He looked perplexed. Miss Finch’s gaze was fixed on Meg’s face and slowly Percy followed suit. Under their scrutiny, Meg could not prevent the colour rising into her face, but she lifted her chin defiantly and stared back at the woman.
‘Look at her, Percy. Just look at that bold, brazen look. My goodness, girl, you’ve a lot to learn. But, if I have any say in the matter, you won’t be learning it in this establishment. Oh, dear me, no.’
‘Clara, my dear, whatever’s the matter? And what has it to do with Miss Kirkland?’
‘I’ve just had a visit from Miss Pendleton.’ The lips pursed even tighter. ‘The wretched woman seems to think that she has some right to be called a friend of the family, when really –’ she broke off and muttered – ‘but that’s another matter.’ She cleared her throat and said loudly, ‘My brother has some standing in the community and I pride myself too that I am a respectable, God-fearing woman—’
‘My dear, of course you are. Who could doubt that fact?’ Percy murmured. He had now looked away from Meg and was anxiously scanning the face of his intended.
Clara turned her eyes accusingly upon Percy for a moment, and under their steely gaze he blinked rapidly. ‘You seem to have forgotten that fact when you brought this – this hussy to work in your establishment. It reflects on me as your future wife whom you employ, you know.’
Percy gasped. ‘Oh, now come, my dear. Miss Kirkland is doing very nicely. The customers – the lady customers, that is – seem most pleased with how she—’
‘Do they indeed? You surprise me, Percy. But then, perhaps I ought not to be surprised. Perhaps they do not know what I know.’
‘What – what you know, Clara?’ Percy stuttered, any composure he’d tried to cling to now draining away.
‘Yes, Percy. What I know. I don’t suppose she has told you herself, has she?’
Percy glanced briefly at Meg and quailed afresh. The girl’s face was fiery with embarrassment, but there was now a spark of defiant anger in those fine green eyes. He felt trapped between the two of them and feared an unseemly scene. Respectable though his fiancée claimed to be, he’d once witnessed her screaming like a fishwife when one of her housemaids had committed some offence. The experience had unnerved him and made him unwilling to set a firm date for their wedding.
‘No,’ Clara continued, ‘I see that she has not.’
‘Erm,’ Percy began, glancing worriedly from one to the other, his greatest fear that a customer would enter the shop. ‘Perhaps you would like to go into the workroom to talk together. It would be better—’
‘What I have to say can be said here, Percy. I don’t mind who hears me.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ Percy muttered.
‘What did you say?’ Clara flashed at him.
‘Nothing, my dear,’ Percy said mildly, but the worried frown did not leave his forehead.
‘Well, then.’ Clara turned her attention back to Meg. ‘What have you to say for yourself, miss?’
Meg took a deep breath and willed herself to speak calmly and respectfully. This was her employer’s fiancée. Percy would side with Clara. It was natural. So, she, Meg, would have to be very careful what she said and how she said it. ‘Miss Finch, I can hardly bring myself to speak of it, it pains me so much. To think that my own mother would act in such a way.’ Meg hung her head as if she bore the full burden of guilt. ‘How am I ever to hold my head up again in respectable society?’ she whispered, trying desperately to give the impression that she was throwing herself upon the other woman’s mercy. For a moment it seemed as if she might have succeeded, for Miss Finch appeared nonplussed by the girl’s dignified answer. But Clara was not yet finished. Her mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘And then, of course, there was your father running off with a girl half his age.’
Meg kept her eyes downcast and her chin trembled. She nodded and allowed tears to splash onto her hands, which she gripped tightly in front of her. Her voice husky, she said, ‘I know. Oh, Miss Finch, I hardly know how to bear it all. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Mr Rodwell putting his trust in me, then – then I truly believe I would not have wanted to live any longer . . .’ She raised her eyes, brimming with tears. ‘But surely a Christian woman like yourself can see that none of it is my fault. What can I do? What can I do?’
‘There, there, my dear girl,’ Percy interposed. ‘We’ll say no more about it. Erm – whatever it is.’ Percy was still partially in the dark. He had no idea what the two women were talking about. He could only murmur, ‘Please, don’t distress yourself.’
