For more than an hour she wandered the streets, realizing eventually that she was completely lost.
She heard the noise even before she turned the last corner into a square and gave a gasp of alarm when she saw what was happening. Policemen with flailing truncheons were advancing in a line towards a band of women standing with placards and banners and chanting, ‘Votes for Women, Votes for Women.’ Then three mounted policemen appeared and galloped straight at the group of women who scattered in fear. It was at that moment that Kitty saw Miriam and before she could stop herself a cry had escaped her lips. ‘Miss Miriam, no, oh no.’
Miriam was standing directly in the path of one of the oncoming horses, boldly facing the creature. She had no fear of horses, Kitty knew, but this was not the country, not her own home-bred horse who would obey her every command. But she stood with the stillness of a statue and, at the last moment, the animal veered to the left. Its rider brought it to a halt with such a vicious tug on its bit that the animal reared. Close by, women screamed, terrifying the horse even more. The officer lost his stirrup, slipped sideways from the saddle and fell to the ground. Kitty watched in horror then as Miriam moved suddenly to grasp hold of the horse’s bridle, but she was not in time to save the policeman from being trampled by the animal’s restless, frightened hooves. She held on to the bridle and patted the horse’s head, though the crowd of women, bent on continuing their demonstration or saving themselves, did nothing to help the young man on the ground.
Kitty thrust herself through the mass, elbowing, shoving and pushing until she reached Miriam.
‘Hold him still, miss, while I get to the copper.’
The horse stood relatively quietly now, though his eyes were still bulging and he breathed and snorted noisily. Kitty, confident of her young mistress’s way with horses, ducked beneath the animal’s neck and bent over the young man lying motionless on the ground.
‘Give us a bit of room,’ she shouted angrily. ‘Can’t you see he’s hurt?’ But the women, still chanting and screaming, took no notice. Kitty knelt on the pavement and cradled the young man’s head in her lap, bending her body over him to protect him from the crowd which seemed to her to have lost all sense of reason.
Then one of the other mounted officers came towards them and the women scattered in alarm, leaving a clear pathway for the rider. He flung himself from his horse.
‘You’re under arrest, the pair of you. I saw it all. You grabbed at his horse and made it rear.’
‘I did no such thing. I was trying to calm it,’ Miriam retorted hotly, while Kitty felt fear twist her stomach. Arrested? Her? Why, she had done nothing.
Other officers were arriving now and Kitty looked up to see one or two women being led away, obviously under arrest, yet the majority seemed to have disappeared, fleeing down the side streets, dispersing swiftly to stay free to fight another day.
Someone brought a stretcher and the young policeman was lifted on to it. Kitty then found herself grasped firmly by the arms and hauled to her feet. But instead of being thanked, both she and Miriam felt the cold ring of steel around their wrists as handcuffs were clamped on them and they were marched towards the black, square-shaped contraption drawn by two impatient horses parked at the edge of the square.
Thirty-Six
They appeared in court the following morning, standing side by side in the dock like common criminals. Kitty, her face flaming red, saw Edward and Guy sitting together in the gallery. Edward’s face was contorted with anxiety, Guy’s grim with anger.
Kitty glanced towards Miriam but she was staring steadfastly straight ahead, refusing to look towards her fiancé or her brother.
The constable who had arrested them gave his evidence and Kitty’s heart sank. It looked very bleak for them and every limb in her body trembled as she thought of having to spend even one more night in that cold cell with its dark stone walls and dank smell.
What if they were sent to prison? What would happen to little Johnnie and to Jack? Fear rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. What if . . .?
Another constable was being called forward by the defence lawyer Guy had hurriedly summoned from the firm of solicitors in the city who acted for Sir Ralph. The policeman mounted the steps into the witness box and was sworn in. A request was made to the judge.
‘My Lord, I know this is somewhat unusual but, as you may know, the officer who would be able to give the clearest evidence of the particular incident involving these two women is lying injured in hospital. With your indulgence, my Lord . . .’ the barrister gave a little bow towards the bench, ‘the officer now called has taken a sworn statement from his injured colleague and, with your permission, my Lord, will now read it to the court.’
