by Gracie Hart
Mary-Anne blushed. ‘I’d like to take things slowly. Unlike my sister and her Tom.’
‘Then that’s exactly what we’ll do. You are my sort of a girl, Mary-Anne, and I’ll not be rushing doing anything you don’t want me to do.’
‘Thank you, thank you, and I’m sorry if I lead you to believe anything other.’ Mary-Anne bowed her head.
‘Now, why would I think that of such a respectable girl like yourself? Was it not that which made me look at you in the first place? You gave the time of day to me and my tales and demanded nothing back. There’s not many lasses as bonny and as straight as you and that’s why I’m here.’ John stepped back and looked at the blushing face of the girl he’d fallen for. ‘Now give me the tea towel and let’s get these dishes done, and then we might just have time for another quick kiss before the lovebirds return. Let them two make up for us. Lord knows they couldn’t take their eyes of one another; we just weren’t wanted.’
‘Yes, I do believe that they love one another. I’m happy for our Eliza. She deserves some happiness in her life.’ Mary-Anne smiled, thankful that John wasn’t going to be too demanding.
‘You do too, and I will make it my business to bring some happiness into your life. Along with keeping Eliza supplied with material for as long as I can. Life is what you make it, Mary-Anne, so let’s enjoy it while we can.’
Mary-Anne looked at the reflection of John in the window and, for the first time in an age, felt cared for. If only she wasn’t carrying another man’s child, things could be so different. If only she could keep him interested in her and hide the baby from his eyes.
Twenty Four
Edmund Ellershaw paced up and down the parlour of his home, scowling at his son William and wife Catherine as his father-in-law’s plans were laid bare for his wastrel son.
‘It’s a good deal, Edmund. William gets the Hall to live in and a business of his own after taking on their failing woollen mill under father’s guidance, as well as Priscilla’s hand in marriage. And they in turn get their family debts settled without any disgrace to her family. The Eaveshams have got good connections, William would be moving up in society.’ Catherine Ellershaw sighed and glanced across to William who was in the middle of the argument over his grandfather’s arrangement to set him up in polite society.
‘But, she’s no brass, the mill is in disrepair and the Hall is in hock. I’ve never heard of anybody marrying and worsening their bank balance. He doesn’t even know the lass, not properly.’ Edmund looked at his son and cursed under his breath.
‘Of course he does, he’s known her all his life. Grace and she have been friends for years. She’s quite pretty and is totally presentable, and with Levensthorpe Hall to live in, and a mill of his own, despite its present state, Father will make it right. William will want for nothing. Not everyone wants to make their living down under the ground digging that black dirt. Besides, you should be welcoming the union and thanking my father for setting our William up in business.’ Catherine Ellershaw sipped her sherry and looked at her son for support.
‘I quite like her, Father, and I’d rather run a woollen mill than a coal mine. I’ll never get an opportunity like this again. Think of it, Levensthorpe Hall is a grand place, much larger than here, and Mother’s right, the Eaveshams do have good connections.’ William knew there was no way out of marriage if he wanted to escape his father’s household and having to marry the empty-headed Priscilla was of little consequence if he was to gain his own business and the Hall. He might not love her, but she needn’t know that.
‘Like her, lad? You’ll need to do more than like her if you are going to live with her. I thought I was a bastard, but I think your father, Catherine, would sell his soul to the devil to get what he wants from folk. William should be first in line for the pit; he’s our first-born. I always saw him stepping into my shoes, but he never has taken to it. Too mucky for his namby-pamby life style, which is your doing, woman. You and your bloody father. He’ll have to work if he’s to make High Watermill work; it’s on its last legs. Or is that what your father wants? For it to fail so that it closes and then he is saving money with the Eaveshams not in competition with him.’
‘You never think that my father tries to do the best for our family. You always see the bad side of him. He’s doing this for William, despite what you think of his plans. You won’t move from this squat little house … well, our son can have something grander and without any help from you.’ Catherine finished her sherry and stared at her husband who she knew hated her father with a vengeance.
