by Gracie Hart
‘Do you have to mention that man? I’m trying to put him out of my mind. I am hoping that we’d both be too busy for me to dwell on that night, what with your idea to make your own clothes, and if I continue trading with Ma Fletcher and making something out of nothing we will be able to pay our way in the world. The less I hear about Edmund Ellershaw and his son the better.’ Mary-Anne wiped a tear away from her eye and concentrated on organising the drawer that held their supplies of bobbins and lace without even looking up at Eliza.
‘I’m sorry, Mary-Anne. Me and my big mouth. I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.’ Eliza put down the material and hugged her sister tight. ‘Now, you’re right, let’s keep busy – I can get a move on making our first dress from scratch and you can deal with the second-hand side, that will work well.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mary-Anne sobbed. ‘It’s just I can’t get that horrible night out of my head and I am so worried that I will be forced to do the same again at the end of the month!’
‘You will not have to go through that again! I will make sure of that, I promise. Now pass me the cutting shears and let us make a start with our new venture.’ Eliza smiled ‘The sooner we get a new dress in the window the better. We might not want to see Edmund Ellershaw or his snobby son, but we do need his daughter Grace to call upon us.’
Seventeen
‘Your William is so handsome, does he not have a beau?’ Priscilla Eavesham giggled and smiled at her friend, Grace, as her brother gave the group of ladies his apologies for not accepting their invitation to join them for tea.
‘No, he’s quite the bachelor. Although what you see in him, Prissy, I do not know. He can be the most trying of brothers some days, just like he is today, skulking around, like a bear with a sore head. In fact, I’ll let you into a secret but you must not say anything to him …’ Grace whispered low to the group of four young women who were gathered around the table in the parlour at Highfield House. ‘But then again perhaps I should not. If he found out that I’d betrayed his secrets he’d be most vexed.’ She quickly re-thought the confidences that he had told her in a moment of weakness.
‘Oh, Grace! You’ve got to tell us now that you’ve started. Else you are just a tease,’ Prissy gasped.
‘I really shouldn’t say.’ Grace looked at her friends and knew that she had their attention, as they all leaned in like a witch’s coven to hear the words they knew she could not keep to herself. ‘He’s returned from Cambridge with a broken heart …’
The three young women breathed in sharply at the same time and looked at one another waiting for the next sentence.
‘Even my father doesn’t know about it, he just thinks William has given up on his studies. All he does is mope about the house, lost in his poetry. Although he did show some signs of his old self when I went to that little shop I was telling you about and a girl with red hair caught his eye. He even sent me in the other week to see if she was there, but alas I had to tell him it was only the younger sister that was serving that day.’
‘The shop where you got your beautiful green dress from?’ Jessica Bentley asked.
‘Yes, he even told Father how good-looking she was. So there are signs that he’s recovering from his heartbreak, if a pretty girl can attract his attentions.’ Grace sat back in her chair and sipped her tea.
‘A common shop girl? What has she got that we haven’t?’ Priscilla said crossly. ‘It’s clearly not money or position!’ Priscilla Eavesham thought of herself as one of the finest catches of the district, what with her father owning Leventhorpe Hall and, while her father might be from new money, it was only a matter of time she thought before she landed herself a suitable husband.
Jessica Bentley looked at Priscilla. ‘Men may want a girl with a sizable fortune, Priscilla, but they don’t always want marriage. The girl is obviously pretty, else he wouldn’t be showing interest in her. Why don’t we pay the shop a visit, and see this auburn-haired beauty for ourselves? She obviously has more than us ladies can offer William, else he would be here enjoying our company.’
‘Yes, we’ll do that and perhaps purchase something, especially if they have dresses as beautiful as the one you wore to the ball, Grace,’ Sarah Marsden, the quiet one of the group, added.
‘I should say that neither of the girls have done anything to encourage my brother’s interest,’ Grace said swiftly, her delight at being the centre of attention giving way to her kind heart. ‘Though I do believe they could do with our custom, ladies. My father said they had both lost their mother recently and that their stepfather had deserted them; he was only a miner who worked for my father.’ Grace looked around at the horror on her friends’ faces.
