The Glovemaker's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  ‘Therefore of all people thee will understand that until I am convinced of the rightness of this decision to give my gloves away, it would be wrong to release these tokens just because it is asked of me. As yet I don’t feel or hear such a prompting myself. That time will come but it is not now. My heart is telling me that. That is all I am guided to say,’ I said, sitting down, shaking with the effort of such boldness.

  There was a deafening silence; a ripple of mutterings and other matters were raised for discussion. Soon the matter of my gloves was forgotten in the general morass of the women’s affairs.

  When the meeting was broken up and I rose to leave, one of the elders tapped my arm. ‘There is a gift of preaching within, my dear. Thy words spoke to my heart in their plain sincerity and directness. Think on, lass. This is the most precious gift in thy possession. What will thee do with it?’

  To my surprise she was not the only woman to comment on my delivery and the content of my argument, which puzzled me. I had no idea now what I had said and why some were so affected. In truth I could not recall a single word I had spoken. Tabitha was quiet on the matter but Ellinor smiled with a sparkle in her eye as she pointed to the stool set out for someone to address the assembly.

  ‘I want to see thee on that raised tub. There’s always a place for a woman of Truth to raise her voice. Now I have found my travelling partner. We can go from place to place to preach the acceptable day of the Lord.’ I didn’t understand then what she was getting at.

  Next First Day Meeting I was in my usual place at the back, hushing the twins and nursing Will. There were some glances to see if I would stand again but there was nothing to say and nothing would induce me to speak in mixed company.

  ‘I like to see modesty in a preacher. My daughter tells me that thee is quite the little firebrand,’ John Holt laughed. ‘Don’t expect the words to come at thy bidding, lass. The spirit of truth lists where it wills. We’re never its masters, only its servant.

  ‘Young Ellinor has spoken of your gift. She’s eager for you both to be on the road but that is not our way. It has to be agreed by everyone that you can be released from present service into this service. It is not an easy path to tread. We might all find ourselves back in the jail ere long so we need every preacher that we can muster if this town is to be saved from the Day of Judgement.’

  What could I do but smile and thank him. I had no calling to go bog trotting. I was not fit to wipe Ellinor’s shoes when it came to holy conversation. She studied and prayed and attended every weekday meeting. She was obedient to her heavenly vision from dawn to dusk. My heart was always hankering after forbidden fruits: music and dancing and the arms of Miles Foxup around my waist. What use could I be to them in this condition?

  Yet the thought of wandering abroad was tempting. It soothed my restless spirit to explore new places. How could I leave the household or live entirely from the gifts and sacrifices of other friends, dependent on the succour of strangers like our founder George Fox and his valiant preachers who never knew where they would lay their heads? Besides I had never given witness to my faith in public. With Ellinor by my side, though, I would come to no harm and it might be a great adventure to live as my father had done for a while.

  Such thoughts were quickly countered by the prospect of leaving Leeds and missing the chance to bump into Miles again. It was exciting to know he was but a mile away. He was the link with the high dales and my grandfather. I sat down and wrote a long letter to my uncle Windebank telling them about the gloves and the jail and my first speaking at meeting. I wanted him to know that coming here was a true guided path and not an indulgence. I had forgiven him that he did not recommend me to the meeting. I hoped now that he saw me in a different light. I waited and waited for his reply but none came. Soon there were more serious matters on my mind.

  Friends make no secret of their meetings. Notice of the next gathering was nailed to the tree close to the lane for all to read and join. It was forbidden for more than five adults to meet for worship but the law was not enforced when the local constable was on duty. Then for some reason the raids began again.

  For months there had been little interference but suddenly the silence was interrupted by loud bangings on the door of friend Proctor’s barn. Everyone was hustled out by the constable’s men and marched off to appear before the court on a charge of Riotous Assembly.

  It would have been a peaceable assembly if the drunken louts from the Bear Pit tavern had not decided to join in the fun of pelting the prisoners with dung and shouting obscenities in the women’s ears as they huddled past. One of the visiting preachers, Jacob Wrathall, started to protest at this behaviour and was kicked about the head for his trouble but not before he had dealt out a deal of punishment himself, so Ellinor told me later, being mightily impressed by his ardent spirit.

