From their first meeting outside The Clipper, Hannah and Will had become friends. Will, a down-to-earth farmer with an outdoor face and an open smile, had never married. He’d never seen the point. His elder sister, Molly, lived in St Morwen with her husband, Jack, and her three young children. Their widowed mother, Grace, kept house for Will and his two younger sisters, Maggie and Lizzie, and they were a comfortable, loving family. Introduction of another woman into the household had, until he’d met Hannah, seemed to Will entirely unnecessary. He was forty now, and no one expected him to marry, least of all himself. Meeting Hannah outside The Clipper that afternoon in September had turned his world upside down. There was something about her that made her, well, different, and he wanted to meet her again, to get to know her. Here she was, a good-looking woman with a strong streak of common sense, who took life as she found it; the woman he thought he’d never meet, who was suddenly making him reassess his ideas. Clearly unafraid of hard work, Hannah had a kind and generous heart, and when his sister Lizzie came home from Trescadinnick with stories of her kindness, his mother sent a message inviting her to visit next time she had a free afternoon. Hannah accepted, and from then on had been spending what little free time she had at the farm.
She was made welcome by all the Shaws, but as they got to know each other, her friendship with Will had deepened to one of great affection, and great satisfaction to them both. Neither of them was of a demonstrative nature, but each had found contentment in the other’s company. This was accepted by his mother and sisters as the most natural thing, and it was in the farmhouse kitchen where Hannah now felt most at home. She had never expected to have a husband or a home of her own. She had imagined that she would remain with Sophie for the rest of her life, acting as nursemaid to Sophie’s children as she had to Sophie herself. She would never leave Sophie, at least until she was happily established with a home of her own, and Will knew and understood that, but their lives were filled with new possibility, a new future.
Now, suddenly, she was leaving, with no more than a brief note of explanation sent home with Lizzie and as the pony and trap carried her further and further away from Will, Hannah had to fight the tears of heartache.
Sophie’s thoughts were altogether different. She knew a great feeling of relief at leaving the strained atmosphere of Trescadinnick. Had Mama known a similar feeling, Sophie wondered, when she had slipped away to marry John Ross?
When Hannah had finally left her to sleep, Sophie had yet again moved the great wardrobe and made her way into Joss’s bedroom. Quickly, she went to the desk and scooped up all the letters in the drawer. No one else wants them, she told her stirring conscience. No one else cares about Joss any more.
She’d taken them back to her own room and they were now tucked into her bag, waiting for further perusal in the quiet of her own home. Home! she thought. She would have to find some form of employment, but she knew that thanks to dear Aunt Matty she had her home for as long as she wanted it.
‘I shall continue to pay your rent, my dear,’ Matty had said when she’d also accepted that Sophie was returning home. ‘No ifs or buts; you’re my niece and if the circumstances had been reversed I know Mary would have done the same for a child of mine.’ Sophie had accepted her aunt’s generosity and they had agreed to write to each other regularly.
But it wasn’t Aunt Matty and her kindness that was at the forefront of her mind as they clopped along the lane to St Morwen; it was Dr Nicholas Bryan. Would he really come and visit her when he was in London? She had seen the admiration in his eyes, and the thought of his lips on her hand made her heart quicken. There was a man who... who what? Sophie didn’t know, but she found herself smiling at the thought of seeing him again.
She was to see him far sooner than she had anticipated, for when they arrived at the little station at St Morwen, Dr Nicholas Bryan was sitting in his gig in the station yard. As Paxton drew in beside him, he got out and came round to hand Sophie down from the trap.
‘I thought you were probably catching the morning train to Truro, Sophie,’ he said, smiling down at her and still continuing to hold her hand. ‘I had business in the town and so I thought I’d come and wish you a safe journey home.’
Sophie felt herself blushing at the warmth in his voice and gentle pressure on her hand. ‘How very kind of you, Nicholas,’ she said, returning his smile.
‘Let me escort you to the platform,’ Nicholas said, offering her his arm as they walked into the station. Hannah, following, bought their tickets, and Paxton called the porter to take their luggage.
As the train pulled into the station, and stopped with a squeal of brakes and an explosion of steam, Nicholas stepped forward and opened a compartment door. Paxton saw their luggage into the guard’s van, while Nicholas saw Sophie and Hannah settled into their seats.
‘I shall look forward to seeing you in London,’ he said as he stepped back down to the platform. ‘In the meantime I hope you have a safe and comfortable journey home.’
Standing at the open window of the carriage, Sophie reached out her hand to him and as he had the day before, he raised it to his lips before releasing it again. Sophie felt her heart skip a beat and smiled up at him with brilliant eyes. ‘I hope you will come,’ she said.
‘Of that you can be sure.’ Nicholas smiled. ‘It’s a promise!’
20
Sophie and Hannah were exhausted when they finally climbed down from the hansom that brought them from the station to the little house in Hammersmith. The journey had been long and this time there had been no private compartment; no overnight stop in Exeter. They had travelled in a third-class compartment from Truro to Paddington, accompanied at various stages of their journey by an assortment of other passengers, including a woman with a basket of hens, a family with two small children who squabbled most of the time and an elderly man who promptly went to sleep and snored loudly until he awoke. They’d had no time to prepare food for the journey, but Hannah went into the market in Truro before the London train came in and returned with a pasty each and some apples. Though they felt uncomfortable eating these with others in the compartment watching them, they’d found them both tasty and filling and were glad to have them.
