by Gracie Hart
‘Oh, be quiet woman, it’s you and yours that make me drink. I’ve no peace from your wittering and demanding ways. I can’t even have an hour’s peace in my own home.’
‘My father will be turning in his grave at your behaviour. He would never have acted that way. To think I could have had anyone in the county, but it was you I wed.’ Catherine stifled a cry.
‘Here we go again, “my father” this, “my father” that – and when it comes to wedding anyone else, well, you should have kept your legs closed and then we would both have been free to do what we wanted.’ Edmund scowled at his angry wife. ‘The old bastard never left you any money though, did he? Not even a brass farthing.’
‘Don’t forget, he did buy us this house and most of the things in it.’ Catherine’s eyes flashed in defiance. ‘You know why he gave it to our children, he knew you would only spend it on womanising, gambling and drinking. And he was right. It was best our children inherited his money, it sets them up in the world. Just look at our William and Grace, I am so proud of them both.’
Edmund sat back in his chair and looked at her. ‘I notice you don’t mention bloody George in that list! Just look at this bloody bill he expects me to pay for him looking like a dandy. Ten guineas, woman, you could buy half of bloody Yorkshire for the price of one of his suits. And he doesn’t need them; all he does is walk around Woodlesford and Rothwell with his fancy friends. None of them have done a day’s work between them. They should do a day down the pit, make them into proper men.’ Edmund threw the bill at Catherine and watched as she read it.
‘A proper man like you, do you mean? Heaven help us if he turned into anything like you. I’m glad he has pride in his appearance, it means he will attract the right sort of woman when he decides to settle down.’ Catherine put the bill back on the desk and turned to leave her husband in his dark mood. ‘Lunch will not be ready for another half hour. I hope you don’t bring that manner to the table. Leave the bills, my father would not approve of you doing business on a Sunday and as it is you missed chapel. My father used to say no good deal was ever made on a Sunday,’ Catherine said as a parting shot.
‘Then your father was a bloody hypocrite – I bet he did many a deal on a Sunday for sure.’
Edmund drained the last drop of port from his glass as he looked at his workload on his desk. He’d have to try and make some sense of the debt that was starting to pile up. He’d see the bank manager next week, but for now, another drink was in order.
Grace Ellershaw smiled across at her brother, deciding to break the awkward silence that had fallen upon Sunday lunch.
‘Are you coming with me to see Eliza and Victoria, George? Eliza has invited me for tea, I’m sure she would not mind you attending also?’ Grace smiled at her brother, knowing full well what his answer would be.
‘That would be delightful, sister. I will indeed.’ George didn’t look up, knowing his father would not approve, but their father didn’t seem to be listening.
‘Mind you are not discussing business, which would never do on a Sunday. Not that they know owt about business.’ Edmund glanced at his wife as he helped himself to mashed swede from the tureen that the butler was holding patiently at his elbow.
Catherine glared at him and then smiled at her daughter and son. ‘I still find it amazing that someone from Eliza’s background has such a good eye for fashion. To think that she used to work in that terrible ramshackle shed and looked so ragged. She has a lot to thank you for, Grace.’ Catherine politely bit into her roast beef and watched as Grace smiled.
‘She works hard, Mother. Really, it is I who should be thanking her. She is such a good seamstress, she just needed the backing and some faith in her and then the rest was easy. What she should be really proud of is the way that she has raised her sister’s child, Victoria. She is turning into the perfect young lady – intelligent, pretty and so well mannered,’ Grace looked across at her brother, knowing that Victoria was his protégé and his indulgence in taking pity on the working class.
‘You can’t make silk purses out of sows’ ears, and that’s what that family is. Least you have to do with them the better, especially that young lass, it says something that her own mother abandoned her. Keep it to business and don’t go associating yourselves outside of working hours. And you,’ he pointed his knife at George for emphasis, ‘Keep away from that Victoria, as she’s called, she’s still a pup and God only knows who her father was.’ Edmund had his suspicions that the bastard of a girl was his, but could not very well admit it to his family.
