by Ashe Barker
She was not entirely sure what their connection was, but Victoria had meant what she said when she offered the woman sanctuary as they parted in Farley two years earlier. It had taken just six months before the overbearing bully Violet had so unwisely married managed to sprain her wrist when she attempted to defy him over the choice of meat for their Sunday lunch. Six weeks later he pushed her so hard she found herself sprawled across the dining room table, and a week after that he landed his first real punch to her face.
And his last. Violet decided enough was enough. She waited until the reverend was ensconced in his study working out the finer points of his next sermon and took the opportunity to collect together as many of her belongings as she could carry. She slipped out of the back door and two days later she presented herself at Wynne House to apply for a position as housekeeper.
Victoria was unable to accommodate her in that regard since Mrs. Jenner had arrived from London to manage their domestic affairs. Between Adam Luke’s old housekeeper and their own Mrs. Bridger, Wynne House ran like one of Seth Ackroyd’s well-oiled machines. There was no vacancy.
Violet refused to simply remain as a guest, despite Victoria’s urgings, so a compromise was arrived at. Violet took over the running of the mill school, and had demonstrated some considerable aptitude for the work. A naturally gifted teacher, she had expanded the range of subjects so children now learned all the sciences as well as the rudiments of French. Victoria was delighted with the progress and was considering extending the school to provide a small gymnasium.
Of the Reverend Winters, they had heard no word at all.
Voices in the outer office heralded the arrival of the birthday girl. Moments later Julia bounced into the room, her hair splattered in oil and her rough wool trousers smeared with the grime of the mill floor. She was closely followed by Seth Ackroyd, his apologetic expression telling Victoria all she needed to know.
She was careful not to raise her voice. “Julia, I asked you to remain clean. I was most specific. Your party starts in less than an hour.” Victoria surveyed the child, and dismissed at once the remotest prospect of rendering her even vaguely respectable by three o’clock.
“I’m not very dirty.” The note of defiance was always there in Julia’s tone, however gently Victoria spoke to her.
Victoria shook her head. “I beg to differ, but it is done now. Would you run home straight away and ask Mrs. Jenner to draw you a bath? A good, hot one, I think. And we will be requiring extra soap…”
Thank goodness for the indoor plumbing. Victoria reflected that Georgina was absolutely right to insist upon modernising Wynne House as soon as their fortunes became stable once more. It had been a Godsend in the relentless task of keeping Julia fit to be seen among decent folk.
“I’m sorry, Miss Wynne. I told the lass she had to go straight home after school, but she sneaked back in as soon as I turned my back and the next thing I knew she was scrambling about under the loom. I pulled her out as soon as I spotted her an’ brought her here.” Seth’s tone was gruff; he was attempting to be stern but failing.
Julia knew it, as she had from the moment she first met her friend and idol and wound him firmly around her little fingers. She grinned at the chief engineer, oblivious to his words of criticism. “The loom was broken. It hasn’t worked for three days. I fixed it, like you showed me, Uncle Seth. I replaced the pins in the combing mechanism, all of them—”
“Aye, an’ it works fine now, lass. But like your mama says, you look a right state.”
“Julia, home, now. Bath.” Victoria managed to inject a note of authority of her own, and at last the child seemed suitably impressed.
“Yes, I’m going. But I won’t use extra soap.” She stomped off down Victoria’s private stairs as those remaining in the office managed to conceal their grins.
“Well, at least the loom was not operating.” Victoria was thankful for small mercies, though she knew her ward had far too much sense to endanger herself in such a manner. Seth had taught her well.
“She’s a handful, yon lass. But a born engineer.” Seth’s observation was delivered with a note of astonishment tinged with pride.
“Yes, perhaps. But you have refined any natural talent she may have had. I owe you my thanks, Seth, for your patience with her.” Victoria turned to her chief engineer. “I trust you will be available to join us for a slice of birthday cake this afternoon?”
“Aye, I wouldn’t miss it. Me an’ one or two of the other lads might pop across for a half hour.” He wiped his hands on the back of his stained work trousers. “You may need to be orderin’ in even more soap.”
“Excellent, I will survey our stores, just to be certain.” The pair exchanged a grin as Victoria tidied her desk ready to leave for the day. “Now if you will all excuse me, I must check that Mrs. Bridger has all she needs. And make sure Harry is ready for the party. Until three o’clock then.” Victoria took her leave and followed Julia down the stairs.
* * *
It had been a difficult couple of years in some respects, Victoria mused as she made her brisk way along the lane toward Wynne House. Julia was a demanding child, and whilst the Reverend Winters’ attitude and actions were reprehensible, she could understand how matters had degenerated so quickly as soon as Julia moved into the vicarage at Farley.
The first confrontation between Victoria and her new ward had been over what constituted suitable clothing. Julia loathed wearing dresses, and Victoria soon learnt that those that could be coaxed onto her had to be quite devoid of frills and lace. Julia was happiest in her old clothes, plain shirts, and boys’ trousers of all things. Victoria had tried her best to cajole her ward into more proper attire, but the child just shouted and screamed and stomped off to her room.
