A Mother's Shame Page 5

  ‘Where is this place? I don’t like it here,’ she wailed. ‘Please take me home, Papa.’

  He extricated his fingers from hers. ‘I am afraid that is out of the question,’ he told her as he backed towards the door, feeling guilty and anxious to escape. ‘Now you just be good. Mrs Bradshaw will take excellent care of you and I shall have your things packed up and sent along to you tomorrow.’

  ‘No!’ She would have got out of bed and gone to him but her head still felt woozy. ‘Please don’t leave me here, Papa. Please.’

  The Matron opened the door and urged, ‘I should go now, sir. There is no good in delaying.’

  He gave a cursory nod before stepping out into the corridor with Isabelle’s screams ringing in his ears.

  ‘Papa! Papa, come back!’

  As the door closed between them he sagged against the wall, hearing Isabelle’s screams grow louder.

  ‘No, no! Get away from me, get your hands off me!’

  ‘Now, now, dear,’ he heard Mrs Bradshaw say. ‘There is no point in getting yourself all upset.’

  Charles pushed himself away from the wall and set off along the corridor, unable to bear hearing any more. But what else could I have done? he asked himself. If word were to get out that Isabelle was with child, she would never be able to procure a respectable husband and might well end her days as an old maid. No, however unpleasant this was, it was for the best – and now that he had reached the decision he would stand by it. One day, Isabelle would thank him.

  Once back in the carriage, Jacobs eyed his master with concern. He was as white as a sheet and sweating profusely despite the bitterly cold weather.

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ he dared to ask.

  ‘Yes,’ Charles answered distractedly. His mind was racing ahead now, for in the morning he would have to come up with some explanation for Isabelle’s disappearance to Helena.

  The carriage moved away, throwing the men about in their seats as it trundled across the pot-holes in the dirt track. Charles stared morosely from the window, and Jacobs wisely fell silent.

  Once back at the Manor, Charles immediately went to his study and poured himself a large brandy. He threw it back in one great gulp and quickly had another – then another – coughing as the fiery spirit slid down his throat. And then it came to him. In the morning he would tell Polly to pack Isabelle’s things and inform her that her mistress had unexpectedly gone to stay with one of her schoolfriends who was ill. He would tell his wife the same, although he doubted whether she would swallow it. He rubbed his face wearily with his hand. The worst part was done now. He would face Helena’s interrogations when the time came. All he wanted now was his bed.

  Chapter Five

  The weekend seemed to go on forever, but at last it was Monday morning. Maria rose and after hastily washing in the cold water she had left on the wash-stand the night before, she then pulled her work clothes on and hurried down to the kitchen to stoke up the fire and put the kettle on. Her mother was already there stirring a pan of porridge on the old black-leaded range, and she smiled at her as the girl entered the kitchen. Maria still looked peaky and Martha was gravely concerned about her, but continued to pray that her suspicions were wrong.

  Maria hurried away to fetch some logs in from the log store and after banking the fire up she filled the kettle from the bucket of well water on the wooden draining board and pushed it into the heart of the flames. Henry was sitting at the table yawning and not looking forward to his shift down the pit one little bit.

  ‘I’ll try my hand at catching another couple o’ rabbits in Montgomery’s woods after work tonight, Mam,’ he promised. ‘The last two were right tasty, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, they were, but just make sure you don’t get caught, lad. You know how strict Montgomery is about anyone trespassing on his land.’

  Henry waved his hand airily. ‘Huh! As if he’d miss a couple o’ rabbits,’ he scoffed. ‘He owns practically ’alf o’ Nuneaton and he still isn’t satisfied.’

  Glancing nervously towards the stairs door for a sight of her husband, Martha lowered her voice. ‘That’s as maybe, but I still want you to be careful. They reckon that new gamekeeper of his is red hot and not one to show any mercy to anyone he catches.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Mam.’ Henry kissed her affectionately on the cheek as she ladled some porridge into his dish, but all conversation halted when they heard Edward’s footsteps on the stairs.

  He strode into the room and took his seat at the table without a word as his wife hurried to serve him. ‘Have you a busy day ahead, dear?’ she asked nervously.

