by Val Wood
Mrs Brewster sat silently watching her, shaking her head and pressing her lips together. Then she said gently, ‘Well it seems to me that this is very timely. You need somewhere to bide awhile, I need somebody to help me out in ’house now I’ve got this broken wrist, and Mr Brewster and me are allus glad of a bit o’ company. So what do you think; would you like to stop here wi’ us? You’d be safe enough, and if this Wilf fellow should come lookin’ for you, then Mr Brewster’d tek his shotgun to him.’
Susannah gave a snorting laugh at the thought of old Mr Brewster chasing off Wilf Topham. That she would like to see. She dried her eyes and with a trembling mouth she said, ‘Yes please, Mrs Brewster. I would like to stay, but what would I do about paying you? I’ve only got a bit of money.’ She suddenly remembered the sovereign. ‘I’ve got a sovereign!’ she said. ‘Someone gave it to me last year for my birthday.’
‘Somebody gave you a sovereign!’ Mrs Brewster said, astonished. ‘My word! So there’s somebody who cares enough about you to give you such a tidy sum!’
‘No!’ Susannah gave a watery smile. ‘No, he’s very rich, I think. He gave Thomas something too, only he spent his and Aunt Lol said she’d keep mine safe for something special.’
‘Well, you keep it for a bit longer, m’dear,’ the old lady said. ‘There might come a time when you really need it. But I don’t want any money from you. If you help me out as I suggest, that’ll pay for your bed and board, and then, well, we’ll see what comes after.’ She smiled fondly at Susannah. ‘We won’t look too far ahead into ’future. We’ll let it look after itself. Now then,’ she said. ‘How do you think them chops are doing?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
As Mrs Marston had suggested last year, Joseph had deliberately stayed away from Welwick on Susannah’s birthday; as she had pointed out, his presence every birthday would be awkward to explain as Susannah grew up.
It had been difficult for him. He wanted to see the child, even though it exposed painful old wounds each time he saw her. She was unlike her mother, with fairer skin and light hair. More like me, he had thought each time he had previously visited, though she has a gentler nature than mine. But now he was on his way there, riding through a dark and stormy evening and telling himself that he was only visiting in order to ascertain how she was coping since her great-aunt had died.
Mrs Topham is a poor stick, he mused. I can’t think that she has the capability to look after a growing child, and into his head again came the plan, which came so often, that he would at last tell his wife about Susannah and say that he wanted to bring her home to grow up with their three sons, Austin the eldest and twins Philip and Matthew.
Arlette will not agree to her coming, that I know, he mused; yet it should hardly concern her as she spends so little time in Holderness, running across to France on the slightest pretext and taking Austin with her, even though she knows I want him here. How will he ever understand farming when they are forever gallivanting in Paris?
Father will object, of course, as he will not speak of the matter and still has the ridiculous notion that it must be kept from Julia. He pondered on how his sister had been kept in the dark all these years, as his parents had considered the subject of Susannah far too outrageous for her delicate maidenly ears. But it is no longer their concern. I must consider my daughter; her life is what matters, and … He paused before dismounting outside the Tophams’ cottage. I must confess that I would draw comfort from her presence, and perhaps at last I might accept that my dearest love has gone from me for ever.
He gave a sharp rap on the door and waited. There was no light showing from the window and no sound from inside. He knocked again. Perhaps Mrs Topham is at work. But Susannah should be home from school at this time. He peered in the rain-spattered window but could see nothing. He hit the door harder and thought he heard a shuffling sound inside. ‘Mrs Topham,’ he called, though not too loudly so as not to disturb the neighbours. ‘It’s Joseph Ellis.’
He heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back and the door opened a crack. A pale face peered through at him. ‘I can’t let you in,’ a voice rasped. ‘I’m sick.’
He stood back a pace. ‘Mrs Topham! What’s wrong? Do you have an infection?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘None that you can catch.’
‘Then let me in! Where’s Susannah?’
There was no reply. Then the door slowly opened, revealing Jane Topham in an appalling state. Her swollen face was bruised and yellow, her lips were so distended that she could hardly open them, and the clothing beneath her shabby shawl was bloodstained.