The judge seemed to deliberate, then he leaned forward and there was a few moments’ whispered conversation between him and the Clerk of the Court before he straightened up and nodded. ‘Very well, then.’
Kitty’s knees felt weak. She clung on to the edge of the dock, afraid that at any moment she would collapse with fear. Beside her, Miriam stood tall and erect.
The officer in the witness box opened his notebook and cleared his throat. He seemed like an actor on stage making the most of his big moment. After giving his colleague’s name and number he began to relate what had happened.
‘ “As I rode through the crowd, I could sense that my mount was becoming very unsettled by the screams and shouting of the women around us. I then noticed a woman who was standing very still and although she was wearing a banner across her chest and was obviously one of the gathering, she was not at that moment taking an active part in the riot. She was obviously watching my horse, and, although at first I thought she intended to make more trouble of some kind, I now realize that in fact the opposite was the case. As my mount reared in fright, this woman caught hold of the bridle, I believe in an attempt to steady the animal. I was unfortunately unseated and fell to the ground, the horse’s hooves catching me a number of times. As I fell, I hit my head on the ground and sustained a mild concussion. I remember being vaguely aware, however, that the woman had brought the horse under control and that another woman was kneeling beside me and appeared to be trying to protect me from further harm either from the horse or from the surging crowd. Whether or not these two women had been involved in the riot earlier I cannot say, but I do know that at this point they were certainly taking no further part in the commotion and were, in fact, assisting me. I respectfully request that this evidence should be presented to the court in mitigation should charges be brought against the two women concerned.” ’
A whisper like a light breeze ran around the room as the constable snapped his notebook shut and stood to attention, awaiting either further questioning or dismissal. He received the latter and stepped down.
The judge consulted further with the clerk and then, frowning, looked solemnly towards the dock.
‘It seems that, although you were involved in the fracas, you did not intend injury to the constable and, indeed, came to his aid. With this in mind I bind you both over to keep the peace for a period of six months.’ He cleared his throat and Kitty saw him glance meaningly towards the gallery. ‘I suggest you should return home and leave such distasteful matters to those women who have nothing better to do.’
Kitty felt weak with relief but then, with a shaft of horror, she felt Miriam tense and saw a look of anger cross her face. Miriam opened her mouth and Kitty knew at once she was about to make some sharp retort to the judge.
Immediately, Kitty raised her voice and said clearly, ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ At the same moment she gripped Miriam’s arm fiercely and muttered beneath her breath, ‘Don’t you dare say a word, miss. Get yarsen into trouble if you must, but not me.’ And with a strength born of anger, she pushed Miriam from the dock and down the stairs away from the glowering face of the judge who could, she knew, at any moment change his mind and commit them both to that awful prison.
‘Kitty, I don’t know how to thank y
ou.’ Guy Harding was smiling down at her. ‘I can see now that Edward was right. You are the only one who can handle her.’ He shook his head and sighed. It was obvious he loved Miriam devotedly, yet he was overwhelmed by her rebelliousness.
‘Take her home, Mr Guy, out of harm’s way,’ Kitty said. ‘Even if she agitates a bit in the country, she won’t get herself into such bother there as she does here in the city.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it, Kitty.’
Kitty sniffed. ‘It’d be better if she were to have another—’ She bit her tongue and felt the colour rise in her cheeks. For one dreadful, unguarded moment, she had been about to say, ‘Have another child’. Swiftly, hoping he had not noticed her hesitation, she hurried on. ‘Another interest. Something a bit less, well, dangerous.’
‘What she really needs,’ Guy murmured, almost as if he had been reading her mind, ‘is to be a wife and mother.’
Kitty forced a smile but said nothing. So close were his musings to her own thoughts that she did not trust herself to speak.
