by Anna Jacobs
Only as they were putting their sewing away ready for a quiet hour with a book did Auntie Rhoda say suddenly, ‘I wonder what Mr Seaton will say when he finds out. I should warn you that he won’t be best pleased.’
‘Ernest said that. What is his father like?’
‘A bossy, grumpy man. He was a hard master, but I did my work well and didn’t have much trouble with him. Then I inherited this cottage and a nice little nest egg from a spinster cousin, so I was able to leave his employ and make a happier life for myself. I wish Ernest could do the same. That boy will never make a good businessman, not if he tries for a hundred years, he won’t. Though he’s good with horses and other animals.’
A few moments later she sighed and added, ‘I think we’ll be able to keep your wedding secret for a while, but eventually Mr Seaton will find out. Little escapes him and poor Ernest is bound to give something away. Then we’ll have to tread very carefully, because believe me, there will be a big fuss made.’
After some more thought, she added, ‘It would be best if you could be expecting a child by then. Being disappointed in his sons, Mr Seaton is looking for grandchildren, but so far Ernest has managed to annoy the young women his father thought suitable. Fortunately he’s so shy in company, he hardly says a word, so they don’t take to him if they can find someone else.’
She gave a sudden grin and for a moment Kathleen could see what she’d been like as a child when about to get into mischief.
‘I told Ernest what to say to upset the young ladies – when his father wasn’t in the room, of course. Well, we servants knew the families of Mr and Mrs Seaton’s friends, and they’d made enough money to spoil their daughters, turn them into lazy flibbertigibbets. None of those young ladies would have made him happy and they’d have scorned him, too.’
Which gave Kathleen even more to think about when she went to bed in the cosy little room under the eaves.
But she still came to the same conclusion: she’d had no other real choice if she wanted to get away from her father and Desmond Mannion. Heroines in books could do all sorts of daring things and it’d turn out well, but this was real life.
So she must just make the most of her marriage to Ernest.
The wedding day was the first Sunday in November and it dawned cool, with a morning mist over the fields. Kathleen felt nervous as she got ready, but Auntie Rhoda – how natural it seemed to address the old lady that way now – noticed and soon made her feel calmer.
The clothes helped, too. The new skirt and jacket had carried her through the Sundays and now gave her heart for the wedding. She was wearing a neat little felt hat that had been a bit battered when donated to the church box. But by the time Auntie Rhoda had steamed and reshaped it, and added new trimmings of silk flowers and a feather, it looked very smart.
Ernest was so late they began to worry, and he barely got to the village in time for church. When he came into view, they both sighed in relief. They watched him leave the horse and trap at the inn and come rushing across the green and along the short street to the cottage.
‘My father wanted me to attend church with him today,’ he said breathlessly. ‘He keeps asking me why I’m spending so much time here.’
‘Oh dear, that means he’s starting to get suspicious. He hates to let you out of his control. We’ll talk about it later and decide what to do. In the meantime, let’s go and worship our Maker, then get you two married. We’ll walk to church in style, one on each of your arms, Ernest dear.’
To Kathleen’s surprise a few people lingered after the service to watch the wedding, as well as one of Auntie Rhoda’s friends, who had agreed to stand with her as the second witness.
The marriage ceremony went smoothly, except for Ernest stammering as he made his responses and having to be prompted. Then suddenly the curate was saying, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr Seaton.’
Which Ernest did with new confidence.
But Kathleen didn’t enjoy his mouth on hers any more than she had on the few occasions he’d kissed her goodbye.
What would tonight bring? She’d been dreading it all week, remembering the grunting and groaning, and the banging bedhead at her parents’ home.
Auntie Rhoda had provided a wedding cake and a glass of her primrose wine for each of the neighbours invited to her cottage afterwards to drink to the health of the bride and groom. But she didn’t encourage them to linger and sent Ernest and Kathleen out for a nice brisk walk once the guests had gone.
‘Don’t waste the sunshine. We won’t get many more fine days like this.’
Ernest didn’t say much but he smiled a lot and held Kathleen’s hand as they walked. He seemed to know the area well and took her to see some of the local landmarks, including a view of a hillside with a big white horse carved into it.
Anything to do with horses pleased him, so she got him talking about them. He seemed to enjoy himself and she knew enough from what her father talked about to ask the right questions and keep the conversation going.
It was a relief to get back to Auntie Rhoda’s house again. She didn’t mind talking about horses but there were other things in life.
Then, as they cleared their tea things away, Auntie Rhoda said abruptly, ‘I’m staying with my friend Jeanie tonight. Did you tell your father you were staying with me, Ernest, as I suggested?’
‘Yes, but he said he wanted me back under his roof by nine o’clock sharp.’
‘Oh, dear. What did you say to that?’
‘I said I’d try to get back. But I told the innkeeper to look after the horse and cart tonight as you said I should. I could go back quite late, though.’
She stood thinking, then shook her head. ‘No. You must stay with your wife tonight and you must love her as a husband should. Remember what I told you. It’s very important indeed, Ernest.’
‘Father will be angry if I stay.’
‘He’s often angry. But you don’t want to give him a chance to say you’re not properly married, do you? He might try to take Kathleen from you.’
