by Gracie Hart
‘Oh, Mother, poor John Vasey, I knew he looked heartbroken. George scoffed at me taking pity on him, but he looked so lost.’ Victoria held her tears back for the man that she hardly knew, feeling slightly guilty that perhaps if she had not given the address of her mother, he may still be alive. ‘I’m sorry if you think that I have shown you any disrespect, I don’t mean to. I must admit, I’m finding it hard as Aunt Eliza has always been there for me and I feel that I no longer know what to feel now you are here in the flesh.’
Most of the time, Victoria felt no love towards her mother. She had wanted to meet her for so long, but now that she had, she didn’t feel the connection to her that she had expected. Her love was for her Aunt Eliza, not the woman that sat across from her, and who seemed to think that she should be welcomed with open arms.
‘It will take time, Victoria, for us to get to know one another. We will take it slow, share our time together when we can. You remind me of myself at your age: you are stubborn and know your own mind. Which is sometimes a good thing. Now, you said you were with George Ellershaw when you spoke to John? I do wish that he would keep his distance from you.’ Mary-Anne noticed a blush rise to her daughter’s cheeks.
‘I don’t know why he takes so much interest in me. Aunt Eliza says that he regards me as his pet. I did think he was wonderful once, but no longer – he thinks too much of himself. Aunt Eliza has told me to keep him at arm’s length and that’s what I do.’ Victoria, embarrassed by her confession, looked out of the window.
‘When I first arrived, I thought that his affections towards you were to be encouraged. Now I think it is best that you should not see so much of him. The men of his family are to be avoided, their morals are not of the highest standard as I’m sure your aunt may have told you.’
Mary-Anne smiled at her daughter. Time would bind them together and she aimed to spend a lot of time with her daughter now she was back home.
‘Now, what are you about today? Embroidery? Do you enjoy sewing? Eliza will be hoping that you will join her in the shop one day, I suppose. Myself, I hope for you to set your sights higher, marry a man high up in society. You have all the skills, education and manners to secure one, in good time, of course.’
‘Aunt Eliza wants the same thing, in fact, she is making me a new ball gown to introduce me to society at the Guild Ball. She says it is the place to be seen, although I am only allowed to stay an hour as I am really too young.’ Victoria looked coyly at her mother.
‘Quite right, but do you have tickets for the ball? They are sent out only to the few that the Guild think worthy of attending.’
‘Oh, yes, Aunt Eliza has been invited for the last few years, however this year she said we can both attend.’
‘Do you think I could ask for you to show me your invitation? I’ve heard so much about the ball, it is such an honour for you both to be asked to attend.’
‘Of course, Mother. Aunt Eliza will have them on the top of her desk, I’ll go and get them for you from the room next door.’ Victoria smiled at the excitement on her mother’s face and left the room to retrieve the coveted tickets.
While Mary-Anne waited for her daughter to return, she looked around her sister’s parlour. While the furnishings were plush and expensive, and while Mary-Anne had seen the high esteem Eliza was held in by her staff and customers, the true sign of having come up in the world was an invitation to attend the Guild Ball, and Eliza had been invited. Her sister’s life now was a million miles away from Pit Lane and buying the second-hand rags from Ma Fletcher’s stall, where they both had started out.
‘Here, Mother, aren’t they a delight? The lettering is always in gold, they look so expensive.’ Victoria passed the gold embossed cards over to Mary-Anne and sat across from her, watching her reading every word.
‘Well, I never thought I’d hold one of these in my hands. Your aunt should be proud of herself, and yes, you go and enjoy yourself while you’re too young to get into trouble. You are about to start the best years of your life, but believe me, those years are fleeting. Especially when you are married and have responsibilities.’ Mary-Anne held the cards with care in her hands. She noted that the invitations did not show the recipient’s name upon them. She tried not to let her excitement show on her face when she passed the cards back to Victoria, instead she swallowed hard as if to suppress a cough but then started to splutter and cough harder.
‘Mother, are you all right? Would you like a drink of water?’ Victoria stood up and placed the invitations safely upon the marble fireplace.
