THE JARROW TRILOGY: all 3 enthralling sagas in 1 volume; The Jarrow Lass, A Child of Jarrow & Return to Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Hannah pulled a scandalised face.

  ‘Aye,’ Lily nodded, ‘bit of a one for the ladies.’

  Hannah clucked. ‘And to think I let him draw me!’

  Kate and Suky exchanged looks but said nothing as they cleared their tea plates in the large kitchen. Later, Suky commented, ‘Told you to put him out your mind. Whatever interest he might show in lasses like us it won’t come to any good. Got his eyes set on Lady Ravensworth - fancy that!’

  ‘That’s just castle tittle-tattle,’ Kate snorted, but said no more. Whether any of it was true was nothing to do with her. He was so far out of her reach that she was foolish even to give him a second thought, let alone the hours of daydreaming she had wasted. So she put the mysterious Alexander from her mind and determined to look for a suitor among the estate staff like her Aunt Lizzie had done.

  There was tall, serious-faced Robert, the head gardener’s son, who worked hard in all weathers, or Tommy, one of the friendly stable lads who was always cheerful and telling jokes. She had danced with them both in the summer and sat near them at the harvest festival service at Lamesley parish church, which the Liddells attended. Tommy would be more fun, but Robert a better catch, diligently learning his craft from his father. Kate determined to impress him by offering to sweep out the store houses and feed the gardeners’ cats that kept down the threat of mice in the sheds.

  Suky became her ally in romance and was happy to spend snatched moments of freedom walking by the stables or potting sheds and exchanging a few words with the lads. On their fortnightly day off the girls would dress in their best and go down to St Andrew’s church in Lamesley for the morning service, then walk up the hill to the mining village of Kibblesworth where Suky’s family lived.

  Kate loved the cosy fug in the squat cottage and the smell of roasting meat and the steam puddings that Suky’s mother made. Suky had two younger brothers just recently started down the pit and a younger sister who demanded they play hopscotch as soon as they arrived. Suky’s parents were kind and welcoming, and Kate envied her friend such a haven to which to return.

  She felt guilty that she had never been home to Jarrow once since leaving in July, but had written to her mother that it was too far to travel for a day off. She would not get back by nightfall on these short dark days, she told them. She would wait until she could arrange two days off and come and see them, maybe near Christmas.

  Kate received no letters back, but did not expect them. Her mother could barely write and she imagined Mary refusing to on her behalf, just out of awkwardness. No news probably meant that everything was fine.

  She shuddered to think what her stepfather would say if he knew how she spent her free time, attending an Anglican church and sitting down to eat in a pitman’s house. He would curse her into next week! Even though he never darkened a church door, John would fight to defend his Catholic faith and take a belt to any of his family who dared do anything else. As for miners and their families, to John they were dirty and rebellious and not to be trusted. How often had Kate heard him blame all their ill fortune and the slumps in trade on the miners? Even bad weather seemed to be the fault of the miners or the Protestants, or more usually both. Kate felt a defiant thrill of rebellion that she could do as she wanted at Ravensworth and her ranting stepfather was none the wiser.

  Christmas came, but Kate never went home. She and Suky helped decorate Farnacre with streamers and glittering baubles, and a large Christmas tree with candles and gaudy paste bells. There was a generous Christmas dinner in the week before the day itself for the estate staff up at the castle to which they went, and every one of them received a present from the Liddells - small bars of soap, combs, mittens, handkerchiefs or ribbon.

  Lizzie was walking properly again, but Kate insisted on cooking their Christmas dinner and roasting chestnuts in the dying embers of the fire. On Boxing Day it snowed, so she did not venture to Kibblesworth with Suky, but stayed and sledged on sacks with George and Alfred. They ended up in a snowball fight with Robert, and Kate thought with a brief pang of guilt how Jack would have enjoyed such an afternoon. How was her young half-brother faring this Christmas? She would go home soon.

  Then suddenly, in the middle of January, the dowager died in her sleep. The estate was plunged into mourning and Kate’s happy world was shaken.

  “What’ll happen to us?’ Suky asked.

