House of Angels

by Freda Lightfoot

  Ella thought it unlikely she ever could relax, but after a while she did begin to get the hang of it, and became quite absorbed by the task, however flawed her work was in comparison to the older woman’s. Surprisingly, it was Amos who called an end to the lesson.

  ‘That’s enough for one evening. Tha’s made good progress. You can try again another night. We all need our sleep now.’

  And he was right. She was indeed tired, yet Ella went to her bed with reluctance, and with a heavy heart. Every night it seemed lonelier than ever. If only she had a proper marriage, with a man who loved her. She listened to her husband’s heavy footsteps climbing up to the attic above and wished, as she did more and more these days, that Amos cared for her just a little.

  There had been a time when she’d feared him as she had her own father, when she hadn’t wanted him in her bed. She’d so resented being forcibly married off she hadn’t properly given their marriage a chance. Ella saw that now, and regretted it. Of course Amos too had made mistakes, with his lack of trust and refusal to take her into Kendal, his assumption that she was no virgin and would play him false, not to mention the unrelenting work routine, which had come as a great shock to her system.

  But ever since she’d instigated their lovemaking when he’d been half asleep, Ella had never been able to erase the wonder of that moment from her mind. She wanted him, now more than ever. And since Tilda’s illness he’d shown her great kindness and respect, and Ella knew in her heart that she loved him. If only he could love her. Would they ever be man and wife in truth, as well as in name? If only she could learn to spin some happiness for the pair of them.

  Mercy was delighted to be home but filled with a bitter resentment over Livia’s presence. What on earth was she doing here when she’d had the kind of privileged upbringing that Mercy could only dream of, stealing all the love from their father that had been denied her simply because she was illegitimate? Not for a moment did Mercy trust that I-am-your-best-friend attitude which the other girl seemed to have adopted. And just because she didn’t have a patronising, nose-in-the-air attitude, didn’t mean she wasn’t far too full of herself. Didn’t the quality always think themselves better than everyone else?

  Now unemployed, Mercy felt she was right back where she’d started, in dire need of a job and a decent future. There wasn’t even much in the way of weaving and knitting. Life was really quite depressing.

  And so she took out her resentment on Livia.

  Mercy enjoyed queening it over this more fortunate sister of hers, and since she knew the neighbourhood so much better than Livia, she’d pretend to show her the secret parts of Fellside. ‘It’s not wise to take short cuts on your own. You can quickly lose your bearings,’ she warned.

  ‘So Jack informs me.’

  Mercy despised that calm, unruffled manner of hers, that hoity-toity, I-know-it-all attitude.

  Sometimes, as she went about visiting old friends, Mercy would deliberately lead her into unsafe places through a maze of dark alleys and ginnels. Then she’d hide in a doorway, watching as Livia began to panic on finding herself alone, grow confused and get thoroughly lost trying to find her own way back. Or she’d take her into shady corners where groups of youths would throw muck and stones at them, or hover threateningly close so that Livia would grow nervous. Mercy would frighten her with tales of what they intended to do to them, then urge her to turn tail and run, while she would remain with the lads, laughing her head off.

  Irritatingly, Livia soon grew wise to these tricks, and began to be amused rather than put off by them. And she remained obstinately kind.

  Mercy was also jealous of Livia’s obvious friendship with Jack. What Jack saw in her, Mercy couldn’t comprehend. They weren’t suited at all, didn’t even come from the same world. Why couldn’t he see that she was only amusing herself with him? Mercy said as much to him one day.

  ‘She’ll drop you the moment she gets a better offer.’

  Jack had looked at her, smiled, and said only, ‘Maybe she won’t get a better offer than me. I’m pretty damn good, you know.’

  Mercy had her lovely George now, of course, but she still thought of Jack as her own very special friend, and resented Livia taking him from her. She wanted him to hate the Angel family every bit as much as she did.

