by Linda Sole
‘I did and I do want to wed you, lass – but I want you to be sure. You need to know what you’re letting yourself in for. It’s not a life of ease and luxury I’m offering.’
‘It can’t be worse than I’ve got at home. I’m in the yard milking and feeding the stock morning and night, and in between I’ve to help Ma with washing and cooking for the eight of us. I reckon it will be a holiday at your house.’
Tom hadn’t given Mary Jane’s reasons for wanting to wed him a thought, taking for granted that she fancied him. Now he understood that perhaps she went deeper than he’d believed. As the eldest girl in a family of five boys and three girls, she would have to work hard. None of her brothers were married yet and that meant a mountain of washing and a lot of meals to be served.
‘Well, as long as you know what to expect,’ he said. ‘I can’t afford to take a week off but there’s a train to Hunstanton on Saturday evenings. I’ll telephone from the post office when I go into the market next week and book two nights at a hotel. We’ll come back on Tuesday in time for the evening milking. I was thinking that maybe your Sarah would help Ma out while we’re away. I’ll pay her two shillings a day.’
‘Sarah would jump at the chance to earn some money but I’m not sure my ma can spare her. Can’t your Carrie do a bit more to help out?’
‘She’s capable of doing the work, but as soon as Ma turns her back she’ll be out the door and away across the fields for hours on end. Ask your ma if Sarah can help; if not I’ll have to look for someone else.’
‘All right.’ Mary Jane reached up and kissed him. ‘You’re a lovely man, Tom Blake. I never expected a honeymoon at a hotel.’
‘You’re a pretty girl and I like you.’ Tom kissed her back. ‘I reckon we’ll do all right together. So I’ll see the vicar tomorrow and call on your parents on the way home.’
‘You can stay for tea and tell Ma that you’re taking me away for a honeymoon.’ Mary Jane looked pleased with herself. ‘I don’t know of any other girl that went for a honeymoon round here – except for Roz Thornton.’
‘Do you know Miss Thornton?’
‘She visits the vicar’s wife with things for folk what can’t manage on what they earn, and sometimes she gives pretty clothes to the church jumble sale. If I get there first I can find a bargain because I’m good with my needle.’
‘She gave our Carrie some stuff. Ma sent her away but Carrie went after her.’
‘Ma and me sometimes do a bit of sewing for Lady Thornton. She told Ma she’d had a letter from Mrs Rushden and she says Paris is wonderful. She’s buying so many new clothes and she told her ma to give away everything she’d left at the dower house so there’ll be some bargains going at the bazaar.’
Tom felt his stomach lurch. The idea of Mary Jane wearing Roz’s old clothes made him angry, though he hadn’t minded Carrie doing the same thing.
‘I don’t want you wearing her things. I’ll buy some material in the market and you can make something new for yourself.’
Mary Jane gave a little scream of delight and hugged him. ‘Our Sarah will be green with envy. She fancied you herself but I told her she’d have to find someone else because you’re mine.’
Tom pulled her hands away. ‘Don’t strangle me. I’ve got work to do. Tell your ma I’ll be there tomorrow at three, after I speak to the vicar.’
Tom heard the shouting as he walked into the kitchen that evening. Carrie was sitting on the sofa holding her baby and crooning a song to herself.
Tom went to the bottom of the stairs and listened. His father was yelling something unintelligible at Ellen, who by the sound of her was trying to quieten him.
‘I’d better go up and see to him,’ Tom said but Carrie wasn’t listening.
As Tom entered the bedroom, he saw his father strike out with his right fist, catching a blow on the side of his wife’s head as she tried to wipe the spittle and vomit from his face.
‘Now then, Pa,’ Tom said and drew his mother out of the way. ‘Ma is only trying to help you.’
His father babbled something that sounded like gibberish. Tom caught the stink of vomit and something more. His father had soiled himself again and that meant stripping the bed and him.
‘I’ve been trying to clean him up,’ Ellen said. ‘It isn’t right that you should have this mess to see to when you get in, Tom.’
