by Diane Allen
Ethan sat across from her, half-asleep, content that he’d visited the legendary Appleby Fair and unconcerned that his presence might be missed at home – unlike Rosie. With every mile they were nearer home she felt sick at the thought of having to explain her disappearance, if her parents had already returned to Crummock. She’d not thought of the consequences of her trip; but now, with hindsight, her mother was going to be frantic, whereas Ethan had no one to answer to. He’d not lied to his parents, he just hadn’t gone to visit them, and he’d not spent every penny that he had. The sixpence he said he had in his pocket had remained there all day and they were both going home hungry, filthy and tired. Rosie wondered if Ethan had any money on him at all, for they had drunk from a spring that fed the River Eden, rather than Ethan spending his elusive sixpence. How she wished she had not been so easily led. It was her fault; after all, it had been her idea and she had no one else to blame.
‘She’s not in her room. Where is she, Danny?’ Harriet came rushing down the stairs, frantic with worry.
‘She’ll not be far.’ Danny tried to calm his wife. ‘I’ll go and look outside and ask Ethan if he’s seen her.’ He reached for the kitchen door, while Archie looked out of the kitchen window and spotted a horse and riders galloping like the wind, up the lane to Crummock.
‘Don’t bother going to look for either Ethan or Rosie. Come and look here. God only knows where they’ve been, but they are in a hell of a hurry to get back home.’ Archie sat down in the chair next to the unlit fire and looked up at his son’s scowling face.
‘I’ll bloody kill him! What does he think he’s doing, taking one of the horses and putting our Rosie up behind him? You should never have brought him here, Father. Isabelle said he was more bother than he was worth.’ Danny made it to the back door and opened it wide.
‘Now just think on. Rosie was the one who said she was too ill to join us today. They’ve obviously planned their day out together. Besides, they might not have been far.’ Archie tried to talk some sense into his son. It was no good that he was just blaming Ethan.
‘The fire’s not been stoked since the minute we left this house, nothing has been touched – she’s been out with him all day. By God, they are both going to tell me what they’ve been up to,’ Danny swore as he closed the door behind him.
Sensing the tension within the house, baby Georgina started wailing, and Harriet sent Ben to his room as her eyes filled up with tears at the thought that her daughter had lied to her.
‘She’s at that age, Harriet. She’s not your little lass any more, she’s nearly a grown woman,’ Archie said, as he crumpled newspaper into the dead hearth and added a few dry kindling sticks, before lighting the fire with a match. ‘She’ll have been alright, don’t you worry. Ethan is not the devil that Isabelle makes him out to be. There will be an explanation.’ Archie watched as the kindling sticks took hold, and then gently added pieces of coal until a good blaze roared.
‘She’s still our little girl, she’s only sixteen. Danny will kill Ethan.’ Harriet consoled Georgina with a biscuit from the tin above the fire, and sat her down on the pegged rug next to her grandfather.
‘Nay, he won’t. Not if he remembers that he was young himself.’ Archie smiled down at his youngest grandchild. ‘They are no bother when they are your age, but they are nowt but worry when they grow up, eh, li’l ’un?’ He listened as he heard his son raising his voice at the pair, who had just entered the farmyard on the hard-driven horse. He knew that perhaps he was to blame, after introducing Ethan to Crummock; lately he had noticed the smile on Rosie’s face whenever he was mentioned. It was worth it, just for that. Besides, Ethan was a good lad; a bit wild maybe, but he hadn’t a bad bone in his body. The back door was flung open and Rosie walked in, tears streaming down her face and her clothes splattered with mud.
‘They’ve been on the bloody train, up to Appleby. Just look at her, coming back looking and smelling like a bloody gyppo!’ Danny pushed Rosie into the kitchen. ‘That bloody lad – he trailed her up there, to be with his own. They’ll be running away together before you know it.’ He was fuming.
Rosie pulled her arm away from her father and looked at her mother and grandfather. ‘It’s my fault, not Ethan’s. He didn’t make me go. I suggested it – it was my idea. He really wanted to see if we could find his grandfather. I’m sorry I lied, but I knew you’d not let us go, even if we asked,’ she cried.
