by Val Wood
‘Mine,’ Arabella whispered. ‘I thought it would be good for everyone to see you.’
‘All right!’ John Laslett boomed. ‘Get back to work! You, lad, what’s your name? Take the waggon into the barn, rub the hoss down and turn him out into the fold yard. Better give him a feed whilst you’re about it. He’s too lean by my reckoning.’
Ben touched his forehead and dashed off to do his bidding and the other servants dispersed, except for Dolly who stayed behind to hand over the children to Jenny and relieve her of Thomas. ‘’Twins have missed you, ma’am,’ she said. ‘Johnny’s a right handful, but Serena’s as good as gold. Mr Laslett said we could have one of ’top rooms as a nursery if you agree to it.’
‘Thank you, Dolly. We’ll discuss it later.’ She took the twins and Christina into the sitting room, where the little girl played with Johnny and Serena sat on her knee.
Stephen limped across to a chair and fell into it. He heaved out a breath. ‘I don’t understand it. The journey’s exhausted me! I feel really unwell. I don’t like the sensation. I’m not used to it.’
‘You must rest now that we are here,’ Jenny told him. ‘I’ll get Cook to make you a pick-me-up.’
‘Yes.’ He gave a wistful smile. ‘Rum, honey, eggs. I made it for Agnes when she was ill.’
‘I remember,’ she said softly. ‘But Agnes had a fatal malady. You haven’t; you just need to rest.’
He nodded. ‘And get George Hill to visit. I’ll write. He won’t know that we’re here.’
‘Doesn’t your father like him?’ Jenny asked. ‘He said he was opinionated.’
‘The pot calling the kettle black,’ he grunted. ‘George came to visit him when I went away with Agnes. He pleaded my case and when Father refused to listen, George told him a few home truths. Father didn’t like that.’ He put his head back against the chair and sighed. ‘I think I will go upstairs. Write to George for me, will you, Jenny? Tell him I need to see him.’
When he had gone up to bed, Jenny sat pondering. Christina had brought a soft ball and was throwing it to the twins, but Johnny soon became bored with the game and stumbled across to the hearth where he attempted to pick up one of the fire irons. Jenny took it from him and put it back. It would be a good idea to have a nursery, she thought. Somewhere the children could play without endangering themselves or breaking anything. She glanced around the room. There were precious ornaments and glass bowls placed on child-height tables, which Arabella had previously told her had belonged to her mother; and which her father had kept in the same places since her mother had died.
None of this is mine, she thought. I would feel so guilty if the children were to break anything. Agnes had had nothing much, but what she and Stephen had was placed high where Christina wasn’t able to reach it when she was a toddler with inquisitive hands. Jenny watched as the children played. Christina with her merry smile was supervising the twins, Serena watching her sister’s every movement, but Johnny intent on playing his own games. They are all that I have, Jenny thought. I have nothing else of my own, not a dish or a wooden spoon, not a fustian sheet or a dishrag. But I have got my four precious children, worth more to me than any jewels or riches. She gazed fondly at Christina. No-one can ever take her away from me, she is mine alone. And because of her, this is my life. I must make of it what I can.
Arabella came into the room. ‘I’m so glad that you’ve come back, Jenny. Shall we be able to persuade Stephen to stay, do you think?’
‘Until he is well, yes. After that, I don’t know. It will depend on how he and his father get along.’
‘I’m going to have a little pony,’ Christina piped up. ‘So we have to stay.’
Jenny and Arabella glanced at each other. Little ears flapping, Jenny thought. ‘And you’re going to have a special room where you and the twins and Thomas, when he’s big enough, can play,’ she said to the child.
‘And perhaps someone to teach you your letters,’ Arabella said. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’
Christina clapped her hands, and Serena copying her did the same.
So? Jenny pondered. Is that how it is to be? It’s for the best, I think. For the time being at any rate. ‘That would be nice, Christina, wouldn’t it?’ she said. ‘To read some books and write your letters?’
