by Dilly Court
'Such a grand lady and yet only a parson's daughter without two pennies to rub together, judging by the clothes she wears. I suppose our Ronald was taken in by a pretty face.'
'I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, but you have no right to speak to me in this manner.'
'So, you're not as soft as you look. You'll need a bit of spirit if you're going to survive in this house. I am Ronald's aunt, Joan Braithwaite.' She turned on her heel, calling over her shoulder. 'My sister is waiting for you in the parlour. Follow me.'
She led the way across the entrance hall, which was as ornate and oppressive as the exterior of the house. Stuffed animal heads and sets of antlers hung from the oak panelling, and the sound of their footsteps on the red, white and black tiled floor came back as an echo from the dark recesses of the upper floors. Eloise glanced upwards, and for a moment she thought she saw a pale face peering at her over the carved oak balustrade. She quickened her pace in order to keep up with Joan and the feeble gleam of the oil lamp. Joss was snivelling softly with his face pressed against her neck and she could feel his small body rigid with fatigue. Only Beth slept on oblivious of their new surroundings.
Joan opened a door on the far side of the hall and went inside. Eloise followed her into the large, high-ceilinged room lit by paraffin lamps and candles. 'She's come,' Joan said, setting the lamp down on a side table. 'Can't you stop that child crying? It's making my head ache and you've only been in the house for a few minutes.'
An angry retort rose to Eloise's lips, but before she could speak her mother-in-law rose from her chair by the fireside. She shot a quelling glance at her sister. 'That's our little Ronald you're talking about, Joan.'
'You're mistaken, ma'am,' Eloise said, hardly able to believe her ears. 'My son is called Joseph. We call him Joss.'
Hilda drew herself up to her full height. 'He is Ronald's son and heir, and he will be known as Ronald from now on. You are welcome to stay in my house, Eloise, but you are only here on sufferance because you are the mother of my grandchildren.'
'Ronald should have married a Yorkshire lass,' Joan muttered, scowling. 'We have no time for soft southerners here, miss.'
Looking from one hostile face to the other, Eloise felt as though she had walked into a nightmare. No one in all her life had treated her with such open contempt and dislike. She was numbed with fatigue and faint with hunger. If it had not been so cold and dark outside, and if Cribb's Hall had been closer to town, she would have walked out there and then. Anger roiled in her stomach. 'You have made it obvious that I am unwelcome here, ma'am. If my presence is so odious to you both, I will leave here in the morning and take the train back to London.'
'That's right,' Joan sneered. 'Run away back to your mama. Except that you cannot, because your folks have abandoned you.'
'That's enough, you vinegar-tongued old witch,' Hilda said, turning on her sister with her lips curled in a feral snarl. 'This is my house and you are here under sufferance too, don't you forget it.'
'I won't forget it because you never let me,' Joan hissed.
'No, I won't, because if I hadn't taken you in you would have had to go into service.'
'I am in service, you bitch. Who runs this house? Answer me that. I do, and I do it for nowt. You won't get cheaper than that.'
'And I have to put up with your miserable face every day of my life,' Hilda shot back at her.
Eloise stared at them in disbelief. They were goading each other like two wildcats. If they had fur she was certain that their hackles would be raised. Any minute now she expected them to tear at each other with their claws. She cleared her throat. 'Excuse me, but all I ask is a bed for the night for myself and the little ones. Tomorrow I'll leave, and you will never be bothered with us again.'
Hilda turned to her, staring as if she had only just realised that she was in the room. 'No need to adopt that high and mighty tone, my girl. You are Ronald's widow and the mother of his children. Where else would you go?' She retired to her chair by the fire. 'Joan, ring for Mabel and ask her to show Eloise to her room. You can take the little ones to the nursery.'
'What?' Eloise backed towards the door, holding the children to her with real fear gripping at her heart. 'No, I won't hear of it. My babies sleep with me. I won't have them shut up in a strange room.'
Joss began to wail in earnest, and awakened by his shrieks so close to her ear, Beth too began to cry.
'Good grief, are we to put up with this?' Joan stormed. 'The sooner you get a girl from the village to act as nursemaid the better, Hilda.'