‘Father, you are such a snob!’ His son replied with a laugh. ‘Does it really matter that they have come from nothing? After all, you are a self-made man, so I don’t agree with your statement. Eliza and her daughter are good people, and they make both Grace and myself welcome in their home. As for looking at Victoria in that way, she is, as you say, far too young and even if she was of an age, I would not have the inclination to do so.’
‘Aye, that’s the home that Grace here was daft enough to help her buy. You keep away from that family. Don’t get led astray by the aunt or her pretty child. Find another woman who can satisfy your needs. After all, you’ve spent enough on the clothes that you are swaggering about in. Spend a few pence on a whore, satisfy your needs and then, when it’s time for you to wed, you need to find yourself a woman with plenty of money. One that can support you and your expensive tastes so I don’t have to!’ Edmund stabbed his meat and felt gratified to see the looks of disgust on his children’s faces.
‘Edmund, really. Can you for once not bring your filthy talk to the table, especially on Sunday? George, do not listen to your father. However, you could do with looking a bit higher in society, I must admit. You will be a man of wealth, shortly, when you come of age, and one day the Rose will be yours and the pit at Wakefield. You are a good catch for the right young lady.’ Catherine smiled at her son, who was the apple of her eye.
‘I don’t aim to die just yet. And if you think that pit at Wakefield is worth owt you are sadly mistaken. The first chance I get to sell that worthless piece of shit the better. I was duped.’ Edmund despaired of his family. They knew nothing between them, cosseted in their perfect worlds, with no idea what he was going through.
‘Father, I hope that your death is quite a few years away, yet,’ Grace said with a smile, ‘and I’m sure that you will make some use of the pit at Wakefield. Surely it must have some value?’ She had noticed that her father was even more abrupt than usual and wondered if his worries ran deeper than he would admit to his family.
‘It is worth nowt to nobody.’ Edmund scowled. He had decided to help a friend out of a financial embarrassment with the purchase of his pit at what he thought a reasonable price, believing every word he was told about the pit having good yields of black gold, only to find it was worthless and to end up short of money himself. Damn the lying bastard.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, it must be a disappointment.’ Grace looked at both of her parents. She felt more sympathy for her mother than her father; it was she who would have to pay in the long run, dealing with her father’s anger over being conned into a bad deal.
‘Aye, well, I’ll have to make the best of it. The Rose is still profitable, so I should be thankful for that.’ Edmund wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back. ‘Time you started to contribute to the family coffers, George. Come and spend some time with your father and learn the ways of the pit and how to work it. Get your hands mucky for once.’
‘You don’t have to, darling,’ Catherine reassured her son. ‘I know that you have no interest in mining. You’ll find your way in the world just like your older brother. You are more intelligent than your father. A thinker, not a doer.’
‘Stop pampering him,’ Edmund snapped. ‘Let him become a man, will you, Catherine.’
‘Father, I’ll be honest, I have no interest in the pit. But if you wish me to join you there one day, I will.’ George knew his father thought him a wastrel.
Perhaps he was correct, because as far as going down the pit, it would be a cold day in hell before he would get him to do that.
Grace knew that there was going to be yet another family argument, and checked the time on the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Will you excuse me? I don’t think I will wait for pudding. I’m afraid I have been a bit of a glutton and eaten too much beef. I’ll take my walk now.’ She rose from the table and glanced at George.
‘I’ll join you, sister. I must not get too portly, else my tailor will scold me.’ George pushed his chair back and joined his sister as they quickly made their way out of the dining room. Their father used their departure as an opportunity to swear once more and argue with his wife about making cuts in the household budget.
‘Just listen to them. Father is getting worse and Mother just lets him rant and rail,’ Grace whispered, reaching for her mantle and hat from the hall stand.
‘Well, she doesn’t want to make him worse. She’s happy as long as the house is still standing. After all, it’s all she’s got left of her inheritance, Father has made sure of that.’ George pulled on his gloves and picked up his swagger stick. ‘I’ll visit Eliza and Victoria with you. Despite what father says, they’re better company than we’ll find here.’ George grinned. ‘And they’re both a lot prettier than dear papa too!’
