Once everyone was seated around the table Mrs Nixon served slices of jellied meat.
“Thank you, Flora,” Catherine said. “Have you been introduced to our guest, Miss Edith Ferguson?”
“Yes, Mr Charles brought her to the kitchen when he arrived.”
Flora inclined her head towards her mistress. Charles noticed she flashed a sharp look in Edith’s direction then she glanced from him to Henry. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you, Flora,” Catherine said again as their housekeeper, cook and general help maid left the room. “Now, I need your honest opinion about this, everyone. I would like to serve it on Christmas Eve. We are expecting quite a crowd so I want to make sure everything is in order.”
Charles eyed the jelly-like substance on his plate. “What is it, Mother?”
“Fruity jellied mutton.” Catherine took a small taste from her fork. They watched as she nodded her head. “Yes, it has a delightful orange tang and is refreshing. Just what we will need for the heat of Christmas Eve.”
They all tried the food and Charles was relieved to find it quite tasty. He noticed his father and Edith finished what was on their plates as well.
“I think we can put that down as a yes, Catherine.” Henry patted at his chin with his napkin.
“It was delicious, Mrs Wiltshire.” Edith quickly added her praise.
“I can’t take all the credit. I came up with the idea and Flora fiddled with the quantities to get it right.”
“Well done, Flora,” Charles said as she came in to collect their plates.
“I should help.” Edith rose.
“There’s no need, Miss Ferguson,” Flora said. “Enjoy your dinner; no doubt you’ll be joining me in the kitchen in future.” She strode from the room with her full tray.
“Oh … I …” Edith sat. “I hope it’s not been too presumptuous of me accepting your kind dinner invitation, Mrs Wiltshire.”
Charles noticed her cheeks were a soft pink, whether from the heat or from the small amount of wine she’d sipped he wasn’t sure. He hoped she wasn’t embarrassed by Flora’s brusque response.
“Of course not, Edith.” Catherine gave the young woman a radiant smile. “It is so lovely to have guests. We try not to be too formal here.”
“It’s only fitting you should eat with us on your first night.” Charles hurried to add his reassurance. He was fond of Flora but she could overstep the mark sometimes.
“But all the same it would be best if you ate with Mrs Nixon once you begin work.” Henry cleared his throat. “Even though we are in the country there are some formalities that should be observed.”
Charles didn’t know what to say. On the one hand he agreed with his father but on the other Edith already seemed like one of the family to him rather than an employee.
“Oh, I do understand, Mr Henry.” Edith looked perfectly calm. “I will be very comfortable in my new accommodation and will take my meals there. Mrs Nixon will have enough to do without looking out for me. I am most grateful for this opportunity.” She turned dark eyes to Charles and smiled. “I fully intend to look after myself.”
“Good.” Henry took a large sip of wine and turned to Catherine. “Now, my dear, who are all these people we are expecting for Christmas Eve dinner? I hope you won’t overdo it. You must remember your poor health.”
“Have you not been well, Mother?”
“I am perfectly well. Your father fusses.”
Charles thought that was last thing his father did, but he didn’t contradict her.
“There will be Ellis Prosser of course,” Catherine began. “That poor man will be spending his second Christmas alone.”
“Any word on the Prosser ladies’ return?” Charles asked.
“Ellis thinks in the autumn,” Henry said. “It will depend on which ship they can book passage on.”
“I am delighted to say Dr and Mrs Chambers and Headmaster Harris and his wife have accepted my invitation to join us. They don’t have other family here in Hawker.” Catherine tapped her fingers together, a smile played on her lips. “I’m not sure about Sydney and Agnes Taylor; they may still be away. Councillor Hill and his wife and daughters, and of course I invited your creamery partners, the Pymans and the Buttons.”
“Really, Mother. Don’t these people have their own Christmas functions to attend?”
“We will all have the day itself with our own families, of course, but I thought it a nice gesture to invite special guests to share one meal with us. We are so isolated here in Hawker I would like to begin a new tradition.”
