Spring came. Kate took a walk up to Ravensworth to visit her aunt and uncle, and to see the swaying blanket of daffodils lining the drive.
Passing the gates and ivy-clad walls of Farnacre Hall, she slowed and peered through the iron railings. The shutters were bolted at the downstairs windows and no smoke wafted from the many chimneypots. It looked quite deserted.
She found Lizzie at her door, in deep conversation with a neighbour. Alfred bounded forward to greet her.
‘I’ve got a new mouse - come and see!’
Kate hugged him and took his hand, greeting the women. As Alfred pulled her past them she asked about Farnacre.
‘It looks all closed up. Has Lady Caroline gone?’
‘Aye,’ Lizzie nodded.
‘So Lady Emma’s coming back then?’ She brightened.
The two women exchanged glances.
‘She’ll not come back now,’ the neighbour said with a disapproving frown. ‘I thought you would have heard down at the inn by now.’
‘Heard what?’
Her aunt looked uncomfortable. ‘Not in front of the bairn.’
‘Come on, Kate!’ Alfred was impatient.
‘You go and fetch the mouse,’ Kate encouraged, ‘while I have a word with your mam.’ He sped off inside. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked nervously.
‘Gone and got herself wed, that’s what!’ the neighbour snorted. ‘And her still in mourning for His Lordship. It’s a disgrace.’
Kate’s heart thudded in alarm. ‘Wed? Never so soon.’
‘Aye - and to that upstart,’ the woman complained. ‘The shame of it!’
Kate felt sick. ‘Who - who’s she married?’
Her aunt looked agitated as if she could not bring herself to say the name.
‘Is it Mr Pringle-Davies?’ Kate asked hoarsely.
They both gave her a strange look. For a moment no one spoke. Finally the neighbour said, ‘It was no gentleman. ‘Twas that footman James Wadsworth.’
Kate gawped at them in disbelief. ‘Mr Wadsworth? Never in the world!’
‘It’s as true as I’m standing here.’
Lizzie nodded in agreement.
Kate threw back her head and laughed in relief. They stared at her as if she’d gone mad.
‘It’s nowt to laugh about, hinny,’ Lizzie reproved. ‘It’s a scandal, that’s what it is.’
Chapter 17
Alexander returned in the early summer to the uproar of Emma’s swift marriage.
‘And to her footman!’ Jeremiah said with scorn. ‘She should still be in widow’s weeds, not taking another husband. And what a husband! What’s the world coming to when the ruling class start marrying their servants? Nobody knows where they stand!’
Alexander tried to hide his amusement at his father’s ranting, though it came as a shock to him too. Emma married to James Wadsworth, her handsome footman, and he half her age! Like himself, James must be about twenty-eight, no more. He felt a mixture of pique and admiration.
‘Where are they living?’
‘Not at Ravensworth, that’s for certain,’ Jeremiah spluttered. ‘No, no. They’ve taken some mansion in Newcastle; near Jesmond Dene, I’m told.’ He looked at his tall son in alarm. ‘You’re not to go there.’
Alexander just smiled. ‘It’ll blow over. The gossips will tire of them and find someone else to prey on.’
‘Maybe.’ Jeremiah cleared his throat and returned to the more certain ground of business.
Alexander spent the first couple of weeks contentedly at home. The long voyage back from South America had left him weak. Stormy weather and bouts of bleeding had confined him to his cabin and sapped him of strength. He had returned leaner, his face gaunt and weather-beaten. Travel had changed him. He had fallen in love with the open pampas of Argentina, a country of strong sunlight and baked hills, where he could ride for days without interruption.
He had attempted to fall in love with a woman, but his heart had not been in it. Kate Fawcett’s blushing features and easy laughter plagued him, though he knew he was being absurd. Perhaps he had fallen in love with his own drawings and not the real woman at all. For how could he love a simple maid whom he hardly knew? Yet, from the distance of thousands of miles, the rigid class barriers of England did not seem such an obstacle.
