The Innkeeper's Daughter

by Val Wood

  He rode Bonny on the sands most days, but during the last week before returning to London, when their father had come downstairs and Jamie’s sisters were taking it in turns to entertain him, Jamie decided he would take a trip into Hull. He said he wanted to visit Mrs Button, his former landlady; his pretext was to ask her about a missing book which he might have left behind at her lodging house.

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ his father growled. ‘Send a postcard, can’t you, rather than travelling twenty miles in this foul weather?’

  ‘I thought I’d take the brougham if it isn’t needed,’ Jamie continued. ‘I need to buy a few things before I return.’ He hoped that Mary didn’t suggest that she came too, but she didn’t; she was bored with her brothers and a ride into Hull on a cold wet day did not appeal to her one bit. All she wanted now that the Christmas festivities were over was to get back to school and her friends as quickly as possible.

  ‘Don’t you want me to drive you, sir?’ Bob Hopkins asked the night before his excursion. ‘I’m not needed for much at ’minute.’

  ‘No, it’ll mean you hanging about,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve a few things to do, people to see, you know,’ and he knew that he had disappointed him.

  He left at six o’clock the next morning after an early breakfast, dressed in a long fur-trimmed coat which he had purchased two years before to combat the damp London weather, breeches rather than trousers, a thick flannel shirt beneath his waistcoat and jacket, leather boots, and a beaver top hat. Frances and Mary were still in bed and he saw Mrs Greenwood taking up a tray of tea to his father. His brother was his usual grumpy morning self, volunteering only a grunt.

  Hopkins had brought out the carriage and harnessed one of the mares. He told Jamie he would exercise Bonny later that morning, and it was seeing his expression of resignation that gave Jamie an idea.

  ‘Have you ever thought that you might like to do something else one day?’ he asked as he climbed up on to the box seat and took up the reins.

  ‘Like what, sir? I know nowt else but hosses. Besides,’ he patted his lame leg, ‘folks look at me an’ think I’m an imbecile, as if me brains are in me legs.’ He gave a grim laugh as he spoke, but Jamie knew he wasn’t joking. ‘But,’ Hopkins went on, ‘if you ever hear of some young doctor feller wanting a groom or a driver then you can put me name for’ard.’

  Jamie smiled and nodded. ‘I will.’ He shook the reins. ‘It might take a few years yet, but I’ll keep it in mind,’ and was rewarded with a great grin on Bob Hopkins’s face.

  The fastest time he could hope to make was three and a half hours; he had done it in less when riding Bonny, but the brougham was old and quite heavy and he didn’t want to overtax the mare. It was just after nine thirty when he negotiated the heavy press of waggons, drays and carts and pulled in through the archway and cobbled courtyard of the Cross Keys Hotel in Market Place and asked the stable lad to uncouple the horse and give her water and hay.

  The owner, William Varley, was in the hall and greeted Jamie as he went towards the coffee room, saying he would send the maid to him with a jug of coffee and a slice of pie. The ancient hostelry had been a coaching inn, the largest in the town; it still advertised as such beneath the hoarding depicting a large pair of crossed keys, but since the advent of the railway that trade had declined, although the local carriers and some long-distance coaches to Lincoln, York and London still called there. Nowadays it was known as a family and commercial establishment.

  ‘Do you by any chance know of a woman innkeeper who’s come into Hull recently?’ Jamie asked him before he turned to go into the taproom. ‘I don’t know the name of the hostelry, but it might be a ship or a fish,’ he added light-heartedly.

  Varley considered and then said, ‘You could try ’High Street; there’s ’Edinburgh Packet or ’Golden Fleece along there.’ He laughed. ‘Funny sort o’ fish, but it could’ve been a ship.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ll try them. It’s just that I’ve got a message for her, if I can find her.’

  When he’d finished eating he left the inn and visited his former landlady so that he could truthfully say he had called, but the query concerning a missing book which he had indeed lost was a complete fabrication, as he knew it had disappeared since he moved to London. Mrs Button was pleased to see him, but as she was her usual bustling self with little time to waste, he spent only a quarter of an hour with her, merely asking if anything much had happened in the town since he had left.