He grabbed her hand. ‘I won’t let him.’
But his bride could feel his hand trembling in hers.
When Auntie Rhoda had left, Kathleen decided to get the consummation of their marriage over and done with. ‘Let’s go to bed early, Ernest. You haven’t seen my bedroom. It’s very cosy and you’ll like sleeping there, I’m sure.’
When he’d admired the room, she suggested they get undressed with their backs to one another, for modesty, and he nodded.
‘I haven’t done it before,’ he blurted out as they stared at one another across the bed, clad now in a nightshirt and flannel nightdress respectively. ‘Alex is younger than me and he’s done it, but I haven’t.’
After a pause, he added, ‘I used to pretend I had because my father always said I’d never manage to pleasure a woman. So I listened to what the other men said about women and said the same sort of thing.’
‘Good heavens!’ This was the last thing she’d expected to hear. ‘And did he believe you?’
‘Yes. Because I went drinking as well and I get drunk very easily so he saw me when I staggered home. It seemed to please him that I was “behaving like a man at last”. It made life easier.’
‘Oh. I see.’
Ernest was looking ready to panic, and she realised she’d have to take charge of what they were doing. That made her feel more like a mother than a wife, but at least she wasn’t afraid of him hurting her. She doubted anyone could be afraid of such a timid man.
‘It doesn’t matter to me what you pretended to your father, but please promise me you won’t lie to me.’
He nodded several times. ‘I promise. Yes, I do.’
‘Now, I haven’t done it before either, Ernest dear, so we’ll have to find our way together. If we do it carefully and don’t hurt one another, I’m sure things will be all right.’ She blew out the candle, took a deep breath and got into the bed.
‘I thin
k I know what to do,’ he said into the darkness. ‘One of the drivers told me all sorts of things – and I’ve watched animals do it. They seem to like it a lot.’
Dear heaven! she thought. What had she got herself into? Thank goodness Auntie Rhoda had explained to her in detail exactly what had to happen.
It took a lot of coaxing and gentle persuasion to get Ernest to the point of the marriage act, so she was surprised that he’d convinced his father he was playing the man. But in the end they managed to consummate their marriage. And if she didn’t enjoy it particularly, at least it didn’t hurt, and he seemed to enjoy their brief encounter.
It felt very strange, though, to have someone invade her body, and equally strange to lie next to Ernest afterwards.
He fell asleep almost at once but she lay staring at the last flickers of the little fire Auntie Rhoda had lit in the bedroom. It took her a while to realise that tears were trickling down her cheeks. She might be Ernest’s wife now, in every way, but this wasn’t what any normal young woman expected from her marriage.
She tried to console herself with the thought that this husband wouldn’t try to boss her around, but she’d have liked to spend her life with someone she could talk to properly, someone who wasn’t afraid of so many things. Poor Ernest was more like a child who responded to any small word of encouragement or kindness. It was as if he was starved of praise.
She prayed her father wouldn’t find out where she was or what she’d done for a very long time. Let them settle down together first.
But what would Ernest’s father do when he found out? Auntie Rhoda seemed very sure he would find out quite quickly. Would he come after them and separate them by force? Could he do that?
Would it really make a big difference to Mr Seaton if she was expecting a child? Women in her family seemed to get pregnant quite easily. She probably would too.
Well, if she did have a child, it would be loved and properly fed and educated. She wasn’t going to bring one up in fear and ignorance, as her mother had done with them. If Kathleen hadn’t had teachers who took an interest in her and praised her intelligence, she didn’t know what would have become of her.
Ernest had promised not to give her a lot of children but, oh dear, they needed to make this first one as quickly as possible.
It was decided that Ernest would come to visit his wife in Monks Barton every Friday or Saturday from now on, taking a pony and trap from his father’s stables and staying overnight at the cottage. He already had an arrangement with the local pub for them to look after the pony and trap when he came to visit Rhoda, so the practicalities worked out very nicely.
Rhoda spread the word among her friends in the village that Mr Ernest didn’t want it known to his family that he was married because his father wouldn’t approve, so people kept quiet about it. They were kind people, she assured Kathleen, who could mind their own business and keep a secret better than most.
Every Sunday after Ernest left she said, ‘Well, there’s another week gone without Mr Seaton trying to interfere.’
And every Sunday Kathleen felt nothing but relief that her tedious ordeal in bed was over.
She loved living with Auntie Rhoda and helping her in the house, though. The two of them got on so well together, almost as if they were mother and daughter. Kathleen was learning to do housework properly and after her own mother’s slapdash ways, it was a revelation to her how other people lived. Everything in the cottage was clean, not just the house but the people and all their clothes. She loved the way the parlour smelt of potpourri and furniture polish.
The first weekend Ernest gave her the two pounds that his father paid him as wages.
‘I can’t take all your money,’ she protested.
He thought about this. ‘I shall need some for buying a pot of tea sometimes when I’m out and about, but you can keep the rest. I want you to live comfortably.’
‘We’ll ask Auntie Rhoda how much would be right, shall we?’
‘Yes. She’ll know.’
