by Val Wood
He lifted his glass and reflectively studied the amber liquid. He spun it around the glass and then held it between his hands to warm it. Matt lit a candle and placed it in the middle of the table and the parson leaned forward and rotated the glass above it, warming the drink. He sniffed it appreciatively and then took a sip.
‘This is good,’ he nodded. ‘We must try for more of this,’ and it seemed to Matt that they could have been cronies in a gentleman’s club and not man and master on board a sailing ship.
‘As I was saying, sir. There has to be a reason for a woman leaving, or a man for that matter, and in my own experience, it’s usually the man who cuts and runs. It would have to be something very serious for a woman to leave the place where she’s most comfortable: they have no rights, as we know, the poor unfortunate creatures. Where would she go for one thing?’ He took another sip of brandy. ‘If she’s a lady, she might go to her family, though it’s doubtful that they would want her back. And if she’s not a lady—.’ He glanced at Matt: ‘then there’s only one way to go, I should say, and that’s downhill, for though she might get work – as a servant or a maid in an inn or such thing, it’s a very precarious existence for a woman, fraught with every kind of danger.’
Matt stared, horror-struck. He’d been so overcome by his own loss that he hadn’t thought that Annie might be in peril.
‘So, what we have to establish is why Mrs Hope went.’ The parson reached over and helped himself to another tot. ‘She has either done something dreadful and is running away to escape the law and its consequences – and I know only too well about that subject – or she has a conscience about something and can’t face you.’
‘You see.’ He stretched out his legs and crossed them. ‘I ran away several times, but only when I got found out or when the women were starting to bother me, as women do from time to time. It was a pity,’ he said, ‘for I was often very comfortable, but they would make demands on me, or start getting possessive, or pregnant, and then they would want me to marry them, and I couldn’t – for I was already married – several times.’
Matt smiled in spite of himself, the man would be in gaol if ever the law could catch him.
‘Yes,’ Parson White continued. ‘I remember one of my wives; the third one I think it was.’ He sighed. ‘She was a pretty little thing, but she started to get all kinds of strange notions when she became pregnant. They change you know,’ he added, ‘they become quite different, not rational. Anyway, she got these fancies that I wouldn’t love her when she became fat, and that I would go off with someone else if I was given half the chance. Which, of course, is exactly what I did do.’
* * *
Matt stood in the prow of the ship, his feet apart and his arms folded across his chest. The wind blew through his hair and he watched without seeing as the Breeze cut through the foaming waves. Above him the night canopy glittered with a million stars.
She’s expecting a child! Our child! Why didn’t she tell me? Did she think I would abandon her or not want her any more? Surely she knew me better than that? Out of his despondent melancholy came the recognition that she didn’t know him, that she only had a general opinion of men of her own class, and by her own admission had been hurt by them.
Why should she think that I’m any different? I could be worse. Men like me do take advantage of women like her, women without money or hope; they use their bodies for their own satisfaction and then abandon them, just as Parson White said. How cruel I must have seemed when I first met her – so harsh. And if indeed she loves me as she says she does, then she wouldn’t want me to be compromised and she wouldn’t want to be just taken care of – not with money – like some doxy.
He leaned against the bulwark and stared into the distance. How intolerable for her. He thought of his friend Greg and his question, ‘What will you do with this wonderful woman?’ Annie wouldn’t know of my intentions, even I don’t know what they are, I haven’t thought about it. I’ve just been so besotted by her. But I would never abandon her, or my child. My child! He felt a warming of his spirit. A child of his loins.
He turned towards his cabin below decks. He’d try to sleep. Tomorrow they would reach Holland. They would load as quickly as possible for an immediate turn around. With luck and a following wind they would reach home shores in just a few days and he would set in motion all posible means at his disposal of finding her and bringing her back.
But he lay sleepless and restless in his bunk. She had already disappeared once, from her life in Hull. Was she being searched for by someone from that town? She had hidden from the world in Toby’s cottage and he had protected her.
