The Child Left Behind

by Gracie Hart

  ‘That can’t be right, you must be wrong? But he has always warned us about the family. He also shows no pride in you and your business; in fact, he always dismisses it when anyone talks about it. God, if you are right, it’ll kill him if he finds out that William is flaunting Mary-Anne Vasey around Leeds.’ Victoria was either his niece or his sister, depending on whether his brother or his father had sired her.

  ‘It could be that he already knows, and it already nearly has done so. Which would mean that our mother knows it too.’ Grace stood at the bottom of the stairs. ‘It’s what will happen next we have to worry about. Priscilla is nothing like our mother, she can’t stand the rigors of living with our head-strong brother and the shame that he has brought her. As for Mary-Anne Vasey, she’ll do as she pleases of that I’m sure, she’s her own woman.’

  ‘Oh, my Lord. I thought I was the black sheep of this family,’ George whispered.

  ‘You, dear brother, are whiter than white.’ Grace smiled and left a disbelieving George standing alone in the hallway. He’d nothing to worry about except his hangover.

  ‘I could have danced all night, I enjoyed every second.’ Victoria leaned back in her chair and smiled as she ran her silk scarf through her fingers and thought about the dances and the handsome young men that had asked for her hand.

  ‘I did notice that you were enjoying yourself but you weren’t the only one. I suspect your mother will be the main topic of gossip today and for the next few weeks. What she was thinking of I do not know, she could have been more discreet.’ Eliza looked across at her niece. ‘How do you feel that your mother is having a dalliance with William? It must feel strange.’

  ‘I sometimes wish that she was not my mother, especially when she was making it no secret that William is her new lover. I was embarrassed not only for myself but for her. All the women were talking about her and staring. Did you know Aunt Eliza that she was that enthralled by him, and him her, come to that?’ Victoria scowled and crumpled her scarf in her hand.

  ‘I think that initially she was thinking of getting some satisfaction in hurting your father by attracting William and making him her lover. However, I fear that she has been caught up in her own web of deceit by losing her heart to him. The heart is a fickle thing, Victoria, as you will learn when you grow up. You can never control it, no matter how hard you try.’

  ‘I suppose I should be happy for her, but William is married, she is never going to have him as her husband. I’m never going to be a man’s plaything. I will marry the perfect gentleman and will not share him with anyone.’ Victoria remembered the arms of Stephen Sanderson around her waist and his charming smile as he guided her around the dance floor.

  ‘Well now, young lady, you can put your head into a book and do some studies, your French tutor will be here tomorrow and he will expect you to have learnt what he set you last week. I’m going for a walk with Tom. So just stop your daydreaming – you’re a long way off being old enough to take a husband. As long as I know that your mother has not hurt you yet again. She does love you, she just doesn’t think sometimes.’ Eliza kissed her niece on the cheek before walking to the parlour door.

  ‘I know, Aunt. I also know that she only does things that will benefit me but I just want her to be happy and not to always do what she thinks is right for me. She doesn’t know me, not like you. I won’t be too young for ever and I’m well educated and will be my own woman, thanks to you. I can never thank you enough.’ Victoria watched as her aunt fought back a tear before leaving the parlour.

  Victoria sat for a second and recalled her mother’s happy face as she danced and flirted with William Ellershaw. Why did it have to be him? Had she not had enough of the Ellershaw family and their sordid ways? Had she not thought it strange, her courting her daughter’s brother with him already married, and with her own experience of William’s father? Her mother’s lack of morals was not to be applauded, she thought as she picked up her French books. What was the French word for a love triangle, she pondered as that was what her mother was in and she just hoped that she would not get hurt.

  Eliza linked arms with Tom as they walked out on their usual Sunday stroll together. The sun shone down and the warmth of the summer’s day made them both relax as they stood on the railway bridge at the bottom of Pit Lane.

  ‘Do you remember when we first walked here? We were both young and worried in case our parents found out and then you returned home to the terrible news of your mother’s death. I thought then our love was perhaps not meant to be.’ Tom looked at Eliza.

