Jarrow Trilogy 02 - A Child of Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Taylor’s eyes lit with interest, yet he was cautious. Why was someone with Kate’s good looks and manners looking for work in a public house?

  ‘You’re not in any trouble, are you?’

  ‘Course not.’ Kate was offended. ‘I’m a hard worker and I want to stay in the country.’

  That seemed good enough for Taylor. ‘When can you start?’

  ‘Day after the morra, if you like.’

  ‘Done. Mary can gan up and help bring your bags down.’

  Kate said quickly, ‘I can manage on me own.’ She wasn’t sure how Mary would take to the idea of her working there, let alone being told to fetch and carry for her. But she could tell by the pleased look on the landlord’s face that he thought he had just employed a lass of quality who would be good for business.

  Two days later, Kate was working at the inn and sharing a cramped attic bedroom with Mary once more. Her sister did not seem too dismayed at the situation, for Kate brought all the inside gossip from Farnacre and the castle.

  ‘Just like old times, sharing a bed again, eh?’ Kate teased.

  ‘Aye, and we’re sharing all the chores an’ all,’ Mary reminded her.

  For a few weeks it went well and the two sisters spent their half-days off together, going up to Kibblesworth to see Suky and her young husband in their own two-roomed house. Bill was a hewer, a skilled pitman on good wages, whom Suky had chosen with her head as much as her heart. Still, they both seemed content enough.

  ‘Glad you’re getting on grand at the inn,’ Suky said.

  ‘It’s thanks to me she got the job,’ Mary boasted. ‘Told Mr Taylor she was a hard grafter.’

  Kate said nothing to spoil Mary’s story, for she did not mind her taking the credit. But just before Christmas, their old wrangling started again.

  ‘How come you get to serve at table instead of me?’ Mary demanded tearfully after a hectic night. ‘I should have that job.’

  ‘It’s that busy,’ Kate said, flopping down in exhaustion on the icy bed. ‘He just asked me, that’s all.’

  ‘Just ‘cos you put on airs and graces - pretend you’re better than the rest of us.’

  ‘No I don’t - I just work harder than some.’

  ‘Meaning me, I suppose? Well, just look at me hands - red raw with washing up in cold water! While you get to serve at table and behind the bar. Gabbing on with all the lads - I’ve heard you.’

  ‘I’m just being civil to the customers like Mr Taylor wants.’

  ‘Hark at her! “Civil to the customers.” Stop talking all posh.’

  Kate lost patience. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want your twisty face putting them off.’

  Mary kicked her under the covers. ‘I hate you! You always get what you want - just ‘cos butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’ Then she burst into floods of tears.

  Kate remembered what it had been like at home and her heart sank. The only difference was that there wasn’t John McMullen to fuel the criticism of her. She’d put up with Taylor’s demands for hard work any day. Turning over, she put out her arms and tried to comfort her resentful sister.

  They went home briefly for Boxing Day and swapped news with Sarah and their mother, who insisted she could still manage at the cottage without them. Mary went off to visit Aunt Maggie but they caught the same train together back to Lamesley.

  ‘Glad I’m not stopping at home any longer,’ Mary said. ‘One day back’s enough for me.’

  Kate silently agreed. After that, Mary was less complaining and Kate did her best to share the serving in the parlour. But Taylor preferred her behind the bar where she was cheerful and obliging and popular with the customers. She could deal swiftly and firmly with drunks without causing a scene. Taylor was impressed with the way she could humour them and steer them out. Kate kept quiet about the years of practice she had had with her stepfather.

  On New Year’s Eve, the inn was full of revellers and it took little persuasion for Kate to sing to the crowds. Taylor was delighted with the amount of beer drunk that night. As 1904 progressed, he encouraged her to sing whenever custom was slow and word spread of the barmaid’s lusty voice.

  Then, abruptly in February, the third earl died and the estate was plunged into mourning again.

  ‘His Lordship has no heirs,’ Hannah told her when they met up one Sunday. ‘There’s no one to carry on the line.’

  ‘So what will happen?’ Kate asked.