‘I’m used to mucking out the stock. It’s no trouble to me, though what you’ll do while I’m away I don’t know.’
‘I’ll fetch the clean sheets,’ Ellen said. ‘If he won’t let me help him he’ll lie in his own filth until you get back.’
As she left the room Tom’s father grabbed his arm and muttered something. The words were jumbled up but Tom thought he was asking where he was going.
‘I’m marrying Mary Jane Forrest. I’ve told you, Pa. We’ll be going away from the Saturday night until Tuesday evening. I’ve arranged for a girl to help Ma in the kitchen and I’ve taken on a man in the yard because I can’t manage everything alone.’
John seemed to become even more agitated and Tom sighed inwardly as he rolled his father to one side and pulled the sheets out from under him. He washed his father, placed the fresh sheets beneath him and then lifted him higher in the bed so that he was comfortable.
John was in visible distress. He kept repeating something over and over but the words didn’t make sense.
‘Slow down and then maybe I’ll understand. Are you worried about the farm while I’m away?’ John shook his head. ‘We can afford to employ another man. I’m going to buy a few more acres and keep some of the calves this year. I want two more cows and we’ll rear our own bullocks.’
John moved his head negatively, a tear sliding down his cheek. ‘Don’t leave me with . . .’
His first words were slurred but recognizable, though the rest of the sentence degenerated into gibberish.
‘Are you asking me not to leave you with Ma?’
His father nodded and spoke rapidly, leaving Tom none the wiser.
‘Why don’t you want to be alone with Ma – you can’t think she would hurt you?’
His father nodded, his words slurred but clear enough. ‘Hates me . . . wants me dead.’
‘That’s nonsense, Pa. I know what you said but I know it isn’t true. I know you quarrel a lot but she would never harm you.’
John lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. His whole demeanour told Tom that he had shut off and gone into himself.
Tom gathered the soiled sheets, taking them downstairs to the kitchen and through into the scullery. There was a fire under the copper and the water was already hot. He pushed the linen into the soapy water and put the lid on, pausing to wash his hands before going into the kitchen. Ellen and Carrie were seated and dinner was on the table.
‘I’ve put yours in the oven to keep warm,’ Ellen said. ‘We’ll have to think of wrapping him in rags, Tom. I might manage to pull them from under him and they can be burned rather than washed.’
‘It might work while I’m away.’ Tom fetched his dinner and sat down. ‘What have you been saying to him, Ma? Why does he think you want him dead?’
‘What makes you think he does?’
‘His speech is slurred but sometimes I can understand a few words. He says you hate him and want him dead – you don’t, do you?’
‘Sometimes I do, but I’ve never told him that. I’m tired, Tom. Worn out with years of nothing but work to look forward to – and your pa would try the patience of a saint.’
‘Sorry, Ma. I know how hard you’ve always worked and it has been worse since Dick . . .’ He glanced at Carrie, who was pushing her food around the plate. ‘What’s wrong with that, Carrie?’
‘Squire’s back,’ she said, a dreamy smile on her lips. ‘He didn’t see me but I saw him. He was riding near the stream. That’s Pa’s land, isn’t it, Tom?’
‘Yes, that’s our land, Carrie. I wonder what he’s after.’
‘Does she mean the o
ld squire’s son?’ Ellen frowned. ‘Is he back from his wedding trip, then?’
‘I expect so. I hope he doesn’t offer me money for the land again, because I’ve got my own plans and it doesn’t include selling to him.’
‘I suppose he’s rich now he’s got his wife’s money.’
‘We aren’t going to sell and that’s it – especially to him.’
‘Farming is hard work, Tom. You like horses. You could keep the house and sell the land. You might buy a livery stable with the money.’
‘Pa would never agree to sell.’
‘You know what the doctor told us. If he has another stroke he could die.’
‘He isn’t dead yet. Besides, I’ll be master here then because Pa has left the land to me. He made his will years ago and it was for Dick and me, but now it will be mine. You’ll always have a home here, Ma – but I’m not selling, especially to Thornton.’