‘I’ll write a letter to Papa,’ the little girl said. ‘When he goes back home to Lavender Cott.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Christmas came and went. Stephen and his father made an effort to be pleasant to each other, and although the three younger children were too young to understand or participate in the celebrations, Christina was petted and spoiled with presents and new clothes, for Pearl came with her husband Edwin and their three daughters for Christmas dinner, armed with parcels for everyone.
‘It is what we like to do, my dear,’ Pearl said to Jenny. ‘So don’t be embarrassed about not having presents for us. Our girls like to sew and make things and so we give them away at Christmas.’ The presents were not large or expensive, but simple things such as embroidered handkerchiefs, lace caps and pleated cotton bonnets, all beautifully sewn. ‘I do believe in young women being able to turn their hands to something useful, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Jenny answered as she watched all the little girls play together, and thought that the daughters of the rich Mr and Mrs Edwin Smith would probably not need to be able to do much more than turn a fine hem, but that if by mischance they fell on hard times then they would make excellent seamstresses.
On Boxing Day Stephen’s other sisters, Maud and Laura, with their husbands and daughters, visited them. The two women were rather distant towards Jenny, being the mother of sons she supposed, but they were warm towards Stephen. Christina became very excited at the prospect of having so many friends to play with. Arabella mistakenly referred to them as her cousins, but was immediately reminded by Maud that they were not, at which Christina cried, though not really understanding, and Mr Laslett gave her a bon-bon to comfort her and chastised his daughter for her insensitivity, which surprised Jenny.
The weather became very cold in January with a biting east wind, which kept them indoors. Stephen couldn’t walk well though his wound was slowly healing. Dr Hill had been to visit him and listened to his chest which he said was still weak, and decreed that he should spend each morning in bed and not get up until midday.
Arabella abandoned any attempts at running the household, and Jenny found she was increasingly making household decisions. She saw Cook each Monday morning to plan the week’s menu, and discuss the groceries and buying of food. She had to rely on Cook to tell her the best butcher for supplying a flitch of bacon, for they didn’t keep their own pigs, a good grocer for butter as they didn’t have a dairy maid; to say who sold the freshest fish and suggest the names of wildfowlers who could supply game, for John Laslett no longer went out shooting. Grain from the estate was sent to a local miller who returned it in sacks as flour or oatmeal, and vegetables were grown in the kitchen garden.
‘You’re doing well, Jenny,’ Stephen said one day. She had waylaid the maid and, taking the tray from her, had taken up his breakfast herself. ‘Now all you need to do is marry Arabella off to somebody and you can run the house for Father entirely alone.’
‘For your father?’ She looked at him with a sinking heart. ‘But – you’ll be here.’
He took a sip of coffee. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know.’ He put down the cup and said softly, ‘I don’t know if I can stay.’
‘But you are getting on quite well with your father.’ She pressed her fingers against her lips to stop them trembling. ‘Once you are well, and up and about, you can take over from him, or at least help him so that he doesn’t have to work so hard.’
Stephen shook his head. ‘I’ve been away too long. I’m out of practice at running a big estate. I’ve been used to doing things my own way, on a small scale. Besides,’ he said, ‘my father would always be master here; he’d make the decisions, about th
e harvest, about selling and buying cattle or sheep. I’d simply be working for him until such time as he drops dead in his boots, for he’ll never give up.’ He took a huge breath and said, ‘Only then would I be able to take over, and if I’m honest, I don’t know if I want to.’
She sat on the bed beside him. ‘So what shall we do?’ she said in a small voice. ‘Shall we go back to Lavender Cott? How will we manage?’
‘I’ll go back,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ll stay here with the children. I can make a living for myself. I don’t need much.’
‘But what kind of a married life is that?’ she asked. ‘When a husband is in one place and a wife in another?’
‘It does sometimes happen,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t mean a separation; it means that it’s best for all concerned. You and the children will be cared for, which is what I want more than anything. I don’t want you to suffer, Jenny, and I want the best life for the children.’