‘Too bloody right, lass. Now get yourself up the stairs, and don’t let me see your face until the morning. Just be glad you are not going to get the braying I’m going to give Ethan, before I send him on his way,’ Danny growled.
‘No, Father, please don’t send him away. It wasn’t his fault; please, it was mine. I’d rather you took your belt to me,’ sobbed Rosie.
‘Just get yourself to bed, Rosie.’ Harriet watched as her daughter, still sobbing, made her way down the passage and up the stairs to bed. ‘You can’t belt Ethan. And, like you said, you’ll need him in the next month or two for hay-time. Have a word with his father – he’ll sort Ethan out. Rosie’s come to no harm, and it’s as clear as the nose on your face that she’s sweet on him, otherwise she wouldn’t have lied to us.’ Harriet glanced quickly at Archie as she put the kettle on the now-blazing fire.
‘It’s all your bloody fault, Father. I should have said no to Ethan coming here.’ Danny spat into the fire.
‘Nay, lad, you can’t blame me for his curiosity about where he comes from. Everybody wants to know that. Rosie was only being kind.’ Archie looked up at his son and then poked the fire, knowing he shouldn’t say another word on the subject.
‘Aye, well, she’s back now, I suppose that’s all that matters,’ said Danny. ‘But I will have a word with his father; happen he can square Ethan up a bit.’
Harriet went quietly to the pantry and cut a slice of bread and cheese, then took it up to her heartbroken daughter without Danny noticing. ‘Don’t cry, Rosie, your father’s not going to do anything to Ethan. He’s never hit anybody yet, and he knows he needs him this summertime.’ She ran her fingers through her daughter’s long hair as she sobbed in her arms. ‘You know, you may think a lot of Ethan, but he’s just the first boy in your life, and there will be a lot more yet. And he isn’t worth lying for.’ Harriet kissed her daughter on her brow and hugged her tightly. ‘He didn’t do anything to you, did he, Rosie?’
‘What do you mean, Mother?’ Rosie looked up at Isabelle.
‘You didn’t lift your skirts for him, did you, dear?’ Harriet hated asking, but it was one of the first things that had entered her head when Rosie came into the kitchen.
‘Only to climb onto the horse. He did see my ankles, Mama.’ Rosie blushed.
‘That’s alright, dear, we’ll let him get away with that. Remember, though, that Ethan’s nearly a man – a man with urges. Don’t get too close to him. Now you eat your bread and cheese and tidy yourself up. Your father will have calmed down by the morning and will soon forgive you both.’ She stood up and looked down at her distraught daughter.
‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Rosie sniffed.
‘Just don’t let your heart rule your head, Rosie. You are almost a woman, and you can’t act like a child any more. Perhaps more time with your cousin Jane would help. She’s quite the young lady, and you could do worse than follow her lead.’
‘Please, Mama, I think I’d rather be belted by my father than spend time with Jane.’
‘We will be visiting Skipton and the store next week. You are having your photograph taken by Uncle James. You can see Jane then, while I spend time with your Aunt Isabelle. Thank heavens she can’t see you in this state. Now, get yourself washed and to bed, for tomorrow is another day.’ Harriet closed the bedroom door behind her, listening to the sobs of her daughter. Archie was right: she was growing up, but she was still a little girl really, and always would be, in her mother’s eyes.
Jethro pulled the ropes tight, securing the old grandfather clock from Windfel
l’s hallway tightly onto the cart.
‘You’ll not be too hard on him, Jethro? Ethan’s only young and curious.’ Mazy looked at her husband, who had been in a mood since Danny Atkinson had told him of their son’s trip to Appleby with his daughter.
‘I’ll tell you what, woman: he’s got to learn his place in the world, instead of looking at what he can’t have. Bloody running away with Miss Rosie in search of his grandfather. I’ll give him something to remember his grandfather by. This isn’t the first time he’s messed about with the lasses of the big house. I saw him trying to kiss Miss Jane, and told him to leave well alone. What’s wrong with the lad?’
‘Nowt’s wrong with him – he’s just young.’ Mazy watched as Jethro climbed up onto the cart and whipped the horses into action, making the bell on the grandfather clock chime with the jolting vehicle. It was rare that Jethro lost his temper, but he’d had time to brood on his son’s wild ways and that was always a bad thing.
