Tilly Trotter (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy)

by Catherine Cookson

  Tilly herself felt the rising of tears in her throat now. It was wonderful to be liked, to be loved, and she felt that Mrs Drew loved her like she did each one of her children. She rose to her feet now, saying, ‘I’ll have to be getting back.’

  It was as she went to the door that Katie said softly, ‘If that lad calls again what shall I tell him?’

  ‘Oh’ – Tilly turned to her – ‘just say I’m all right and thank him for calling.’

  ‘He was askin’ did he think he could call up at the house now that you’re settled there in a good position, and I said I didn’t know but when I saw you I would ask you.’

  ‘Come on. Come on, our Katie, let Tilly get away. It wouldn’t do for him to go up there. You don’t want him up there, Tilly, do you?’

  Tilly looked at Biddy and said, ‘Well, it could be awkward.’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure it would. Well, I’ll deal with him kindly when he next comes.’

  ‘Thanks. Ta-rah.’ She spread her smile over them, and they all answered, ‘Ta-rah! Tilly. Ta-rah.’

  Biddy stopped them all from following her into the road, but as Tilly went towards the coach and Fred Leyburn, who was standing flapping his arms about himself to keep himself warm, Biddy followed her, and at the step she whispered, ‘You’ll let me know when, lass?’

  Smiling now, Tilly said, ‘Oh dear, I forgot. On Saturday afternoon; they’ll be gone by then.’

  ‘Well and good, lass.’

  Biddy stood back. The wind, taking her apron, threatened to lift it over her head, and she pressed it down with her hands and remained standing so until the coach rolled away past the end of the muddy row.

  PART FOUR: AND THE BEWITCHED

  One

  The early months of 1840 were to Tilly like time spent in a new world. All her long life she was to look back upon them as a form of awakening, for it was during these months that she learned to take on responsibility. She learned the sweet taste of deference, but above all she learned what it was to be a constant companion to a man, a gentleman. There was also bred in her a new fear, or rather the resurrection of the old one, for most of the work that the Drew boys and Mr Waters and Mr McCann had done outside in the way of planting had on two occasions been completely trampled to ground level.

  It was after the second devastation that the master had ordered the setting of mantraps. As Sam had said to her, he hated the very name of mantraps and the men who laid them, and also he hated the men who ordered their laying; yet after seeing their efforts reduced to nothing he had been forced to consider another side to the business, and in anger he himself had helped to set them up and put a notice on both lodge gates to the effect that the grounds were trapped.

  The destruction in the garden had definitely been the work of a number of men, and Tilly didn’t know if they came from the village or from Jarrow, which was Jane Brackett’s home. But she had a suspicion, as they all had, that the raids had been planned in Jarrow, for the cook had been known to say that if it was the last thing she did she’d bring ‘that ’un’ down, and not only her but the lot of them.

  But today was bright, a high wind was scudding the clouds; it had been blowing for days as if in answer to Tilly’s prayers to harden the roads, because if the master was to be disappointed this time he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. There were times of late when his frustration had burst forth in temper and he had stormed at Mr Burgess and everybody who came near him, including herself; not that she minded, nor did Mr Burgess. Mr Burgess was wonderful with him. His half-daily visits when he helped to bathe him and talk to him had brought a new interest into his life.

  For herself she had discovered something afresh about Mr Burgess. He liked to gossip, and that he brought the news of births, deaths and scandals to the master’s ears she was well aware, particularly, she thought, about the scandals because often when she was entering the room Burgess would change the conversation and in a way that wouldn’t have deceived a child.

  The house, she had felt for weeks, was growing happy. It was cleaner than she had ever seen it. And even at this early time of the year the gardens were looking different. Paths had been weeded, hedges cut, ground that hadn’t seen the light of day for years had been cleared. John Hillman was working for his money these days, but he was seeing that all those under him did the same, and the result was pleasing, so much so that Mark had talked of getting a wheelchair to take him round the grounds, for he couldn’t see himself ever being able to stand on false feet which would enable him to use crutches.

