by Val Wood
‘You young varmint!’ John Laslett grunted. But he agreed the amount and said there was to be no slacking or they would be sacked, just like anyone else.
Arabella was out visiting most afternoons, so Jenny walked on her own down the sweet-smelling country lanes, listening to the chorus of birdsong, looking at the wild flowers which grew on the chalk soil; inspecting the ragged hedges for wrens and watching the deer on the high ridges. In the areas which were not cultivated there were masses of cow parsley, and banks of white dead-nettles swarmed with butterflies; rabbits ran unchecked, ox-eye daisies, red and white campion and forget-me-not were scattered everywhere, whilst high above her skylarks with their piping cry flew unseen, and sparrowhawks dipped and dived over hedges. Turtledoves crowed from the tops of young sycamore trees and she knew that she was lonely.
She stood by the window looking out one blustery day, wondering what to do with her time. Everyone was out, the routine of the day was organized, the meals arranged. I’m so efficient, she thought. The house is so well run that I’m almost superfluous. John Laslett’s voice boomed behind her. She hadn’t heard him come in. ‘What’s up, Jenny?’ he asked. ‘Nothing to do?’
She turned to him, her expression set. ‘I could find something, I’m sure. But there’s nothing that appeals. Too much sewing and planning makes me very dull.’
He looked steadily at her. ‘Marry that Brown fellow,’ he said. ‘He wants you to, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, he does,’ she admitted.
‘Well then!’ He leaned heavily on his stick. ‘Why not? We’ll manage, you know. I’ll stop Bella gallivanting about! Come and sit down and talk to me.’ He limped across to a chair. ‘And tell me why not! You’re too young to spend the rest of your life alone.’
How can I tell him? she pondered as she sat across from him. How can I say that I’m afraid? If I stay here then no-one knows me or anything about me. I’m sheltered and safe from pointing fingers and heedless gossip. ‘I’m needed here,’ she said weakly. ‘And I feel that by being here I’m giving something back to you for giving my children and me a home all these years.’
On his face was an expression of astonishment. ‘Is that how you feel?’ he said bluntly. ‘I didn’t realize. But your children are my grandchildren, my flesh and blood, and you were Stephen’s wife.’
But you disowned your son, she wanted to say, and was startled when he went on. ‘Do you not think that I have regrets over Stephen? Do you think that I haven’t had sleepless nights repenting of the things I’ve said? The things I’ve done or didn’t do? No,’ he muttered. ‘How could you?’
‘If I married again, you’d have no obligation to me,’ she said. ‘And – and I’d be afraid that I’d lose my children.’
‘You think that in a fit of pique, I might stop you from seeing your sons? Jenny!’ he exclaimed. ‘Your boys are almost grown! Soon they’ll make their own decisions about what they want to do, just as Johnny and Serena have done. I won’t let them down, not the way I let my son down. They’ll be safe, no matter what decision you take over your own life. There’s something else, isn’t there?’ he asked astutely. ‘Something you don’t wish to speak about?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted in a whisper. ‘I can’t speak of it and it has blighted my life.’
He looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Then I can’t help you.’
She wrote to Billy that afternoon. ‘Dearest Billy, I’ve made a decision regarding marriage, if, that is, you are in the same mind as before and still wish to take me as your wife. I have pondered long on the question and I want to assure you that the delayed answer was not because of any doubts of my feelings towards you, but because of my responsibility towards my children and my father-in-law, John Laslett, who has been most considerate of me since Stephen died.
‘I can bring nothing material into our union, for I’ve no fortune I can call my own, except for my sons and daughters who will, if we should marry, treat you with the respect you deserve. William in particular longs for a father he can talk to and I hope you realize that in taking me as a wife, you’ll also become stepfather to my children. If you don’t think you can take on this obligation, I’ll understand, and because of this I haven’t told anyone else of my decision. I realize that this letter may sound dispassionate, but I have held back my emotions for so long that I have difficulty in expressing myself otherwise. I would however assure you that I do and always did hold you in the greatest affection, regard and as my dearest friend. Jenny.’
