scorn Matt’s father would pour on him if he found out about her, even though he probably had bastards of his own, if what Toby had said was true.

  ‘So do you think I should go? Should I leave?’ She willed him to tell her no, that everything would be all right, that Matt wouldn’t mind.

  ‘I’d be sorry to see thee go, but it’s how tha feels about him. Passion’s a strange thing, but love’s summat different, and if tha cares for him then tha’ll not tie him down.’

  How strange, she thought, that this short, plain, homely-looking man, should give out wisdom on the aspects of passion and love. You don’t need to possess a handsome face or winsome grace to know of it. She smiled sadly. How lucky he was. Just as she was; for even though she knew the decision she must make, nothing could take away what she had shared with Matt.

  * * *

  A message had been passed on that the Breeze was on the coast somewhere near Whitby and would be in Hull in a week, she would then make her way up river towards Hessle.

  Annie was desperate. I need to see him one more time. How can I go without holding him in my arms and kissing him goodbye? But it was impossible. He would know that something was wrong, she wouldn’t be able to hide it. He would be kind, she knew, and say that he would look after her. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to hold him because she was dependant on him, and she was so afraid that he would feel tricked or caught and would cease to love her.

  And now doubts started to creep in and she started to wonder if he did indeed love her. He had said so many wonderful things, but maybe men of his class did that. How could she tell, never having known it before?

  Tha’s tired Annie, she told herself, and depressed. Once more she slipped into her own tongue as doubts and self-deprecation flooded over her. But she gave herself a mental shake and cried out loud. ‘Don’t doubt him. What tha had was wonderful.’

  She packed her bags with cloth and muslins and carried them down to the bottom of the meadow where the cart was hidden. The donkey had been stabled for the winter but Josh had brought it back for her and it was cropping on the hard ground. Then she took out all the silk from the chest and carefully folded it and packed that also. She took out the silk dress and lovingly stroked it and thought of that special night, then shook it to free it of creases and hung it on a peg on the wall.

  It will be the first thing he sees as he comes in. He’ll remember that night when we never slept, and maybe he’ll always think of me lovingly. She sat and stared at it, at its shimmering softness, and remembered its luxurious sensuousness as it clung to her body, and of the enchanting evening when she had known such happiness.

  ‘I shan’t ever forget. How can I when I’ll have a constant reminder?’ She ran her hand across her breasts and down her waist to the special place where a new life was beginning.

  She said goodbye to the Trotts. ‘I have to be moving on for a bit. I allus said I would, didn’t I?’

  ‘We’ll miss thee, Mrs Hope,’ Henry Trott said, nodding his head. ‘Where’s tha off to?’

  She answered vaguely and waved her hand in the direction of the river. ‘I might take the ferry, I haven’t decided yet.’

  Mrs Trott whispered in her ear out of Mr Trott’s hearing. ‘What about ’running? Who’s going to do that if tha’s not here. Tha’s letting a lot of folks down.’

  No word of sorrow at her departure, only concern that the goods wouldn’t be coming in.

  ‘Josh,’ she whispered back. ‘He’ll tell you what’s happening.’

  She’d persuaded Josh that he could organize the running on his own and had suggested that he asked Robin to become the agent and collect the money from the farmers and landowners who were supplied with goods.

  ‘He’s a presentable lad,’ she’d said, ‘and can add up in his head, and I’ll give him a letter to say he’s taking over. He can give up work at the quarry then for he’s not suited for it.’

  ‘I’ll not disagree with that,’ Josh had pondered, ‘but I was going to ask if tha’d take him with thee. Tha’ll need somebody on ’road to look after thee, there’s some villains about, robbers and that.’

  ‘I can’t, Josh. I can only be responsible for myself and the bairn I’m carrying. But, maybe I’ll send for him one day – if I get settled. I’m fond of him, you know that don’t you?’ And she’d asked him to say goodbye for her when she’d gone for she couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on the boy’s face.

  ‘Aye, he’s fond of thee, he’d do owt for thee would Robin.’