  ‘You’ll have come in to ’new Paragon station on ’train, I expect, didn’t you, sir? And ’new Station Hotel was opened in November. My word,’ she said admiringly. ‘You must tek a look at that.’ She preened slightly and lowered her voice. ‘It just so happens that my late husband’s cousin’s husband is one of ’commissionaires and he let me in to have a peek at ’foyer.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful! It’s got a glass roof and pillars and arches and is big enough to have a ball in. A hundred and sixty rooms it’s got and’ – she screwed up her mouth – ‘seemingly there was a banquet for ’directors and ’elite of ’town on ’day it was opened. It’s a good showpiece for Hull,’ she said. ‘For them as can afford to stay. It’ll knock ’Cross Keys off its perch all right.’

  Jamie nodded in agreement; he had seen the hotel when he arrived by train. It could hardly be missed, being such a palatial three-storey building in the centre of the town. But that wasn’t what he was looking for.

  ‘So anything for the likes of us poor folk, Mrs Button? No new publicans or innkeepers come to town?’

  ‘Not that I’ve heard, Mr Lucan, but then I’m generally too busy for gossip.’

  And at that remark Jamie knew that he must leave and explore the hostelries for himself, and there were so many, over three hundred he had once been told, that he knew he had an enormous task in front of him. He walked towards his old school, pausing for a moment to gaze at the time-worn red bricks and give silent thanks towards those who had taught and encouraged him in his education. He wondered if he would make a mark on the world as some of the former pupils had: the poet Andrew Marvell; the great emancipator and parliamentarian William Wilberforce, and others who although not achieving such international acclaim had nevertheless influenced many people during their lives.

  He called at the inns in High Street, but there was no one there that he recognized, and then remembered two other inns he used to pass and put his head inside the door of one on the pretext that he was searching for someone; it was packed with customers and two men were serving at the counter, but no women or girls. In the second one there was a man and a woman serving, and as they were not so busy he sidled up to the woman and asked her if she knew of an innkeeper by the name of Thorp. She said that she didn’t.

  He meandered through the town, looking through windows and doorways in the vain hope of seeing someone he knew and wondering what to do and where to go next, and found himself in Paragon Street, the road leading to the railway station and the new hotel, a good walk back to the Cross Keys Hotel where he had left the brougham. He stepped into a doorway to avoid the jostling of people hurrying to get out of the rain or more likely rushing to catch a train and stood for a moment while he considered. There was much more to the town than just the streets around Market Place and the church which he had known from school. Many more streets than he was familiar with; the town was spreading rapidly north and west.

  His father had been right, he reluctantly conceded, the weather was foul, sleet turning to snow. He decided that he would visit the shops nearby and purchase what he needed – ink, sealing wax, writing paper and envelopes, new shirts and stocks – and then make his way home again, a longer journey this time as it would be dark before he arrived.

  It’s a pity, he thought, disappointment making him hunch into his fur collar. I’d have liked to see Bella again. He thought of her thick black hair, her rosy country-girl cheeks, and shy but smiling eyes. But it’s three years since I last called at the Woodma
n. I was just another customer, after all, and they wouldn’t have made much of a profit out of my occasional glass of mild. She’ll be grown up – what, seventeen maybe – and will have forgotten about me by now.

  The family had moved from the Woodman on a foggy November day. They had hired two covered waggons for their furniture. Joe drove one with Alice perched beside him, and a customer had offered to drive the other. Bella took the reins of a one-horse trap lent by someone in the village, which held her, her mother, Nell and Henry and a bundle of bedding. Joe would have to come back later and collect what they couldn’t pack into the waggons this time. They had left behind the donkey and the hens, and Johnson the former plumber had promised to feed them until new tenants moved in.

  Some of the villagers had come out to see them off, waving goodbye and wishing them good luck. Bella felt very emotional and her mother muttered that she hoped they were doing the right thing.