  Kate shrugged in despair. If the house was closed, she would have no option but to return to Jarrow. Lizzie was well again and without the job at the hall there would be no excuse to stay.

  For a month they carried on working at Farnacre while lawyers and estate managers came and went, assessing the contents and itemising the furniture. Suky and Kate were set to scrubbing the place from the attics to the cellars and packing away china and linen, which was carried off to the castle or to auction. Eventually the dustsheets were drawn over the remaining furniture and the life seeped out of the hall like the bleak, chill dead days of January.

  At the end of the month, Miss Peters, the housekeeper, told them with a note of satisfaction that they would only be employed for a further week. She and Cook would be staying on to keep an eye on the place, but the young women would not be needed.

  Suky pulled a face behind the woman’s back. ‘Least we won’t have to see her miserable face every morning,’ she muttered out of earshot.

  The next day Suky disappeared.

  ‘Gone home,’ Cook told Kate.

  ‘She never said goodbye,’ Kate said, feeling hurt.

  ‘Doesn’t stand still long enough for goodbyes,’ Cook grunted. ‘Heard of a job down at the Ravensworth Inn. Told me to tell you. Don’t want to work in a place like that,’ she added in disapproval.

  Kate knew the place; they had passed it often on their way up to Kibblesworth. It was a lively coaching inn, busy with passing trade and miners supping in the bar on pay day. On high days and feast days, staff from Ravensworth were known to quench their thirst there too. Compared to the pubs around Jarrow in which her stepfather spent his evenings, the local inn looked a palace, but Kate said nothing to Cook.

  Feeling down at heart, Kate rolled up her sleeves and got on with the meagre pile of washing - a tablecloth, aprons and a handful of towels. Later, as she pegged them out in the raw air, she comforted herself by singing. A fluffed-up thrush sat on the nearby water barrel and listened to her mournful song, ‘Thora’, of a lost land of stars and happiness. She would look back on these golden months at Ravensworth with the same deep longing as she felt in the bitter-sweet song.

  Only when she had finished did she become aware of someone pausing in the shadow of the courtyard gateway. The figure moved forward and Kate saw the strained, pale features of Lady Ravensworth, a fur cape pulled about her black silk mourning dress. Kate bobbed in curtsy.

  ‘What beautiful singing,’ the countess smiled. ‘I’ve heard you before, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Kate nodded, ‘at the summer ball - for the servants, ma’am.’

  ‘Of course. You were going to sing for Her Ladyship,’ Lady Ravensworth recalled. ‘Did you ever sing for her?’

  Kate shook her head.

  ‘What a pity.’ She stepped across the icy cobbles.

  ‘Watch your step, Your Ladyship!’ Kate cried in alarm, rushing forward to support her. ‘It’s slippy as fish round here.’

  Emma laughed, then checked herself. ‘Oh, dear. I know we’re all supposed to be so sad and solemn, but it is nice to hear someone singing for a change. It’s so depressing up at the castle, everyone draped in black like crows. It’s not as if Her Ladyship didn’t have a good and happy life.’

  Kate stared, embarrassed. Fancy Lady Ravensworth talking so candidly to her, a laundry maid!

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m making you feel awkward.’ Emma smiled, and patted Kate’s pink cheek. ‘It’s just I’ve done m
y fair share of dressing in black.’ She did not elaborate, just sighed and pulled her cape about her.

  ‘Aye, it’s sad for us all,’ Kate blurted out. ‘I’ve been that happy working here.’

  The older woman eyed her in surprise. ‘Aren’t you staying?’

  ‘No, ma’am. Not needed now the house is being closed up.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  Kate’s shoulders drooped. ‘Gan back to Jarrow and look for work.’

  ‘Is that where you’re from?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Isn’t that strange?’ Emma declared. ‘The earl’s family had a connection with that town. His Lordship’s cousin Edward was the rector of Jarrow for several years. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Canon Liddell?’

  Kate shook her head, then remembered. ‘There’s a dispensary named after a Liddell, mind.’

  ‘No doubt that was for Edward - such a kind, dear man. He came to our wedding. Was very frail by then. They say Jarrow killed him - worked himself into an early grave. Such a nice wife too.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said, feeling in some way implicated. ‘Jarrow’s a hard place. Me own father died young too.’