‘I’m glad you could find time to bring the clock from Windfell, Jethro,’ said Archie as he watched the strong man lifting the oak-cased clock down from the cart, before hauling it on his shoulder into the farmhouse at Crummock. Jethro returned to the cart for the clock face’s case, then helped Archie carry the weight that pulled on the clock’s chains to make it work.
‘Aye, well, I need to square up that lad of mine while I’m here. I’m sorry he’s caused you and your family bother. He should have known better than to do that. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ Jethro stood in front of Archie and wiped his brow with his neckerchief.
‘Nay, it was our Rosie just as much to blame. She’d paid for the tickets and put the idea in his head; they are a lot alike, those two.’ Archie looked at the brooding man and knew that Ethan was going to get the rough side of Jethro’s tongue.
‘Nay, they are not alike, if you don’t mind me saying, sir. Your Rosie is a lady, and my lad needs to know his place.’ Jethro spat out a mouthful of saliva and grabbed the horses’ reins. ‘Is he in the stable, our lad?’
‘No, he’s in the calf shed, mucking it out. Danny kept him near home today, knowing you were coming. Don’t be too hard on him, Jethro. Nobody was hurt, and they both came home none the worse for their day out.’ Archie was trying to calm him down, but knew Ethan was going to be in for a belting, even though he was old enough to take on his father.
‘He’ll not be doing the same again, sir. And thank you for keeping Ethan on here. I wouldn’t have blamed either you or Master Danny if you had sent him packing. It’s what he deserves.’ Jethro grabbed the reins of his horses, unable to talk to his former master any more without showing his true feelings. He led the horses around the back of the farmhouse to the stables, stopping for a moment as he watched his lad busy with a pitchfork, mucking out the calf shed into a wheelbarrow.
Ethan looked up from his work, after hearing the horses and cart come into the yard. ‘Father, I knew you would come. Before you do anything, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.’
‘Too bloody right, lad. And aye, well, you know why I’m here.’ Jethro dropped his horses’ reins and strode over to his son, undoing his thick leather belt from around his waist and wrapping the buckle end around his fist.
Ethan cringed and cowered back into the calf shed. He knew all too well what his father’s temper was like, when pushed. He stood with his back against the wall. ‘I’m too old for that now, Father, you can’t belt me any more. I didn’t do any harm. Rosie and I just had a day away together, that’s all.’
‘Rosie, is it? It’s “Miss Atkinson” to you, lad.’ Jethro raised his left hand and slapped Ethan across the face and then, with the belt buckle round his right hand, belted Ethan again and again over his back, as his son begged for him to stop. ‘You’ll show the Atkinson family some respect. You owe your very existence to them. Know your place, lad, and leave their young women alone.’ The belt cracked repeatedly on Ethan’s back, cutting through his shirt and raising blood across his back.
Jethro stood over his son, who lay sprawled in the manure of the calf shed, shaking with fear at his father’s wrath, not daring to fight back.
‘Miss Rosie is not for you, lad, and the sooner you realize that the better. And as for finding that grandfather of yours, get the idea out of your head because I hope he’s dancing with the devil. He did nowt for my mother and nowt for me.’
‘Jethro! Stop at once. There was no need to go that far,’ shouted Danny across the farmyard, after hearing Ethan’s screams from within the house. ‘He only needed a word, not flaying to within an inch of his life.’
‘Nay, words are wasted on him; he’s been told once before. This time he knew what was coming.’ Jethro picked up his cap from where it had fallen after his attack on his son. ‘He’ll not be giving you any more bother. Will you, lad?’ Jethro scowled at his son and didn’t show an ounce of pity.
Ethan looked up at Danny Atkinson, with his bloodied back against the whitewashed walls of the calf shed and tears in his eyes, and mumbled, ‘No, sir, I know my place.’ But within him still flashed defiance. He dared to look at Jethro, who was grovelling next to his master, instead of being proud of his son. No wonder his father was still just a groom; he had no ambition and didn’t dare to dream. Ethan vowed that would be the last beating he would ever take from his father, or any man.
