They were married at St Andrew's church in a simple ceremony, since Molly declared she had no family apart from James and Mary. James had wanted to go down to the wharfs to see the ships, and sulked when Thomas said he must wait for another day.
'But I don't want ter come ter wedding,' James complained.
'You'll do as I say.'
'James, behave,' Molly ordered.
He frowned, but sat through the brief ceremony, and became more cheerful when they returned to Thomas's house and he discovered there were pastries and blancmanges, prepared by Grace Pike, Thomas's elderly servant.
Grace stared at Molly when she and Thomas arrived at the house.
'Don't I know you?' she asked.
Molly raised her eyebrows. 'I don't think so. I don't recall ever seeing you before, Mistress Pike.'
'It were some years ago, but I never forget a face.'
Molly shrugged and smiled. The woman must have mistaken her for someone else, as she had never left the ship when the Neptune was at Plymouth.
Thomas was eager to show his bride the house and his workshop, and she duly admired it all. This house was about as big as William Gough's farmhouse, though a town house. It was smaller than the one in Ludlow, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She could manage this one. She had never had servants to deal with, apart from William Gough's other maid, but there were only Grace and a young girl who seemed to do the cleaning and help Grace in the kitchen. She'd soon become accustomed to being a lady of leisure.
*
On the following day Thomas, somewhat sleepy after enjoying Molly's favours, said he would start to teach young James straight away.
'I've other apprentices, but they've been with me some time.'
James protested, but to no avail. He went with Thomas to the workshop while Molly was left to begin a new life as mistress of his house.
She decided to go shopping, and explore the town. This annoyed Grace, who said she normally did the marketing for the household.
Molly shrugged. If, later, she wanted to change this she was sure Thomas would agree. After last night, when he had been almost tearful with gratitude, and limp with exertion, he'd said it was his best decision ever to marry her.
'Well, you may continue to do that and I won't interfere. I need some threads and trimmings if I am to do any sewing. Where can I find a haberdashery?'
'Down by the harbour, in the Barbican.'
The woman was frowning whenever she looked at Molly. Was it that she resented another woman in the house, or was she jealous? Yet she was much older than Thomas, she could never have hoped he would marry her.
Molly tried to forget the woman's hostility, but it bothered her. Had Grace ever seen her before? If so, where?
She enjoyed exploring the town, and when Thomas and James returned to the house for their dinner, asked her son how he had got on.
James pouted. 'I dain't do nowt,' he said. 'It were borin'.'
Thomas smiled, but it was forced.
'You need just to watch for the moment,' he said. 'I will explain what we do, and soon I will have you making cake stamps. You can perhaps make a set for your mother. That would please her.'
'I must talk to you,' Molly said. 'Grace has been used to doing everything, and she might resent me in the kitchen, though I would like to do some cooking. Can we decide what I am to do?'
*
It was in summer, eight months later, that Molly again began to worry.
'Grace will be going away for a month,' Thomas said one evening. 'Can you manage or shall I employ another maid?'
'I can manage,' Molly said. In fact, she had so little to do in the house she was bored. 'But a whole month? Why?'
'She goes to visit her family every few years. As she has so little time off, she has earned a month, and it takes several days to get there.'
'I see. Where are her family?'
'Shrewsbury. Grace came to Plymouth when she married, and when her husband died she chose to stay here. Said the weather were better than in Shropshire.'
Molly was thoughtful. She'd imagined it was a coincidence when Grace had said she recognised Molly, but was it possible she had seen her at some time during those dreadful days of her trial? Many of the townsfolk had come to listen to the trial, some even had visited the prison. It would have been considered a high treat for a visitor to the town. How could she discover when Grace had last been to Shrewsbury? She could not ask Grace for fear or arousing her suspicions, and if she questioned Thomas he would think it odd.
There was nothing she could do apart from warning James he must not mention Shropshire, so she firmly put it from her mind and began to plan some changes she wanted to make in the house, which Grace had opposed.
'It's allus been good enough fer master before,' had been her invariable reply whenever Molly had made a suggestion, and rather than upset her Molly had shrugged and forgotten it. Now, if she were cautious and did not attempt to do too much, she could make the changes she wanted.
She had other matters to worry about. James and her husband did not get on. James was sulky and resentful, saying he did not want to be a whitesmith, and the small jobs he was given were boring. Thomas complained about his attitude, saying he needed discipline, and Molly knew he blamed her. She could hardly defend herself by saying she had been in New South Wales and her brothers had brought James up.
'James, try to bear it,' she begged. 'You'll do more interesting things later. And Thomas has no children, so in time you could inherit the business.'
'I don't want it. I'll have to be an apprentice for six years, and I can't bear it. I want ter go to sea. I could be a midshipman now.'
She sighed, but in the end he promised not to run away to sea, and with that she had to be content. She never heard from Mary, who could not write, but she sent letters to her regularly, hoping her employers would read them to her, and even pen a short note to say Mary was all right. Hannah could not read or write either, so she did not expect to hear from her. She had her own comfortable life here with Thomas, but she was restless, dissatisfied. It had little meaning for her.
