An Unbreakable Bond

by Mary Wood

  ‘But it isn’t right. It’s not fair as she—’

  ‘Aye, I know it isn’t right that she took me design as her own, and I’ve a mind she’ll carry on doing so, but it’s like Sister Bernadette always said to me and Hattie: “All that’s fair isn’t always right, and all that’s right isn’t always fair.” Anyroad, it’s not all bad, Ciss. Me drawings led to us being able to share a room and be open about our friendship. Hey, watch that toast, it’s scorching! There’s smoke coming from it.’

  Cissy rescued the toast and set things back to normal, acting the fool as she juggled the hot bread. But although Megan laughed at her antics, part of her still felt low in spirits. Sister Bernadette’s words were true; she knew that. But unfairness – right or wrong – still hurt.

  6

  A Misunderstanding Turns to Passion

  Laura Harvey looked across the table at her husband. Have I heard right? ‘You intend to rejoin your regiment? Jeremy, you can’t mean that, surely?’

  ‘I do, Laura. I have thought long and hard, and I think it’s the only way I will have any peace of soul. I’m a military man through and through. My life here is a sham. I was forced to take over the estate after my father died, and I don’t feel as though I’m following my true calling.’

  ‘But if you go, what will happen about the colliery and – and the farm, and the estate?’ She wanted to say And what about me? Us? But then there is no ‘me’ or ‘us’ any more, she thought.

  ‘Laura, Laura, you know very well you can manage without me; you are the only woman I know who has a business head on her shoulders as good as any man’s. Besides, you have done it before. And if, in the unlikely event you want to come with me and become a military wife, then I will appoint a manager.’

  The scratching of his knife on the toast grated on her. It went on longer than necessary as he spread the butter to every corner, and gave him a reason not to look at her. He hardly ever looked at her. And of all the bare-faced cheek: to say that she had a good business head, just because he needed her to take over the running of the estate again! Taking a bite of his toast before placing it down and wiping his hands on his napkin, he picked up his paper and unfolded it. Oh, why does his every movement affect me? She was like a dog waiting for a titbit at his master’s knee!

  ‘I’ve spoken to Charles, and he said he will oversee the financial side,’ his voice droned on. The pain evoked by his words stabbed deeper. Did Daphne know of Jeremy’s plans? Surely Charles would have told her? But no, her sister wouldn’t keep this from her. Daphne had been a tower of strength to her this past year, and Charles had offered to speak to Jeremy about his treatment of her, but she had refused to let him. Of course Jeremy would have had to speak to Charles: their financial matters were dealt with by his bank, and Charles himself oversaw their accounts . . . Jeremy’s voice changed suddenly, bringing her attention back to him. ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘This is my punishment, isn’t it, Jeremy? My God! Don’t you think I’ve been punished enough?’

  ‘Your . . . punishment?’

  ‘Yes. You’ve never said anything, but I’ve known. You blame me for the loss of our son. It’s why you called a halt to my stud farm, and now this.’

  ‘Good God! Is that what you think?’

  ‘What else am I to think? You won’t talk to me about what happened. You’re distant. You no longer come to my bed, and now you want to go away and leave me.’ Tears rained uncontrollably down her cheeks. Images flashed in her mind – images she’d denied herself access to for more than a year. The agonizing birth; the tiny, still body; the blond tufts of hair and the little fingers unable to reach out to her. Then the blackness – the clawing blackness – from which she’d emerged weeks later to face the truth: her child, her baby, was dead, and she would never again be able to conceive.

  ‘Laura, darling, I – I thought you wouldn’t want me. I thought – oh, my darling!’ Jeremy rose and came round the table towards her. Taking her hands, he pulled her up from her chair and held her to him. ‘I tried to comfort you. I tried.’

  Her tears became draining sobs. ‘It was too soon. I wasn’t ready, but then . . .’ She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t pile the pain of his distancing himself from her onto the agony of the loss she held in her heart. It was over, and she was in his arms. He was whispering his own anguish and love into her hair. After a moment Jeremy guided her to a chair, knelt down in front of her and buried his head in her lap. Her crying slowed. Seeing that he too was in pain helped to ease her own.