  Hannah shrugged. ‘There’s talk of a cousin coming to live here. But nothing’s certain. And there’s poor Lady Caroline just moved up here and left all alone. Two dowagers and only one Farnacre!’

  ‘Is there any news of Lady Emma?’

  ‘Not a dicky bird. But she’ll have to come back for the funeral, I wouldn’t wonder. Unless she’s found herself a French count.’

  ‘She’s not like that!’ Kate protested. ‘She just likes company.’

  ‘Well, they’ll have to sort out who goes where and who gets what. The place’ll be full of lawyers and land agents again.’

  Kate’s heart leapt. Perhaps Alexander would return.

  ‘Has that Mr Pringle-Davies been back at all?’ She held her breath.

  Hannah shook her head. ‘Not since the summer. I think Lily was right - he must’ve been sweet on the dowager. Maybe he’s out in France with her. It’s the old man Davies who’s been seeing to His Lordship’s business, according to Lily. Mark my words, the young ‘un will turn up like a bad penny once Lady Emma comes home.’

  ‘You shouldn’t speak about them like that,’ Kate reproved.

  ‘And who’s going to hear? Anyway, why you so loyal to Lady Emma when you lost your job at Farnacre?’

  ‘Still hoping if she comes back I might be started on again,’ Kate said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by Mary or the cook.

  ‘Well, who can say?’ Hannah sighed. ‘It’s all a mess.’

  A week later, Kate stood on the hard, frosty ground outside Lamesley church and watched the funeral procession. She peered at the mourners as they descended from their carriages and her heart skipped a beat to see a figure like Lady Ravensworth wrapped in a black velvet cloak step forward. Her face was veiled, but when she saw James Wadsworth help her down, Kate knew it was her. She had come back! Perhaps there would be a chance of returning to Farnacre Hall after all.

  There was no sign of Alexander, and Kate’s feelings were mixed. She had longed to catch sight of him, yet if he was not in attendance then the rumours about him and Lady Ravensworth might not be true. She could not wait to discuss it all with Hannah.

  But to her disappointment, her friend came with the news that Lady Emma had gone away again as soon as the funeral was over.

  ‘Where? Back to France?’ Kate asked in dismay.

  ‘Don’t know; not even Lily can find out.’

  There was much talk at the inn about the dealings at the castle. Agents and lawyers for the two dowagers stayed or called in for refreshment. Their coaches stopped at the inn to water and stable the horses. The earldom was now extinct, but a cousin, Arthur Thomas, and his wife, Sophia, were to inherit the barony of Ravensworth and would be moving into the castle. Lady Caroline was moving into Farnacre, but it was rumoured she wished to retire south.

  Surely Lady Emma would return and claim her home? Kate thought in concern.

  Spring came. Kate took a walk up to Ravensworth to visit her aunt and uncle, and to see the swaying blanket of daffodils lining the drive.

  Passing the gates and ivy-clad walls of Farnacre Hall, she slowed and peered through the iron railings. The shutters were bolted at the downstairs windows and no smoke wafted from the many chimneypots. It looked quite deserted.

  She found Lizzie at her door, in deep conversation with a neighbour. Alfred bounded forward to greet her.

  ‘I’ve got a new mouse - come and see!’

  Kate hugged him and took his hand, greeting the women. As Alfred pulled her past them she asked about Farnacre.

  ‘It looks al
l closed up. Has Lady Caroline gone?’

  ‘Aye,’ Lizzie nodded.

  ‘So Lady Emma’s coming back then?’ She brightened.

  The two women exchanged glances.

  ‘She’ll not come back now,’ the neighbour said with a disapproving frown. ‘I thought you would have heard down at the inn by now.’

  ‘Heard what?’

  Her aunt looked uncomfortable. ‘Not in front of the bairn.’

  ‘Come on, Kate!’ Alfred was impatient.

  ‘You go and fetch the mouse,’ Kate encouraged, ‘while I have a word with your mam.’ He sped off inside. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘Gone and got herself wed, that’s what!’ the neighbour snorted. ‘And her still in mourning for His Lordship. It’s a disgrace.’

  Kate’s heart thudded in alarm. ‘Wed? Never so soon.’

  ‘Aye - and to that upstart,’ the woman complained. ‘The shame of it!’

