by Val Wood
As Annie raised her glass to his she realized that this was the first toast to her marriage. Tears started to scold her eyes and she couldn’t hold them back. ‘Mr Blythe,’ she cried huskily. ‘Can I confide in you?’
37
She tried to keep a straight face as she approached the shop and not let the joy she felt bubble over. She had told Mr Blythe about Matt being pressed into the navy and he advised that she go to his father at the earliest opportunity. It was possible, he’d said, that once Matt had returned to these shores, his father could use his authority to bring him home.
‘I can’t understand,’ he’d pondered. ‘Why he didn’t use his own influence. The navy doesn’t usually impress gentlemen into the service, though they might well have tried to persuade him to join them, especially with his experience in ships.’
Annie, too, was puzzled. She well knew that the navy badly needed men in the war against France. A bounty was offered to volunteers, but transportees and criminals who knew nothing of ships or sailing often had their sentences commuted to service on board ship. But Matt owned his own ship which was used in overseas trade, and he could, she thought, have demanded protection against impressment.
Except for Bernard Roxton, she mused. He would have had him, one way or another. Yet it wasn’t that, she felt sure. She recalled what Sergeant Collins had said to them. ‘You’re playing a game,’ he’d said. Toby had paid for his life with his game, and Matt too, she was certain, had finished playing games and had decided to repay society for his part in smuggling raids; and what better way than in service to the King?
She rattled on the door to be let into the shop. Rose was dusting the shelves and Robin was ticking off numbers on a list. They both looked at her expectantly as she entered.
‘Where’s Henry?’ she asked.
‘He’s playing upstairs. He’s all right, Annie, I keep checking.’
‘Will you fetch him down, Rose? I’ve something to tell you all.’
They looked at her curiously, but Rose hurried up and brought a protesting Henry downstairs. He put his arms out when he saw Annie and ran to give her a hug.
She sat down on a chair and lifted him onto her knee. ‘I have to tell you that from today there is a new owner of the shop,’ she said solemnly. ‘She will take over immediately and the new landlord of the property will no doubt want to speak of what he intends to do in the future.’
Robin groaned and banged his fist on the counter. ‘God’s teeth! I don’t believe it. Not Mrs Mortimer? She’ll drive all ’customers away! And Mr Ralph Mortimer? There’ll be no holding him. He’ll be arriving here in another fancy carriage and team, lording it over everybody, mark my words!’
Annie felt her mouth twitch and she drew in her cheeks to stop herself laughing out loud.
‘I don’t think we’ll stay, Annie.’ Rose whispered. ‘I don’t feel safe with that Mr Ralph, and if Fayther gives us some money we can maybe set up somewhere else, maybe have a stall in the market.’
Annie burst out laughing. ‘It’s all right,’ she hooted. ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m teasing. It’s mine. Mine and Henry’s. Mr Sampson left it all to us!’
They decided that it would be seemly to have a small celebration, that Mr Sampson, being the man he was, wouldn’t mind; so Robin went out to get a meat pie and a jug of ale, and Rose and Annie set out a table in the back room.
‘I’ve brought pig’s trotters, a meat pie, a pair of freshly cooked pigeon, some bread and an apple tart.’ Robin had borrowed a wicker basket from the baker. ‘That’ll keep us going until supper. Oh yes, and—,’ he dived to the bottom of the basket and brought out a bag of sticky marshmallow. ‘Some confection for the young master. Have to keep him sweet.’
Henry took it from Robin but instead of eating the sugary sweets, said with careful consideration. ‘Now that I haven’t got an Uncle Sampson, I think I’d like to go and see my grandfayther, please, Mamma.’
Annie stroked his head. ‘Yes, Henry. We will go. Not yet, but soon.’
Marcus Blythe had advised her to change the name of the shop as soon as possible. ‘Do it immediately,’ he’d said. ‘So that there is no speculation or gossip.’
‘But I don’t want to change the name,’ she’d protested. ‘It’s been Sampson’s draper for such a long time. It doesn’t seem right.’
‘Then don’t change it.’ He’d looked at her from under his beetling brows. ‘Just add your own.’
