by Val Wood
‘Mama!’ Laura’s voice seemed to come from far away. ‘We are to go in.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Susannah said, coming back to the present. ‘But’ – she glanced at Edmund who was looking at her anxiously – ‘I’ve been here before.’
‘Have you?’ He seemed astonished. ‘So – do you know my grandfather?’
‘No. I think I might have met his mother. I’m not sure. It’s so long ago.’
‘Come and meet Aunt Julia,’ he said. ‘Perhaps she can shed light on it. My sister, Amy, is away visiting friends. But she asked me to give you her regards.’
He led them into the morning room, which was lit by bright sunshine; a fire blazed in the hearth and again Susannah’s memories stirred as she recalled another room with a fire, where Aunt Lol had sat and waited for her. But she gathered herself together when the older woman greeted her and they sat down as coffee was brought in.
‘Mrs Page thinks she has been here before, Aunt Julia,’ Edmund said. ‘She lived in Welwick when she was a child.’
‘Did you, my dear?’ Aunt Julia said. ‘Did we meet?’
Susannah shook her head. ‘I think perhaps I might have met your mother. Did she have a sitting room upstairs?’
‘Yes, she did! How remarkable! I use the room now as a sewing room and for writing letters. My own room becomes so cluttered otherwise. I’m not terribly tidy, I’m afraid. I take on too much, I suppose. At least that’s what everyone tells me.’ She gave a gentle smile, creasing her otherwise smooth face. ‘But it is important, don’t you think, Mrs Page, to do what we can for others?’
They talked of various subjects and then Julia said, ‘I can’t think what’s keeping Joseph. He said he would be in directly. He has been a little unwell lately, I fear. Would you care for more coffee? Though we shall be going in for dinner in half an hour.’ She chatted on as Susannah refused more coffee. ‘Do you dine late, Mrs Page? We always eat at midday. We are not at all fashionable. The men need it, you see, when they have had a hard morning. Edmund and his grandfather start very early and do a busy day’s work.’
‘We usually have a light luncheon,’ Susannah explained. ‘I’m often out attending to business matters, so we eat together in the evening, when my son James comes home from the bank.’
There was a brief pause, and then the door opened. ‘There you are, Joseph,’ Julia said. ‘We thought you were lost.’
I know him, Susannah thought. He looks familiar. Perhaps Edmund has his stamp; yet there is something more. He reminds me of – whom?
Joseph came towards them. ‘I beg your pardon for my lateness. I – I was unavoidably detained. How do you do, Mrs Page? Miss Page.’ He bowed stiffly and spoke in a breathless manner. ‘I trust I find you well?’
Susannah and Laura had both risen to their feet and inclined their heads. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Ellis,’ Susannah said, and was taken aback at the paleness of his cheeks and the anxiety so obvious in his eyes.
Joseph swallowed hard. How do I recover from this? What can I say to my daughter? He felt dizzy as he stood there in front of her. In front of Susannah.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
At the table the conversation was stilted and awkward. Joseph Ellis had little to say, and Susannah, glancing up from time to time, found him watching her intensely, whereupon, seeing he was observed, he would look away. Julia was the only one who seemed to be at ease and she chatted happily to Laura and Susannah, mainly about the weather and the social uncertainties of the times, whilst Edmund, when he could get a word in, gave Laura a brief history of the house.
After they had finished their meal they adjourned once more to the morning room. Joseph Ellis stood by the door for a moment, and then said, ‘Julia, could I ask you to entertain Miss Page? There’s something important I wish to discuss with Mrs Page.’
They all looked at him. There was a nervous intent in his eyes. Laura glanced at her mother. Edmund stared at his grandfather and Julia raised her eyebrows enquiringly, but with a gracious smile said, ‘Of course, my dear.’
Joseph led Susannah into a room at the end of the hall. It wasn’t large, but it was comfortably furnished with a sofa and armchairs and a number of small tables, all of which were strewn with books and farming catalogues. Heavy velvet curtains hung at the long windows, and a few pictures of country scenes on the walls, but there were no ornaments or other paraphernalia. Susannah assumed that this was where Joseph Ellis and his grandson came to relax at the end of a working day. A fire was burning in the grate and several logs and a brass hod of coal stood at the side of the hearth.