‘You behave yourself, George,’ His sister chided gently. ‘You don’t want to become like Father – you know how the servants gossip about his … roving eye.’
George smiled at the polite way Grace expressed herself but shook his head vehemently. ‘Don’t ever liken me to him. I’m ashamed at times to say he is my father, he is so uncouth. And as far as Victoria goes, she’s such a sweet little thing, a poppet. I like her company, that’s all.’ George closed the door behind them both.
‘Yes, but he is our father and you’d do well to show him a little more respect, at least to his face. You know your devil-may-care attitude angers him.’
‘Well, he should respect us too, especially Mother. He’d have been nothing without her. He tends to forget that.’ George sighed. ‘In all honesty, I hate the man.’
‘Then do something with your life and be independent,’ Grace said. ‘I’ve made my own business, surely you can do the same.’
‘I will one day, sister, but don’t forget I’ve yet to receive my inheritance. But let us go and visit your working-class friends. I hope there will be cake, as we have both foregone pudding to save any arguments.’
George grinned again and stepped out with his sister on his arm. It was a miserable grey day but he felt warm inside with the thoughts of Eliza and Victoria and their cosy and inviting home and the promise of cake and friendship awaiting them.
Chapter 8
‘Oh, Lord, Victoria, I’ve forgotten we have Grace and perhaps her brother George visiting this afternoon. Now, remember, don’t say anything about your mother being here. She doesn’t want anybody to know just yet.’ Eliza looked around her parlour in horror as she plumped the cushions up and quickly rearranged the flowers. ‘Hopefully, she will hear their voices and will stay in her room.’
Victoria sighed. ‘I wish I could tell everyone. I’ve been waiting for her to come home all my life and now that she’s here I want to tell the world.’
‘You can one day. She has her reasons for keeping her return a secret. Knowing your mother, she must be hatching some sort of a plan. What do you think of her? Is she what you expected?’ Eliza saw the slight hesitation on her niece’s face.
‘She’s very beautiful and glamorous but she doesn’t half talk funny.’ Victoria looked at her aunt, whom she felt more love towards than her true mother.
‘That’s because she picked up the accent from living over there in America for the past twelve years. She is glamorous, isn’t she? She used to always turn heads, did our Mary-Anne.’ Eliza looked around her. ‘Now why did I give our maid Sunday off? I knew we had visitors.’
‘We’ll manage. I’ll make the tea and I noticed Betty has a cake already made in the pantry. That will make George happy, he’s got such a sweet tooth.’ Victoria smiled.
‘You mean he’s sweet on you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you.’ Eliza looked at her niece’s flushed cheeks. ‘I don’t wish to spoil things for you, but I don’t think you should encourage his attention. You are far too young and he should know better. It may be only puppy-love on your part, and I’m sure George is just indulging you because of your age, but your mother hates his father, she will not be happy that his son is so taken with you.’
‘I wouldn’t say that he’s taken with me, Aunt Eliza, he’s just very kind and I do find him most interesting. He knows so much and he makes me laugh and I’ve known him a long time, so we are just friends.’
‘Well, his father is definitely not a gentleman, so I’m hoping that George does not take after him. He may have status in the community but he is also known for his many transgressions. The man is a disgrace. Even Grace is ashamed of him. She hears the gossip and knows that most of it is true. I don’t think her brother William is much better – poor Priscilla Evesham should never have married him. When it comes to the Ellershaw family, Grace is the only one to be trusted, believe me.’
Victoria knew her aunt really did dislike her business partner’s family and yet she owed so much to Grace. Surely they couldn’t be that bad? She made her way to the window and pulled the heavy velvet drapes back to sneak a look out at the street, just in time to see the brother and sister making their way along the path to their door. ‘Aunt Eliza, they are here! They are about to ring the doorbell.’ Victoria blushed as George tipped his hat to her as he spotted her looking out of the window.