She sealed the envelope, put on a stamp and called downstairs for one of the maids to take the letter immediately to the post, rather than wait for the following morning. It’s done, she thought as she watched the girl scurrying down the long track to the road, her cloak billowing in the gusty breeze. If I’d waited for the morning post I might have changed my mind.
It was late afternoon the following day when she heard the clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels coming towards the house. John Laslett had gone with Thomas and William to the haymaking, and Arabella was out on one of her interminable visits. Jenny rose from her chair and looked out of the window. Billy was jumping down from the trap. He hooked the reins over the foot scraper at the front door and bounded up the steps. She heard the bell peal and the clack of Dolly’s heels on the tiled floor as she went to answer it.
Dolly showed Billy in to her and closed the door. His face was flushed and his hair windblown, though he brushed his hand over it as he entered. ‘’Letter came this dinner time,’ he said without preamble. ‘I came straight away. I can’t believe – Jenny, I can’t believe that you’ll have me! You mean it, don’t you?’
She gazed at him and saw in his demeanour the bashful boy she once knew. The boy who had always loved her and yet had been too self-effacing to tell her, because she loved another. She smiled. ‘I mean it, Billy. I don’t know how it’ll work out, because I’ll want to see my family – but –’
‘It’ll work out, Jenny, don’t be feared o’ that.’ He stumbled over his words. ‘As long as we can be man and wife.’ He took hold of her hands. ‘I love you enough for both of us, and maybe one day you’ll feel ’same about me.’
He put his finger to her lips as she was about to dispute. ‘I know that you once loved Christy,’ he said. ‘And mebbe you loved your husband. I’d hope that you did. But that’s all in ’past now and we can look forward to a future together. It’s what I’ve always wanted, Jenny. I’ll look after you and love you and protect you, just as I’ll have to promise in church when we wed.’
She felt tears gathering in her eyes and she blinked them away. ‘You’re a good man, Billy Brown,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll do my best to be deserving of your love.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Billy thought there was no need for them to wait to be married, but he reluctantly agreed that the end of September, after harvest, would be best for all concerned. Jenny wanted Thomas and William to be at the wedding and they were always busy at harvest time. John Laslett asked if he could escort her to church. She wrote to Serena and Johnny to tell them and although there was no difficulty about Serena’s coming back, Johnny wrote that he might not be able to come home as he was due to be posted abroad. ‘There is continuing trouble in the Balkans,’ he wrote, ‘and now that Russia has declared war on Turkey we are on constant alert.’
‘There’s always trouble in the Balkans,’ John Laslett grunted when Jenny read out Johnny’s letter. ‘And Gladstone and Disraeli are forever at each other’s throats. I reckon there’ll be trouble in Constantinople before long.’
‘But Johnny’s so young!’ Jenny said fearfully. ‘Surely they won’t send inexperienced boys?’
‘He’s a soldier,’ her father-in-law barked. ‘He wanted excitement and adventure and that’s what he’ll get.’
‘That’s of no comfort at all!’ Jenny retaliated and stalked out of the room in tears.
I’m so afraid. Afraid for Johnny. Afraid for Christina. Afraid o
f everything. She sat by the writing table in her room and unlocked the drawer where she kept her pencils and writing pad. She stared down at them. Those notes had been her redemption. All of those years when she had been fearful of confiding in anyone, she had written in her notebooks, dozens of them, which were now hidden away under lock and key. Those secret pages, which contained her innermost thoughts, had been her deliverance, her atonement, somehow setting her free from liability and restoring her to some kind of sanity.
Billy deserves someone better than me, she thought. I know that he loves me and if I ever allowed myself to love anyone again, I could love him. But should I marry him? Is it fair? Will he ever wish that he hadn’t married me when fingers are pointed at Billy Brown’s wife? Don’t I remember her? they’ll say. Wasn’t there a scandal some years ago? Didn’t someone die?
She closed the drawer and locked it as she heard a quiet tap on the door. ‘Come in,’ she called, and John Laslett turned the brass knob and put his head inside.
‘He’ll be all right, I expect,’ he said apologetically. ‘Johnny, I mean,’ he added, as a puzzled frown creased her forehead.