‘Well, Kitty,’ he said, his smile broadening. ‘The first I can do something about straight away. With her parents’ approval, I think we should be married as soon as possible, don’t you? As for the second, I hope it won’t be too long, once we’re married, before we’re blessed with children.’ There was a wistful note in his voice as he added, ‘I’d love a big family. I’ve missed having brothers and sisters.’
Kitty swallowed. Latching on to the first suggestion, she said, ‘That’s a wonderful idea, Mr Guy. Miss Miriam will make a beautiful bride.’
‘Yes, yes.’ The young man’s eyes softened. ‘She will, won’t she?’
‘If – if you’ll excuse me, Mr Guy, I must be getting ready. Mr Edward and I are leaving.’
‘Oh yes, yes, of course. You must be wanting to get home to your little boy. I’m sorry you’re already a day later than you intended, but thank you again.’
‘I-it’s all right, Mr Guy,’ she murmured. She knew in her heart that it was anything but “all right”. Just what Jack would say, or do, when he returned home to the empty cottage, she dare not think.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Jack caught hold of her shoulders and slammed her roughly against the wall as she stepped through the door of the cottage. Kitty let out a cry of pain as her head banged against the wall and his strong fingers dug deeply into the flesh on her upper arms.
‘Jack—’
‘You’ve been with some man. You whore! Is this what you do when I’m away all week?’
‘Jack!’ Now she gasped his name. ‘How can you say such a thing?’ Then as rightful indignation brought courage, she lifted her arms and thrust him away from her, anger lending her extra strength. Caught unawares, he released his hold and stepped backwards.
‘How dare you even think such a thing about me?’ she shouted at him. ‘Judge everyone else by yar own standards, d’ya? I shouldn’t think you go to bed every night on yar own when you’re away from me in the week, d’ya?’
It was what she had thought for several months, but she had kept the fear pressed down, pushed to the back of her mind. Now, in her rage, the accusation hung in the air between them.
‘A man’s got his needs.’
‘Aye, and you’ve got more “needs” than most, Jack Thorndyke,’ she cried bitterly.
He thrust his face, dark with anger, close to hers. ‘It’s him, ain’t it?’
Genuinely puzzled, Kitty stared up into his face. ‘Him? Who are you talking about?’
Again he gripped her arm, but not so fiercely this time. ‘You know very well. Master Edward Franklin. Don’t think I don’t know he comes here when I’m away. There’s nothing you can do, girl, that I won’t get to hear about, so don’t you forget it. And he’s not to come here again. You hear?’
‘He came here the once,’ she retorted. ‘To ask me to go to London to help with—’
‘London?’ His voice was an enraged roar. ‘You’ve been to London?’
Kitty bit her lip, realizing her mistake.
‘You left my son to go gadding off to London?’
‘It wasn’t “gadding off”,’ she retorted hotly, thinking of the cold, damp cell where she might very well have ended up for weeks, even months, but for the honesty of the police constable.
‘Johnnie’s with my mother. He’s quite safe.’
‘He’d better be, or else . . .’ The threat hung between them.
Then suddenly Jack laughed and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. ‘I suppose you’ll be trying to tell me next that he came to see his nephew?’
Kitty’s lips parted in a gasp. ‘No, no. He doesn’t know. He mustn’t know. He must never know.’
‘Mustn’t he?’ Jack’s eyes were glinting now with malicious delight. ‘Mustn’t he indeed? Then you’ll just have to be a good girl and behave yourself, won’t you, Kitty Clegg?’
He turned and dragged open the back door and walked away across the small yard towards the shed while Kitty stared after him.
‘What a fool,’ she murmured. ‘What a fool I have been.’
But now, with his final threat still echoing in her ears, she knew she was trapped, tied to Jack Thorndyke whether she wanted to be or not.
Thirty-Seven
Jack was in a black mood.
‘Madam . . .’ the word was heavy with sarcasm, and for a moment Kitty was unsure whether he was speaking about Mrs Franklin or Miss Miriam, ‘sent word out to the yard this morning that she wants to see you up at the Manor.’ He glowered. ‘I don’t want you seeing any of the Franklin family, but there’s not a lot I can do about it, seeing as me work’s there for the next few weeks.’ He paused and then said grudgingly, ‘Ya’d better go an’ see what the Mrs wants.’