‘Get yourself home, Jethro. Ethan, go up to your room above the stables and take care of yourself for the rest of the day. Mrs Atkinson will bring you a bite to eat.’ Danny watched as Jethro mounted the steps to the cart and moved the horses out of the yard. It was a side to Jethro he had never seen before and didn’t want to see again. The lad hadn’t deserved such a belting. As his father had pointed out, neither of the youngsters were the worse for their trip away together. So why be so harsh?
Ethan pulled himself up and made his way slowly to the stables, climbing up the ladder to the warm, safe hayloft where his mattress lay in one corner. Lying down on it, he ran his finger over the welts that he could reach and looked at the blood on his fingers. He’d not let his father do that again. In fact he’d make a point of never seeing his father again, if he could help it. Nobody would tell him what to do from now on, unless it was worth his while. As for Rosie, well, she was still his girl. Belting or no belting.
‘Ethan? Are you there, Ethan?’ Rosie whispered into the darkness.
‘Aye, I’m up here.’ He crawled to the edge of the loft and looked down at Rosie in the dim light of the candle. She was in her nightshift, and her golden hair hung loose around her angelic face.
‘I’ve brought some of my mother’s best salve for your cuts. But they don’t know I’m here. I’ve sneaked out while they are all asleep.’ Rosie climbed up the wooden ladder in her bare feet, placing the candle and the pot of salve next to Ethan.
‘They’ll hang us, if they find us both together,’ Ethan whispered as she sat down beside him.
‘They’ll not find out, if you are quiet. Now, take off your shirt and let me put this on your cuts.’ Rosie unscrewed the lid of the pot and looked at the face of Ethan, who she knew had taken a beating for her. She ran her fingers gently over the welts and heard him gasp with pain as the salve seeped into his wounds. ‘I’m sorry, Ethan, this is all my fault. It was me who bought the tickets, and me who thought it was a good idea.’ She sat back into the darkness of the hay-loft as she watched him replace his tattered shirt.
‘I’d do it all again, just for you to visit me like you are tonight.’ Ethan leaned over to Rosie and pulled her towards him. ‘My father was wrong: we are not that dissimilar. Kiss me, Rosie. Let them not part us, no matter what our differences.’
Rosie looked across at the lad she knew she had feelings for. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she closed her eyes and waited for the kiss she had been dreaming of. She held Ethan tightly and kissed his lips, before drawing back from his arms as she caught her breath.
‘I’ll have to go,’ she whispered. ‘They might miss me
.’ She liked the feel of Ethan’s warm, firm hands on her body, and knew that if she stayed any longer it would be asking for trouble. She picked up the candle and climbed down the ladder, looking up at the face she knew she loved, before disappearing into the night.
Ethan watched the small flame blend into the darkness. Now that was a dream worth chasing, and one that merited the thrashing of his life.
9
Isabelle sat back in her office chair and gazed out of the window. Papers and invoices were strewn over her desk, along with cloth samples and designs. She was snowed under with work, but still she could not concentrate on the tasks in hand. Something was wrong with James, but she didn’t quite know what. Ever since they had moved to Windfell, he had been more distant towards her. Perhaps he missed the busy streets of Settle, as he did seem to be going out walking on his own more of late.
She picked up the latest pattern books from Viyella and looked at them, barely giving the latest fashion of hobble skirts a second look before throwing the books back on the desk; she just couldn’t settle. She decided to take a walk through the store, which usually made her feel more relaxed and ready to take on her duties. She’d go and see how Bert was getting on with Jane, down in the warehouse, after visiting each department.
‘Morning, Mrs Fox.’ The waitress quickly curtsied and then went about her business as she served the demanding visitors in the upstairs tea-room.
‘Morning, Grace.’ Isabelle prided herself that she knew every one of her staff and always made a point of remembering their names. Heads turned as she walked around her welcoming tea-room. She spoke to the people she knew, and watched as they ate delicately cut sandwiches or fancies and cream cakes while chatting to their friends and neighbours. Atkinson’s was the place to be seen, and the clientele reflected this, with only the best-dressed people and the highly reputable eating there.
