by Evie Grace
‘I’m sorry, love,’ Stephen said when they’d gone. ‘I couldn’t stop them.’
‘I’m all right. Ma can’t hurt me now. With you at my side, I have no fear.’ Emily brightened a little. ‘Would you bring the children to me? I’d like to see them now.’
Stephen came back with the children. The girl, Jessie, who was three and much like her mother in appearance with long, curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, scrambled up and bounced on the bed, throwing her arms around Emily’s neck and smothering her with kisses. Matthew was eighteen months old and more like his father, quiet and reserved. He toddled along the side of the bed, holding on to the bedsheets.
‘It’s time for bed,’ Stephen said eventually. ‘You can see Mama again in the morning.’
Jessie looked close to tears, but she didn’t argue and it wasn’t long before she and Matthew were asleep in the room next door.
‘I thought I’d sleep here with my wife,’ Stephen said later.
‘No, I’ll sit with her,’ Catherine said. ‘I mean, spend as much time as you like, but don’t stay up all night when I’m here to help out. She’ll need you when I’ve gone back to Faversham.’
‘You’re right, Catherine. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘There’s no need. Thank you for standing up for me. I expect the whole of Overshill is agog at my return.’
‘I’m afraid so. Although it happened some time ago, Bossenden is still fresh in many people’s memories.’ He gazed at her in the dusky light. The shape of his nose and the line of his jaw reminded her with a jolt of Matty. She turned away abruptly, dismissing the comparison.
She sat up all night with Emily, listening to Stephen tossing and turning in the room downstairs. She fed the baby three times and soothed Jessie when she had a nightmare. In the morning, she awoke with a start at the sound of flapping and the thud of a bird flying into the window which she had left ajar. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she got up from her chair. The pigeon must have fallen down the chimney and onto the ashes of the fire. In its panic to escape, it had flown back and forth, scattering soot and feathers across the room, and now it was caught between the curtains and window-glass.
She crept towards it and slipped her hand between the curtains to push the window wide open, at which the bird flew out into the trees beyond. She took a cloth and cleaned up the evidence as best she could before Emily woke and Maud brought breakfast of bread soaked in weak tea.
‘How are you, my darling wife?’ Stephen asked as he entered the sickroom and went to Emily’s bedside. ‘You are looking quite well today.’
‘I’m feeling a little better,’ she said, her voice faint.
‘But you haven’t eaten anything,’ Catherine pointed out.
‘You must take some nourishment,’ Stephen said, kissing Emily tenderly on the forehead. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you,’ she whispered.
Stephen turned to Catherine when she accompanied him downstairs to fetch milk for the baby.
‘Do you think she’s on the mend?’ he asked.
‘I believe it’s too early to say,’ Catherine said, thinking of the bird. It was a bad omen that only added to her sense of unease. ‘I’ll send for you if there’s any change.’
‘Thank you.’ Stephen returned to his work in the forge with Daniel, while Maud minded the children. Catherine sat with Emily, awaiting Doctor Whebley’s arrival.
‘I’m so glad that you and Matty are happy together,’ Emily said, suddenly grasping at Catherine’s arm. Catherine took her hand and felt her pulse thin and thread-like at her wrist as Emily went on, ‘Stephen says there are more lambs at Wanstall Farm.’
Catherine’s heart dipped.
‘There are no sheep at Wanstall Farm. Not any more.’
‘But I’ve seen them. Only last Michaelmas.’ Emily’s words slurred. ‘Oh dear, and I’ve just remembered that I should be looking after them.’ She tried to get out of bed, but her limbs were too weak. ‘Don’t let them take my children, will you, Catherine? Promise me.’
‘No one will take them,’ she reassured her.
‘Not Ma and Pa.’
‘You and Stephen will care for them when you are better.’
‘I’m going to die,’ Emily said. ‘I told you – I had a premonition before Jessie was born …’
‘I know, but that was a long time ago. Oh, Emily, if anything should happen to you, which it won’t, then I promise you with all my heart that I will make sure that your children stay with their father.’