‘I am here, you know.’ William interjected. ‘You are both talking about me like I have no say in my life, as usual. I am going to do as Grandfather wants: I will marry Priscilla and I will run High Watermill. If only to prove you wrong, Father; you never have any faith in me. You can give baby George my share of Rose Pit when the time comes and he’s welcome to it.’ William stood up and turned his back on his squabbling parents, fleeing to the quietness of the garden.
Priscilla would make as good a wife as any and anything would be better than remaining at home – at least he would be his own master. It didn’t matter that he didn’t love Priscilla, he could always find satisfaction somewhere else, even if it wasn’t with Mary-Anne Wild.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he heard his mother say as he made his escape and went to sit on the bench underneath the rambling rose that was just coming into bloom. ‘You never do support our William, the marriage will be perfect for him.’ He heard his mother shout at his father as the parlour door was slammed shut by his cursing father escaping from her sharp tongue. And then he heard the sobs of his mother, regretting the day she had married such a vulgar, common man and only wanting the best for her son.
‘I take it it’s you they’re arguing over?’ Grace appeared from behind the rose tree and sat down next to her brother. ‘It’s always you. I sometimes think I don’t live in this house and George is too young to be part of their schemes yet.’
‘Yes, it’s me. I’m surprised Priscilla has not spoken to you and that you don’t already know, the way you ladies titter and gossip. I am to wed her; her father and Grandfather have come to an arrangement. I am to have her hand in marriage, be master of the Levensthorpe and manage High Watermill so as to clear her father’s debts.’ William looked at his sister and then put his head down.
‘But you don’t love her, William! What about the woman you did love in Cambridge? You’ve pined for her for weeks. No doubt Priscilla will be happy – she has always admired you. Ever since she was young she has said that she loves you. But a marriage cannot be one-sided. Not if it is to work.’ Grace took William’s hand and comforted him.
‘Like our parents’ marriage? Mother married beneath her, at least I won’t be doing that. Priscilla is over the moon with the news. I met her last night and had dinner with her parents. I know we don’t really know one another but we have both flirted together for these last few years. It’s just that I never saw her as my wife.’ William looked at his sister. ‘She was always just one of your empty-headed friends – there to be talked at and flirted with. But, as Grandfather says, it will set me up in society and I will be more than a pit owner’s son. So I will make the best of it.’ William bowed his head.
‘Oh, William, I wish both you and Prissy all my love and best wishes. You will grow to love her, of that I’m sure. She is sweet and tender and has loved you from a distance for years now.’ Grace held back a tear.
‘And I will grow to love her, or be as bitter and twisted like my father and that I cannot stand.’ William sighed. He’d agreed to the deal and now he must stand by it, for the step-up in society it would give him and the freedom to run his own affairs rather than for love.
‘Oh, my dear Grace. You’ve heard the news! What has William told you? Is he excited?’ Priscilla Eavesham kissed and hugged her closest friend as she entered into the parlour of Levensthorpe Hall.
‘Yes, indeed he is. We all are.
How wonderful that you are going to be my sister-in-law. You have finally won the affections of my brother after being besotted with him for all these years.’ Grace sat down next to Priscilla and held her hand tightly.
‘I couldn’t believe it when Father told me that he had come to ask for my hand in marriage, especially when you had said that he was broken-hearted over some girl at college. I had nearly given up all hope of him even looking at me. And then I started thinking that perhaps it was me that he had been broken-hearted over, that he had missed me so much, that he had had to return and ask me to marry him. It all made sense then, especially when he paid for my dress along with yours; he must have been thinking about me then.’ Priscilla giggled. Her cheeks were flushed and her blonde ringlets quivered with her excitement and nervousness of the coming marriage. ‘Father says that there is no time to waste, that we must go and meet the vicar and get the banns read as soon as possible. The wedding day we have in mind is September the fourth, just into autumn when the days can still be warm and pleasant.’