  ‘Do, you still think that, Tom? I couldn’t blame you, what with our Mary-Anne being the talk of the town and you knowing the truth about Victoria. We aren’t the sort of family your mother would want you to be involved with.’ Eliza looked up into Tom’s eyes and saw the love that had always been there for her.

  ‘But they aren’t you, Eliza. I love you and I should have said these words years ago.’ Tom held Eliza’s hands tightly. ‘Marry me, Eliza Wild. Be my wife and then I can always love you. We can build a home together and Victoria can still live with us but we will have one another for ever.’

  ‘Oh, Tom, I love you too. My answer is yes, of course, I would love to be your bride.’ Eliza wiped the tears of joy away from her face, she too had got her man.

  Mary-Anne lay back in the arms of William and gazed at him while he lay sleeping. She noted the greying hairs in his once jet-black hair and the worry lines on his brow, but he was still a handsome man, one that anyone would be proud to be seen with. She thought about the previous evening and how foolish they had both been to cause such a scene. She’d heard the comments from the various well-to-do ladies. It’s always the women that are the worst, she thought as she felt William stir beside her.

  ‘Are you all right, my love?’ She stroked William’s face as he awoke and kissed him on his lips as he held her tight and began to kiss her neck and caress her body.

  He smiled and said nothing, intent on having his way with her again after enjoying a night full of pleasure in the room he had rented above The White Swan. His hands followed the contours of her body and his lips kissed and fondled her breasts.

  ‘No, William, we must return to our homes. Think of Priscilla, she will be worried.’ Mary-Anne looked up at the man that lay on top of her, his smiling face beaming down at her as he tempted her again to be his. ‘I mean it, we shouldn’t, it’s already mid-morning, and Priscilla will be worried.’

  William fell down back beside her and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Damn that woman, I don’t love her. I just need you and your wicked ways. I swear you are a witch and that you’ve entrapped me in your spell. All sense has left me as I know that what you say is right.’

  ‘We must go home. Our exploits will already have given the gossips of Leeds enough fuel to last them all year. Go, and make sure Priscilla is well and we will meet again shortly, my love. I’ll not abandon you, I’m here for as long as you need me.’ Mary-Anne kissed him gently before stirring from his arms and quickly dressing. Even if he was in no hurry to get home, she was. Ma Fletcher was on her own with only her cat for company and she had already missed her breakfast.

  William sat on the edge of the bed and slowly dressed as he watched Mary-Anne make herself presentable before returning to her home. ‘Shall I get you a carriage? You are not exactly dressed for your walk home.’ He placed his watch in his waistcoat pocket before putting his arms around Mary-Anne’s waist, holding her close to him and smiling at their reflection in the dressing table mirror.

  ‘No, I’ll be back home in a few minutes. I’ll be fine.’ Mary-Anne caressed his face and kissed him again before pulling her fur around her. ‘Next Monday?’

  ‘Next Monday at the music hall, I’ll see you there.’ William nuzzled her neck and then let her go as she made for the bedroom door. ‘I’ll be counting the minutes.’

  Mary-Anne blew him a kiss and then made her way out of the room. The landlord and the serving maid smiled and t
ittered as she made her way out of the inn. They all knew who William Ellershaw was, but not the brazen woman who had spent the night with him. She paid them no heed as she walked quickly through the streets of Leeds, ignoring the looks and jibes of those who commented on her dress.

  At the same time that she was worried about getting home to make sure Ma Fletcher was all right, she was thinking of her lover, and also Victoria, who she had hardly spent any time with at the ball, being so intent on securing William’s love if she was to be the scandal of Leeds society. She must go and see her daughter, make sure she was all right, that she had not spoilt her evening and caused too much scandal. She hadn’t realised that she would still be there, another half-hour later and she wouldn’t have been, as Eliza had taken her away from the ball early. She only hoped that no more hurt would be caused between them when she realised why William had to be part of both their lives. Her heavy skirt, delicate shoes and tight bodice impeded her progress as she hastily walked through the cobbled streets, finally turning the corner into Hyde Park Corner. She noticed immediately that the curtains were still drawn at her home but thought nothing of it as she turned the key in the lock and walked into the darkened house.

