‘Welcome home!’ he said to Milly as he handed her the punch, adding courteously, ‘And welcome to you too, Felix. It is good to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard much about you.’
‘And I of you, sir,’ Felix said. ‘Milly never stops talking about you all.’
‘How long can you stay with us?’ Jane wanted to know. ‘You’ll not go rushing away as soon as dinner’s done, will you?’
‘I could stay as long as you’ll have me,’ Felix said, giving her that old shy smile she knew so well. ‘There’s no one at home in Foster Manor except the pater and, truth to tell, he don’t notice whether I’m there or not and Sarah’s got a house full of Livingstons, which makes me a bit of a fish out of water, and Emma’s house is full of Smithson Lumleys.’
‘If that’s the size of it,’ Nathaniel told him, ‘consider it settled. You can stay as long as Milly does and then escort her home again afterwards, which would please us mightily. How would that be?’
There was great satisfaction all round – except for Nat, whose scowl was enough to turn the milk sour.
When Audrey had arrived to take the two children away for their nursery tea, Nathaniel turned to his wife and made a grimace. ‘What was the matter with our Nat?’ he said to Jane. ‘I’ve never seen such a little thundercloud and that’s not like him.’
‘He’s jealous,’ Milly told him.
That surprised him. ‘Jealous?’
‘Of Felix,’ Milly said. ‘He was fairly bristling when Ma kissed him.’
‘Oh dear!’ Jane said. ‘I shall need to set that to rights. I can’t have my poor Nat feeling put out.’
‘Don’ ’ee fret,’ Milly said, smiling at her. ‘Let me read ’em their story tonight and ’twill be right as rain in the morning. I promise.’
Jane was half impressed, half doubtful. ‘How will ’ee bring that about?’ she asked.
‘By magic,’ her daughter said, giving her a wicked grin. ‘I’m a dab hand at magic.’ She knew she was bragging, which wasn’t very admirable, but why shouldn’t she? She was a dab hand. Look how she’d coaxed Arabella and Maria to read.
So that evening, while the others were still dressing for dinner, she went to the nursery. Nat and Mary were bouncing up and down on their beds and Audrey was fussing beside them, begging them to ‘be good children and get into bed, there’s lambs’.
‘I shall count to three,’ their sister said sternly, in her governess voice, ‘and if tha’s not under the covers and quite quiet tha’ll not get a story.’
They were ready as she reached two. ‘Now then,’ she told them, speaking in her own voice, as Audrey left the room, ‘I’ve got a lovely story for you tonight.’
‘But you’ve not brought your book,’ Nat said.
‘That’s on account of this story is in my head,’ Milly said. ‘And all the better for being in such a good place. Now then, are you comfy?’ And when they nodded, she began her tale.
‘Once upon a time there was a little boy. He lived in a mighty big house and had lots of servants to wait on him and plenty of fine things to eat and fine clothes to wear and a pony to ride when he was old enough, so you’d think he was the luckiest boy alive.’ Earnest and happy nodding. ‘But no, I’m sad to say he wasn’t, on account of on the very same day he was born, his dear mama, who loved him very much, the same as your ma loves you, his dear mama took ill and died and the poor little boy was left all alone wi’out a mother to care for him. Wasn’t that the saddest thing? Now then, what could be done about it? His father thought and thought and couldn’t come up with an answer, the servants thought and thought and couldn’t come up with an answer, even the groom thought and thought but he couldn’t come up with an answer either and said they’d probably have to feed the baby to the pigs, like as not.’ Wide-eyed shock. ‘And the poor little baby lay in his pretty cot and cried for his mama. And then, just when they were all at their wits’ end and the poor little baby had cried himself to sleep on account of there was nobody there to cuddle him and feed him, a fairy flew in through the nursery window.’
The two children were transfixed, waiting in silence for the story to go on.
