Ellie Pride

by Annie Groves

  Ellie had been looking forward to attending her cousin’s wedding for months, knowing that she would see her family.

  ‘My sister Gibson has secured such a good match for your cousin. I should like to see you equally well married, Ellie, but I fear…’

  Ellie tensed, knowing already what her aunt was going to say. Her own parentage meant that she could not look as high as Cecily for a potential husband.

  Angry tears shimmered in Ellie’s eyes. Rebelliously she wished that people might value others for their kindness and their virtues and not for their places in society and the size of their bank accounts. It infuriated and hurt her whenever she heard her father being disparaged, but she knew that she would earn herself a sharp rebuke and, even worse, a reminder of what she owed her mother, if she were to voice those feelings.

  ‘Ellie, please pay attention. You are not listening to me,’ Ellie heard her aunt reproaching her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Aunt.’

  Ellie had become extremely fond of her aunt, towards whom she had developed a similar sense of responsibility and protectiveness as she had felt towards her younger siblings.

  ‘Oh, my poor head,’ her aunt moaned. ‘You do not know how lucky you are not to be afflicted with such sensitive nerves, Ellie. Your mother always was more robust than the rest of us and, of course, your father…’ She gave a faint shudder as though the very act of speaking of Ellie’s father was too much for her.

  Immediately, Ellie wanted to rush to her father’s defence and to tell her aunt how much she wished she was still living in the humble house in Friargate, above her father’s shop. She had been so happy then, and had taken that happiness for granted, never dreaming her life would change so drastically.

  ‘The most dreadful thing has happened,’ Aunt Lavinia announced theatrically. ‘That wretched dressmaker arrived this morning with our outfits for your cousin’s wedding, and I cannot believe what she has done. I told her specifically that I wanted the eau-de-Nil silk trimming with matching satin, and the wretched creature has only trimmed it with the most horrid shade of jade imaginable. The gown is completely unwearable and will have to be remade, but now, if you please, she tells me that she is unable to obtain any more of the eau-de-Nil. Your uncle will be furious, as I was to have worn the opals!’

  ‘Perhaps if I were to have a look at it…’ Ellie suggested, trying to comfort her.

  ‘Well, you are very good with your needle, Ellie,’ her aunt allowed, before adding fretfully, ‘but I feel so unwell. I really don’t feel well enough to go down for dinner tonight. And Mr Parkes is in one of his cross moods.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie saw the looks the women exchanged.

  ‘Perhaps you can coax him round a little, Ellie, my love. He was saying only the other night how well you play the piano, and you are a far better card player than I am,’ her aunt began.

  ‘I am sure that Miss Pride will be only too pleased to be able to repay your generosity to her, ma’am,’ Wrotham told her aunt, whilst directing a dire look at Ellie herself.

  A little uncomfortably, Ellie picked up her cue. ‘If Mr Parkes wishes me to play for him then of course I shall be pleased to do so. And if your head is very bad, Aunt, perhaps I could go down to the kitchen and ask Cook to prepare you a tisane,’ Ellie offered.

  ‘Oh, that is very kind of you, Ellie, but Wrotham has everything in hand. She is to bring me a light supper, and some of my special restorative tonic.’

  ‘I ordered a fresh supply from the chemist this week, ma’am, as we had almost finished the bottle.’

  Ellie’s frown deepened. As kind as Mr Parkes was to her, Ellie could not help but notice how very unkind he could sometimes be towards her aunt. She knew that her aunt suffered badly from nervous spasms and intense headaches that prostrated her. Her sensibilities were easily upset, especially by her husband’s often hectoring and critical manner, sometimes so much so that she could be laid low for days and unable either to leave her room or receive anyone. At those times Wrotham virtually stood guard inside the door, insisting that her mistress was not to be disturbed.

  Hesitantly, Ellie looked at her aunt. She had been bolstering her courage all week to ask Aunt Lavinia for a very special favour and now was as good a moment as she was likely to get.