“Your mother is doing her best to keep us in the community standing we deserve, Charles.” His father gave a disapproving frown. “You should be grateful for her efforts.”
Charles noticed a strange look pass between his parents. They were an odd couple these days. They slept in separate rooms. He had the third bedroom and Laura slept in a little cot in her mother’s bedroom. When they were alone, just the three of them without Laura, all conversation was directed through Charles, and yet they held regular events such as this, where they were the ultimate host and hostess. He wondered if other families were like his. Lonely and cold on the inside yet showing a bright happy face to the community.
“I am sure it will be a wonderful event.” Edith leaned closer to Catherine. “Perhaps I could offer my services to Mrs Nixon. I am a basic cook I’m afraid but I could clear the table and wash dishes.”
“Oh that would be marvellous, Edith.” Catherine beamed. “Thank you. I am sure Flora would appreciate the help.”
“Well that’s settled then,” Henry said just as Mrs Nixon came through the door, her tray laden with the next course.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Wiltshire, but little miss won’t settle without a good-night kiss from you,” Mrs Nixon said as she placed platters of cold meat on the table.
Charles sucked in a breath of annoyance as his mother folded her napkin and rose. He’d forgotten all this bedtime drama while he’d been away.
“She can wait, Catherine,” Henry said.
“It won’t take a moment. She’s probably nearly asleep already.” Catherine waved a hand at the food. “Do continue without me. I shan’t be long.”
Once more Charles noticed the look of annoyance his father gave his mother as she passed.
“How long have you had your business here, Mr Henry?” Edith’s question broke the silence.
“Wiltshires have been here as long as the town of Hawker itself, Edith. We opened our doors in 1881 and we’ve built a fine reputation since then.”
“One that will only improve.” Charles looked from Edith to his father. “Grandmother would like to support us with the extensions to the shop.”
A brief look of surprise crossed his father’s face and then he smiled. “Well done, son,” he said. “Well done.”
Twelve
Henry turned back from the window as Flora ushered in Ellis Prosser. The big man appeared even bigger than when Henry had last seen him, and his face was a florid red. Christmas Eve had been hot from first light, and now it was early evening and no cooler. Outside there was not a breath of wind. Thankfully the thick walls of the house at least kept the temperature lower inside, but it was still warm. Henry stuck a finger between his neck and his stiff new shirt collar and wriggled it in irritation.
“Hello, Henry.” Ellis strode across the room, his hand outstretched. “I thought I was running late. Damned horse shed a shoe. Where is everyone?”
Henry shook Ellis’s sweaty hand. “We are a small group this evening.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been stood up. Who have you offended this time?” Ellis helped himself to Henry’s good whisky and took a swig from the new crystal. It was one of a set, a gift to Henry from his mother for Christmas. Catherine had only placed them on the tray moments before Ellis’s arrival. Ellis gave a sharp laugh. “I’m joking, Henry. You’ve a face like thunder. What’s happened? Catherine’s parties are famous for their
fine food and hospitality.”
“As it happens we have been ‘stood up’, as you say, Ellis.”
“Really?” Ellis took another swig and made himself comfortable in one of Catherine’s fine chairs. “Whatever for?”
“It seems it’s your behaviour rather than mine that has people upset.”
The big man spluttered into his glass.
“Once word got out your name was on our guest list we were suddenly not so popular.”
“What?” Ellis’s huge eyebrows knotted across the bridge of his bulbous nose. “What do you mean, Wiltshire?”
Henry paused. Ellis had helped him with his venture into farming and had stood by him on committees. Their friendship went back a long way. Like Henry, Ellis did not tolerate poor behaviour in employees, although Henry had strong suspicions Ellis was indeed more physical in his dealings. Henry had kept clear of anything distasteful but this last incident was too terrible to ignore. He drew in a deep breath. “It seems you have been reported to the police for beating and whipping a shepherd.”