He sat up and put his head in his hands. She could so easily disappear again, only this time she might not be so lucky to find someone like Toby. The possibilities of the hazards facing her loomed large and menacing and he was gripped by a grim cold fear.
Part Two
28
Annie looked down from the window into the street and saw the regiment of soldiers trotting by, the flash of their scarlet tunics brightening the dull day.
‘Henry!’ She called to the child playing on the floor with his wooden bricks. ‘Come here and see the soldiers.’
The little boy came to her and lifted his arms for her to pick him up that he might see out. She stood him on the wide oak windowsill and he pressed his nose against the small-paned glass. ‘Where they go, Mamma?’
‘Back to their barracks for their breakfast,’ she smiled at him and planted a kiss on his fair head. They’ve been practising their killing games, she thought. What violent times we are living in. A reign of terror raging in France, Louis XVI and his queen dead, and England at war with France.
‘Mrs Hope! Mrs Hope!’
Henry lifted his head and chortled. ‘Mrs Hope, Mamma!’
She opened the door of the room and looked down the stairs. ‘Yes, Mr Sampson? Do you need me?’
‘If you could just come down.’ The elderly man, clad in a silk embroidered waistcoat and an old-fashioned frock-coat and curled wig was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking anxious. ‘Mrs Downham has come in and insists on seeing you.’ He looked rueful and whispered, ‘It seems that the proprietor of this establishment is no longer good enough for the lady.’
Annie laughed. ‘I’ll be down directly.’
She put her son into his cot and gave him his bricks to play with. ‘Stay and play, there’s a good boy. Mamma won’t be long.’
Henry pulled a lip. ‘Where’s Polly?’
‘Polly will be here soon. Now be good, I’m only in the shop, not far away.’
She took off her apron and hung it behind the door, and looked into the mirrored glass on the wall. A composed dispassionate face stared back at her as she smoothed her hair, which she wore in a coil at the back of her neck, and adjusted the lace edging on her bodice. Turning away with a small sigh she lifted the hem of her grey dress and hurried downstairs to greet her customer.
Mrs Downham had taken a fancy to Annie when she had come into the shop and met her for the first time. She had watched as Annie draped satins and velvets across the oak counter, swathing them into drapes and simulating skirts and trains, and listening as Annie made suggestions for trimmings and accessories.
Since then she had been a regular customer and Mr Sampson was only too pleased, for not only had Annie released him from the pressure of suggesting styles for ladies of ample build like Mrs Downham, but word had spread of the new assistant at the draper’s shop who knew about cloth and who had even brought samples with her that couldn’t be bought elsewhere.
As she courteously greeted Mrs Downham, Annie recollected the first time she had attended her. It had been her first day as an assistant and she was so nervous, wondering what she would say to the fine ladies who came into Aaron Sampson’s drapery shop.
‘You’ll be all right,’ he’d said to her. ‘You know more about brocades, damasks and flowered satins than they do, they’ll trust in your judgemen
t.’
But I don’t know much, she’d thought at the time, for though she hadn’t lied to him about her past, she had embellished a little about the length of time she had handled and sold cloth. But Mrs Downham had been impressed and she had bought some of the muslins which Annie had brought with her and sold to Mr Sampson.
Today Mrs Downham only wanted new gloves to match a garment she had ordered previously. Annie wrapped them for her and opened the door and wished her good-day, and then turned with a broad smile to Mr Sampson.
‘I could have done that,’ he said, grumbling in a jocular manner, ‘But no, it has to be Mrs Hope! Still,’ he said approvingly. ‘You were right, I’m glad you suggested that we stock gloves and fans and such, it’s been a nice little sideline.’
Annie nodded and listened. She heard Henry call for her. ‘Where’s Polly?’ she asked. ‘She’s late.’
‘I sent her on an errand, she’ll be back presently.’
‘Good, she can take Henry for a walk and then perhaps we can change the window display. I thought we could have something patriotic, red and white, like the soldiers uniforms, with a swathe of black satin like their boots.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re amazing, Annie. Why didn’t I think of that.’
