Wait For the Dawn

by Jess Foley

  ‘Aren’t you – aren’t you pleased? Aren’t you happy for me?’

  Still he remained there, and she thought for a moment, He’ll stay, he wants to hear what I’ve got to say, but then he gave a shrug and took half a step away.

  ‘You should honour thy father,’ he said, and turned from her.

  ‘But – but, Father. . .’

  He turned back to face her, just briefly, just long enough to say, ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll miss the coach.’ Then he had swung about and was striding down the street.

  She stood watching as he walked away and turned a corner out of sight.

  After a little while she herself moved, and headed back through the outskirts of the town towards the market square. On another day she would have gone into the shop to see Alfred and talk with him for a while, customers permitting, and probably would have stayed on to help serve. Today, though, she wanted to be alone.

  That evening when Alfred came home from the shop he found her sitting in the glow of the gas lamp with her sewing in her lap. He bent and kissed her cheek. Tinny, having greeted him enthusiastically, continued to wag his tail. Lydia set her sewing aside on the small table at her elbow and said as Alfred straightened, ‘I saw him. I saw my father.’ Alfred waited for her to go on. ‘I went to Cremson’s and waited outside the gates. I caught him as he came out.’

  ‘Oh? What happened?’

  ‘I told him – about the baby.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘He didn’t want to know. He didn’t even want to talk to me. I was only with him for a minute, and then he was off again.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Alfred joined Lydia’s sigh with his own. ‘He’s still hurt that he didn’t know sooner about the wedding.’

  ‘It was a surprise for everybody, you and me included.’ Then, her rueful smile fading, she murmured, ‘Oh, but it does upset me so – this not talking. As I said, I was only with him for a minute, and then he was dashing off, to catch his ride to Capinfell. I thought, when I told him about the baby, that he’d come round, but no.’

  ‘He will. In time. Give it time.’

  ‘But it’s been weeks now – and he hasn’t answered any of my letters. Ryllis has heard from him, so it isn’t that he’s been incapacitated in any way.’

  ‘He won’t stay angry with you for ever,’ Alfred said. ‘What is his way? Is it to sulk? To hold a grudge?’

  ‘Not usually, no. He’s quick to anger – oh, more than you can imagine – and then usually it’s over.’

  ‘Well,’ Alfred said consolingly, ‘this time it’s taking a little longer, but things’ll be all right, you’ll see.’ Changing the subject he clapped his hands lightly – making Tinny look round in surprise and expectation – and said, ‘Anyway, what else have you done today?’

  She began to tidy up her threads and needles as she answered. ‘I did a little crochet,’ she said, ‘and also I helped Mrs Starling in the kitchen.’ Mrs Starling was the resident cook/housekeeper – an ageing widow, faithful and conscientious, employed at Ranleigh House since the death of the first Mrs Canbrook. There was also a young daily maid, Alice, who came in from her home nearby. Lydia, since arriving at the house, had divided her time between helping in the management and cleaning of the place, and assisting Alfred in the shop, which business she was swiftly learning as the days went by. She could have taken over the running of the house herself, but after a brief discussion with Alfred the notion was scotched for the time being. There would come a time soon, Alfred insisted, with the arrival of the baby, when they would be even more glad of Mrs Starling’s services. So matters remained as they were, and Mrs Starling was left content to pursue her usual employment.

  The marriage between Lydia and Alfred had of course been a great surprise to everyone who knew Alfred Canbrook, for many had believed that his widower status would continue. For one thing, they said among themselves, they had not even known that he and the young woman from Capinfell were walking out. A quiet man, he had given nothing away until he was ready for others to know, and then he had told Mrs Starling and his assistants at the shop. Everything had happened so quickly, and he and Lydia had been wed. The swiftness of the move had been a subject for talk, and the gossip would not be over yet, for as soon as the baby was born, both Lydia and Alfred were well aware, the chatterers would start counting backwards.

  ‘Were you busy at the shop today?’ Lydia said after a moment.