A month went by and he regained his strength. When his father suggested he accompany him on a trip to Ravensworth to meet Lord Thomas, Alexander jumped at the chance.
The castle seemed to bustle with as much life as ever, he was pleased to see. Lord and Lady Thomas were genial company and entertained them to lunch. But there was no question of him resuming the close family friendship of old. Alexander excused himself and said he needed fresh air.
‘His constitution’s not as robust since he’s been away,’ Jeremiah explained. ‘But he’s well enough. Quite able to take up the reins when I retire.’
Alexander groaned inwardly as he escaped on to the terrace. His father had been talking of retirement ever since his return. And he was pressing him about a betrothal to Polly De Winton once more. He could not evade it for ever.
It felt so good to be back at Ravensworth. The rhododendrons that Emma loved were in full bloom. He plucked a blossom as he passed, but it fell in a shower at his feet.
Alexander strolled through the gardens and around the lake, feeling a pang of longing for the previous summer when he had walked in the setting sun with Kate. Someone was fishing out on the water and birdsong filled the warm air, but it felt empty.
He had no way of knowing if Kate still worked at the castle. There had been so much upheaval in the past months. Perhaps she had gone with Emma and was working for her in Newcastle? Suddenly Alexander was filled with a desire to find out.
He made excuses not to return with his father to Darlington, insisting he visit their shipping agents on Tyneside.
‘I’ll return in a few days,’ he promised.
‘You better had,’ Jeremiah warned. ‘We have that theatre and supper party arranged for the De Wintons, remember. You miss that at your peril.’
It did not take long to find the modern red-brick mansion that Emma and her new husband had taken overlooking the wooded gorge of Jesmond Dene. The couple were out walking when he called, so Alexander waited impatiently in the upstairs drawing room.
‘Tell me,’ he asked the maid, who showed him into the light, well-furnished room, ‘does a girl called Kate Fawcett work here?’
She shook her head. ‘No, sir.’
Alexander felt a stab of disappointment. ‘Never mind, thank you.’ She curtsied and left.
Minutes later he heard voices below and went out to greet Emma.
‘Alex? This is wonderful!’ She threw out her arms to him as she mounted the stairs.
‘Mrs Wadsworth!’ he teased.
She laughed and they embraced like mother and son.
‘How are you?’ She steered him back to the drawing room. ‘You look thinner. Tell me every detail of your South American journey,’ she ordered, ‘right from the beginning. James and I want to hear everything.’
Alexander glanced behind them and saw her young husband stride in and hold out a hand in greeting. Alexander hesitated a beat then shook it.
‘James - it’s good to see you.’
‘Sir,’ James grinned.
‘You can call him Alexander now, dear,’ Emma said. ‘Remember your position.’
The men laughed and sat down either side of her. Tea was brought in while Alexander enthused about Argentina and the riding.
‘Have you been back to Ravensworth?’ Emma asked abruptly.
‘Yes.’ His look was cautious. ‘It’s not the same without you there. Why did you not return to Farnacre?’
She gave a smile
of regret and reached out to hold James’s hand. ‘It would have been too awkward. You know how unkind gossip can be. Better to start afresh somewhere new. We’re thinking of doing some travelling for a while. Perhaps Argentina, if it’s so wonderful. What do you think, dearest?’
James flushed. ‘Anywhere you choose.’
Alexander could see his host found the situation awkward and so he declined an invitation to stay for dinner.
‘No, I return to Darlington tonight,’ he said, kissing Emma’s hand. ‘Papa is matchmaking for me this week.’
‘Polly De Winton, I hope?’
‘Why do you hope?’
‘Because she’d make you happy. She’s in love with you.’
‘How could you possibly know?’ Alexander laughed.
‘She was one of the few county friends who dared to send us a message of goodwill on our marriage. Polly’s been a visitor here - she talked about you a lot.’