  So on this bright morning Tilly, excitement and not a little apprehension filling her, was making a tour of the house to see that everything was in order for the arrival of Mrs Forefoot-Meadows and the children. She was as excited about the children coming as was the master.

  All the furniture in the dining room was glowing, the epergne in the centre of the table sprayed out daffodils, and the silver on the long mahogany sideboard gleamed; and in the drawing room the fire was blazing in the grate, the lace drapes at the long windows had all been washed, the heavy velvet curtains and pelmets had been taken down and brushed, even the tops of the oil paintings surrounding the walls had been dusted. Tilly was satisfied there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.

  In the hall a big blue vase of ferns banked the great newel post at the bottom of the stairs; the red stair-carpet that was worn in parts had been taken up and relaid and the effect, Tilly thought, was almost like new.

  On through the house she went. The nursery floor was in readiness, the room that she had once occupied was now given over to Katie, whose work it would be to tend to the children during their three days’ stay in the house. Her own room now was at the other side of the dressing room, and she still couldn’t get used to the difference. A feather bed, a huge wardrobe with full-length mirrors for doors, a wash-hand stand with her own bowl and jug and a slop bucket so pretty that she hated to pour dirty water into it.

  She stood now in front of the mirror. It wasn’t often she had time to stand and appraise herself, but when she did she was always surprised at the reflection. She was eighteen but she looked older. Perhaps it was her uniform, a beautiful uniform, grey alpaca. The waist clung to her like a skin. The skirt wasn’t very full; they had wanted to put another panel in it but she had said no. That would, she had thought, be aping the ladies, and she felt she had stepped out of her place enough without her dress causing comment. She was wearing drawers now for the first time in her life, and also boned stays. She didn’t mind the drawers but the stays she found cumbersome; yet she wore them because there were what was called suspenders hanging from the bottom and these kept up her white cotton stockings better than garters.

  Her cap was different too; this one didn’t cover all her hair but sat on the top of it, as she laughingly thought to herself, like a starched crown.

  She moved closer to the mirror and touched the skin of her face. Her complexion wasn’t bad. She knew she was being mealy-mouthed, but she couldn’t say, it’s lovely, ’cos as her granny would have said, never believe what the mirror tells you ’cos you only see what you want to see.

  She now fastened the top button of her dress, smoothed her hands down over her hips, then went out into the corridor, turned into the dressing room and there paused for a moment to see that everything was in order, then went in to the bedroom.

  Mr Burgess was sitting by the cane chair and his head was back and he was laughing, and the master was laughing too. His face was flushed, his eyes were bright, and he was looking different this morning, younger. He had taken pains to brush his unruly hair flat across the top of his head. He was wearing a white silk shirt with a ruffle. He had also, she noticed, forced himself to put on trousers, which she considered was a big step forward, for he mostly spent his days in his nightshirt and dressing gown. However, the small cage this morning was across the bottom of the chair with a rug covering it, but his dress and the way he was sitting gave the impression of wholeness.

  �
��Well, Trotter, done your rounds?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Everything in order?’

  ‘As far as I can see, yes, sir.’

  ‘And the meals? As much as I enjoy roast beef, roast lamb, meat puddings and such I don’t think they will satisfy my mother-in-law’s palate. Have you seen the cook?’

  ‘Yes, sir; we discussed the meals last night.’

  ‘And what did you hatch up?’

  ‘Well, sir, Mrs Drew thought of starting with white soup, and then a bit of boiled salmon with sauce, and the main course to be roast chicken with carrots and mashed turnips and other vegetables; then she was making a choice of puddings, cabinet pudding or rhubarb tart and special custard with eggs, I mean made with eggs’ – she laughed – ‘and fruit – she could have a choice – and then there’s cheeses.’

  Mark turned now and looked at Mr Burgess, saying, ‘What do you think of that, Burgess?’