Sophie turned the key in her own front door and it was with relief that they both stepped into the familiar hallway. The house was cold, but they didn’t mind. They were home and as she closed the door on the dark street, Sophie felt her home wrap around her like a comforting shawl.
Hannah was immediately all busyness, hurrying first to the kitchen to light the range and then to the parlour to light a fire there.
There was no food in the house and so they went to bed hungry, but as Sophie lay in the familiarity of her bedroom, the bedclothes pulled up round her ears for warmth, she knew she had made the right decision. She was home, comfortable with the trappings of her childhood around her.
When she awoke the next morning, it was to find Hannah in the kitchen making breakfast. She had already been to the shops at the end of the road and come back laden with provisions.
It wasn’t until some days later that Sophie had the time to take out Joss’s letters and sort through them. She still set aside, unread, those that bore Cassie’s distinctive handwriting, but looked through others to see if there was anything further relating to their plans to marry. She reread the letter from her mother, but decided she needed to look at the letters she’d found earlier in the bureau to see if any of those came from Joss and threw light on what had happened. She went back to her mother’s desk and taking the letters out, spread them across the table. To her delight there were several from Joss, and she sorted them into date order.
30th September 1861
Dear Mary
You’ll be surprised to hear from me no doubt after so long, but I am in great need of help and don’t know where else to turn. I have fallen in love, and of course as far as Father is concerned, with the wrong woman. Her name is Cassandra Drew and she is the daughter of the
Reverend Nicholas Drew, the Methodist minister in St Morwen. They have very little money and Cassie keeps house for her father and brother, Edwin.
When I told Father about her he forbade me to have anything more to do with Cassie or her family. Running true to form he has other plans for me and my marriage, I know you’ll understand how that feels.
I’d best come straight to the point, Mary, Cassie and I have already consummated our love and now Cassie is expecting our child.
Her pious father has thrown her out, as a dire warning to his flock. Fornication cannot be tolerated by anyone, especially that of his own daughter.
Well, perhaps he’s right, but as it’s too late to worry about that, we have to find the best way forward.
Father, of course, condemns Cassie for being a loose woman while simply proclaiming me a fool to have been so taken in. All blame falls on Cassie, a conniving girl who is trying to trap me into marriage, looking for the social position I can give her. He accuses me of stupidity, but not wrong-doing, saying that all young men have amorous adventures before they settle down. I’m told to pay her off and forget about her.
That of course is ridiculous. I love her dearly and am determined to marry her as soon as I can. I would never desert her and our child.
My problem is that I’m still under age and my father can prevent the marriage.
At present I have appeared to abide by his prohibition and have made no further mention of Cassie or our proposed marriage. I am saving all my allowance to give us a little money to start our married life. If Father knew this he would cut off my allowance now and I would have nothing to save.
Cassie’s sister and her husband have taken Cassie in and though her brother-in-law is not happy with the situation, her sister, Henrietta, has talked him round. Poor Cassie is shut away and allowed no contact with me, but we have managed to correspond through her friend Nan Slater, so she knows that I haven’t abandoned her.
The baby is due in December and as I come of age in early November, that should give us time to get married before the child is born.
I would like to arrange our wedding as soon after my birthday as possible, when I would remove Cassie from her sister’s house and bring her to you.
I know this is asking a great deal of you, Mary, and John, but I don’t know where else to turn. I know you will understand the situation only too well and hope you’ll feel able to give us a home for just a few weeks.
Your loving brother, Jocelyn
Sophie read the letter through twice. What a dreadful situation, she thought, for both Cassie and Joss. How on earth had they got into such difficulties? How had Cassie, the daughter of a Methodist minister, allowed Joss to take advantage of her?
Mary had ensured that Sophie was not completely ignorant of the facts of life. She had some idea of what went on in the marital chamber, but the idea of it happening anywhere else was incomprehensible. Surely Cassie must have tried to stop him. Had he overpowered her? Sophie knew that girls in the lower classes sometimes ‘got into trouble’ but not the sort of people she knew; not her own family... and Jocelyn was her family. She wasn’t surprised to read of her grandfather’s reaction, but how calmly her mother had accepted what had happened. She had not criticized Joss; she had been ready to help him out of his difficulties. Even her father seemed to have accepted that it was too late to do anything but help them make the best of things and try and avoid a scandal.
She reread her mother’s reply to this letter and then turned to the next letter Joss had written.
11th October
My dear Mary
What a wonderful and loving sister you are. You and John are so generous to offer us a home from which to be married. I will be writing to Cassie to tell her about your generosity. I don’t want to burden you with our presence for too long, so while Cassie is safe and comfortable living with her sister, I have suggested she stays where she is until I am of age and can fetch her away. It’s only another few weeks, but I am afraid of alerting my father to my plans while he would still be in a position to stop them. For that reason, too, I haven’t told either Louisa or Matty of the situation. I know they would probably be as scandalized as my father. Louisa anyway. Neither of them have followed their hearts as you and I have done. Of course I am hoping that all the family will accept Cassie once we are married and the baby is born, but if not, well, we shall have each other, just as you and John have.