  His brows drew together in a dark frown. ‘All my days are busy. You should know that by now! Idle hands make work for the devil. I shall spend my morning visiting the sick. There seems to be no sign of the epidemic slowing as yet. And then this afternoon it will be lessons as usual.’ Each Monday afternoon Edward used their small front parlour to tutor those of the children from the village whose parents could afford the penny fee for the privilege – not that Martha ever saw any of it.

  ‘Of course, dear.’ She held her tongue. Personally, she considered that Edward had an easy time of it compared to the other men in the village. There were no long shifts down the pit or hours spent bending over a loom for him, which accounted for his lily-white hands. She glanced at her own, reddened and sore from the many hours she spent doing her own and other people’s washing, but she made no comment.

  After hastily swallowing his breakfast, Henry rose and taking his snap box from the end of the table he headed for the door.

  ‘Make sure you wrap up warmly,’ his mother urged as she glanced towards the window. ‘’Tis enough to cut you in two out there.’

  Henry grinned as he yanked on his great coat, worn now and ill-fitting, then without a word for his father he went out into the snow which was fast turning into a blizzard.

  Maria was nearly ready to leave for work too. She forced her feet into the sturdy leather boots her mother had bought for her from the pawnshop in town the year before. They were at least a size too small for her now and regularly gave her blisters, but at least they would keep her feet reasonably dry. She then drew her woollen shawl across her head and crossed it over her chest before tying it at the back as Martha looked on.

  ‘Eeh, I’m afraid that’s going to give you little protection in this weather,’ her mother fretted. ‘As soon as I can I’ll visit the rag stall in town and see if they don’t have a warm coat for you.’

  Maria smiled at her warmly. ‘I’ve not that far to go, Mam, so don’t get fretting.’ She pecked her on the cheek then hurriedly followed her brother through the back door. Despite her brave words, the bitter cold took her breath away, and head bent she trod through the thick white carpet. Within minutes the snow had found its way over the top of her boots, and her feet and the bottom of her skirt were sodden, but Maria’s steps never faltered. The sooner she got to the post office the sooner she would be in the dry, the way she saw it. As she moved along, her thoughts returned to Lennie and tears stung at the back of her eyes. She had just spent a miserable weekend worrying about why he hadn’t kept his promise and come to speak to her father, and the mood she was in now he was due for a tongue-lashing when she did manage to catch up with him. If he didn’t have a very good excuse, that was.

  By the time the post office came into sight Maria was panting with exertion. It was no easy task wading through the ever-deepening snow and her mood did not improve when she saw that there were no lights on within. Normally Mrs Everitt was pottering about by the time Maria arrived but today the place appeared to be deserted. Pressing her nose against the cold glass, Maria peered inside before rapping sharply on the door. She waited some seconds then knocked again, louder this time but no one came.

  ‘Oh dear, what now?’ Maria grumbled to herself. If Mrs Everitt had overlaid, no doubt it would be she who would pay for it. Mrs Everitt was not the sweetest-natured of women at the best of times. Seeing no
alternative, the girl now went around the side of the building to the back door that led into small living quarters. The curtains were still drawn but Maria could see a faint glow through them.

  She rapped and called, ‘Mrs Everitt . . . are you there?’

  After a while she heard a shuffling and then the sounds of a bolt being drawn. Next minute the door opened and Mrs Everitt appeared with her thin grey hair hanging loose about her shoulders and still dressed in a long voluminous nightgown.

  ‘Goodness me!’ Maria exclaimed. ‘You look awful, Mrs Everitt.’

  ‘I feel awful,’ the woman croaked. ‘I think I’m coming down with this influenza that’s going around, so you’ll not be needed today, Maria. The shop will remain closed.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Maria said hastily, afraid of losing a day’s wages. ‘I could keep it open for you.’

  The woman shook her head. She had never trusted anyone enough to be in charge of her till, even Maria, who had always appeared to be very trustworthy.

  ‘No, that will not be necessary. I shall send for you when and if I need your assistance again.’ The woman then closed the door abruptly, leaving Maria standing there.