‘You get more like your pa all the time.’ Ellen took a mouthful of pie. She chewed for a moment, then: ‘I thought you were different, had more ambition, but you can’t see any further than the end of your nose.’
Tom ignored her and ate his supper. Things would be better once he was married. Ellen would have company and help in the house. He might even be able to give her a little holiday somewhere.
‘Has Pa eaten anything today?’
‘He refused the broth I made for him but he drank some warmed ale. It’s all he seems to want.’
‘I’ll take him some bread and milk up in a minute.’ Carrie had left most of her supper and was drifting towards the door. ‘Where do you think you’re going, miss? You can help Ma with the washing up. I mean it, Carrie.’
His sister stopped in her tracks then came back to the sink and plunged her hands into the soapy water.
Tom got up and started to break bread into a bowl. He heated some milk over the fire and poured it over the bread, adding a few precious spoons of sugar.
‘And that’s a waste,’ Ellen said as he set the bowl on a tray. ‘Just watch he doesn’t tip the lot over the bed.’
Nine
‘I’ve never seen you look so elegant.’ Lady Thornton stood back to admire her daughter’s expensive ensemble. ‘She is lovelier than ever, Harry. I can see you’ve been spoiling her.’
‘My wife deserves spoiling, and she pays for it,’ he said, his gaze going over Roz. ‘She does me credit, do you not think so, Mama?’
‘She is as fine as any London society lady. Paris must have been a wonderful experience for you both.’
‘I shall leave you alone together,’ Harry said. ‘Ask your mama to stay for dinner this evening, dearest. I am sure she would enjoy the company. We shall be entertaining extensively, Mama, and we shall expect you to visit often.’
He nodded to Lady Thornton and went out. Roz indicated that her mother should sit and took a chair opposite her. Harry had given such a good performance that she could only follow his lead.
‘You look well, Mama. Have you seen Philip since he returned?’
‘Julia invited me to dinner. She came down to the dower house to make certain I have all I need. Your brother has not visited me. Julia says he is busy. He has thoughts of buying more land.’
‘Philip is thoughtless like most men. I dare say Julia will be glad of your company. She may wish to ask your advice about managing the house.’
‘I do not think so. She seems very capable and the servants mind her more than they ever did me. Philip may not know it but she has a knack of getting her own way.’
‘Yes, I think she does. Have you settled to life at the dower, Mama?’
‘It is strange to visit the hall and know it is not my home, but I suppose I must be thankful to have you settled near enough to visit often.’ Lady Thornton’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Are you happy, Roz? Your letters were full of the delights of Paris but you said little of yourself.’
‘What is there to say? You can see for yourself that Harry has been generous. We visited the palace of Versailles, various museums and some beautiful gardens in Paris, but most of our time was spent with friends we made.’
‘You made some nice friends? Were they French or English?’
‘Sir Raymond Jenson is English and his wife Madeline is French. Harry spent some evenings in the gaming rooms but I preferred to stay at the hotel and read.’
‘Indeed? I am not sure I approve. I would not have taken Harry Rushden for a gambler. He always seems such a hard-working man.’
‘Harry is wealthy enough to spend what he wishes on gambling. I did not interfere with his pleasure in Paris. Nor shall I in future, Mama.’
‘If he gambles his fortune away you may regret not taking an interest before.’
‘Harry may do exactly as he pleases,’ Roz said and rang the bell. ‘We shall have some tea, Mama – and then I shall take you upstairs and show you the gifts I brought for you. I had an evening gown made to fit you. Since Harry invited you to stay for dinner you may wish to wear it this evening.’
Roz took off her pearl earrings and placed them on the dressing table. She was brushing her hair when the adjoining door opened and Harry entered.
‘Did you want something, Harry?’
‘I seem to have misplaced a box of collar studs I purchased in Paris. They have not been mixed up with your things, Roz?’
‘No, I do not believe so. I will look for them tomorrow.’ She waited, certain that he had come for more than some collar studs. ‘Mama was very pleased with the gifts we brought. You were generous to her, Harry, and she appreciates it.’