That seemed to satisfy her because she leaned back against the pillows.
‘Can you hear the owls calling to each other?’ she whispered.
‘You’re dreaming,’ Catherine said quietly, noting how her skin had grown mottled and cool to the touch. ‘Let me tuck you in, my dearest friend. I can hear the doctor on the stairs.’
Doctor Whebley was grave. The outlook was poor. He prescribed a laxative purgation and bled Emily by cup, and, bonded in their concern for their patient, Catherine didn’t disagree even though the whole bloodletting episode seemed brutal. She’d do anything to make Emily better.
The doctor left, promising to return the following day, but from then on, Emily fidgeted and moaned in a delirium. They were heading into uncharted waters, Catherine thought, and who knew where they were going to end up.
Over the next two hours, Emily’s body stilled and her breathing slowed to an occasional gasp. Catherine sent for the maid who sent for Stephen who called for Reverend Browning, and by midday, it was over.
Emily was dead, Stephen a widow and their children motherless.
Catherine covered the mirror on the dressing table and placed pennies on Emily’s eyelids to keep them closed, so that nothing bad would befall her kin from looking into the glass or upon her eyes. The vicar came and said a few words over the body. The Reverend Browning raised one eyebrow when Catherine introduced herself, but he made no comment on the past. When he had gone, Stephen fell to his knees at his wife’s bedside and held her hands to his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he kissed her fingers and gazed heavenwards.
‘Why, oh why, did you take her in spite of all my prayers?’
‘It isn’t for us to reason why,’ Catherine said softly, repeating the Reverend Browning’s words, but she couldn’t help wondering why anyway. What was the purpose of Emily’s death? She was so young, only twenty-two. She was a wife and mother. She was needed here on Earth.
Stephen ranted and raved against everyone, blaming the vicar and the doctor, whether they were blameless or not, and everything that had sought to part him and his love. He blamed the baby. He blamed himself.
‘What have I done to deserve this?’
‘It isn’t anyone’s fault,’ Catherine said, but he wouldn’t listen.
‘I promised you we’d grow old together, my angel, and I’ve let you down,’ he cried.
Catherine stood back, biting her fist as he went on, ‘I wasn’t a good husband at first. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But you forgave me, and in return, I’ve loved you more than anyone could have done, with all my heart and soul. You made me whole, and gave us the gift of children to light up our lives. Oh, Emily, my darling, I can’t go on without you.’
‘You have to, Stephen, for the children’s sake,’ Catherine said quietly.
‘I wish I could have lain down and died in your stead.’ He stood up, leaned down and kissed Emily’s cheek before turning and walking out. Catherine heard his boots clacking against the stone floor downstairs, and the door slam behind him. A little while later, she heard the ringing of his hammer as he forged something from his love, anger and despair.
On hearing the children’s cries, and Maud’s futile attempts to console them, she forced herself to leave her friend’s side and went down to the kitchen.
‘I don’t know what to do, miss,’ the girl said tearfully. ‘There’s nothing I can do or say to make them feel better. It’s a
terrible thing to lose a mother at such a young age.’
‘’Rin,’ Jessie said, taking her hand. ‘Will Mama be back for teatime? Maud says she’s in heaven which is in the sky.’ She looked up through the kitchen window, her eyes wide with awe. ‘How did she get there?’
Catherine knelt beside her.
‘She was sick. Her body couldn’t take any more, so our Father in His wisdom released her soul and carried her away to paradise.’
‘I wanna go too,’ Jessie said.
‘You will do one day, but not for a very long time.’
‘Will Mama be back for bedtime?’ Jessie asked.
‘No, she won’t,’ Catherine said, at which Jessie burst into tears.
‘There, there,’ she soothed as she took her in her arms. ‘Your mama loves you very much. She’ll be watching over you from above.’ She thought of Agnes and how she had abandoned her, and wondered if she remembered her mother who had loved her, and still did. It wasn’t fair. It should have been her who had died, not Emily who had three children who needed her. ‘Now, Maud is going to look after you for a while. There’s something I have to do.’