  Sorrow gripped her as she left the Trotts’ cottage. She’d miss them all. She’d found real friendship here. Toby, Robin, Josh, Henry Trott, she’d even miss Mrs Trott, with her funny grasping ways, and at least her dislike was predictable.

  As she walked back up the meadow towards her cottage she fingered the pearls beneath her shirt, the ones she and Matt had found in the chest and the ones he had brought for her hair. I’ll never part with these, she thought, never, even if I’m on my last crust, nor the scarf that Toby gave me. They were given in love.

  Josh had asked her when she was leaving and where she was going, and again she’d waved vaguely towards the river. ‘Tha’s never going to try for London, Mrs Hope? They do say there’s fortunes to be made there, but it’s a long way off.’

  She hadn’t denied it and told him that she would leave first thing the next morning, and she knew that he would be there to see her off. But that was the last thing she wanted. Lingering goodbyes would bring tears and she must harden herself for this parting.

  She sat on the doorstep watching dusk fall. The river was turbulent, the crests of the waves were creamy brown as they tossed and tumbled. The air was cold and the ground hard with the frost that was still lingering. It’s not a time to be travelling, she told herself; once before I set off on a journey when winter was approaching, and now here I am again, continuing my travels in the middle of it. Well at least this time I have warm clothes and boots, and money – and goods to sell and a donkey-cart to ride in. What riches! If the folks in Hull could see me, wouldn’t they wonder at it!

  But my poor bairns. It seems that I’m destined to be always parted from them. I wonder if you’re being a good lass, Lizzie? Maria and Will ’ll take care of you, I’m sure of that, God bless them. And my lads—! She bent her head and silently wept. It’s a punishment. I’m being paid back for what I did.

  As darkness came she went inside and lit a lantern and packed bread and cheese into a cloth. She put on warm stockings and her boots and took the cloak from behind the door. She picked up the lantern and turned towards the door. I’ll not look back, she thought. Only forward.

  But she couldn’t help herself. She turned and lifted the light. It lit on Toby’s boots, the ones she had worn, which were leaning lopsidedly against the wall. ‘Goodbye Toby,’ she whispered. ‘God bless thee. Sleep in peace.’ It shone on the dress, catching the silken scintillant threads in shimmering, radiant splendour. ‘Goodbye Matt, my only love. Don’t ever forget me.’

  She closed the door behind her and hid the key where she knew Matt would find it, and holding the lantern high she strode out down the meadow.

  27

  Matt ran up the meadow. There’s no fire, he thought. No smoke from the chimney. What a woman, he smiled, she’s no housewife, no cook. But she’s—. He grinned with elation. She’s something special.

  He’d met his old friend Greg in Hull, who on greeting him had said, ‘So, you found your little widow? I knew there was a reason for the smile on your face.’

  ‘She’s wonderful, Greg. The most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.’

  Greg had slapped him on the back. ‘But I seem to remember, you said, she was impud
ent and opinionated and came from the gutter, and wasn’t your type of woman at all!’

  ‘I was wrong,’ he’d grinned. ‘She is from the gutter, but she’s my type of woman; she has fire and guts and isn’t afraid to say what she means.’

  Greg had looked at him curiously. ‘And what do you intend to do with this wonderful woman? Are we going to get a chance to look at her? Will you introduce her to your father?’ he added cynically.

  ‘I shan’t let you clap eyes on her, you old sea dog. I wouldn’t trust you. And as for my father, he’s met her already.’ He’d stroked his beard and mused. ‘She was play-acting, pretending to be a foreign lady.’ He told Greg about the party. ‘But I think he liked her, he seemed to find her unique – which she is.’

  He smiled now as he reached the cottage door, Greg had had such a look of incredulity on his face and had shaken his head in mock despair at his friend’s apparent derangement.

  He banged on the door. ‘Come on, Annie. Where are you hiding?’ He peered through the small window. There wasn’t a fire, nor had there been for some days by the look of the dead ash in the hearth. He put his hand up to shield the reflection of the glass. Her dress was hanging up on the wall. Had she put it there to remind her of that wonderful night? The night when he had known that there would never be anyone else in his life but her.

