A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  ‘They call it will-o’-the-wisp.’

  ‘Is it supposed to be a fairy or a spirit?’

  Toby chuckled. ‘Nothing so romantic; it’s caused by marsh gas, and those who follow its eerie dance get sucked into the bog and drowned. Don’t be tempted to stray from the path.’

  She glanced round, peering into the gathering gloom with a shudder. ‘This place looks like the end of the earth. How far must we go before we can stop for the night?’

  ‘Not far now.’

  Effie stared at his profile as he rode beside her, and it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. His straight nose and high cheekbones were complemented by a firm jawline and a determined chin, but there was a delicacy about his features that gave him a boyish charm. It was little wonder that women found him irresistible, she thought, as she observed how gently he held her son, and how easily Georgie’s curly head rested on Toby’s shoulder. She shivered as a cool breeze blew in from the east. She was cold now, but earlier in the day she had been drenched in sweat. Despite the wide-brimmed felt hat that Toby had given her, she could feel her skin aflame with sunburn, and she was so hungry that her stomach felt as though it was eating itself. They had stopped by the wayside at noon and purchased milk from a farm together with a freshly baked loaf and strong cheese that had taken the skin off the inside of Effie’s mouth. But that was many hours ago, and although Toby had filled a leather flask with water they had had nothing to eat since their picnic at the roadside.

  ‘See that light in the distance?’ Toby said, breaking the silence that stretched between them like an invisible cord.

  Effie strained her eyes to see the pinprick of a glow that might have been a star it seemed so far away. ‘I think so.’

  ‘It’s Marsh House. My mother worked there as a girl, and I was born within its crumbling walls.’

  A shudder ran down Effie’s spine. ‘It doesn’t sound very welcoming. Will they let us stay for the night?’

  ‘The housekeeper makes money on the side by taking in travellers who would otherwise be stranded overnight on the marshes. Desperate people will pay almost anything for the privilege of sleeping in the barn, or on the kitchen floor.’

  Effie said nothing. She was so tired that she would willingly have slept anywhere providing it was warm and dry. Toby urged his horse into a brisk trot and Effie followed suit. The sooner they reached Marsh House, the better.

  But when they arrived at their destination she was not so sure. It was almost dark and the Elizabethan manor house was silhouetted against the residual glow in the western sky. To Effie’s tired eyes it looked more like a ruin than a habitable home. The roof was bowed and the ground littered with fallen tiles and the odd chimney pot that had crashed to earth and splintered into shards. The garden appeared to be a tangle of overgrown bushes and brambles, and as Toby guided his horse round the back of the building to the stable yard the dereliction became more apparent. A light filtering through a ground floor window revealed mossy cobblestones and stable doors hanging by single hinges, creaking and groaning in the cold wind from the marsh.

  A flickering beam of light from a lantern preceded an aged retainer as he hobbled across the yard to take the horses into the stables. A few words from Toby brought a semblance of a smile to the man’s lips, and he grunted a reply in a cracked voice so deep and low that Effie could not make out the words.

  With the saddlebags looped over his shoulder, Toby headed for the back door of the house. ‘Come on, Effie.’

  She followed him slowly, her cramped muscles protesting with every step, and Georgie’s sleepy head bumping up and down against her shoulder. It appeared that no one had bothered to lock the door as Toby walked into the scullery without knocking. Effie thought that the occupants were either supremely confident in their isolation, or else there was nothing of value to steal. She wrinkled her nose at the smell emanating from the drain in the stone sink, and the buckets of slops left to ferment on the flagstone floor. Toby led the way down a narrow passage to the kitchen. The heat from the range enveloped Effie like a warm cloak, and the light from the fire cast a friendly glow on what was otherwise a scene of total chaos. Candle stubs wallowing in pools of melted wax were stuck to every available spare inch of tabletop or shelving that was not hidden beneath a jumble of pots, pans, dirty crockery, old boots and dog leads, rotting vegetable matter and mouldy loaves. The floor was thick with mud so that it was impossible to tell whether flagstones or floorboards lay beneath the piles of old grain sacks and bundles of kindling.

