A Child of Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  He knew of the doctor coming and going and his father watching anxiously at the end of the bed, but he was too weak to summon up speech. Finally, the bleeding stopped and his head cleared, yet he was gripped by a strange lassitude. He took no interest in the newspapers Jeremiah brought for him to read, or the post that lay unopened by his bedside. There were three letters in Polly’s handwriting.

  ‘She wishes to come and see you; you have matters to resolve,’ his father told him pointedly.

  ‘Not yet,’ Alexander said wearily. How long had he lain here?

  ‘You’re not fit enough to attend the county ball, but the doctor said you were well enough to receive visitors. I’ve sent word to Miss De Winton that she may call tomorrow.’

  ‘You’ve no right!’ Alexander protested, struggling to sit up.

  ‘I’ve every right!’ Jeremiah snapped back. He paced the room. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you these past two weeks, wondering if this time you might not pull through.’ He stopped and glared. ‘You’ve been overdoing it - all this constant to-ing and fro-ing to Newcastle. And what for, eh? That’s what I’ve been asking myself. Not business, as I thought. Going up to town on a Saturday - I should have known! And not staying where you said you were - not at Mrs Timmins’s lodging house, nor even at Mrs Wadsworth’s.’

  ‘You contacted Cousin Emma?’ Alexander croaked incredulously. ‘You’ve been spying on me!’

  ‘You gave me cause to,’ Davies rounded on him. ‘This gave me cause to.’ He strode across the room, yanked open the top drawer of the leather-topped desk and pulled out a mounted picture. He held it aloft, glaring.

  It was the photograph of Kate. Alexander’s head pounded.

  ‘And not just this,’ he shook the print, ‘but it’s the same girl in all these drawings.’ He jabbed a finger at the scatter of sketches on the desk. ‘Is this who’s been keeping you away from home so much?’ his father demanded. ‘Who is she?’

  Alexander coloured furiously. ‘That’s my affair. You had no right to go prying into my possessions.’

  ‘She looks familiar. Pretty enough - but obviously socially inferior. A daughter of some publican, knowing you.’

  ‘Her father was a skilled steelman,’ he defended Kate. ‘Only his early death meant Kate has to work for a living. She has the manners of a lady, and her father was a friend of Cousin Edward’s in Jarrow.’

  ‘She’s from Jarrow? You’ve been back there?’ his father asked in astonishment.

  ‘No. I met her at Ravensworth. She worked for Cousin Emma.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Didn’t your spies tell you? She’s at the Ravensworth Arms.’

  ‘That servant! Now I remember. I thought at the time I knew her.’ He looked hard at his son as realisation dawned. ‘You’ve known her since Lord Ravensworth’s time! She was that maid who nursed you, wasn’t she? How long have you been seeing her? Months? Years!’

  ‘I’m in love with her,’ he announced boldly.

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous.’

  Suddenly Jeremiah sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. ‘Oh, I can see why. You are cursed with a romantic’s heart, this I know.’ His face clouded. ‘But it can’t go on - not once you are betrothed to Polly. I’ll not have this girl spoiling your chances of a good match. We’ll have no scandals in this family like the Wadsworths. You must give her up.’

  ‘I’ll not be told what to do.’ Alexander was indignant. ‘I’m a grown man, for God’s sake!’

  Jeremiah stood up, his stooped body trembling. ‘Then start acting like one.’ He paced again in agitation. ‘I’m doing this for your own good, Alexander. You’ve had your fun, now it’s high time you settled down. When you are well enough you will go to De Winton and ask for Polly’s hand in marriage. I have put off your trip to the Continent until you are fully recovered and in the meantime the question of marriage will be resolved.’

  He made it sound so cut and dried, like a business transaction, dismissing his son’s love for Kate as something so trivial it could be dispensed with in a moment.

  ‘And what if I decide to marry Kate Fawcett?’ Alexander challenged.

  His father did not hesitate. ‘Then I will disown you. You won’t have a penny to live on.’ His face was thunderous.