They watched a few days later, she and Robin, from the edge of the road as the sign writer put the finishing touches to Sampson & Hope, Draper.
‘I can’t believe it, Robin. It just seems impossible when I think about my past.’
‘I allus knew tha’d make summat of tha self, Annie.’ Robin smiled at her and squeezed her arm. ‘I allus said tha was a lady.’ Then he drew back in mock alarm. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. I was forgetting myself. I must remember to call you by your proper name now.’ He gave her a small bow and she laughed. He looked quite handsome these days and he still had a twinkle in his eye: he would pull the ladies into the shop, young or old.
‘Don’t call me Mrs Linton, Robin. Not here.’ Her face fell. ‘Not until Matt returns. Until then I’m Mrs Hope.’
‘But if you go to see Squire Linton? Surely then?’
‘Yes. Then I’ll be Mrs Linton, whether he likes it or not.’
He raised his eyebrows curiously. He didn’t know all the facts and she had no intention of discussing them. She had never told him of the time when she had slept in Squire Linton’s barn, or of the time when she and Matt had play-acted that she was a foreign widow. There were some things she would keep to herself.
A carriage drew up beside them and they moved aside so that a lady and her maid could descend.
‘Quick,’ Annie murmured. ‘Customer.’
Robin moved forward, a greeting on his lips as the imposing lady entered the shop, and Annie spent a moment longer gazing at her name above the window. She gave a half smile and was about to turn away when she saw a reflection in the window. The waiting carriage had thrown a dark shadow and in this shadow from across the road she saw the image of a girl.
For just a second she felt dizzy, for it was as if she was looking into her past. The girl’s hair was long and unkempt about her shoulders and her feet were bare, and she was staring across at the shop, as Annie had so many times done the same, when she had wished for new clothes for her back or food for her belly.
Slowly she turned. If the girl had gone, then it was some kind of premonition. I’ve come up from the scrap heap, she reflected. I must be careful not to fall back in to it.
The girl had gone! But wait; no, there she was, running away. It was Polly! ‘Polly!’ Unheeding of who was watching or listening Annie picked up her skirts and ran after her. ‘Polly! Come back. You can come back.’
The girl slowed, looking over her shoulder, and then hesitatingly, she stopped.
Annie beckoned to her. ‘Come here. I want to talk to you.’
Polly slowly shuffled towards her. Annie knew instantly that she had been sleeping rough. Her clothes were crumpled and dirty, she had no shawl and below her sleeves there were bruises on her forearms.
‘What happened, Polly? I mean after the Mortimers told you to leave?’
The girl bit her lip and looked at Annie with frightened eyes. ‘Me Da turned me out. ’Said if I couldn’t earn any wages then he wasn’t going to keep me. He said I could sleep in t’street for all he cared. So that’s what I’ve been doing.’ She stifled a sob. ‘I wasn’t doing no harm, Mrs Hope. I was only looking at what t’painter was doing, and wishing that I’d listened to thee when tha was telling me my letters and numbers, and then I’d have known what it said.’
‘It says, Polly,’ Annie said gently. ‘It says, Sampson and Hope. Did you know that Mr Sampson had died?’
‘Aye, I did.’ Polly sniffled. ‘I followed funeral carriage to church, though I didn’t go in. He was a fine gentleman, a
llus kind to me.’
‘Polly? Would you like to come back? The shop is mine now. I own it. I shall need someone to look after Henry.’
Polly’s face took on an aura of disbelief. ‘Oh, Mrs Hope. Yes please!’ Then she hesitated. ‘But, Mr Mortimer? Will he be there? I don’t want to come if—,’ she paused again. ‘But, I suppose I would come even if he was. I’m that hungry, Mrs Hope. I’d do anything now.’
Annie put her hands to her mouth and shuddered. Nothing changes, she thought bitterly. Life is the same as it ever was. If you’re in the gutter there’s always someone willing to stand on you as they pass by to better things.
‘He’s not there, Polly. I told you, it’s my shop now. I can do what ever I want. I have two nice people working for me, they’ll be kind to you. Come,’ she put out her hand and Polly put her dirty one in it. ‘But first of all,’ she grimaced. ‘We’ll have to get you clean!’