‘Please sit down,’ he said politely, indicating an armchair. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought you in here where we won’t be disturbed. I’d like to talk to you.’ His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. ‘You were born in Welwick,’ he said. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
‘I was,’ she said, and sat down as she was bid, glancing up at him in some concern. There was something familiar about him. He did remind her of someone.
‘Your mother died?’
She didn’t answer. The palms of her hand became hot and sticky and she rubbed them together.
‘You lived with your aunt, Mrs Marston?’
‘Aunt Lol,’ she murmured, and her heart began to hammer as if trying to jump out of her body. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Susannah,’ he said in a whisper.
She kept her eyes on his. She had looked up at him before. Her lips barely moved as she formed the words which were echoing in her head. Are you happy? He always asked her that. Each time he came he asked her if she was happy. His eyes always looked sad, his expression wistful. He gave her a sovereign, which she had kept.
‘Who are you?’
Her words were soft and hesitant. He remembered that she had always been a quiet child, softly spoken and polite. She was nothing like Mary-Ellen. But he realized that she was like someone. His mother and his sister. As gentle as they were.
‘Who are you?’ she repeated. ‘I know you. We’ve met before. When I was a child. You gave me a sovereign. You used to come to see Aunt Lol.’
He shook his head. ‘Not Aunt Lol.’ His voice was low. ‘I came to see you.’
‘Why?’
He saw her tremble. Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him and she barely blinked. He put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes for a second. He had always wanted to tell her. She must have had the question in her head all her life. And yet he had never dared. But now he must. For the sake of his grandson and her daughter, if not for himself.
‘Susannah, I am your father.’
Her face drained of colour and she began to shake. He bent over her. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. But I had to tell you.’
‘Why?’ The word was barely audible. ‘Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t someone tell me? I never heard … Why didn’t Aunt Lol tell me?’
‘Mistakes were made. My father …’ He swallowed. He wouldn’t tell her of the harsh words which were said. ‘I don’t want to blame him,’ he said. ‘He thought he was doing the right thing. He asked me how I could look after a child. A single man.’ He gazed sadly at her. ‘I should have tried. But I was ill after Mary-Ellen died. Bereft at her loss. There were times when I wanted to die too and I think my father knew that, though he wasn’t a man to show his emotions – except his temper,’ he added. ‘Mrs Marston knows best, he told me. She’ll bring her up with her family. And he was probably right. And …’ His eyes became moist and he kept swallowing as if he had something in his throat. ‘And each time I looked at you – I was reminded of her.’
‘Did – you love her?’ she asked. Her words seemed to be forced from her mouth. ‘Or was it guilt that you felt when you looked at me?’
‘I loved her more than life itself.’ He straightened up and walked to the window. ‘She lit up the dark by her presence – and when she died the light went out of my life. There’s barely a day goes by but
I think of her.’ He turned round to look at her. ‘And of you,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t think, Susannah, that you were ever abandoned, for you were not.’
‘You paid Aunt Lol to look after me?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t mean just that. I meant that you were always in my thoughts, and,’ he added, ‘especially so after you ran away. I searched for you. I trawled the streets of Hull looking for you, but you had gone. Disappeared.’
Her eyes flickered. ‘I ran away because of Wilf Topham,’ she said vaguely. ‘Aunt Jane’s husband.’ She shuddered. ‘He stole the money which your mother sent for my schooling and he said I must go to work or he would give me a leathering. But before that, I remember now, when Aunt Lol was alive, sometimes you came. You used to come on a black horse, and – you asked me if I was happy.’
He nodded. ‘Old Ebony. I asked you if you were happy because if you hadn’t been I would have brought you home – here. And then, when you were eleven, Mrs Marston said it would be best if I stopped going to see you. She said that you would start asking questions about why I came. And I had married by then.’ He gave a sigh which came from deep within him. ‘But I saw you again just after your aunt died.’