‘Your mama deserves the respect I would expect to show my wife’s mother.’ Harry’s tone had reverted to its usual coldness. ‘I came to tell you that I invited Madeline and Raymond to visit us next week.’
‘Next week? We have only just left them in Paris. Surely there are other friends you might prefer to have visit?’
‘I know you dislike Raymond, but I won too much from him in Paris. I must give him the chance to retrieve his losses – besides, they amuse me. You may invite your friends to visit when you choose.’
‘I dare say I might invite Julia and Philip – and Mama, of course. There is no one else I particularly wish to see.’
‘I enjoy good company and entertaining. I want you to give a dinner party next week. Since you have no particular friends, I shall provide you with a list of people to invite.’
‘I shall do my best to please you and your friends, Harry. I am perfectly willing to receive guests whenever you wish.’
‘I didn’t buy you all those expensive clothes to leave them in the closet. We shall entertain and visit our friends, and we may go to London for a week or two. With any luck we shall be invited to a few weekends in the country. I may hold a shooting party here later in the year.’
‘Of course. Papa enjoyed hunting and shooting. We often had house parties in the autumn and winter.’
‘Your mama would have a list of his friends, I dare say. I intend to mix with the best, Roz, and you can help me if you try. Your father’s name still counts for something despite the scandal.’
‘Is that why you married me? Because you had ambitions to move up in society?’ She’d thought he loved her but if he cared he would surely have forgiven her by now.
He took a step towards her, anger in his eyes as he towered over her.
‘You know damned well why I married you, Roz, but since you turned out to be frigid I might as well take what I can from this sham marriage.’
‘You are the one who makes the rules, Harry. I have not locked my door against you. If you wish to come to my bed I shall not turn you away.’
‘You’ll just lie there like a martyr being condemned to the stake,’ he said in a bitter tone. ‘I’ll not beg for favours, Roz. In Paris there were plenty of ladies willing to oblige me – and I dare say there are one or two in Wisbech who might welcome the chance to have a gentleman caller.’
Roz turned away and sat down at her dressing table, pic
king up her hairbrush. In Paris he’d stayed out late most nights. She’d known he was gambling recklessly at the tables because Madeline had told her, but it seemed he was lucky at cards and he’d won more than he’d lost. She hadn’t known that he’d been with other women and she’d hoped he might think better of his decision and give her another chance to be the wife he claimed to want.
She was aware of him standing there staring at her as she started to brush her hair, then he turned, walked back into his own room and slammed the door.
Roz shivered and her eyes filled with tears. Money, beautiful clothes and a comfortable house were nothing without at least respect and liking. She’d thought her marriage would be so different, believing that she could find happiness in her children. Now all she felt was humiliation and despair.
How could she bear to live this way? Most nights Harry didn’t even come into her room to say goodnight. In public he was the considerate husband, laughing and paying her compliments, but as soon as they were alone he withdrew. He called her frigid but he was like ice, refusing to listen to her or accept that she was genuinely sorry for what she’d done and for not being able to love him the way he had loved her. At first she’d wept and begged him to forgive her, but now she held back her tears until after he left her.
‘I thought we might change the menus, Mrs Martin,’ Roz said the next morning when she visited the kitchens. ‘We hardly need seven breakfast dishes. I believe four should be sufficient, unless we have guests.’
‘If you’re certain, ma’am,’ the housekeeper said and looked doubtful. ‘Mr Rushden has always liked a varied choice at every meal.’
‘Four dishes is sufficient at breakfast, and I’ve written down a list of dishes for this week. Next week we shall have guests and then we shall need more choices but for two of us it seems a waste. Most of it was untouched this morning.’
‘Yes, ma’am. If you say so.’
Roz walked about the kitchen, inspecting various objects and then nodded to the cook.
‘Everything is very clean. You are to be congratulated.’ She turned to Mrs Martin again. ‘I shall require a fire in the small back parlour in the mornings, but you need not light the fire in the drawing room until just before tea.’