  I was not present at that meeting, being needed at the Riverbank to nurse little Will who had a fever. Zeph was worried about Tabitha who was abed with sickness and for once our household was absent. It would now be up to us to visit and make provisions for nearly the whole meeting who were shoved into the lock-up with barely room to stand. For days I ordered Tamsin and Susanna, Hiram and Hepzy to help me find enough food and necessities for the prisoners. We took broth to John Holt and sat with him while Zeph summoned help to defend the Friends from another long sentence.

  They were released in dribs and drabs, bedraggled and weary but strong in spirit, having kept themselves cheerful with singing praises. Ellinor was full of praise for the new preacher, Jacob Wrathall, who kept everyone enthralled with his stories of Sufferers in other counties who defied the priests and justices. I was looking forward to meeting such a valiant witness for our cause but aching with tiredness having kept the household going with all the havoc around us.

  Perhaps now everyone was relieved of cloth and cows and cash, the constables would leave us alone but other tests of faith were on the way.

  First came the sudden loss of little Will. He did not survive the crisis of his fever and slipped from us quietly early in the morning. Zeph and Tabby were silent in their grief. Samuel made the box and the children covered his shroud with rosemary and leaves. We buried him in the field by Meadow Lane that was laid aside for Friends and when I wept Zeph took my hand.

  ‘Don’t be sad, lass. Think of his great happiness. He’s passed his sojourn here in such a little time and now he’s safe in his Father’s bosom where he’s at peace forever more. Be sad for us who must trundle on this earthly road for a great while longer.’

  How could I not be sad for a little lad who would never run in the poppy fields or splash in the River Aire, suck a toffee apple or climb a tree?

  We prepared a special meal for the mourners. Tabitha was up early to oversee the preparations, struggling to stay on her feet but steel-eyed in her determination to greet her guests. By the evening we were relieved to see them all gone but Elders Houldsworth and Horner stayed on in the chamber, smoking pipes with Zeph while we cleared around the menfolk with a sigh wishing them gone too.

  Suddenly there was noise in the yard and the kitchen door flew open. Ellinor and her father were shoved into our hall by the new constable, Caleb Black, and his men at arms.

  ‘What have we here?’ he laughed. ‘Yet another illegal gathering of strangers. I want all your names on my list.’

  ‘This is disgraceful,’ Zeph stood tall. ‘These are my friends come to comfort us. Be gone with you, we’ve done nothing wrong! Ellinor is part of our household. Her spinning wheel is across this wall. What do you want with us? Haven’t you had enough? Can’t you see Friend John here is a sick man and it is a cold night?’

  ‘Just as we thought, crafty as ever, we knew you’d have an answer but we know your little tricks! Bring in the others!’ he yelled. Through the door came Peg and Bryan Appleyard from down the lane. ‘Now there’s a funny thing. Five strangers and a houseful of servants all in their best clothes. If that’s not a meeting then I’m a Turkey m
an!’

  ‘This is a house of mourning,’ said John Holt. ‘Where is your heart, young man? They buried their child this morning. We were guests at his wake and departed soon after. Do not cause them more distress.’

  ‘A likely pack of Quaker lies! I’ll give you lot this much . . . you’re mighty quick on your feet to argue against the facts. The law is the law. Let’s be having you! No more arguments or it will be the worse for you.’

  They dragged the men down into the town. Ellinor ran after her father and took his arm to steady him. Zeph turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury. ‘Write it all down, Rejoice. These sufferings must be recorded and sent to the Justice. We have witnesses to this trickery. Take care, my sweet,’ he mouthed to his wife who was sat in shock on the bench unable to speak, breathless with fear. ‘The Lord will have his vengeance.’

  ‘Aye, Constable Blackheart,’ I shouted down the lane. ‘Before this winter is out, thee will freeze for this mighty coldness. It will lay thee so low the ravens will pick thy bones . . .’ My words came from somewhere deep. I could not stop them. The man turned on me with venom. ‘And I’ll have that wench for a witch. Watch thy step, Quakeress!’