  Kate felt sick. ‘Who - who’s she married?’

  Her aunt looked agitated as if she could not bring herself to say the name.

  ‘Is it Mr Pringle-Davies?’ Kate asked hoarsely.

  They both gave her a strange look. For a moment no one spoke. Finally the neighbour said, ‘It was no gentleman. ‘Twas that footman James Wadsworth.’

  Kate gawped at them in disbelief. ‘Mr Wadsworth? Never in the world!’

  ‘It’s as true as I’m standing here.’

  Lizzie nodded in agreement.

  Kate threw back her head and laughed in relief. They stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

  ‘It’s nowt to laugh about, hinny,’ Lizzie reproved. ‘It’s a scandal, that’s what it is.’

  Chapter 17

  Alexander returned in the early summer to the uproar of Emma’s swift marriage.

  ‘And to her footman!’ Jeremiah said with scorn. ‘She should still be in widow’s weeds, not taking another husband. And what a husband! What’s the world coming to when the ruling class start marrying their servants? Nobody knows where they stand!’

  Alexander tried to hide his amusement at his father’s ranting, though it came as a shock to him too. Emma married to James Wadsworth, her handsome footman, and he half her age! Like himself, James must be about twenty-eight, no more. He felt a mixture of pique and admiration.

  ‘Where are they living?’

  ‘Not at Ravensworth, that’s for certain,’ Jeremiah spluttered. ‘No, no. They’ve taken some mansion in Newcastle; near Jesmond Dene, I’m told.’ He looked at his tall son in alarm. ‘You’re not to go there.’

  Alexander just smiled. ‘It’ll blow over. The gossips will tire of them and find someone else to prey on.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Jeremiah cleared his throat and returned to the more certain ground of business.

  Alexander spent the first couple of weeks contentedly at home. The long voyage back from South America had left him weak. Stormy weather and bouts of bleeding had confined him to his cabin and sapped him of strength. He had returned leaner, his face gaunt and weather-beaten. Travel had changed him. He had fallen in love with the open pampas of Argentina, a country of strong sunlight and baked hills, where he could ride for days without interruption.

  He had attempted to fall in love with a woman, but his heart had not been in it. Kate Fawcett’s blushing features and easy laughter plagued him, though he knew he was being absurd. Perhaps he had fallen in love with his own drawings and not the real woman at all. For how could he love a simple maid whom he hardly knew? Yet, from the distance of thousands of miles, the rigid class barriers of England did not seem such an obstacle.

  A month went by and he regained his strength. When his father suggested he accompany him on a trip to Ravensworth to meet Lord Thomas, Alexander jumped at the chance.

  The castle seemed to bustle with as much life as ever, he was pleased to see. Lord and Lady Thomas were genial company and entertained them to lunch. But there was no question of him resuming the close family friendship of old. Alexander excused himself and said he needed fresh air.

  ‘His constitution’s not as robust since he’s been away,’ Jeremiah explained. ‘But he’s well enough. Quite able to take up the reins when I retire.’

  Alexander groaned inwardly as he escaped on to the terrace. His father had been talking of retirement ever since his return. And he was pressing him about a betrothal to Polly De Winton once more. He could not evade it for ever.

  It felt so good to be back at Ravensworth. The rhododendrons that Emma loved were in full bloom. He plucked a blossom as he passed, but it fell in a shower at his feet.

  Alexander strolled through the gardens and around the lake, feeling a pang of longing for the previous summer when he had walked in the setting sun with Kate. Someone was fishing out on the water and birdsong filled the warm air, but it felt empty.

  He had no way of knowing if Kate still worked at the castle. There had been so much upheaval in the past months. Perhaps she had gone with Emma and was working for her in Newcastle? Suddenly Alexander was filled with a desire to find out.

  He made excuses not to return with his father to Darlington, insisting he visit their shipping agents on Tyneside.

  ‘I’ll return in a few days,’ he promised.

  ‘You better had,’ Jeremiah warned. ‘We have that theatre and supper party arranged for the De Wintons, remember. You miss that at your peril.’