Alexander laughed it off. ‘You must have been stuck for conversation.’
As he left, he asked as casually as possible, ‘By the way, whatever happened to that singing maid of yours?’
Emma looked blank.
‘Your nightingale?’ he prompted. ‘Kate, I think she was called.’
‘Oh, the housemaid.’ Emma remembered. ‘She came with me to Famacre. I suppose she must still be there.’
‘The hall is closed up,’ he told her. ‘Caroline returned south.’
‘Then I don’t know.’
James spoke behind them. ‘Do you mean Kate Fawcett?’
Alexander’s heart jumped. ‘Yes - that could be her name.’
‘She has an uncle in the gardens. Spoke to him at the late earl’s funeral. Said Miss Peters sent her and the other maids packing after we left.’
Why hadn’t he thought of seeking out her Uncle Peter? Although how could he explain his interest in Kate without causing suspicion?
‘So she left the estate?’
‘Yes. Said something about her working in a public house. Bit of a comedown for a girl like her.’
She must have gone back to Jarrow, Alexander thought in disappointment. The place was full of drinking houses, as far as he could remember. He hated to think of her there. Was she reduced to serving dockers in some dingy bar, shut away from the fresh air and sunlight? He had an urge to rush to the town and search until he found her, rescue her and take her into his own household.
‘Is it important?’ Emma asked.
‘No,’ he said quickly.’ She just crossed my mind - with all this talk of Ravensworth.’
She gave him a curious look as he went.
How stupid of him even to mention her. He had been harbouring a ridiculous dream all these months. Nothing could ever come of it. Kate was gone and he was never likely to see her again.
All the way back on the train he felt wretched, but by the time he reached home he had convinced himself that he must put her from his mind. He would do something to please his father for once, and begin to court Polly in earnest.
Chapter 18
Late October 1904
The snow came down so suddenly that drinkers at the Ravensworth Arms were caught unawares. The light went quickly from the short afternoon and they left the fug of the taproom for the thick, silent white world of a snowstorm. Some struggled home, cursing the lack of moon, while others returned to the haven of the warm inn.
Kate was kept extra busy behind the bar and serving food, while Mary helped prepare rooms for stranded travellers. There was a commotion at the door.
‘Carriage gone in the ditch up the hill,’ Bram Taylor shouted the news. ‘I’ll take a couple of lads and see if we can pull them out.’
Kate nodded for Robert to go and help. The gardener’s son had been calling in to see her regularly since the summer. He drank little but made it last all evening in the hope of exchanging a few words with her. She found him likeable but tongue-tied and was growing impatient that he would never ask her to walk out.
‘Tell them there’s mutton broth to warm them before they travel on.’
Half an hour later, the men stamped back in with a blast of icy air and swirls of snow.
‘Two more for the night,’ Bram called cheerfully, ushering in two be-cloaked figures. ‘Mary, show them to our best bedchamber.’
Kate glanced through the door to see her sister bobbing at the be-hatted gentlemen and leading them to the stairs.
‘Someone grand?’ Kate asked Robert in amusement.
‘Aye,’ he blew on his numb hands, ‘been at the castle - left too late. Coach is stuck fast. We’ve stabled the horses.’
Kate grinned to hear him so garrulous. ‘Two more for supper then.’
But Mary came back saying the old man was staying in the room.
‘Wants a bowl of broth taken up to him - too grand for sitting in a public parlour,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘Other one’s coming down. Now he looks a real gentleman - posh voice and clothes. Handsome too.’
Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Suppose you’d like me to take the soup up to the old man while you serve down here?’
‘Aye,’ said Mary with a quick smile. ‘Ta, our Kate.’
Kate knocked at the door to the large bedroom and went in. She found a thin man with sparse grey hair sitting huddled by the coal fire, wrapped in a blanket.
‘Soup, sir.’ Kate put it on the table next to him. ‘Are you warm enough?’