Clara whirled around to face him. ‘Her mother has become Isaac Pendleton’s latest – latest paramour.’
Percy blinked and stared down at her for a moment. Then he glanced at Meg and back again to Clara.
‘Well?’ Clara demanded. ‘What have you to say about that?’
Percy frowned and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Erm, well. I don’t really think it is any of our business, my dear. Not really.’
‘Not – our – business?’ Clara’s voice was rising shrilly and Percy put out his hands, palms outwards, trying to placate her.
‘What I mean is – as Miss Kirkland says – it is not her fault—’
‘One is judged by the company one keeps,’ Clara said piously. ‘People will talk, Percy. Believe you me, people will talk and your customers, at least all the lady customers you are hoping to attract, will go elsewhere.’
For a moment Percy looked helpless and then, gripping the tape measure that always dangled around his neck during working hours, he straightened up and declared, ‘Well, I’ll just have to take that risk, won’t I, my dear? I am not prepared to punish this poor girl for something that she hasn’t done. She is to be pitied, not blamed.’
Now it was Clara’s face that coloured, so vividly her complexion was almost purple. ‘Well, really!’ was all she could utter for a few moments. Then the tirade began. ‘You disappoint me, Percy. I would have hoped for better things from you, really I would—’ The shop doorbell clanged and a woman entered the shop, but Clara, in full flow now, did not notice. ‘How can you even consider employing a girl with such connections? Bad blood will out, Percy. Mark my words, it’s in the breed.’ On and on she ranted until even the woman who had entered the shop began to look embarrassed and seemed about to leave.
Meg moved around the counter, eased her way past Clara and stepped towards the newcomer. ‘May I help you, madam?’ she asked politely as if nothing untoward was going on behind her.
The woman glanced towards Clara. ‘I – er—’ she began hesitantly. ‘I was looking for a new hat. I understand that Mr Rodwell is beginning to stock ladies’ fashions and I wondered . . .’
Meg shook her head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, madam. At the moment we don’t stock hats although we may do so in the future.’ Meg spoke carefully, smoothing out the local dialect from her speech. ‘But we do have a wonderful selection of undergarments, if you would care to take a look,’ she added hopefully.
But the customer shook her head, stepped backwards and fumbled for the door handle. Casting one last look towards Clara, she murmured, ‘Perhaps another time . . .’ turned and hurried out.
‘There, you see?’ Clara said at once, gesturing towards the shop door through which the potential customer had just disappeared. ‘That woman didn’t want to be served by a chit of a girl. Really, Percy, can’t you see further than the end of your nose? Ladies want to be served by an older woman. Someone who is discreet and respectable. The kind of woman you need to employ is a genteel kind of woman who has become impoverished through no fault of her own.’
‘Surely Miss Kirkland fits that description?’
‘I said, “impoverished”, Percy. Not a pauper from the workhouse!’ She glared at him, but when he made no reply, she gave an exasperated ‘Huh!’ and turned towards the door. She pulled it open and looked back to launch one last parting shot. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this, Percy Rodwell. If you won’t
listen to me, then perhaps you’ll listen to my brother.’ Her face twisted into a sneer as she added, ‘After all, he does own these premises.’
With that, she swept out, slamming the door so hard behind her that the bell shuddered on its spring for several moments.
Meg was appalled at what she had heard. In her view the woman was hysterical – mad. Even if she disapproved passionately of her fiancé’s employment of Meg, she herself had shown a surprising lack of decorum. But Meg knew she must be careful what she said to Percy. Clara was still his fiancée. She must not forget that.
Now that the shop was empty, she turned tearful eyes towards him. ‘Oh, Mr Rodwell, I hadn’t realized how my family’s troubles might reflect upon you.’ She pulled in a deep breath and took a risk. ‘I should leave at once. I’d hate to lose you custom because of – because of—’ Now she allowed the tears to flow freely down her face. She pulled out her handkerchief and covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably into it.