  It was almost the anniversary of her mother’s death, and although Ellie understood that she could not be with her family so that they could all remember Lydia and mourn her loss together, she was desperately hoping that she would be allowed to telephone them all. The telephone was in her uncle’s study and the door to the study was kept locked whenever he was away from the house. No one was allowed to use the telephone without her uncle’s permission, and Ellie was nervously apprehensive about asking for such a favour.

  But it would mean so much to her just to hear the voices of her father, her sister and her brother. Baby Joseph, of course, would not be talking yet.

  Ellie had carefully stitched a little lawn gown for his first birthday and only the previous day she had handed it to Mr Parkes and asked him to post it for her, along with her handmade birthday card. She had painstakingly copied from a photograph her mother’s features inside the card, her hand trembling so much with emotion that she had been forced to stop several times to wait for it to steady.

  Her aunt was moaning softly and Wrotham was giving Ellie a meaningful look. Disheartened, Ellie recognised that this was not a good time to beg for her favour after all.

  In her own room, off which she had her own private bathroom – a previously unheard of luxury – Ellie rang for Lizzie, explaining when the maid arrived, ‘I am to dine alone with Mr Parkes this evening, since my aunt is not well enough to leave her room. Apparently he wishes me to play the piano for him.’

  There was a look in Lizzie’s eyes that Ellie did not understand, a combination of pity and anger. But then all the servants were in awe, perhaps even a little afraid, of her formidable uncle.

  Very daringly, Ellie wondered if she might actually ask Mr Parkes himself if she could telephone her family.

  Kind though her uncle was to her, Ellie could not feel quite comfortable addressing him as ‘Uncle Josiah’. Even her aunt referred to him as Mr Parkes. Perhaps tonight, if he was particularly pleased with her playing, she might ask him.

  ‘Which dress will you be wanting to wear, miss?’ Lizzie asked, going to the closet.

  ‘I think perhaps the grey silk,’ Ellie told her. Her grey silk was amongst some new gowns her aunt had had made for her, its style elegantly plain, showing off her hand-span waist and firm, high breasts.

  Thanks to Lizzie’s skilled help it didn’t take Ellie long to change. Quickly thanking and then dismissing her, Ellie made her way downstairs.

  ‘Ah, Ellie, my dear, how delightful you look.’

  Automatically, Ellie got up from the chair where she had been seated; flushing a little self-consciously beneath her uncle’s approving scrutiny as he walked into the drawing room.

  Every night, no matter that they might be dining alone, her aunt and uncle always changed for dinner. The diamonds in Mr Parkes’ shirt cuffs glinted in the light. His dark hair was thinning and, like the King, he sported a full beard. As he came into the room he brought with him the smell of hair oil, male cologne and cigars.

  As he spoke he looked fully at Ellie, his gaze not quite resting on her waist and then her breasts. Telling herself that her nervousness was caused by the favour she wanted to ask him, Ellie returned his smile.

  ‘Mr Parkes has a real fondness for you, Ellie,’ her aunt had told her not long after she had come to live in Hoylake, and Ellie knew that it was true that her uncle was well disposed towards her. So much so, in fact, that occasionally she felt a little uncomfortable when she compared his jovial manner towards her with the impatient irritation with which he so often addressed his wife!

  He removed his pocket-watch from his waistcoat, studied it, replaced it in his pocket, and then announced, ‘Time for dinner, if you ar
e ready, my dear,’ extending his arm to Ellie.

  Ellie found herself hesitating slightly before placing her hand on her uncle’s crooked arm. Such formality made her uncomfortable, as if she were on show.

  ‘I am sorry that my aunt is not well enough to come down for dinner,’ Ellie commented, as the parlour maid bobbed a brief curtsy before opening the dining-room door for them.

  ‘Are you? I’m not,’ her uncle responded, causing Ellie to draw in her breath a little. ‘She is much better off remaining in her room until she is feeling better,’ he continued smoothly. ‘And I would not wish to add to her malaise by constraining her to join us for a meal for which she has no appetite. You, I hope, have a good appetite tonight, Ellie?’

  For some reason both his words and the tone of his voice sent a frisson of unease down Ellie’s spine.

