For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  ‘None o’ your business!’ rallied Amy.

  The menfolk rolled their eyes at each other and decided to stay well clear of this female disagreement. Besides, Patrick would not know one brooch from another.

  Thomasin stepped closer to Amy and thrust the words into her face. ‘It goes without saying, Miss Forsdyke, that you are no longer in my employ and as such are not beholden to answer my questions. However,’ her eyes narrowed, ‘if you choose not to answer mine, perhaps you will be more pliable when the Constable arrives.’ Any involvement with the police was the furthest thing from Thomasin’s mind, but Amy was not to know that.

  The maid paled but stood her ground and her voice, though it trembled, bore a degree of victory. ‘All right, then, call the police, I dare yer!’ She chanced a smirk as Thomasin’s confident expression faded slightly. ‘Just what d’yer think they’ll do? I’ll tell yer: they’ll laugh their bloody heads off. An’ shall I tell yer why?’

  Despite her failed bluff Thomasin retained her composure. Tm sure you will delight in it.’

  ‘Too bloody right I will! I’m sick to death o’ you pushin’ me about, actin’ like you’re Lady Muck. It’s about time that someone cut you down to size. I’ll tell yer who gimme that brooch, Mrs High an’ Mighty, it were your bloody son, so if anybody’s a thief, he is!’

  Patrick threw aside the book. ‘I think if my son’s to be accused he should be present. Thomasin, go tell Dickie to come down.’ The damning thought occurred to him that without any name being mentioned he had known that it was his elder son who was the culprit. When Dickie made his entrance he summed up the situation in one glance and prepared himself for the onslaught. How could they think he would stoop to something so low as stealing his grandmother’s brooch? Didn’t Amy have more opportunity than he did to steal it when she was making the beds?

  ‘Why, you lyin’ little swine!’ Amy went for him. ‘You gave it to me. An’ what about all that other stuff?’

  ‘What other stuff?’ asked Patrick.

  ‘The stuff that’s been buyin’ his way into my bed for the past year! Aye, I thought that’d make yer prick yer ears up!’ She nodded at Hannah. ‘Look at her! Eyes like organ-stops.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ interjected Patrick heatedly. ‘Dickie, what have you to say on this?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what she’s talkin’ about,’ his son protested. Amy was furious. ‘Oh, I’m supposed to’ve imagined all them necklaces an’ bracelets, am I? Was I also supposed to’ve imagined the fella that kept bouncin’ on top o’ me?’ Hannah’s bosom heaved and she collapsed into a chair. William sat with mouth agape.

  ‘Would you care to show us these … gifts, Amy?’ said Thomasin, but it wasn’t an invitation.

  Amy looked dubiously at the others. She’d really landed herself in it, hadn’t she? She must’ve been mad not to see it … Nevertheless she was forced to bring them the articles – several brooches, two necklaces, a ring and a bracelet.

  ‘I see,’ Thomasin nodded, then said to her son, ‘So, your deception doesn’t merely extend to your grandmother, Richard.’

  ‘They’re yours, Tommy?’ asked Patrick.

  ‘Every one.’ Thomasin had a jewellery box in which she kept her favourite ornaments. The ones here being a mite too heavy for her tastes had been stored away in a separate box in her wardrobe – at least they had been when last she had looked.

  ‘So …’ Patrick turned back to his son. ‘Are ye going to tell us that Amy’s lying about these also, Richard?’

  Dickie toured a philosophical eye around the hostile assembly, then said equably, ‘Ah, ’tis true in part what she says, I did give her the things – but ’twas her leading me on, saying she’d be nice to me if I brought her presents. Ye know how hard it is for a young fella to resist temptation, Dad. There was no malice intended in my taking them. Mam never used half o’ that jewellery, never even missed it …’

  ‘So ye thought your grandmother wouldn’t miss it either,’ interrupted Patrick.

  Dickie looked suitably hurt. ‘It wasn’t a case of her not noticing. Amy said she’d tell about all the other things if I didn’t get it for her, she knew they were Mother’s. I’m sorry Grandma, but I was frightened.’ His face was contrite but the sidelong glance he gave Amy was far from it.