Please give my heartfelt thanks to John. I know we have placed him in a difficult position and will be eternally grateful for his kindness.
I remain, your loving brother,
Jocelyn
So Matty and Louisa knew nothing about Joss and Cassie, thought Sophie. Did they ever hear about Cassie, she wondered, or did they still not know that their brother had been not only on the point of marriage but also of becoming a father?
There was only one more letter from Joss, obviously in answer to one of Mary’s. It was dated four days before Joss died.
My dear Mary
You ask what Cassie looks like. My simple answer: an angel. She is quite beautiful with shining, fair curls and eyes the colour of cornflowers. She is not tall, only coming up to my shoulder, and delicately made with fine, slender hands. But the best is her smile. Her smile lights up my world. You see, Mary, I am indeed in love; besotted if you will.
I had hoped to come up to London and visit you last week, but my father demanded my attendance that day and as you know I am doing nothing to arouse his suspicions about my movements. He believes that I have done as he instructed and paid Cassie off, and that she has gone from my life, but as you can imagine he wouldn’t approve of my coming to visit you either. I have told him that I have an invitation from a fellow student at Oxford, so should be able to stay away for several days in the next week or so. How I hate all these lies, but until Cassie and I are married there is no escape from them.
I look forward to seeing you very soon and getting to know your John.
Jocelyn
Sophie carefully put all the letters into the bureau drawer. Though she was tempted yet again to read what Cassie had written to Joss, she put her letters, unread, with the others and closed the drawer. Then she sat down by the fire and thought about what she had read. She knew, now, more of what had been planned, but she still had no idea of what had happened next. So many questions flooded her mind. Had he made the promised visit to London? Was that why there were no further letters? Why had Joss been out that cold October night? What had happened to Cassie? What had happened to the baby? Had her mother tried to find Cassie? Where had she been living as she waited for Joss to come and fetch her? Truro was the only indication she’d given in her letters. Had she mentioned her sister’s name? Yes, Henrietta, but Henrietta what? Sophie was almost certain there had been no mention of her surname. She longed to discuss it all with someone and very nearly told Hannah all about it as they shared their supper that evening. But then she would have to admit breaking into Jocelyn’s room and stealing his letters, and her own conscience was troublesome enough about that without adding Hannah’s inevitable comments.
Knowing that she must earn some money, and determined not to be totally reliant on Matty’s generosity, Sophie had contacted the parents of her former piano pupils, Emma and Harriet, to see if they wanted to resume their daughters’ lessons. Emma’s mother replied that they already had found a replacement teacher as Miss Ross was away for so long, but Harriet’s mother had not been satisfied with the replacement she had found and agreed that Sophie should come twice a week and pick up where she had left off.
It was when she had just got in from Harriet’s lesson a week later and was drinking a cup of tea that the doorbell rang. She heard Hannah go to the door and then an exclamation of surprise as she saw who was standing on the doorstep. She heard a man’s voice and then the parlour door opened and Hannah came in to say that Dr Bryan had called.
‘Well, don’t leave him standing in the hall, Hannah,’ cried Sophie, c
olour flooding her cheeks. ‘Bring him in.’
Hannah turned back to the hall, but Nicholas had heard Sophie’s answer and was already stepping past Hannah, into the room.
Sophie greeted him with outstretched hands which he clasped in his own. ‘Nicholas!’ she exclaimed. ‘You came!’
‘Of course I came, Sophie. I told you I would.’ For a moment his eyes roved over her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her neat figure, the glorious colour of her hair. But seeing Hannah waiting at the door, he dropped her hands and said, ‘What a delightful welcome.’
‘Hannah,’ Sophie turned to her companion, ‘please will you make a fresh pot of tea and bring some of those scones you made this morning?’
‘Certainly, Miss Sophie.’ Hannah changed from being close companion to being paid servant and with a bob left the room.
Now, she thought, as she brought the kettle back to the boil and laid out scones, butter and jam on a tray, what on earth has brought him here? And how did he know where to find us?
But when she thought about it, it was plain as a pikestaff why he was here: because Miss Sophie had invited him. The way she had greeted him made that very clear. She had seen the look of delight on Sophie’s face... and what? Something like a flash of triumph in the eyes of the doctor.
What have I missed, down at Trescadinnick? wondered Hannah in dismay. Did I spend too much time with AliceAnne and not notice what was happening in front of me? What will Mr Charles think when he hears that Dr Bryan has been visiting up here? Well, I suppose he’ll never know, for I shan’t tell him. He’s already turned Sophie away. But, she decided, I shall keep my wits about me from now on. Then another thought struck her. Miss Sophie is still under age, so who is responsible for her? Who must be her legal guardian? Her grandfather? Probably, as he was her closest living relative.
Miss Mary’s Daughter Page 21
