Sons and Daughters

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I’ve told the master you’re here, miss, and he says to take you up.’

  Suddenly, the churning stomach and the sweaty palms were back, but Charlotte rose, thanked the cook for her hospitality, and followed Lily up the back stairs and into the hallway. The housemaid led the way to a door on the right-hand side and knocked. She opened the door and announced, ‘Miss Charlotte Crawford, sir.’

  Charlotte stepped into the room and the door closed behind her.

  Miles Thornton was seated behind a large mahogany desk, with his back to the long windows overlooking the front lawns. The room was more like a small library than a study, for most of the wall space was lined from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. There was a large marble fireplace on one wall. Above it hung a huge oil painting of a beautiful woman. Charlotte couldn’t help staring at the lovely face framed by blond curling hair. The woman’s mouth curved in a sweet smile and her blue eyes seemed to follow everyone in the room. This was Miles Thornton’s late wife and Georgie’s likeness to her was unmistakable.

  Charlotte tore her gaze away and let her glance rest on the big dog stretched full length on the rug. It raised its head and growled softly, but at a word from its master it was silent, though it remained watchful and wary.

  Miles rose, came around the desk and held out his hand. His face creased in a smile, but Charlotte noticed that the sadness deep in his brown eyes didn’t quite disappear. Now she knew why. This man was still mourning the loss of his beloved wife six years earlier.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Crawford. Please come and sit down – if you can find your way around Duke.’ Miles gestured towards one of the two wing chairs that were placed one on either side of the hearth.

  Charlotte smiled nervously and went towards one of the chairs. It was not the dog of whom she was afraid, but the man. She bent and held out her hand towards the animal.

  ‘I wouldn’t. He’s not very friendly towards strangers. He’s—’ Miles stopped mid-sentence and stared in astonishment. His temperamental guard dog was actually licking the hand of this woman.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he muttered. ‘I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.’

  Mesmerized, he sat down in the other chair, still staring at his dog. Now, Charlotte was scratching Duke’s head and the animal was gazing up at her with a bemused expression.

  Miles chuckled suddenly; a deep, infectious sound. ‘Are you a witch?’

  Charlotte relaxed a little. ‘No. I just seem to have an affinity with animals.’ She forbore to add that she felt more at ease with animals and children than she did with adults. Especially strangers and, even more particularly, men. The thought reminded her of the reason for her visit and nerves gripped her once more.

  ‘I’ve come to apologize,’ she began, never one to put off doing whatever had to be done. ‘Georgie got into a fight yesterday at Sunday school and I feel responsible.’

  ‘You? How come?’

  She repeated what she had said to Mrs Beddows.

  ‘Ah, so that’s why three urchins presented themselves at my front door this morning asking to see Georgie?’

  Charlotte gasped in surprise. ‘They – they did?’

  ‘They did indeed. In fact, they’re still here somewhere – outside in the grounds, I think – playing with him.’

  ‘Oh!’ Charlotte could not hide her surprise and a sliver of anxiety. Was little Georgie safe? What if . . . ?

  As if reading her thoughts, Miles said quietly, ‘Have no fear for my son, Miss Crawford. Though I didn’t interfere, I heard them apologizing to Georgie and he invited them to play with him in the orchard. Cowboys and Indians, I think he suggested. So I’m sure all is well.’

  ‘I – do hope so,’ Charlotte said fervently.

  ‘And you have no need to feel guilty any more. They’re just being what they are. Boys.’

  Charlotte smiled wanly. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I suppose so.’

  He watched the pain in her face and knew from his brief conversation with her father that he was approaching delicate ground. Charlotte gave the dog a final pat and stood up. ‘I mustn’t take up any more of your time. You must be very busy. Thank you for seeing me.’

  Miles rose too. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’ His deep tone was warm and genuine. He opened the door for her. ‘And I’ll be seeing you again very soon. Tomorrow evening, in fact.’

  Charlotte stared up at him. ‘T-tomorrow?’

  ‘Hasn’t your father told you? He’s invited us all – even Georgie – to dinner.’

  Six

  ‘I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.’

