The bustle of the city streets, the rattle of the hansom cabs and the calls of the street urchins, the constant passage of people going about their business from dawn until dusk and on into the night, had been both a shock and a source of delight to Ella when she first arrived here. Now she barely noticed it, except when on a hurried errand and she found her way impeded by the sheer number of people out and about. What would her mother make of it all? Ella smiled to herself.
She could hear Sarah’s voice as clearly as if she was standing beside her. ‘What is so important that they have to be going at such speed?’
Ella’s mother’s journeys through Northwaite had always involved stopping to talk to everyone she met and enquiring after their family’s welfare (even if she had only seen them the day before). It could take her the best part of an hour to travel a few hundred yards. More than anything, her mother would struggle to comprehend that the majority of people passing along these streets were strangers to each other, their houses spread over a wide area of the city or its surrounds, their acquaintance more likely to be a result of their business or family connections rather than neighbourliness.
She would be astonished by the traffic on the streets, too. Ella had seen the occasional motorcar as it passed through Nortonstall; indeed, that was how she had first met Mr Ward, her current employer. But Sarah would probably have fainted at the sight of a double-decker horse-drawn bus. Ella began to wish that she had thought to ride one of these from the centre of York; although she had walked fast it was so cold that her face felt as though it had been chipped from a block of marble.
The low wall around Grange House – topped with imposing iron railings, spike-pointed and painted black – came into view. Ella paused to catch her breath, puffed out after keeping up a fast pace on her route out of York. More than once she’d had reason to wish that the family still lived in their previous residence in Micklegate, so convenient for the centre of the city, rather than out here on the edge of the city. They’d moved before Ella had arrived in the household just over a year previously, joining the exodus of the newly wealthy who were building themselves the grand houses surrounded with fine gardens that they could never have within the confines of the city walls.
It occurred to Ella that she had no notion of how to contact Albert again, if for no other reason than at least to apologise for her abrupt departure. Seeing someone from her past like that had thrown her completely off balance and it reminded her that the security she was beginning to feel in her new life was easily challenged. Quite apart from that, Albert had been such a dear friend of Alice and indeed of the whole family. Ella had an inkling that his own home life was less than happy and that the Bancroft household, while often chaotic, was very appealing to him. She had a sudden flashback to his visit to the house not long after her niece Elisabeth, known to the family as Beth, had been born, his mixture of shyness and happiness at being included in their happy family gathering. He wasn’t to know that the celebration, inspired by his presence, wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it had lifted the spirits of the family, mired in bleakness by the chill of the winter and the desperation of their situation. In fact Sarah Bancroft, alone after the death of her husband, with five of her own children to bring up and now a grandchild too, often wondered how food was to be put on the table that night.
Albert had been deeply uncomfortable around Beth that day, being an only child and having no prior experience of babies, but Ella remembered that they had all taken a lot of joy from the evening. She felt sure, though, that his visit had more to do with a wish to see Alice, who was no longer his daily companion at the mill.
He’d changed such a lot in the intervening years, and it gave Ella pain to think of how Alice, too, would have matured if she had only survived her wrongful incarceration in jail. Although Albert had mentioned his work as a stonemason at York Minster, nothing had been said about where he was living now. She had no idea how to go about finding him.
Taking a deep breath, Ella skirted the wall to the servants’ gate set into the side, and pushed it open, only too aware of how late she was. As she hurried towards the heavy door that led into the servants’ domain she remembered how fearful she had been when she passed this way last year, clutching her worldly possessions in a worn cloth bag. Mrs Sugden, or Mrs S as Ella soon discovered she was known to all the servants, had been kind, almost motherly to her that day, accurately assessing her fright and state of mind. Ella, having seen the sterner side of Mrs S’s nature many times since then, feared her reception wouldn’t be so welcoming today. She must have spent an hour or so in Albert’s company: she really was very late.
And so it proved. Mrs S bore down the corridor towards her as Ella attempted to hang up her coat and slip unnoticed into the kitchen with her purchases.
‘Wherever have you been?’ Mrs S demanded, her gaze direct and angry. Scarcely waiting for a response, she continued, ‘You’d better smarten yourself up at once. Mr Ward wants a word with you. He’s in the library. With Mrs Ward.’
Ella was vaguely aware of pale, worried faces peeping around the kitchen door behind Mrs S’s back. There was a hush over the whole area, the usual noise and bustle subdued. Ella sensed that the other servants were frightened, but of what she couldn’t begin to imagine. She hastened to wash her hands and to tuck stray strands of her reddish-blonde hair under her cap, hurriedly pinned in place so that she looked like a proper parlourmaid as she pushed through the green baize door into the house itself, and into the chill of the hallway.
Her mind was in a whirl. Could she really be in this much trouble just for being late? Or had something happened at home? Surely, if this had been the case, Mrs S would have been the one to break the news? This had a much more serious air altogether. For the second time in less than a quarter of an hour, Ella took a deep breath and steeled herself. Then she knocked on the heavy door of the oak-panelled library, pushing it open when the murmur of voices within stilled and Mr Ward called ‘Enter’.
