The Innkeeper's Daughter

by Val Wood

  ‘And are you considering marrying somebody, Bella?’ William raised a smile. ‘You’ve grown into a right bonny lass; even I can see that and I’m your brother.’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘though I think I might have an admirer.’

  ‘Ho ho! I’d best tek a look at him and see if I approve,’ he said, and from his tone she gathered he wasn’t really joking.

  ‘I’ll make my own mind up, thank you,’ she said pertly. ‘I make my own decisions nowadays.’

  William gazed at her in admiration. ‘You’re a marvel, Bella, running your own life and business; I know it’s you and not Ma. Would you still like to be a schoolteacher?’

  ‘Not now.’ She smiled. ‘I feel as if I’ve achieved so much here, more than I could ever have hoped for as a teacher’s assistant, for it’s doubtful that I’d have become a proper teacher. But I’ve taught Henry,’ she added. ‘He could read and write before he started school and he’s a very clever child. He won’t really be a singer; he’s only saying that because he sang in front of ’queen. But now it’s your turn. Tell me about your injuries and how you got home.’

  William told her briefly what had happened, not about the bloodier aspects of fighting but mainly about being shipped back to England with a broken leg and being in fear of losing his injured foot. ‘I would have done,’ he said, ‘but for two young doctors treating me, and oddly enough one had only got caught up in the debacle because he’d gone to look for his friend.’ He shook his head. ‘He died out in Scutari, apparently.’

  ‘The doctor did?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘How was that?’

  ‘Bad conditions,’ he said bluntly. ‘You wouldn’t believe— anyway, when I got back to Blackwall this other doctor had been seconded to help, even though he said he didn’t know if he’d qualified.’ He grinned. ‘I told him he was a quack!’

  His grin faded and he became thoughtful, laying his head back on the sofa. ‘There was something odd though. Although he made no claim to being a qualified doctor because he was waiting for his exam results, Sergeant Thomas – he was in charge of ’wounded – had persuaded him to stay and help out wi’ lesser wounded like me, and those who were being shipped back to Scutari.’

  Lesser wounded! Bella looked at William’s splinted leg, swollen ankle and seeping bandage which needed changing again, and shuddered to think what pain some of the wounded might be bearing.

  ‘So what was odd?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, Sergeant Thomas called him Dr James, but I went back with him to his London lodgings so as I could rest afore ’journey home and, poor chap, there was a letter waiting for him to say his father had died, and another to say he’d passed his exams and was a doctor after all.’

  Bella hoped this tale wasn’t going to take much longer, as there were the luncheon menus to attend to.

  ‘But he went out for summat,’ William continued. ‘I can’t say what, an’ honestly I didn’t mean to be nosy or owt, but I happened to notice that one of ’letters on ’small table near where I was lying down was addressed not to Dr James like Sergeant Thomas called him, but to Dr Lucan; and ’general in charge of ’cavalry was Major General Lucan, so mebbe he didn’t want anybody to know he was a relation of his.’

  Bella’s concentration had started to slip as she knew she would have to cut William’s discourse short and go into the hotel, even though Mondays were not quite as busy as the rest of the week, but now her attention was caught and although she had missed some of his conversation the words Holderness, gentleman farmer and the name Lucan jumped out.

  ‘Did you tell him you were from Holderness?’

  ‘He sort of guessed, I think; he said he recognized the accent as being East Yorkshire. Odd, that. You wouldn’t know ’difference between it and ’rest of Yorkshire, would you, if you hadn’t lived nearby?’

  ‘No,’ Bella agreed. ‘You wouldn’t. I wonder why he didn’t say?’

  She left William and went to continue her duties, but she couldn’t seem to settle. Could it have been Jamie Lucan? It seems such a coincidence. But why didn’t he say? Surely he was not too proud to admit he once knew us; William said he told him he would call again to see him. I wonder if he will. He doesn’t have to, of course; his obligation to get William home is over.

  Reuben was introduced to William a few days later; the older man was very concerned about William’s foot injury and suggested that his mother should take off the bandage, which looked very tight. He drew in a breath when he saw the swollen ankle and seeping pus coming from the wound, and recommended that Sarah should bathe his foot in salt water and put on a clean bandage.