‘Thank you, my dear. I don’t quite know what is wrong with me. Perhaps the air in this room is a little too dry for me. After all, you do have a blazing fire lit and it is quite a fine day.’ Mary-Anne smiled when Victoria left the room and gratefully took a sip of water from the glass her daughter handed her when she returned.
‘Would you like me to open the window for you, in order to let some fresh air into the room?’
‘Don’t worry, my dear.’ Mary-Anne rose from her chair. ‘I’m going to have to go now. I can’t leave Ma Fletcher too long, she has become rather dependant on me. Now, will you come and have tea with me at my home? Or should we meet in a tearoom and then we could visit your aunt and you can show me this dress that you are going to stun society in?’
‘I’ll come to your home, Mother. Aunt Eliza has told me so much about Ma Fletcher and the days that you used to buy clothes from her. I’d like to meet her, I think.’ Victoria hesitated, thinking about the tales of how rough and ready Aunt Eliza had told her Ma Fletcher was and wondered if she should have agreed to visit her.
‘Ma Fletcher’s bark is worse than her bite. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by her home. I couldn’t believe that she had such a lovely house and it is sparkling like a new penny now, thanks to my elbow grease. Do come, I would like for her to meet you.’ Mary-Anne placed her hat upon her head as she passed the hallway mirror, securing it with the pearl-handled hatpin, and smiled at her reflection. ‘Perhaps Monday next week?’
‘I will then, Mother. Monday, next week, and then we can still go and see Aunt Eliza in the store. My dress should be finished by then and I can try it on for you.’ Victoria opened the front door for her mother, who kissed her on both cheeks and made her way down the scrubbed-clean sandstone steps.
‘Until next week then, Victoria. I’ll look forward to seeing you. You know where Speakers’ Corner is, don’t you?’ Mary-Anne pulled the iron garden gate open and waited for a reply.
‘Yes, Mother, I know Speakers’ Corner. I’ll ask my aunt if I can bring a cake.’ She watched as her mother bustled down the street, her auburn hair shining from beneath her jaunty hat and her skirts billowing in the soft spring breeze. Her aunt was right: Mary-Anne had the looks while her aunt had the brains. Victoria’s only hope was that she had been blessed with both – and as for inheriting any of her father’s traits, she would never know. As she turned to close the door she remembered poor John Vasey. Perhaps she was partly responsible for his death as her mother said.
‘You are a terribly wicked woman, Mary-Anne Vasey. How could you steal from your own daughter? Your sister will soon put one and one together when she cottons on to when it went missing.’ Ma Fletcher looked at Mary-Anne’s precious prize, stolen from under her daughter’s own nose.
‘I couldn’t resist. Besides, our Eliza will be able to get another invitation. She’s obviously thought a lot of in the society she keeps.’ Mary-Anne smiled as she looked at the gilt-edged card. This was her way into the Guild Ball and the chance to flaunt herself in front of William Ellershaw.
‘And there was me thinking that your visit to see your Victoria was to win her around. She’s not going to think a lot of you when she discovers you’ve stolen the invitation to her first ball.’ Ma Fletcher shook her head. Sometimes the lass had no sense.
‘She’ll never know. Eliza won’t tell her, she’s got more sense than to do that. Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for balls
when Victoria is grown up.’ Mary-Anne placed the invitation safely in the top drawer of the chest that held Ma Fletcher’s valued documents. ‘Now, what am I going to wear? Should I ask our Eliza to make me something or is that pushing our love of one another a bit too far?’
‘Brazen, that’s what you are. If you’ve any sense you’ll not even think of it. But if you must, go and look in that far room upstairs, the one with the locked trunks. You’ll find the keys to them in those drawers. I’m sure there will be something in one of them that’ll take your fancy. You might have to alter and titivate it to your style and fitting, but that’s no hardship for you. You were always a fair seamstress even if your sister was more handy with her designs. The clothes up in those trunks came from Rothwell Hall, my old man had an understanding with the butler there. A few pence and he got all Lady Armstrong’s cast-offs. Some of those dresses will be worth a small fortune – you’ll look the part in one of them.’ Ma Fletcher sat back in her chair and watched a smile on Mary-Anne’s face grow into a grin.