‘Oh! Yes, I suppose he will.’ She was warmed by his unexpected condolence. ‘But it’s a worry, isn’t it?’
He nodded and withdrew. She unlocked the drawer again. I’ll write to Billy, she thought. I’ll tell him I’m going to stay with Christina for a day or two. I’ll see then how I feel when I’m in Beverley again. She shivered. I’ve Christina’s happiness to think of; how will she feel if there is tittle-tattle and gossip about her mother?
When she arrived at Christina’s, Charles’s mother was visiting along with two of her children. She greeted Jenny gaily and rang the bell for tea. Christina seemed subdued, Jenny thought, and when she enquired after Charles, it was Tilly Esmond who gave her the details of her son’s whereabouts, what time he had left and the approximate time of his return.
‘I’m pleased to see you, Mrs Esmond,’ Jenny said. ‘But I hope it isn’t inconvenient for you, Christina, to have me here to stay as well?’
‘Oh, not at all, Mrs Laslett,’ Tilly Esmond broke in. ‘The house is very large, too big really for two young people. I love it here, so Christina and Charles can expect me often!’ She gave a jolly laugh. ‘I’ve made such friends with Mrs Johnson – Harry Johnson’s wife, you know. We have so much in common.’
After they had had tea, Mrs Esmond went off to attend to the children, saying she would be back shortly. ‘Christina will look after you,’ she said blithely. ‘She’s such a dear girl. But she’s changed all the furniture around!’
Christina gazed at her mother. Her eyes glistened and her mouth trembled. ‘She’s very nice, Mama, and helpful,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘And the children are delightful. But –’ Her mouth pouted. ‘I wish she didn’t come quite so often, and Charles thinks the same. He was so pleased to have been given this house because he thought he would have his own life. But his mother has followed him here and is trying to persuade her husband to come and stay too!’
‘Mr Esmond may not come. He’s probably enjoying the peace of being on his own whilst his wife is here,’ Jenny murmured, sympathizing with her daughter. ‘Would you like me to say something? Maybe about young married people needing to be on their own?’
‘Oh, no!’ Christina declared. ‘I wouldn’t want to upset her; as I say, she is very kind and merry, but, well, I don’t feel as if the house is our own.’
‘I do know what you mean, Christina,’ Jenny said softly. ‘We must think of what we can do.’
Billy came for her in the trap the next morning. He was wearing a tweed jacket, cord trousers and a felt hat. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, for he was obviously dressed for an outing.
‘I thought we’d take a trip into Hull,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you my shops. One of my lads will collect ’trap at ’station and we’ll catch ’train. Go and get your hat.’ He smiled. ‘You never know who we might meet.’
Jenny dressed plainly, as she always did. She spent little money on herself and hoped that if she wore only plain colours, grey or black, then no-one would notice her, or, if they did, wouldn’t realize that she was wearing the same gown. But today Christina followed her into the bedroom, bringing with her a colourful silk shawl.
‘Wear this, Mama. You need some colour, you’re very pale.’ She looked anxiously at her mother. ‘Are you not well? Is something troubling you?’ She put her arms round her. ‘I do miss you, Mama. I love Charles, but I do miss you.’
Jenny kissed her cheek. ‘I miss you too, but I’m so glad that you are happy with Charles; and don’t worry about Mrs Esmond,’ she added. ‘She’ll tire of the travelling eventually.’
‘But that’s the worry, don’t you see? Perhaps she’ll want to come and live here permanently!’
‘Then Charles must put his foot down and insist they buy another house. He must speak to his father.’
She tied the shawl round her shoulders and looked in the mirror. Yes, the colour improved her pale complexion and emphasized her dark hair, which she had coiled around her ears. She put on her bonnet, but Christina exclaimed that it was too dull and dashed away to fetch one of her own.
‘It’s so nice to have some money to spend, Mama,’ she whispered on her return. ‘Charles said he’s going to spoil me! Here, try this one.’ She handed Jenny a silver grey pleated silk bonnet. ‘Perfect,’ she proclaimed.