  ‘You wouldn’t describe it as homely, would you?’ Toby said in a low voice, pointing at an elderly woman who was dozing in a rocking chair by the fire. ‘That is the housekeeper I mentioned earlier.’ He cleared his throat noisily. ‘Ho there, Mrs Halfpenny.’

  The woman raised her head and pushed her mobcap back from her eyes, peering at them with a disgruntled look on her lined face. ‘Is that you again, Toby Tapper?’

  ‘It is I, Mrs Halfpenny.’

  ‘And who’s that with you? If that’s a kid she’s holding, I don’t like children. I don’t want it in the house.’

  Toby made his way to her side, which Effie observed was more like wading through a rubbish heap than simply crossing from one end of a room to the other. He stood before the irate housekeeper, and taking a package from his pocket he pressed it into her hand. ‘That should sweeten your temper, my old duck.’

  Mrs Halfpenny ripped the brown paper open and held the brown powder to her nose, sniffing it with an appreciative grin. ‘That’s more like it. What d’you want, you rogue?’

  ‘A bed for myself and my travelling companions, and something to eat.’ Toby glanced at the detritus on the table and frowned. ‘Well, perhaps some eggs if the hens haven’t stopped laying, and some milk for the little one.’

  ‘Show me your money and I’ll think about it.’ Mrs Halfpenny held out her hand.

  Toby took some coins from his pocket and placed a silver threepenny bit on her palm.

  ‘Not enough, cully.’

  He added a penny, but she shook her head. ‘Sixpence and not a penny less.’

  ‘You are an old robber. We could stay at an inn for less.’

  Mrs Halfpenny put her head on one side, staring up at him with a sly expression in her beady eyes. ‘But you don’t have to please the master as I do. He’s never been the same since he took to the drink and opium, and sometimes it’s hard to know how to deal with his fits of madness. There’s not many as would put up with him, I can tell you that for nothing.’

  ‘You’re a saint, I’m sure,’ Toby said, placing two more pennies in her hand. ‘I want a proper bed for Mrs Grey and her son, but I can sleep anywhere.’

  ‘I can let you have the Blue Room, but there’s only one bed and you’ll have to make your own arrangements.’ Mrs Halfpenny darted a sly look at Effie. ‘I’m sure she won’t say no, if pressed.’

  ‘There are plenty of rooms,’ Toby protested. ‘I can remember almost exactly how many beds my mother had to make each day.’

  ‘And she slept in a fair number of them,’ Mrs Halfpenny said, cackling with mirthless laughter. ‘Well, she ain’t here to wash the bedlinen now, young Toby. In fact there ain’t any to spare because I sold it all to pay me wages.’

  ‘But there are beds . . .’ Toby faltered as Mrs Halfpenny shook her head.

  ‘No. I sold ’em too. There’s not a stick of furniture left in most of the upstairs rooms, and it weren’t all sent to auction for my benefit. The master’s mind is wandering and he don’t know what day of the week it is. He’s gone through his money and allowed the farm to go to ruin. I’ve had to trade furniture for food and drink, so don’t look down your nose at me, young man.’ She rose to her feet and hobbled across the room to peer at Effie. ‘You dress like a gypsy and you might be a pretty girl when your face goes back to normal, but take my tip and be on your way as soon as it gets light. This ain’t no place for the likes of you and an innocent child.’
r />   ‘A bed for the night will be more than welcome,’ Effie said with an effort. ‘We are very tired, ma’am.’

  ‘I can see that you ain’t no common slut. Where did he come across you, I’d like to know?’

  ‘Mrs Halfpenny,’ Toby said sternly. ‘That’s none of your business. We’d like something to eat now, if you please.’

  ‘You know where the henhouse is, and there’s milk in the dairy if it ain’t curdled. Old Jeffries gets a bucketful from the farm across the marsh every morning when his rheumatics don’t get the better of him.’

  Georgie chose this moment to wake up and he began to snivel. Effie cast an agonised glance at Toby and he nodded his head. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see what I can do. I could find my way blindfold round this old place.’ He picked up a jug, sniffed it and pulled a face. ‘Is there a clean pot or pan in the house, Mrs Halfpenny?’

