Every Mother's Son

by Val Wood

  She considered what Harriet Tuke had said about her husband’s helping out, but Melissa did not like the idea of that. If what she thought were true, then she didn’t want Fletcher Tuke here on the estate, or his daughters either, charming and sweet though they were. But what was to be done over that situation? She was very fond of Harriet and considered her to be a friend in spite of their social differences, yet they had only skirted round the edge of the matter for twenty years. Christopher, she thought as she gazed at her husband, was unaware of any rumours concerning him. Melissa had never told him of her fears even though, she thought bitterly, there was someone who could tell and ruin all their lives if she chose to do so.

  As far as she knew, Christopher never saw Ellen Tuke. There was no reason why he should; the bailiff took care of rents from tenant farmers and cottagers and handled any complaints or requirements, and it was foolish, she realized, to fret over what the woman might say or do when she had kept silent for so many years. But fret she did, not always, but from time to time, and it was like having an ominous, threatening cloud hanging over her.

  She debated whether or not to go out into the garden. It was a lovely day with barely a breeze, and she was thinking that the fresh air might dispel the malaise that was troubling her when one of the maids knocked softly on the door.

  ‘Beg pardon, ma’am.’ She spoke in a whisper when she saw Christopher sleeping. ‘Mrs Crossley said would I give this to ’master. Bailiff Thompson came back with it. He said he’d forgotten to mention something.’

  Melissa took the envelope that was handed to her, saying she’d give it to her husband when he woke. It was only lightly sealed and there was no name written on it; she guessed that Thompson must have recalled something he had meant to mention to his employer during their discussion. Should I open it? she thought. Then I might be able to resolve the problem, if that’s what it is, without troubling Christopher.

  The envelope opened easily without recourse to a paper knife and she pulled out a scrap of paper on which Thompson had scribbled a few words.

  The envelope opened easily without recourse to a paper knife and she pulled out a scrap of paper on which Thompson had scribbled a few words.

  Sir, I forgot to mention that Jewitt said a fence is down adjoining his land but that he’s happy to mend it temporarily until we can get one of our carpenters to renew it. The other thing is that about a week ago I saw Mrs Tuke, her who has the cottage by Brough Haven, and she asked would you call. Nothing I could handle, she said, as it was a personal matter. Sorry I forgot to mention it afore.

  Thompson.

  *

  ‘There’s another postcard from Daniel, Ma,’ Maria called up to her mother. ‘Is it all right if I read it?’

  ‘Of course it is. It’s for all of us, isn’t it?’ Harriet shouted down from upstairs where she was changing the bedding. ‘I expect everybody in ’district has read it.’ She came into the kitchen with an armful of sheets for washing. ‘It’s not in an envelope, is it?’

  ‘No,’ Maria said. ‘It’s a card. He says … mm, I can hardly read it, he’s crammed so much on to it. He says they’re in Switzerland, and going to see ’Jungfrau, and planning ’next part of their journey into Italy on horseback, and that Beatrice is going with them, which of course we knew already. She’s so brave, isn’t she? Though I expect she’ll feel safe with Daniel and Charles.’

  She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to break a confidence, but then thought better of it. Beatrice had probably had a schoolgirl crush on Daniel, she thought. He was very handsome, after all. But Daniel was also honest and caring and would never do anything to besmirch a young woman’s reputation, she was certain. Besides, the Hart family were out of their class and therefore out of their reach. She’d told Stephen as much some time ago, when he’d asked if they could be friends. He’d pooh-poohed the idea and said he’d live his life how he wanted to and wouldn’t be hidebound by old traditions. But Maria had been brought up with old-fashioned values, and when her mother had told her that Stephen was destined for a different kind of life from theirs she had listened, and reluctantly avoided meeting him as he had wanted her to.

  Fletcher looked in. ‘I’m going down to Brough,’ he said. ‘Is there owt you want, or would you like to come?’

  ‘I won’t, thank you,’ Harriet said. ‘Maria, do you fancy a ride out?’

  ‘I thought I’d slip in to see my ma,’ Fletcher said. ‘Whilst I’m there, you know.’

  Harriet smiled and shook her head at him. ‘You don’t have to mek excuses about seeing your ma. Not to me.’