She glanced towards Maud, who nodded and said, ‘Jessie, I need you to help me feed Matthew and baby Stanley.’
‘Thank you,’ Catherine said. She returned upstairs to wash and dress Emily’s body in the best gown she could find, and sat up keeping watch over her. Her blonde ringlets tumbled across the pillow and her hands lay across her breast, linked together as though in silent prayer for her husband and children. As the clouds swept across the sky outside, casting a pall across the room, Catherine could almost imagine that she was sleeping.
She turned at the sound of a knock on the door.
‘Come in.’
‘It’s me,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ve come to pay my respects to the late Mrs Carter.’ He hovered in the doorway, holding his cap in his hands. ‘She’s been good to me. She welcomed me into her home and fed me, and she’s treated my wounds on more than one occasion. I don’t know how many times I hit my thumb with the hammer when I started here as a humble apprentice. Well, I wasn’t humble at first, which was a problem – I thought I knew it all. And when the master threatened to send me away, it was Mrs Carter who stood up for me and convinced him to give me another chance. Why did she have to go and die, and so sudden? She was doing the laundry and fetching and carrying only the day before yesterday,’ he added in a puzzled tone.
‘The vicar says it is God’s will, that she was too good for this world,’ Catherine said. ‘The doctor claims that she was taken by childbed fever. Daniel, I’d be very grateful if you would keep a close eye on Stephen. He is extremely distressed.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Of course, ma’am. What about the little ones?’
‘I’m going to stay for a few days after the funeral to make sure some arrangement is in place for the children before I return to Faversham.’ She wasn’t sure how Emily’s babies would be cared for yet.
On the morning of the funeral, the bearers came to the house with the parish coffin from the church. They laid Emily, wrapped in a winding sheet, within the plain wood coffin, and put a sprig of rosemary on the top. The men bore her on their shoulders to the church with the family and other mourners, including George Carter and his daughter, following along behind. Catherine noticed Mr and Mrs Millichip standing well back near the ragstone and flint churchyard wall, watching from a distance. Remembering Emily’s wishes, she suppressed an impulse to go and offer them her condolences. It was too late.
Stephen paid for the vicar to say a few words at the graveside, speeding her path to heaven, and Emily’s body was laid in the ground in the winding sheet, and the coffin returned to the church. Her grave was set just inside the churchyard wall in the shade of a yew tree, covered with earth and marked only with a ridge of soil.
Chapter Eighteen
Least Said, Soonest Mended
Overshill
Stephen was inconsolable. He returned straight to the forge and threw himself into his work, leaving Catherine and the maid to care for the children.
‘What will you do now?’ Maud asked when she arrived at Forge Cottage for work the morning after the funeral.
Catherine was in the kitchen with Jessie and Matthew, eating eggs for breakfast, while the baby slept in his basket on the settle. She stood up and began to clear the table.
‘I don’t know,’ Catherine said. ‘Stay until the children and Stephen no longer need me, I suppose.’ She couldn’t abandon them at this time. People would talk, no doubt, but what did it matter? How could Stephen possibly cope with three small children? He could hardly afford Maud, let alone a live-in maid. ‘We need more milk for the baby. Do you think you can send out for some?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said.
‘I’ll mind the children for a while,’ Catherine said, feeling a little uncomfortable about giving Maud orders. She didn’t want anyone to think she was taking Emily’s place, and she had no wish to hurt Stephen’s feelings by making decisions on his behalf when he was the master of the house, but someone had to step into the breach and keep the household running.
There was a knock at the door. Maud went to answer it.
‘It’s Mrs Browning wanting to see you,’ she called.
‘Show her through,’ Catherine said, quickly wiping her hands. ‘Children, you go with Maud.’
‘Where shall we go?’ Maud said, showing Mrs Browning into the kitchen. She was carrying a basket, its contents covered with a white cloth.
