Chaff upon the Wind (25 page)

With his face solemn now and so close to hers, he said, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your trouble, Kitty. If there’s anything I can do . . .’

Anger welled within her and Kitty felt a sharp retort spring to her lips. She was about to say, Oh yes, Master Edward, your family are great at making offers of help and fine promises, but when
it comes to carrying them out then it’s quite another story, but she held her tongue. This boy, probably more than any other member of the Franklin family, even Mrs Franklin, would, she knew,
always keep his word. So close to him, she looked into his eyes and read there his concern for her and his sadness. And there was something else too. Was it disappointment? Disappointment that she
had so disgraced herself by bearing an illegitimate child.

With a shock, Kitty realized that Edward Franklin’s disappointment in her hurt more deeply than either Mrs Grundy’s or even her own family’s rejection.

She let her glance fall away from his steady gaze and stammered. ‘I-it’s very kind of you, Master Edward, but I’ll manage. I’ll be all right.’

‘It’s Teddy when we’re alone, Kitty Clegg,’ he reminded her gently. ‘Have you forgotten?’

He paused until she whispered, ‘No, no, I hadn’t forgotten. But – but things are very different now.’

Of all the people in the world, she wanted to confide in him, wanted him to know the truth. But she could not break her solemn promise. She would never break the promises she had made, no matter
what others did.

Softly, he was asking, ‘Won’t the – the father – marry you?’

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Edward’s voice was low and shaking with anger. ‘Threshing Jack?’

Miserably, Kitty nodded. If only, she thought, I could tell him the truth. But how could she? Not only had she made a faithful promise, but she would be shattering the boy’s illusions
about his own sister, whom she knew he loved dearly and admired for her strength. How could she hurt and disillusion Edward in such a way? So Kitty held her tongue, but it was with a heavy heart
that she left his room and went back downstairs to the kitchen.

Only when she picked up the cradle and gently opened the shawl to look upon the face of the sleeping child, did determination flood through her again. When she held the baby in her arms, all her
doubts and fears vanished. Whatever the future held for them both, she had not one moment’s regret when she held the child close and nuzzled her cheek against his dark, downy head.

‘But you’ll not get away so easily, Jack Thorndyke,’ she vowed. ‘Not from me and your son, you won’t.’

‘You can feed him, Kitty, I’ll not be that cruel to the little chap, but then you must be on your way.’

Mrs Grundy watched as Kitty went through the performance of bottle, teats and warmed milk again.

‘Can’t you feed him yarsen, lass? It’d have been a lot less bother, wouldn’t it?’

‘No, I couldn’t.’ Desperately, Kitty searched her mind for a reasonable excuse. ‘I hadn’t enough milk.’ She hid a wry smile thinking how very true that was
and remembering also how appalled she had been to see Miriam’s ripe and overflowing breasts and yet the girl had still refused to suckle her child.

She heard Mrs Grundy’s sniff of disapproval. ‘’Spect you didn’t try hard enough. It teks time and patience and you never did have much of that.’

Kitty was tempted to retort, ‘How would you know?’ but she held her tongue. Further argument might lead her into saying far too much.

It was as she was finishing feeding the baby that they heard the sound of the front door being opened and voices in the hall.

‘That’s the mistress back and it sounds like the master’s with her. You’d best be on your way, Kitty. Go out the back way, will ya?’

Kitty laid the baby in the cradle and packed the feeding equipment into her bag. Then she faced Mrs Grundy again. ‘I’ll see the mistress, now she’s back.’

‘Oh no, you won’t, Kitty Clegg. You’ve caused enough trouble here this morning. I ’eard all that ruckus upstairs.’

But once more, Kitty was through the door into the hall and up the stairs towards Mrs Franklin’s sitting room. When she knocked on the door, the bark that bade her enter was unmistakably
the voice of Mr Franklin. Kitty took a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Standing with his back to the fire, the master glared at her. ‘What the devil do you want? I thought you’d been dismissed. Come to beg for reinstatement, eh? Well, my wife must have
had a good reason to dispense with your services, so you’d best be on your way.’ He paused and then shook his head. ‘I’m disappointed in you. Very disappointed. I’d
have thought better of you, of all people. Got yourself into trouble, I’ll be bound. But if that is the case, I’ll not have you in this house, not anywhere near
my
daughter.’

