The Honeyfield Bequest

by Anna Jacobs

  Auntie Rhoda looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t you want any more children?’

  ‘Yes, but not yet. And never at the rate of one a year, like my sisters.’

  Auntie Rhoda bent her head over her embroidery, brow wrinkled in thought, and Kathleen waited, trying not even to breathe loudly.

  ‘Very well, dear, I’ll tell you all I know. I work with some other ladies who believe in helping our poorer sisters, you see. We meet every month to make plans or we get in touch with one another directly if we see a need to help someone.’

  ‘That’s where you go on the last Thursday of the month.’

  ‘Yes.’ After another silence, she said, ‘The work is supported by the Greyladies Trust. There is money available from it to help poorer women.’

  ‘I’ve heard the name Greyladies, but I can’t remember where exactly.’1

  ‘It’s a very old house south of here. It’s been passed down the female line of the Latimer family since the Dissolution of the Monasteries, which Henry VIII began in 1536, if you remember your history.’

  Kathleen didn’t remember ever learning about that, but nodded.

  ‘The house is called Greyladies because it was a former abbey and the nuns wore grey habits. It’s situated in the village of Challerton. The owners have been helping women in need for centuries.’

  ‘How wonderful!’

  ‘I think it is. I feel honoured to have been chosen to help.’

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘I was helping someone when I met Mrs Latimer. I’ll tell you about it another time. Weren’t you wanting to find out about preventing too many babies?’

  ‘Yes. Do go on.’

  Auntie Rhoda explained carefully the various methods and promised to provide Kathleen and Ernest with the necessary equipment for the rare occasions when he wanted his wife.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘If you ever get a chance to share the knowledge with other women and help them in their turn, then please do that.’

  Kathleen looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never really been in a position to help other people. It’s always been such a struggle to get what I needed for myself.’

  ‘Not so much of a struggle nowadays.’

  ‘No. Only … I might have good food and shelter, but I’m still living a very restricted life.’

  ‘Your time to do more will come, dear. I’m quite sure of that.’

  ‘How? I have three children now, to all intents and purposes.’

  She didn’t have to explain that. Auntie Rhoda nodded and her expression was sad. ‘Ernest is a kind boy, though, when he can be.’

  ‘Yes. I know. And I’m fond of him.’ But oh, she’d wanted so much more from a husband. And from life.

  Chapter Nine

  In November 1905, Ernest failed to arrive on the Friday evening, which was not like him. In fact he hadn’t missed a weekend since his daughter’s birth.

  Kathleen grew increasingly anxious as the hours passed and by ten o’clock that night she was sure something must be seriously wrong to have kept him away.

  If he doesn’t arrive in the morning, she thought as she got ready for bed, I’m going to visit Mr Seaton and find out what’s going on.

  She was woken at daybreak by the sound of someone hammering on the front door and went rushing downstairs, wriggling into her dressing gown. She flung open the door to see a young man she didn’t recognise holding out a letter while with the other hand he steadied a bicycle.

  It was cold and light rain was falling. His black waterproof cape was dripping with moisture and he was huddling under the eaves for shelter.

  ‘Message from Mr Seaton, ma’am. He says it’s important and I’m to wait for a reply.’

  Rhoda came hurrying along from her cottage two doors away, as neatly dressed as ever but with her long grey hair simply tied back, instead of rolled into a bun. She had her grey winter shawl round her shoulders and seemed oblivious to the rain as she closed her umbrella.

  Kathleen stood back to let her into the house.

  ‘I saw young Jimmy arrive from my bedroom and I knew he worked for Mr Seaton. Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m about to find out. Jimmy has brought me a letter from Mr Seaton but I haven’t opened it yet.’

  The two women looked at one another, both knowing that something must be very wrong for him to send a messenger openly like this.

  Kathleen took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘Lean your bicycle against the wall, Jimmy, and come inside. You can wait in the hall while I read it. No need to stand out in the rain. It’s a cold day.’