  Charlotte had still not recovered from the shock by the time she reached home and went straight to the kitchen. Mary was in a blind panic.

  ‘He’s just told me,’ she said. ‘It’s more than twenty years since I cooked for a dinner party. Not since – ’ She paused and glanced at Charlotte. ‘Well – not for a long time. Dear, oh dear. I’ll have to get Joe to take me on the cart into town. We’ve nothing in but the plain fare we normally have. “The best, Mary.” That’s what he said. “The best.” Whatever’s he thinking of? And with such short notice, an’ all. I’ll have to have some help, Miss Charlotte.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll help you.’

  ‘Oh, more’n that. I’ll have to ask Peggy Warren to come. That’ll be all right, won’t it?’

  ‘Of course. If she can leave the old man.’

  ‘She’ll just have to – for once,’ Mary said firmly. She stopped her agitated pacing and sat down at the table. ‘But why? Why now and why them?’

  Charlotte was silent for a moment. Then she said in a flat voice, ‘Because Mr Thornton has three sons, Mary, that’s why.’

  Mary gaped at her and couldn’t think of a word to say.

  By the time Mary and Edward were in their own bedroom that night, however, Mary could think of plenty to say.

  ‘All these years he’s been a recluse and kept that lovely girl away from any kind of society ’cept his farm workers and their families,’ she whispered angrily, to avoid being overheard. There were three large bedrooms on the first floor of the farmhouse. Osbert slept in the biggest,reached by the main staircase, and Charlotte in the one on the opposite side of the landing. The third room, beyond Charlotte’s, was where Mary and Edward slept and it was reached by a narrow back staircase from the corner of the huge kitchen. ‘So why does he suddenly want to start entertaining now?’ Mary was still ranting. ‘Miss Charlotte reckons it’s because of the boys. Mr Thornton’s sons. But I don’t see why he wants to befriend them?’

  ‘Wouldn’t put owt past that old devil,’ Edward muttered. ‘He’s got a devious mind. I wouldn’t like to even try to guess what be goin’ on in his head.’

  ‘So why’ve we stayed here all these years?’

  ‘You know as well as I do, love. We’ve only put up with him for Miss Charlotte’s sake. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d’ve been long gone.’

  Mary smiled. ‘Aye, me an’ all.’ She sighed. ‘But we’ve stayed and now we’re too old to move on. Who’d want us now?’

  The two glanced at each other. What Mary said was true. They were probably too old now to find domestic work elsewhere, but not for one moment did they regret their decision to stay here. For it was Miss Charlotte who would own the farm one day, and she would see them all right.

  Of that, they had no doubt.

  ‘I don’t want you at the dinner party,’ Osbert told Charlotte the following morning. ‘I shall inform our guests that you have a headache and have begged to be excused. You can either stay in your room or help Mary in the kitchen.’ He gave a snort of derision. ‘Yes, you’d better do that. She’s going to need all the help she can get. I hope she’s up to the task. I don’t want to be shamed in front of our new squire and his sons.’

  Charlotte stared at her father. Had his disappointment in her festered for so long that it was now akin to hatred? She’d no choice but to obey
him, but, once over the initial surprise, she’d been looking forward to the dinner party. Now, it seemed, she was to be kept in the background like some mad woman in the attic.

  Her father was ashamed of her. She sighed inwardly as she left the sitting room. If you could call it that for she never sat in it. Her father had made it his own sanctuary, surrounding himself with his books. He spent most of his days in the room now, scarcely venturing out except to church and the occasional visit to the market. Once he had been a regular public figure, had attended shooting parties and had even hosted such events on his own land. But after his wife had died, he’d ceased to socialize.

  Back in the kitchen, Charlotte found Edward opening the door to Joe Warren.

  Seeing her, Joe pulled off his cap. ‘’Morning, miss. Could I have a word?’

  ‘Of course.’ She led the way from the back door to the outbuildings running at right angles to the house and to the former tool shed that had been converted into a farm office.

  ‘Sit down, Joe.’

  ‘No, ’tis all right, miss. I mun’t stay long. I just wondered if you’d come and have a look at one of the ’osses, miss. He seems lame and old Matty said to ask you afore we call the vet.’