‘What would I do without you, Ma? You are my saviour.’ Mary-Anne opened the top drawer and searched for the keys to the trunks, finding them behind numerous paid bills and other documents that hadn’t been sorted for years. She smiled as she made her way across the stone-flagged floor and up the creaking oak stairs to the top bedrooms.
‘I suppose I’ll have to wait for my supper?’ Ma Fletcher yelled up after her, but never got a reply as she heard the floorboards above her head creak with Mary-Anne’s weight walking over them. She’d have to wait at least an hour, she thought as she closed her eyes and imagined Mary-Anne’s delight on finding the expensive garments that had been put away for safe keeping and a future purpose. That purpose was now here and Mary-Anne would be one of the best-dressed women in Leeds, if they both had their way.
Mary-Anne walked into the back bedroom that she had cleared and cleaned. She had wondered at the time what was inside the two locked trunks that she had struggled to move when she had swept the floor clear of dust and cobwebs. It was early evening, and she pulled back the curtains to let more light into the darkening bedroom. The clothes inside must be precious, she thought, fumbling with the locks in eagerness to see what lay within.
When she opened the lid, she was not disappointed as layers of the most expensive clothes lay inside, waiting to be worn and shown off to their best advantage. Green silks, blue taffeta, red velvets all embellished with the best Nottingham lace and finest ribbons. Mary-Anne couldn’t believe it as she pulled all the dresses out, laying them out on the oak boards of the bedroom floor before opening the second trunk. It was filled with fine day clothes, plainer in colour but very well made and timeless in design. Mary-Anne sat among the clothes and luggage holding a long, red velvet dress to her waist. This was the one. If she was going to play the scarlet lady, she might as well be dressed the part when she made her entrance at the Guild Ball. She gazed around her in disbelief of the amount of clothes spread about her and the sheer beauty of them.
Just before she rose to her feet, she noticed right at the bottom of one of the trunks a pair of baby’s booties and a silver rattle wrapped up lovingly in tissue paper. They seemed at odds with the elegant ball gowns and finery. What were they doing there? Ma Fletcher had no children, yet there they were carefully preserved along with the rest of the clothes. She’d ask Ma Fletcher whose they were when she went back downstairs, but for now, she must go and see herself in her wardrobe mirror. She ran into her bedroom, holding the red dress to her and pulling out the long exotic skirt to its full width, and admired herself in her wardrobe mirror. How could anyone not admire me in this dress, she thought. William Ellershaw would have to be blind and stupid not to notice her, and she knew he was neither. This was the dress: a tuck here and a tuck there and it would be perfect.
Mary-Anne sat beside Ma Fletcher’s bed, waiting until she had finished her hot milk before going to sleep. The baby clothes had been playing on her mind since she had found them.
‘Ma, when I was going through the trunks I came across a rattle and some booties. I just wondered whose they were. The little booties are so lovely.’
The old woman’s eyes filled with tears and pain. ‘I’d nearly forgotten about them being there. They are the only things I have left of my bonny lad, Charlie. My bonny lad that was killed, murdered by the bastard Ellershaw. I’ve never told you this before, but Edmund Ellershaw ran his horse over my only son when he was playing in the street. He could see him as clear as day but he still galloped his horse right into him, shouting, “Get out of my way, you vermin” and then laughed as my little boy was stamped on and tangled around his horse’s hooves. Left him for dead, he did. Charlie weren’t even four but he didn’t give a damn. Ellershaw tried to make things right and calm the gossip about him by giving me a sovereign, but I wouldn’t take it. When it came up under the magistrate’s court, the big wigs took his side, they didn’t dare do any other, saying I was an uncaring mother, letting my child play in the street at such a young age. He is the scum of the earth – a cold-hearted bastard – and before I depart this mortal coil, I hope to see him rot in hell.’ Ma Fletcher stifled a sob. ‘We have a lot in common when it comes to Edmund Ellershaw. He took my child away from me and he gave you one you didn’t want. I can never forgive him. I still awake of a night, screaming as I did when I ran out of the house to see my lad lying like a rag doll, dead in the street. And he, with his posh friends in high places, was never held accountable for his actions. He lied when he said my lad ran out straight in front of him. The bastard.’ Ma Fletcher sat back in her bed, wiped tears from her eyes and sniffed hard.
