Chaff upon the Wind (24 page)

Kitty put her head on one side. ‘What are you talking about, Mrs G.? Brought what back?’

Mrs Grundy flapped her hand. ‘Oh never you mind. I’ve said too much already. I’m lettin’ me mouth run away with itself and saying things I shouldn’t, ’cos
I’m that upset. Forget I ever said owt.’

Kitty said no more, but she would not forget. And in that moment she realized something else too. Through the long years that stretched ahead, never for one second must she let her ‘mouth
run away with itself’.

‘Well then,’ she said, picking up the plaited rush cradle her mother had found for her, ‘I’d best go and introduce Jack Thorndyke to his son.’

Leaving the kitchen, she went out into the back yard, up the steps and walked the full length of the path through the garden. Near the door in the wall at the end she paused and looked back at
the house. In the first-floor window of Master Edward’s room, she saw the shadow of a person standing, not close to the glass, but a little way back, as if not wanting to be seen and yet
unable to stop himself watching. She was tempted to wave, yet did not. Mrs Grundy had left her in no doubt that her friendship with Master Edward must now be at an end, disgraced as she was. Kitty
sighed heavily. The thought that she would never be allowed to sit and talk to the lonely young boy actually hurt her. She really liked Master Edward – Teddy. As she remembered the nickname
he had insisted she call him when they were alone together, a wistful smile played on her mouth and tears prickled her eyelids.

Then, resolutely, she turned her back on the house and opened the garden door leading into the stackyard beyond.

‘And what have we got here then?’ Jack bent over the tiny bundle wrapped in a shawl against the autumn wind and touched the baby’s cheek with his rough
fingertip. ‘Yours, is it, Kitty Clegg?’

Neatly avoiding answering his question directly, she said softly, ‘He’s your son, Jack Thorndyke.’

Jack straightened up and looked down into her face. ‘Oh aye?’ he said guardedly. There was a pause before he added harshly, ‘Think I ain’t had that one thrown at me afore
now, young Kitty?’

The girl gasped and her eyes widened. ‘But he is, Jack. He is your son. Why, he even looks like you. See . . .’ She pulled open the shawl and the baby screwed up his tiny features,
opened his mouth and bawled, resentful at his cosy nest in the cradle being disturbed. ‘See his black hair and his nose. He’s got your nose, Jack. You can’t deny that.
You’ve got to believe me. He is yours.’

The huge shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘I aren’t saying he isn’t. But if you think you’re going to tether me to you ’cos of a bairn, you’ve got another think
coming.’

‘But we could be a family, Jack. I’d look after you. You and the baby. I’ll do anything you want, if you’ll only—’

‘I aren’t the marrying kind, Kitty. I’ve told you that afore.’

‘But don’t you want to give your son a name? Surely you don’t want him to grow up a – a . . .’ She hesitated and Jack threw back his head in a loud guffaw as she
shrank from saying the word.

‘ . . . a bastard. Can’t bring yourself to say it, eh Kitty?’ He bent his dark head towards her, thrusting his face close to hers. ‘Well, you ain’t catching me with
that one ’cos you’re not the first to try it and,’ he added cruelly, ‘you probably won’t be the last.’

‘Jack . . .’ Kitty almost sobbed in her frustration and was on the point of dropping to her knees, of begging him, but some spark of pride deep within her flared and shone brightly.
Instead she raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.

‘Very well, Jack Thorndyke, if that’s all you have to say, I’ll be on me way. We’ll manage on our own. Me and
your son
. Though where we’re to sleep tonight,
I don’t know, ’cos me own dad’s turned me out.’

‘Now, now, young Kitty, hang on a minute. Don’t go getting all uppity on me. I haven’t said I won’t stand by you, only that I won’t
marry
you. I won’t
marry anyone, Kitty. I’ve always told you that. You can’t deny it.’

Kitty’s lower lip threatened to tremble. No, she couldn’t deny it. That was exactly what he had always said. But carried away by her own overwhelming passion for him, she had not
believed him. Like countless young girls blinded by love, she had thought she could change him.

In that moment, as she stared into Jack’s undeniably handsome face, Kitty Clegg grew up. He would not change – not for her, not for anyone. She could either take what he offered
– whatever that was – or turn her back on him, walk away and make her life without him.

‘Jack . . .’ she tried, just once more. She stepped forward and held out the child towards him. ‘Would you like to hold your son – just for a moment?’