‘Then we will pay them a visit. See what our rivals look like and purchase whatever takes our fancy. It is our duty, ladies, to give to those less fortunate than ourselves. Especially if what we purchase there is as fine as the dress you were wearing, my dear Grace.’
‘Next week, ladies? It will soon be the spring ball, and I don’t know about all of you, but I have nothing at all to wear in my wardrobe.’ Grace looked around at her friends and hoped that they would not say anything to their parents about their organised visit.
‘Yes, and then we can have coffee in that sweet little place on the corner; perhaps your William would like to join us then?’ Priscilla looked at Grace expectantly.
‘I’ll ask him, but I wouldn’t count on my brother. May I ask you to keep this between ourselves? My father thinks that I have lost my senses shopping in Woodlesford instead of Leeds and he seems to have a great dislike of the girls that run my little find. But what does he know about fashion? Besides the more he protests the more I am determined to shop there. I know my own mind, ladies, as do you, my dear friends.’ Grace sat back and felt satisfied with herself; the little dress shop was going to be her charity project, something to justify her wealth and privilege, and if she could get her friends to help then so much the better.
‘Eliza Wild, what do you think you were doing this morning at the break of dawn? We both saw you, and I can tell you we will have none of that in the house next to us. No matter how tight the money is at your house. You should have more pride!’ Ada Simms had waited all day for the Wild girls to return home and the more she had thought about it the more she had got worked up about the sight she and her husband had witnessed out of their window. She’d watched for their return from behind her lace curtains and had raced to tackle them before she entered into their home.
‘I’m sorry … what do you mean?’ Eliza looked at her red-faced neighbour and didn’t understand what she was insinuating.
‘You know full well, Eliza Wild! I saw that man you were kissing on the doorstep this morning. He’d obviously stayed the night. I thought you girls had been brought up better than that. No good will come of it, you know.’ Ada was flustered as she felt awkward tackling them both.
‘Mrs Simms, I think you are thinking the worst of my sister and me with no just cause. Mr Vasey is a friend of my uncle’s. He came late last night with a gift of material for us, and, yes, he did stay the night … downstairs in a chair next to the fire. Eliza got up early to thank him and say our goodbyes – that must be what you saw when you were looking out of the window.’ Mary-Anne unlocked the front door as she watched the old woman look sternly at them both.
‘It’s no good, Mary-Anne, she’s made her mind up that I had a man in my bed last night. Just look at her face,’ Eliza snapped. ‘Don’t you dare judge me because I’ve done nothing that I’m ashamed of.’ Eliza pushed her way past Mary-Anne, the basket on her arm creaking as she squeezed past the doorway and Mary-Anne.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Simms, but, believe me, you are mistaken. It is as I have said. Eliza is blameless … as am I.’ Mary-Anne looked at her irate neighbour.
‘Well, perhaps I got it wrong, but my eyes don’t usually deceive me.’ Ada Simms took a step back, regretting that she had said something and that Eliza was now in such a foul
mood with her.
‘Well, Mr Vasey is a very honourable man and it was he who insisted he slept downstairs, away from both of us. I dare say he could imagine how idle gossip could arise …’ She gave Ada a pointed look and was relieved to see her words had struck a nerve. ‘He came to help us, not to take advantage of either of us. Now if you’ll excuse me I have things to do.’ Mary-Anne left Ada on the doorstep and closed her door behind her.
‘The old bitch! What does she think I am?’ Eliza growled as she lit the kindling to get the fire going. ‘She’s just a nosy old cow looking out of her bedroom first thing this morning. ‘
‘It’d be her Bert going to work, he always gets up early.’ Mary-Anne spoke quietly, thinking that if Ada Simms knew the truth about her own recent experiences she’d wash her hands of both of them.
‘Our mother was right: she’s best kept at arm’s-length if she thinks like that. No wonder she never bothered with her.’ Eliza stood up near the fire and looked at her sister who had started to busy herself in the kitchen.
‘Just forget it, Eliza; you know you did nothing wrong. It’s up to her what she believes.’ Mary-Anne sighed.
‘She’s a nosy old cow!’ Eliza said with spite again and, taking her shoes off, she slumped in her chair, still muttering to herself as Mary-Anne set the table for supper. ‘I never have liked her! And how can she judge me just by seeing me give John a peck on his cheek? Though I know he was embarrassed by it, I regret even getting up to say goodbye now.’