  He wiped his feet carefully and came in. ‘Thank you, ma’am. Um … I was to say that Mr Seaton wants me to get back with your answer as quickly as possible.’

  ‘I’ll go and read it at once.’

  She didn’t want to read it in front of the messenger, so beckoned to Rhoda and led the way into the parlour. As soon as she’d shut the door, she tore open the envelope and went to read it near the window where the light was better.

  Kathleen,

  I’m sorry to tell you that Ernest died suddenly yesterday afternoon. The doctor says it was his heart. He just keeled over as we were talking and was gone.

  She gasped and stopped reading for a moment.

  ‘What is it?’ Rhoda asked.

  ‘Ernest is dead.’

  ‘But … he can’t be! He’s only a young man and he hasn’t been ill. Why, he was here only recently and we were all laughing together.’

  Rhoda fell silent, then asked more quietly, ‘What happened, dear?’ She put an arm round Kathleen and they read the rest of the letter together.

  This makes no difference to your position in the family, but it will still be safer for you and your children, and I really do mean safer, for you to stay out of sight of my wife and my nephew.

  He’s now my closest blood relative, apart from my son Alex, who still refuses to return to the business. Godfrey has taunted me for years that Ernest will never be able to father children, unlike his own sons. He wouldn’t let you and your children stand in his way for long if he knew about your marriage.

  I intend to write a will which specifically cuts him out, but if I had no heirs Godfrey might be able to claim my money after I die, because Alex isn’t married, so isn’t likely to produce any heirs.

  I beg you to please stay out of sight. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I want those two children of yours to be given every chance to grow up happily, so please do as I ask and stay out of sight for a few more years till the children have grown more mature in their understanding of the world – and its villains. Young Christopher can join me in the business one day.

  I’ll come to see them when I can and will continue to keep an eye on you all.

  Do not attend the funeral. If you even try, I’ll have you taken away from the church forcibly.

  Yours in haste,

  Jedediah Seaton

  Kathleen clapped one hand to her mouth in an attempt to hold back her tears. ‘I can’t believe Ernest is dead.’ But Rhoda was sobbing so uncontrollably, she had to look after her companion before she could even think about writing a reply.

  It didn’t take long to scrawl a response.

  Thank you for letting me know that my husband is dead.

  I won’t be kept away from the funeral, but to respect your wishes and fears about your nephew, I shall be heavily veiled and will stay at the rear with Rhoda. It will seem as if I’m there to support her.

  Kathleen Seaton

  She sealed the envelope carefully and took the time to light a candle and put a couple of dabs of sealing wax across the flap. She didn’t need Mr Seaton to tell her that no one else must see her letter at this point.

  But it wouldn’t be right to stay away from her husband’s funeral. It just … wouldn’t.

  She stood at the door watching the young messenger pedal away into the grey, rainy day, then went back inside and turned the damper up on the kitchen fire. Thank g
oodness the children weren’t awake yet.

  She waited for the fire to burn up again, not weeping but feeling cold and heavy with grief for a life cut short. Poor Ernest. He had been such a kind man.

  Rhoda mopped her eyes and looked at her sadly. ‘I should have been comforting you. Only you haven’t been weeping. I know you didn’t love him, but—’

  ‘I’m still too shocked,’ she said hastily. ‘It doesn’t seem possible.’

  Rhoda’s voice was bitter. ‘I’m old enough to know that death can surprise you at any time. What did you say in your reply?’

  ‘I said I was definitely going to the funeral but would respect Mr Seaton’s wishes by wearing a heavy veil and staying at the rear with you.’

  ‘I agree you ought to be there, but should you disobey Mr Seaton? After all, he’s trying to protect you.’

  ‘In this matter, I can’t obey him. Ernest is – was my husband, the father of my children. I owe him that last respect.’ She waited a few moments then added, ‘Is this nephew of Mr Seaton really that bad?’