  George too was having difficulty finding employment since he’d only ever been a farm labourer, his true calling, she supposed, and he loved the work. But there wasn’t much call for tending sheep here in Kendal itself. Between them they didn’t have a penny to their name, having used up the last of their savings while on the road, driven back to town by Mercy’s homesickness. It certainly wasn’t going to be as easy to earn a living here as she’d first hoped. And without a job there was precious little chance of them ever being able to set up home together. In the meantime they had to be content with sharing a straw pallet on Jessie’s hard floor.

  Mercy found this particularly hard to accept when she considered that this posh, so-called half-sister of hers must be loaded with brass, yet quite clearly kept it all to herself.

  * * *

  ‘I think it’s time we talked, don’t you?’ Livia said to Mercy one day. ‘There are things you should know about us, your new family. I’m sure there must be lots of questions you want to ask. Finding out you even existed has been something of a surprise so far as I’m concerned, and it must be even more so for you. I didn’t realise I had another sister until Jack told me about you. We’ve all been looking for you ever since.’

  Mercy snorted her disbelief. ‘I can’t see why you’d care.’

  Livia raised questioning brows. ‘Why wouldn’t I? And why wouldn’t I be concerned that my father had started bullying you too?’

  A small silence while Mercy digested this remark, uncertain as to its true meaning. Was she saying that her father had been known to bully other girls at the store? Or did she mean that as well as abandoning Mercy and her mother, Josiah Angel had then started to bully her too?

  They were sitting on the steps that led up to Fountain Brow, a group of bare-bottomed children playing in the dirt nearby. A man with a handcart rumbled by, hawked and spat into the filthy gutter, and Mercy noticed how Livia quickly pulled her skirt away in case he spattered snot on it. The gesture almost made her laugh out loud. It proved how fancy and fastidious she was.

  ‘You don’t belong in these parts. Why don’t you go home to yer posh house, your rich friends and yer doting papa? What are you doing slumming it here wi’ us lot?’

  Livia sighed. ‘Let me tell you about my doting papa.’ And she did. In a few blunt sentences, well laced with bitterness, Livia described the years of abuse at her father’s hands. She told about Ella’s forced marriage, Maggie’s suicide, although she claimed the reason was that she’d been driven to the point of despair by their father’s bullying. The facts about the pregnancy were still very much her private secret, and would remain so until she’d found the courage, and the right moment, to confront her father on the subject. Livia went on to explain that this was the reason she’d finally walked out, and as she talked, Mercy’s mouth fell open.

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘That we’d led a spoilt, sheltered existence, pampered and cosseted by an adoring father?’ Livia’s sigh this time was heavy with sadness. ‘I wish that had been the case. I wish I could take you home to him now and say, “Father, here is a welcome addition to our family, a new daughter to treasure.” But he doesn’t even treasure his legitimate daughters, seeing us only as pawns to move about the chessboard of his life to his own advantage. He has damaged us all by his cruel treatment of us, by his resolve to exercise power over our lives, having first destroyed our mother. It is no surprise to me that he turned on you too, bullying you and having you beaten and locked away. It’s typical of him.’

  Mercy struggled to readjust her thoughts. ‘But why do you let him get away with it? Why don’t you stand up to him?’

  Livia shook her head in despair. ‘Wit
h what? As his daughters living at home we had no say over our own lives. He had all the power.’ She told Mercy then about the cage in the tower room, the shackles and the butcher’s hook, the strap he used on them regularly.

  The younger girl’s eyes widened in shock, hardly able to take in what she was hearing. This was the last thing she’d expected. By the sound of it she’d been the fortunate one, after all. At least Mercy had been loved and cared for by her darling ma, whereas Livia’s mother had died years ago, leaving those poor girls with a brute for a father.

  Who’d’ve thought it? The quality were even more of a mystery than she’d bargained for.

  Livia said, ‘He’ll be furious when he finds out you’re back in Kendal. I’m afraid that he’ll see you as a threat to his precious reputation. Stay well clear of Angel House, Mercy. Don’t ever allow him to lure you in there. I beg you never to trust him.’