  ‘Too late now, Ma.’ Bella wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks. ‘Die is cast.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Nell said from the back of the cart where she sat amongst the bundles of bedding with Henry on her knee.

  ‘It means that there’s no going back, that ’dice has been thrown.’

  ‘Good,’ Nell muttered. ‘I shan’t want to go back. I’m looking forward to doing summat else and it won’t be throwing dice.’ She began humming a tune. ‘As soon as we get there I’m going to call at some of ’theatres and see if—’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Sarah suddenly asserted herself. ‘You’ll help to get things up and running, miss. Don’t think that ’rest of us are going to be doing everything and that you’re doing nowt. Besides, you’re too young for ’stage. Your father’ll be turning in his grave.’

  ‘But, Ma!’

  ‘Ma nothing,’ her mother said sharply. ‘You’ll do as I say and work for your living like ’rest of us do.’

  Nell was silenced, but Bella was sure that her sister would be scheming over some plan to do what she really wanted. Nell was much more grown up, more sure of herself, than she had ever been. She’ll get her own way, eventually, Bella thought. Ma will give in to her demands.

  When they arrived at the Maritime, the brewery had made some effort to clean it up. The alleyway had been cleared of rubbish and the inside had been cleaned and the walls whitewashed. Carter was there, and even he had benefited from a bath and a haircut. He told them that he had supervised the men in their tasks; they weren’t sure whether to believe him until he took them on a tour of the building.

  ‘Is this it?’ Sarah demanded. ‘I can’t believe that Bart would say that this was a good place. It’s a mess! What have I done?’ She began to weep. ‘Whatever would your father think? He allus thought I was a sensible woman.’ She took a sobbing breath. ‘And clearly I’m not. I’ve ruined us all!’

  ‘It’ll be all right, Ma,’ Bella comforted her. ‘We’ll soon get it looking something like.’

  ‘Course we will.’ Joe joined in. ‘Soon have it lookin’ shipshape so that it matches its name.’

  Alice had bent down into a corner. ‘Floor’ll need another scrub,’ she said. ‘It’s not been cleaned very well.’ She looked accusingly at Carter. ‘There’re feathers down here and summat a bit grimy.’ She pulled a face. ‘It needs carbolic, soft soap and some elbow grease.’

  ‘Ah well,’ Carter said. ‘They used to hold cock fights here, dog fights an’ all. Place was shut down a few times when authorities got wind of ’em.’

  Bella groaned. ‘No wonder that ’brewery wanted somebody to tek it on. Did you get ’tenancy cheap, Ma?’

  Sarah nodded. It was as if she had had all the stuffing knocked out of her, just as she had when Joseph had died.

  ‘Right.’ Bella made a decision, mentally rolling up her sleeves. ‘Let’s get ’furniture inside. We’ll put it all in one room until we get ’place cleaned out and whitewashed again. Let’s start upstairs and then we can get ’beds moved in. Alice, will you—’

  ‘I’ll do owt you want,’ Alice said. ‘Shall me and Nell go upstairs and brush cobwebs off ’ceilings and wash ’windows?’ She seemed eager and willing and Bella felt a huge relief that she had come with them. They hadn’t spoken of wages; Alice said she would be satisfied with bed and board in return for being somewhere she was appreciated and felt safe, and if in time she received a wage she would send some of it home to her mother.

  ‘Carter!’ Bella said. ‘If you want a job then you can start by helping my brother bring ’furniture inside. We can’t pay you until we’re open for business, but we’ll feed you. But we’ll expect you to pull your weight, otherwise you’ll leave.’

  Carter bit on his lip and then nodded. ‘I need a chance,’ he said. ‘You’ll have gathered I’m a bit of a drunk, but I’m honest except when I’m in drink and then I’d do owt to pay for a glass of ale.’

  Bella glanced at Joe, who averted his eyes. Then she said to Carter, ‘This might not be ’right sort of place for you then. There’s a good deal of temptation working in a hostelry.’

  ‘I know, miss, but I’ll do me best an’ I won’t hold it against you if I relapse and you give me ’sack.’