CHAPTER THREE
Mrs S was summoned to conduct Ella from the library to her room. Very little was said as they crossed the threshold through the green baize door and climbed the steep and narrow back stairs to the servants’ quarters, tucked away in the attics. Ella looked out of the windows as they crossed the half-landing on each floor to mount the next flight. The sky outside was darkening and, over the fields beyond the garden wall, lights were beginning to twinkle through a greying dusk. The rush to get everything ready for Christmas had resumed down below, but up here it was cold and quiet.
Mrs S broke the silence. ‘I’ve moved Doris out of the room. She can share with Rosa until it is decided what’s to be done.’
She pushed open the door to the room and Ella passed through, automatically heading for the window to gaze out.
‘You’d be as well to put your things together. I don’t think the master will be wanting to keep you after this.’ Mrs S sighed and closed the door. Ella, staring unseeing out of the window, heard the key click in the lock.
Her cheeks were hot with shame and indignation, her mind a jumble of words unsaid. The thought that floated to the top of this seething mass was the likelihood of the loss of her job. How would her mother manage without the money that Ella sent home to her? How could she begin to tell her what had happened?
Ella turned away from the window and sank onto the bed. Scenes from just a few minutes earlier began to play out in her head.
Mr Ward had been sitting at his desk, Mrs Ward silhouetted in the window, her back to the light so that Ella had found it difficult to read her expression. There was no mistaking Mr Ward’s mood, however. His brows were drawn together in a frown and his mouth pursed into a thin line.
‘Ella, we have reason to believe that you may have been involved in an act that has proved injurious to the health of one of our guests.’
Ella was puzzled, her mind racing to make sense of this turn of events. So it was nothing to do with her late return from town, or h
er family? This was something quite unexpected.
Mr Ward continued, ‘I see you do not deny it. You must have been aware of the potentially fatal consequences of your actions when you entered into this ridiculous pact with Grace. I would like you to go away and think very hard about your behaviour. I have already consulted Mrs Sugden about your character and, whilst she assures me that you have conducted yourself in an exemplary fashion whilst in our employment, I am not minded to be lenient in my view of this. You have run the risk of bringing my good name, and that of my family, into disrepute by your actions. You will go to your room, Ella, and think long and hard on this.’
He turned his attention back to papers on his desk, to signify the interview was at an end. Mrs Ward had not moved throughout Mr Ward’s speech but, as Ella turned to leave – stunned by what she had heard and unsure of how she might defend herself – she saw that Mrs Ward was gazing on her husband with an expression that was very hard to read.
On the silent walk to her room, Ella had struggled to piece the jigsaw together. Something had clearly happened that involved Grace, the youngest daughter of the household, and somehow Ella was taking the blame for it. With a sinking heart, she pictured the small bottle she had handed over to Grace earlier in the week. Stoppered by a cork and without benefit of a label, the pearly glass held a dark, mysterious liquid.
‘Shake it well,’ she’d whispered. ‘And mind, no more than two or three drops in his drink. Be sure to keep the bottle well hidden.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Over on the other side of town, Albert could barely remember how he had found his way home from the tearoom after Ella had delivered the terrible news. After she’d gone, he’d been vaguely aware of curious glances, of conversations briefly stilled, of whispering behind hands. Within a minute or two, though, the large room was filled with its previous level of chatter and he had paid quickly and left, the atmosphere deeply at odds with his shocked frame of mind.
Alice was dead. Ella had given him no further details of what had happened to her sister, of how or exactly when it had happened. He couldn’t comprehend it. Throughout his apprenticeship, spent living alone in York, he had been sustained by the thought of the woods and valleys that surrounded Northwaite, his true home, and of Alice going about her day-to-day routine there. At first, he had thought more often of Alice than of his family, reliving her companionship on walks to the mill in the morning, his visit to see her at home when her baby Beth was born, the warmth and welcome of her family in such contrast to his own. He’d longed daily to be back in Northwaite, but as time passed in York and the opportunity to return home hadn’t arisen, the longing had faded into something held at a distance, in the back of his mind. Alice and Beth, he realised now, had become frozen in time, exactly as he had left them, seven years ago. Seven years! Albert was startled to realise just how much time had passed. No wonder seeing Ella had given him such a shock; she must be almost the same age as Alice had been when he had left Northwaite.
Albert had arrived home without being conscious of how he had done so, his feet treading an automatic path while his thoughts were engaged elsewhere. He needed to find Ella again, to discover exactly what had happened to Alice, and he knew he would have no rest until he had. And if he couldn’t find her, then he would return to Northwaite as soon as possible and seek the truth there. It wouldn’t be the return he had imagined, the return he had subconsciously been putting off until the moment was right. He had wanted to go back as a success, to show his family what he had made of himself, but above all to impress Alice. For well over a year now, his skills had been sought after both in York and elsewhere as word had spread within the close community of stonemasons. So why hadn’t he gone back? Had he feared that the vision he had held in his mind for so long, a fantasy of the part he could play in Alice’s life, could never be realised?