  Living alone in the cottage next door to the Warrens, Matty Whitehead had worked for the Crawfords all his life, working his way up to become a waggoner. What he didn’t know about horses wasn’t worth knowing.

  Charlotte nodded as she sat down behind the desk. For the last seven years, this room had been her domain. As she’d grown up, Osbert had passed more and more of the running of the farm to his daughter. The foreman now came to Charlotte for instruction and advice. But very few people knew the truth; Mary and Edward, of course, and Joe and Harry Warren. But no one else. Not even Peggy and the rest of the Warren family. Some of the farmhands might have guessed if they’d stopped to think about it. But few did. They’d been so used to seeing the young miss about the place all her life and took her interest and involvement as natural. What they did not realize was that the farm was hers now – in all but name. And her father did nothing to disillusion them. In his twisted mind, he still ran things and his daughter was less than useless.

  ‘I’ll meet you at the stables in ten minutes,’ Charlotte said.

  ‘There’s nothing in his hoof. I think he’s pulled a muscle or a tendon. Rest him for a few days and I’ll come and massage it twice a day. Can you manage with the other two until he’s better?’ There were four horses on Buckthorn Farm – three shires and a pony that pulled Osbert’s trap.

  ‘Oh-ar, miss.’ Matty nodded.

  ‘There, there old boy.’ Charlotte ran her gentle fingers down the horse’s right front leg. The animal flinched and moved restlessly but seemed to sense that she was trying to help him. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place,’ she murmured. ‘Just a strain.’ She straightened up. ‘But we’ll get the vet if you think it best, Matty.’

  ‘Aw no, miss.’ He grinned toothlessly at her. ‘You’re as good as any vet I’ve seen. You should have been one.’

  Charlotte smiled sadly, reminded once more that if only she’d been a man, she could have done or become anything she liked.

  But the truth was, she wasn’t even thought enough of by her own father to sit at his table when he entertained.

  ‘That’s an absolute disgrace.’

  Edward didn’t think he’d ever heard his wife so angry. ‘I’ve a good mind to go on strike just like them miners are threatening.’

  The newspapers had been full of the coal crisis and rumours were spreading that if the miners went on strike, the whole country would soon come out in support of them. Edward had followed the news avidly, reading snippets out to Mary.

  ‘Wouldn’t do you any good, love,’ he said mildly now. ‘You’d just get the sack. And me along with you.’

  Mary’s eyes glittered. ‘And right this minute, I wouldn’t mind if I did.’

  ‘Aye well, it wouldn’t help Miss Charlotte, now, would it?’

  ‘But have you ever heard the like? Banning his own daughter from a dinner party and suggesting she work like some skivvy in the kitchen!’

  ‘Likely she’ll be happier down here with us than up there.’

  ‘Mebbe so, but it’s the principle of the thing. What on earth will Mr Thornton think?’

  ‘I doubt he’ll ever know. He’ll have no reason to doubt the master’s word and he’s not likely to venture down into the kitchen. Unless, of course, he comes to compliment the cook.’

  Mary gave him a wry glance and continued to beat the batter for Yorkshire puddings. The back door opened and Peggy Warren came in with the breeze.

  ‘By, but it’s blowy today, Mary. Nearly lost my wig on the way here.’ She laughed. ‘That’s if I’d got one.’ She hung her coat and scarf on the peg behind the door and tied a white apron round her waist. Washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she asked, ‘Now, Mary love, what can I do to help?’

  ‘Mek us a cuppa, there’s a dear. Edward’s tongue’s hanging out and I haven’t a moment to stop. Then you can start on the veg over there on the draining board.’

  ‘Where’s Miss Charlotte? Prettying hersen’ for tonight?’

  Husband and wife exchanged a glance that was not lost on Peggy. ‘What? What have I said?’

  Mary explained.

  ‘Not being allowed to join the dinner party?’ Peggy’s voice was high-pitched with indignation. ‘Well, I’ve heard it all now. Wait till I tell our Joe. He’ll never believe it. Not this, he won’t.’