“She is testing us, my dear. Let us not forget, she has had three homes in her short life already. We must be patient, allow her to settle here, and to trust us that this is to be her permanent home.” Hester Wynne, wise as ever, had spoken sense and Victoria had decided to let the matter drop. She and Julia compromised on plain dresses, and agreed that trousers, if worn, must be clean. And Julia was to dress nicely for company, which included her own birthday party. Despite her defiance earlier, Victoria had no doubt the girl would do her best to keep her side of their bargain. Even now she was probably scrubbing at her grime-encrusted knees.
That was how it worked between them. Julia respected Victoria, and the feeling was mutual. They dealt honestly with each other, and had arrived at a place that suited them both. Victoria had quickly grown fond of her strange little charge, and she knew Julia loved her, in her own belligerent way. Theirs was not a relationship built on cuddles and sentimentality. Julia remained reserved with her new guardian, and whilst perhaps not ideal, Victoria felt that this was a situation they could live with because her ward received all the overt affection she required from Mrs. Wynne and Violet.
From the outset Julia had adored Hester, and Victoria was glad of it. It was her mother who seemed to understand the small, shy girl who covered up her fears with a show of boisterous, noisy mischief. When her aunt Violet unexpectedly appeared at their door, her suitcase in hand, the child was overjoyed. This was one of the reasons Victoria was so determined to find a place for the newcomer in their home. In her short life Julia had lost first her mother, then her father. She had lost Violet once, and Victoria had no wish to see that happen to her again. It was clear the pair were close, theirs an easy affection based on years spent just the two of them.
Victoria had always been uneasy at the apparent ease with which Violet allowed her to remove Julia from the vicarage in Farley. Violet had made no attempt to dissuade her from leaving. Indeed, she seemed unable to chivvy them from the house fast enough.
Now, seeing them reunited, Victoria fully appreciated the wrench that parting had truly caused to the pair of them. It was evident that Violet loved Julia. She always had, and having come to know her well over the months since
she arrived, Victoria now understood how deeply the other woman felt she had failed the little girl placed in her charge by marrying that dreadful man. The least her doting aunt could do to rectify the situation was see her little niece safe.
Violet always knew how much Adam loved his daughter, and Violet trusted his judgement in selecting a guardian for her. So when faced with an impossible situation she sent Julia off with Victoria. It was an unselfish act, borne out of desperation and guilt.
Victoria knew as well as anyone what lengths a woman might go to, if she was desperate.
Violet had been able to shed light on a puzzle that was uppermost in Victoria’s mind. In response to Victoria’s probing, Violet divulged what she knew of Julia’s history.
She explained that she had herself first met Julia when the child was just two years old. Adam had arrived with her at the house Violet then shared with Charles Luke, her first husband and Adam’s younger brother. He had explained to them that the toddler was the product of a somewhat turbulent liaison he had enjoyed with a woman whose husband took a lax attitude to his wife’s conduct. Adam and Charlotte had had an affair, on and off, for a number of years, and Julia was the product of it. The little girl certainly bore a close resemblance to her father, and to her uncle, so Violet saw no reason to doubt the claim. Neither, it seemed, did Adam.
He explained that Charlotte and her husband had been living apart when she had taken a fever and died suddenly. The grieving widower wanted nothing to do with a child he knew not to be his and he refused to accept Julia into his household. Adam’s relationship with Charlotte was an open secret, so when faced with this dilemma her husband had contacted Adam and insisted that he assume responsibility for the bewildered little girl. Adam had agreed to do so readily enough, and sought to place her in the safekeeping of his brother and sister-in-law. He provided amply for her, and the arrangement had continued after Charles’ untimely death. It would no doubt have endured much longer still had Violet not been so overcome with loneliness as a widow that she mistakenly allowed herself to be drawn in by the flattering attentions of the respected clergyman. The Reverend Winters had resented the child on sight and had declared that other arrangements must be made.
Violet agonised over that, but gave in and proceeded with her marriage plans. Adam assured her he would bring the child to live with him, and Violet genuinely believed that would be a good arrangement. It was about time Julia really got to know her father. Unfortunately his sudden demise threw those plans into confusion, and before Violet knew it the pair of them were living at Farley Vicarage, and her new husband was working out how he could turn this tragedy to his benefit. He had absolutely no concern at all for the sad little girl who he preferred to keep locked in her room, and who was indeed an orphan now.
Victoria’s arrival at their door, and her declared intent to take Julia to Yorkshire, looked like a blessing to Violet. She would miss her, but she suppressed her own feelings in the matter in order to secure a safe haven for her niece.
As for Julia, almost as soon as she arrived at Wynne House she took to disappearing for hours on end. Victoria panicked, believing she might have run away or become lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. Hester knew better. Julia only ever went as far as the mill, hiding in quiet corners, watching the frantic activity in the workrooms. She was fascinated.
This was something Victoria did understand; she had been much the same herself at Julia’s age. Her father had often taken her to work with him, and Victoria had learnt her trade at his side. She invited Julia to come to the mill with her, and the child was happy to trot along the lane each morning and would have spent the entire day at the mill if Victoria had not insisted that she go to school first.