  Alexander glared back, but he felt too weak to argue. In his wilder moments he imagined himself travelling the world living as an artist, but he knew that he was not good enough. He was dependent on his father’s goodwill. Besides, had Jeremiah not always been fair and generous to him? He was the one person who had given him a home and education and stuck by him all these years. He could not have done more for him had he been his own son.

  Lying there, drained of the will to fight, Alexander saw his love for Kate was futile. He had no right to lead her on in the expectation that anything could come of their friendship. He thought with longing of the last time they had been together, lying in the sheltered circle of the ancient dun. She had curbed his reckless desire, knowing the dangers of an affair. Kate had seen only sorrow would come of it.

  He looked at his father and saw how frail he was, despite his forceful words. He was an old and anxious man. All Jeremiah asked of him was that he do his duty as a respectful son and heir. He bowed his head in submission.

  ‘I’ll talk to Polly tomorrow,’ he said with resignation.

  ***

  By the end of July Alexander and Polly were engaged to be married. The wedding was set for the following spring. His strength regained, Alexander enjoyed some riding up on the moors around the De Wintons’ farm. It was a bleak landscape even in high summer, scarred by lead mines, but it suited his frame of mind.

  Try as he might, he could not rid his thoughts of Kate. Every hilltop and rickle of stones reminded him of their time together. Polly’s angular fair looks and amiable company left him empty. He did not love her, could never love her while Kate existed somewhere else. He was guilty at his lack of feeling, but the thought of years ahead with this woman made him desolate. Alexander rode hard and fast to rid himself of his unhappiness.

  He was relentless in his activity, so he had no time to dwell. He worked, he rode, he filled his evenings with entertainment and fell into bed in the early hours of the morning for a few hours of exhausted sleep. Maybe if he drove himself enough he would not live to see a barren loveless marriage. He lived under the threat of a blood disorder that no one knew how to cure. It spurred him on to be more reckless. Better to live for the moment and die young than live a long and dull life. But, oh, to see Kate one more time!

  Jeremiah worried at his frenzied pace and the dark shadows under his eyes. He knew that his son had not been near Ravensworth in weeks, for he had paid the landlord of the inn to send word if he did. Any business to be done at the estate, Jeremiah had seen to in person. Yet he did not trust Alexander not to do something rash, so he kept ever watchful.

  August came and went and the time drew near for Alexander’s postponed trip to Germany. He told his father with some defiance that he was going to stay a few days with Emma before he sailed.

  ‘She is thinking of going abroad to live. I wish to see her before she goes.’

  ‘Very well,’ Jeremiah agreed. He did not speak of the possibility of his son seeing Kate on his way to Newcastle. Even if he did, little damage could be done at this stage. The marriage to Polly was all arranged and Alexander would sail for Germany by late September and be out of the country for a couple of months.

  Alexander felt his spirits lighten as he travelled north to Tyneside. As the train passed Lamesley he peered for a view of the inn, desperate for a glimpse of Kate. What a fool he was! He had not been near the place in nearly three months; she would have long given up hope that he would keep his promise to come and see her. What must she think of him? He had no right to go seeking her out and expecting her still
to be waiting for him.

  He resisted the strong urge to jump off the train there and then. At Newcastle station he hailed a cab and went directly to the Wadsworths’ town house. That evening they went to the theatre, but afterwards, over a nightcap, he poured out his troubles to his old patron.

  ‘Go and see her,’ Emma encouraged, ‘if only to explain your new circumstances to the girl. She deserves that at least. It would be better that she knows of your betrothal, rather than to wonder for years what happened to you.’

  Alexander flushed in shame. He had thought too little of how Kate must have been hurt by his disappearance. Or was she just angry? He would never know unless he faced her and told her the truth.

  ‘Sometimes, I have these mad thoughts,’ he confessed with a bleak laugh, ‘of eloping with Kate. Running away together and saying to hell with propriety! Like you and James—’

  He stopped abruptly at the look of displeasure on her face.