  Mercy shook her head in disbelief. ‘What you say may well be true, but Josiah Angel as good as killed my ma by his neglect, and one day I mean to tell him so. I want to give that man a piece of my mind.’

  ‘Just forget him,’ Livia urged. ‘Seeking revenge will do you no good at all. I wish I had money to give you, a job to offer, but I don’t have a penny to my name. I swear I’ll find some way to help you and George, to help all my friends who live here on Fellside. Trust me, I’ll do everything I possibly can. In the meantime, I would so like us to be friends. To be real sisters. I’ve lost one already, I don’t want to lose another.’

  Livia put her arms around her, and Mercy allowed herself to be hugged. She went through the motions of making friends, even if deep down she struggled to believe this tale that Livia had spun.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Not only was Josiah making plans with Henry, but as extra insurance in his efforts to bring his daughter to heel, he sent round one of his rent collectors to issue an eviction notice.

  It stated that Josiah wanted the Flint family out by the end of the month, claiming they’d missed too many payments. Jack explained to Livia that this was untrue, that he’d argued with the rent collector on this point, even fetching out the rent book to prove that, difficult though it had been at times, they’d always met their obligations. But for some inexplicable reason the Flint family rent book did not match the entries in the ledger the rent collector carried, and their word alone was considered untrustworthy.

  ‘He’s accused us of altering the entries in the book, which is outrageous! And if we refuse to budge, then Mr Angel will evict every tenant in the entire building, and bulldoze the lot to the ground. Says he’s had enough.’

  Jack believed the man to be perfectly capable of doing such a despicable act. He was not to know that Josiah would not be able to carry out this threat any time soon, as he had financial troubles of his own. He simply couldn’t afford to hire the necessary machinery, let alone replace the building with anything else at present. The threat sounded real enough, and none of them had any reason to doubt his word.

  Livia was furious. She knew that her father would enjoy seeing her friends run like rats from a terrier. How dare he threaten them in this way! He still seemed to imagine that he could control other people’s lives exactly as he pleased. She was the one he wanted to punish, the one he was angry with, for refusing to obey his every whim and marry Henry as he’d decreed. Now he was taking revenge for that bit of rebellion on her part by destroying Jessie and her family.

  She was already trying not to be a nuisance by eating as little as possible of their precious food, and doing her bit with the knitting, but life was hard. If only they could find alternative accommodation, and a cheaper supply of raw wool. Then they could perhaps knit something more saleable than the traditional thick stockings and gloves. And sell to someone other than mean Henry.

  Livia wondered if she could persuade Miss Caraway to take a few knitted motoring scarves, or perhaps thick warm sweaters and woolly hats to sell to walkers in the sports department; that wouldn’t necessarily be sufficient to earn the Flint family a decent living, but it would be a start. They could surely find other shops interested in their goods, perhaps in towns such as Keswick or Ambleside? People needed warm sweaters in this county, didn’t they?

  She began to feel almost optimistic. Maybe it would work if she could but lay her hands on a supply of wool at a reasonable cost, and perhaps a couple of the new-fangled hand-knitting machines. Would Henry lend her the money to do that? she wondered. Could they set up some sort of co-operative?

  Livia felt she could put the evil moment off no longer, but first she must tackle her father.

  Following Maggie’s death, she’d sworn never to speak to him again. Yet Livia knew that there really was no alternative but for her to swallow her pride and confront him. The thought made her feel sick to her stomach, but she had to make him withdraw this eviction notice. Mercy was right. They couldn’t allow him to get away with his bullying any longer. It was long past time she stood up to him. Livia thought of all the other times she’d tried to do so in the past, and failed bitterly. Why would it be any different now, things being as they were between them? Yet for the sake of them all, she surely must try.