In the end, they arranged for him to keep ten shillings for his own spending money and as Auntie Rhoda would accept only ten shillings a week for their food, Kathleen was able to save the rest and add it to what she’d already got in her savings account. What a marvel it seemed to have money mounting up so quickly!
After much consideration, she bought some navy blue woollen material from the shop in the next village, which was much bigger than Monks Barton, to make a new winter outfit. Auntie Rhoda came with her and wouldn’t let her buy the cheapest material, insisting that good quality paid for itself in the long run because it lasted.
Kathleen made it up into a skirt under her kind hostess’s guidance, learning to cut out and tack the pieces together, then, when the skirt fitted properly, use Rhoda’s little sewing machine. She treadled away on it happily, feeling as if she had unlimited energy.
The jacket was of a simple design but was much more difficult. In the end she got it right, though, with the older woman’s help. She was determined to learn to sew.
Apart from buying clothes, of which she was desperately short, she refused to waste even a penny and her frugality pleased her kind hostess, she could see.
Auntie Rhoda made her a present of a new blouse, ordered ready-made from the shop. It had a lace collar and cuffs. ‘A young wife should look her best for her husband. You can keep this for best and I’ll teach you to wash it very carefully so as not to damage the lace.’
‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’ Kathleen dared to hug Auntie Rhoda.
‘You deserve a few pretty things,’ the older woman said. ‘You’re only young once.’
Kathleen sneaked into her bedroom to stroke the soft creamy lace several times that first day. She’d never owned anything with lace on it before.
When Ernest made his second visit after their marriage, he seemed relieved to hand over most of his wages to her ‘Could I bring the rest next time as well?’
‘The rest? What do you mean?’
‘I’ve got some other money in my room at home. It gets heavy if you leave it in your pockets and if my father knew I had some left, he’d say he was paying me too much.’
Ernest turned up next time with several old envelopes in his little suitcase, some containing coins, some banknotes.
Kathleen stared at them in shock, then saw him looking at her apprehensively, so quickly praised him for being careful with his money.
She emptied everything on the table and made a game of counting it, but when she asked him to check it, she was shocked at how poor he was at working out the total amount.
‘I don’t like doing sums,’ he confessed, seeing her surprise. ‘My father gets angry with me but when I look at them, the numbers jiggle about in front of my eyes and I get confused.’
‘It sounds as if you need spectacles.’
‘My teacher said that once but Father got angry with her, said no son of his was walking around looking like a damned owl.’
Ernest looked so anxious, she let the matter drop and went back to counting. The more she heard about his father, the less she liked the sound of him. They both had uncaring fathers, it seemed.
When she’d finished counting, she stared down at the piles of crumpled notes and coins in astonishment. They came to over a hundred pounds. Heart pounding, she counted them all over again, to be sure. She’d never had so much money in her whole life and felt rich.
‘That’s wonderful, Ernest! How clever of you to save all that money.’ She tried to give him a quick hug but he clung to her tightly for a minute or two, so she stroked his hair gently and he made happy little murmuring noises. He didn’t often attempt to touch her in what she thought of as that other way and left her to initiate the bed play. Mostly he just wanted to cuddle.
‘What shall I do with all this money?’ she asked Auntie Rhoda after he’d left.
‘Put it in your savings account. They’ll pay you interest on it, so it’ll grow bigger.’
‘S
houldn’t this money be in an account in Ernest’s name?’
‘It’d be better to keep it in your own account, dear. He won’t care and that way his father won’t be able to take it off him. Visiting the post office in the next village makes a pleasant walk on a fine day, even in winter, and you can put your own spare money into your account every week as well.’
Kathleen had never expected to be able to save money. It made her feel far more secure.
Chapter Six
The two women celebrated Christmas Day quietly because Ernest’s father had insisted so strongly on him spending the day with his family that he hadn’t dared refuse.
Kathleen had bought a book for Auntie Rhoda, one which she’d mentioned wanting to read: Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad. The pedlar who came regularly to the village had got it for her in Swindon because she was still afraid to go there.
They laughed when they found that Auntie Rhoda had bought her a book too, Love and Mr Lewisham by H. G. Wells, because Kathleen had been fascinated by that author’s The War of the Worlds when she’d borrowed it from the bookcase in the parlour.
Until then it hadn’t even occurred to Kathleen that there might be other worlds, and that led to a discussion about their own world, its sun and moon, and other planets. ‘I have so much to learn. I hate being ignorant.’
‘You’re a quick learner, dear. Think of all the lovely books you’ll need to read to learn things.’
Kathleen could only sigh happily at that bright shining thought.
Then it was 1902. The year dawned with a light dusting of snow and a chilly wind. Kathleen had found a warm coat in the church box and had had a pair of boots made by the shoemaker in the next village, so she was cosily dressed. It was the first time she’d had brand-new boots made in her whole life and she couldn’t believe how well they fitted, how comfortable they were to walk in.
She had never been so happy, she thought, never! Oh, no! She clapped her hand to her mouth. It was tempting providence to be so smug. She put a penny in the church poor box to make up for that lapse and went home to read one of the newspapers which Auntie Rhoda bought occasionally, devouring every page to find out what was happening in the wider world.