  ‘There was nothing improper in our marriage. I was widowed, remember, not betrothed to another.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... It’s just you didn’t let social convention stand in your way.’

  ‘I could afford to do so.’ Emma was frank. ‘I’m a rich woman. I didn’t need to bow to petty-minded snobbery.’ She reached out and patted his arm. ‘It’s different for you, dear Alex. You are not rich. If you turn your back on your father and insult the De Wintons you will be an outcast. Are you prepared to live a life of uncertainty, maybe poverty? Is Kate?’ She gazed at him searchingly. ‘I thought after your childhood that what you would crave most would be security, stability. Polly will give you that.’

  Alexander swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat. He could not tell her that what he craved above all was to love and be loved. Kate was the only woman he had ever known who loved him deeply and completely for who he was. But even Emma, who had followed her heart, did not think he should throw away everything for the sake of love.

  ‘Then I will go and say goodbye,’ he said quietly, feeling the weight of resignation press down on him once more.

  Chapter 24

  Kate was busy serving in the taproom when he strode in. He looked straight at her as if she should be expecting him, yet his smile was unsure. She gasped as if someone had winded her, her fair face flooding with colour.

  Bram Taylor bowled across the room and cut him off from the bar. ‘Good day to you, sir. Is it a meal you’re after? It’s quiet in the parlour. I’ll have Mary lay a table for you.’

  ‘I’m quite happy in here, thank you. It’s Kate I came to see.’

  The landlord appeared flustered and Kate looked away in consternation. Others were glancing round with interest.

  What was he doing here after all this time? How could he waltz in and demand to speak to her after he’d put her through weeks of anxiety, then disappointment? Anger bubbled up inside. Yet she could not help but look at him. His face was so gaunt, his eyes dark-ringed - that face she had yearned to see these past desolate weeks that had kept her sleepless in the dead of night.

  ‘Then perhaps you’d like to take a seat outside in the courtyard, sir. I’ll get the lass to bring you out a glass of beer.’ Taylor did not want a scene in his bar. Whatever the young gentleman had to say could be said in private, dismayed though he was to see him back again.

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that.’ Alexander smiled, and followed him through the bar out into the sheltered yard where a couple of weather-beaten trestle tables and benches stood. It smelt strongly of the stables, but that made him feel more at ease.

  He sat waiting for Kate, his heart pounding and his nerve beginning to fail.

  Then she was there, with her quick loping walk and her scent of violets. He looked up into her smooth oval face, the large enquiring blue eyes, and knew in an instant he was still hopelessly in love.

  ‘Kate!’ He stood up and reached out. But she stood her distance, clutching the glass of ale.

  ‘Sir,’ she murmured. The word made his heart heavy. He had destroyed her trust.

  ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word. I don’t blame you for hating me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you,’ she said quietly, ‘surely you know that?’

  ‘But I’ve disappointed you. Please, Kate, sit with me a moment. I need to explain.’

  She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder.

  ‘Just for a minute,’ he pleaded. ‘Taylor won’t mind.’

  He took the beer from her, gestured at the bench and they both sat down. Kate thrust her hands in her lap to stop them shaking.

  ‘I’ve been ill again,’ he began.

  She looked at him in alarm. ‘The bleeding?’

  He nodded. ‘I was bed-bound for a couple of weeks or more.’

  Her face broke into a smile of relief. ‘I knew it! I knew there was a reason. I said as much to Mary - he’s ill and has no way of telling me. But now you’re better! You are better, aren’t you?’

  Alexander wanted to kiss her there and then for her concern. He had expected scorn. But, oh, this made it so much harder to tell her why he had come!

  ‘I am better,’ he admitted, glancing away. ‘But that’s not the only reason I have not been to see you.’

  ‘Oh? Not more bad news, is it? Your father’s not sick?’

  His heart twisted to hear her worry. If only she knew how much Jeremiah was against her. He did not deserve her concern.