  ‘I’m home, Ma. Sorry I’m late,’ she shouted as she pulled back the curtains to let light into the still house. The bright morning light filled the room, showing an un-lit fire and the curtains of Ma Fletcher’s private quarters still drawn. ‘Ma, Ma, I’m home.’ Mary-Anne quickly pushed back the curtain and looked down at the grey-haired old woman still asleep in her bed. She went over to her side and shook her gently as Mr Tibbs twined his body around Mary-Anne’s legs. Mary-Anne caught her breath as she realised that her dear old friend was no longer in the world and that she had not been there as she had passed from one world to the next.

  Mary-Anne sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed. ‘I’m sorry, Ma, I’m sorry I left you, I knew you weren’t well. I never should have left you.’

  A pang of guilt came over her. She had been selfish and uncaring and had let her own needs and pride come before anything else. She bent down and picked the demanding cat up and stroked him. She usually had no time for the creature, nor it her, but he was now purring on her knee as if he knew that his mistress had gone and he was going to have to make the best of the one he’d been left with.

  ‘Well, that’s it, Mr Tibbs, we are left with one another. We are both adept at change and using people, perhaps we will show more love and care to the ones we love.’

  Mary-Anne looked around the room and house that had become her home and a fresh sadness swept over her. She reached out for the cold hand of her old friend and whispered ‘God Bless’, then fed Mr Tibbs with the food he was demanding.

  She walked over to the drawer that she knew Ma Fletcher kept her will in. She had been told to go to it upon Ma Fletcher’s death. Nervously she opened the envelope contained within, as she sat on the bed edge next to Ma’s dead body. Her hand shook as she unfolded the document and she read her dear friend’s last wishes. She sobbed as she read each line over and over again. The house, contents and all Ma Fletcher’s money were to be hers on one condition: that she looked after Mr Tibbs until his last days on earth.

  Mary-Anne couldn’t help but smile between the tears and watched as the old cat climbed up onto the bed and made himself known to her yet again. ‘So you are like me too, going to whoever is best for you. We will survive, won’t we, cat? Life has made us hard.’ Mary-Anne stroked the old feline and then glanced around her. She had a home, money and the wealthiest lover in Leeds. She’d come a long way from the thief escaping her life in America. Now she must pay more attention to her daughter Victoria and secure her a future of happiness and not one of hurt and degradation. ‘Life’s just beginning Mr Tibbs, we will both live it well.’

  Acknowledgements

  With grateful thanks to Gillian Green of Ebury Publishing, for having faith in me when others didn’t. Also her wonderful team of editors, copyeditors and all the staff that are involved in the publication and distribution of my books. And as ever my thanks to Judith Murdoch, my agent, for having patience with this lass from Yorkshire.

  Read more heart-warming sagas from Gracie Hart

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  The Girl Who Came From Rags

  When Mary-Anne Wild receives an inheritance from wealthy Ma Fletcher, things finally start to look up for her and daughter Victoria. It seems like she’s finally found happiness after she falls in love with William Ellershaw, despite her past relationship with his father, Edmund.

  But when Edmund dies, leaving the grieving family bankrupt, Mary-Anne is forced to step into the role of mistress of Levensthorpe Hall to support William. And when Eliza and her sweetheart, Tom, decide they want to purchase a home they must also turn to Mary-Anne for help.

  Now her circumstances have changed, can this girl who came from nothing come to the aid of others?

  Coming soon …

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  Epub ISBN: 9781473554818

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  Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing

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  Ebury Press is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © Diane Winn Limited, 2018

  Cover photographs: girl by Gordon Crabb; background © Topfoto

  Cover: www.headdesign.co.uk

  Diane Winn, writing as Gracie Hart, has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  This edition published by Ebury Press in 2019

  First published by Ebury Press in 2018

  www.penguin.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781785038044