‘Whatever has happened?’ Joseph stared in horror. ‘Have you had an accident?’ He came inside the room. ‘Who’s looking after you? Mrs Topham!’ he exclaimed as comprehension dawned. ‘Who’s done this to you? And for God’s sake, where is Susannah?’
‘Safe,’ she mumbled. ‘I sent her away.’ Her dull eyes looked away from him. ‘Sorry. Must sit down.’ She held her hands to her ribs as she staggered towards the bed in the corner and he saw the stained bedding, and that there was no fire. He tried not to take a breath for the room stank, more foul and rank than any midden.
‘Who’s responsible for this? Have you seen a doctor?’ She gave him a reproachful glance. No, of course not; people like her didn’t use doctors. He recalled with sudden painful clarity Mary-Ellen’s refusal of a doctor when she had begun in labour.
‘Has your husband done this?’ He saw her reluctant nod. ‘Has he harmed Susannah?’ I’ll kill him if he’s touched a hair of her head, he silently raged. ‘Where is she?’
She lifted her hand and shook it. ‘Wait!’ she muttered, and he realized that she was having difficulty in speaking because of her sore mouth. ‘My teeth are broken.’ She tenderly touched her chin. ‘And my jaw, I think.’ Tears started to flow down her face. ‘He kicked me and – I lost ’babby I was carrying. I’ve been – on my own.’ She pointed towards the wall. ‘Couldn’t mek anybody hear.’
‘Will your neighbour come in if I fetch her?’
‘Mrs Davison from South End. She’ll come.’ Jane spoke through swollen lips. ‘Don’t tell Wilf I told you.’ Her voice trembled. ‘He’ll come back again if you do.’
‘Not if he’s locked up, he won’t!’ Joseph retorted. ‘I’m going to inform the Welwick constable, and then I’ll ask the doctor to call. He’ll give evidence on how you’ve been abused.’
‘Such shame.’ Jane wept. ‘What would my ma think?’
Joseph bent towards her. ‘She’d think you were better off without him! Don’t worry about him coming back. I’ll send a locksmith with a new door bolt and chain to keep him out, but he’ll be in jail so you’ll be quite safe. Now,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me where Susannah has gone.’
She gave him a garbled account of Susannah’s having run away, and showed him the letter she had written, yet somehow he understood that Jane herself had suggested that she should leave. He said angrily that she should have sent for him, but realized after his outburst that she was too afraid of Topham to do that. Then she told him that her husband had taken the money meant for Susannah and had made her go to work at Enholmes mill.
‘And you say that she’s gone to Hull? But when was this? How long has she been gone?’
She seemed unsure. She had been too ill to notice the time passing. ‘It was a Sat’day, I know that,’ she pondered. ‘No, I think it was a Friday. Yes, it was Friday, cos I pretended to Wilf that she’d gone ’following day when I got home from work.’
Good God, he thought, and today is Thursday! She could be anywhere, and this poor woman could have died in that time.
‘Go back to bed, Mrs Topham, and I’ll fetch Mrs Davison,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about the expense if there is any. I’ll see to that, and I’ll put the other matters in hand. Ask Mrs Davison to stay with you until the doctor comes.’
He saw the grateful relief on her face and she mouthed ‘thank you’.
How do I set about fi
nding Susannah? He worried as he rode home. He’d asked the constable to call on Jane Topham and given him permission to come to the estate and arrest her husband; if he was still there, that was. Joseph had told his father that he didn’t want to keep Topham on after Martinmas. Arriving at Burstall House, he sent for Jack Terrison and asked him if he would call on Jane Topham the next day.
‘You’re a friend of the family, aren’t you?’ he asked, and when Terrison replied in an uncertain manner that he had known them for some time he said, ‘Ascertain if there’s anything she requires, will you? She’s had some trouble with her husband, but don’t tell Topham I said so. Don’t let him know that I’ve asked you to call.’
‘Can’t do that anyway, sir,’ Terrison said. ‘I’ve not seen him all week. I last saw him at Sunday dinner. I’ve been giving ’horse lads their instructions since then.’ He perked up his chin as if to proclaim that it was his right to do so.