Billy nodded his approval as Jenny came downstairs to where he was waiting in the hall. As she passed the open door of the library, she glanced in. Her eyes were drawn to the wall where the gun cupboard had formerly been, but it was no longer there and one of Christina’s pictures, a hunting scene with dogs, was hanging in its place. She shivered as she stared in and saw Charles’s desk in the same place as Mr Ingram’s used to be.
She felt pressure on her arm. ‘Let’s be off, Jenny,’ Billy murmured. ‘We don’t want to miss ’train.’
He chatted of inconsequential things as they drove to the station, gave over the care of the horse and trap to his waiting employee, and escorted her into the concourse where he bought tickets. Jenny thought with nostalgia of the once shy youth who had urged her to hold on tight in the open train carriage, who was now a self-assured successful man of business travelling first class.
They had the carriage to themselves and Billy turned to her. ‘You mustn’t dwell on ’past, Jenny,’ he began, as the engine got up a head of steam. ‘Try to put it behind you. I know it can’t be easy with Christina living in ’Ingrams’ house – it’s fate that your daughter should marry into that family. You just wouldn’t think something like that could happen, but it has, so you’ve got to make ’best of it.’
‘Christina doesn’t know,’ she began, but he interrupted her.
‘I know she doesn’t,’ he said. ‘And I think you should have told her; but that’s your decision and I respect that. Anyway,’ he said, taking hold of her hand. ‘Let’s not talk about such things now. I’ve got a surprise for you when we get into Hull.’
He wouldn’t be drawn on what the surprise was, and she gazed out of the window at the passing view. The day was warm and sunny and she began to relax. She took a breath when they arrived into the Hull Paragon station, and murmured, ‘Dear old Hull. A blind man would know when he’d arrived here. There’s still the odour of oil mills and fish oil and tallow. It’s really quite comforting,’ she added. ‘As if nothing’s changed.’
She felt a lump in her throat as an affecting sensation washed over her. A combination of nostalgia and sadness, which was both touching and poignant. Where are my ma and da? My sisters and brothers? I abandoned them. Never got in touch with them except for that one letter when I wrote to tell Ma that her sister Agnes had died, and that I had married. They know nothing of me, or of my children, or what I’ve done with my life. They don’t know if I’m alive or dead, as indeed they might also be. A sob crept into her chest and she wanted to cry, something she rarely did, so tightl
y did she keep her emotions in check.
‘Billy, I – I’d like to go down Whitefriargate.’ Her words were halting, and she looked across from the station concourse towards the town. ‘It’s where my family live. I’ve not seen them in a long time. I don’t know if they’d welcome me – but I’d like to go.’
Billy looked down at her. ‘They’re not there any more,’ he said quietly. ‘They moved. Got a chance of better housing.’
She gazed at him in astonishment. ‘How do you know?’
‘I told you that I’d looked for you, didn’t I?’ His neck reddened as he confessed. ‘After I’d seen you in Beverley that time, when Christina was just a babby, I went searching in ’villages around Beverley; Cherry Burton, Etton, all the big houses where I thought Stephen Laslett might live. I had it in mind that you’d leave his employ and marry me. But I couldn’t find you. Nobody seemed to know you, or if they did they weren’t saying. Anyway, then I thought I’d look in Hull. I thought mebbe you’d come back to live with your family.
‘Well, I found them after a lot of effort, and just in time, cos they’d been offered a shop with rooms, just out of town on Spring Bank.’
‘A shop! They’ve got a shop?’ She gazed incredulously at Billy.
‘Aye. Your ma and one of your brothers run it. I’ve kept in touch with them and they said they’d tell me if ever you turned up. But of course you didn’t.’ She saw a tenderness in his eyes and realized just how long and faithfully he had cared for her.
‘I’m sorry, Billy,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t know.’
He shook his head. ‘How could you?’ he said. ‘You were making another kind of life, getting married, having bairns. And nobody knew where you were,’ he added. ‘Nobody at all.’
How well we kept ourselves private, Stephen, Agnes and I, she thought as she walked at Billy’s side towards the ranks of horse cabs waiting outside the station. We wanted solitude and shelter from gossip, and even after Stephen’s death I was still afraid of being found out; frightened that people might discover who I really was. ‘So is that where we’re going?’ she asked nervously. ‘Is that the surprise?’