  ‘I know,’ he said sheepishly. ‘But I allus come away in a bad mood when I’ve been to visit her, so I’m warning you.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Da. We can tell her about Daniel; another card’s just come. I’ll get my jacket.’

  Whilst Maria ran upstairs Fletcher read Daniel’s card. Harriet leaned over his shoulder to see. ‘He’s having a great time, isn’t he?’

  He nodded. ‘What’s this about Beatrice going with them? I thought she was at school.’

  ‘A finishing school in Switzerland. She’s tekken it into her head to leave and travel with them.’

  ‘How do you know? Do her parents know?’

  ‘Mrs Hart’s had a letter from ’headmistress. I don’t know if she’s told her husband yet.’

  ‘A bit risky, isn’t it? For people like them, I mean. It’s all about reputation, isn’t it, especially for a young woman. Mightn’t it be frowned upon?’

  ‘Possibly by some and mebbe even by her father, but Mrs Hart is more of a free spirit. I reckon it’s ’sort of thing she might have done, given ’opportunity.’

  ‘Well, she’ll be safe enough with our Daniel,’ he said. ‘And her brother too, I expect, although she seems to be a feisty sort of young woman. I reckon she could give anybody a run for their money.’

  On arriving in Brough Fletcher went first of all to pick up some equipment at a farrier’s shop and then headed towards the Haven. The water was calm, with only a slight breeze to ruffle the surface. Climbing up the side of his mother’s cottage door were some early yellow scented roses, planted by the previous tenant, and first Fletcher and then Maria put their noses to them to smell the perfume.

  ‘Your roses are lovely, Gran,’ Maria said in an attempt at conversation after their initial cautious greeting. ‘Are they early this year?’

  ‘No idea,’ Ellen Tuke said brusquely. ‘I didn’t plant ’em. Mrs Marshall did. They come up every year regardless. Shall I put ’kettle on,’ she asked Fletcher, ‘or are you dashing on somewhere else as usual?’

  Fletcher sighed. ‘We’ve time for a cup o’ tea, Ma. Maria came specially to see you.’

  ‘Did she?’ his mother said. ‘Well, there’s a thing. Nowt better to do, had you?’

  Maria blushed, not knowing what to say. ‘I, erm, I’m not in service now,’ she said. ‘I’m helping Ma at home. Dolly’s doing my old job.’

  Her grandmother grunted. ‘Your da must have plenty o’ money to keep you at home. Doesn’t need your wages. Or mebbe your ma can’t manage?’

  ‘She can manage,’ Fletcher interrupted. ‘And if Maria wants to work elsewhere she can, and she can keep her wages or she can work at home for her keep. We’re managing to keep ’roof over our heads.’

  Ellen gave another grunt and made a pot of tea. ‘Do you see much of Master Hart?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Fletcher said. ‘Why would I? He’s nowt to do wi’ us. I own ’land we’re farming – at least Tom and I do. It’s not Hart land.’

  ‘Ma sees Mrs Hart sometimes,’ Maria commented. ‘She drops in to see her if she’s in ’district.’

  Ellen frowned. ‘Who does?’

  ‘Mrs Hart. She calls on Ma sometimes.’ Maria began to wish she’d never mentioned it when she saw her grandmother’s scathing expression.

  ‘Trying to climb up ’ladder, is she, your ma?’ She gave a scornful snigger. ‘She’ll not get fur
ther than ’bottom rung.’ She pushed a cup and saucer towards Maria. ‘Not wi’ her background.’

  Maria stared at her and her eyes filled with tears. But she drew herself up straight and pushed the cup and saucer back to the middle of the table. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as politely as she could, ‘but I won’t have tea after all and I’ll wait outside until you’re ready, Da.’ She left the table and walked to the door, and then, turning, she said to her grandmother, ‘I won’t be calling again. My mother taught me to be polite. What a pity that yours didn’t. Goodbye.’

  ‘Why?’ Fletcher said dismally as Maria went out of the door, closing it firmly behind her. ‘Why do you always have to be so controversial and upset everybody? Maria is ’sweetest girl you could ever wish to meet.’ In truth he was astonished that his daughter had stood up to her grandmother. ‘She’d never do or say owt to hurt anyone, but she’ll stick up for her family, I’m pleased to hear, and especially Harriet. How dare you?’ he went on, anger suddenly rising. ‘How dare you insult her mother in that way?’