  Peggy and Mary carried on grumbling to each other about the unfairness of Charlotte’s life long after Edward had escaped upstairs to lay the dining table. There was no separate dining room at Buckthorn Farm, but the long sitting room was spacious enough for a seating area around the fireplace and for the dining table and chairs and a sideboard to be placed near the front window overlooking the lawn.

  He found Charlotte, a scarf around her hair and a copious apron covering her dress, dusting and polishing the furniture. Any stranger arriving at that moment could certainly be forgiven for taking her for a housemaid.

  ‘Father’s gone upstairs for a rest, so I thought I’d give the whole room a good going over before he comes down again.’ She stood back and surveyed the whole room. ‘There, what do you think, Edward?’

  ‘Looks grand, Miss Charlotte.’

  ‘What about the china and the glassware?’

  ‘All done, miss. And the cutlery. Everything fair sparkles. I’ll lay the table now, if you’ve finished kicking up a dust.’

  Charlotte laughed. ‘I have. I’ll go and see if I can help Mary.’

  ‘Peggy’s here, so they’re fine if there’s anything else you need to be doing.’ Edward bit his tongue, longing to add, ‘Like getting yourself ready for the dinner party.’ But he didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings any more than they had already been wounded.

  ‘If everything’s under control, then, I’ll just nip down to the stables and check on Tobias,’ she added, referring to the lame horse.

  She left the house by the back door, wearing a long trench coat, wellingtons and her headscarf. She lifted her head to the breeze and tasted the salt air blowing in from the sea. It was surprisingly warm for early April and promised fine weather for Easter weekend. Charlotte would have loved a walk to the sea, but with Father’s unexpected dinner party, there was no time today. Perhaps tomorrow.

  Turning to the left, she crossed the path that ran down the side of the house and the farm buildings, walked past the greenhouse and entered the paddock, where Joe was watching Matty leading the horse in gentle circles.

  ‘Hello, Miss Charlotte.’ Joe touched his cap and Matty nodded to her.

  ‘How is he?’

  They stood side by side watching the horse.

  ‘Improving already we think, miss. What d’you say?’

  Slowly, Charlotte nodded. ‘Yes, he’s definitely not limping as much as he was this morning. But I think
you should rest him for at least a week.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Better’n a vet, you are. It’s them healing hands you’ve got.’

  Charlotte laughed aloud, the sound carrying on the breeze so that the horse pricked up his ears and whinnied softly. Matty brought the animal to a standstill and Charlotte moved forward to pat the horse’s neck and feed him a carrot from her pocket. ‘Good boy,’ she soothed. ‘You’ll soon be better. What about Jacob and Lightning?’ Charlotte was referring to the other two shires.

  ‘They’re fine.’

  ‘Another day or so and I’ll take Tobias for a short walk, Matty. Then later on, maybe as far as the beach before we let him on the land again.’

  When there was little work on the farm for the horses – which wasn’t often throughout the farming year – Charlotte took them to the beach further north near the seaside resort where the sand was safer and firmer for the horses. In the warmer weather, they loved a paddle. It would have done the horse good now, she thought, and today would have been warm enough, but she daren’t risk the horse on the soft sand yet and it was too far away, anyway, and there was no time.

  She bent and ran her hand down the animal’s leg. Tobias whinnied again, but he did not flinch or move away from her touch. ‘There, boy, there.’

  She straightened up. ‘I’d best get back to the house. There’s a lot to do.’ She turned to Joe. ‘Peggy’s come to help. I expect you know?’

  Joe nodded, his mouth tight. He’d called into the farmhouse kitchen only minutes before and heard that Charlotte was to be kept out of sight that evening. His anger threatened to spill over and he literally bit down on his lower lip to stop the words coming out of his mouth. It was a disgrace. An absolute disgrace. A travesty. Charlotte was speaking again and he dragged his angry thoughts back to what she was saying.

  ‘But are you sure your father’s all right, Joe? Is he well enough to be left?’

  ‘Our Tommy’s there, Miss Charlotte. He’s to stay in all day. The little scamp’s been fightin’ again. He’s sporting a shiner of a black eye.’