by Dilly Court
'Nay, mistress. She had come for them, the ghost of Cribb's Hall. I seen her with me own eyes. She were six foot tall at least and she had eyes like burning torches. I tell you, I seen her, mistress.'
'Nonsense, girl. There are no such things as ghosts. You must have had a nightmare.'
'I were warned about the wandering woman, mistress. They told me below stairs that she roams the house by night. I tell you I seen her just now.'
Eloise chuckled with sheer relief. 'They were teasing you, Nancy. It sounds to me very much like a joke, a rather cruel one, but a joke nevertheless. Go back to bed, like a good girl.'
Nancy shook her head vehemently. 'I'll not sleep in there. I'm scared.'
'Very well, then I'll sleep in the nursery with the children. Hold Beth for me while I get out of bed. You shall sleep in here tonight, Nancy. I will take your bed and I will prove to you that it was just a bad dream.'
Eloise put the children back in their respective cots. Then she went over to the fireplace and, on discovering a few glowing embers, she used the bellows to get the fire going again. With a satisfying blaze warming the room and creating a comforting circle of light, Eloise climbed into the bed that Nancy had recently vacated and she lay down to sleep feeling much happier now that she was in the same room as Joss and Beth. She smiled to herself as she thought of Nancy's vivid imagination and the enormously tall ghost with flaming eyes.
She must have fallen into a deep sleep for when she was awakened by a soft shuffling sound, Eloise sat bolt upright. In the faint glow of the dying fire, she saw something that made her gasp with fright. Leaning over Beth's cot was a tall figure dressed in a flowing white robe. Eloise stuffed her hand in her mouth to stifle a scream.
Chapter Four
Without stopping to think, Eloise took a flying leap off the bed and dived across the floor with the ferocity of a female tiger protecting her young. 'Go away,' she screamed. 'Leave my babies alone.'
With a strangled cry, the woman crumpled to the floor, covering her head with her arms as if to ward off a rain of blows. Eloise stopped short, staring at the cowering figure in a mixture of shock and dismay.
'Don't hurt me, missis.' The muffled voice sounded oddly childlike and the woman was trembling violently.
Eloise laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. 'I won't hurt you. Get up and let me see your face.'
Obediently, the woman rose slowly but she backed away from Eloise, keeping her head bowed. Although the poor creature was head and shoulders taller than she, Eloise was oddly touched by her obvious distress. Now that she knew her children were safe her heart had ceased to thud painfully against her ribs and she was able to think rationally. 'Are you a servant in this house?'
The woman shook her head.
'Then who are you? What are you doing here?'
Staring down at her bare feet, the woman began to weep. 'I did no wrong. Don't punish me.'
'Sit down, please.' Eloise pulled up a chair, hoping that the distressed creature would sit before she collapsed onto the floor. 'Don't be frightened. No one is going to harm you. Won't you at least tell me your name?'
'My baby,' the woman whimpered, burying her face in her hands. 'I came to find my baby. I heard her crying, I know I did.'
Realising that the woman was past reasoning, Eloise approached her cautiously. She took her gently by the hand and led her to the chair. 'I am sorry, but that is my baby, not yours.'
'N-not mine? But I heard a baby crying.'
'The baby you heard is mine. Her name is Elizabeth, but we always call her Beth, and my son Joseph is sleeping in the other cot. We call him Joss and my name is Eloise. What do they call you?'
'Ada, that's what she calls me.'
'And who is that, Ada?'
'Miss Joan. She'll be cross with me and beat me. You won't tell her that you saw me, will you? I just wanted to see my baby, but you say she's not here.'
Eloise slipped her arm round Ada's thin shoulders. 'No, dear. Your baby is not here. I am so sorry.'
'I'll go now,' Ada said, rising unsteadily to her feet. She bent her head to peer into Eloise's face. 'I like you.'
'And I like you too,' Eloise said gently. Even in the dim light she could see that Ada's face was smooth and unlined like that of a young child, although she was clearly an adult and could have been any age from twenty to forty. 'Shall I take you back to your room, Ada?'
'N-no, missis. I'll get a whipping if she finds out I've been wandering again. I'm not supposed to wander. They mustn't see me.'
'Who mustn't see you?'