  He looked round for the key and on finding it opened the door. The cottage was cold and empty; the blankets were folded neatly at the bottom of the bed and the table was cleared, no milk jug or crockery, only a bread knife lying on a wooden board. He knelt and felt the ashes, they were cold and burnt through to a fine dust and hadn’t been warmed for a long time.

  She must be ill. He came out in a cold fear. Mrs Trott will know, or Josh, yes Josh, he’ll know what’s happened. He dashed out of the door and ran back down the meadow.

  Josh was waiting for him in the lane beyond the hedge. ‘I was waiting on thee, Captain. I knew tha’d be here about now.’

  Matt grabbed his arm, ‘Mrs Hope, where is she? She’s not at the cottage. Is she ill?’

  ‘No sir, she’s not ill, not so far as I know, anyhow. But she’s gone, sir.’

  ‘Gone! What are you talking about, man? Gone where?’

  ‘I don’t know, Captain. She said as how she was having to be moving on, and when I came to give her a hand to load her things, she’d already flitted.’

  Matt ran his fingers through his hair and clasped his head. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying, Josh. Why should she go, especially without telling me? You say you knew she was going? Why didn’t you get a message to me?’

  Josh drew himself up in a dignified manner, yet touched his forehead. ‘Beggin’ tha pardon, Captain, but it wasn’t my place.’

  Matt gave an exclamation. ‘Oh. No. Sorry. Of course not.’

  He put his hand to his mouth. ‘There has to be a reason,’ he muttered. ‘Something has happened.’ There came a vague recollection of something Toby had once said. Something about her being in trouble with the law. But she had never discussed it with him. They had never spoken about their pasts, either of them. They had always been so wrapped up in the present. He cursed himself for not asking before. She might well have had fears and anxieties that I didn’t know of, that I could have shared, helped her with, he thought.

  ‘There’ll be a note,’ he said abruptly. ‘Bound to be. I’ll go back and look.’

  ‘Yes sir.’ Josh had a frown on his forehead as Matt turned and raced back towards the cottage. ‘I hope as I haven’t made a big mistake,’ he muttered. ‘I allus thought gentry was different from ’rest of us, but I could be wrong.’

  There wasn’t a note, no sign to indicate where or why she had gone. Matt went down to the Trotts’ house to enquire, and then to the river for they seemed to think that she was catching one of the boats across into Lincolnshire.

  ‘Did she mention the ferry to you, Josh?’ he asked after returning from fruitless enquiries of the ferry men. ‘Try to remember if you can. What exactly did she say?’

  He watched Josh’s face. There was something he wasn’t telling him, he wasn’t looking him in the eye.

  ‘She didn’t exactly say she was going across ’river,’ Josh said slowly, ‘Though I got ’impression that that’s what she meant. And – and I think we mentioned London, though I’m not altogether sure of it.’

  ‘London! Good God, man. She’ll never get to London. Do you know how far it is?’

  Josh shook his head miserably. ‘It’s a long way, I believe, sir.’

  ‘A long way! The woman must be mad! How has she gone? Is she walking? She’s taken Sorrel?’

  ‘No sir, she’s taken ’donkey-and-cart. They were hers. She gave me ’money for ’em some time back and I bought ’em for her.’

  It had been planned then! A sudden anger brought a flush to his face. She’d never intended staying! Matt stared at Josh as he comprehended what had happened. She’d gathered some money together from selling her cloth and bought the donkey-and-cart and now she’d gone. She was probably off on another adventure. Well, men do it, he sneered sceptically. They have a good time with a woman and then clear off to pastures new. But why would she when they’d been so happy together? They had been happy hadn’t they? It wasn’t just him?

  He was suddenly aware that Josh had been speaking to him. ‘What? The goods? No, nothing this time. I told Annie – Mrs Hope – that we wouldn’t risk it this time. In about three weeks. Then we’ll have something for you. We’ll carry on as usual. If we can.’