  ‘It sounds very appetising, sir, very appetising indeed, in fact it’s causing my juices to rise.’ As he spoke he got to his feet and now looked at Tilly, saying, ‘I’m sure Mrs Forefoot-Meadows will be pleased.’

  She did not answer, except that her eyes smiled at him.

  Mr Burgess now turned to Mark, saying, ‘I will leave you now, sir, if I may, but I shall be here in the morning and share your pleasure in seeing the children once again.’

  ‘Thank you, Burgess, I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you. And if I’m not mistaken they will wish they were back under your care.’

  ‘I would wish that too, sir, but—’ he shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. ‘C’est la vie, telle quelle . . . telle quelle.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, indeed.’

  Mr Burgess went out and Mark, turning to Tilly, said, ‘I don’t think I’ve felt so excited about anything since the night Harry was born. And isn’t it a bit of luck that he’ll be here the day after tomorrow. He’ll have one day among them anyway.’ He turned his head away and looked towards the window, saying now with deep bitterness, ‘Three days! Damnable!’

  Sensing his changing mood, she went quickly towards the chair and, straightening the cover that had slipped slightly from the cage, she said brightly, ‘They’ll likely make so much narration, sir, that you’ll be glad to see the back of them.’

  His head came round to her sharply and his voice seemed to be censoring the stupidity of her remark when he said, ‘Yes, as glad as I would be to see the back of you, Trotter.’

  She stood silent now looking at him as she often did when she thought it was better not to give any answer to his remarks.

  ‘If Mr Burgess had remained a little longer he would have said that that remark of yours was stupid, trite. Do you understand that?’

  ‘All I understand is, sir, that I was aiming to lighten your despair with regard to the children.’

  His expression altered as he stared at her: there had been spirit in the answer that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago. He didn’t object to it, in fact he liked it for he was catching a glimpse of the emerging woman that lay beneath the yes, sir, no, sir, attitude of hers. His voice quiet now, he asked, ‘If you had four children taken away from you what would you do, Trotter?’

  He watched her think a moment before answering, ‘As . . . as I’ve never had children I cannot tell to what depth my feelings would go. I can just judge on the reactions of Mrs Drew to her family. But I’m not as strong as Mrs Drew so I think I might go mad. Then again, sir, it’s a question that is difficult to answer because if I had four children why should they be taken away?’ She felt the blood rushing to her face and her eyes widened as she stared at him; and now his voice ominously quiet, he said, ‘Go on, finish.’

  When she didn’t speak he supplied the meaning to her words, saying, ‘You were about to tell me that you would never do anything that would bring about losing your children, was that it?’

  She remained mute.

  ‘Well, my answer to that, Trotter, is, you have a long way to go yet and a lot to learn about human nature, and also a great deal to learn about the penalties for sin. Some sentences are out of all proportion to the crime . . . What’s that?’ He turned quickly and, raising himself on his hands to look over the broad sill of the window, his whole expression changing, he cried, ‘It’s the coach! It’s them. Go on down. Go on down.’

  She turned from him now and ran out of the room and across the landing and down the stairs. Pike was already waiting; both doors were thrown wide open and there, on the drive, the coach had come to a standstill.

  It was her place, she knew, to stand at the top of the steps and welcome Mrs Forefoot-Meadows in, as she had seen Mrs Lucas do, but she so much forgot herself she ran down the steps and it seemed that before she reached the bottom they were around her shouting, ‘Hello! Trotter. Hello! Trotter.’ Even Matthew was smiling.

  ‘Enough! Enough! Behave yourselves.’ The voice of their grandmother did not immediately quell their boisterous enthusiasm, but they left Tilly and raced up the steps and into the house; and Tilly, looking at Mrs Forefoot-Meadows, said, ‘I hope you had a good journey, madam?’