‘On the river bank,’ she interrupted. ‘I remember. Wilf Topham had sent me out of the house. I was frightened when I saw you. I didn’t know who you were.’
‘I was always there,’ he said. ‘Reliving memories of when I used to meet Mary-Ellen.’
‘What was she like?’ Her voice shook. ‘To look at, I mean? Hardly anyone talked about her. I only ever knew her name.’ Her mouth trembled. ‘Nothing else. And I so wanted a picture of her in my head.’
He gave a wistful smile. ‘She was like your daughter. Laura. When I saw Laura for the first time I thought I was seeing a ghost.’ His voice dropped. ‘I thought I was dying and that she had come for me at last. What are we going to do about them?’ he said. ‘About Edmund and Laura?’
Susannah raised her eyes to his; she seemed bewildered. ‘Do about them?’ she whispered. ‘What do you—’ Then realization dawned. ‘They have the same bloodline!’ He thought she was going to faint she went so white. ‘Put your head down,’ he told her. ‘Against your knees.’ He rushed to a cupboard and brought out a bottle of brandy and poured a little into a glass which was standing on a tray, then added some water from a covered jug and brought it to her. ‘Drink this,’ he said softly, putting his hand beneath her chin and raising her head. ‘It won’t help our dilemma but it might make you feel better.’ Then, with a trembling hand, he poured himself a larger measure, and sat down in a chair across from her.
She took a swallow. ‘They can’t marry,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t allow it. They are related. Laura is – is—’
‘My granddaughter, as Edmund is my grandson,’ he finished for her. ‘Fate couldn’t be more unkind. I saw how Edmund cared for her, but I hoped that over the winter when he didn’t see her, his passion would die. But it didn’t – it hasn’t. I tried to put off this visit; told him he should look for a wife amongst the farmers’ daughters we know.’ He shook his head. ‘But he is as stubborn as I always was.’ He gazed sadly at her. ‘I’ve done what I always longed to do, to claim my daughter; but Edmund will want to marry Laura and I am uneasy. I cannot, will not give my blessing, though he is of age and can do as he pleases.’
‘He hasn’t asked for her. At least – he hasn’t asked my permission.’ Susannah took another sip. Cognac. It was a good one, smooth not fiery, her innkeeper’s head told her. ‘But he might have asked Laura. They are too close,’ she said. ‘I would be so afraid.’ She gave a deep shuddering breath and her eyes were full of tears. ‘I’ve heard of such terrible things that can happen to children born in a marriage where there is a common ancestor. I can’t let it happen.’
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘But Edmund will argue.’
‘He can’t argue with me!’ She blinked fiercely. ‘Laura is not of age and I will not agree to it, even though …’ Her mouth trembled. ‘Even though I believe it to be a love match.’
‘Why didn’t you change your name?’ he said suddenly. ‘Or did you marry someone with the same name?’
Susannah put her chin up defiantly, and in that simple gesture he saw her mother. ‘I’m not a widow,’ she stated flatly. ‘I’ve never had a husband.’
Joseph gave an exclamation. ‘Never? But I understood that you went away to be married. The solicitor that you employ would never tell my agent where you were or what your name was.’
Her forehead creased. ‘Your agent? My solicitor? Mr Cannon, you mean? Mr Frederick Cannon?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘He guards you well. When his father ran the firm we were able to talk to him, through Watson of course, but when the son took over we could find out nothing except what he said was strictly our business.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, puzzled. ‘What are you talking about, Mr Ellis?’
He drew in a breath. What else could she call him? She was hardly going to call him Father, when she didn’t even know him. ‘The Fleet Inn,’ he explained. ‘I bought that for you, as security in case anything happened to me.’ He spoke quietly. ‘As I said, I searched for you after you ran away from Welwick, and couldn’t find you. It wasn’t until some years later that someone said he thought he’d seen you at the Fleet. So I came to look. And I saw you. You were spring cleaning, Mrs Brewster said. And I heard you singing!’ He took another drink from his glass. ‘I knew then that you were all right.’ His voice was husky. ‘That you were cared for. So I bought the inn. And then I deposited money for your twenty-first birthday.’