  The first sight of her father shocked Livia to the core. He had aged in this past year more than she would have thought possible. Surely he wasn’t suffering from guilt? No, more likely an excess of indulgence. He’d put on weight and looked less well groomed than usual, positively unkempt. There were food stains on his silk cravat, his hair looked in need of a trim and he’d grown a beard. His eyes appeared bloodshot and more askew than ever, and he stank of whisky and stale cigars. But then he no longer had loyal servants or daughters around to see that he ate sensibly and wore clean clothes.

  There was a new maid, Peggy, and he waited until she’d poured two glasses of sweet sherry, bobbed a curtsey and departed.

  Livia glanced about her at the familiar room where she and her sisters had spent so many evenings, her gaze going at once to Maggie’s chair. Her eyes filled with tears, which never seemed far away these days. How she longed to see her beloved sister still sitting there, sweetly smiling as she worked at her sewing, her pink flannel petticoats for the poor. How could she be gone? How could she be dead? The familiar rage swelled in her breast, firing up the hatred Livia felt for their father. It was all his fault. He drove Maggie to do that terrible thing.

  ‘So you’ve come home at last,’ was his opening remark.

  Livia took the glass he offered, straightened her spine, and resolved to come straight to the point. ‘No, Father, I have not come home, nor ever will. I’ve come to take issue with you about this eviction notice. It is completely unfair. The Flint family have never missed a single payment, have gone without food on their table rather than miss paying rent due. I know why you have chosen to persecute them. It’s really me you wish to punish, me you are angry with. But if you have a modicum of compassion, think of the children of the family. You have no quarrel with them.’

  He pulled a walnut from his pocket and cracked it in his palm, as she’d seen him do many times before, then quietly sipped his sherry while he considered her. ‘I take it you’re still not ready to obey your father then, as a good daughter should.’

  Livia almost snorted her disdain and set down her glass with a snap, untouched. ‘Nor ever will be. Don’t think you can bully me any longer, Father. I’m free of your tyranny now. I’m my own person and refuse to be intimidated. I only beg you, please do not involve my friends in this vendetta you’re conducting.’

  ‘All they need do is earn more money, then they’ll have no trouble in paying the increased rent.’

  ‘But it’s an entirely unreasonable sum. Quite impossible, a fortune for what is nothing more than a hovel. They’ve barely enough money to survive as it is, let alone pay more in rent. Henry, too, seems intent on taking out his disappointment over my rejection of his proposal by exploiting the innocent. He’s cut the payments he makes to them for finished work down to a pen
urious level. Does the silly man have no idea of the problems he is causing these people by his callous disregard of their rights to a decent living? I shall have something to say to Henry about that next time I see him.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell him now? I sent the stable lad for him when I saw you arriving on your trusty bicycle.’ And before Livia had time to protest, or point out that nothing had yet been agreed between them about the rent or the threatened eviction, Henry himself was in the room and her father was softly closing the door as he departed.

  ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, then you can talk in private.’

  Livia stood frozen to the spot. This was the last thing she’d expected. To face up to her father had been difficult enough, to cope with them both at once was almost more than her nerves could stand. And she hadn’t even broached the subject of Maggie’s death yet.

  Jumbled thoughts raced through her head. It seemed highly convenient that Henry should be nearby to come running the instant he was called. Had her father planned this? She’d assumed that he’d issued the eviction notice in order to punish her, but had he simply wanted to lure her here? Livia was beginning to feel that she might have been duped, which made her very angry indeed. And if Henry thought he could persuade her into a change of heart over his proposal, he was very much mistaken.

  But was it possible for her to induce him to pay more for the finished work he purchased? She admitted doubts on that score, since the business he did with the knitters of Fellside was diminishing by the day.

  Henry was thinking that this visit was going nicely to plan. He pecked a kiss upon each cheek, relishing the prospect of more later. ‘Livia, what a lovely surprise. You were the last person I was expecting to see today. What can I do for you? Is there some particular reason for your visit, or is this simply a social call? The latter I hope,’ he burbled, his mind racing over possibilities.