  ‘Which we will.’ Bella was careful to say we and not I. I mustn’t forget, she told herself, that Ma is the innkeeper and not me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  IT WAS JUST over a week later that the rest of their belongings, which Joe had collected from the Woodman, were carried down the alleyway of the Maritime. Bella stood outside keeping a watch on the waggon and looked up at the front of the building, wondering why it was that only a side entrance was in use, which was most inconvenient. She narrowed her eyes. There were windows right at the very top, just under the eaves in the front bedrooms and also in the roof space, in a long room similar to the one they had had in the Woodman where the farm labourers had lodged. As her eyes swept down the walls she saw the outlines of the bricked-up windows, just as Carter had said. And a bricked-up door, and to the right of that on the footpath were the trap doors leading to a coal cellar and a beer cellar, the inside entrance to which they had yet to find.

  ‘Joe,’ she called down the alleyway. ‘Joe, come here a minute. I want to show you something.’

  He came back, dusting his hands on his trousers. ‘What?’

  ‘Look at ’windows.’ She pointed. ‘Do you think ’brewery would let us open them up? And see, ’front door’s been bricked up as well. Why do you think that was done? Doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Because.’ A voice came from behind them and they turned to see Reuben Jacobs smiling at them. He put his finger to his top hat in greeting. ‘I told you, I think, that it was not a gut place!’

  ‘Hello! How nice to see you again,’ Bella said enthusiastically. ‘So, do you know why, Mr Jacobs? It seems a very odd thing to do.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, it is a very old building and one would think that the obvious reason would be because of the window tax.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Bella said. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘It was put on buildings with more than ten windows. Nobody liked paying it; they said they were being robbed of light and air.’

  ‘Daylight robbery!’ Joe said. ‘That’s what they called it.’

  ‘Ja.’ Reuben Jacobs smiled. ‘That’s why people bricked up some of their windows, to avoid paying the tax. But these windows were bricked up only ten or so years ago, so perhaps that was not the reason. More likely I think because of the cock fighting.’

  ‘Carter told us about that,’ Joe said. ‘Dog fighting too.’

  ‘By bricking up the windows and door,’ Jacobs went on, ‘these illicit goings-on were, how do you say, out of sight and out of mind, and I am inclined to think that the authorities did not look too closely. The inn continued to sell alcohol during the day, but at night time they would have made money out of the fights, and I mean knuckle fighting also, more than they would from alcohol.’

  ‘Oh de
ar,’ Bella said bleakly. ‘It gets worse and worse. It’ll take a long time to be rid of such a reputation and make this an honest business with a good name.’

  ‘I think not too long,’ Mr Jacobs said. ‘For a start you could open up the windows again – you know, do you not, that the tax on windows has been abolished only this year?’

  ‘No.’ Bella shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Well, it has, and perhaps you could ask the brewery to help you with the cost?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Jacobs, you are so good to us,’ Bella said. ‘Would you like to come inside and meet our mother?’

  ‘I would,’ he said courteously. ‘It would be a great pleasure.’

  Sarah was unpacking a crate of glasses. ‘I don’t know where to put all this lot,’ she began as they went into the room which would eventually be the kitchen. ‘Joe, you’ll have to put up more shelves and cupboards.’

  ‘Ma,’ Bella said. ‘This is Mr Jacobs. Do you remember I told you about him?’

  Sarah turned in surprise. Mr Jacobs took off his hat and putting his hand to his chest gave her a gallant bow.

  ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, madam,’ he said. ‘It has been my pleasure to encounter your son and daughter and it is most agreeable to meet their mother.’

  Sarah dipped her knee. ‘Pleased to meet you too, sir. Bella told me of ’help you gave them on their first visit. You must think me very foolish to tek on such a place without coming to see it first.’ She furrowed her forehead anxiously as she spoke. ‘I don’t know what ever got into me.’

  ‘I fear you were misled, madam,’ Reuben replied gravely. ‘But you are wiser today than you were yesterday, and so all is not lost. This dwelling could once more become a place of good repute.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say so,’ Sarah said. ‘But I’m sure I don’t know where to start.’