‘Why don’t you go up to my room and make a dish of tea and talk to Henry while I empty the window?’ she suggested. ‘We shan’t be too busy just yet, the morning is too grey and unsettled for the ladies to venture out shopping.’
She knew he would need no further persuading. He loved to play with the little boy, he’d had no children of his own, and said he hadn’t missed them, but he would dearly have liked grandchildren to spoil.
He had been so kind to her, especially that first day when she had arrived in York, unsure of herself and her surroundings. ‘You were like a lost soul that day,’ he’d said later when he knew her better.
And indeed she had been lost, her spirit was lost, her strength was lost after the long, long journey from Hessle to the Wolds, across to Market Weighton and down towards the bowl-shaped valley that was the Vale of York.
She had set off in darkness, taking the paths she knew and skirting the town of Hessle to avoid being seen. She regretted not seeing Robin, but she was sure that he would have tried to persuade her to stay or else insist on coming with her. She’d found a sheltered spot within a copse and spent the long night huddled beneath a blanket and it was then that misery had descended, she thought of all she had lost and wept in despair.
When the morning broke and the first streaks of dawn stroked the receding night sky, she’d moved on; she’d shivered with cold and so walked at the side of the donkey to try to get her blood warm. She ate at midday and then was sick and nauseous and vowed she would only drink water for the rest of the day.
But as chance would have it, she had seen Mr Sutcliff and Rose driving towards their village and they had both insisted that she should go home with them and spend the night there. In the bedroom that night she had confided in Lily and told her that she was heading for York.
‘Don’t tell of me, Lily, will you?’ she’d asked. ‘I don’t want Matt to be charitable towards me. I want his love, not his pity.’
Lily had listened wide-eyed at her story and said how lucky she was to be carrying her lover’s child. ‘It’ll be hard for thee, but tha’ll always have some reminder, Annie, not just a ribbon.’ She’d touched the ribbon in her hair, ‘but something tha can love instead.’
As she had driven away the next morning Rose had come to her and asked about Robin. She’d smiled at the girl and touched her cheek. ‘Be patient, Rose, I’m sure he’ll come for you one day.’
But she wasn’t sure, she wasn’t even sure that Robin would agree to becoming an agent for the contraband goods. He was such an honest lad, she mused as she’d cracked her whip and headed off down the rutted frozen track – he would probably rather work in the quarry doing honest hard labour than sully his hands with illegal goods.
She emptied the window of the display and fetched a cloth to dust away the cobwebs and grime that had accumulated since she had last cleaned it – and watched through the new, squared, plate glass window, which had replaced the bow-shaped bubble glass, as Polly sauntered down the street, with a basket in her hand. The girl saw her watching and immediately quickened her step.
‘Sorry, Mrs Hope. I got delayed.’
Polly had been employed, at Mr Sampson’s insistence, to help look after Henry and run errands, so that Annie would be free to help him in the shop. But she was lazy, and Annie had caught her on two occasions fast asleep in a chair with Henry wide awake and wet and hungry in his cot.
Still, she’s just a child, she thought, as she draped a length of red satin over a stand, twelve years old; I shouldn’t expect so much. She’ll be about my Lizzie’s age, I should think. She sighed, where has the time gone to? She thought back once more of her journey towards York after leaving the warmth of the Sutcliff household.
What a simpleton I was, thinking that I should be able to travel alone, just me and my donkey. She remembered the bitterly cold frosty nights, when she’d slept in the cart, and the muddy impassable roads once the thaw had started. And she shivered when she thought of the footpad who had held her up, who had kept his hand on the donkey’s snaffle and demanded money from her.
She’d held out a money bag towards him. It had three coins in it, the rest of her money was tucked securely beneath her skirts, where, she had vowed it would stay. I’ll be raped or murdered before anyone gets their hands on that.
He’d taken the bag from her and emptied it into his hand. ‘Is this all tha’s got?’
‘Aye. If tha relieves me of that I’ll have nowt to buy bread with.’