  ‘Yes, very, and the new linens came in from Derby, so there was that to deal with as well. It still isn’t finished.’

  ‘I could have come along to help out,’ she said. ‘I could easily have done that after seeing Father.’

  ‘Oh, we managed all right,’ he said. ‘Besides, I want you to take things easy for now.’

  ‘But you don’t take things easy,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I think you work much too hard.’

  ‘I do what I have to do. It won’t get done otherwise. Besides, I’m not having a baby.’

  As he spoke she reflected, not for the first time, on the long hours he worked, and how he drove himself. He would be up at five-thirty each morning, and before breakfast would take Tinny for a ten-minute stroll beside the river. Then, back at the house he would have his breakfast and, before leaving for the shop, would take Lydia tea in bed. Then, unless she decided to go into the shop during the day, she would not see him until after eight in the evening when he got back.

  ‘You could at least take Sundays off,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose you’re already thinking of going into the shop tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, as I said, the linens ain’t been sorted, so I might drop in to get that done. You can achieve so much when the shop’s quiet and nothing’s going on.’ He smiled. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss.’

  *

  Sunday, and the early November morning had been cold and damp with fog hazing the trees on the near horizon. Because of the chill weather Lydia had not gone to church that morning, as she sometimes did in the company of Mrs Starling. Alfred never went. At the start of their marriage, when asked by Lydia if he would care to accompany her, he had told her that she would have to get used to going without him. He had no need for communion with God, he said, and if there ever came a time for it, then he was going to ask God a few questions, questions that no one on earth seemed to have been able to answer. Questions such as what? Lydia had asked. Well, he had replied, Why, for one thing did He allow wars? Why, if He was so caring, did He allow good people and innocent children to suffer, while so many rascals got off scot-free and enjoyed life? ‘These questions bother me,’ he had said. So, he would spend his Sunday morning in his own pursuits, walking the dog and then going into the shop, to do a little work. Today he had returned to the house for midday dinner with Lydia, and then, after reading the Sunday paper for an hour, had returned to the shop again, taking Tinny with him.

  Lydia was now alone, sitting by the window that looked out over the rear garden. She had helped wash up the dinner china and pots and pans, and tidy the dining room, and was now working at her knitting, making a pair of baby’s bootees. As she lifted her head from her work, and gazed out, it came to her how much the scene before her was changing. The cherry trees had altered so over the past few days. One of them was now quite bare, while the other two were swiftly losing their leaves, which lay now in a yellow and brown carpet over the lawn, where a blackbird methodically tossed them aside in his search for food. The few leaves that were left on the trees trembled in the cool wind. How changed was her life, Lydia thought, how changed in such a short time. Just a few months ago she could never have dreamed that her life would turn in such a way. Here she was, married to a kind, respectable man, living in a fine house and wanting for no material thing. More than that, she was expecting a child. With this thought, Guy came suddenly surging into her consciousness and she saw him again beside the lake, and felt his touch, and breathed in the smell of him with the scent of the roses and the elderflowers. She was a little shocked at the
immediacy of the visions and the sensations, and she thrust the images and the imagined feelings away. Guy was gone now, gone out of her life, and she did not expect to see him or hear from him ever again.

  The room was quiet but for the ticking of the clock, and after a time she found some relief in the peace and solitude as she worked with her needles. A bright fire burned in the grate. It was just after three. Alice did not come in on a Sunday, and Lydia expected no visitors.

  When she heard the knocking, faintly as it sounded through the hall, she wondered who it could possibly be. Moments passed, and then Mrs Starling was tapping on the door, entering and saying that Miss Ryllis was here, and even as the woman finished speaking, Ryllis was coming into the room. As Mrs Starling withdrew, closing the door behind her, Lydia looked at her sister with concern. She could see anguish written clearly in Ryllis’s face.

  ‘Ryllis, my dear! What is it? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh, Lyddy!’ Ryllis stepped forward and threw herself into Lydia’s arms and burst into tears.

  Lydia held her for some moments, and then held her at arms’ length.