  ‘He was so beautiful, our little son. He – Leonard – was so beautiful.’

  His words shocked Laura. She hadn’t known he’d been affected in this way, hadn’t thought he could feel what she had. She’d been so selfish in her grief. My God! She had been just as guilty of shutting him out.

  ‘Oh, Jeremy. Jeremy.’ She stroked his hair.

  His crying stopped. He lifted his head, and all that she loved about him was there before her, looking up into her eyes, loving her with his very being. ‘Laura, I’ve missed you so much, darling.’

  ‘Oh, Jeremy . . .’

  They stood without bidding each other to do so. Joined in pain. Joined in love. They clung to each other. His kiss, when his lips found hers, brought together and helped to heal the torn seams of her world. Feelings she’d denied herself for so long crept over her and were answered in the deepening of his kiss. ‘Shall we go upstairs, darling?’

  She giggled at his question – a silly, girly giggle. ‘The chambermaid . . .’

  ‘Well, the guest wing then?’

  ‘No, Jeremy, they will know. They’ll have to redo the bed.’

  ‘Stop putting hurdles in my way, wench! I mean to have you and will do so right here, if we can’t agree on a suitable place.’

  Her giggle became a belly-laugh of the kind she hadn’t experienced for such a long time. She’d forgotten what a clown Jeremy could be. His laughter joined hers, but not for long. She was in his arms again, clasped so close that she could feel his need pushing against her. Her own desire became a hunger. Neither of them said anything. Their love, reignited, didn’t need a voice or any clowning around. Their kisses expressed all of their inner feelings. It was Jeremy who broke away, took her hand and led her across the hall to her office, locking the door behind them. ‘We won’t be disturbed, darling. The servants know what’s afoot. Didn’t you hear the door open and then close again?’

  She felt a moment’s embarrassment, but it faded into oblivion when he took her in his arms and rained kisses over her face, her neck and her breasts as he manoeuvred her towards the couch.

  Undressing wasn’t a slow, dignified process. Garments were discarded in a frenzy of activity, and their eyes held all of their hunger and need. No time was given for fondling. None was needed; only a joining of their bodies would satisfy their craving. A joining that came the moment the soft cushions accepted Laura’s naked flesh. The deep penetration was everything she wanted it to be, and the words of love Jeremy spoke were all that she wanted to hear. Her body accepted and responded to the desperate thrusting with an urgency that begged to be released – a release that came with an ecstatic pulsating that caused her body to stretch out beneath him. ‘Oh, Jeremy! Jeremy. Stop. Stop, darling. Please . . .’

  He held still. Her muscles clenched around him as spasms throbbed through her that were beyond endurance. His mouth covered hers and absorbed her moans. His hands searched and caressed her breasts, her buttocks and the deep crevice of her back, until finally she relaxed and allowed his deep thrusting to continue, until his body released his love into her.

  They lay still, locked together for some time afterwards, cementing their love in the stillness. Their closeness, and what they had just shared, said all they needed to say. After a few moments Jeremy eased himself from her and looked down into her face, murmuring, ‘My darling, I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too, my sweetheart.’

  A shadow of concern passed
over his face. ‘If only I’d known.’

  ‘What is it, darling? What’s wrong?’

  He didn’t answer her as he climbed off her, sat on the edge of the sofa and pulled on his trousers.

  A sinking feeling banished any trace of ecstasy Laura had just felt as she anxiously enquired, ‘Jeremy?’

  He gathered up her clothes. ‘Here, darling. Put these on and we’ll talk.’ Once they were dressed, he took her in his arms for a moment and then eased her down onto the sofa. ‘If only I’d known before, I wouldn’t have rejoined my regiment. But with everything how it was, it was unbearable. I wanted to get away. Oh God, it’s too late – too late . . .’

  ‘No. No! I don’t want you to go! How could you have taken such a step without talking to me about it?’

  ‘I felt so certain you couldn’t bear me to be around. I’m sorry, my darling, I’m sorry. Forgive me.’

  ‘Won’t they release you, darling? Can’t you change your mind?’