  ‘I don’t want to interfere, William,’ he said, noting the young man’s pallid face. ‘And I’m not a medical man, but I really think you should get a doctor to look at it. I do know a reliable one if you should—’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ William interjected. ‘It’s painful, I admit, but this young doctor who brought me home said he’d call when he got back to Hull.’

  Reuben frowned. ‘Did he say when that would be?’

  William shook his head. ‘No. He had his father’s funeral to go to, on Wednesday I think it was. What day is it today? I seem to have lost track.’

  ‘It’s Friday,’ Reuben reminded him. ‘So he might have stayed to attend to family matters. There are generally things to do after a funeral.’

  ‘Aye, that’s right,’ William said, remembering his father’s. ‘Loads o’ stuff to sort out. Still, folks like his will be organized, I expect.’

  ‘Well-to-do, are they?’ Reuben enquired. ‘He might not be here before next week, and you really ought—’

  ‘Aye, I think so.’ William shied away from the idea of any other doctor treating the wound. He was more scared than he would admit of losing his foot, but he put his faith in the young doctor to do what was best for him, inexperienced though he was. ‘Farmers, I think they are. From somewhere in Holderness.’

  ‘Not the Lucan family, by chance?’

  ‘Aye, I believe so. Do you know them?’

  ‘No, I don’t, but there was an obituary in the newspaper. I’d heard of him; very well known in his district. A successful man, from all accounts.’

  Reuben saw that William was tiring and in pain and asked if he had any medication he could take; when William said he had, he left him to get some rest.

  He saw Bella on the way out. He told her, because he felt he knew her well enough to be honest, that both her brothers were obstinate young men. ‘William should have a doctor to look at his injuries,’ he said. ‘He has in mind to wait for this young doctor to call, but he might not. He will have other things on his mind, especially if he has just lost his father.’

  Bella nodded. ‘What should we do, Reuben?’

  The old man pondered. ‘It’s his decision, of course, but if he were my son I’d wait for a few days only and if he seems no better, or is sweating or delirious, I’d override him and send for a medical man.’

  Bella gazed at him. Reuben didn’t mince his words; he always said what he thought. He was teasing his grey beard as he stood there, a sure sign that he was concerned.

  ‘Who?’ she asked. ‘Who should we send for, Reuben? We’ve never had to use a doctor since we came to live in Hull.’

  ‘You could use mine,’ he said. ‘He’s a good man. Kind and considerate and knows what he’s doing. If you should need him send Adam, he’ll know where to go. To Dr Birchfield in Albion Street.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  DR BIRCHFIELD TOLD Jamie that he had arranged to take him on a visit to the General Infirmary the next day to view the facilities. It was only a five-minute walk from the doctor’s house in Albion Street. Jamie had seen it from the outside as he had walked there whilst still a student at the Grammar School, when he had first considered a medical career.

  The doctor had also told Jamie he was welcome to stay with him until such time as he had given serious thought to the direction he might take. Jamie had already written
to Sergeant Thomas to tell him that because of family circumstances he wouldn’t be returning to Blackwall. He was a little disappointed that Dr Birchfield hadn’t suggested he join him, until reason took over. I’ve only recently qualified, I have little or no experience, and he also knows that I’m still reeling from the consequences of my father’s death. Perhaps he’s assessing my worth, he thought practically; after all, he only knows me from my childhood.

  Nevertheless, he had to speak to someone and he decided to take the doctor into his confidence, for there was no one else. The next evening, after a supper of tough, overcooked beef and watery potatoes, during which he reminisced sadly over Mrs Hopkins’s cooking, he asked if he might speak to him on a personal matter and ask his advice.

  They sat in the drawing room beside a low fire and Jamie told Dr Birchfield the sorry tale of his father’s Will and the blow that he and his sisters had received.

  ‘I know that eventually I will earn a living and for now I can live within my means; I’ve been doing so in London whilst studying and if I work here in the north it should be more economical. But my sisters – they will have virtually nothing as a dowry! The money they’ve been left will have dwindled away by the time they are of an age to marry.’