  ‘Now tell me what it is,’ Lydia said. ‘Come on, take off your cape and your hat and sit down and tell me. Would you like some tea? I’ll get you some tea.’

  ‘No. No, not now. Perhaps later. Is – is Mr Canbrook here?’ Ryllis’s tears had ceased now, and she sounded a little calmer.

  ‘He’s at the shop. Why? No one’s going to disturb us.’

  She helped Ryllis off with her cape, took her hat from her, and then led her to the sofa. There she sat and drew Ryllis down beside her. Taking her hands in her own, she said, ‘What is it now? Tell me.’

  Ryllis took a deep breath, then said, ‘I – I’ve just come from home.’

  ‘You’ve been to Capinfell?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve just come from there. I went to see Father.’

  ‘And . . .?’

  ‘Oh, Lyddy – he’s so unapproachable.’

  ‘Well, yes – I know he can be.’

  ‘I just couldn’t get near him. So in the end I just left, and came on to see you.’ At this she leaned forward and the tears started again and ran down her cheeks. ‘Tom’s given me up, Lyddy,’ she said. ‘He’s forsaken me.’

  ‘Oh, Ryllis . . .’

  Ryllis leaned forward against Lydia’s breast and stayed there sobbing, her slim body heaving against Lydia’s own. Lydia could do nothing but hold her.

  At last, after some minutes, Ryllis drew back and sat up, drawing in her breath. Groping in her pocket she drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her reddened eyes.

  ‘I told you,’ she said at last, ‘Tom hardly wrote since he went up to London to work with his uncle, and when he did it was only the shortest little note. Since the time he went he’s hardly been back to Barford, and then only for very short periods. Altogether I’ve seen him twice in all that time – and the second time was the last.’ She dabbed at her eyes again, and then crumpled the handkerchief into a ball in her fist. ‘Sometimes I think he only wanted one thing,’ she said.

  Lydia wanted to ask, Did you – ? Oh, Ryllis, did you? but held back. She dared not ask such a question.

  She had no need to, for Ryllis’s next words came telling all. ‘Just the one thing,’ she repeated with a little nod of her head. ‘I’ve been such a fool. I can see it now. I – I held back for such a long time – but I couldn’t say no for ever. Oh, Lyddy, you can’t know what it was like, how difficult some things can be. When you love someone you want to give them everything, and if it’s in your power you never want to say no.’

  Lydia said nothing, but sat with her hands in her lap.

  ‘I loved Tom,’ Ryllis said. ‘I loved him. Oh, I know he could be difficult at times. He was critical of me in so many ways. He found fault with me so often – for only minor things, but they hurt – but then he’d turn round and be the sweetest person. You never knew him, Lyddy. You only met him the once.’

  Yes, Lydia thought, she had only met him the once, but that once had been enough to convince her that he was not the right man for her sister.

  ‘He’s so clever, and so good looking,’ Ryllis said. ‘Sometimes I wondered what he could see in me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lydia said. ‘I should think any man would be glad to have you for a sweetheart.’

  Ryllis shrugged. ‘Well, whatever the truth of that, I’m still just a general maid. A maid-of-all-work. I’ve got none of the manners and graces his folks are looking for. It’s no wonder that in the end I didn’t come up to scratch. I’m not good enough for him, Lyddy, I know that’s what they all think.’

  Lydia waited for some moments, then said, ‘How – how do you know it’s over? Did he tell you?’

  ‘Yes.’ And now Ryllis clutched at herself, holding her upper arms, as if steadying herself, as if trying to prevent herself from bursting into tears again. She drew a breath, then, more in control, went on, ‘Yesterday, Saturday, it happened. I’d had a letter from him in the week from London, saying that he was coming down to Barford this weekend, and would see me – that’s just the way he put it: he would see me. Not that he wanted to, or would like to, just that he would – and he gave me time and place. I was to meet him by the old barn out on the Kippis Road. He knew the time I got off work. So, I went to meet him, and he came, and he told me. It was over between us, he said. I think he’s met someone else.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but you could read between the lines. He said his life has changed so much since he went up to London. Well, of course it has. I don’t doubt that it has for one moment, and it’s changed him. When I saw him I could hardly credit the difference. His clothes, the way he wears his hair. It’s all so – fashionable. You certainly wouldn’t get that look in the lanes around Barford. Oh, Lyddy, I felt such a country mouse next to him. There am I making a best dress last I-don’t-know-how-long, and he’s already seen it dozens of times. All the young ladies he meets in London, they must be a very different kettle of fish. I tell you, I felt really shabby.’