‘She was a very sensible fairy,’ Milly said. ‘Some fairies can be very sensible, you know. “Stop that caterwauling”, she said, “and let me think what’s to be done. I can’t think if you mek a row.” So they all stopped crying and stood where they were and they waited. “’Tis plain for to see,” the fairy said, “that what this baby needs is another mother.” And she waved her wand, so that sparkles flew in all directions like fireflies, and a beautiful lady walked in through the door. She had lovely thick dark curls on her head, and the finest brown eyes you ever saw and the gentlest face and she was wearing a shawl made of very soft wool in every shade of pink and blue and lilac.’
‘Like Mama,’ Nat said. ‘She’s got a shawl like that.’
‘And gubs,’ Mary put in.
‘And gloves,’ Milly agreed.
‘Like Mama,’ Mary decided.
‘Quite right,’ Milly said, ‘she was very like your mama, with her dark hair and her kind heart. The spit and image, you might say. And when she saw the poor little motherless baby a-lying in his cot with the tears still wet on his poor little face, she picked him up straightaway and gave him the biggest cuddle ever. And so she became his mother and fed him and looked after him until he was a big boy and had to go away to school. And even though he’d had a reet bad start in his poor little life, he ended up such a happy baby that they called him Felix, what means happy. Did ’ee know that?’
‘Felix?’ Nat said.
‘Aye.’
‘The one what’s come here to stay?’
‘Aye. The very same. The one what’s come here to stay.’
Nat considered this for quite a long time. ‘Did his mama die, like you said?’
‘She did.’
‘On the day he was born?’
‘She did. And then our mama, what has the kindest heart on the world, as tha knows, she picked him out of his cradle and cuddled him and looked after him, and that’s why he’s so fond of her. I think she’s the kindest mama ever and that’s the best story ever. Don’t you?’
He considered again and then smiled at her. ‘Yes,’ he said.
And Mary echoed him. ‘Yes.’
‘Now settle to sleep,’ Milly said, stooping to kiss them both, ‘and if tha’rt good, tomorrow we’ll play Bears. Felix is top-notch at Bears.’
So despite its rather precarious start, it turned out to be a very happy holiday, their easy world shining with snowfall, the Christmas goose cooked to succulent perfection, the presents splendidly successful, and Bears every afternoon. Nathaniel said he’d never had such a rollicking Christmas and when he said goodbye to Milly and Felix he told them he hoped he would see them both again ‘very soon’.
‘Oh you will, sir,’ Felix assured him. ‘You will.’
‘I’ll be back at Easter,’ Milly promised as she kissed her mother. ‘Save me some of the plum cake.’
‘That’ll be gone long afore Easter,’ Jane laughed. ‘We’ll need to bake a simnel cake if ’ee wants cake.’
‘Look after our Milly,’ Nathaniel said as he shook hands with Felix.
The answer was as solemnly given as a vow. ‘You may depend on it.’
And then they were both climbing into the coach and Milly was waving through the little window and the horn was sounding and the horses were snorting and the holiday was over.
‘I like your Felix,’ Nathaniel said to Jane as they walked back home. ‘He’s a gentleman.’
‘He is,’ Jane agreed. ‘A proper gentleman.’
They crunched over the trodden snow for several happy seconds. ‘If you ask me,’ Nathaniel said, ‘I think he’s sweet on your Milly.’
‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Quite possibly.’
‘Very possibly,’ Nathaniel said. ‘The signs are there.’
‘’Twill be a boy and girl affair,’ Jane told him. ‘They�
�re too young for owt else, which is just as well to my way of thinking. If they were serious, his father’d have summat to say.’
‘Aye,’ Nathaniel said. ‘Possibly.’
‘There’s no possibly about it,’ Jane told him. ‘His father’s a stickler for family alliances and obedience and that sort of thing. He’ll want him to marry a duchess, at the very least, if I’m any judge of the man. He’d not tek kindly to our Milly.’
‘Our Milly’s the equal of any duchess,’ he told her, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. ‘Howsomever, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. They’re young yet. You’ve the right of that. Much could happen in the meantime. There are changes coming.’