‘Well, it’s done now. And she was wrong. Now let’s have something to eat and forget it.’ Mary-Anne bit her tongue. She could easily have lost her temper with her sister, who seemed to forget her night of shame. Eliza had done nothing wrong so she had nothing to worry about, unlike herself.
The following Monday, Mary-Anne awoke early and started off on her own along the canal to Leeds. It felt strange doing the walk alone; for the last few years she’d always gone with Eliza and she missed her company. The towpath along the canal was slippery with a hard hoar frost covering everything, making the hedges and grasses along the canal bank shimmer and sparkle with the early rising sun. She walked carefully over the crackling pools of frozen water and made her way down towards the canal basin and then on as usual to Ma Fletcher and her cart. She was cold to the bone when she reached Hunslet on the outskirts of Leeds and wished she had asked Eliza to come instead of her. But at the same time she knew Eliza was better with a needle and thread and would be busy in the shop attending to the new dress she was making. It was already taking shape and was looking good, with a deep neckline and a full skirt with perfect pleating, wide enough for any fashion conscious lady to fit a horse hair-padded crinoline underneath to make her the height of society’s fashion. Even though Eliza knew it looked good, she kept finding fault with her own handy work, doubting her every stitch, unsure of her own newfound skills of designing a dress from scratch.
Mary-Anne made her way through the village of Hunslet through to the bustling city of Leeds, passing Clarence Dock where the smell of the malting hops and barley from the Tetley Brewery filled the air, making her hungry with their sweet heavy smell. The canal and dockside alongside the huge towering warehouses were busy with barges full of coal, wool, fruit and vegetables, cotton and any other commodity that helped keep the busy city of Leeds functioning. Dock workers were like ants, busily unloading cargo from barges to horses and carts or stocking it into the tall, red brick warehouses. Though they were busy in their work, the dockhands still took time to admire a pretty girl, shouting a rude comment or two in her direction, more in keeping for the prick-pinchers of Calls Walk. Mary-Anne didn’t give them a second glance as she weaved in and out of the busy canal side and made her way along Calls Wharf.
‘Mary … Mary-Anne!’ a voice shouted out above the hum of the noise, over managers and foremen shouting their orders as goods were hauled and winched into place. ‘Wait, Mary-Anne.’
Mary-Anne turned and saw the now-familiar figure of John Vasey pushing his way through the workers. He had a flat cap on and a checked muffler around his neck and she could just see a striped shirt underneath his dark jacket and waistcoat. Mary-Anne walked back to him and he smiled at her.
‘I thought you weren’t going to stop, that you couldn’t hear me above this din.’ John grinned. ‘What are you doing down here at this time of the morning?’
‘It’s good to see you, John. I’m on my way the market at upper Briggate. We have an understanding with a woman with a stall there, her husband is the rag-and-bone man and she keeps back the best clothes for us. Are you at work?’ Mary-Anne smiled at John as some of his work colleagues jeered at him talking to her.
‘I am, with a load of scoundrels who don’t know how to treat a woman and are only jealous.’ He raised his voice, loud enough for them all to hear. ‘I’ll walk with you to the start of lower Briggate; they can manage without me for a while.’ John walked alongside Mary-Anne, smiling at her as she tried to think of something to say.
John finally broke their companionable silence. ‘I enjoyed our time together, I hope I didn’t bore you with my tales of home.’
‘No, not at all. I just thought how hard your life must have been and it put our situation in a different light. Ma always used to say there’s always someone worse off than you. It’s easy to get wrapped up in your own troubles.’ Mary-Anne had thought a lot about the conversation that they’d had the previous evening and had been surprised by her growing affection for the dark-haired man by her side. In fact she had to admit a pang of jealousy towards Eliza, given that she’d been the one who had dared to kiss him goodbye, even if it had been just a quick kiss on his cheek.
‘How long will you be up at Briggate? Will you have time to join me for a warm-up around the brazier in the warehouse before you return home?’ John stopped as they neared the busy, wide street of upper Briggate. ‘Or if you don’t want the attention, would you prefer a quick drink in the Adelphi? One of the men will cover for me.’