There were the wives of other merchants, and at first they had welcomed Molly, but she had so little in common with them she soon began to avoid them. Only when Thomas decided to give a dinner party, or when he was invited to one, did she mingle with the townsfolk. When she suggested she might start a business sewing, Thomas had objected, saying it was not fit for his wife to be doing menial work for others. Life in New South Wales had been hard, but growing crops and looking after little Frank had been more rewarding than her present life. However, she would, somehow, find something satisfying to do.
*
When Grace returned she was looking smug, and grinned at Molly in an unpleasant manner. First, she complained about the changes Molly had made in the house, and demanded things be reinstated to what they had been previously.
'Is she the mistress here?' Molly demanded. 'Am I to obey her commands?'
Thomas looked harassed. 'She's been with me fer years,' he said. 'It's not important. Let her have her way.'
Molly fumed. It had not been as easy as she had expected to make the changes she wanted. Thomas had a stubborn streak and he disliked change. They were having many arguments of late, at first about James and his dislike of what he was being forced to do, now about Grace and her stubborn ways. She was also blamed for not being more friendly with the other wives. It all came to a head one dinnertime when she told Grace the collops were overdone.
'I suppose you know better, Molly Morgan!' Grace said, standing with arms akimbo.
'Who did you say?' Thomas asked. 'What do you mean?'
Molly was staring at Grace, her cheeks pale, unable to speak. Her worst fears seemed about to become true.
'She's Molly Morgan. Or Mary, if she prefers. I saw her before, at Assizes in Shrewsbury. I knew I'd seen her somewhere, and me sister reminded me. Charged wi' theft she were, so I'd lock away your money, Mr Mare.'
&
nbsp; 'Me name's Jones,' James put in, looking anxiously towards his mother.
'It were Morgan afore,' Grace snapped.
'No, it's Jones!' He was almost crying. 'Me pa were Jones.'
Molly found her voice. 'How dare you tell such lies! My name was Jones, as Mr Mare knows full well. Your sister has clearly been misled. How many years is it since she says she saw a woman like me? When were you last in Shrewsbury?'
Grace shrugged. 'Four years ago, but it were eight years when I went to Assizes and saw you. August '89 it were. Ye was sent ter that place where they was sendin' convicts.'
She spat the word, and grinned.
'She's mistaken and lying out of malice,' Molly said, turning to Thomas. 'If what she said were true, how could I have been in London? Convicts don't come back.'
'Mary Bryant did,' Thomas said. 'I remember the trial.'
'How many others have you heard of?' Molly demanded.
Grace was still there, grinning in triumph. 'An' she 'ad a son, 'e' d be twelve now, like this 'un.'
'It's not true!' Molly insisted.
She wasn't sure he believed her, but he merely told Grace to fetch some bread and cheese, since the mutton collops were uneatable.
She flushed, but said no more, and flounced out of the room. Thomas sighed.
'Do try to get on with her,' was all he said.
He did not ask her whether it was true, and she began to believe he had discounted Grace's accusation, for he never referred to it. Grace seemed subdued, but she did all she could to forget Molly's orders, if she did not openly disobey them. They managed to exist, but Molly became increasingly miserable and angry. It had been better when she was earning her living in London.
*
'It's borin'!' James said.
Molly sighed. It was a constant complaint, and she was tired of trying to keep the peace between her son and her husband.
'You've only been there a year. It will get better, more interesting, when you start doing different things,' she attempted.
James shook his head.
'All I do is mek cake stamps an' pill boxes. It won't get any better when I start mekin' pails an' basins. Mr Mare says I'll never be good enough ter mek cups, or forks an' spoons. I don't want ter mek 'em, anyway. An' 'e's allus shoutin' at me. I won't stay 'ere!'
'Please, luv, don't run off in a ship! You don't know what it's like. Promise me, now.'
Molly was terrified he would try to find a place on a ship, or even stow away, but in the end he promised.
'Not till I'm older an' can be summat better,' he finally agreed, and with that she tried to be satisfied.
It was two years later when James ran away. He was fifteen now, and big for his age. Molly haunted the docks, but could find no trace of him. The Captains on the ships in the harbour swore they had not seen a boy of his description. Thomas, to please her, wrote to Mr Mears at the Whitechapel Foundry to ask if James had been in London, but no one admitted to having seen him.
Finally, when Molly was in despair, certain he had stowed away without the Captains knowing, her brother Sam sent a letter.
'James is here with us,' he wrote. 'Don't fret, luv, he'll help us. Dad's doin' well. We all sends our love, Sam.'
Unfortunately Thomas had been with her when the letter was delivered, and he calmly twitched it from her hands.
'Who is this Sam?' he asked.
Luckily Sam had not bothered to write his own address, or sign off as her brother. He'd had some schooling, but never enjoyed it as Molly had, and even so brief a letter was a task he did not enjoy.
'He – he's a neighbour, in Herefordshire,' Molly said, thinking quickly. 'And his Dad was always kind to me. Oh, how good of him to write! James will be content there. He never really wanted to leave.'
Thomas frowned. 'They send their love?'