‘I didn’t know that you had lost a child, and under such terrible circumstances, I’m so sorry for you.’ Mary-Anne put her arms around the old woman. ‘How could he gallop his horse over a child?’
‘Life is cheap to him. How many people have been maimed or killed in his pits? Your father among them. And William’s father-in-law is no better, the children that were harmed and left limbless because of his woollen mills must number in the hundreds. Life is nothing to those sort of men; money and profit is everything.’ Ma Fletcher breathed in deeply and leaned back in her bed to sleep. ‘Now, lass, leave me be, this old woman’s ready to sleep. At least I forget my troubles when I’m in the land of nod.’
Mary-Anne kissed Ma on her forehead and watched her furrowed brow become smooth in sleep. So, that was why she had taken pity on Mary-Anne’s plight. They were both victims of that uncaring bastard Edmund Ellershaw.
Chapter 19
William Ellershaw blended into the shadows of the ginnel that led off Speakers’ Corner. This was the most convenient spot for him to watch the comings and goings of Mary-Anne Vasey. He’d spied on the house for an evening or two, waiting to see if she had any gentlemen callers in her new home or if she was all alone in the house. Up to now, he’d seen nobody, so, taking a long draw on his cigar, he decided to make himself known to Mrs Vasey. From what he could see, she was still as beautiful; even more so now she was so elegantly dressed. God, he’d been a fool not to treat her with a bit more care. She’d always had more brains than his simple wife and he should have known that. He’d regretted her slipping through his fingers from the minute he had married Priscilla but all was not yet lost. Perhaps her going to America and him building himself up in business had to happen before he realised what he wanted in life.
He threw down his cigar and stamped the glowing embers out with his foot before walking across the cobbled road. He hesitated for a second before opening the garden gate and knocking on the door, and his stomach churned as he waited for a reply. What was wrong with him? She was only a woman, a woman who had been penniless a few years ago. Perhaps if he had had his way with her then, he would have forgotten her by now. Standing on the step, he felt like an errant schoolboy, worrying over how to explain his calling on her at this late hour.
Mary-Anne sat contently, altering the red velvet dress she had set her heart
on wearing for the Guild Ball. She smiled to herself as she added a tight tuck to the bodice. She was intent on showing her curves off to one and all. She might not be wealthy, but her figure and her looks had always helped her when it came to turning heads.
From behind the curtains, Ma Fletcher snored like a stuffed pig. While Ma had been a surprising benefactor to Mary-Anne, since she’d reappeared in her life, Ma had steadily improved. She was no longer the lost soul who depended on Benjamin Jubb and the likes to keep her fed. As long as Ma kept her part of the deal, Mary-Anne would be happy. After all, what more could she want for? She was fed, warm, with a roof over her head and had all the fine clothes she needed. It was up to her which way her life went from now on.
She went back to concentrating on her alterations, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. The knock was so loud it stopped Ma Fletcher from snoring and Mary-Anne heard her turn over in her bed and mumble something to herself. She placed her mending down by her side and went to see who it was calling so late.
She slid back the bolt and opened the door to find a tall gentleman, finely dressed with a cape and top hat with a walking cane in his hand, his back was turned to her as if he wasn’t expecting her to open the door to his knock.
‘Yes, may I help you?’ The stranger turned to face her and she caught sight of his features in the dim gaslight.
‘I do apologise, I know I’m calling late, but Grace told me you had returned to Leeds, and since I was in the area I thought that I would call and make myself known to you once again.’ William saw the shocked expression on Mary-Anne’s face, he looked down at his shoes and tapped his cane. Now that he was face to face with his quarry, he felt a little embarrassed at calling on her at such an hour. He’d also lied about who had told him of Mary-Anne’s arrival back to Leeds, but in the circumstances, it didn’t seem right to mention his wife. ‘I’m sorry, I can leave if you wish, I’d totally understand.’