‘No, no, not the Adelphi. It’s far too posh. The Tetley Brewery has spent a small fortune on making it their flagship and they won’t want the likes of us sitting in their snug. I’d only feel uncomfortable in there.’ Mary-Anne blushed and looked down at her feet. ‘A warm would be fine, if you are sure that it will not get you into trouble. I’ve had my fair share of catcalls from dock workers in my time, they don’t bother me.’
‘To be sure, Mary-Anne, you would look a lady no matter where we went together. Don’t you realise how blessed you are? You’d turn any man’s head. And more fool the Adelphi if they don’t appreciate our trade. But a drink of tea it is and I’ll make sure my mates hold their noise. They’re used to gawping at all the girls on Calls Walk, and have no manners when it comes to a proper lady.’ John touched her arm gently and smiled as she was obviously embarrassed by his flattery.
‘I won’t be long – half-a-hour at the most.’ Mary-Anne looked at the soft-spoken man, giving him one last smile before turning to walk quickly up through the busy street, smiling to herself at the words said by her newfound friend. He was a good-looking man, not in the first flush of youth but perhaps that was a good thing from what she had seen of him. He seemed genuine and caring and she knew she could do worse, but perhaps her dreams of a life with John Vasey as a companion were running ahead of themselves; after all it was only a cup of tea and a warm up they were sharing, nothing more.
‘Now then, Mary-Anne, no Eliza with you today? Where is she? Is she too busy making money to come and see an old woman with her wares that are nearly given away to you two?’ Ma Fletcher stood with her hands on her hips and grinned, showing her decaying teeth to the world.
‘She’s in the shop, busy sewing, so I’ve come by myself today.’ Mary-Anne quickly glanced over the cart, already starting to handle the rags and shoes that had seen better days as she answered the old woman.
‘You want nowt with this, I’ve your usual here … a few good bits and a few not so good, but
better than what’s on top here. My old man says it will be better pickings this coming week or two; a lot of the so-called ladies of society are re-arranging their wardrobes ahead of the spring party season and throwing their offcasts out.’ Ma Fletcher pulled up her usual bag of garments that she’d put to one side and placed it in front of Mary-Anne. ‘I was sorry to hear of your troubles – your poor ma … And I hear that Bill’s buggered off. How are you both coping? You’ll be missing your mother, no doubt.’ Ma Fletcher watched as Mary-Anne shook out a dress or two that she’d put to one side and noticed how pale she looked.
‘We’re managing. We both miss our mother but we can’t say the same of Bill. He never took the place of our father.’ Mary-Anne sighed and held up the clothes from the bag that she’d been presented with. ‘I’ll take these, how much do you want for them?’
‘Three pence and that’s a bargain! I thought neither of you would be losing tears over Bill he was a wrong ’un and no mistake. God knows why your mother married him.’ It wasn’t often Ma Fletcher undercharged for her wares but just this once she was willing to show a little charity to two girls she knew were having a hard time of it of late. She watched as Mary-Anne clearly thought about questioning her sudden generosity and then thought better of it.
‘That’s good, I hadn’t much more on me. Thank you. I’ll take the lot.’ Mary-Anne pushed the heap of clothing back into the hessian sack, stood back and looked around her. ‘I think my mother thought she was securing a good life for us all when she married Bill, but she got more than she bargained for. We didn’t know how much he liked his ale … and what might happen when he drank too much.’ Mary-Anne looked at Ma Fletcher and sighed.
Ma Fletcher beckoned her closer. ‘My mother said to me that you never know a man until you live with him, and then it’s too late when you’ve a ring on your finger. Better to live over the brush and just put up with the gossip than not to be your own woman. That’s what me and my old man have done for the last thirty years; everybody thinks we are wed, but we never got around to it.’ She paused, looking to see if she’d scandalised the younger woman, but Mary-Anne was amused if anything, prompting her to continue. ‘Besides, it makes no difference, it’s only a bit of gold and a few words that are never taken any notice of, if truth was told. Better that you can up-sticks and move on if he treats you bad and he’ll respect you more for knowing that. Never get tied down, lass, else you’ll regret it all your life.’ Ma Fletcher watched as Mary-Anne felt in her bag for the money she owed her.