  Dr Birchfield sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. Then he pressed his lips together as if wondering whether to say something. He cleared his throat.

  ‘I may be quite wrong, but I have an uneasy feeling that there has been some malpractice here.’ He rested his chin on his clasped hands. ‘I have no good reason for thinking this, except that somewhere in the back of my memory I recall your mother telling me, when she realized that I could do no more for her, that “Roger will always look after the children, doctor, I have no fears on that score.”’ He gazed keenly at Jamie. ‘Your father would never have done anything to betray your mother’s trust. I’m convinced of it.’

  ‘I feel you are right, sir,’ Jamie said huskily. ‘He became difficult and cantankerous after her death, but now I am older I think he was probably grieving and then bitter over her loss, especially as he was left with all of us to care for.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘Something must have made him change his mind.’

  ‘Mm,’ Birchfield muttered. ‘Or else it was changed for him.’ He put up a finger. ‘Not that I am suggesting anything under-hand, but …’

  But what, Jamie wondered? He has suggested malpractice. He stared at the doctor, who rubbed his chin and gazed back at him before turning his face away. He has raised a doubt in my mind. But what should I do?

  ‘Speak to your father’s lawyer.’ It was as if Birchfield had read his thoughts. ‘If he wrote the original Will, he would surely have questioned your father as to the reason for changing it.’

  Jamie slumped into his chair. It wasn’t Smithers, our family lawyer, but his assistant, Binks, who said he had met my father only once. Was that when the Will was changed?

  ‘I don’t want to accuse …’ he began, ‘but …’

  ‘Your sisters,’ Birchfield said quietly. ‘You owe it to them to find out the truth.’

  ‘Are you all right, William?’ Sarah bent in concern over her son. Bella was finishing off the tables in the saloon in preparation for the morning, whilst Carter was clearing the bar area. The girl who helped him had gone home; it was late, and she had stayed on well over her time. Since the royal visit they had been incredibly busy with many new customers.

  The guests who had come especially for the queen’s progress had turned out to be dignitaries from Lincolnshire, and although they had left on the Saturday evening after Her Majesty had sailed away from the pier the rooms had immediately been taken by other people come for the royal occasion, who had decided to stay over a few days and had had the Maritime accommodation recommended to them. Now they too had gone, and everyone breathed a sigh of satisfaction as well as relief that life could get back to something like normal.

  Bella had been very pleased with Carter’s behaviour and was delighted by his polite response to the customers; her fears that he might let her down were fading.

  ‘Yeh, I’m all right, Ma,’ William told his mother, although he knew that he wasn’t. ‘Just aching a bit. Can you pass me that bottle o’ pills and a glass o’ water? They’ll put me right.’

  Sarah frowned and looked at the clock. It didn’t seem long since his last dose, and she wished she’d taken more notice of the time. But she did his bidding, and knowing how he would hate a fuss said she hoped he had a good night and took herself off to bed.

  ‘Can I do owt for you, sir?’ Adam asked. As soon as the soldier settled he too would curl up on his palliasse and go to sleep. He was dead tired, he’d been at everyone’s beck and call all day, not that he was complaining, since he reckoned he was the luckiest lad alive to be living and working here, and he adored Miss Bella.

  ‘I wish you could,’ William muttered. His hands trembled as he shook out his pills and swallowed them, and water spilled from the glass. ‘I’m in agony, if I’m honest, but don’t you go telling my ma!’

  ‘I could run for ’doctor,’ Adam suggested. ‘Five minutes it’d tek me, no longer.’

  William brushed aside the idea and brusquely told him to go to bed, which he did, pulling the straw mattress in front of the range and taking off his boots before he lay down; but he didn’t sleep and for ten minutes waited to see if William dropped off into slumber. But the corporal writhed about, groaning and muttering; he seemed unaware of Adam’s presence, so the boy uncurled himself and in his bare feet padded through to the saloon.

  Carter was putting on his coat and Bella was standing with her hands on her hips looking round the room, checking to see that everything was all right for the night; all the candles out, the lamps turned down, the bar counter covered over with clean cloths.

  ‘Miss Bella,’ Adam said softly, not wanting to make her jump. She turned, surprised to see him there.