‘Why the devil didn’t you come and tell me?’
Terrison shrugged. ‘Mr Ellis knew, sir. Topham had collected his wages from him. He was putting it round to ’other lads that he had summat important to do and was moving on. Said he wasn’t stopping in ’district.’
‘And I don’t suppose he mentioned his wife?’
‘I wasn’t there, but he told one of ’other lads that he was going to send for her when he was settled on another farm.’
Joseph gave a cynical grunt. He thought it was most unlikely, but at least she was well rid of him. But then what would she do for money?
‘Well, I’ve put the constable on his tail,’ he told Terrison. ‘He’s given his wife a beating which just about damn near killed her.’
Terrison looked alarmed. ‘Heck! And what about ’little lass, the one she looks after? Mary-Ellen’s daughter?’ He looked down at his feet. ‘I saw them one day; gave them a lift into Patrington.’
‘Apparently she’s left home,’ Joseph said abruptly. ‘To get away from Topham.’ He cast a dubious glance at his employee. Did the man guess that he was Susannah’s father? ‘If you should hear – if anyone says that they’ve seen her, perhaps you’d let me know? She’s very young to go off on her own.’
‘Old enough to work, sir. When I saw her and Jane, that’s where they were heading. To work at Enholmes.’
Was there scorn in his voice? Joseph wondered. If he did know about Susannah’s parentage, did he think that he, Joseph Ellis, had failed in his duty towards his child? Which I have, he considered. No matter that I gave money to cover expenses and material comforts, I most decidedly have failed as a father.
He told his parents what had happened; his mother was very shocked and said he must do what he could to find out what had happened to Susannah. His father nodded and asked if Arlette knew of the child.
‘No,’ Joseph said. ‘She doesn’t. I was about to tell her.’ He glanced at them both for a second, and said, ‘I was on the point of bringing Susannah home – here, I mean. The woman she is with – was with – I did not consider suitable.’
His father’s face went very red, and he spluttered, ‘Well, just as well the child has gone. It would have been intolerable for her here; what position would she have held? Arlette would never accept her, and nor would Julia. Have you not given thought to your sister’s feelings?’
‘Frankly, no, I haven’t,’ Joseph said tersely.
His mother interrupted and spoke to her husband. ‘I think, my dear, you underestimate Julia. She would be, would have been, considerate of the child.’ She turned to Joseph. ‘You must try to find out if she is safe, but be aware also, always supposing that you find her, that she may not want to come and live with you. You are a stranger to her, after all.’
That remark really hurt and he spent a sleepless night thinking of it. But the next morning, as he packed an overnight bag, he admitted to himself that his mother was right. Susannah didn’t know him. She knew only the people she had lived with for the last twelve years. They were her family; he wasn’t. He had left it too late.
Arlette was in France again, though she had gone alone this time and left all the boys behind. He slipped up to the top floor where they and their nursemaid had their rooms, before he left for his journey to Hull.
‘Papa!’ Austin piped plaintively from his bed. ‘I so wanted to go to France with Mama. There’s nothing to do here.’
‘I want to go the hirings fair, Papa,’ Philip said, and Matthew broke in, ‘Me too. Me too. Janet said we might.’
‘Well, you can’t,’ Joseph said. ‘You’re too young; you’ll get lost in the crowd. And besides, we’re not taking anyone on from the hirings this year.’ He looked at his eldest son. The boy was so much like his mother; he even had her way of talking and spoke with a French accent. ‘And you, Austin, must work hard at your lessons. In two years’ time, when you are nine, you must be ready for school.’
Austin pouted. ‘Don’t want to go. Shan’t go.’
‘You will go and that’s an end to it. Now, best behaviour, all of you. Do as Janet and Aunt Julia tell you. I have to go away for a couple of days and shall expect a good report on my return.’
Joseph left them all squabbling and then heard the maid’s voice chastising them and urging them to wash and dress before breakfast. He had had his breakfast early, and left the house to cross to the stables and saddle up his horse. He could have taken one of the traps or carriages, but he always preferred to ride. He saw Jack Terrison, who seemed to have grown in stature since being told that he was to be head waggoner, and called to him.