  ‘Why do they hate us so much?’ I cried, suddenly shivery with fear. Tabitha was in tears and the children stood wide-eyed with fear watching their father removed from them by force yet again. Would this persecution ever stop? Once more our household was defiled by cruel men. How could we bring this trickery to light?

  I had to be strong for Zeph’s family and find someone to give me sound advice. There was only one name on my list and I must ask him again for help in this matter. He was the only worldly man I could trust.

  I penned a note next morning and sent Hiram running to the Briggate to deliver it to the lodgings of Abel Webster. Zeph would be pleased with my prompt action but I told no one else. I asked Miles to meet me on the bridge and I did not care who saw me this time.

  He was standing in the midst of the throng with eyes scanning the thoroughfare for my arrival. I made to hurry past him just nodding briefly, hoping he would follow me down to the river path.

  ‘What do you want of me now?’ he bowed, raising his hat in a mocking gesture. ‘I see neither hide nor hair of you for months and then I am summoned. Not a word of thanks for paying your fine but here I am at your beck and call once more. I think I’ve paid you back for all my Yuletide rudeness by now, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was amiss of me not to thank you for the Justice’s letter but never pay my fine again. It’s not our way.’ I stared up at him full on with no mock modesty as do carnal girls who flutter their eyelashes and lower their eyelids like fans.

  ‘Don’t worry. You can rot in jail next time, young lady. I’m finished with all that mullarkey. My Master says I must have no more dealings with Quakers. So what’s it now?’ I could see he was impatient to be off to his work. ‘Did you want to languish in that smelly pit?’

  ‘They would release me soon enough,’ I replied defiant.

  ‘Don’t be so sure. People get forgotten in dungeons. What is it with you people?’

  ‘Come to our meetings and you will see,’ I said with a smile and some hope: How handsome he was, how sharp-eyed. I liked the way he spoke as he found. He would make a good Seeker once the edges were rubbed off him.

  ‘No thank you, I’ll refrain from that pleasure, if you don’t mind. Once a week at the Saint Peter’s church is enough for me. What’s happened now? Spit it out . . .

  I told him about the raids and Will’s burial and the trumped up charge. I told him about Ellinor and her sick father, Zeph and Tabitha’s troubles; all my woes tumbling out like a ripped sack. ‘They forced five people into the house to catch us out. It’s not fair! Why does Black do this? The other constable would give us warning of a raid and time to hide stuff away from them when they came to take goods for our fines.’

  ‘Ah hah! So Quakers are not above a little deceit themselves,’ he laughed. ‘New broom sweeps clean, they say. Perhaps the new man wants to rule his patch in a different way through fear. Who knows what goes on in a man’s head when there’s money and goods to be distrained and sold for a profit?’

  ‘So how can I get justice,’ I pleaded. fearing he was bored with my request.

  ‘I’ll ask Abel for guidance but he deals with merchant law and business not criminal affairs.’

  ‘We’re not criminals!’ I argued.

  ‘They see you as a threat to law and order, that’s for sure. But how are you, stranger?’

  ‘I was content until all this happened. My mistress is with child and now little Will is dead.’ Tears filled the corners of my eyes. ‘I’m so worried for them.’

  He stood over me, staring down with concern. I wanted to reach out for his hand but knew I must not.

  ‘You people breed like rabbits. I don’t suppose there’s anything else for you to do!’ he laughed. The spell was broken.

  ‘Miles Foxup, why must thee say such things?’

  ‘Sorry but it is such a waste of a pretty face to see you trussed up in your black bonnet and plain stuff. I bet you miss that blue gown and the ringlets . . .’

  ‘No I don’t!’ I snapped, not daring to look up at him for fear of blushing.

  ‘What is it about you, Joy, that makes me run to your beck and call? Why should I bother with your sort? All for one brief glimpse of that pert chin and bright gaze flashing a cheeseparing of gratitude in my direction when all I want is to twirl you round and round and hang you on my arm at the dancing. The Justice is not a well man, living alone without kin. How could you leave the old man to be a servant in a weaver’s cottage?’