‘Please, take a seat, Mrs Browning,’ Catherine said, pointing to the chair beside the fireplace. ‘Maud, put their coats on and take them to ask Daniel about getting some more goats’ milk.’ The last thing Catherine wanted was for the vicar’s wife to upset them again with talk of their dearly departed mother, which she assumed was the reason for her visit. She put Matthew’s hat and coat over the top of his tunic dress while Maud helped Jessie with her outdoor clothes. Maud lifted Matthew up and carried him out on one hip with Jessie holding her hand.
To Catherine’s relief, Stanley remained asleep.
‘Good morning, Miss Rook,’ Mrs Browning began as the front door clicked shut. ‘We didn’t have a chance to renew our acquaintance at the funeral. You’d rushed away before we could speak.’
Catherine sat down at the end of the settle.
‘It is always sad when a family is devastated by the loss of a mother,’ Mrs Browning went on. ‘It’s my Christian duty to see if there is anything I can do to assist in their hour of need.’ She reached inside her basket and pulled out a pie. ‘This is for the poor, suffering widower and his children.’
Catherine thanked her, got up and took the pie and placed it on the table.
‘How are your parents and John?’ Mrs Browning asked.
‘I haven’t spoken to them for a long time,’ Catherine said. ‘I hear they have gone to live with my brother, Young Thomas, over near Selling.’ She was sorry about John – she still missed him. But Ma and Pa were as good as dead to her. ‘How are Miss Browning and Master Browning?’
‘Hector remains engaged to Squire Temple’s daughter and continues to pursue his studies. Jane is running the Sunday school as before, but I didn’t call to talk about other people. I came to ask what you are doing back in Overshill.’
‘Stephen sent for me – Emily wished to see me.’ Catherine suppressed the sob that rose in her throat. ‘She had a premonition and wanted to say goodbye. And I believe she decided that I should be here to take care of her children while Stephen grieves.’
‘But you remain unmarried, Miss Rook,’ Mrs Browning said. ‘It is most improper for you to stay here at Forge Cottage, living under the same roof as Mr Carter.’
‘There is nothing improper about it,’ Catherine exclaimed. ‘How can you suggest such a thing when my dearest friend was laid to rest only yesterday?’ She picked up the pie and carried it back to Mrs Browning. ‘We don’t need your charity.’ She dropped the pie back in th
e basket. ‘I should like you to leave.’
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ Mrs Browning said, standing up and straightening her skirts.
‘I insist on you leaving,’ Catherine said. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Browning. Don’t call again.’
‘Good day, Miss Rook,’ Mrs Browning said. ‘You are making a mistake. People remember your history.’
‘Let them,’ she said. Trembling, she closed the front door behind the vicar’s wife. Was this how it was to be? Was she to be punished for the rest of her life for falling in love with the wrong man? She took a deep breath before returning to the kitchen where the baby was starting to whimper. She picked him up and rocked him gently in her arms while she waited for the others to return with the milk.
Mrs Browning’s censure was only to be expected, she thought, and she was going to ignore it. She was here for a purpose – to care for Emily’s children until she was no longer needed, and that was what she was going to do. She wouldn’t tell Stephen about the visit because she didn’t want to upset him any further.
After two weeks of mourning when she avoided running into people in the village as far as she could, Catherine turned to improving the situation at the forge. She put on Emily’s apron and set to work, cleaning the walls and floors, and removing the cobwebs from the corners of the rooms. She cooked pies and stews and churned butter. She fed and bathed the baby, and sang lullabies to him, just as she’d done with Agnes. She taught Jessie to play spillikins, which wasn’t a perfect success, because Matthew liked to join in, pulling not one, but several sticks at a time from the pile with his clumsy fingers, and moving Jessie to tears of frustration.
One day she took Jessie to visit Pa Carter, who was toiling in the garden at Toad’s Bottom. He walked over to them and leaned on his hoe.
‘How are you, Miss Rook?’ he asked.
‘I’m well, thank you. How are you?’
‘I could be better,’ he said, rubbing the small of his back. He glanced towards the cottage. ‘My daughter looks after me well, though. She’s a good girl. How is Stephen?’