‘A life without their father?’ But as she spoke she realized that he was reverting to his own experience of childhood. He hadn’t been in close contact with his father, as she had been with hers by living within the confines of a small house with a large family. Their lives had been quite different.
‘You can bring them over,’ he said, ‘or I will come to see you. We can still enjoy our marriage rites.’ He spoke tenderly and lovingly and when he moved the tray from the bed and, holding her close, unfastened her gown and brought her into bed with him she was almost convinced. There were no children around to disturb them, no pressing tasks that must be seen to, and he was more loving, more passionate than he had been for a long time, when there had been so many worries and problems facing them. As she lay beneath him, she reflected that if she couldn’t persuade him to stay with her aroused and willing body next to his, then she could think of nothing else to convince him.
‘Just one thing I want you to promise me, Jenny,’ he breathed into her neck.
‘What?’ she murmured.
He nibbled at her ear. ‘If anything should happen to me –’
She pulled away and looked at him in alarm. ‘Nothing will –’ she began.
‘No. No,’ he soothed her. ‘Nothing will. But if it ever should. If I should die.’ He looked at her probingly. ‘I would want to stay at Lavender Cott. I wouldn’t want to be brought back here. I’d want to be buried in my own land.’
She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. ‘With Agnes?’ she whispered.
‘And our child,’ he reminded her. ‘Yours and mine.’
‘And so he went back,’ Jenny wrote at the beginning of March. ‘Stephen did try to have discussions with his father about farming methods and the running of the estate, but Mr Laslett is very set in his ways and is convinced that the old methods are best, and needs therefore always to be cajoled into trying something new. Stephen, of course, is the last person who would attempt to persuade anyone. Like his father he thinks he knows best, and so they were at an impasse. Also, Stephen was becoming anxious about leaving his land any longer; he hadn’t prepared it for sowing in the winter before we left, and thinks that now it will be too late. Also the gypsies will soon be on the move now that winter is over, and he doesn’t want to lose the dogs. That is his excuse at any rate, but I worry that he is not as well as he might be. I fear that the accident might have left him with some internal damage.
‘The children and I will visit him very soon. Mr Laslett is going to buy another dogcart which will be easier to handle than the present one, and Arabella said I will be quite welcome to drive it, as she is very nervous. I need to visit Stephen to tell him the news that next winter he is to be a father again. All the more reason, he will say, for us to stay here.’
‘Dr Hill to see you, ma’am.’ The maid dipped her knee. ‘Shall I show him in?’
‘Yes please.’ Jenny glanced at Arabella who was reading a fashion catalogue.
‘Shall I leave?’ Arabella asked. ‘Is he come about Stephen, do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said worriedly. ‘Please, Arabella, if you wouldn’t mind.’ He hasn’t come about me, at any rate, she thought, for I haven’t told anyone yet about the child.
Arabella held out her hand to Dr Hill as they crossed in the hall. ‘It’s always pleasant to see you, George.’ She gave a charming smile and lowered her lashes. ‘You should visit us more often.’
‘That’s kind of you, Arabella.’ He nodded soberly. ‘But I fear I have little time for social calls.’
She tapped him playfully on the arm. ‘Nonsense. You must make time for old friends.’ She made to turn away. ‘I have just remembered I have an urgent letter to write, but I shall be down shortly. Perhaps you will stay for tea?’
‘Regretfully I must leave immediately I have seen Mrs Laslett.’ He gave her a brief smile. ‘I have many sick people to see.’
‘Stephen is not ill?’ she asked in concern. ‘Do say he is not!’
His face closed up. ‘I must speak to Mrs Laslett,’ he said. ‘Please excuse me.’
‘Dr Hill!’ Jenny greeted him anxiously. ‘You haven’t brought me bad news?’
‘Mrs Laslett – Jenny. All is not well with Stephen,’ he said without preamble. ‘He asked me not to concern you, but I felt it my duty to do so.’