'The others. The servants and the other people in the house. I have to stay in my room.'
'All right,' Eloise said slowly, not wanting to alarm her further. 'But I still think I should see you safely to your room and make sure you are tucked up in bed. Shall I do that, Ada?'
As trusting as a small child, Ada held out her hand for Eloise to hold. 'My mama used to put me to bed. She's dead, you know; that's why I had to come to live with Miss Joan.' Ada clamped her hand over her mouth. 'I shouldn't have told you that.'
Eloise led her to the door. 'I won't tell a soul.'
Seemingly satisfied with this, Ada allowed Eloise to accompany her along the corridor and up the staircase to the servants' quarters on the top floor. At the very far end of a long narrow passage, Ada opened a door that led into another and even narrower passage. It was obvious from the musty smell and the mesh of cobwebs dangling from the ceiling that this part of the house was little used. It was so dark that Eloise could only just see the pale glimmer of Ada's white nightgown as she blundered onwards, seemingly oblivious to the claustrophobic atmosphere. When they finally came to a halt, Eloise thought at first that Ada was kept hidden away in some sort of garret, but on entering the room she was amazed to discover a large airy space. Thick pads of snow covered the roof windows, gleaming palely in the light of several oil lamps, and a fire burned in the grate behind a brass nursery fireguard. A large wooden rocking horse stood in the middle of the floor, and the stark white walls were adorned with what appeared to be pages torn from a scrap book. In one corner stood an iron bedstead covered with a bright patchwork quilt, and rag dolls with painted smiles on their faces lay on the rumpled pillow. The bare floorboards were dotted with brightly coloured rugs and littered with children's books.
Ada loped over to the bed and leapt upon it, scooping up an armful of dolls and cuddling them to her flat chest. 'Mine,' she said, smiling for the first time. 'I made them all, as I made the baby that grew in my tummy.' Her face crumpled and tears spilled from her pale eyes. 'They took her away from me. I keep looking for her but I can't find her.'
Touched beyond measure by this simple child-woman, Eloise went to put her arms around Ada and she gave her a hug. 'I am so sorry, my dear. That must have been dreadful for you.'
Ada wiped her nose on the sleeve of her cambric nightgown. 'They say she died, but I don't believe them. My mama died and she was cold and stiff, but my baby was soft and warm and she had blue eyes, like me. I'll find her one day, I will.'
'I'm sure you will, but I think you ought to get into bed now and try to sleep.' Eloise pulled back the coverlet and held it while Ada obligingly snuggled down between the sheets. It was like dealing with Joss, Eloise thought sadly as she bent down to kiss Ada on the forehead. 'Goodnight, my dear. Sleep tight – don't let the bed bugs bite.' It was a silly saying from her earliest memories of childhood, but it seemed appropriate and it drew a responsive chuckle from Ada, who curled up with an armful of dollies and closed her eyes.
Eloise crept out of this strange other world and closed the door softly behind her. It was bitterly cold on the top floor and her thin nightgown felt like ice as it touched her bare skin. She was terrified of losing her way in the dark, but some deep instinct and a desperate need to return to her children guided her feet through the maze of corridors as she hurried back to the nursery. After making certain that Joss and Beth were sleeping peacefully, Eloise crawled into bed, b
ut she could not relax. She was chilled to the bone, and as she lay there shivering her mind was filled with questions. Who was Ada? Why would Joan Braithwaite want to keep her hidden from sight? Obviously the servants had a vague knowledge of Ada's existence, but both Mabel and Nancy seemed to think of her as a ghost rather than as a flesh and blood being. Eloise was intrigued and curious but also saddened to think that such a simple soul could be treated with such callous •indifference. There was little she could do about it, but she knew she would not be able to rest until she had discovered the dark secret which kept poor Ada a virtual prisoner. Of one thing she was certain: the person who had all the answers was the formidable Joan.
Next morning Eloise was already up, dressed and had given Beth her morning feed when Mabel arrived with a jug of rapidly cooling water for the washbowl and a scuttle filled with coal for the fire. 'Goodness me, missis. You never slept in here, did you? What will Miss Joan say?'