Albert thought back over the events of seven years ago. He tried hard to put the shocking news that he had just heard in context to see how it impacted on everything he knew. His career as a stonemason was a direct result of the fire at the mill, which had employed the majority of the working-age population in his home village of Northwaite. Alice had once worked there, Ella worked there and he himself was a nightwatchman there. On that fateful night, he had tried to put out the fire but it was beyond him, and the mill owner’s son had died in the blaze, attempting to save books and papers from the office. Williams, the overlooker, who had been the only other person present during the fire, had appeared at Albert’s house the very next morning. He had news of a reward given by Mr Weatherall, the mill owner, in recognition of Albert’s heroic efforts to stop the spread of the fire. And, seeing that the mill would be closed for the foreseeable future, there was also the offer of an apprenticeship as a stonemason in York, to be taken up immediately.
Albert had been grateful to Williams and had never thought to question his role in all this and the haste with which he had been despatched. He was only too delighted to get the longed-for opportunity. Now that very same opportunity, which he had hoped would raise his standing in the world and make him a suitable prospect as a husband, was cast in quite a new light. Alice had died, seemingly very soon after he had left, but he didn’t yet know why. A piece of the jigsaw was missing; he needed to talk to Ella again.
Albert sat at the table, still muffled in his overcoat, and looked around, taking in the sparsely furnished room, his neatly made bed in one corner, the desk positioned by the window to make best use of the light, the one easy chair set by the unlit fire. He buried his head in his hands. What had he done?
CHAPTER FIVE
While the family celebrated the festive season, Ella remained confined to her room. She’d spent the night tossing and turning in her narrow bed, dozing fitfully and waking to discover how little time had passed; how the window was still filled with darkness, the sky dotted with twinkling stars. As the stars faded, to be replaced by the grey light of dawn, she felt a sense of relief. Soon she would be able to hear the sounds of the household coming to life; of Doris and Rosa dragging themselves, yawning, down the stairs to start the day. Ella felt a terrible pang of guilt. They would have to take over her duties as well as their own, and all this at Christmastime with so much extra work needing to be done.
Today was Christmas Eve, when the tree would go up in the entrance hall. Last year, Ella had helped to decorate it, her first ever Christmas tree. She’d been entranced by the delicate glass baubles, each one wrapped in tissue paper and carefully boxed. She had never seen anything like it; the tree so tall that the butler, Mr Stevens, had needed to climb a stepladder to hang the decorations from the top branches. He had only managed to place the star on the top by going up to the landing and leaning precariously over, Rosa and Doris hanging on to his coat-tails and squealing while Mrs S stood at the base, alternately telling the maids to shush and gasping in fright herself. When the decorating was finished, and the candles placed in each holder all around the branches, the Wards’ youngest son John was called to see the candles lit for the first time.
Ella had felt sure that his saucer-eyed amazement had only been a reflection of her own expression. She could have stared at the tree for hours, drinking in each and every detail, how the flames of the candles sparkled and reflected in the glass baubles as they spun and shifted in the draughts of the hall.
John’s governess had gone home for the holidays and although Mr and Mrs Ward were there for the lighting ceremony, it was Ella that John sought out, reaching for her hand and gripping it hard, wordlessly. She had bent towards him.
‘It’s beautiful, John. Have you ever seen anything like it?’ She so wished that her niece Beth were here. Ella would have taken her around the tree, pointing out the sparkling colours of the spinning baubles, and the little toys and striped sugar canes hanging from the branches.
John found his voice. ‘Yes, I have. Last year.’
Ella smiled. ‘You can remember it?’
‘Of course I can.’
John was scornful. ‘I’m not a baby. I’m six.’ He paused. ‘It was in our other house and it wasn’t as tall as this one. I think this year’s tree is the best of all.’
Mr Stevens, handing out candied fruits, a Christmas treat for the family and staff, heard John’s words and bent to offer him a fruit jelly.
‘Well, Master John, it’s lucky we had enough decorations to cover such a tall tree. Now, you’ll have to let go of Ella. She has work to do and it’s time for your bed. Christmas Day is nearly here.’
Ella wasn’t sure whether it was she or John who had been the most reluctant to be parted from the spectacle, but the family were moving through to have their drinks and, with extra guests expected, her help would be needed in serving the Christmas Eve dinner. She had bent down to whisper to John, who was exhibiting a mulish expression, bottom lip stuck out and jaw set in preparation for a battle over bedtime.
‘John, Father Christmas can’t visit unless he knows you are asleep. So off you go to bed now and in the morning you can come downstairs to check. If you are lucky, and if you have been a good boy, perhaps he will have left some presents for you under the tree.’
That had been a year ago. She had been so looking forward to a repetition of the ceremony this year, to experiencing the same magical feel and all the wonderful scents of the house at Christmas. She remembered lingering in the hallway every time she had cause to pass through it, to drink in the scent of the pine needles. Instead, she was locked up here alone in the chill of her room, a world away from the lights, warmth and bustle of the household on Christmas Eve. She heard Doris and Rosa go down the stairs, and huddled back under the covers. There seemed little point in getting up, only to sit fully dressed in the cold, with nothing to do except strain her ears for sounds from below that might give her some sense of belonging to the celebrations.
Ella's War Page 2