‘That sounds perfect, Prissy, but you have so much to sort and do. Does it give you enough time? What are you going to wear, and am I being presumptuous to think I’m to be a bridesmaid?’ Grace had to look excited for the sake of her friend; she had decided to not let her know the truth behind her marriage to William as it would surely break her heart.
‘Yes, of course it does. Cook and Mamma are already discussing the wedding banquet, although Father says we have to keep it low-key and not to go mad with the guest list. He says anything too decadent looks vulgar. And I thought of asking those sisters to make my wedding apparel, and, of course, dear Grace, it goes without saying that you will be my bridesmaid. I’m sure it will be what William would expect.’ Prissy smiled at her best friend. The wedding could not come quick enough in her eyes and she was just thrilled with whatever arrangements were to be made.
‘It is funny that you mention the Wild sisters for your bridal wear. Eliza Wild called on the house a while ago and left me these samples of material and this fashion booklet. It gives all the latest looks from France in it. They call it “Haute Couture”, which I think means high fashion, and it does have some stunning ideas in it. The material would also be most sublime for a wedding dress, especially this cream-coloured one.’ Grace passed Priscilla over the contents of her posy bag and waited for a response.
‘This material is beautiful. It feels like silk and it shines and catches the light so. I remember seeing Princess Victoria’s wedding in the newspaper in January this year and the dress was described as having pagoda sleeves and layers of silk with silk roses adorning the bodice and skirts. Do you think Eliza would be able to sew me something along similar lines? And, of course, you something similar. I will only have the one bridesmaid so Papa cannot complain about the price too much. Besides, I would probably pay considerably more if I was take fittings into Leeds itself, and Eliza Wild makes us so welcome in that ramshackle shop of hers.’ Prissy beamed at Grace, imagining the dresses that they were both going to be wearing.
‘You’ve just to ask her; I’m sure she will do everything you wish. And she needs our support. If I could I would fund her, and get her a new premises to work in, but my father would only scoff at my intentions. I keep thinking that she has so much potential but because of her being a working-class woman, nothing will become of it as she needs all her money just to keep fed.’ Grace sighed.
‘I could ask my papa for you,’ Priscilla suggested. ‘I’m sure he would listen and lend you some money; he knows that I love the dress that she made for me. He even commented on how beautiful it was and that it must have cost William a pretty penny.’
‘No, don’t do that. I will do it on my own one day hopefully. But shall we go and see if Eliza Wild can make the dress you have your heart set on?’ Grace looked at her good friend, knowing that she really did not know the financial predicament her family was in and deciding that she was not about to tell her.
Twenty Five
‘Well, what do you think of that?’ Eliza turned and looked at Mary-Anne. ‘William Ellershaw to marry that empty-headed one. I didn’t see that coming.’
‘No, neither did I. The poor lass, marrying him. She’s no idea what his family is like, not including Grace.’ Mary-Anne sat back and pretended she knew nothing of the upcoming wedding.
‘He nearly turned your head. I remember that when you came back from having tea with him and his entourage you were full of it.’ Eliza grinned.
‘Well, I’ve thought better of it now and she’s welcome to him,’ Mary-Anne said more sharply than she intended. ‘Are you sure you can do all that she’s asked for? You are going to be sewing morning, noon and night. Silk roses and pagoda sleeves … I’ve never heard of them. Where has she seen them?’ Mary-Anne watched Eliza pick up the boards of gauze that had been left untouched until that morning. She wriggled in her chair. She had felt uncomfortable; the baby had been making its presence known all morning beneath her skirts.
‘It’s a mix up of what she heard Princess Victoria was wearing and what is in the leaflet I left with Grace Ellershaw. I’ll be fine. I might have to put some extra hours in but we are not going to turn that sort of money down. Besides, you can make the roses, they’ll be easy enough to do. Once you’ve fashioned one, the rest will follow. I wonder if your John could get me some Broderie Anglaise; she will need that to attach as a pull-on sleeve underneath the loose pagoda effect. I looked at it and thought, that’s going to be a fiddle, but I think I can get it right. When are you next seeing him?’ Eliza looked at her quick sketch, which she had pencilled in when her two excited customers had explained what they had wanted, and turned as Mary-Anne gasped.