“I … that’s …” Ellis spluttered into his glass. “I told the constable it was a load of lies cooked up by that lazy bugger who used to work for me.” He spluttered some more. “Can’t even remember his name.”
“Albie, I believe.”
“Yes, he’s the one. Always drunk when he worked for me. Couldn’t do his job, so I sent him packing.” Ellis drew himself up, his gaze steely. “That was a long time ago.”
Normally Henry would back down from Ellis’s dark side but this time he stood his ground. “So you didn’t order your men to beat him and then take your whip to him just recently?”
“The constable came to see me about this already. He spoke to me and questioned my men. I told him we’d had a drunk on the property and sent him packing with a flea in his ear, that’s all. It could have been that Albie fellow — I don’t know. I can’t help it if he was so drunk he injured himself later, but I won’t take the blame for it.”
Henry studied Ellis. He wanted to believe his friend but the stories of the beating endured by the shepherd had been horrific. “The injuries described couldn’t have been from an accident. Someone inflicted them.”
“You’ve been listening to gossip, Henry.” Ellis jabbed his finger in the air. “Now you can listen to me. I can’t believe you would take the word of a lazy servant over mine.”
Henry wavered. “The man has not been well enough to say too much to the police up till this point.”
“There you are then.” Ellis downed the last of his drink. “It’s all gossip. You know how this town is.”
Muffled voices came from the passage and before Henry could clarify what he’d heard the door opened and Catherine entered. She paused when she saw Ellis; a small frown flitted across her forehead and then she smiled.
“Ellis, I didn’t know you’d arrived.” She stepped aside. Sydney and Agnes Taylor followed her in. “The Taylors arrived home on today’s train and have been able to join us.”
Henry saw her lip tremble and he willed her to hold herself together. She had been distressed when their guests had declined one after another, but she had been determined not to spoil their party.
Sydney shook Henry’s hand and then Ellis’s.
Agnes fingered a shiny new brooch at the neck of her shirt. “We knew we’d be able to catch up with several of our friends in one place if we made it here for Christmas Eve.” She paused and looked around. The jewelled drops on the brooch wobbled as she moved. “We are obviously early.”
There was another knock at the door. Catherine glanced hopefully at Henry and retreated to the hall.
“It will be a small gathering.” Henry crossed to the dresser. “Can I offer you a cold lemonade or a glass of wine?”
Voices could be heard in the hall and before the Taylors could answer Catherine was back.
“The Hills have arrived.”
She ushered in the councillor, his wife Anne and their two daughters. Both young ladies were of a similar age to Charles and Henry noticed them looking in his son’s direction.
Mrs Hill looked rather pale, perhaps from the heat. As soon as the greetings were finished her husband took her arm and guided her to a chair. Charles and Catherine offered drinks but the gathering lacked the usual geniality of social events at the Wiltshire house.
A hush fell over the room, punctuated by a giggle from the youngest Miss Hill as Charles handed her a glass of lemonade. Even Ellis was quiet. He’d taken a seat in the corner and was glowering at the gathered guests.
Henry cleared his throat and raised his glass to the room. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
The same sentiment chorused around him.
“What pretty dresses your daughters are wearing, Anne.” Catherine seated herself next to Mrs Hill. “Is that your handiwork?”
Henry ignored Ellis brooding in the corner and asked Councillor Hill about the progress of the referendum to be held in the new year. The separate states were being asked to vote on becoming a nation and he wanted Councillor Hill’s views on the subject.
The conversations were finally flowing when Mrs Nixon came in to announce dinner was ready.
Catherine paled. “Oh, Flora, I forgot to come and tell you we will be ten at table.”
Flora smiled. “I’ve taken care of it, Mrs Wiltshire.”
Henry’s shoulders relaxed. Flora would have been taking in the arrivals and added the extra settings around the table accordingly. He knew Catherine had fiddled for days with the place names, written neatly in coloured ink and decorated with small red berries. Several were now packed away of course but ten was a good number and the seating wouldn’t be so tight.