  ‘I…I do not know, sir,’ she responded. ‘I…’

  ‘Sir?’ her uncle checked her. ‘Come, come, we have already agreed, have we not, that you are to call me “Uncle”. For, after all, that is what I am.’

  Normally Ellie had a good appetite but tonight she found that she was picking at her food, and feeling very apprehensive. Every time she opened her mouth to introduce the subject of her using the telephone, she somehow found it impossible to actually say the words, and had to close it again. The dining room felt very hot, and her own head was beginning to ache a little. It was foolish of her, Ellie knew, but she did not feel entirely comfortable being alone with her uncle, even though he was obviously doing his best to put her at her ease, and even paying her compliments. However, when she got up, intending to leave her uncle to his port, he stopped her, reaching out and taking hold of her wrist.

  ‘I do not think that tonight I shall need any other intoxication than that of watching you playing the piano for me, Ellie.’

  His hand was on her arm, and Ellie felt herself give a little shudder.

  ‘Cold? I shall send for more coals.’

  ‘No, no, it is not that,’ Ellie assured him. Surely this was the time to ask for her favour. Before she could lose her courage, she began, ‘Mr Parkes – Uncle…Josiah,’ she corrected herself, stammering nervously, ‘Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death, and I…I was wondering if you would allow me to use the telephone to speak with my family.’

  Immediately the dark eyebrows snapped together and Ellie was treated to a glare every bit as angry and formidable as those normally reserved for her aunt. Her whole body trembled as her uncle’s hand tightened on her arm, almost as though he intended to shake her.

  ‘Your family? What is this, Ellie? I thought that you understood that your aunt and I are your family now. Haven’t we treated you as our daughter? You have shocked and upset me, Ellie. Naturally you have mourned your mother, as is proper, but as for this request you have made,’ he continued sternly, ‘you have a new life now, Ellie, and so do your sister and brothers. Do you think it would be fair to them if you, as the eldest of the family, deliberately reminded them of past unhappiness?’

  ‘But my father –’ Ellie whispered, her throat dry. ‘I have not heard from him, and –’

  ‘Does that in itself not tell you something, Ellie?’ Mr Parkes demanded sharply. ‘Your father has handed the responsibility of you all into the hands of others now, my dear. Your concern for him does you credit, and I well know that you have a tender heart, but I promise you, the kindest thing you can do for him is to allow him to live his life as he has chosen to live it.’

  Ellie could feel a hot ball of pain burning her throat. She longed to cry out against what Mr Parkes was saying to her, but she was afraid to do so. Mr Parkes was telling her that her father had abandoned them, that he no longer considered them to be his concern; his children! Ellie wanted to protest that that was impossible, but then she remembered her father’s lack of response to her letters, and her pleas to him to let her know he still loved her.

  ‘There now, Ellie, do not look so distressed. Haven’t we made you happy here, Mrs Parkes and myself? I can assure you, my dear, that we wish to do so. Now, why don’t you be a good girl and play the piano for me and we shall forget all about this little upset and say no more about it?’

  As Ellie battled with her tears she allowed her uncle to guide her into the drawing room. Ellie had always had a good ear for music and normally enjoyed playing the piano but tonight her fingers felt stiff, fumbling over some of the keys.

  Her uncle was standing very close to her, leaning over her to turn the pages of the music for her, a kindness that Ellie knew she should thank him for but which, for some silly reason, only added to her discomfort.

  ‘You smell deliciously of violets, Ellie – a young girl’s scent,’ he told her, his breath hot against the side of her neck.

  Ellie could feel herself starting to blush, as she almost missed a note.

  ‘Come, you must not be embarrassed because I pay you a compliment. Surely our young men here in Hoylake have not been slow to notice what a very pretty girl you are?’

  Ellie’s embarrassment intensified.

  ‘And then, of course, there was that unsuitable young man in Preston. I am sure that he told you how pretty you are, Ellie, and perhaps did more than merely speaking to you of his feelings, eh?’