Milly and Felix talked about their holiday all the way back to Cross Lanes where Felix had arranged for the dog cart to meet them and the coach stopped to put them down. But when it had rattled away and left them standing on the snow-trodden path in a desert of snow-covered fields with a keen wind blowing, there was no sign of a cart and no sound of one either.
‘It will be along presently,’ Felix said, with a confidence he didn’t feel. ‘We could walk and meet it, if you’d care to. We’ve only got our travelling bags and I could carry them. Easily. And we’d have the wind at our backs. What do you think?’
So they walked, with the wind at their backs, and after a while, because her hands were cold even in their gloves, she took his free arm and walked as close to him as she could get. And since they were on their own in an empty countryside, with no one to hear them, they began to talk rather more freely than they’d dared to do when they’d been in company.
‘It was so good to see your mother again,’ he said, ‘even if it did upset young Nat.’
‘He got over it,’ she said happily.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘How did you persuade him? I didn’t like to ask while we were …’
‘I told him a fairy story,’ she said, and explained. ‘About a little boy who lost his mother when he was born and how a fairy godmother came and waved her magic wand and a beautiful lady came to look after him.’
‘That accounts for his question,’ he said, when she’d finished.
‘What question?’
‘He asked me if I’d really lost my mother on the day I was born. I told him I had but I did wonder why he’d asked.’
They walked on, thinking all this over. ‘We have a lot in common,’ he said at last, ‘apart from the fact that your mother brought us both up, which is the most important thing. We’re both orphans, are we not? I lost my mother on the day I was born and you lost your father even before you were born.’
‘Aye. I did. But then there are lots of orphans. There’s nowt unusual in being an orphan. Happen that’s why there are so many in fairy stories.’
‘You and your fairy stories,’ he said.
‘There’s a deal of truth in a fairy story, I’ll have ’ee know.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘There is. You’re right. Your mama and Mr Cartwright are like a fairy story.’
That was intriguing. ‘How so?’
‘They married for love,’ he said, ‘like Sleeping Beauty’s mother and father, which is a rare thing.’
‘Aye,’ she said, thinking of the Hudsons, ‘so it is.’
‘It made me feel happy to see them so happy, if that’s not a foolish thing to say.’
She didn’t think it was.
‘If I had a fairy godmother,’ he said, ‘to come and wave her magic wand for me, that’s what I would wish for. In fact, if I tell you the truth, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’ Then he was lost for words, and stood looking at her while he changed the bags from his right hand to his left, wondering whether it was a proper time to tell her other things.
‘There’s the cart a-coming,’ she said, winding her muffler more closely round her neck.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, although he was secretly flooded with disappointment because they were going to be interrupted at such an inopportune moment and there were so many things he wanted to say to her. However, by the time Jenkins brought the cart to a slithering halt alongside them he had recovered his balance and was back to his public persona again, handing the young lady into the cart and giving the luggage to the servant like the gentleman he was. There would be other times. He knew he would have to ride to Oxford as soon as they got back to Longfield Hall because that was arranged. But he could always write to her.
He wrote as soon as he got back to Oxford and the letter was delivered to her at breakfast the next morning. She was careful not to open it until she was alone in her room. It would never have done to read it in front of all the others. But it was worth the wait for it began ‘My dearest Milly’. The words made her feel quite overcome. She had to sit down on the bed before she could go on reading.
I hope you will forgive me for addressing you in such an informal way,’ he wrote, ‘but we are both orphans, after all, and were both raised by the same good woman and I felt I could scarcely address you as Miss Smith. It was such an enjoyable holiday I haven’t digested it all yet. I do so hope we can visit with your mother and Mr Cartwright again very soon.
‘I will visit the bookshops tomorrow and see whether I can find you any other fairy stories since I know they are dear to your heart.
‘Meantime, I remain your fellow orphan,
‘Felix.’
She put the letter in the top drawer of her chest of drawers, hidden away underneath her petticoats. And that night, when the day’s work was done and dinner was over, she sat down at her dressing table under the gaslight and wrote him a long reply. My dearest Milly, she thought as she settled in her bed. Oh my dear Felix. Am I truly your dearest? Really truly? The words had turned her life upside-down. I should so love to be your dearest.