  ‘She’s not good enough for you,’ Ellen said prosaically. ‘You could’ve done better if you’d listened to me.’

  ‘We’ve been married nigh on eighteen years and I’ve never met anyone I’d rather be with.’ Fletcher’s voice became heated. ‘I love Harriet. She’s ’onny woman I’ve ever loved and I’ll be with her until ’day I die, and,’ he added, ‘I don’t know why you think you’re such an expert on marriage considering ’success you made of yours!’

  Ellen’s lip curled. ‘Aye, well that’s another story entirely,’ she sneered. ‘And it’s fortuitous that you called today because I’ve made a decision and tekken steps to rectify a few things.’ She pushed Fletcher’s tea towards him. ‘Tea’s getting cold.’

  ‘I don’t want it. It’d choke me. And I’m leaving.’ He looked at her. He was coming close to hating her, and thought what a terrible thing that was to think of his own mother. But if it came to a contest between her and Harriet, it would be no hardship to walk away from her.

  ‘Please yourself. Mebbe you can afford to waste good provisions, but I can’t.’ She eyed him narrowly. ‘But before you go I’ll tell you what I’ve decided on. I spend a good deal o’ time on my own—’

  ‘That’s your own fault,’ he broke in.

  ‘And I spend most of ’time thinking,’ she went on. ‘And so I thought I’d put things right and tell ’truth, bring it all into ’open you might say, ’stead of keeping it hidden as I have done all these years.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Which is why I asked if you saw owt of Christopher Hart.’

  Fletcher swallowed. Dismay filled him. She wasn’t still going on about this crazy idea that he should be Christopher’s Hart’s heir?

  ‘I thought that if you did see him you could be the one to tell him, but no matter. And I suppose it’ll be in your favour when he sees that you’re capable of running your own farm.’

  ‘Get to the point,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What have you done? What mad scheme are you planning?’

  She gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘Not mad. Just ’truth. It’s time my story was told. So I’ve asked ’bailiff to tell him to call. Tell Christopher to call. Telled him to say that it’s a personal matter. I’m expecting him any day now. He’ll know that it’s important.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Melissa left Christopher sleeping in the chair and went out into the garden to wander around the rose beds. The new young gardener understood perfectly what she wanted and had recommended various types of sweet-smelling roses that lasted all summer long. She paused to breathe in one particular deep carmine rose with a fragrant scent. The previous year she had often gathered one or two blooms to take into the house, even though she knew they wouldn’t last so long as on the bush. But she didn’t pick them now; there were many buds still to open and she decided to wait.

  She was uneasy, and had come outside to calm herself. The note from Thompson, which she had left on the side table next to Christopher’s chair, had disturbed her, and she wondered what Ellen Tuke wanted and why she should say it was a personal matter. Should I tell Christopher what I suspect? she thought. And yet if I am wrong about his former relationship with Ellen Tuke and the question mark over her son, would he be angry that I had distrusted him? Would our marriage suffer because of it?

  She walked slowly back to the house and saw her husband with his back to the window, his head bent as if reading something. He’s found the letter, she thought, and was thankful that she had come outside. It will give him time to assimilate the contents, and I’ll know by his expression whether or not he is disturbed by them.

  When she walked into the sitting room Christopher was pacing the floor, the note in his hand. ‘Have you seen this?’ he asked irritably. ‘If it’s not one thing it’s another.’

  ‘It’s from Thompson, isn’t it?’ she wavered. ‘Something he forgot to mention – about a fence? Not like him; he’s obviously not at all well.’

  ‘Not that!’ he said edgily. ‘That’s easily fixed.’ He waved the note about. ‘Ellen Tuke wants me to call on her. As if I haven’t enough to do without trailing down to Brough Haven! It will be nothing that Thompson couldn’t deal with, except that I’ve sent him home and told him to rest.’

  Melissa felt a sense of relief. Christopher had nothing on his conscience after all. Ellen Tuke was merely an irritant to a man who had too much to do.