  ‘Don’t you be so cheeky,’ she snapped, bridling. ‘You ain’t too big to warrant a clip round the lug.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ Toby said, addressing his remark to Effie as he left the room.

  ‘He was a young limb and he ain’t changed very much now he’s a grown man.’ Mrs Halfpenny resumed her seat and took a hefty pinch of the brown powder from the packet that he had given her. She sneezed and wiped her nose on her stained pinafore. ‘That’s proper snuff. Not like the sweepings off the floor that Jeffries gets for me in town.’

  Georgie rubbed his eyes and began to bawl in earnest. Effie paced up and down, rocking her son in her arms. ‘There, there, darling. We’ll have supper soon and then Mama will put you to bed.’

  ‘Shut him up,’ Mrs Halfpenny grumbled. ‘I can’t hear meself think.’

  ‘He’s had a long day, and he’s hungry.’ Effie brushed the damp curls back from Georgie’s forehead. He was flushed and she could feel the heat emanating from his small body. She prayed silently that it was just a touch of the sun and not one of the dreaded childhood ailments that seemed to be consuming his small body.

  ‘Give him a potato to chew on then. There’s some in one of them sacks, though don’t ask me which one.’ Mrs Halfpenny slipped the packet of snuff into her apron pocket and reached for a stone bottle placed strategically on the floor at her side. She took a swig with apparent enjoyment and sighed. ‘That’s real Hollands, that is. None of your cheap booze for Nellie Halfpenny.’

  Effie did her best to comfort an increasingly irritable Georgie, pacing the floor with him until Toby returned some minutes later with a jug of milk and four eggs.

  ‘I’m going to me bed,’ Mrs Halfpenny announced. She drained the last of the gin and rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘Sort yourselves out, but don’t make a noise. The master is a light sleeper and I don’t want him wandering about in the middle of the night.’ She staggered from the kitchen leaving a trail of gin fumes and body odour in her wake.

  Toby picked up an empty wicker log basket, and with one sweep of his arm sent the dirty crockery, remnants of past meals and vegetable peelings tumbling into its capacious depths. ‘That’s the only way to deal with a mess like that,’ he said, putting the rubbish outside the door. ‘If you can find some clean cups and plates, I’ll see to the food.’

  ‘I’ll scream if a rat jumps out at me. Goodness knows what’s lurking inside the cupboards if the mess outside is anything to go by.’ Effie settled Georgie on her hip while she explored the kitchen, peering nervously into cupboards and drawers. She found some clean, if dusty, cups and plates in the dresser, and a reasonably fresh loaf of bread on the larder shelf. She wrinkled her nose at the rancid stench emanating from a lump of mouldy cheese, and a tub of lard studded with what she thought at first were currants and on closer inspection turned out to be dead flies. She closed the door on such abominations and sat Georgie down in the rocking chair, where he flopped listlessly like a rag doll. ‘I hope he’s not sickening for something,’ she said anxiously as she poured warm milk onto some crumbled bread.

  ‘He’s caught the sun and he must be worn out,’ Toby said soothingly. ‘All he needs is some food and a good night’s sleep.’

  Effie was not convinced, but she was relieved when Georgie took a little of the bread and milk, although he fell asleep after a few mouthfuls.

  Toby took a caddy from the mantelshelf and spooned tea leaves into a brown china teapot. ‘Nothing changes here,’ he said, adding boiling water. ‘Everything is kept in exactly the same place as when I was a nipper.’ He set the pot on the hob to brew and turned his attention to toasting the bread and scrambling the eggs.

  Effie watched him with a degree of surprise. This was a side of Toby Tapper that she could never have imagined, and quite different from the image he assumed as a womanising scallywag and dealer in horses of uncertain origin. Her curiosity was aroused as she realised how little she knew of him and how much of his character she had taken at face value. ‘How long did you live in this house, Toby?’

  ‘Like I said before, I was born here, and I was only seven when Ma died. She nursed the master through a bout of smallpox, but she caught it herself and was dead within days. He survived but the illness seemed to send the old man a bit mad, and he sent me to live with my mother’s people. They were good to me in their fashion, but I was not one of them. My mixed blood went against me as much with the Roma as with the gorgios.’