Eloise patted Beth's tiny back as she lay over her shoulder. 'Miss Joan won't know and I doubt if she would care. Nancy had a bad dream and so I allowed her to sleep in my room. Anyway, I prefer to be in here with my children.'
Mabel put the jug down on the washstand. 'She won't like it, missis. I can tell you that for nowt.' She hefted the scuttle over to the fireplace and went down on her knees, energetically riddling the cinders. 'And I almost forgot, but Miss Joan told me to tell you that breakfast is served and you must go down to the dining room right away.'
'I'd rather take my meals here in the nursery with the children. You can tell her that when you go downstairs, Mabel.' Eloise laid Beth on the bed while she turned her attention to Joss, who was not yet dressed and was toddling around the room exploring his unfamiliar surroundings.
Mabel shook her head. 'I doubt if she'll allow it. She's a right stickler for rules is Miss Joan.'
'And my children come first,' Eloise said firmly. 'If you're too scared to tell her, then I'll do it myself.'
Mabel answered by ducking her head down and sweeping the ash into a dustpan. Eloise resigned herself to another battle with Miss Joan. Leaving Joss and Beth with Nancy, who had finally put in an appearance still slightly bleary eyed with sleep, Eloise went downstairs to face her mother-in-law and Joan in the dining room.
'You're late,' Hilda snapped. 'I've told Hopkins to take the food back to the kitchen. You'll have to eat in there with the servants if you can't be bothered to keep to proper mealtimes.'
Joan looked up from buttering a slice of toast. 'I warned you, young lady. Don't say as how you weren't warned.'
Eloise faced them with her hands clasped firmly in front of her. 'I came to tell you that I would prefer to eat in the nursery with my children.'
'What you would prefer is neither here nor there,' Hilda said grimly. 'Children eat in the nursery and grownups eat in the dining room.'
'Yes,' Joan added with a spiteful sneer. 'If you want to be treated as a member of this family then you will abide by the rules, Ellen.'
'My name is not Ellen. It is Eloise and my son's name is Joseph, not Ronald.' She had not meant to raise her voice, but she was furious with these two hard-faced women who pretended to have loved Ronnie. She doubted if they knew the meaning of the word.
Joan rose to her feet and her cat-like eyes blazed with malice. 'You will be called whatever we choose to call you, lady. And you will learn manners while you are living here under my sister's roof. Your presence will be tolerated even if it isn't welcome, but you will do as you are told.'
'I am not a child, Joan Braithwaite,' Eloise said in a low voice. 'Nor am I a simple-minded soul who can be locked up in an attic room and kept out of sight.'
Joan collapsed back onto her seat and her pale face flushed wine red and then paled to ashen. 'You've been snooping, you little viper.' She turned to her sister. 'You heard how she spoke to me, Hilda. Say summat, for pity's sake.'
Hilda shook her head and her lips twisted into a snarl. 'I told you it would come out sooner or later, Joan.' She rose from the table. 'It's your mess, sister. You clean it up.' She stalked towards the door, but as she passed Eloise she paused and her voice lowered to a hiss. 'And you will mind your manners, Ellen, or you will find yourself turned out on the street without a penny to your name. It's a long walk to Africa.' She slammed out of the dining room.
'You little bitch,' Joan snarled. 'See what you've done. Why did you have to come here and stick your nose into our business?'
'It was not from choice,' Eloise retorted angrily.
'No, I don't doubt that. Ever since you set foot over the threshold, you've made it plain that you consider us to be beneath you. Well, a fine family you come from, I must say. They couldn't wait to be rid of you.'
'That is not how it was. Don't you dare criticise my parents.' Eloise drew a deep breath. Controlling her temper with difficulty, she realised that Joan had skilfully manoeuvred the conversation away from herself. 'But we weren't talking about my family, were we? I'm not surprised that you want to conceal the fact that you have a poor soul locked away upstairs and that you mistreat her.'
Joan rose slowly from the table and she advanced on Eloise with a martial gleam in her eyes. 'You don't know what you're talking about.'
'Then tell me why you have Ada shut away like a lunatic, when she is obviously no danger to anyone.' Eloise held her ground. She was a little scared of Joan, but she was also extremely angry. She met Joan's basilisk stare without blinking, even though inside she was quaking. 'Well? What do you say to that?'