  A little silence fell between them. Past Ryllis’s shoulder Lydia looked out on to the garden. The persistent blackbird was still busy overturning the dead leaves. Into the quiet Ryllis said with a sigh:

  ‘He told me he had something to say to me, and somehow I knew what was coming, I could tell. Then he told me that he thought it would be better if we didn’t meet again. Could we just be friends, he said. I said to him, “Is it over, Tom?” and he just sort of nodded, and whispered “Yes”. I suppose I should be grateful that he told me to my face and didn’t just send me a cruel little note, and end it that way.’ She paused. ‘After a time he said he had to get back home. We parted at the crossroads. I went back to the house, and he went back home. I cried so much that night. I haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘I’m afraid it sounds rather – final, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It is. Just before we left he asked me not to – not to try to get in touch with him. Oh, yes, it was final all right.’

  She began to weep again, but softly now, with a little, heartbreaking keening sound. ‘I did love him so,’ she cried into her hands. ‘I still do. Though I know it won’t do me any good. I’ve lost him for ever now.’

  A little later Lydia made tea for the two of them, and Ryllis was persuaded to drink some of it. She had wept so much, and Lydia had felt helpless to give her anything other than sympathy and understanding. Now, though, Ryllis’s crying had ceased and her tears had dried. Sitting there on the sofa, she looked out unseeingly across the room.

  ‘I told you I went to see Father,’ she said.

  ‘Yes . . .’

  ‘He wouldn’t help me.’

  Lydia frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I got the train this morning. I arrived there just after he’d got back from church.’

  ‘Was he surprised to see you? I expect he was.’

  ‘Oh, of course he was. “W
hat are you doing home here?” he said to me. I told him that I wanted to leave the Lucases’ and stay at home with him and look after him. He said, “When? When your agreement is up?” and I said no, now. From today. I thought maybe he’d be pleased, and would welcome it. After all, he moans so much about Mrs Harbutt.’ She shook her head. ‘But he said no. He said I had to go on back. He said a contract was a contract. He said if I didn’t go back of my own accord he’d take me back himself. So what else can I do? Oh, but Lyddy, I don’t want to go back there. The only reason I stayed on like I did was because of Tom. Had it not been for him I’d have left ages ago, references or no references.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I did think of asking you if I could stay here with you and Mr Canbrook for a while, just till I get settled in another post, but then I thought, no, I can’t do that. I can’t put my troubles on you.’

  ‘Oh, but Ryllis, I’m sure Alfred wouldn’t mind. He likes you well enough, and I’m sure he’d like to see you happy in another post, particularly after all the heartache you’ve been through.’

  ‘No. No.’ Ryllis shook her head. ‘No, I did think I might ask, but I realise now I can’t. No, I’ve got to go back – and after all, it’s only till Christmas, and then if I feel like it I can go back to Father’s and look after him. I’m sure he’d agree to it then.’

  ‘You might feel differently come Christmas.’

  ‘Yes, I might – and Father might also, come to that – but whatever happens, I shan’t stay with the Lucases. If it don’t suit Father for me to go back to Capinfell, I’ll go somewhere else.’

  Less than an hour later Ryllis prepared to leave.

  ‘I must get back,’ she said.

  ‘Won’t you stay a while?’ Lydia asked her. ‘If you wait till Alfred comes in I’m sure he’ll get out the carriage and drive you to the station. I don’t think he’ll be long now.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, thank you. I don’t want to wait.’

  Lydia helped her with her cape. ‘I’ll walk with you to the station,’ she said.