‘There’s no place up here where tha can buy bread,’ he’d grinned and put the money in his pocket. ‘So tha’ll not be needing it.’
He’d demanded she open her packs in the cart, and she’d deliberately opened one which had contained rich velvets and heavy satins, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sell them as they would look so obviously like stolen goods.
‘Would tha rob thine own kind?’ she’d been emboldened to ask.
‘Think thaself lucky tha can keep yon donkey,’ he’d growled. ‘Tha must have had money for that.’
She’d shaken her head and lied. ‘It’s not mine, it’s my master’s. If tha takes that he’ll have ’constables after thee.’
He’d let go of the snaffle then and slapped the donkey’s rump. ‘Go on then,’ he snarled. ‘Get going before I change me mind.’ He stepped away, but the donkey who was normally mild, took exception to the blow and lashed out with her back legs and caught him on the shin. Annie cracked her whip and left, leaving the thief hopping on one leg and cursing.
As she arranged her display she nodded to several people who were passing by, a butcher from the Shambles, his apron splashed with blood, a floury-faced girl going home from the bakery where she had spent the night kneading dough, and a young maid who called often on her mistress’s errands. Then her eye caught sight of someone crossing the street and she groaned inwardly. Mrs Mortimer, Mr Sampson’s sister, and she was coming straight towards the shop.
Annie gave her a polite smile as she entered the door, the bell jangling loudly.
‘It’s time that clapper was fixed.’ Mrs Mortimer gave no other greeting. She leaned heavily on a striped parasol which was made of the same material as her walking dress which showed beneath a short grey cape. ‘It’s far too loud. Is Mr Sampson at liberty?’
‘Good morning Mrs Mortimer. Yes, he’s upstairs. I’ll tell him you’re here.’ Annie knew that Mrs Mortimer didn’t like her, had never liked her, but the feeling was mutual. Annie considered that she was mean and grasping; she ordered her brother around as if he was still a callow youth, and seemed to consider Annie a threat.
Mr Sampson moaned when Annie whispered to him that his sister was here. ‘She gives me heartburn,’ he complained. ‘She’ll ruin the
day with her grousing.’
Annie continued with her window display while Mr Sampson took his sister to the small room at the back of the shop where a fire burned and where the draper took his midday meal of ale and bread and cheese.
‘I’m just a simple man,’ he’d told her when he first offered her the position of assistant and the use of the room upstairs. ‘I can manage here for what I want,’ and in the evening he went home to the small lodging house in Jubbergate.
She draped a swathe of black satin along the base of the window and remembered standing at the top of a hill and gazing down into the valley, wondering if the donkey-and-cart would get down safely or if the steep descent would tip them all over. She’d had to take a rest from the long pull up the hill and had marvelled at the landscape unrolling in front of her. It had been almost midday and the mist was still lying like a mantle in the valley bottom, but as she watched, it had lifted like the raising of a diaphanous skirt until the whole valley lay open before her.
A troop of soldiers had ridden up and she’d called to them, asking where she was. ‘That’s the Vale of York,’ the trooper captain had said. He’d looked at her mode of transport. ‘Two days and you can be in the city itself. We’ll help you down the hill if you like.’
She’d accepted gratefully, for she had been exhausted. One of the soldiers ran a lead to the donkey’s snaffle and another had tied a rope to the cart to hold it back, and together they had descended into the valley bottom.
But it had taken her longer than he’d said because she had been so weary that she had tethered the donkey to a tree, and climbed back into the cart and slept for a whole day. It had started to rain, clearing away the remaining drifts of snow, but dripping in through the tarpaulin which covered her and her precious parcels of cloth.
She’d moved on when she’d felt better and on crossing a stone bridge over the flowing river Derwent, she’d stopped again. Willows were bending their slender naked branches towards the water and she too bent to wash her hands and face, and brushed her hair with the silver brush which had belonged to Toby and Matt’s mother, and which she had decided she could reasonably claim as her own. Take what you need, Toby had said, and she needed this reminder of what had been, for she felt very lonely.