She sent her around the back of the shop and let her into the yard. ‘Take all of your clothes off,’ she said. ‘It’s all right, no-one will see you. I can’t risk taking fleas and bugs into my lovely cloth.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Polly asked suspiciously, although she started to unbutton her bodice.
‘You’ll see in a minute. Wait there.’ Annie went inside. Robin was still chatting to the customer and Rose was showing the maid some ribbons, they didn’t notice her as she slipped upstairs. Polly won’t stay if she thinks I’m going to dowse her, she mused as she took off her muslin dress and wrapped herself completely in an old smock which she used when she and Mrs Cook dusted the shop.
‘Right Polly.’ Polly was standing in the middle of the yard, her arms crossed about her pubescent body. ‘First we draw the water.’ Annie took the handle of the pump and drew off a bucket of water. ‘You can draw the next one.’
Annie threw the whole bucket full over the naked girl before she realized what was happening and she stood there gasping, a cascade of water running down her face and hair.
‘It’s not fair, Mrs Hope,’ she spluttered. ‘Having it thrown at me is bad enough, but having to pump another bucket full as well!’
‘It’s good for your soul, Polly and bad for the fleas. You’ll feel different again by the time I’ve finished with you.’
Annie too was soaked through by the time she had pushed Polly’s head under the pump for a final rinse down. Polly shivered and her teeth chattered and Annie wrapped her up in a large fustian sheet. ‘Upstairs you go, and try not to let any customers see you. There’s a fire lit and you’ll soon get warm.’
The shop was empty of customers and Robin and Rose both turned and stared as Annie and Polly put their heads around the door and ran, dripping water on to the polished floor, up the stairs to Annie’s room.
‘Shall I start work now, Mrs Hope? I’ll take Henry to the park.’ Polly buttoned herself into one of Rose’s old gowns which Annie had begged from her, being nearer in size to Polly than she was herself.
‘No. Today you can eat and sleep.’ Annie turned her around and tightened up the strings on her skirt. ‘I’ll make you a bed downstairs for now until I decide where to put you. Tomorrow we will talk about your duties. You shall have a proper job and a proper wage.’
Polly looked at her with bright trusting eyes. Dear God, Annie pleaded; if I look after this child, will You let somebody look after my poor bairn – my Lizzie?
* * *
They hadn’t realized how the time was passing. They had a profitable first six months, when people who hadn’t shopped at Sampson’s before, curious to see the new owner, came to look and stayed to buy. Annie put in new fixtures and shelves and fitted out alcoves with wax dummies to drape material in the latest style of London fashion, and displayed them with fashion magazines opened at the appropriate page. She put comfortable chairs by the display so that customers could sit and browse and whet their appetites with the finery sketched within the pages.
‘If only we had more room, Annie, we could sell more trimmings, and fans and reticules and bandeaux for the hair as well.’ Robin was always coming up with ideas for improvement and expansion. ‘Rose has some suggestions for trimmings to complement the material.’
‘I know she has, Robin. But we are drapers not haberdashers, and the haberdashers in the town wouldn’t be very pleased if we poached their customers.’
‘True,’ he admitted. ‘We wouldn’t like it if they started selling cloth and I suppose we couldn’t do both successfully. Still it’s a pity, Rose does have a way with trimmings.’
Annie smiled indulgently, he was so besotted with Rose. She saw the touch of hands as they brushed by each other behind the counter, and she knew that some of the customers saw it too for they would catch Annie’s eye and gave a small knowing smile, while the young ladies or maids would gaze at Robin with yearning eyes.
It was during the early months of summer and they had the door open to let in some air for the heat was quite intense; but then the dust from the road, as the horses and carriages clattered by, rose up in clouds and blew in through the door and settled on the floor and the shelves.
‘We’ll have to close the door, Rose, the cloth is going to get dirty.’ Annie watched Rose as she moved slowly to the door and stood with her hand on her hip taking in a deep breath. She was large with pregnancy but looked well and healthy and Robin was taking great care of her.
‘Mamma!’