‘Now remember to behave yourself, Victoria. Try not to encourage him by being silly.’ Eliza brushed down her long skirt and gently patted her blonde plaited bun into place. ‘And no giggling. We don’t want them to think I’m raising a brainless idiot.’ Eliza took a breath before opening the front door. She was annoyed with herself for giving their maid of all work the day off. Grace and George would never stoop so low as to open the door to their guests.
‘Grace, George, I am so glad that you could join us for tea. The weather is quite depressing and I have stupidly given our maid the day off to allow her to visit her parents this afternoon, leaving me to open the door to you. Please do come in and join Victoria in the parlour.’ Eliza kissed Grace on her cheeks and hesitated before doing the same to George after he took off his top hat and placed it on the hall stand along with his cane.
‘These servants, I find, demand more and more time off. I know Mama is always complaining about the days they expect to have off. One Sunday a month is quite sufficient to keep in touch with their families. Otherwise, they are spoilt, and will only expect more.’ George looked sternly at Eliza, waiting as his sister untied her bonnet and handed it and her mantle to Eliza. He held out his hand to Grace and led her out of the hallway and into the small parlour.
‘George, you are hard.’ Grace smiled at her brother. ‘What if you saw our dear mama only once a month? You would not be able to be torn from her that long.’
‘Maybe not my mother, but in the case of my father, a month would soon fly. In fact, a visit every six months would be too often, given his current ill temper.’ George knew that his father and he would never see eye to eye and, quite frankly, he was ashamed of the bluff northerner.
‘George, he only does what he thinks is best for you. Now, enough of our family. We are here to enjoy tea and not bring a mood into the house.’ Grace walked into the highly decorated parlour and held her hands out to Victoria. ‘I swear, Victoria, you get prettier by the minute. Just look at you, in that beautiful green dress, a perfect picture.’ Grace kissed Victoria and turned to look at her brother. ‘What do you think, George? Is she not a perfect picture?’
‘Indeed she is, sister. Miss Wild is a delight to the eye.’ George took Victoria’s hand, kissed it, then smiled at her with a knowing twinkle
in his eye.
Victoria blushed again, trying not to make eye contact with the charming George.
Eliza hesitated in the parlour doorway, and glanced towards the stairs. Mary-Anne, hiding on the landing, was listening to every word said by the visitors.
‘I take it that the dress is one of your aunt’s creations, Victoria? She knows just how to make the most of a girl’s colouring. I marvel at her skills,’ Grace said as Eliza joined her visitors.
‘You think too highly of me, Grace. Victoria is a perfect model, anything would suit her.’ Eliza looked across at Victoria and smiled. ‘Victoria, dear, would you be good enough to make the tea and serve it to us all?’
‘Of course, Aunt.’ Victoria rose from her seat.
‘May I help you, Miss Wild?’ George stood up, smiling at the sweet girl whose clear worship of him was amusing.
‘I can manage, thank you, George. Everything is laid out, I’ve just to brew the tea and serve it. But thank you for your offer.’ Victoria quickly made her way out of the parlour, thankful to get away from George’s teasing, but craving it as well.
Mary-Anne leaned over the banister and caught Victoria’s attention as she closed the parlour door behind her. ‘Is that Grace Ellershaw that’s in there?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, Mama, and her brother George. Are you coming down to meet them? I’m sure they would like to make your acquaintance.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to have any part of their lives. George, her brother, you say. He was only young when I left. He sounds like his father, God help him.’
Mary-Anne gathered her thoughts quickly. So, the youngest Ellershaw lad was of marriageable age. He’d be a good catch for someone as long as he wasn’t too much like his old man. From what she’d overheard he was friendly with Victoria, something that really should not be encouraged, after all, he was her half-brother. Though perhaps it was a relationship that could be profitable to her daughter, something to encourage – a way, perhaps, of getting back some of the things that Edmund Ellershaw, her daughter’s father, owed her. She leaned over the banister once more. ‘Victoria,’ she whispered.