  ‘That wasn’t the way it was at all!’ yelled Amy. ‘I thought he’d bought ’em.’

  ‘Where would I get the money to buy things like that?’ asked Dickie injuredly.

  ‘That’s true, you must’ve known, Amy,’ said Thomasin sternly.

  ‘D’yer think I’d be bloody soft enough to wear ’em if I knew they were stolen?’ shouted Amy. ‘I do know one thing, though – I was bloody stupid to think he’d bought ’em when all the time he’s tellin’ me what a tight cow you are.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Patrick stared at his son then. ‘May God forgive me for choosing to believe the word of this trollop before …’

  ‘Oy, just a minute!’ objected Amy, and was silenced.

  ‘As I was saying, may God forgive me for choosing to believe the word of a trollop before that of my son, but I do. Your conduct in the last two or three years has left me in no doubt that what she accuses ye of is completely feasible. There’s no depth to which ye wouldn’t stoop if ye thought it’d better your position.’ He looked hard at his son for a full minute longer, then spun away in disgust and the room was heavy with his silent anger. ‘Very well, Amy,’ he said at last in disciplined tones, ‘despite the fact that my son has apportioned blame to you, I find myself forced to exonerate you in the theft of the jewellery.’

  ‘Dad, I …’ Dickie was silenced by a glare.

  ‘However,’ went on Patrick as Amy’s shoulders gave way in relief, ‘neither your behaviour with my son nor the manner in which ye spoke to my wife will be condoned. Whatever your grievances she’s still your employer and as such deserves respect.’

  ‘Respect – her?’ flung Amy.

  ‘I must warn ye not to proceed on this tack,’ said Patrick coldly. ‘Ye’ve been cleared of stealing the jewellery but should ye mouth one more insult about my wife then I should find no remorse in fetching the police and having ye questioned on the matter of several items of food and linen which have persistently gone astray since you entered my employ. We’ve been very fair with you, Amy and this is how ye repay us.’ Amy lost some of her bluster as Patrick concluded, ‘Ye will leave the room now and go pack your bags as quickly as ye can. When ye come down you’ll be given a month’s wages in lieu and will then depart this house for good. Go now.’

  Fifteen tempestuous minutes elapsed before Amy, plus luggage, stood once more in front of him. Patrick handed over the envelope containing her wages. ‘Ye may wish to count it.’ When she shook her head and pocketed the envelope he went on, ‘I trust that every item in your case is accountable for?’

  Her lips, until now bloodless with compression, parted. ‘You’ve got all the things he gimme,’ she spat. ‘An’ don’t be sayin’ they’re not all there ’cause if I know him he’ll’ve whipped a hell of a lot more than he’s given me.’

  Here Thomasin stepped forth and took great pleasure in her spiteful retort. ‘Don’t worry yourself on that account, Amy. To retrieve those items we will just have to consult with his other harlots.’

  If looks could kill there would have been mass murder committed in that room. As it was, Amy turned on her heel and flounced out, her only satisfaction coming in a violent slam of the outer door.

  * * *

  Night fell. The beds had not yet been returned to their normal positions and Sonny was still forced to sleep in his brother’s room. Dickie sighed heavily into the darkness and revolved his head in the direction of his brother’s bed. ‘Are ye awake, Son?’

  There was no answer. He had not expected one. He propped himself up and peered at the lumpy shape beneath the blankets. A strand of light escaped the closed curtains and illuminated a sprig of Sonny’s hair, setting the pillow a-flame. ‘Son, pl
ease talk to me. You’re the only one that matters to me. I’m really in the shit with all the others.’

  ‘And what makes you think you smell any sweeter here?’ came the muttered reply. He was doing his damnedest to push Agatha from his head; there seemed no point entertaining idle dreams now.

  ‘Ah, God love him he’s talkin’ to me!’ Dickie laughed his relief. ‘Have ye got over your mulligrubs?’

  Sonny let out a noisy exhalation and rolled onto his back. His character would not allow him to keep up this adverse silence any longer. ‘I can see I’m not going to be allowed to sleep until I listen to your prattling.’