  ‘I’ve signed! Oh, Laura . . .’ He wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Don’t cry, darling. I’ll be home as often as I can be, and you can join me for functions. We can stay together in our London home.’

  He pulled her into his arms again. She’d always thought of tears as a weakness, but she didn’t try to battle against them now. It seemed her whole body wanted to weep. To weep for the feeling of loss, which she’d denied until now. To weep for the love that had been frozen for so long, and for the loss she now faced at not having Jeremy alongside her. Jeremy held her throughout. Slowly, she came to an acceptance.

  Part of her knew she would relish taking the reins again and, as Britain wasn’t involved in any conflicts, Jeremy would be safe. And it might work out that life would stay much the same as it was now, as they had always had their separate interests and often spent time apart. And yet somehow she knew it wouldn’t be the same; it would be much more enriched, for she would be safe in Jeremy’s love and she knew that when they were together there would be no more coldness. Instead there would be passion and good times, just as it was before . . . before . . . No. She’d not let those thoughts in again. Instead she would delight in the second chance she had been given.

  7

  A Lonely Path is Taken

  ‘You’re looking under the weather these days, Hattie. Is owt wrong, lass?’

  ‘No, Cook, I’m all right.’

  ‘Is it your bleeding? Have you started with that yet?’

  ‘Aye, I have, and happen it’s that as is coming on.’ Hattie hurried out of the kitchen, afraid to stand under Cook’s scrutiny for long, and embarrassed at her blunt way of talking. It was her bleeding that she was worried about, but not its coming – quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been due over a week ago and nothing had happened.

  There was no one amongst the staff she felt she could talk to about it. She wanted to, but it was a question of whether she’d be believed, and what would happen if she wasn’t. She had a plan, though. As soon as she got her first leave days and her wages, she would be off. She’d go to Daisy and ask for her help.

  She had thought of borrowing a stamp and some paper and writing to Megan to confide in her, but shame still burned in her and stopped her from doing so. Megan was a part of her life that was clean and trouble-free. She didn’t want to taint that with the dirtiness she now felt was shrouding her.

  Every time she thought of what had taken place, she became more convinced that Mrs Barker had had a hand in it. Why would the master and that other one think I knew the reason for being there? In fact they had said, ‘Mrs Barker will have told you . . .’

  Hattie had just sat down to have her breakfast with the rest of the staff when Cook questioned her again. ‘Eat up, lass. You’ve hardly eaten owt for days now. Are you sure you feel all right?’

  ‘Aye. I’m tired, that’s all, Cook. I’ll be reet when we get Christmas over and I get me leave days. I’m going to stay with a friend in Leeds. I’ll be a different person when I get back.’

  ‘You are coming back then?’ This shocked Hattie, as did the way Cook was now looking at her. ‘We’ve all been there. It’s not easy to come back when you have your first time away from here, with your wages in your pocket an’ all. But it’s hard out there. You’ll not find the same protection as you have in here, especially with you not having a family.’

  As usual, everyone was surprised when Betty spoke, but what she said caused them all to take a sharp intake of breath. ‘Has sommat happened, Hattie? We know the way of it and can be of help, thou knows.’

  ‘Bet—’

  Cook didn’t have a chance to even finish saying Betty’s name before the kitchen door flung open and there stood Mrs Barker, glaring at them. ‘What is going on? I have my hatch open and . . . well, it’s obvious you all have more than enough to say.’ She directed her gaze at Betty.

  ‘Aye, well, you can’t be at marrying this one off. She’s only just on thirteen!’ The scraping of Betty’s chair on the stone floor before it crashed to the ground made them all jump, and shattered the death-like silence that had fallen. A sobbing Betty ran from the kitchen.

  Cook stood up. ‘It’s not still happening, is it? By God, no! I thought after Aggie . . . But Betty and – and young ’un here?’

  Beads of sweat trickled a shiny path down Mrs Barker’s colourless face.

  ‘God! You’ve sommat to answer for, Jean Barker!’ Cook’s voice shook with anger. ‘Well, this time you can answer to Madam, because I’m going to do as I’ve told you I’d do if it happened again. I’m going to tell Madam everything from what part you play in it and how you profit from it, an’ all!’