  The surprise of being greeted by this girl seemed to have struck Jane Forefoot-Meadows dumb because she looked from her and up the steps to where Pike was standing; then turning from her without even the acknowledgment of a nod, she swept up to the terrace and passed Pike, saying as she did so, ‘What’s this? What’s this?’

  ‘I hope you had a pleasant jour . . . ’

  ‘Never mind about the journey, where’s Mrs Lucas?’

  ‘She’s no longer here, madam.’

  ‘No longer here!’ As she unloosened her cape she looked about her, saying, ‘And Simes?’

  ‘He’s no longer in the master’s service either, madam.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and again she looked around the hall. The difference in the house was already striking her, yet she couldn’t put an actual finger on it.

  When a moment or so later she entered Mark’s room she put both hands up to her ears, crying, ‘Stop it! Stop that noise this instant!’ and again the laughter and chatter subsided.

  Going towards the chair now, where Mark had Jessie Ann cradled in one arm and John in the other, while the two older boys sat halfway down on either side, she did not ask after her son-in-law’s health but said, ‘What’s this I’ve come across? No housekeeper, no footman, and that girl!’

  ‘It’s a long story, Mother-in-law, a long, long story, and you’ll hear about it all in good time; but first, get off your feet.’

  ‘I’ve been off my feet for hours, my bones are stiff . . . Stop making that racket, John, and speak correctly. Haven’t I told you?’

  ‘Y . . . yes, Gramama.’

  Mark looked at his small son who no longer seemed so small; not one of his children seemed small now, they had all grown in their different ways. But John’s speech was worse than when he had been at home, he was actually stammering now.

  ‘Leave your father alone and get away all of you up to the nursery, and get out of your travelling clothes and don’t come downstairs until I give you leave. Away with you now.’

  Mark bit on his lip as Jessie Ann and John slid from his arms; then Jessie Ann, looking towards the cage, said, ‘Are your feet still sore, Papa?’

  Mark did not take his glance from her and he continued to smile at her as he said, ‘Yes; yes, they’re still sore, my dear.’

  ‘Perhaps you want your toenails cut, mine stick in me and Willy Nilly digs the scissors in and cuts them off. It hurts . . . ’

  ‘Who’s Willy Nilly?’

  It was his mother-in-law who answered now, saying, ‘Williams, their nurse. Go on, children, do as you’re bid.’

  And they went scrambling and laughing out of the room, and the noise was like music in his ears, it was as if they had never been away. Yet they had been away and the change in all of them was evident, at least in their growth.

/>   ‘Well now, what’s this? The house is all topsy-turvy.’

  ‘No, Mother-in-law, the house is no longer topsy-turvy. The house, I am pleased to say, is being run as it should have been for years.’

  Her plucked eyebrows moved upwards, the wrinkles around her eyes stretched themselves, and she said one word, ‘Indeed!’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Sit yourself down and I’ll give you all my news. I’m sure you’d like to hear it before you give me yours.’

  Flinging off her dust-coat, she sat down and she made no comment whatever until Mark had finished outlining the story of the changeover, and then she said, ‘Pit folk in the house?’

  ‘Yes, as I said; and outside too and doing splendidly.’

  ‘It can’t work.’

  ‘But it does.’ His voice was high. ‘And I’m going to tell you something more, at one-third of the cost.’

  ‘A third!’ She pulled her bony chin into the sagging flesh of her neck that formed a ridge around the high collar of her dress.

  ‘Yes, a third; and from what I gather the whole house is cleaner, and from what I see’ – he pointed to the window – ‘the grounds have been unearthed in all quarters. Then there is the food. The bills have gone down in a remarkable way, for everybody, I understand, eats well, including myself.’

  ‘That girl, do you know she was at the bottom of the steps when I got out of the carriage, leaving Pike at the door?’

  ‘Perhaps she wanted to greet you.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mark; she doesn’t know her place.’

  His face and voice lost its pleasantness now as he said sharply, ‘She knows her place all right. She’s running this house, and what’s more she’s seeing to me.’