  ‘Poor girl!’ Emma exclaimed, her delicately boned face creased in concern. Suddenly she made up her mind. ‘You can’t go back to that town - I won’t allow it! If they don’t need you here, you’ll come and work at the castle. Yes, you’ll brighten up all the long faces with your singing! Promise me you’ll sing while you work?’

  Kate gawped in astonishment. Was she really being offered a lifeline at the last moment? Or was this just another of Her Ladyship’s whims that she would forget by nightfall?

  ‘I’ll sing as much as you want, ma’am,’ she said quickly.

  Lady Ravensworth laughed. ‘Splendid! I’ll speak to Miss Peters now - she can arrange it all.’ She waved her cloak in the direction of the hall. Kate followed, stuttering her thanks.

  As an afterthought, Her Ladyship asked, ‘What is your name, child?’

  ‘Kate, ma’am,’ she smiled proudly, ‘Kate Fawcett.’

  Two days later, to the resentment of some servants who thought her a brazen upstart, Kate began at the castle as a housemaid, cleaning out fires and carrying pails of water with Hannah. She ignored the callous comments about her lowly origins and smothered her Jarrow accent as best she could, aping the more refined speech of the parlour maids. And she hummed and sang as she worked.

  The following month, she got word from Suky that she was working at the inn at Lamesley, as Cook had indicated. They met up on Kate’s day off and swapped news. Suky was courting a lad from Kibblesworth. Kate was struck by how alike their friendship and conversation were to hers and Sarah’s. It was months since she had last gossiped with her older sister and walked arm in arm sharing secrets.

  Kate knew then that she could not put off going home any longer. Now that she was working at the grand castle, she was keen to see her mother and tell her the news in person. For the first time since leaving Jarrow she had a rush of homesickness. She longed to see her mother and Jack, and catch a glimpse of Sarah. She even missed Mary.

  Next month was Mothering Sunday. She would go home for that. Kate wrote to Rose the following week. As the days grew longer and daffodils sprang from the hard earth around, Kate was filled with sunny optimism. Maybe even her stepfather would be pleased to see her.

  Chapter 9

  Alexander gazed out over the grey, choppy waters of the Gulf of Bothnia, breathing in the sharp air. The coast here was low-lying, a lacework of waterways and islands, dark fir trees growing right to the water’s edge. Dotted among them were wooden houses and churches, the smoke from their stoves hanging over the trees like a blanket.

  After three frantic months of travelling the countries of the Baltic, always keeping on the move, he had wintered in Uppsala, north of Stockholm. Constant ferry journeys, cheap hotels and touting for business had left him jaded and it had been a relief to see the winter draw in and the lakes freeze over. The eastern Swedish ports had become ice-bound and the steamers marooned, the flotilla of foreign ships slipping away.

  He had taken rooms close to the lofty-spired cathedral, among Uppsala’s students, and hibernated. The furthest he went each day was to cross one of the five bridges over the icy Fyrisa River to spend the short afternoon in the public reading room, flicking through the foreign newspapers. In the evening he would keep warm in a cafe, drinking arrack and eating a smorgasbord of herring and relishes, discussing literature and art with students. They argued about politics and whether Sweden should break away from Norway; they talked of workers’ rights.

  Alexander was impressed with conditions he found in the mining towns of Sweden. He had stayed with Baron Tamm in the forests of Osterby and been taken to view the mines and iron works of Uppland. Close to the baron’s mansion and parks was a purpose-built town of streets and canals radiating out from a central square. The workers’ dwellings were rows of one-storey houses, each with a garden, byre and stable, with plots of cultivated land behind.

  ‘Every family has at least one cow,’ the baron told him proudly. ‘Everyone should be able to feed their children.’

  Alexander had nodded, reminded of dim childhood memories of Jarrow, a town of shipbuilding and iron works. How closely the baron’s words echoed those of his beloved cousin Edward, the local rector. He remembered the damp and filth of the houses they had visited. He would cling to his cousin in fright on entering the dark cottages with the stench of excrement from the open middens making him gag. He could not remember anything growing in Jarrow, let alone gardens and smallholdings for the workers.