  ‘Damn,’ she cursed beneath her breath, thankful that her father wasn’t there to hear her. It sounded suspiciously as if she had just been dismissed, so now what was she to do? Her father would never allow her to sit at home with idle hands, but jobs were hard to come by. It seemed that things were going from bad to worse – if that were possible. There was nothing for it but to return home and tell her mother what had happened, but first she decided she would pay an impromptu visit to Lennie.

  With her mind made up, she turned and headed purposefully for his mother’s cottage. On the road she passed a few of the village men who were making their way to the pit to begin their shifts and they all raised their caps to her. The lanes were deserted and she was sure that no one would have ventured out on such a day unless they had to.

  When she finally reached Lennie’s home she was again confronted with drawn curtains, but now that she had come all this way she had no intention of going away without seeing him, so she rapped on the front door.

  ‘Bugger off!’ a woman’s voice shouted and Maria pursed her lips. Mrs Glover had obviously been planning a lie-in. She knocked again and heard cursing as someone approached the door. The woman peered out at her blearyeyed and said, ‘Oh my Gawd, it’s you again. What do you want this time, eh?’

  Maria was more than aware of the rumours that circulated about Dora Glover. It was said that she was never short of male company – or a bob or two, if it came to that – and she wasn’t particularly fussy about who the males were either. Single men, married men, young men, old men . . . it made no difference to her so long as they had the means to pay. But Maria wasn’t concerned about the woman’s reputation at present. She had far more pressing things on her mind.

  ‘I er . . .’

  As Maria faltered, the woman went on, ‘After our Lennie, are yer? Well, you’ll ’ave yer work cut out to find ’im now! I don’t know what it were as yer said to ’im but within an hour o’ yer visit he’d packed his bags an’ scarpered like a cat wi’ its tail afire. Gone to sea, so he has, an’ I’ve no idea when – or if – I’ll see him again. Now sod off an’ leave a body in peace, can’t yer!’ And with that another door was slammed resoundingly in Maria’s face.

  She stood there feeling as if the bottom of the world had dropped out. Lennie had gone! He had left her to face her trouble alone. But what would happen to her now? She knew that her mother had already guessed at the plight she was in, but if her father was to find out, there would be blood on the moon.

  Tears trickled down her frozen cheeks as she stood there but she was so shocked that for a time she did not even realise that she was weeping. Eventually she turned and slowly made her way home. There was nowhere else for her to go.

  ‘Why, whatever brings you back so soon?’ Martha gasped when Maria staggered in some half an hour later.

  ‘Mrs Everitt is ill so she isn’t opening the shop today,’ Maria said in a small voice.

  Martha peeled her shawl from her daughter’s shoulders and after shaking the snow from it she threw it across the large wooden clothes-horse that stood in front of the fire. It instantly began to steam along with the other wet clothes that Martha had just washed as the woman pressed Maria down at the scrubbed oak table.

  ‘A good hot brew will do you a power of good,’ she commented as she bustled away. Seconds later she returned with a large brown earthenware teapot, and after pouring some into a cup she handed it to her daughter saying, ‘Now get that down you, lass.’ Wiping her wet hands down the front of her apron she then took a seat opposite and asked, ‘And what else is on your mind?’

  Maria knew full well what her mother was referring to but after the shock she had just had from Dora Glover she still wasn’t ready to confide.

  ‘The thing is . . . Mrs Everitt intimated that I might not be needed again, even when she is better.’

  ‘Oh.’ Disappointment clouded Martha’s face. ‘Then we’ll just have to find you some other form of employment, won’t we? If you’re fit enough to work, that is.’

  Again, Maria ignored the insinuation and shrugged, saying miserably, ‘Of course I’m fit enough.’ As she drained the cup of tea, however, she felt warmth begin to flow through her again.

  ‘Right, then go and get changed out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold,’ Martha ordered. ‘You can help me with all this washing today if you’ve a mind to. We’ll face tomorrow when it comes.’

  Without a word Maria rose and went to do as she was told. As Martha watched her go, she bit down on her lip. Oh, her lovely girl – what was to become of her? Turning about, she snatched up another pile of dirty washing and carrying it to the copper boiler that stood in the corner by the scullery she pushed it deep down into the hot soapy water with a pair of long wooden tongs.