  ‘I’ll not keep ye, Son. I just wanted to make peace with ye. I’d hate us to fall out over a woman – an’ a plain-lookin’ one at that. Jaze, I’ve seen better-looking pigs.’

  ‘If Agatha was so abhorrent to you then why did you have to press your unwelcome suit?’ enquired Sonny acidly. ‘And before you speak I can provide the answer. You did it because you supposed I was fond of her and you couldn’t bear the thought of me having a girl that you haven’t had first.’

  ‘Ye’ve got it all wrong, Son,’ pleaded Dickie. ‘I can’t even answer myself why I did it. It doesn’t seem to matter what they look like, I just have to try. I don’t know what it is about me …’

  ‘I think you do and I think I got it right the first time,’ insisted Sonny.

  ‘Aw, Son – don’t let’s fall out over a silly thing like this.’

  ‘Silly!’ breathed Sonny forcefully. ‘You don’t seem to realise that besides insulting Agatha you’ve disgraced me in front of my schoolfriend. I don’t have to face Agatha but I do him. You’ve ruined my whole life! He imagines that we’re a bunch of clods …’

  ‘If y’ask me ’tis him who’s the clod,’ remarked Dickie. ‘An’ after the way he looked down his nose at ye I’m surprised ye want to go back there an’ share a room with him.’

  ‘I’m not going back,’ Sonny revealed.

  Dickie became alert. ‘You’re staying with me?’

  ‘Shit to you. I’m just not going back, that’s all. I decided yesterday. You’re right in part of what you say, he was a false friend – but don’t think that excuses your behaviour, you were bloody detestable. Anyway … it was almost my last year there. I’ve learnt pretty much all I need to know. Now that Erin’s gone her own way Mam’s going to need my help, ’cause I don’t forsee her getting it from any other quarter. I don’t think Dad’ll put up any objections after what happened with Rupert. So … it looks as though I’m here to stay.’

  Dickie let his head drop to the pillow and snuggled his arms under the covers, trying to see his brother’s face in the gloom. ‘I’m glad you’re stayin’, Son,’ he said, with nary a hint of guile, then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Part Three

  1871 – 1872

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Thomasin, though sad that Sonny felt unable to return to college, was greatly obliged for his help in running the store. The course he had taken in Commerce proved a great boon. Together they went through the books and devised new ways of improving an already flourishing industry. The workmen had just finished knocking down the dividing wall between this shop and the one next door. By next Christmas the plans she had outlined to Erin should be a reality. And now that the wall was down and the choking dust dispersed she could reopen the store.

  One of the plans already implemented came not from Thomasin’s brain but her father’s. William had for a long time felt the need to retire, but like most men of his years and status was unable to afford to do this. Undoubtedly, his other daughters would have contributed to his unkeep, if only to salve their consciences for the infrequency of their visits, but William wanted none of their gratuities; not even from his favourite daughter, whose proposed endowment had been politely, but firmly turned down. He didn’t want to be a burden on anybody. He was a man accustomed to earning his own daily bread and would continue to do so until his body gave out.

  But with his daughter’s exciting concepts for the new store it came to him that there was a way round this. William had worked in the cocoa and coffee trade since coming to York half a lifetime ago; he could be a financial asset to Thomasin whilst solving his own need to take things a little easier. He put forward the idea that she should install a coffee roaster, of which he would be in charge, and produce their own blend of coffee.

  ‘I could pass on all my knowledge to Sonny,’ he said eagerly. ‘Then he’ll be able to do it when I’m gone. Oh, come on, Tommy! Don’t let me down. It’s the answer to an owd man’s prayer.’

  ‘You never said a prayer in your life!’ But she laughed at his earnestness. ‘Well, if we do put one in it’ll be somewhere out of the way at the back of the store. I don’t want your fruity language drifting in while I’m serving the ladies from the convent – you’ll lose me all my custom.’

  ‘Yer mean I can have one? Oh, champion!’