'My babies sleep with me,' Eloise shouted, close to panic. 'And I will care for them. I won't have them looked after by a stranger.'
'You'll do as you're told when you're under my roof,' Hilda said with narrowed eyes. 'But, for tonight perhaps it's best that you keep them with you.'
'Thank you,' Eloise said weakly. Her nerves were shattered and she was close to collapse. All she wanted to do was to lie down in a warm bed holding her babies in her arms. Tomorrow, she would think about what to do next, but for now sleep was what she craved.
Joan pushed past her to tug at a bell pull. 'The girl will take you to your room.'
'Have you eaten?' Hilda demanded. 'We have our tea at five o'clock on the dot. We keep regular hours here in Cribb's Hall, but if you and the boy need food, Mabel will oblige.'
Inexplicably, this modicum of kindness brought tears to Eloise's eyes. 'Thank you, ma'am.'
'If you're to live here with us, then you shall call me Mother,' Hilda said, inclining her head regally, as if this were a huge honour. 'And I shall call you Ellen, which is a good no-nonsense name.'
'Ellen,' Joan repeated, rolling the name round her mouth with relish, as if it were a sugared almond or a piece of chocolate. 'That's better. I can't be doing with fancy names myself.'
'Call me what you please,' Eloise said tiredly. 'I'm sure I don't mind at all.'
Joan wrenched the door open in answer to a timid knock. 'Mabel, show Mrs Ellen to her room.'
'And fetch her some tea and bread and butter,' Hilda said with a condescending smile. 'Never let it be said that we don't keep a good table at Cribb's Hall.'
As Eloise walked past her, Joan caught hold of her arm, her bony fingers pinching Eloise's flesh. 'You may call me Aunt Joan, though don't think that gives you cause to take liberties, young woman. You are as nothing in this house. Nothing.'
Eloise had no answer for this. Her main concern was for her little ones and she followed the flickering trail of candlelight as Mabel crossed the hall and mounted the stairs. Up and up they went until Eloise lost count of the number of stairs they had climbed. Her room was on the third floor, just below the attic rooms where the servants slept. It was cold and had a damp, fusty smell, as if it had been unused for a long period of time. Heavy, mismatched furniture loomed out of the shadows creating monster shapes, and the sash window rattled as if shaken by unseen hands. Mabel lit the candles on the mantelshelf and on the washstand. 'It's a bit cold in here, but I'll put a match to the fire and it'll soon take the chill off the room.'
'Thank you, Mabel.' Eloise went over to the big brass bedstead and sat down, still clutching the children to her. Beth needed a feed and Joss was so tired that he was merely snivelling in a low moan that went straight to her heart.
Mabel soon had the kindling alight and it sent tongues of flame licking round the coals. She sat back on her haunches and turned to Eloise with a shy smile. 'You'll have a right good blaze in a few minutes.' Scrambling to her feet, she approached the bed. 'I'll fetch you summat to eat, and some tea. Would the little fellow like some hot milk?'
'Thank you, Mabel. That would be just the thing.'
'And I daresay a jug of hot water wouldn't go amiss. They say below stairs that you've come all the way from London on the train. Nasty dirty things them trains are, belching steam and spitting out bits of cinder to fly into your eyes. I've only been on one once, but that were enough. Give me the pony and trap any day.'
Mabel tossed her head. 'Oh, her! A right nasty piece of work is Miss Joan. Sour old puss she is, it's no wonder she's an old maid.' She clapped her hand over her mouth. ' I'm sorry, miss. I've said too much. I was forgetting you're family.'
She backed towards the door, bobbed a curtsey and had left the room before Eloise had a chance to answer. Beth's cries could no longer be ignored and Eloise was thankful that she would now be able to suckle her baby in peace. As she sat propped up on pillows, with Beth at her breast and Joss curled up at her side, Eloise closed her eyes, shutting out her surroundings. Outside the house the wind moaned and sighed like a soul in torment. Joss had his thumb plugged firmly in his mouth and his cheeks were tear-stained and grubby. Eloise stroked his damp curls back from his forehead. Ronald, indeed! How dare the hateful woman change her son's name to that of his dead father? How could she even think of shutting two small children up in a nursery far away from their mother? Ronnie would not have stood for such treatment, but then he was not here. She was their only surviving parent and it was up to her to care for them, feed them and protect them from the cruel outside world. She had not been looking forward to placing their lives in the hands of her in-laws, but she could never have imagined the hostility with which she had been greeted.