  ‘Can I help?’ she offered. ‘Shall I go to see her? I could tell her that you are very busy just now with Thompson being ill.’

  He considered for a moment and then sat down. ‘No, that wouldn’t work. She seems to think that because she’s known me for so long she is owed my personal attention.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll go in a day or two. Blasted woman,’ he said beneath his breath.

  When he did decide to visit it was three days later. He had attended to several things that Thompson would normally have dealt with, including sending a carpenter to fix the broken fence, and drafted out an advertisement for a bailiff or farm manager to go into local and national newspapers and farming magazines. ‘I could do with a secretary as well as a bailiff,’ he had complained to Melissa.

  He left the horse and trap at the end of the lane and walked to Ellen Tuke’s cottage. The door was firmly closed, and he cursed beneath his breath. Don’t say she’s out when I’ve come especially, he thought impatiently. He knocked firmly on the door and when there was no response he knocked again.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m coming. Don’t knock ’door down,’ a peeved voice called out, and then came the rattle of a door bolt. Christopher remembered how when old Mrs Marshall was here she always had the door open in the summer, and often sat in her doorway looking out at the rippling water of the Haven.

  ‘Yes?’ Ellen opened the door. It took her a moment to realize that it was Christopher Hart standing there. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’d given up on you. I thought ’bailiff hadn’t given you my message.’

  ‘He did, several days ago, before he went home sick. I am extremely busy and came as soon as I could,’ he said bluntly. She was the only one of his tenants who spoke to him in such a discourteous manner. ‘He didn’t say anything about its being urgent.’

  ‘Come on in,’ she said. ‘I suppose it’s waited so long that a few more days won’t matter, but I want it out in ’open.’

  He refused her offer of a drink, muttering that he had a lot to do, but he sat down at her bidding. She sat opposite him and folded her hands across her apron. ‘It’s good to see you, Christopher. I’ve not seen you in a while,’ she said, her voice becoming girlish in a way that made him wary and was at odds with her initial greeting, her lined grey face and her old-fashioned hand-made pleated bonnet. She looks very old, he thought, older than she should, for she’s younger than I am. Her face was deeply etched with lines, not of laughter but of what looked like a lifetime of bitterness and spite.

  ‘No,’ he said uneasily. ‘Thompson normally handles the tenancie
s and rentals, but he will be leaving soon. As soon as I get a new manager I’ll inform all the tenants that someone else will be calling.’

  She looked sharply at him. ‘I don’t want a stranger visiting me,’ she said. ‘You can call for ’rent when it’s due.’

  He gave a nervous cough. Why did he always feel vulnerable in her company? ‘It’s only due once a year, Ellen. Surely you don’t mind that? Or you can send it with someone. But in any case, I’ll expect the new agent to call to make sure all is well with the tenancy and the property.’

  They stared at each other for a moment and then Christopher cleared his throat. ‘So what was it you wished to speak of that Thompson couldn’t handle?’

  ‘I said it was personal,’ she snapped. ‘We don’t want other folk knowing our business, especially not when I’ve kept it close to my chest all these years. Fletcher’ll be …’ she paused, pressing her lips together as she considered, ‘what, forty-five, won’t he?’

  Christopher stared at her. ‘I have no idea,’ he said, wishing that she would get to the crux of the matter. ‘Look, Ellen, tell me the problem because I really must be going. I have a lot to do.’ He pushed his chair back as if to stand up.

  ‘No,’ she said abruptly. ‘I haven’t even started. We can’t put this off any longer. I want it settled afore I die.’

  ‘Wh— Are you ill?’ he said, startled.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m hale and hearty as far as I know, but we’re neither of us getting any younger and I want my son to have his rightful place.’

  ‘Ellen,’ he sighed, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about and I am so very busy; can you please tell me what it is that’s troubling you? Is your son in difficulties? You know that he’s not one of my tenants, don’t you? But if he’s having problems he’s welcome to come and discuss them with me and I’ll try to advise him.’

  ‘He’s not having problems,’ she said. ‘Not that I’d know if he was.’ She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘But it’s Fletcher we must discuss. I’ve kept quiet all these years, not disturbed you in any way, have I? Not wi’ your mother – she wouldn’t have been pleased, I knew that – nor your first wife either?’