Down Weaver's Lane (17 page)

Eleanor Armistead made short work of the farewells. ‘Please show the men what you want to take with you today, Tibby. The farm cart will be here later for the rest of your things.’

Turning to Emmy she said in a cooler tone, ‘I shall be happy to furnish prospective employers with references about you, if you need them. Here is my address.’

She did not bother to enquire what exactly the girl was going to do now, which was a good thing because Emmy had decided to sleep on the floor of the empty house that night. The rent was paid until the end of the week, after all, and she still had to say goodbye to her mother. She would get a ride into Manchester with the carrier and go to the ladies at the Mission to ask their help in gaining a new position. If they could not help her, she’d go to a domestic employment agency. Mrs Tibby had told her about these places and had written out a reference for her which had brought tears to Emmy’s eyes, it said such lovely things about her. Well, it was easy to be loyal to a mistress as kind as hers.

After she had waved goodbye to Mrs Tibby, Emmy did not let herself weep any more. No use looking back, she told herself with a sniff. She had to make a new life for herself, but not, she was determined, a life like her mother’s. Never, ever that, even as a rich man’s mistress - something her mother seemed to think was desirable.

An image of Jack Staley swam before Emmy, but she banished it. She’d always known he could not marry her, for he had even heavier responsibilities than before since his sister and her child had come back to live with them. She’d seen Meg in the street carrying the baby, which was a pale, thin little thing, but pretty. Meg was thin, too, and looked sharp and bitter, though she might have been pretty once.

Emmy sighed. She would have liked to have a husband and family, too. She loved little children and often watched them as she walked in the town.

And she would miss her dear mistress sorely. The tears overflowed again, try as she might to hold them back, and the empty house echoed with her sobs.

The big farm cart arrived at eleven o‘clock and it did not take long for the two men to carry all Mrs Tibby’s furniture and possessions out, wedge them in place and lace up the canvas hood. Then the man driving it told the horses to ‘Walk on!’ and they left without a backward glance.

Feeling unsettled and with tears still threatening, Emmy walked aimlessly round the empty house, hating the emptiness of the rooms and the way her footsteps echoed on the bare boards. The roof timbers were creaking and groaning as if someone was moving about upstairs. Had those noises always been there? Why had she not noticed them before? It was quite chilly, but although there was some coal left, she had let the fire die down in case someone came to investigate the smoke when the house was supposed to be empty.

She decided to go and say goodbye to her mother. A brisk walk would warm her up. She wasn’t looking forward to the meeting because Madge always smelled of gin lately and her conversation was vague and disjointed. But Emmy had fond memories of the woman her mother had once been - feckless perhaps, but loving and able to make you laugh and enjoy life so much in the good times. It would not feel right to leave without a proper farewell.

She waited in an alley opposite the alehouse, which was just behind Market Place, wondering how to find out whether George was in or not. The last thing she wanted to do was bump into him in case he tried to stop her leaving. When a woman she had met while out walking with her mother came out of the alehouse, Emmy followed her to ask if Madge was in.

‘Yes, but she’s still a-bed. Eh, you don’t usually come visiting here, lass. Is summat wrong?’

‘No. Is George around?’

‘Nay, you’ve just missed him.’

‘That’s all right. It’s my mother I want to see, really. It’s just - easier without him around.’

The woman smiled. ‘I know what you mean. He always has to know everything, doesn’t he? But at least he looks after us girls. There are worse than him, far worse.’

Emmy went in by the kitchen door. One of the maids was yawning and complaining about a busy night, but stopped to ask who she was.

‘Oh, Madge’s girl. You’re older than I’d expected. Your mam isn’t awake yet. She was working late last night.’ She and the other kitchen maid exchanged glances and tittered.

‘You should tell her to keep off the gin,’ the older one said. ‘It rots your insides, gin does. Your mother’s in the first room on the right at the top of the stairs, love. Just go on up.’