'I say that you are a meddling little busybody who ought to keep out of other folks' business. But I'll tell you this for nowt, Ellen. That creature is my cousin, Ada Braithwaite, who was left orphaned some years ago and who would have been locked up in a madhouse if I and my sister had not taken her in.'
Eloise took a step backwards as Joan leaned so close to her that she could feel her hot breath on her cheek. 'I – I'm sure she is no danger to anyone.'
'So you think, lady. Well, let me tell you I have the scars to prove it, when all I have ever shown her is kindness. Don't be fooled by our Ada. She can be meek and mild as anything one moment, and a raving madwoman the next.'
'She said you beat her.'
'And you would take the word of a lunatic above mine?' Joan tossed her head and her lips curled in a sardonic smile. 'Mind your own business, Ellen. And don't meddle in matters that do not concern you. Now, go to the kitchen and see if Cook has saved you some breakfast. If not, you'll have to go hungry until dinner time, which is served prompt at midday. Anyway, I have better things to do than to stand round wasting my breath on the likes of you.' With that, Joan walked away with a swish of starched petticoats, leaving Eloise standing alone in the dining room, staring after her. Somehow she did not quite believe Joan's story. She could not put her finger on it, but there was something in it that did not ring quite true. That Ada was disturbed was obvious, and that she had the mind of a child was also apparent, but Eloise could not believe that Ada was a violent lunatic.
In the days that followed, life settled into a basic if dull routine. Hilda and Joan remained in ignorance of the fact that Eloise slept in the nursery with her children. Nancy was delighted to have a bedroom all to herself and Mabel had been sworn to secrecy, so the flouting of Hilda's wishes passed unnoticed. Eloise spent her days mainly in the nursery with Joss and Beth, only leaving them for her compulsory meals in the dining room, or occasionally during their nap times when she took the opportunity to venture outside the house in order to get a breath of fresh air.
Joan largely ignored her and if Hilda spoke it was only to deliver some homily, or occasionally to enquire as to 'our Ronald's' health. She still refused to call him Joss, and she showed little interest in Beth, who was merely a girl. Eloise soon learned that she could not win with her mother-in-law. If she said nothing, she was accused of sulking. If she attempted to voice an opinion she was branded a know-all, and if she retaliated when goaded, she was told to hold her tongue and given
a lecture on ingratitude.
In the evenings, when Harcourt dined at home, Eloise was grimly amused to note that Hilda and Joan treated her quite differently. On these occasions, Hilda masked her animosity towards Eloise with such skill that an onlooker would have been convinced that she was a concerned and affectionate mother-in-law. Joan was not so hypocritical, but she refrained from making the barbed and bitter comments that were her customary way of speaking to Eloise. Unfortunately business called all too often and Harcourt rarely returned home until long after the evening meal was over, but Eloise was well aware that without his benign influence life at Cribb's Hall would have been intolerable.
As the days turned into weeks, Eloise came to rely more and more on Mabel, who kept her up to date with everything that went on below stairs and amused her with scraps of gossip from the village. As the weather began to improve, Eloise had let slip to Mabel that she would love to take the children out walking, but this was almost impossible, as Joss could not walk very far and Beth was too heavy to be carried for long distances. One sunny morning in late March, Mabel came to the nursery bubbling with suppressed excitement, and she insisted that as it was such a lovely day it would be criminal to stay indoors. With the children well muffled against the biting east wind, Eloise followed Mabel down the servants' stairs and out into the stable yard, where she discovered that Ted was waiting for them grinning from ear to ear. With a flourish that would have done credit to a stage magician, he snatched a piece of sacking from a sturdy wooden pushcart. 'There, ma'am. What do you think to that?'
Mabel nudged Eloise in the ribs. 'It's for the little 'uns,' she whispered. 'Our Ted made it all by himself.'
'I daresay it isn't as grand as them perambulators that the rich folk have for their babes,' Ted said, puffing out his chest. 'But it'll save you having to carry the little lass, and Master Joss can have a ride when he gets tired of walking.'
For a moment, Eloise couldn't speak. She had grown hardened to the verbal abuse from Hilda and Joan, but this extraordinary act of kindness made her want to cry.