Kitty bent over the range and made no reply. She did not tell him that she had every intention of going to the Manor whether he gave her his divine permission or not. She ladled stew on to a plate and placed it before him. As she made to turn away, Jack grasped her wrist in his strong grip forcing her to look at him.
‘I don’t want you to have owt to do with her . . .’ now she knew he was referring to Miriam, ‘or any of them. I don’t want her suddenly deciding to claim her son back.’
Kitty stared at him. ‘She’ll not do that. That I do know. She’s more frightened of anyone finding out she is his mother.’
Jack’s expression became devious. ‘Is she now? And I wonder how much my silence is worth?’
Kitty was shocked. She twisted her wrist out of his grasp and then leaned close to him. ‘Don’t you dare try it, Jack, ’cos it’s only your word against mine – and hers. And her family’s a mite more powerful than a thresherman, big though he thinks he is.’
He, too, thrust his face close to hers. ‘Aye, but it’d sow seeds of doubt in everyone’s mind, especially in that fancy – wealthy – fiancé of hers.’
Kitty shook her head. ‘Don’t, Jack, don’t even think about it, ’cos you’ll be sorry if you do.’
‘You threatening me, Kitty Clegg?’ He never lost an opportunity to use her full name, accenting the surname and taunting her that she was still a single woman and likely to remain so, emphasizing each time he used it that she would never bear the name of Thorndyke.
‘No,’ she said levelly. ‘But you would be sorry. Not for anything I might do, but for what it’d cost you. The influence of the Franklins, and the Hardings too don’t forget, reaches far. Throughout the county, I shouldn’t wonder and if you—’
‘Yes, yes, I know all that. D’ya think I’m stupid enough to cut off me own living?’
Kitty raised her left eyebrow but said nothing. She would have liked to answer him back, to say, ‘you didn’t think of that when you tumbled Miss Miriam in the hay, did you?’ but it didn’t do to argue with Jack in this mood. It was not that she was afraid of him, but she had a favour to ask. Aloud she said, ‘Will you look after Johnnie this afternoon, then, while
I go?’
‘I ain’t no nursemaid. That’s women’s work. ’Sides, a stackyard’s no place for a bairn. Another couple of years and I’ll have him doing little jobs, but not yet.’ His grin was sly as he suggested, ‘Tek him with you. I’m sure Mrs Franklin would like to see her grandson, and as for Miss Miriam, well, any mother must long to see her own child.’
Kitty almost snorted aloud and retorted, not Miss Miriam, but she managed to hold the words in check.
‘Now you stay with Mrs Grundy while I go upstairs and see the mistress. Be a good boy, Johnnie. Maybe Mrs G.’ll give you a scone and butter, if you’re very good,’ she added in a whisper that was deliberately loud so that the cook should hear.
Mrs Grundy stood before him, arms akimbo, looking down at the boy, whose mischievous eyes twinkled back at her.
‘So this is your boy, then, Kitty?’
Careful as ever in her choice of words, Kitty said, ‘This is Johnnie. He’ll be no trouble, but just keep your eye on him, Mrs G. He’ll do anything to get out into the yard and to his dad, if he can.’
The boy pointed towards the back door. ‘Dad, engine, puff-puff. Me go.’
‘No, no, you stay here.’
‘He’ll be all right, Kitty. Me an’ him’ll have a nice little chat, eh, now won’t we, an’ I’ll see what I’ve got in me pantry.’
Kitty ran up the stairs and knocked on Mrs Franklin’s sitting-room door. Moments later she was sitting with the mistress on her window seat and it seemed, for an instant, as if the years fell away and she was once again the little kitchen maid begging to become a lady’s maid.
Oh what trouble she might have saved herself, she thought suddenly, if only she had not been sitting here all that time ago.
‘Kitty, my dear. How are you?’
Chaff upon the Wind Page 25