Emmy went through the door at the back of the kitchen, hating the smell of stale beer, unwashed bodies and pipe smoke that came from the big public room. She did not feel at all comfortable here and resolved to keep her visit short. No one answered her knock, so after a moment’s hesitation she opened the door and peeped in.

Her mother was lying staring at the ceiling. When she saw Emmy she brightened and pushed herself into a sitting position. ‘George told you, then? You’ve agreed to do it?’ she asked eagerly.

‘I haven’t seen him. Agreed to what?’

Madge’s face fell. ‘He heard your mistress was leaving so he went to see you, to tell you about his plans. You must have just missed him. He’s had an offer of good money if he sets you up with this rich gent who’s seen you and wants you. And you’ll get money from the gent, too. That’s not like what I do. You’ll be safe, lovie, even when he tires of you, because George will look after you.’

‘I wouldn’t agree to do something like that. You know I wouldn’t.’

Madge’s face crumpled and she got out of bed, coming across to take hold of Emmy’s arm and give it little shakes to emphasise what she was saying. ‘Oh, lovie,
no!
It won’t be like what I do. You’ll be set up
proper
in your own house. You’ll have a maid, want for nothing. You
can’t
be stupid enough to turn down an offer like that.’

Emmy realised it wouldn’t take George long to walk down to Weavers Lane and back. ‘I just came to say goodbye to you, Mam. Mrs Tibby’s family have taken her to live with them, so I’m leaving Northby.’ She kissed her mother’s cheek, removed the hand that was still grasping her forearm and turned to leave.

‘Noooo!’ Madge wailed. ‘No, you can’t! He’ll throw me out if you leave. He was so pleased about it this morning. Emmy, no!’ She flung herself after her daughter and grabbed her, pulling her back. ‘Just stay and listen to what’s proposed.
Please
! If you love me, you’ll do it. You have to.’

Emmy tried to push her mother away, but Madge suddenly turned nasty and pulled her back by the hair, taking her by surprise. She knocked her daughter over and the two of them rolled to and fro on the floor with Emmy desperately trying to get away.

Suddenly someone hauled her mother off her and a voice said, ‘What the hell’s going on here? You know I don’t allow fighting.’

Emmy stared up at George, who had moved Madge roughly aside. Her heart sank at the gloating look in his eyes.

‘She was trying to leave,’ Madge explained. ‘So I stopped her.’

‘Well done, dear,’ he said, as if he were talking to a child. ‘I won’t forget that. You did right to keep her here.’

‘She wouldn’t even listen to what you were offering.’

‘She will now.’

Emmy scrambled to her feet and straightened her clothing. ‘I have to go. I’ve got someone waiting for me and -’

‘You’ve got no one waiting for you,’ he interrupted. ‘The cottage is empty, just like Mr Armistead said it would be.’

Emmy stilled.
Mr Armistead
?

‘He’s taken quite a fancy to you, that young gent has. I don’t blame him. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman and I’d bet my life you’re a virgin still.’

Emmy could not help blushing.

George chuckled, a nasty little sound. ‘If you weren’t I’d give you some training myself in pleasuring a man, but it’s worth too much, your maidenhead is. Armistead is willing to pay well for his pleasures, but this has to be kept quiet, him being about to wed Rishmore’s beanpole of a daughter. It wouldn’t do for them to find out he’s got a fancy piece on the side.’

Emmy spoke loudly before he could say anything else. ‘I hate Marcus Armistead and I’ll kill myself before I let him touch me!’

‘How can you hate him when you don’t even know him? He may be a short arse, but he’s a gentleman. Coming over this very evening, he is. Knows his aunt’s moving out and trusts me to make sure you’re available.’ He looked at her assessingly and shook his head at her stubborn expression, making a tutting sound under his breath. ‘I never thought you were stupid, girl. Here’s a big chance for all of us to make some good money - and afterwards, if you’ll put yourself in my hands, I’ll make sure you’re well paid for your favours. Not street corner stuff like your poor ma, but good linen sheets and silk clothes and gentlemen visitors only. You’ll be able to retire in comfort one day. I treat my girls decently. Ask any of ’em.’