He took the little bundle into his great arms and bent his head, looking down into the tiny features nestling in the shawl. The baby screwed up his face, wriggling and stretching.

‘Strong, ain’t he, for such a little chap?’

‘Yes, yes, he is,’ Kitty said eagerly, desperate to hear a change of heart, a slight weakness in his resolve. ‘He’s a fine, healthy boy. A son to be proud of,
Jack.’

With a sudden movement he thrust the bundle back into her arms and stepped away. ‘Now then, none of your woman’s wheedling, Kitty Clegg. I’ve work to do.’ He turned and
strode away from her.

Though she called again, ‘Jack. Jack . . .’ he did not look back.

‘I’ve got to see the mistress.’

Mrs Grundy straightened up from where she had been bending over the range and turned to face Kitty, standing once more in the kitchen of the Manor House. Setting the cradle on the table, Kitty
moved towards the door leading to the upper part of the house.

‘By heck, girl, you’ve got a cheek and no mistake.’ The cook’s face was bright red, though whether from bending over the heat, or from anger and embarrassment caused by
her former kitchen maid, even she could not have said. ‘And why do you think the mistress will want to concern herself with the likes of you?’ She paused and added, pointedly,
‘Now?’

Kitty thrust her chin out determinedly. ‘She will. That’s all.’

‘Well, she ain’t here. She’s gone to visit Sir Ralph.’ Mrs Grundy nodded her head knowingly and the smirk on her mouth held a look of triumph. ‘There’ll be a
wedding afore long, if I’m not much mistaken. At least Miss Miriam does things properly. But then, she’s a lady.’

Kitty stared at the cook and realized in that moment the enormity of her rash decision to take Miriam’s child as her own. She, Kitty Clegg, was now the outcast, while Miriam sailed on
blithely deceiving everyone.

Through clenched teeth, Kitty said, ‘Then I’ll see Miss Miriam.’

‘Oh no, you won’t . . .’ Mrs Grundy began, but before the stout cook could make a move towards her, Kitty had whirled about and was through the door and down the three steps
into the hall. There she hesitated, poised on her toes, listening. She had no wish to run into the master, and yet at this moment she would face even him. This family had a duty to help her, she
told herself.

Then she was running up the twisting stairs towards Miss Miriam’s bedroom. She rapped on the door and, without waiting for a reply, flung it open and marched into the room.

Miriam was sitting at the dressing table, brushing her hair and still in her nightgown although the morning was half over.

‘What on earth . . .?’ she began, obviously startled by Kitty’s sudden appearance. But her surprise was soon replaced by anger. ‘What are you doing here? How dare you
burst into my room like this?’ The girl turned from the mirror and stood up. ‘You have no right even to be in this house. Get out.’

Kitty stood her ground. ‘I wanted to see your mother, but she’s not here.’

‘No,’ the girl smiled and smoothed her long hair. ‘No. She’s gone to see my future father-in-law to discuss the terms of the marriage settlement.’ The smile became
smug. ‘After Christmas, we shall go to London. I’m to have a Season next year, be presented at court and then my engagement to Guy Harding will be announced.’ Miriam tilted her
head to one side and her eyes glittered with malice as she said, ‘You could have been a part of all that, Kitty, as my personal maid. You could have come to London with me. Oh I’m going
to have such a wonderful time and you could have been there too, if . . .’ she paused with deliberate intention, ‘if you hadn’t been so foolish as to get yourself pregnant by Jack
Thorndyke.’

Kitty gasped and knew she turned pale. She felt suddenly dizzy and swayed slightly. So that was it. Miriam intended to play the part to the hilt, even pretending that Kitty had really given
birth to Jack Thorndyke’s son. She was going to deny her own involvement completely.

‘But I need your help.’

‘Help? From me? Why should I help a maid who has brought shame on herself and all of us?’

Kitty, recovering swiftly from the shock, said, ‘Your mother would help me, if she were here. She promised.’

Miriam moved closer, thrusting her face close to Kitty’s. ‘And you made certain promises too. Promises you’re breaking already. You shouldn’t even be here.’

‘Jack won’t marry me,’ Kitty blurted out.

Miriam’s smirk broadened. ‘I never thought for one moment that he would,’ she drawled. ‘You’re a fool, Kitty Clegg, if you harboured such hopes.’ She turned
away and sat at the dressing table once more, picked up the hairbrush and began to brush her hair with long, languid strokes.