‘It kicked, did you see? It kicked my stomach?’ Mary-Anne beamed.
‘No, I didn’t. Am I supposed to get excited? I swear, you are not going to give that baby away after all. You are too soft. I sometimes think you forget whose baby it is. Which reminds me … looking at you we had better take that skirt out a little, else everyone will notice your secret.’ Eliza looked at her sister, who was rubbing her stomach and smiling down at her unborn child.
‘I don’t forget how it came about, Eliza, but I can’t help but feel something now it is growing and a part of me. It’s a baby and the poor soul’s not done any wrong. It doesn’t know its father is a selfish bastard. As for John, he will be calling on Sunday. We will go for a stroll this time and leave you and Tom in the house, providing the weather is good. But he doesn’t order material on demand, you know. Whatever is available that he can steal away is what he brings you, never mind your fancy Broderie Anglaise. Perhaps you’ll have to make do with plain cotton.’ Not for the first time did Mary-Anne feel defensive towards the life she was carrying; things were changing within her body and it was preparing itself for motherhood … something she couldn’t quite comprehend.
‘Your John’s not a fool, you know. He may be keeping his distance but I’ve watched him put his hands on you. He’s soon going to suspect that something’s not quite right and put two and two together.’ Eliza looked at her sister worriedly; she knew she was beginning to love the baby she was carrying as well as the charming Irishman who visited most Sundays.
‘I know, but what can I do? He commented that I’d put weight on last week and that it must be because I was content. I don’t want to lose him, Eliza. I hate lying to him …’
‘How about we say you’ve got to go and see a sick aunt or something and you just hide from Tom when he visits? I could pick up any material John puts his hands on if I walk into Leeds,’ Eliza suggested.
‘But I’ll not see him then and he might go to America without saying goodbye. It’s hard enough that he will be leaving before Christmas without spending the rest of summer and early autumn without him. I don’t know why I love him like I do; it’s a doomed relationship and no matter what happens my heart is going to be broken. Sometimes I think everything will work out fine and then I think, who am I trying to f
ool? Especially when, as you say, my waistband keeps growing.’ Mary-Anne sighed and looked out of the window onto the sunlit streets of Woodlesford. She knew in another few months nature would play its hand and she would become a mother, whether she liked it or not.
‘I’ll do the best I can. I’ll add a line of extra material into that skirt and just keep him at bay for a little longer and try to fashion something to pull your stomach in. Hopefully something will happen and he might never suspect.’ Eliza looked away from Mary-Anne; she couldn’t help but wish for all their sakes that the baby would come early – healthy but early.
‘Perhaps I should tell him I’m with child and explain why. It would show me what sort of man he truly is,’ Mary-Anne whispered to her sister.
‘I don’t know, Mary-Anne … it is your decision. I do know you don’t want to lose him.’ Eliza ran her hand around her sister’s shoulder. She and Tom had their all lives ahead of them, in love with one another and with no obvious worries, other than what life dealt them, while Mary-Anne worried everyday about where her life and that of her child was going. It just wasn’t fair.
Twenty Six
‘What’s wrong, John?’ Mary-Anne asked as they arrived back onto Pit Lane after a Sunday stroll through Woodlesford and neighbouring Oulton. ‘You’ve hardly said a word on our walk. Is something troubling you?’ Mary-Anne felt uneasy. Had he guessed the state of her, and was he about to question her regarding it?
‘I’ve been biding my time and have not wanted to tell you this, Mary-Anne, but I’ve no option. I’m leaving Leeds and am going to be working in Liverpool for a short time before I join my brother.’ He took Mary-Anne’s hands and looked into her eyes. ‘I don’t want to go. It’s only because of the money; I can earn twice as much on the docks at Liverpool than on that wharf side on the canal. Otherwise I’ll still be working there this time next year trying to scrape together enough money to see me straight. And I’ll keep in touch and come back to see you from time to time.’ John saw the tears in her eyes and knew she was upset.