  ‘Yes. Godfrey Seaton seems made of stone. He has the most chilling grey eyes I’ve ever seen. In fact, he doesn’t usually show any emotion, but occasionally he can fly into a fearsome rage. It doesn’t happen often but people are terrified when it does. It’s a wonder he hasn’t killed someone when he’s been like that. I know he maimed one man, and his wife’s family had to pay the poor fellow off.’

  ‘Oh dear. I was hoping Mr Seaton was exaggerating the danger.’

  ‘No. I’m afraid not. He’s right to warn you. I’d never have taken a job in his nephew’s house, however much he paid me. I’d rather go into the poorhouse.’

  This response from her usually calm friend gave Kathleen something else to worry about besides how she’d live without Ernest’s wages.

  Most of all, she’d miss the simple protection of being his wife. Just by existing, he’d protected her and the children.

  Who would help her to protect them now?

  She couldn’t run away or she’d be denying her children their birthright, but oh, she wanted to.

  Later that day another letter was brought by the same tired, wet messenger.

  You may attend the funeral, Kathleen, as long as you make it seem that you’re there as Rhoda’s companion. People know how much she loved Ernest so won’t wonder at her presence.

  The funeral is on Thursday at ten o’clock in the morning, at All Saints Church. Neither you nor Rhoda are invited back to the house afterwards, mind.

  When all the fuss has died down, I’ll visit you to discuss new arrangements for the support of yourself and the children.

  J. S.

  Without a word, Kathleen passed the note to Rhoda, who read it, wiped away more tears and said, ‘Thank goodness he’s come round about the funeral. It’s better that you don’t upset him because you’ll be dependent on his help from now on.’

  ‘I suppose so. What shall we do about the children on Thursday? My father may be attending the funeral and I don’t want him to see them. I’m hoping he won’t even recognise me if I wear a thick veil.’

  Rhoda thought hard for a few moments, then nodded as she got an idea. ‘We can ask my friend Felicity Dalton to keep an eye on them. I’m sure she’ll be happy to do that. She loves children and she’s played with yours a few times at my house. She can come round here and—’

  ‘I’d prefer us to take them round to her house, and to do it as secretly as possible.’ Kathleen saw Rhoda’s surprise and added, ‘I’m not only afraid of the nephew but of Mr Seaton too. He might try to take his grandchildren away from me while I’m at the funeral.’

  ‘I doubt Mr Seaton would do that. His wife didn’t even look after her own children, so she’d definitely not look after yours, particularly if they’re cutting Godfrey out.’

  ‘Well, to be double sure they’re safe, do you think Mrs Dalton would take them the night before so that no one sees where they go?’

  ‘Are you that worried?’

  ‘Yes. I love them too much to risk losing them.’

  Mrs Dalton was clearly surprised at their request but looked at the young widow pityingly and said she was happy to help in any way. She would love to take the children for the night so that Rhoda and Kathleen could get an early start.

  On the afternoon before the funeral, Kathleen waited until it was dark, glad that the early dusk of winter would hide what they were doing. Then she carried Elizabeth and made a game of creeping out through the back garden without any noise to keep little Christopher quiet.

  They made their way along the back lane to Mrs Dalton’s house without meeting anyone, thank goodness.

  ‘They’ll be all right with me, dear,’ Mrs Dalton assured her yet again.

  ‘I know they will. I’m very grateful.’

  ‘They’re too small to understand what’s happening anyway. Are you all right? It’s hard to lose a husband so young.’

  Kathleen shrugged and was glad when Mrs Dalton didn’t seem to expect a proper answer. She had felt weary and unhappy since she heard the news, but that was natural when your husband died. What wasn’t natural was that she hadn’t been able to weep for Ernest, not a single tear.

  The cottage seemed strangely quiet without the children, but even so, Kathleen refused Rhoda’s offer of a bed for the night, wanting to think things through on her own.

  As she lay in bed, comforted by the warmth of an earthenware hot-water bottle at her feet, she remembered how Ernest had always refused to walk long distances, saying it tired him too much. Even when he was helping her to run away, he’d asked her to wait in the hut until he could arrange transport to Monks Barton.