‘Of course,’ she drawled, her glance catching and holding Kitty’s gaze in the mirror, ‘I don’t know the man concerned, but I can imagine that his sort cannot be
relied upon.’

Kitty could not believe what she was hearing. Miriam was playing her part so well that it seemed she believed she had never lain with Jack Thorndyke, had not borne his child. Now, she was
denying even knowing him.

Kitty’s mouth tightened. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it?’ She added grimly, ‘Well, so be it then. I’ll not look to you or your family for any
help. I’ll grant you one thing though, Miss Miriam. You’re a good actress. You should go on the stage.’

Kitty spun around and pulled open the door.

‘Oh Kitty,’ Miriam said and the girl paused momentarily in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder.

‘What?’ she said curtly, without any of the deference she had once shown her young mistress.

‘If you’ve nowhere to go,’ Miriam drawled, ‘I believe there’s a place called the workhouse that takes in the homeless of the parish, including fallen
women.’

Kitty stared at the beautiful face in the mirror and wondered how such loveliness could be so spiteful, almost to the point of wickedness.

‘I wish you joy, Miss Miriam. I just hope Mr Guy knows what he’s taking on.’

As she began to turn away, she saw Miriam swivel on the stool, saw her raise her arm and heard her screech of rage. Before she could duck, the hairbrush came flying through the air to hit Kitty
smartly on the forehead. The pain jolted her and she reached up to touch her head, expecting to feel the stickiness of blood, but instead she found the tenderness of a bruise that would swell very
quickly. Slowly she reached down and picked up the brush and then, taking deliberate aim, she flung it towards the startled Miriam. Her aim was poor and the brush flew past Miriam’s head and
hit the mirror behind it, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces and making such a noise that surely the whole household must hear.

‘Temper, temper, Kitty,’ Miriam mocked. ‘Now you’ve brought seven years’ bad luck on yourself.’

‘My bad luck started the day I got mesen tangled up with you, miss.’

Miriam shook her head. ‘Oh no, Kitty Clegg, your bad luck began when you got tangled up with Jack Thorndyke. He’s
your
bad luck.’ Her emphasis on the word
‘your’ did not go unnoticed by Kitty. Miriam was cleverly passing the whole burden of guilt – her own guilt – on to Kitty, and she, foolish girl that she was and rendered
helpless by her love for Jack and now the baby too, was taking it on to her own shoulders.

There was nothing left to say between them, nothing that could be said, so Kitty turned away, sick at heart. Quietly, in the silence that followed the tumult, she closed the door with the
feeling of finality lying heavy in her breast.

She was moving away towards the stairs, when she heard her name called softly. She half-turned to see Master Edward’s face peering round his bedroom door. He beckoned her and when she
hesitated, he hissed, ‘Kitty, come here. Just a moment.’

Glancing back towards Miriam’s door, Kitty bit her lip but then, thinking that she had little else to lose now, moved towards him and slipped into the room. Softly Edward closed the door
and they stood staring at each other.

Despite her own problems, Kitty smiled at him. ‘Why, Master Edward, I do believe you’ve grown. You’re taller than me now.’ And, as she took in the fact that he was fully
dressed, added, ‘And you’re up and about. I do hope that means you’re better.’

The boy – a young man now for in three months’ time, in January, he would reach his sixteenth birthday – smiled at her. She noticed that he had put on a little weight, that his
fair hair shone with health and his eyes sparkled with vitality. Gone, too, was the pallid complexion of an invalid. ‘I’m much better than I used to be, Kitty,’ he was saying.
‘I still get asthma attacks, but they’re not so severe. I’m even going away to boarding school now. I started at the beginning of September and I’m going back tomorrow.
I’ve just been home for the weekend.’

‘Really? And do you like it?’

‘It’s great. Forget all those horror stories you hear about boarding school. I’ve made friends with several other chaps, two especially . . .’ He stopped suddenly as his
gaze roamed over her face and he registered the bruise now swelling on her forehead.

‘Oh Kitty, did my sister do that? I heard the commotion.’

Kitty put her fingers up to touch the lump and winced. ‘Yes, I didn’t duck quick enough.’

‘Come, let me bathe it for you.’ He touched her arm and, although she protested, Edward drew her across the room towards the washstand and made her stand meekly while he wetted the
corner of a towel with cold water and held it on the bruise.