  Effie was quick to note the pain behind his words and her heart went out to him. ‘Poor little boy, you must have been very unhappy.’

  ‘Not a bit of it.’ Toby’s insouciant smile banished the wistful look and he set the plates of food on the table. ‘Come and eat while it’s hot.’ He poured the tea and handed a cup to Effie. ‘You must be tired, Effie. I’ll show you your room when you’ve finished your meal.’

  ‘Where will you sleep?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Effie. I’ll take the chair by the range.’ His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled merrily. ‘You’re in no danger from me.’

  She was too tired to think of a suitable response. She had never thought of Toby in a romantic light, but his cheerful words did nothing for her self-confidence. She knew she must look a sight with her bruised face, tangled hair and travel-stained clothes, but she found herself wondering how Frank would have behaved in a similar situation. She had done her best to put him out of her mind, but the knowledge that they had parted for good was weighing her down so that she felt close to despair. She had never thought to love again, but now it seemed that she was doomed to lose the men closest to her heart. Sadness and loneliness threatened to engulf her. She would have welcomed a loving hug from a man’s arms, even if it was Toby who held her and told her that everything would be all right in the end. She raised her eyes and realised with a jolt of surprise that he was staring at her intently. ‘What’s the matter?’ she demanded anxiously. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘You were thinking of him, weren’t you?’

  ‘No, I was not.’ She took a mouthful of toast and chewed it, but her throat was so tight that she found it almost impossible to swallow. She gulped and took a sip of tea. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ Toby’s expression lightened. ‘Eat up and we’ll get you both to bed. Things will look better in the morning, I promise you.’

  The Blue Room proved to be large and sparsely furnished. In the flickering light of a candle, Effie could see a chest of drawers standing on the bare boards beneath the mullioned window. There was a washstand with nothing but rings in the dust to show that it had once boasted a jug and basin, and she noted that there were no towels hanging from the rail. There was also a marked absence of curtains hanging at the window or from the tester on the large four-poster bed that dominated the room.

  ‘Nellie seems to have been extremely thorough when it came to selling off Mr Westlake’s possessions,’ Toby said, placing the candlestick on the washstand. ‘I suppose the furniture will be the next to go to the auction rooms.’

  Effie lifted the bedcovers with a sigh
of relief. ‘At least she’s left the bedding. We’ll be comfortable enough tonight, Toby.’ She laid Georgie on the pillow without waking him. ‘It may be wishful thinking, but he seems to be a little cooler now.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine in the morning,’ Toby said, patting her gently on the shoulder. ‘I’m going downstairs, but I’d advise you to lock the door when I’ve gone.’

  ‘Goodnight, Toby. Thank you for everything.’

  ‘Get some sleep, Effie. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.’

  She followed him to the door but when she went to lock it she discovered that the key was missing. She was too exhausted to worry about such a triviality and she lay down beside Georgie, pulling the bedcovers up to her chin. She was certain that the bedding was damp, but she had kept her clothes on. Tomorrow they would leave this horrible old house and be on their way to find Tom. She closed her eyes and slipped into a deep sleep, but vivid dreams disturbed her slumbers. She was out on the marsh, following the fairy lights into a cold, thick mist. She could not see and she was sinking into the boggy ground. She could not move. She was shivering and ice-cold. She opened her eyes and in the half-light she found herself gazing into the pockmarked face of a man with a mane of black hair and wild blue eyes. He smelled as if he had not washed for a year at least, and his breath stank of stale brandy and a substance that she did not recognise. His hands were tugging at the bedclothes and the weight of his body made it impossible for her to move. She opened her mouth and screamed.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘MIRELLA, DON’T BE frightened. You’ve come back to me, my darling, and you’ve brought the boy.’

  Effie’s heart was beating a tattoo against her ribs. She realised that this madman must be Mr Westlake, the master of the house. She was terrified and yet she felt pity for the tortured soul who gazed at her with such passion. ‘I am not Mirella,’ she whispered. ‘My name is Effie. Your housekeeper allowed us to stay for one night.’