  It did not take long to find the modern red-brick mansion that Emma and her new husband had taken overlooking the wooded gorge of Jesmond Dene. The couple were out walking when he called, so Alexander waited impatiently in the upstairs drawing room.

  ‘Tell me,’ he asked the maid, who showed him into the light, well-furnished room, ‘does a girl called Kate Fawcett work here?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, sir.’

  Alexander felt a stab of disappointment. ‘Never mind, thank you.’ She curtsied and left.

  Minutes later he heard voices below and went out to greet Emma.

  ‘Alex? This is wonderful!’ She threw out her arms to him as she mounted the stairs.

  ‘Mrs Wadsworth!’ he teased.

  She laughed and they embraced like mother and son.

  ‘How are you?’ She steered him back to the drawing room. ‘You look thinner. Tell me every detail of your South American journey,’ she ordered, ‘right from the beginning. James and I want to hear everything.’

  Alexander glanced behind them and saw her young husband stride in and hold out a hand in greeting. Alexander hesitated a beat then shook it.

  ‘James - it’s good to see you.’

  ‘Sir,’ James grinned.

  ‘You can call him Alexander now, dear,’ Emma said. ‘Remember your position.’

  The men laughed and sat down either side of her. Tea was brought in while Alexander enthused about Argentina and the riding.

  ‘Have you been back to Ravensworth?’ Emma asked abruptly.

  ‘Yes.’ His look was cautious. ‘It’s not the same without you there. Why did you not return to Farnacre?’

  She gave a smile of regret and reached out to hold James’s hand. ‘It would have been too awkward. You know how unkind gossip can be. Better to start afresh somewhere new. We’re thinking of doing some travelling for a while. Perhaps Argentina, if it’s so wonderful. What do you think, dearest?’

  James flushed. ‘Anywhere you choose.’

  Alexander could see his host found the situation awkward and so he declined an invitation to stay for dinner.

  ‘No, I return to Darlington tonight,’ he said, kissing Emma’s hand. ‘Papa is matchmaking for me this week.’

  ‘Polly De Winton, I hope?’

  ‘Why do you hope?’

  ‘Because she’d make you happy. She’s in love with you.’

  ‘How could you possibly know?’ Alexander laughed.

  ‘She was one of the few county friends who dared to send us a message of goodwill on our marriage. Polly’s been a visitor here - she
talked about you a lot.’

  Alexander laughed it off. ‘You must have been stuck for conversation.’

  As he left, he asked as casually as possible, ‘By the way, whatever happened to that singing maid of yours?’

  Emma looked blank.

  ‘Your nightingale?’ he prompted. ‘Kate, I think she was called.’

  ‘Oh, the housemaid.’ Emma remembered. ‘She came with me to Famacre. I suppose she must still be there.’

  ‘The hall is closed up,’ he told her. ‘Caroline returned south.’

  ‘Then I don’t know.’

  James spoke behind them. ‘Do you mean Kate Fawcett?’

  Alexander’s heart jumped. ‘Yes - that could be her name.’

  ‘She has an uncle in the gardens. Spoke to him at the late earl’s funeral. Said Miss Peters sent her and the other maids packing after we left.’

  Why hadn’t he thought of seeking out her Uncle Peter? Although how could he explain his interest in Kate without causing suspicion?

  ‘So she left the estate?’

  ‘Yes. Said something about her working in a public house. Bit of a comedown for a girl like her.’

  She must have gone back to Jarrow, Alexander thought in disappointment. The place was full of drinking houses, as far as he could remember. He hated to think of her there. Was she reduced to serving dockers in some dingy bar, shut away from the fresh air and sunlight? He had an urge to rush to the town and search until he found her, rescue her and take her into his own household.

  ‘Is it important?’ Emma asked.

  ‘No,’ he said quickly.’ She just crossed my mind - with all this talk of Ravensworth.’

  She gave him a curious look as he went.

  How stupid of him even to mention her. He had been harbouring a ridiculous dream all these months. Nothing could ever come of it. Kate was gone and he was never likely to see her again.

  All the way back on the train he felt wretched, but by the time he reached home he had convinced himself that he must put her from his mind. He would do something to please his father for once, and begin to court Polly in earnest.