  There was a moment when Hattie thought Mrs Barker would crumble. Her body shook and swayed from side to side, but she pulled herself together and walked out of the kitchen.

  Cook took charge. ‘Right, off with you! Go on, all of you. Get to your work. And you, too, Jimmy. And close your mouth before flies take root in there.’ The stable boy did as she ordered, without his usual backchat. ‘Florrie!’ Cook’s commanding tone stopped Florrie just as she was heading out the door. ‘Find Betty and send her back in. Tell her I want her to help me with Hattie. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.’

  The silence that followed the commotion took hold of Hattie. Cook came round the table to her, saying, ‘Eeh, Hattie lass. Tell me what happened.’

  The words wouldn’t form. Her stomach lurched; her head swam. The heat of the kitchen was dragging at her tired limbs. She was sinking . . . sinking . . .

  ‘Come on, Hattie lass. Everything’ll be all right. We’ll help you.’

  The soothing voice that met her as she emerged from the blackness caused her tears to spill over.

  ‘There, there. Let it all out. Hold her a mo, Betty. There’s a good lass. Come on now, tell us what happened.’

  A feeling of safety surrounded Hattie. She could tell them the truth, and they would understand. She leaned heavily on Betty as she told them what she could, though the shame of her story only allowed her to tell some of it.

  ‘Same thing happened to me,’ Betty said. ‘It were the start of the summer season. Mrs Barker made me pass this off as Cory’s.’ She jabbed at her stomach. ‘She knew we were talking of being wed, but Cory hadn’t touched me. He isn’t the same with me now. He married me because he were told he’d lose his job if he didn’t. He wanted to be first, as it should be, but now . . . well, I don’t know which one fathered me babby.’

  ‘Oh, by God, Mrs Barker will not get away with this! I caught her out before. Years ago. It was a young lass by the name of Aggie. In fact she came from the convent you’ve come from, Hattie. Anyroad, you know how the tale goes. Well, young Aggie came screaming to me in the night. I spoke to Mrs Barker about it, but she played the innocent, though I always suspected she had a part in it, as Aggie had said. I noticed Mrs Barker were flush for a while after, going off and buying new clothes. She said it wouldn’t be happening again, as she’d make sure it didn’t. I didn’t want to,
but I left it at that and haven’t had reason to suspect owt since. By, but she’s been clever with it.’

  ‘It happened to Daisy an’ all,’ Hattie told them. ‘I didn’t know it were here she’d worked, until you told me, Cook. But Daisy told me the master of the house where she worked had forced her to do it. That’s why she ran off.’

  ‘Right, that’s it! Betty, get on with clearing this lot. You help her if you feel up to it, Hattie. I’m going to see Lady Marley.’

  When Cook had left the room, Betty asked, ‘Are you worried over owt else, Hattie? Have you started having your bleeding? And . . . and did they hurt you badly?’

  ‘Aye, me bleeding hasn’t come, and it were bad.’

  ‘Oh, dear. You could be caught. Aye, I know as you’re only young, but once you have your bleeding, then you can get caught for a babby. Look, don’t worry. Cook’ll sort sommat out.’

  ‘I’m not coming back. Don’t tell Cook about me bleeding not coming, Betty. She’ll not be able to help me and, if they know, I’ll be shipped off to some convent, and I couldn’t bear that. I have a plan: as soon as I have me wage, I’m off. I’m going to Daisy.’

  ‘Aye, happen as that’s best. I s’pose as I were lucky having Cory, even though everything’s been spoilt by it all. But Hattie, you know you can come to me and Cory any time if you get stuck. We understand and we’ll help you all we can.’

  ‘Ta, Betty.’ The words were barely discernible as Hattie’s unshed tears took their course, and Betty cried with her. They held each other, finding some comfort in their mutual understanding.

  Not even two hours had passed before Mrs Barker left, taking all her goods and chattels with her. Her parting shot at Cook was to flash her handsome pay-off money at her, as if in triumph. But Jimmy brought her back down to earth: he drove the trap round to the back of the house for her, but he didn’t help load her boxes, and everyone laughed each time she dropped something.