What would she do? If she left Cribb's Hall, where would she go? Her tired brain could not find an answer. Tomorrow she would think of a way, but one thing was certain, she would not stay in this hateful house a moment longer than was absolutely necessary.
Eloise opened her eyes and was suddenly wide awake. The room was in almost complete darkness, except for the pale outline of the window. She sensed rather than saw a movement at the foot of the bed where Beth lay sleeping in a drawer from the chest. Joss was curled up at her side like a warm puppy, but the sound of breathing was not his, nor was it her own. There was someone else in the room and Eloise snapped upright in the bed. 'Who's there?' Her voice sounded thin and quavery, like that of a frightened child. She sprang from the bed to snatch Beth from her makeshift cradle, and as she did so she felt a waft of ice-cold air rush past her, and the sound of a smothered sigh, or it could have been a muffled giggle. Then there was silence. With Beth in her arms, Eloise tiptoed across the room to close the door, which had been shut when she went to bed but was now wide open. She stood for a moment, listening for sounds of movement in the house, but all was quiet. She had no clear idea of the time, but she tried to rationalise her terrifying experience; perhaps a maidservant had entered the room by mistake? It would be easy enough in the dark. There were no such things as ghosts, she told herself as she closed the door. It must have been a draught which caused it to open, and her overactive imagination had done the rest. With Beth in her arms, she hurried back to bed.
Chapter Three
'I've brought you a cup of tea, miss.'
Eloise opened her eyes, focusing with difficulty. This time it was not a phantom that had awakened her, it was the reassuringly solid and friendly shape of Mabel who stood at her bedside, holding a cup and saucer in one hand and a candle in the other. It was dark outside and Eloise blinked at her, wondering why she had been woken up when it was obviously still the middle of the night. 'What time is it?'
Mabel grinned as she put the cup on the bedside table. 'It's six o'clock, miss. We're early risers here. The master leaves for the factory prompt at seven every day except for Sunday. The mistress has breakfast at ten minutes past seven precisely, so I thought I'd give you time to get up and dressed. She's a stickler for time, as she is in all things.' Mabel bustled over to the fireplace and began clearing the ashes from the grate. 'I'll soon get the fire going. Then I'll fetch you some hot water for washing.'
Eloise sat up in bed and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. Beth was awake now and hungry. Joss was still sleeping, and Eloise moved carefully so as not to disturb him as she put Beth to her breast. 'Thank you, Mabel,' she said softly. 'You're very kind.'
'Why no, miss. I'm just doing my job.'
Eloise reached out for her tea and took a sip. 'What time do you start work, Mabel?'
'Half past five, miss. Except on Sundays when it's six o'clock. Why do you ask?'
'Oh, nothing. I must have had a nightmare because I thought someone came into my room last night. The door was wide open although I know I closed it before I got into bed.'
'I daresay it were the wind, miss.' Mabel scrambled hastily to her feet. 'That's done. I'll fetch you the hot water now.'
She bobbed a curtsey and had sped from the room before Eloise had a chance to continue the conversation, leaving her even more mystified than before. In her heightened state of emotion, she was quick to notice the subtle change in Mabel's demeanour. Perhaps she was protecting someone? It was just possible that one of the servants walked in their sleep. That would be a commonsense explanation and it might explain Mabel's reluctance to speak.
Joss stirred and opened his eyes. 'Mama?' He clambered to his feet, wrapping his chubby arms round her neck to give her a rather moist kiss on her cheek.