She felt Percy move to her side and his tentative touch on her shoulder. ‘There, there, my dear. Please don’t cry. I wouldn’t dream of you leaving. You’re doing very nicely here. Very nicely. Don’t worry any more about – about Miss Finch. I will talk to her. Yes – yes, I will talk to her again. She has my best interests at heart. I know that, but – well – perhaps . . .’ His voice trailed away but then he added more firmly, ‘But there must be no more talk of you leaving.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Rodwell. You are good. Thank you.’
He patted her shoulder again and murmured, ‘There, there.’
Behind her handkerchief, Meg smiled.
Twenty
Her heart in her mouth, Meg knocked on the door of Isaac Pendleton’s office. Trying to keep her anger, disgust even, in check, she adopted a docile image. When his voice boomed out telling her to enter, she opened the door and smiled as she stepped into the room.
‘Ah, Meg, my dear girl.’ Isaac rose from behind his desk and came towards her, his arms outstretched.
Meg shuddered but managed to hide her revulsion. ‘I wondered, sir,’ she began meekly, ‘if I might see my mother, if you please?’
‘Of course you can, my dear. You don’t need to ask. My door is always open to you.’ He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against the bulge of his stomach. ‘After all, we are almost family now, aren’t we? I expect you’ve heard that your mother has made me the happiest of men by agreeing to become my – er – um – friend?’
Meg had to clamp her mouth tightly shut to prevent the vitriolic words that were tumbling around in her mind from spilling out. ‘Where – is she?’ she managed to stammer.
‘In my room upstairs. Run along and see her, my dear. I’ll be along shortly.’
Meg managed a weak smile as she pulled herself away from him and left the room.
The stairs leading to the first floor were just outside the master’s room. As Meg put her foot on the first step, she heard a movement above her and glanced up to see Louisa Daley coming down towards her. Meg stood aside and waited until the schoolmistress passed by. At the foot of the stairs, Louisa paused. She smiled uncertainly. ‘Meg,’ she began hesitantly. There was a pleading tone in her voice but Meg only glared back at her, her expression frosty and unforgiving. ‘Meg, please – can’t we be friends again? I am so sorry. What more can I say?’
‘There’s nothing you can say that can undo what happened.’
‘But I’ve apologized about the watch. And as for Bobbie – well – Philip – Dr Collins said there was nothing he could’ve done even if he’d been called in earlier.’
‘There might have been,’ Meg insisted. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to look after him yourself. You should’ve told matron sooner. At least she really cares about the children.’
‘How can you say that? I care, Meg. Really I do.’
The girl was stony-faced and unforgiving.
‘Won’t you believe me, Meg? I truly am so sorry. I know you don’t want to come back to the school room – that you’ve found a nice post in the town. Do you like it? Are they kind to you?’
‘What do you care if they’re kind to me or not? We’re just paupers to you. Not even worth your precious doctor’s attention. And I’m just a common thief, aren’t I?’
‘Oh, Meg, please—’
‘Let me pass.’
Louisa remained where she was, blocking Meg’s path to the stairs. ‘You’re going to see your mother?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
Louisa touched Meg’s arm, still trying to make amends. ‘Things will be better for her now. For you both, now that you’re under Mr Pendleton’s protection. You needn’t think of yourselves as being in the workhouse any more.’
Meg’s face contorted. ‘You don’t think I condone what she’s doing, do you?’
‘But you’ll be set for life now. Isaac – Mr Pendleton – looks after his – his ladies. He—’
Meg thrust her face close to Louisa’s. ‘Then why didn’t you climb into his bed?’
Louisa gasped and drew back. Meg pushed her aside. ‘I’ve nothing more to say to you.’ Without looking back she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs.
‘How could you, Mam? How could you do it? After all you’ve taught me.’
‘Oh, Meggie, please don’t judge me.’ Sarah came towards her daughter, beseeching her for understanding. But Meg refused to reach out to her mother. She couldn’t bear to touch her. Even when Sarah put her arms about her and laid her face against Meg’s shoulder, she did not move, but held herself rigid, refusing to return her mother’s embrace.
‘I feel so alone,’ Sarah whispered. ‘I need someone to take care of me. Of us.’