‘I’ll be away for a day or two,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing you need me for, is there?’
‘No, sir, everything’s fine,’ Terrison said. ‘I’ve moved young Marston from being Tommy Owt up to fifth lad. He’s good wi’ hosses and will make out well now that Topham’s left. He allus give him ’worst jobs but he ne’er complained.’
Joseph nodded. ‘You’d better get another least lad then. I wasn’t going to the hirings this year, but perhaps you could choose somebody? You’ll know best who’ll be suitable.’
Terrison squared his shoulders. ‘Aye, Mr Ellis. Just leave it to me. And I’ll slip to see Jane Topham while you’re away, and see if she needs owt.’
Joseph mounted his horse. At times like this he wished he still had Ebony. He wasn’t usually sentimental over animals, but Ebony had been special. He had sustained some injuries and had been put out to pasture as Joseph couldn’t bear to have him shot. Just occasionally he would ride him round the lanes of Holderness or down by the river bank and think of the times when he had ridden with Mary-Ellen behind him. He could swear that sometimes her presence was so close that he could feel her hair blowing against his face and the warmth of her body close to his.
He sighed. But that was then. Now he must try to find their daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
1856
‘Aunt Brewster!’ Susannah called across the yard. ‘Aunt Brewster! There’s a letter come for you. It looks like Mr Cannon’s hand.’
Mrs Brewster came out of the hen house with a basket of warm eggs. ‘Better open it then.’ She huffed and puffed as she came across to the house. ‘My word, but it’s hot this morning.’
‘Perhaps we should wash the blankets and winter curtains?’ Susannah said. ‘They’ll soon dry in this heat.’
‘Quite right,’ Mrs Brewster replied. ‘We generally do them in May, don’t we? But no reason why we shouldn’t wash them now if ’weather’s going to hold.’
‘It’s May already,’ Susannah told her. ‘You said yourself that the May blossom is out.’ The old lady was getting more and more forgetful.
‘Aye, so I did,’ she agreed. ‘Well there we are then. Come along, open ’letter. I know you’re wanting to.’
‘It’s addressed to you,’ Susannah said doubtfully. ‘It might be private.’
‘There’s nothing I’ll want to hide from you. It’ll be from Mr Cannon, like you say. He’ll be going walking to Spurn, I
expect, it’s that time o’ year, and staying wi’ town clerk.’
Susannah slit open the envelope with a kitchen knife. ‘I wonder if Freddie will come with him,’ she murmured, opening out the sheet. ‘“Dear Mrs Brewster,”’ she began to read aloud. ‘“Once again it is the time of year when I shall take a few days’ holiday in your delightful district. My son Frederick will journey with me and we shall, as before, reside with my good friend Arthur Iveson but take our supper with you, so as not to inconvenience his household. We shall require a goodly amount of meat: beef, lamb and chicken will be welcome, but not pork as it is now too late in the season. Frederick has also requested that you bake a rice pudding with nutmeg if that is convenient.
‘“I trust that you and Mr Brewster are in good health,”’ Susannah looked up and grinned, ‘“Yours sincerely, James Cannon.” And Freddie is coming too,’ she whooped in delight. ‘I’m so pleased! I did so miss seeing him last year when he couldn’t come.’
She had met Freddie Cannon in the first spring she had spent with the Brewsters. He was thirteen and had come walking with his father. After eating their meal at the Fleet Inn, Mr Cannon had walked back to Mr Iveson’s house in Hedon and Freddie had stayed behind to talk to Susannah. They’d wandered down by the beck and discussed many subjects: the estuary, the birds and the countryside.
He told her that his mother had died when he was seven, and that her best friend, a widow with a nine-year-old daughter, had come to live near them, so that the children could enjoy companionship and she could assist in his upbringing until he went away to school. ‘My father says that we must always be grateful to her for her kind support,’ he told her, ‘and of course I am. She writes regularly to me, as does Maria.’