  ‘It’s not just weaving and spinning at Riverbank. It’s a cloth merchant’s house with a parlour and upper chamber,’ I replied, hoping to impress.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘So Quakers have proud ambitions too. You could be an heiress one day, Joy, free to choose your own path. Why must we skulk around as if it is forbidden to talk one with another?’

  ‘I’m not here to dress up or be shown off like some vase of flowers. I need your help. I’ve no one else to turn to . . .’

  ‘And if you did . . .Would you then summon me into your presence?’ he snapped.

  ‘I’m not sure. We live in different worlds. Our ways are not your ways. It does your prospects no good to be seen with the likes of me; Quaker rabble. I know what they call us.’

  ‘If only you’d lighten your step and let me escort you. There’s so much to do here, music and plays and dancing, walks in the park. It would be fun to share it with you.’

  ‘Here we go again, it’s what you want all the time. There must be plenty of lasses happy to simper on your arm night and day,’ I said, feeling cold inside.

  ‘Of course, there are. Even Abel has a fine daughter called Melinda who plays the virginal and sings to me whenever I call.’

  ‘Well take her then, ‘I snapped, seeing in my mind’s eyes a beautiful lass bedecked in pink ribbons and curls smiling at him from the keyboard. I hated even the very name.

  ‘I do believe thee’s jealous,’ he mocked our speech, seeing the look on my face.

  ‘Not at all,’ I replied, trying not to look flustered. ‘We just don’t approve of such time-wasting.’

  ‘Don’t be so superior, it doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ I was losing my temper and raising my voice.

  ‘No, you listen to me. You can’t have it both ways, Miss Sobersides Moorside; the Puritan prim way you tell me you prefer, or me dangling at your command every time there’s a crisis. It’s one or the other.’

  ‘I came to ask for your help,’ I pleaded, standing firm against such a strong temptation to burst into tears.

  ‘I can see that, and I’ll do what I can but you keep me on a short tether: good old Miles, he’ll do the hard work and get no thanks for it.’

  ‘What thanks do you want other than to see justice is done?’ I said.

  �
�I just want to see the light flashing in your eyes, a little desire in them that you want my company. That would do for now.’

  ‘I can’t be seen out with . . .’

  ‘Someone like me. The same old story, isn’t it? Am I not good enough for a Quaker lass?’ His dark eyes were pleading with me and I shook my head.

  ‘Come to our meeting. Judge us for thyself then and not on hearsay.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, is it? If I came they’d still not approve of me seeing you, unless I became one of them.’

  ‘It’s not like that . . .’ My heart was sinking at his words, all the hope draining like water from a leaky boat.

  ‘I’ve not got time for all this, Joy. You’re only young the once and I don’t intend to spend it wearing drab cloth and preaching on street corners. You’re a pretty lass, but not that pretty that others can’t rival your charms. It’s up to you. I don’t intend to stay in Leeds forever,’ he said, his eyes staring ahead.

  ‘Leaving for where?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t know, it depends. There’s a whole world out there to explore, London, Bristol, the continent. Don’t worry, I’ll try and sort out your mess once more and then you can be shut of me.’

  ‘Don’t be bitter, please. I am trying to be true to the Truth as we see it.’

  ‘And I to mine; pity they are so different. The choice is yours: Friends or this friend,’ he whispered. I looked up and his eyes were glazing, already bored with our talk.

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ I replied.

  ‘Life isn’t fair. I’ll be seeing you or not. It’s up to you. I think you’ve had your shilling’s worth of me.’ He raised his hat, bowed and swept out of view without a backward glance.

  Why did I feel so sick to the stomach? We had met only a few times and danced a little, flirted a little. He had given me my first kiss on the lips. Why did all my senses cry out that on such stern choices would the course of my future life now hang?

  If I ran after him to please his will I would be walking away from everything that had brought me to this place. If I stayed rooted to this spot then he was out of my life forever and I’d never know what a precious journey we two could have made together or how his spark would have fired the flax within me; the swagger of his walk, the flash of his smile, the strutting cockiness of his youthful arrogance. He had it all and I was letting him walk away into Melinda’s welcoming arms, no doubt. Why couldn’t there be a middle way to walk together?