Kitty was sorely tempted to blurt out the truth. Instead she said calmly, ‘I need to see the mistress, sir. She’s been very kind to me. She understands.’

He gave a grunt of annoyance. ‘Huh, a soft touch is my dear wife. A pushover for all the waifs and strays and fallen women of the town. But I won’t have it.’ He took a step
towards her and raised his arm, pointing at the door. ‘Get out, girl. Go.’

It was like a scene out of a play she had once seen at the theatre. She almost expected him to add the words, ‘And never darken my doorstep again.’

Kitty held her ground and stared back at him, standing very quiet and still. He let his arm fall to his side and he shook his head. ‘You’ve got courage, girl. I’ll give you
that. But then . . .’ He was turning away from her now and moving back to take up his former stance in front of the blazing fire. ‘I suppose,’ he turned to look at her again,
‘you’re like your mother. She had courage . . .’ His voice dropped. ‘A splendid courage, far more than I ever possessed.’ The words were spoken so softly now, more to
himself than to her. Kitty said, ‘I beg your pardon, sir. You know my mother?’

‘Eh? What? Oh – er, well yes, a long time ago. She worked in this house, you know. Of course I knew her.’ This much Kitty knew, but surely the son of the house would not have
known a maid
that
well. There was a defensive note in Mr Franklin’s voice as he recovered his composure. ‘Is that what this is all about? A little bit of blackmail, eh? Even
after all this time.’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I really don’t understand what you mean, sir.’ She opened her mouth to say more, to ask questions, but at that moment the communicating door, which led
directly into Mrs Franklin’s bedroom from her sitting room, opened and she came into the room.

Kitty saw at once that the woman was startled to see her there. Mrs Franklin’s anxious glance went immediately to her husband and then back to Kitty.

Before she could speak, Mr Franklin’s voice boomed again. ‘The girl’s come to try a little bit of blackmail. Be damned if I’ll give her a penny piece and I’ll be
obliged if you’d take the same attitude, Amelia.’

Mrs Franklin’s eyes widened and her hand fluttered to her mouth. ‘Oh Kitty, no, you haven’t—’

Before Mrs Franklin could say anything further, could say something that would let out the secret, Kitty put out her hand towards her and said urgently, ‘No, madam, I haven’t. The
master’s misunderstood me. He thinks it’s because me mam used to work here.’

She noticed the glance that passed at once between husband and wife and the sudden tightening of Mrs Franklin’s lips, and yet at the same time there was relief in her eyes. She seemed to
understand at once, yet Kitty herself was still mystified.

‘I only wanted to see you, madam,’ Kitty said in a small voice. ‘That’s all. I’m not trying to cause trouble,’ and she added pointedly, knowing that her
mistress would understand, ‘not for
anyone
.’

‘No, no.’ Mrs Franklin moved to her side, patted her arm and said in a low tone, ‘I know you wouldn’t do that.’ And in a whisper added, ‘I trust you, Kitty. I
know I – we – can rely on you.’

‘Eh? What’s that? What are you whispering about? Send the girl packing, Amelia. I won’t have her dredging up the past and . . .’

Mrs Franklin turned and moved across the room to sit on her sofa. ‘She’s doing nothing of the sort, Henry. She knows nothing about any of that. She has enough problems of her own and
that is what this is about.’

‘Eh? What?’ His startled glance went from one to the other. ‘Oh, have I got it wrong?’

‘More than likely,’ Mrs Franklin said drily. ‘So, if you’d be kind enough to leave me with the girl, I will sort it out.’

His manner seemed to change suddenly, to soften almost, Kitty thought. His eyes went from her to his wife and back again. ‘What problems? Your family? Something wrong in your family. Your
mother . . .?’

‘Henry . . .’ Now there was a warning note in his wife’s voice and her clear eyes caught and held his gaze. ‘I will talk to you later.’

To Kitty’s surprise, Mr Franklin’s glance fell away and he muttered, ‘Oh very well then.’ He marched past Kitty and out of the room, slamming the door behind him so
violently that the delicate china in Mrs Franklin’s glass cabinet gave a shiver of fear.