‘You’ve got me. I’ll take care of you. I’ve got a good job in town—’ Mentally, Meg crossed her fingers, hoping that this was still the truth now Miss Finch had made clear her disapproval. Maybe, with the hold her family had over her fiancé, in more ways than one, Clara might yet persuade Percy to dismiss Meg. The accusation was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. ‘But I might not have now because of what you’ve done.’
Astonished, Sarah pulled back and stared at Meg. ‘What – whatever do you mean?’
Unable to hold back her frustration, Meg blurted out, ‘Mr Rodwell’s fiancée is Miss Finch and she’s friendly with Miss Pendleton and she knows that you – that you’ve become what she calls Mr Pendleton’s latest “paramour”. And all them down there—’ Momentarily, in her anger, her care for her grammar deserted her as she flung out her hand in the vague direction of where the women’s day room was on the floor below. ‘They all know. You should’ve seen them last night when I came home. And as for Waters, she nearly attacked me.’ She forbore to tell her mother that if it hadn’t been for Jake, it would have been she who attacked Waters, not the other way about. ‘One way or another the whole town will know soon,’ she went on, sparing her mother nothing. ‘And if what Miss Finch says is true, then the ladies will stop frequenting Mr Rodwell’s shop.’ She paused and then drove the knife home. ‘And then they might persuade their menfolk to stop too and then where will he be? Not needing an assistant, that’s where.’
‘But Isaac’s kind and generous and he says he’ll look after you too. He’ll look after us both. He wants you to go back into the school room with Miss Daley.’ Sarah gripped Meg’s arm, pleading desperately. ‘Oh, Meg, please, do what he asks. He’ll set us up for life. He’s got contacts. He can arrange for you to become a teacher. Just think about that, Meg.’
The door opened quietly behind them, but they were both so caught up in their conversation that neither of them noticed who was standing there.
‘No, I won’t think about it. I don’t need to. I’m not letting that man rule our lives. Oh, Mam—’ Now it was Meg who took hold of her mother’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake as if trying to instil some sense into the distraught woman, who, in her view, was making a tragic mistake. ‘I do understand how you must feel,
truly. After everything that’s happened, but please don’t do this. Don’t become Isaac Pendleton’s mistress. He’ll cast you off eventually, just like he did Waters. Then where will you be?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘He’s not like that. He – he looks after – even if . . .’ Her voiced trailed away.
‘Look, I was going to tell you last night. There’s some rooms above Mr Rodwell’s shop that I’m sure aren’t used. I’ll ask him if we can live there. Just you and me. I’m sure he’ll say “yes”.’
Slowly, Sarah shook her head and whispered, ‘Meg, I’m sorry, but I need—’
Meg pulled away from her mother. Her green eyes filled with disgust. ‘Then you’re no better than a – than a whore. If you stay here with him, I want nothing more to do with you. Do you hear me?’ Though her voice broke on the final words, she cried, ‘If you stay here, I don’t want to see you ever again.’
The figure in the doorway moved into the room. This time it was not Meg’s ally, Jake, but Isaac Pendleton, who had heard every word of Meg’s final outburst. ‘I think, young lady, you’ve said quite enough.’
Sarah gasped in horror, realizing what he must have overheard, but Isaac moved forward to stand beside her and put his arm around her. ‘Your mother’s quite right. I intended to look after you both. But not now. Oh, I’ll take care of your mother, but not you. From this moment on, my girl, you’re on your own.’
Sarah clutched at the front of Isaac’s coat. ‘Oh, please, Isaac, don’t cast her out into the streets.’
For a moment, he said nothing and Meg could see his internal struggle on his face. ‘Very well, since it is you who ask, my dear, she can stay in the workhouse for the time being.’ He turned back to Meg, his face purple with rage, his eyes bulging. ‘But you will have none of the special privileges you might have enjoyed.’
‘I don’t want them,’ Meg spat back. With one last glance at her mother, she whirled around and ran from the room. As she did so, all she heard was her mother’s pleading, ‘Oh, Meggie, please don’t go. Not like this . . .’
Without Sin Page 14