‘Which I used towards paying a manager, and bought the inn in Beverley,’ she said slowly. ‘I put the money back into the Fleet when the Beverley inn was making a profit. But I’m the leaseholder,’ she said abruptly. ‘I don’t own it.’
‘You do.’ He nodded. ‘It’s in your name. Mr Cannon has the documents.’
Dearest Freddie, she thought. This is the reason he went into law. He did it so that he could look after me and my future. A sudden rush of emotion swept over her. He couldn’t marry me, so this was the next best thing, and now – Laura and Edmund. She started to weep. Her head ached. It was all too much to bear.
‘Please don’t cry, Susannah.’ Joseph got up from his chair and bent over her again. ‘I want to weep with joy that I’ve found you after all these years. Confessing to you that I’m your father has lifted a huge weight from my mind.’ He took the empty glass from her and placed it on a table and then put his large hand over hers. ‘I want to love you as my daughter, to tell you about your mother. But first of all we must break the news to Laura and Edmund and, in doing so, shatter their lives as ours were shattered.’
He gazed at her as she sat weeping copious tears. ‘You said you were never married. Do your children know who their father is? Have you told them?’
She wiped her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said with a sob. ‘But only recently. Their father’s love has sustained me since I was just a girl. But he was pledged to someone else, and as he is a good and honourable man he wouldn’t break that bond. Now he’s widowed and we’ll marry after his mourning period is over.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘It’s Mr Cannon. I’ve always loved him and he has always cared for our children. He has always been there when they needed him, though they thought he was a friend, not that he was their father. But now …’ She drew in a shuddering breath, and a sudden thought came to her that Freddie had tried to put off this visit to the Ellises. Had he guessed or did he know that Joseph Ellis was her father? ‘We must tell Edmund and Laura. Shall we tell them together, or separately?’
He put out his hand to her and gently raised her to her feet. ‘We’ll tell them together, Susannah,’ he said softly. ‘We must act as one in this.’ He bent and kissed her wet cheek. ‘Be brave,’ he said, his voice tender. ‘As I know you can be.’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Edmund stood for a moment as if stunned. T
hen he began to rant and rave at his grandfather, telling him that he had ruined his life and that he would never forgive him. ‘How could you keep this a secret for so long?’ he shouted. ‘Your conduct has been appalling!’
Joseph said nothing. He just stood at Susannah’s side and waited for Edmund’s shock to subside. It was like history repeating itself. He could recall very clearly shouting at his father when he had said that he shouldn’t marry Mary-Ellen.
Laura seemed bewildered and her face had paled at the news, but she braced herself and kissed her mother, and then, turning to Joseph, dipped her knee and reached up to kiss him too. She saw him start and take a sudden breath, and then he murmured, ‘Thank you, Laura.’
‘You’re not simply accepting this?’ Edmund asked her bitterly. ‘They say we can’t marry. Our lives are ruined and yet you kiss him!’
‘Please don’t raise your voice to me,’ she said coldly, though her voice trembled. ‘We are not promised to each other. We have merely exchanged letters. You have not asked me to marry you; you simply assumed that I would. And if Mama says we cannot – that she won’t give her permission, and I understand why – then we must accept the facts.’
But I would have consented, she thought miserably. I would have made him wait, of course, had he asked me. I would have kept him in suspense so that he wouldn’t have been too sure of me. But I would have married him. I wanted to.
‘I’m sorry!’ He was immediately penitent. ‘I should not have taken your consent for granted. But you know that I love you.’ Tears were in his eyes and he reached for her hand, but she drew it away. ‘I’ve told you that I do. Told you that I want you to be my wife.’ He looked desperately at Susannah. ‘I was going to ask today for your permission; I wanted you to come and meet Grandfather and Aunt Julia and know how we lived, and …’ He pressed his hand across his forehead, trying not to weep. ‘And now you say it’s impossible.’ He looked across at his grandfather, and dashed away his tears. ‘You knew,’ he said accusingly. ‘You knew all the time!’