Annie turned as Henry called her. He was standing halfway down the stairs, half dressed in his pantaloons with his jacket buttons fastened all wrong and Annie’s crocheted net purse in his hand.
‘I’m going to see my grandfayther,’ he announced. ‘You said I can go soon, and it was soon a long time ago. When Polly comes back from shopping we shall go.’
‘Indeed!’ Annie raised her eyebrows. ‘And don’t you want me to go with you?’
‘Oh, but you’re always so busy.’ He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. ‘So I decided I would take Polly instead, and Charlie,’ he added.
‘And do you know the way?’ she enquired humorously. ‘How will you travel?’
He pulled a face as he considered. ‘I haven’t worked that out yet, but I’ll tell Polly that she must find out.’
Annie sat on the stairs and pulled him down beside her. ‘It’s true I did promise you, and I hadn’t wholly forgotten, but I also explained how important it was that we made a success of the shop, so that we had money for food and clothes and the toys that you always want from the toy shop.’
‘But you don’t always let me have them,’ he complained.
‘No, we can’t always have everything we want, I’m afraid. Not straight away. Sometimes we have to wait for what we want.’
He pursed his lip. ‘Is that why I’ve had to wait to see my grandfayther? It seems like a long long time.’
‘It is a long time,’ she admitted. ‘And perhaps we’ve waited long enough. Could you perhaps be patient for a few more days until I prepare for our journey? And then we’ll go, and we’ll take Polly and Charlie too.’
She first visited Mr Blythe to tell him of her intentions. ‘How do you think Squire Linton will react to my calling? Should I write first and advise him that he has a grandson?’
‘Mmm,’ he mused. ‘I think that perhaps you should just arrive. It is possible of course, that he won’t be at home, in which case you will have had a wasted journey, but on the other hand, if he once sees the boy—!’
‘But he’s not very fond of children, so I understand.’ Annie thought of what Matt had told her of his own restricted childhood.
‘I have thought that he has changed over the last few years.’ Marcus Blythe leaned back in his chair as he spoke and tapped his finger tips together. ‘He’s lonely in that great house with only a couple of servants to talk to; he may welcome the company of his own flesh and blood. And if he doesn’t, then you will have to turn around and come back again. Tiresome, I know but – how will you travel by the way?’
�
��I thought I’d hire a chaise and driver, it’s too awkward a journey to travel post, especially if we’re not welcome and have to come back. Can I afford it, do you think?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Bless you, my dear, of course you can. But I have a better idea. You can take my chaise, and Lowson, he’ll take care of you; better than some driver you don’t know.’
‘Oh, but,’ she protested. ‘What will you do? Have you another carriage?’
‘A landaulette that I never use! The weather is good, I’ll use that for my business around York, I don’t intend to travel any distance. And don’t hurry back on my account, Mrs Linton. Take your time, and enjoy a change of scenery.’
Mrs Linton! Mrs Linton! How strange it feels to be called by that name. A shiver ran up her spine as she thought of the journey in front of her. This journey, she meditated, was more of a venture than any she had undertaken. A visit to a man who had once ordered her off his land, and the same man who had kissed her hand and wistfully desired that his son didn’t let her slip through his fingers.
‘Polly,’ she called as she ran upstairs to her room. ‘Pack our bags.’
Polly was sitting on the floor playing with Henry. They both looked up and Henry scrambled to his feet. Annie picked him up and swung him around. How heavy he was getting, too big now to be called a babby.
‘Henry Matthias Linton,’ she smiled down at him. ‘In two days time we are going to see your grandfather – Henry Linton.’
38
Polly complained of feeling ill for most of the journey and Annie had implored her not to be sick on any account on the fabric seats or moroccan cushions in Mr Blythe’s stately carriage. Henry was curled up in a corner, his box of lead soldiers on his knee and Charlie at his feet, watching the world go by as casually as if he regularly travelled in such a fashion. Annie gazing at the shimmering heat haze across the tranquil hills, worried about leaving the shop, even though she had arranged for two more assistants to come in and help Robin, for Rose was getting near her time of confinement and was becoming very slow and ponderous as her weight increased.