They crossed to the dining room, where Flora had already set out neat serves of the fruity jellied mutton. From across the table he saw Anne Hill purse her lips as she took in the names either side of hers. She beckoned to her husband.
“I accepted this invitation because you said we should but I will not be seated next to that man.” She spoke in a harsh whisper. Her dark eyes swivelled in Ellis’s direction.
“Don’t fuss, Anne,” her husband murmured. “You can have my place.” He turned to Catherine. “Sorry to rearrange your seating plan, but I rather thought I would like to sit next to Ellis.”
“Oh.” Catherine swept up the offending name card. “No … the ladies are in between … I had it all arranged.”
Agnes and Sydney looked curiously at the Hills and Charles showed the two young ladies to their seats either side of him at the other end of the table.
Henry could see his wife dithering as her careful planning was upset. Catherine was no longer able to think on her feet. She had become an old lady before her time. Today she had chosen to wear a pale pink dress covered in lace and frills. With her pale complexion and ballooning body shape it only succeeded in ageing her further.
“Just a moment,” Catherine said. “I’m sorry everyone. I seem to have made a muddle of the seating.” She made a move towards the younger people’s end of the table.
“And not with my girls.” Anne’s look was positively thunderous.
Ellis, who was the last into the room, looked over Catherine’s shoulder at the paper she held. He’d had several glasses of whisky already. “Am I being removed?”
“Not at all, Ellis,” Catherine soothed. “I made a mistake —”
“The mistake was inviting that man.” Anne Hill’s voice was sharp and clear now.
“What’s this?” Ellis bellowed. “Control your wife, Councillor.”
Anne’s eyes blazed. “Or what, Mr Prosser? You will take your whip to me?”
“My goodness.” Agnes put her hand to her mouth.
“What’s this about?” her husband asked.
“Mrs Hill has been listening to malicious gossip.” Ellis folded his arms across his broad chest. “So much for friends.”
“There was an incident during your absence, Sydney.” Henry felt it his duty to smooth the
waters but he wasn’t sure how. Anne Hill had obviously attended under sufferance and could hold her tongue no longer. “A shepherd was badly injured on or near Prosser’s Run.”
“And I got the blame,” Ellis cut in. “I’ve already been questioned and the constable is satisfied it was not my doing.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” Anne would not let it go.
“Hah!” Ellis snorted and jabbed a finger in her direction. “Gossip.”
“Dr Chambers is not one to gossip,” Councillor Hill said, supporting his wife. “He treated the unfortunate man, whose injuries were so bad they did not think he would live.”
“Nothing to do with me,” Ellis roared. The red of his face and neck deepened.
“Dr Chambers was present when the constable questioned the shepherd again just yesterday,” Councillor Hill said. “The doctor heard everything and so did the young nurse assisting him.”
From there it hadn’t taken long for the news to spread. Henry had heard about it from a customer the previous afternoon and by evening the hurried excuses from their guests had begun arriving. They would all have known Ellis Prosser was a likely attendee for Christmas Eve dinner. The Taylors’ recent return and Councillor Hill’s ambitions for his daughters had provided them with their only guests. Henry glanced across at the two young ladies, still seated either side of his son, and sighed.
“What has this to do with Ellis?” Sydney asked. “He has stated he was not involved.”
“Albie, as the injured man is called,” Councillor Hill continued, “described in detail what happened to him, where and by whom.”
“So the constable will no doubt be paying you another visit.” Anne gave a self-satisfied nod.
“The man’s a liar if he’s blaming me.” Ellis’s bellow filled the room. He glared at the occupants one by one and finally his angry gaze reached Henry. “It’s my word against that of a drunken timewaster.”
“One of your men has come forward.” Anne spoke again. “You can’t buy everyone’s silence, Ellis Prosser.”
“Oh dear.” Catherine’s words were a mere whisper as she crumpled to the floor, a bundle of pale pink lace and frills. Silence followed her collapse.
Jewel In the North Page 12