He fixed her with red-rimmed, watery eyes. ‘Thank you, yes.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like? Mug of beer? I could warm it with the poker.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t touch the evil liquid.’
Kate felt the reproof. ‘I’ll bring a jug of hot water for washing, then. Nothing devilish in that.’
‘Wait. Have I seen you before?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Don’t know, sir. I used to work at the castle,’ she said with a lift of her chin.
‘That must be it,’ he said, and turned to his soup. ‘You may go.’
Kate descended the stairs wondering who this man with the well-cut clothes and superior air could be. There was something familiar about him too. But the bar was busy and she had no chance to question Mary on his companion.
The night wore on and the snow stopped, but nobody seemed in a hurry to go home.
‘Give us a song, Kate!’ a miner from Kibblesworth called. ‘Then we’ll gan home.’
Taylor encouraged her with a wink, so she went and stood by the fire and began to sing popular songs.
***
Pushing back his chair, Alexander thanked the pretty, thin-faced maid and headed for the stairs. Behind, the door to the taproom opened and a blast of noisy singing spilt out. He hesitated. Jeremiah was upstairs waiting to talk over their latest business at the castle and a possible trade mission to Germany. The bar looked warm and welcoming. A swift whisky before bed would do no harm. His father could wait.
Alexander turned back. As he stepped through the door, a woman’s voice came strong and clear. ‘The Waters of Tyne’, he thought in recognition. In an instant he was reminded of a summer’s evening at Ravensworth.
His insides clenched. That voice. It wasn’t just the song that was familiar. His heart started to thud. Alexander pushed his way into the room, past the drinkers at the bar. The singer was staring into the flames, her soft cheeks flushed in the firelight, hair glinting.
Kate!
He did not think he had spoken aloud, but she chose that moment to turn and look across the room. Her eyes widened in astonishment and she faltered in her song. They gazed at each other in shock.
Kate, seeing how others turned to stare, recovered herself and ploughed on with the song. Seeing how flustered she was, Taylor called a halt to the singsong a
nd told his customers to drink up and get off home before the snow started again.
Kate dashed for the safety of the kitchen. Her heart drummed so much she felt sick and breathless. After all this time! She had not set eyes on him for over a year and had given up any hope of seeing him again. Yet here he was, conjured out of the storm, and instantly he had the effect of making her legs useless and her words trapped in her throat.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Mary demanded.
‘Just catching me breath,’ Kate gasped, clutching the table.
Taylor called, ‘There’s glasses to clear!’
‘I’ll go,’ Mary offered, alarmed by Kate’s look.
Kate nodded and sank into a chair. This was ridiculous! How could he affect her so? He probably hardly remembered her or his once rash promise to take her riding. Though his aghast look suggested he had recognised her. Was it embarrassment that coloured his lean face?
She stood up and splashed water on her cheeks. No one was going to make her cower in the kitchen. She had nothing of which to be ashamed. Kate emerged and set about clearing the bar. Alexander was sitting at a table by the fire being served by Mary. She was laughing at something he said.
Kate’s insides somersaulted to see his sensuous smile and tawny eyes, and she felt a stab of jealousy. She busied herself with clearing the glasses and saying good night to the last of the drinkers. As she wiped a table close to Alexander, she heard him speak her name.
‘Kate,’ he said in a low voice, ‘do you not remember me?’
She looked up and felt her face burn under his reproachful look. Remember him? How could she not!
‘Aye, sir,’ she managed to say, continuing a vigorous mopping of the table.
Alexander felt dashed. He had found her again after all this time, having forced her from his mind, yet she hardly gave him a passing glance! Their summer walks must have meant nothing to her. Or was she wary of him after he broke their tryst?
‘Kate, come and sit with me.’
She glanced at the landlord, who was ushering people out of the door. ‘I can’t stop, sir.’
THE JARROW TRILOGY: all 3 enthralling sagas in 1 volume; The Jarrow Lass, A Child of Jarrow & Return to Jarrow Page 57