Emmy looked him straight in the eye and said loudly, ‘I won’t do it.’ She had always hated what her mother did, couldn’t bear the thought of strange men pawing at her, doing
that
to her.

George laughed indulgently. ‘You will, you know. You can do it the easy way or you can fight me and get hurt, but you’ll still do it.’ He was holding her by the arm as easily as he would a naughty child. Grinning, he ran his other hand down her body.

Emmy tried to kick him, but it was like kicking a stone wall. Her mother stood to one side doing nothing. ‘Mother, help me!’ she begged. ‘Don’t let him do this to me!’

But Madge shook her head. ‘It’s for the best, lovie. You’ll see. The world’s a hard place if you don’t have someone to look after you.’

Emmy sobbed. She could not believe her own mother would do this to her. As she felt the hand around her arm slacken, she jerked away. She managed only two steps, but fought and kicked and scratched, when he restrained her again.

‘Ouch! Bloody hellion! Don’t just stand there, get some strips of cloth to tie her up,’ George shouted at Madge. ‘She’ll change her mind when she sees it’s nothing to be frightened of and how much money she’ll earn for one night’s work.’ They always did.

Emmy began to scream, making as much noise as she could, struggling so wildly she knocked over a chair and made George curse when she bit his hand.

He put one hand over her mouth. ‘Shut up, you fool!’ He gave her a shake. ‘Or I’ll have to gag you.’

She shut up but only because she wanted to be free to shout for help again when an opportunity arose.

He pressed her face down on the bed while he bound her hands and feet, then rolled her over and scowled down at her, hands on hips. ‘We’ll talk again when Mr Armistead’s finished with you. And don’t think you’ll get away from me.’

Emmy stared up at him, feeling helpless and terrified.

His voice became less harsh. ‘Ah, you’re making a fuss about nowt, Emmy lass. It might hurt a bit the first time, but it’ll soon be over an’ you’ll wonder why you got so het up.’ He stepped back from the bed and looked at Madge. ‘You’re not going to be silly about her, are you?’

‘No, George. You know I love you and I’ll always do what you want. Besides, it’s for her own good. It’ll set her up for life. But you will remember your promise, won’t you - only the best for my Emmy, only
gentlemen
visitors?’

‘Of course I will. Now, you keep an eye on the stupid bitch for me while I go and make the other arrangements.’ He cast a mocking glance towards Emmy as he added, ‘Gag her if she tries to scream. And do your best to talk some sense into her, Madge. Armistead will be here as soon as it’s dark.

‘Your ma’s right,’ he told Emmy. ‘Women need a man to protect ’em. If you have any sense at all in that pretty head of yours, you’ll think about pleasing him tonight, not angering him, then afterwards you’ll let me look after you properly.’ Trouble though she was he had rarely seen a lass as pretty as her.

Emmy waited till his footsteps had died away then looked at her mother. ‘How could you help him tie me up?’ she demanded, her voice breaking on the words.

Madge bowed her head for a minute, then looked at her and repeated, ‘I’m thinking of your future, lovie.’

‘But I don’t want a future like that.’

‘You’ll soon get used to it. It’s nothing really.’

‘Will you really gag me if I scream for help?’

Madge nodded. ‘I have to do as George says or I’ll lose everything.’

‘That man Marcus Armistead ... he’s horrible, Mother. Cruel. You can see it in his eyes. He makes my flesh crawl. I can’t bear the thought of him even touching me.’

Madge laughed scornfully. ‘Do you think I like
any
of ’em touching me? Well, I don’t. I hate it. But men need it, can’t do without it - and if I’d had someone like George looking after my interests when I was young and pretty like you are, I’d be safe now.’ She sighed at the thought. ‘Well, it’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you. And if
you
have money, you’ll not let me starve, I know, because you’re a kind girl.’ Madge had been worrying for a while about what would happen when she was too old to attract a customer. Going across to a shelf she got down a bottle, pouring herself a glass of gin but never taking her eyes off her daughter.