  Ellie was too shocked to speak. It was unbearable to be reminded of Gideon so soon after being told that her father had deserted them. Only she knew of the fierce battle she had fought with herself to put Gideon out of her heart and her thoughts. To be reminded of him now, at a time when she was feeling so vulnerable, filled her with an intense feeling of loss and grief. The scent of her uncle’s body so close to her own was suddenly overwhelmingly nauseating. Gideon had smelled of fresh air and youth instead of strong cologne; Gideon’s touch on her skin had made her feel happy. Her uncle was stroking her arm, no doubt intending to comfort her, but, to Ellie’s relief, she heard the rattle of coffee cups outside the drawing-room door. Her uncle’s hand dropped away from her arm, and she was free to stand up.

  ELEVEN

  Robert Pride stared unseeingly at the table in front of him. The bottle resting on it was nearly empty and so was the glass beside it. Empty just like this parlour…just like his life!

  Despairingly, Robert got to his feet. Was it really only a year since this room had rung with the voices of his family – his wife, Lyddy, and his children!

  But now Lyddy was dead and had been for nearly twelve months, and as for his children…Bitterness pulled down Robert’s mouth and hardened his eyes. It was his wife’s sisters who had robbed him of his children, who had taken from him the only comfort left to him – aye, and it was they who kept them from him too, turning them against him.

  He had heard nothing from Ellie, nothing at all. Connie, bless her, had written to him though – but only in the briefest way, and as for John, his son…

  Robert knew he would never forget the humiliation of taking a hansom out to Hutton Grammar School, all dressed up in his best clothes, his hair washed and slicked back with brilliantine, wanting to surprise John on his birthday and being forbidden to see his son. He had had news for John as well, news that he knew would gladden his heart.

  Gideon Walker had offered to give a home to Rex, the collie pup he had given John, and which John had not been allowed to take to Hutton with him, but Robert’s brother-in-law, summoned by his wife, had flatly refused to allow Robert to see his son.

  ‘John’s settled with us now. And the baby too,’ Emily Jepson said.

  Robert had known from the way the other man was looking at him that he believed that John would be as unwilling to see him as they were to allow him to do so.

  And as though in confirmation of his fears his brother-in-law declared contemptuously, ‘Look at yourself, man. Do you think John will want to see you?’

  Suddenly Robert had felt out of place and uncomfortably conscious of the social gulf that existed between his wife’s relatives and himself. He had wanted to leave John a few guineas, but the
shop hadn’t been doing as well as it had formerly, and he had had to lay off one of his young apprentices. There had been a tale put about by a jealous rival butcher that Robert Pride’s meat was tainted, and then there had been those days when he had simply not felt able to overcome the black cloud of despair hanging over him and go down and open up the shop, and so he had left it closed and his customers to buy their meat elsewhere. Long black days when he had lain in the bed he had shared with Lyddy and cried out to the Lord to tell him what he had done to be so punished, to have his children taken from him as well as his wife. The baby, Joseph, wouldn’t even know that he was his father!

  Robert frowned as he heard his brother Will calling up to him as he ascended the stairs. Guiltily he pushed the bottle and the glass out of sight, although they had left telltale marks in the dusty surface of the small table.

  ‘I thought I might find you in the Drover’s,’ Will commented breezily, ‘seeing as you’ve become a regular down there.’

  Robert said nothing. Will would not understand if he told him that it wasn’t the drink that took him to the public house, but his desire to escape from the emptiness of his house – the emptiness and the ghosts of his lost family.

  Will Pride watched his brother with a mixture of compassion and irritation. Robert had always been the stronger of the two; the more respectable, the one whom the rest of their family held up to Will as a pattern card, but now it seemed that Robert’s strength had gone, and Will, who had never felt comfortable dealing in emotions, couldn’t understand why a man in his brother’s position spent his nights alone in an empty house when he could have spent them in the arms and the bed of any one of a dozen accommodating buxom beauties. Robert was still a well-set-up man, and one who would appear even better if he smiled occasionally instead of looking as though he had lost a guinea and found a sixpence.

  After Lyddy’s death Robert had poured out his feelings to Will, begging him to tell him that he had done the right thing in allowing his sisters-in-law to take his children.