  How Edward would have wept to see the comparative paradise of these Swedish labourers. All he had been able to give the people of Jarrow was cocoa in the cold of dawn and the comfort of companionship and sharing their plight. Alexander felt angry every time he thought of Jarrow -the town that had stolen his cousin’s health and so robbed him of a loving family home. Not that Jeremiah had been unkind. But he was widowed and childless and had taken on Alexander as a commercial transaction as much as an act of charity. He was helping out his powerful employer at Ravensworth and training up a ‘son’ to carry on his business.

  But Alexander was practised at banishing unhappy memories and had soon put thoughts of Jarrow from his mind. Instead he had enjoyed his stay with the baron and his family, especially the company of their daughter, Anna, who was lively and keen to practise her English. Alexander had spent a month hunting elk and shooting duck with the baron, and falling in love with fair-haired Anna.

  Then letters had begun to arrive from Jeremiah, ordering him back to England, and Alexander had disappeared to Stockholm. There he had sent a message from the telegraph office of the Grand Hotel that he was ice-bound for the rest of the winter. He followed it up with a longer letter telling how he had secured a lucrative contract with Baron Tamm. The Swedish iron magnate needed a plentiful supply of British coal. While here he would seek out a ready supply of cheap timber for their North-East pits.

  Alexander slipped north to Uppsala. But his money was spent (Jeremiah had stopped his allowance until his return) and he could no longer barter for food in the cafes with his sketches, or cover his rent by giving drawing lessons to students. Besides, spring was stirring in the deep black forests and the groaning sound of ice cracking broke the quiet.

  Now here he was in the port of Gefle watching the newly arrived ships queuing at the quayside to load with timber. This rapidly growing manufacturing town, with its large shipbuilding wharfs, reminded him of Newcastle. Like Newcastle, the whole of the quarter on the north bank had been destroyed by fire a generation ago and its quayside was now laid out with broad streets and solid buildings lapped by the dirty waters of a bustling harbour.

  Alexander felt a sudden rush of desire to be home. He wanted to smell the
oily, fishy mouth of the Tyne, to step on the crowded quayside and hear the harsh cries of the brightly skirted fishwives. He thirsted for the taste of dark beer in the snug of a Newcastle pub, and yearned to ride out on the dun-coloured moors as the snows melted and the rivers roared with spring torrents.

  He thought longingly of Ravensworth and the final ride he had taken with Polly De Winton. He’d hardly thought of the squire’s daughter in months, but he recalled how nimbly she had mounted her horse and ridden for hours without tiring. He would pay her a call on his return.

  Ravensworth! He conjured up the bare trees sticky with new buds and the carpets of daffodils dancing in the March wind. Lady Ravensworth would be pleased to see him and demand to be told of his adventures. He would bask in her interest like the welcome spring sunshine.

  Two days later, Alexander took the train back to Stockholm and then the long trail to Gothenburg in the west. He was too impatient to wait for the steamer that would edge its way across the massive central lakes, but all he could afford was third class on the local goods trains (which his worn copy of Baedeker warned him to avoid). The journey seemed endless as they rattled over viaducts spanning foaming waterfalls, constantly lurching to a stop at small villages and weaving towns.

  For once he did not want to linger in the pleasant, elegant city of Gothenburg with its canals and wide avenues. He had no money for the harbour restaurants, and the pleasure gardens and open-air swimming baths were still firmly closed.

  Alexander went straight to the Stora Bommens Hamn where the large sea-going steamers moored, and booked a passage home. He telegraphed his father, who grumblingly pledged to cover his fare. Five days later, after a stormy crossing that left him sick and cabin-bound, Alexander stepped shakily but thankfully back on to Newcastle’s quayside.

  Chapter 10

  When Kate rose on the morning of her journey home it was still dark, but Peter gave her a lift on his cart down to the station at Lamesley and young Alfred insisted on coming too. The small boy missed having Kate living at the cottage since she had moved into the castle to work. But all the household staff lived in, for their hours were long and the housekeeper and head butler wanted them under their rule.