'Hello, sleepyhead.' She brushed the tip of his button nose with her lips. 'Be a good boy for Mama while she sees to Beth, and then we'll get dressed and go down to breakfast.' Eloise kept her tone light, but the thought of facing her mother-in-law and Joan filled her with trepidation. Then there was Ronnie's father. At the wedding he had appeared to be so overshadowed by his domineering wife that he had merged into the background. In fact she could hardly remember him at all. He had seemed nice enough, and had welcomed her to the family, but Hilda Cribb had been tight-lipped with disapproval, even though she had made an obvious effort to be pleasant. Maybe she had wanted to show her best side to her son's new wife and family, or perhaps people changed as soon as they entered the grim portals of Cribb's Hall. If his wife was anything to go by, Harcourt Cribb would probably beat his servants, whip his horses and ill-treat his workers. Eloise hitched Beth over her shoulder and rubbed her back until she emitted a satisfactory burp. Joss was jumping about on the bed with unbounded energy: at least their ordeal of yesterday did not seem to have upset her children. Eloise swung her legs over the side of the bed and laid Beth in her makeshift cradle while she dressed. Her skirt and blouse were sadly creased and crumpled, and felt rather damp, but they would have to do. She would ask Mabel to iron the rest of her clothes and hang them somewhere warm to air – if there was such a place in this cold, damp house.
Half an hour later, Eloise made her way to the dining room, following Mabel's somewhat vague directions. With Beth on her hip and Joss holding her hand, she counted the doors leading off the entrance hall, which seemed just as forbidding in the early morning as it had done last night. The stuffed deer heads stared glumly down at her and a fox with its tongue hanging out between bared teeth seemed to be smirking at her discomfort. Dark oil paintings of Highland scenes with stags at bay and another depicting dead pheasants, trophies of the shoot, did nothing to lighten her mood. After trying several wrong doors, finding two locked and one that turned out to be a cloakroom, Eloise at last came to the dining room. The aroma of fried bacon, sausages and hot toast assailed her nostrils and she realised that she was ravenously hungry. So was Joss, judging by the way he dashed towards the table and attempted to climb onto the nearest chair.
'Joss, darling. Wait for Mama.' She stopped short as she realised that they were not alone in the wainscoted dining room. Seated at the far end of the vast mahogany dining table was her father-in-law, a small, grey-haired man with side whiskers and a moustache which sat oddly on his round cherubic face, as if someone had stuck them on for a joke. He half rose from his seat, and he was smiling. 'Come and sit down, lass. I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you last evening, but I had business in Leeds and didn't get home until past midnight.' He motioned her to take a seat beside him at the table.
&nbs
p; 'Thank you, Father-in-law.' Eloise lifted Joss and set him down on a chair. She did not immediately take a seat, but paused awkwardly, not quite knowing how to express her condolences to Mr Cribb on the loss of his son. It was hard even to think of Ronnie without breaking down into tears. 'I – I just wanted to say – I mean – Ronnie's death came as such a blow to me, I can only imagine how it must feel to his parents.'
Harcourt stood up, mopping his eyes with a red silk handkerchief. 'Nay, lass. There's no need for you to fret about us. Mother and me have always known the risks that our Ronald took by choosing a life at sea. Don't think we don't feel his loss as keenly as any other parents, but we're private folks and we keep our tears to ourselves.' He held out a chair for her. 'Sit down and have summat to eat. Heaven knows you've no meat on your bones as it is. We don't want you fading away, now do we?' He chuckled deep in his throat and he patted her on the shoulder. 'What can I get you, lass? Bacon and sausage – our own make of course. Scrambled eggs, kippers – we have the lot here. We keep as good a table as any of the gentry round these parts, and I swear by a good breakfast as being the best start to the day.'
'Some scrambled eggs would be lovely, thank you.'
Harcourt hurried off towards the chiffonier, which was positively groaning beneath the weight of silver serving dishes. A maidservant answered the tug of a bell pull and he sent her off to bring a fresh pot of tea and some toast. He returned with a plate piled high with scrambled egg for Eloise and a smaller one for Joss. 'Here,' he said, holding out his arms. 'Let me hold the little lass while you eat. She's a right bonny little thing, isn't she? I'll wager she has blue eyes just like young Ronald here. They take after our Ronnie in that respect.' He cleared his throat and sat down, cradling Beth in his arms.
'I don't want to hold you up,' Eloise murmured, choosing to ignore the fact that Harcourt had called Joss 'young Ronald', but it made her even more determined to have the matter out with her mother-in-law at the first opportunity. She continued to spoon egg into Joss's mouth. He could feed himself but it was a messy business and she didn't think that Hilda would be too pleased if she came down to breakfast and found her grand dining room turned into a pigsty.