  ‘Is something wrong, Adam?’

  ‘Not sure, miss, but Corporal William seems unwell to me.’

  Carter was buttoning his coat, but he paused in the act.

  ‘Do you mean he’s in pain?’ Bella asked the boy, her forehead creasing anxiously.

  ‘He told me he was in agony, but not to tell his mother; but,’ he added, ‘he didn’t say owt about not telling you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bella murmured. ‘You did right. I’d better come. Carter, I’ll – I’ll lock up now.’

  ‘I’ll wait, Miss Bella,’ Carter said. Usually he was the last to leave and Bella locked and bolted the door behind him. He turned the key in the door and pulled out one of the chairs from a table; he didn’t normally come through to the living area. ‘There’s no hurry,’ he insisted. ‘I’ll sit here. You might need a strong pair of hands.’

  ‘We might,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  She followed Adam through to the kitchen and then stopped. William was lying half on, half off, the mattress, doubled up and clutching his ankle, his face creased in pain.

  She knelt beside him. ‘William,’ she breathed. ‘It’s Bella. Tell me what I can do.’

  ‘Nowt!’ he muttered. ‘I’m done for. My foot’s on fire. I thought I could bear it, but I can’t. I don’t want to lose it! Why hasn’t he come? He said he would.’ He let out a sound between a scream and a groan. ‘He said he would come. He promised! I trusted him.’

  Bella stood up, her decision made. She urgently flicked her fingers at Adam, who came and stood behind William where he couldn’t see him. ‘Ask Carter to come in,’ she whispered. ‘I need him to get William back into bed, and then run as fast as you can to fetch Dr Birchfield. You know where he lives?’

  ‘Yes, miss. He’s Mr Jacobs’s doctor.’ Adam’s feet were already shifting, tapping as if ready to sprint, and it wasn’t until he had dashed to the saloon to fetch Carter that Bella realized he’d gone barefoot.

  Jamie was sitting on the edge of his bed, considering what Birchfield had advised. Perhaps if I go to see the l
awyer and discuss my fears; I needn’t take it any further than that. Felix wouldn’t surely have intended any mischief towards his sisters. And yet he had misgivings. Felix liked to impress, he always had; he wanted people to think he was important, a person of substance and consequence. Perhaps that was it. He would have wanted to give an illusion of grandeur and money in order to capture the Lincolnshire heiress, and he couldn’t do that without selling the estate.

  He began to unbutton his shirt cuffs; Birchfield had gone to bed and his sister had retired to her room as soon as she’d served supper. It’s no good, he thought despondently. I’ll have to do it. Tomorrow I’ll write and make an appointment to see Smithers. At least if I discuss it with him and he tells me that everything is above board, my mind will be at rest; and if I earn sufficient money I can eventually send an allowance to my aunt to help with the expense of keeping Frances and Mary.

  He started as he heard the long peal of the doorbell. Somebody in a hurry, he thought, glancing at the clock. Eleven thirty. I’d better go down. Mrs Scott will be in bed and I dare say the good doctor will be too. He put his dressing robe over his shirt and trousers and before he reached the hall the bell pealed again.

  ‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ he called, as he unbolted the door. ‘What is it? Is someone ill?’

  A youth stood there who seemed startled to see him. ‘Can Dr Birchfield come at once, sir? It’s very urgent.’

  ‘He’s abed, but I’ll call him. What is the trouble? Who is it who is ill?’

  He was shocked by the reply and also by the way the youth was staring at him.

  ‘It’s a sodger with a festering wound, sir. He’s at ’Maritime Hotel. You know him, I think. He’s in a lot o’ pain. Afeard o’ losing his foot.’

  ‘Run for a cab, will you?’ Jamie acted swiftly. ‘I’ll wake the doctor.’

  ‘I am awake,’ Dr Birchfield called down from the top of the stairs. ‘What is it? A birth?’

  ‘No. The soldier I brought home. His condition has worsened.’ I should have gone today to check on him, he thought as he ran upstairs, hustled into his coat and picked up his medical bag. I told him I would call, but I thought he’d be all right for a few days. But how did this boy know me?