17
IT WAS THE new year of 1835 and change was coming to the city of York. It wasn’t just the railway – most people knew that was on the way and were either looking forward to it or deploring it – it was change of a political kind and that was a thing very few of them expected. York had been a staunch Whig town ever since most people there could remember. So when it was announced that there was to be an election for a Member of Parliament, they assumed that a Whig would be elected. But they were reckoning without Mr George Hudson, who took immediate action to ensure that, this time, young John Henry Lowther, his favoured Tory candidate, would be the one to win.
‘High time the Whigs were ousted,’ he said to the Tory election committee. ‘They’ve had t’run of t’mill for a deal too long. Give me a list of all the electors and let’s see if I can persuade ’em.’
He was persuasive to the tune of several thousand pounds and when some of his fellow Tories worried that what he was doing might not be completely legal, he laughed them to scorn.
‘What’s “legal” to do wi’ it?’ he scoffed. ‘What counts is brass, gentlemen, brass and influence, and there’s brass in t’kitty. Don’t you worry about that. I matched old Sir John Lowther pound for pound, right back at the beginning. Now all we have to do is spend it to good purpose. Don’t fret about niceties. Leave that to lesser men. Now’s the time for banquets and junkets and standing a few drinks and slipping a few pennies in a few pockets. Electors are an empty-headed lot and empty heads can be swayed.’
As it turned out. To the Whigs’ annoyance and amazement, it was John Henry Lowther who was returned to Westminster as Member of Parliament for the City of York. George was cock-a-hoop and threw a party to celebrate, naturally, and got splendidly and uproariously drunk, naturally. And while he was still well oiled and exuberant, he posted a sovereign to every voter he’d swayed by way of a thank-you present.
His detractors were appalled at such behaviour. ‘Showing off,’ they said to one another. ‘Flashing his money about it. No good’ll come of it.’
George let it all roll off his shoulders. They were plenty broad enough. His man had won and that was what mattered.
> ‘Now,’ he said to Lizzie as they were finishing their lunch the next day, ‘I can build as many railways as I want and be sure of an Act of Parliament to support ’em instead of kicking my heels for months waiting for some blamed fool at Westminster to tek pity on me. James Meek’s not an earthly bit of use. ’Tis pointless waitin’ for him to do owt.’
Lizzie became aware that he was waiting for her to say something. ‘I thought I might just walk down to t’shop,’ she offered, ‘if that’s agreeable to ’ee. To have t’children measured for some new clothes. Well, the three eldest I mean, not Baby. He can manage a bit longer I daresay, being a baby. But George is such a big boy now and he’s grown right out of his little jacket, you can see all his wrists, and what I can say about Ann’s little dresses I really don’t know. I mean for to say they don’t fit at all – I mean not as they should. She can get them on, I’ll grant that, but they’re such a tight fit her little arms are all stuck out sideways.’
‘You’ve not been listening to a single word I’ve been saying,’ George said, hot with exasperation. ‘Not one single blamed word.’
‘Oh no, George,’ Lizzie flutttered in some panic. ‘I wouldn’t want ’ee for to think that. I’ve been payin’ the greatest attention. I allus do.’
‘Greatest attention my aunt fanny,’ her husband said and left her.
‘He was that cross, you wouldn’t believe,’ Lizzie said to her brother half an hour later. Since their sister’s death two years ago, the two of them had grown so much closer to one other that she felt she could confide in him. ‘I do try to listen, tha knows that, I allus do, I’d not be much of a wife to him if I didn’t, but this talk of railways and elections and whatnot is mortal hard on the ears.’
‘Lift your arms up, Georgie,’ Richard Nicholson said to his nephew, who was standing on the counter being measured. ‘How would ’ee fancy the blue wool for his jacket, Lizzie? ’Tis all the rage this season and I could give ’ee a good price.’
Off the Rails Page 20