  And that had been the start of his new career. It had been arranged that William should confine his roastings to the mornings thereby halving the twelve hours that he presently worked at the factory. He had had a few qualms about leaving his employers – they were good men and he would be setting up in a kind of opposition – but characteristically they had wished him luck in his venture and voiced their gratitude for the loyal service he had given them. There had also been a collection amongst his workmates which had resulted in William being presented with a plaque to commemorate his stay there, an unprecedented action and one which reduced this normally bluff fellow to tears.

  Thomasin had been instructed that the coffee roaster would take four weeks to deliver, to which she had promptly retorted that if it did not arrive within a fortnight she would not be requiring it at all. Now, a fortnight later, here it stood in an area specially designated for it, begging to be stoked with wood and aching to churn out pounds and pounds of freshly-roasted coffee.

  The woman watched her father put Sonny through the whole procedure of roasting coffee beans, rambling on about blending and tasting, and smiled felicitously. For a long time she had been trying to persuade him to retire – the pains he kept getting in his chest worried her, though William himself made light of them – but the stubborn old goat had constantly refused her ‘charity’. And now the installation of this simple piece of equipment had done what she had been unable to do; lend him a sense of self-esteem for the remaining years of his life. Just look at him, she smiled, one would never dream he’s in his seventies the way he’s acting over that roaster. He’s like a child with a toy train. So full of… here she laughed aloud at herself; she had been about to say beans. Likely they would all be inundated with blasted beans if her father’s over-enthusiasm was allowed to run riot. She moved her smiling face onto her son’s, whence an immediate frown took its place. Sonny, though trying valiantly to conceal it, was quite clearly bored by the entire business.

  She stared at him for a while longer as thought took over. It seemed they had all been assuming far too much of Sonny. Father had assumed that his grandson would find as much enjoyment as he did in his trade. She herself had taken it for granted that the boy was happy working beside her – well, he had never given her any indication to the contrary. It was high time she and her son had a talk. Making some excuse to her father she left him clucking over his new toy and dragged Sonny over to the far side of the store.

  ‘Sit down a minute, son,’ she indicated a wooden crate. He studied her with mild surprise but did as she told him. She sat on the adjacent crate. ‘I was watching you just now when your grandfather was showing you the ropes – you’re not happy with all this, are you?’

  He lowered his face so that she wouldn’t see the truth. ‘I’m not complaining, am I?’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re a good lad, better than I deserve I sometimes think. Is it what happened with Agatha that’s still bothering you? I think you were very fond of her, weren’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Still, I’
ll get over it. I usually do.’

  She curled tapered fingers round his shoulder and gripped him affectionately. ‘Eh, son you’ve had a rough deal out of all this haven’t you? You get sent away to a college where you don’t really want to go. Then your brother upskells all that, like he upskells everything, and you find yourself stuck here with your old mother. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?’

  His grey eyes were solemn. ‘And who would help you here if not me? Erin’s gone now and I doubt Grandad will be concerned with anything other than his coffee beans.’

  ‘Aye, he’s right taken up with that, isn’t he?’ she chuckled. ‘But I can always hire an apprentice, you know. We’re not exactly penniless.’

  He shook his head, somewhat apathetically. ‘And what would I do then? Anyway, if a fella can’t help his own mother …’

  ‘How’s that painting lark of yours these days?’ she asked unexpectedly.

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t seem to get much time for it now.’ The store opened at seven o’clock in the morning and closed twelve hours later. What time was there left for painting? Only Sunday, and that was mostly eaten up by Mass.

  ‘Would you like to?’ The question startled him. ‘What I mean, Sonny, is that back there with your grandfather I was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that we’re all doing something we enjoy – all except you. Me with my shop, your father with his land, Dickie … well, Dickie’s another matter, but Erin has her Sam. What have we left you with? Nothing. It’s a bite late in the day for such exposures I’ll admit, but I realise now you’re not cut out for this work, even though I do appreciate your business acumen. You weren’t at college long, but you certainly didn’t waste your time there.’ She patted him, then her hand left his shoulder to rest in her lap. ‘I’m going to make a deal with you.’ He watched her alertly. ‘You can help me get this new store together and keep the place well-stocked, give me a bit of assistance with the book-keeping, and I’ll give you the afternoons to spend doing your painting.’