  He turned and strode back to the cottage. He’d have one more look and then he’d have to leave; his crew would be getting anxious.

  The room seemed so bare and deserted. He sat down on the bed and stared into space. Nothing. She had taken all that was hers, but she had left Toby’s clothes and his boots, she had taken nothing that didn’t belong to her. Not even the gown which she could have had, for no-one else will wear it if not her, he thought, as he stared at it hanging there. No-one else will wear it. He stood up. No one. No-one. He picked up the knife which lay on the table and holding the blade high, lashed out at the flimsy fabric, ripping it with sharp sweeping violent slashes until it hung in shredded tatters.

  * * *

  ‘All hands on deck!’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

  He couldn’t wait to sail away. To leave behind the solid earth, the meadowland and the cottage which had been Toby’s, but where at last he had laid Toby’s memory to rest. And now it held nothing for him, not now that she had gone.

  ‘Helm’s alee!’ He uttered the warning cry as he put the helm down to swing the ship up to the wind.

  He’d told Josh that he would be back in three weeks but he doubted if he would return. I can’t face that river if she’s not going to be there to greet me.

  He barely spoke to his men, giving them orders only and not indulging in his usual conversation with them – although they respected him as their captain they were not afraid to speak or joke with him – most of them had crewed with him for a long time.

  They were two days and nights out into the German Ocean and the coastline of Holland had been sighted, when Parson White came to speak to him after supper. ‘Beggin’ tha pardon, cap’n, but some of the men, me included had been wondering if all’s well?’

  Matt looked up from his table and ran his hand over his eyes. He’d drunk too much brandy, he decided, his head was swimmy and he couldn’t concentrate on writing up his log.

  ‘All’s well? What do you mean? Hasn’t the bell been struck?’

  ‘Sorry, sir. I wasn’t referring to the nightwatch; no, the crew are concerned that you are a bit under the weather – not quite yourself, sir.’

  ‘Kind of them to be so considerate,’ he said sharply. ‘Give the men my compliments. I’m perfectly well.’

  ‘The landlubbers are going to be disgruntled that there’s nothing for them this trip.’ Parson White rumbled on. ‘I reckon most of them rely on us to
add money to their pockets.’

  ‘Well, there might be some changes,’ Matt replied abruptly. ‘There’s going to be another agent, and if it doesn’t work out we might have to find another port of call.’

  Parson White squinted through his one good eye. ‘Why would that be sir? Mrs—, erm, – the young gentleman that is, seemed to be doing well.’

  ‘Oh, give up, Master Parson! I know that you know, that Mrs Hope and the young gentleman as you call her, are one and the same. But she’s gone. She’s moved on elsewhere.’

  ‘Ah.’ Parson White had a keen sense of perception and turned down his lips. ‘And do we know why or where she’s gone sir? It just seems a pity,’ he added as Matt turned a sour look at him. ‘She seemed to fit in just right – with the running and such, I meant.’

  Matt rested his elbows on the table and put his chin in his hands. ‘No. I don’t know why or where, but only that she’s gone and probably not coming back.’

  ‘Women are strange creatures,’ Parson White said chattily. ‘They get strange fancies, but usually they’re happy to stay where they’re comfortable. Mrs Hope was comfortable enough, I fancy?’

  Matt nodded but made no reply.

  Parson White eyed the captain. ‘She’d want for nothing, I wager. Probably had more now than she’d ever had in her life: yet she should choose to leave!’

  ‘What are you getting at? Come on, man, spit it out.’ Matt heaved a sigh and sat back in his chair and looked at the former cleric. He forgot sometimes that the man had taken holy orders. He was an intelligent man and but for his misbehaviour with the ladies of his living, could have been ensconced comfortably in a nice house with servants, a carriage to drive and a goodly supply of food and drink.

  ‘May I sit down, sir?’ He placed himself into a chair before Matt could reply and nodded his head as Matt moved the brandy decanter towards him.