Jenny sat down and indicated that he should be seated. He took a chair opposite and leant towards her. ‘He really shouldn’t have gone back until he was recovered, but he’s a very stubborn man. Always was,’ he said brusquely. ‘He’s been working the land by himself since the gypsies left. He said that he hadn’t finished ploughing before he went to work on the railway, and so he’s been out day and night to finish it. Now the leg wound has opened up again and his chest is also very painful. It was quite by chance that I called to see him, and he was almost collapsed. I believe he has damaged his heart.’
‘I must go straight away,’ she exclaimed. ‘I should have insisted at the time that I went with him.’
George Hill shook his head. ‘He was determined to go alone. I don’t understand him. How could he leave you here?’
‘He wants ’children to stay here,’ Jenny confided. ‘He’s afraid that they, the boys, will lose their inheritance if they leave. He doesn’t want them to go through the anguish that he did.’
‘We must all make our own way in life,’ Hill said sagely. ‘Young Johnny might not want to be a farmer.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Jenny said quietly. ‘But then there’s Thomas and –’ she looked across at him and said in a low voice, ‘and whoever comes after.’
‘Are you caught with child again?’ he asked. ‘If you are, then Stephen is right. You must stay here. This will be your fifth pregnancy, Jenny.’ He counted on his fingers. ‘Christina. The stillbirth in ’62.’
‘Baby Agnes,’ she reminded him.
He nodded. ‘The twins in ’63, Thomas in ’64, and now –’
‘Late autumn I think, early November. I’m young and healthy,’ she emphasized.
‘Yes, I agree you are. But you must look after your health. Bringing up five children in a small cottage with little income would not be easy.’
‘My mother had ten living children,’ she said defiantly, but as she spoke she remembered the rush to the table at meal times, the sharing of beds, the handing down of clothes, and her parents being tired and irritable and her not understanding why.
‘If you stay here, you could perhaps employ a wet nurse?’ he suggested. ‘Mr Laslett would surely be willing to pay for one?’
‘No!’ Her manner was determined. ‘These are my children.’ Her voice dropped. ‘I have nothing of my own, Dr Hill. I have no possessions. I only have my children. And of those only Christina is my own entirely.’
‘Yes, I do understand. Very well. Go to see Stephen. Does he know of the child yet?’ When she shook her head, he said, ‘You must gauge how he is as to whether you tell him yet. It might be just the thing to make him feel better,’ he paused, ‘but on the other hand, it mi
ght add to his burden.’
He offered to drive her there, but she refused, saying that she would drive in the dogcart which had been delivered only a few days before. ‘If I go now, will I get there before dark?’ she asked.
‘It’s too far for the dogcart. They’re fair weather vehicles. It’s cold and wet and you would be soaked before you were ten minutes down the road. You mustn’t catch a chill,’ he urged. ‘Who would look after the children then? I will take you now or you must ask Mr Laslett for the carriage tomorrow.’
If I am to be mistress here, she thought, and it is looking increasingly likely that I am, then I should assert myself. ‘I’ll ask for ’carriage then,’ she determined. ‘And if necessary we’ll bring Stephen back here to recuperate.’
John Laslett insisted on accompanying her again, and she reckoned that sometimes he didn’t seem quite as black as he was painted, though she knew him already to be an impatient and irritable man. But his concern for his son seemed to be genuine. ‘I know we’ve had misunderstandings,’ he said, as they travelled. ‘But it’s hard for me to give up what I’ve been doing all my working life. If Stephen would work with me, by my side, if we could try again, then I’ll step back a pace, once I see that he is capable of running the estate. Sometimes’, he sighed, ‘I could wish to take things a little easier.’
Jenny considered what Stephen had said to her about being away too long, of being out of practice at running a large holding, and she brooded that perhaps he really didn’t want to come back, but was happiest where he was, being his own master.
When they arrived at the cottage gate mid-morning, a chaise was already there. ‘It’s Dr Hill!’ Jenny said. ‘He must be concerned to come again so soon.’ She was anxious and perturbed and her father-in-law took her arm to steady her and stop her rushing down the path.