  ‘No.’ He turned to look at her, steeling himself for what he must say.

  ‘Then what?’ She put out a hand and touched his arm. ‘Tell me, Alexander.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘I - I’ve come to say goodbye. I am engaged to another woman. It’s an arranged match - not of my choosing - but I am bound by it now.’

  Kate felt punched in the stomach. For a moment she thought she had him back again, but it was all an illusion.

  ‘I see,’ she whispered, drawing back.

  Alexander felt wretched at her crest-fallen look. ‘No you don’t!’ He seized her hands. ‘It’s been forced on me - a business arrangement of my father’s. I don’t love this woman - it’s you I love, Kate! But my father knows about you. He’ll never allow us to marry, never.’

  ‘Marry?’ Kate said the word so softly he hardly heard it. ‘No, of course he wouldn’t.’

  ‘What can I do, Kate?’ he asked in despair.

  She pulled her hands away. ‘Do?’ Her voice shook. ‘You know what you’ve got to do! Marry your lady friend, that’s what. I was daft to think it could be otherwise!’ She sprang up.

  ‘Kate, I’m sorry.’ He tried to stop her, but she brushed past him and fled into the inn.

  She forced back tears as she stumbled into the gloom of the passageway. Mary was there. She must have been watching from one of the windows.

  ‘Trouble back again?’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ Kate said bitterly. ‘He’s gettin’ wed.’

  The next moment she was sobbing into Mary’s shoulder.

  ‘Forget about him,’ her sister said brusquely. ‘It was never meant to be more than a bit o’ fun.’

  ‘It was to me!’

  ‘You’re too soft,’ Mary said, pulling away and thrusting a handkerchief at her sister. ‘Too romantic for your own good. You’ll be better off without him calling round and putting fancy ideas in your head.’

  Kate blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She must not make a spectacle of herself in front of the landlord and his customers.

  Somehow she forced herself to smile and carry on working for the rest of the day. Thankfully, Alexander left without reappearing in the taproom, his beer untouched on the table.

  But she could not stop thinking about him and what he had said. He loved her still. He had even talked of marriage, as if it might have bee
n a possibility. If this other woman did not exist; if his father had not disapproved of her so much. How dare the old man judge her when he did not know her? Yet it was no surprise. She had been foolish even to dream of marrying so far above her.

  Kate tossed in her attic bed, plagued by her thoughts, hot and sticky in the muggy air. The next day she was tired and listless, struggling through her chores, her mind elsewhere. Mary tried to chivvy her up and Taylor complained at her slapdash work, but neither could shake her out of her misery.

  Three days later, after Kate and Mary had gone last to bed, she was woken from shallow sleep by a noise. She sat up in the dark. It came again: a pebble thrown up against the skylight. Slipping out of bed, Kate stood on a stool and peered out of the high window. She could see nothing below. Just about to close it again, she heard a man’s voice.

  ‘Kate? Kate! Come down,’ he hissed.

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, a figure detached itself from the shadows and stood in the moonlight. It was Alexander!

  She did not stop to think. In an instant she was pulling on her work dress over the petticoat she slept in and, grabbing her boots in her hands, tiptoed out of the room. As quietly as she could, she climbed down the creaking stairs, unbolted the kitchen door and ran barefoot across the stable yard to where he waited beyond.

  ‘Kate!’ he cried in relief as she fell into his arms.

  ‘You came back!’ she whispered in exultation. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

  ‘I’ve been in hell,’ he groaned, clutching her to him. ‘Come away with me, Kate.’

  He steered her out of the yard.

  ‘But where can we go?’

  ‘Anywhere - just so we can be alone together.’

  Kate thrust on her boots and they began to walk in the moonlight, arms linked around each other. Somehow, in the quiet magic of the night, the differences between them melted into the dark, the opposition to their love seemed trivial. At first their walk seemed aimless as they made their way out of Lamesley, but both seemed drawn towards the wooded secrecy of the path into the Ravensworth estate.