‘Come and sit down, my dear.’ When Kitty did so, Mrs Franklin continued. ‘Now, I don’t mean to be harsh and I’ll do what I can to help you this time, but it really
would be better if you did not come here again. As you can see, your presence can soon make things very – well – awkward. Questions start to be asked and so on.’

‘What did he mean about me trying to blackmail you?’

Mrs Franklin dismissed her question with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh never mind all that. It has nothing to do with you or with our present problems.’ She lowered her voice.
‘Kitty, I have some money here for you. Five pounds, but that is all I can do for you, I’m afraid. I – I dare not do more.’

‘That’s very generous, madam. I didn’t expect that.’

‘I know you didn’t.’ There was a pause before she added, a little uncertainty creeping into her tone, ‘Is everything all right? You haven’t any regrets about taking
. . .’ Her voice faltered and died away.

‘No, madam.’ Kitty’s face shone as she spoke of the baby boy. ‘I love him dearly, every bit as much as if – well, you know.’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Franklin’s voice was a whisper. ‘I do know.’ She paused then asked, ‘And – and the child’s father. Will he marry you?’

Kitty’s eyes flashed. ‘He ses not, but I aren’t finished with him yet.’

A small smile played at the corner of Mrs Franklin’s mouth, but the sadness did not leave her eyes. ‘But your family will stand by you, won’t they?’

Kitty’s glance dropped and she plucked nervously at her skirt with fingers that trembled slightly. Their reaction, more than anything else, had been a shock to her. If she were honest,
Jack’s response had not been entirely unexpected, but her father’s outrage had stunned her. She had fully expected their anger and disappointment, but the thought that her own father
would cast her off had never once entered her head.

She shook her head. ‘No, madam. I don’t think they will. At least, me dad won’t.’

‘I’m sorry, Kitty, I don’t know what else I can do.’

‘I’ll manage now, madam, with the money. It’s very good of you.’

‘I wish it could be more.’

At least, Kitty thought, Mrs Franklin is not forgetting her promise as quickly as her daughter has done.

Now there was a quaver in the woman’s voice as she asked, ‘And how – is my grandson?’

Dusk was closing in when Kitty stepped out of the back door of the Manor House and it was shut firmly behind her by Mrs Grundy. She sighed. She hated deceiving Mrs Grundy, yet
she had made her promise and she must keep it. And besides, deep in her heart, she rather feared that even if Mrs Grundy did know the whole truth, the cook would still view what she had done as
even more foolish than becoming pregnant by the man she loved.

Kitty hitched the baby up and planted a swift kiss on the tiny forehead. ‘I don’t care, my little man, as long as I have you.’ She sighed. I really must decide on a name, she
thought, but I did so want Jack to have a say in the naming of his son.

Jack. She lifted her head and listened, but the deepening dusk was silent. No sound was coming from the stackyard beyond the garden wall. And now, a light drizzle was beginning to fall.

Coming to a decision, Kitty walked purposefully down the garden path to the wall at the end and through the door into the stackyard. Maybe Jack was still there, cleaning and polishing his
beloved
Sylvie
. But the yard was deserted of workmen, the huge engine silent and only the wind scurried along the ground blowing bits of straw in little flurries. Kitty sighed. She would
wait a while to see if he came back. The baby, sleeping peacefully, was warmly wrapped and would take no harm even in the cold night air. She lifted him out of the cradle and nestled him inside her
cloak, close to her breast so that the warmth of her body would keep him warm too. Then she burrowed a nest for them both in the side of a straw stack. The child stirred at the movement but as she
settled herself, Kitty began to croon a lullaby to him and soon he was asleep again.

Kitty dozed fitfully, waking every few minutes to listen for any sound that meant Jack was returning to the yard, but only night sounds filled the air. The baby slept on and soon Kitty, too,
fell into a deeper sleep.

She awoke with a start to feel the child stirring in her arms and whimpering. The night was pitch black now and the rain was falling heavily, soaking through the straw to reach them. Kitty was
stiff with cold and at once concerned that the baby, too, must be chilled. He must be hungry too and not for the first time Kitty bemoaned the fact that she could not feed him from her own
breast.

She could not stay here. She certainly dare not knock upon the back door of the Manor again. There was only one thing she could do; walk the mile through the darkness and the rain to her
parents’ house at the station. Surely even her father would not turn her out again into the night. Surely even he, in his anger, could not do that to a tiny baby.