'We were good neighbours. Sam's Ma was like a mother to me, after mine died.'
'Ye've never told me about yer family,' Thomas said.
'Well, they all died, that's why I went to London. I wanted a better job than I could get in – in Hereford.'
How exhausting it was to have to remember her fictitious past life. Perhaps it was as well James had left, before he was incautious and said something that would contradict her own story.
'Well, 'e'd never have made a whitesmith,' Thomas said. 'He were too impatient. Spoiled as much as made decent. It's as well 'e's gone. Diggin' fields is all 'e's good fer.'
*
Two months later Thomas said he needed to go to Whitechapel, to see Mr Mears. He'd be away for three weeks, he thought.
'Then there'll be a rest from the constant arguments,' Molly muttered under her breath.
Thomas glared at her. 'What did you say?'
'Nothing important. Is there anything you need me to do while you're away?'
He shook his head. His marriage had not turned out to be what he'd hoped. Even the sex was not good now, Molly was too prone either to refuse him, or lie passive beneath him instead of being the active, exciting partner he'd had in their first few months together.
'No. Shenlake can supervise the workshop, an' Grace does everything in the house. I expect you'll just go on spendin' me money as usual.'
Molly turned away and he gave a satisfied nod of the head. That had put her in her place, and while he was in London he meant to find out the truth.
He had some genuine business with Thomas Mears, and as he sat in the stage planning the things he was determined to do, he decided to get that out of the way first, then he would be free to follow up any information he could discover.
Three days after arriving in Whitechapel this business was finished, and first thing the next morning he left the inn where he was staying and set off for Hannah Grimshaw's lodging house.
'Mr Mare! It's good to see you. Is Molly with ye?'
'No, she couldn't come. But she sent me with a present for her daughter, and I've lost the address where she's working. I hoped you'd know it.'
Hannah nodded. 'It's in Islington, near the Angel on the New Road.'
'The Angel?'
'Aye, it's a big postin' 'ouse, the first on the Great North Road.'
'I've never been to that area. What's the best way to find it?'
'Take a hackney. It's a long pull up from 'ere.'
'And when I get there? Where is young Mary working?'
'Wi' some ladies I used ter work for. In Duncan Terrace,' she added just as Thomas was beginning to feel irritated. 'I've not seen the lass fer months, so give 'er me best wishes.'
Thomas promised to do so, and not relishing a long walk hailed a hackney carriage. Soon he was stepping down outside the house where he'd been told Mary worked. It was a large, terraced house about, he judged, thirty years old, flat-fronted like many he'd seen in Mayfair. He trod slowly up the steps. He was about to discover the truth, and he was far from certain he wanted to know. If he did find proof Molly had lied to him about her name and where she came from, what would he do about it?
A neatly dressed maid opened the door, but when he said he wanted to speak to Mary Jones she sniffed, pointed to the area steps, and said he ought to go down to the servants' entrance.
Unaccustomed to this treatment he was about to demand to see her mistress, when he decided it might cause trouble if Mary's mistress knew what his business with her was.
It was Mary herself who opened the basement door. Thomas introduced himself.
'Oh, how's Ma? She's not ill, is she?'
'No, of course not, but I came on business, so she stayed at home to look after things there. She wondered whether you'd heard anything from home? In Shropshire, I mean.'
Mary went fiery red. 'No, why should I?' she asked.
'You did live in Shropshire, I understand?'
She shook her head but said nothing.
'And your name was Morgan, not Jones?'
'What do you want wi' me?'
'The truth, that's all.'
'Me name's Jones, an' I lived ne
ar Hereford.'
'Where exactly? What was the village called?'
'Why do yer want ter know? I'm not talkin' any more.'
She pushed back into the house and slammed the door.
Thomas nodded, satisfied. Molly had been lying to him. Now, what was he to do? Should he travel to Shrewsbury in the hope of finding out more, or return to Plymouth?
*
In Plymouth Molly fretted. Thomas planned to be away for up to three weeks, but surely his business would not take so long? What was he up to? There was nothing she could do. Grace became even more impertinent than before. John Shenlake took umbrage when she tried to interest herself in the business, assuming she meant to interfere. As if she could, she thought angrily. She knew nothing of the business, yet from what Thomas had said during the past few months, particularly how he had criticised her spending, which had never been an issue with him, she suspected he was having lower profits than before.
She could not decide why. His goods were, from all she heard in the town from his customers and friends, as good as usual. Perhaps he did not charge enough? There were more whitesmiths in the area, it was true, and she tried to discover what they charged. Though she attempted to occupy her thoughts with Thomas's problems, she could not stop worrying about what he was doing in London.
The girl who helped Grace left suddenly, saying her Ma needed her at home while the new baby was born. Grace, without consulting Molly, immediately engaged a girl one of her friends said was looking for a position. To Molly's eyes, Sal seemed half-witted, but she did not wish to antagonise Grace any more. It was the older woman who had to work with the chit, and her own fault if it proved difficult.
Molly was preparing for bed a few days after Sal had first appeared when she heard screams coming from the kitchen, and could smell smoke seeping up through the floorboards.
Convict Queen Page 17