  ‘So what is this then?’ Edward asked when he came in shortly before lunchtime. ‘Why aren’t you at your job, girl?’ He stamped the snow from his boots as Maria continued to lay the spoons and dishes on the table.

  ‘Mrs Everitt is ill,’ Martha answered for her, with a warning glance at her daughter. ‘But worse than that, it appears that she may have no further need of Maria even when she is recovered. It comes as no great surprise really. She has never made a secret of the fact that she begrudges having to pay someone to help her, has she?’

  ‘I see.’ Edward scowled as he sat down at the table and Martha instantly hurried away to fetch the pot of boiled bacon, barley and potatoes that was bubbling on the range and began to ladle a generous portion into his dish.

  ‘In that case I may have the solution,’ he said as he lifted his knife and fork. ‘I heard today that they are looking for a new worker up at Hatter’s Hall. Someone who will be prepared to live in.’

  ‘Oh, Edward! You surely would not consider sending our Maria to work in that place?’ Martha exclaimed in horror.

  ‘Why not? It’s good honest work and someone has to do it,’ he said. ‘We cannot afford for her to sit at home idle, woman. And the fact that she is the preacher’s daughter will go a long way to securing her the job.’

  Martha glanced at Maria but surprisingly the girl didn’t seem to be overly concerned at the suggestion. The way Maria saw it, if she had to live in, it would give her a little time to try and resolve the situation in which she found herself. If the worst came to the worst, she could always pay a visit to Mother Cox. The old woman, who lived in an isolated cottage on the outskirts of Ansley Common, was feared by most of the villagers and given a wide berth, but it was a well-known fact that some of her concoctions could rid women of unwanted pregnancies. The way things were going, Maria could see no other way out of her predicament.

  ‘I am not averse to working at the Hall,’ she stated now, although her stomach was doing somersaults at the very thought of it. ‘And as l
ong as I am allowed to come back and see everyone occasionally, I would be happy to live-in there.’

  Edward was pleased at her response. He had expected her to object like her mother. ‘In that case there is no time like the present. Jobs are hard to come by so you should take yourself off there and be interviewed before someone else snaps up the job position.’

  ‘But Edward, look at the weather,’ Martha said, gesturing towards the window. ‘It’s fit for neither man nor beast to be out in this. Surely she could go tomorrow?’

  ‘It’s all right, Mother,’ Maria assured her. ‘I shall be perfectly all right if I dress up warmly.’

  ‘But your boots are still sodden.’ Martha pointed towards where they were steaming on the hearth.

  ‘Then I shall wrap some rags around my feet before I put them on.’

  Ten minutes later, Maria was all bundled up and ready to leave although it was clear that Martha was not happy about it.

  ‘Now be sure to come straight back home,’ she fretted as she saw her daughter to the door.

  Maria nodded and set off. The walk to Hatter’s Hall took her twice as long as it normally would have, for the snow was growing deeper by the minute, but at last she reached the gates, and shielding her eyes, she peered through them.

  The old watchman shuffled out from his little wooden hut to ask, ‘Who goes there an’ what would yer be wantin’?’

  Maria gulped deep in her throat before answering. ‘I have come to apply for the position that is vacant.’

  ‘Hmm, yer’d best come in then.’ The old man unlocked the high gates and once Maria had slipped through them he waved his hand in the direction of the Hall. ‘Just foller the road an’ yer’ll come to it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Maria lifted her drab skirts and plodded on, amazed at how long the drive was. Thankfully it was treelined for most of the way so the snow wasn’t quite so deep here and she was able to move along more easily. When Hatter’s Hall finally came into view she paused to stare at it. She had heard many stories about it but had never actually seen it before, and now that she had she didn’t particularly like what she saw. It looked a dark, sinister place. She could see metal bars across the many windows, and here and there a spiral of smoke rose into the winter sky from the chimneys. The house was built of grey stone and all around it grew tall leafless trees, as if they were standing guard over it. Maria took a deep breath and ploughed on. She had not come this far to turn back now.