  And his face had always been pale, his lips too. Could that have been because of a problem with his heart? Had he always had a weakness?

  Oh, who knew what went on inside people’s bodies? Human life was uncertain at the best of times. She might enjoy good health, but look how her life had twisted and changed so abruptly.

  Poor Ernest!

  Poor fatherless children, too. He had loved them so much.

  At the thought of him cuddling their children, smiling tenderly, the tears came at last, a river of regrets and sadness.

  The following morning was showery so it was a good thing Rhoda had hired a carriage to take them to the church. It was a small, shabby vehicle and the horse looked weary even before they started. However the patient creature clopped along steadily enough and they were the first to arrive at the church.

  Rhoda gave the driver some money for refreshments and arranged to meet him afterwards at the local inn just down the road. Then she took a deep breath and led the way into the church, holding Kathleen’s arm and having to pretend that she needed the younger woman’s support.

  Two men in black were waiting at the church door to act as ushers. The older one nodded to Rhoda and stepped forward. ‘Good morning, Mrs Newman. Mr Seaton said you’d be coming. I’ll show you to your place.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Balham. This is my niece, Jeanie, here to lend me support.’ To explain Kathleen’s heavy veil, she added, ‘We’ve had another death in the family recently, so it’s a sad time for us both.’

  He gave Kathleen a cursory nod but didn’t really look at her as he showed them to a pew near the rear. ‘Mr Seaton says you’re not to go up to the coffin. It’s already sealed anyway. There’s not been a viewing.’

  Rhoda sighed. ‘I’d have liked to have seen my dear Ernest’s face again.’

  ‘Mr Seaton didn’t want everyone gawping at his son.’ He waited for that bald statement to sink in before continuing. ‘After the service is over he says you can attend the consignment of the coffin to the grave, but … um, he wanted me to remind you to stand at the rear and also that you’re not invited back to the house afterwards.’ The usher seemed embarrassed as he relayed these instructions.

  ‘Of course not,’ Rhoda said calmly. ‘As the former housekeeper, I didn’t expect to be invited. But I was very fond o
f Ernest and very much wanted to attend the boy’s funeral, which Mr Seaton has kindly allowed.’

  ‘Of course.’ The usher inclined his head and went back to stand at the entrance, leaving them alone in the echoing emptiness of the church.

  Kathleen shivered and bent her head in a prayer for Ernest’s immortal soul.

  Shortly afterwards, mourners began to come in and the two ushers showed them to their pews, speaking in hushed voices.

  An organist began to play quietly.

  At one point, Rhoda nudged Kathleen and said, ‘That’s Alex. I’m glad he’s been allowed to come.’

  Ernest’s brother looked nothing like him. He was a slender gentleman of middle height, with an intelligent look on his face and a full head of hair.

  ‘Look at that!’ Rhoda whispered indignantly a moment later. ‘They’ve not seated Alex in the family pew. What a shame! This is a golden opportunity for a reconciliation, but Mr Seaton is known for holding grudges. And if Alex won’t go back to work in the family business, his father won’t reconcile.’

  ‘Can’t Mrs Seaton persuade him to forgive and forget?’

  ‘I doubt it. She never goes against her husband.’

  That sounded like Kathleen’s mother, too. So many women acted subserviently towards their husbands. But Kathleen didn’t comment on that and kept the heavy veil over her face and the brim of her simple black straw hat tilted forward to further conceal her features.

  Peering through the dark mesh of the veil made everything around her seem unreal and distant. Well, things had felt strange since she had heard the sad news. When three-year-old Christopher had asked for his father yesterday, she had put off trying to explain death to such a small child. And Elizabeth was only two. She wouldn’t even remember her father.

  How would Kathleen make them understand that they’d never see their father again? Death was so final, beyond a small child’s comprehension.

  There were rustlings and murmurs as people turned to watch the family enter the church and walk slowly down the aisle towards the coffin at the front.