Victoria decided against sending Julia to the elementary school in the town, preferring to educate her in the mill school. Julia was a little younger than the other pupils there, but she was a bright child and the teachers were impressed with her.
As soon as classes ended she would be darting across the yard and into the mill, but it was not to the office that she headed. Unlike Victoria, Julia had no interest at all in the books or business side of the process. She was interested in the manufacturing itself, or more specifically the machinery that enabled it to happen. Julia was obsessed with how their cloth was made, exactly how the huge machines operated, what each could do, and how to repair them if they broke down. She soon latched on to Seth Ackroyd as the fount of all knowledge in her chosen sphere and would fire questions at him nonstop. The chief engineer was at first startled, but soon became accustomed to his employer’s small ward pursuing him around the premises, peering over his shoulder at whatever he was doing. Before long a small set of overalls was procured for Julia, and she became a sort of unofficial apprentice.
Several weeks passed in this manner, then Victoria asked Seth to call in to see her.
“Is Julia bothering you? I know she is with you a great deal of late.”
Seth declined the seat she offered him. “No, miss, not bothering me exactly. She’s a right bright little thing, in fact. Asks a lot of questions.”
“I know that. She is very interested in the machines.”
“Aye. Under a loom is no place for a girl though, is it?”
“You think not? I was a girl once.”
“I meant no offence, miss. It’s just…”
“I know—I did not exhibit any serious desire to crawl around on the floor or squirt oil over ball bearings. At least, not that I recall.”
The chief engineer’s face split in a grin. “No, miss, you did not. I would have remembered that.”
She gave a wry smile. “Julia is an unorthodox child. I struggle to imagine her ever gracing an elegant drawing room or perfecting a pretty waltz and it seems cruel to insist she restricts her activities to those things she hates.” Victoria paused, recalling her own education, which had seemed to dwell so heavily on the frivolous and trivial. She did not want that for Julia. “She is happy spending her time with you, and if you have no strong objection I would like her to continue to do that. If she is to learn engineering, let her learn it from the best.”
“You want me to train her to be an engineer?” Seth’s jaw dropped, his face betraying his surprise.
“Why not? I have no notion what she will do when she grows up, pretty much whatever she likes I imagine, despite any efforts I might make to channel her into more feminine pursuits. If it is machines she wants, well, we have plenty. Please make sure she is safe among them though. And I would not wish her to be in the mill when she should be at school.”
Seth flattened his lips, considering the matter. At last he gave a curt nod. “Aye, well, I expect the lass will make a better engineer than a seamstress. Will you tell her, miss?”
“No, Seth. You can, if you would.”
He turned to leave. Victoria called to him as he exited her door. “Oh, and Seth, I will speak to Peggy to make sure your additional duties are reflected in your wages.”
He looked back at her over his shoulder. “That’ll not be necessary, miss. Put it in the school fund.”
They experienced another bout of defiance from Julia when baby Harry was born. She refused to so much as look at the tiny infant and did not speak to Victoria for weeks.
“She is jealous. And scared.” Hester always seemed to know what was happening in the girl’s mixed-up little head.
“Why would she be jealous? She knew from the day we met that I was expecting a baby. She spends all her time with you, or Violet or Seth in any case.”
“Ah, but you are her guardian, my dear. You are the one who really matters to her. You could send her away.”
“As if I would ever do such a thing! Surely she knows that. She belongs here now, with us.” Victoria was incredulous.
“All she knows is she no sooner gets settled somewhere, than something happens, something she has no control over, and she is moved on. We must give her time, and reassure her. After all
, Harry is her brother. He is her only blood relative and in years to come she will need him, I expect.”
“I cannot tell her though, can I? That Harry and she have the same father.”
“Not yet. But some day I expect she will be glad to know. He will too, because above all else family is important. For now, we must simply show her that we love her and want her here.”
Victoria wished Julia would warm to her brother, even just a little, but opted not to press the point. Eventually Julia would settle again; she always did.
Naturally, Hester was proved right. By the time Harry was six months old Julia was back to her usual awkward, confrontational self again. Victoria noted the transition with relief. Nothing more was said.
Harry was the opposite of Julia in temperament. The baby was sweet and happy, a perfect little boy. He gurgled with pleasure at the sight of his mother, rarely disturbed her in the night, ate like a horse, and was growing so fast she could hardly keep up with him. He had just started to walk, after a fashion, so the entire household was run ragged keeping him safe.
Harry loved people. He would have such a good time at the party and of course everyone would fuss over him. Victoria resolved to make sure that Julia was not ignored. This was her day, after all.
“Mama, I am going to meet Uncle Horace!”
Julia’s shrill little voice broke into her thoughts. Victoria peered up the lane to see Julia emerging from the house at a trot.
“Wait! What about your bath?”
The girl had the grace to stop and wave to her. “I’ll not be long. The carriage will be coming along the road in a few minutes. He sent a telegram.”
“But…” It was no good. Julia was already sprinting along their narrow lane, her small clogs clattering over the gravel. Still clad in her grubby work clothes, she was hardly suitably dressed to greet their guests, but Victoria knew Julia didn’t care, and neither would Horace probably.
