Down Weaver's Lane (27 page)

The mere thought of taking action made her feel better than she had since her arrival here.

 

Emmy found it hard at first to believe the spiteful tricks the three Butterfield women played on her. They had soon convinced Isaac she was lazy and stupid, good for nothing, the true daughter of her feckless mother, though sometimes she thought she saw a look of embarrassment in Dinah’s eyes and certainly her younger cousin did not play such nasty tricks on her as Lal.

The only time Emmy was allowed out of the house was when she went on errands for her aunt, and she was not entrusted with money, simply told where to go and what to ask for. The goods were then charged to the Butterfields’ account.

As she was coming back from the nearby farm from which her aunt bought eggs, she stopped in the lane to stare across the gardens between her and the rear of the Butterfields’ house. Tears came into her eyes at the thought of re-entering it. Lal and her mother had been particularly unkind to her that morning. How she was to endure it for much longer she did not know.

A young man turned the corner, whistling, and she saw it was Jack, so turned her head quickly to hide the tears.

‘Don’t you speak to old friends now, Emmy?’ he asked in such a gentle tone that it drew a sob from her. ‘What’s wrong?’

When she turned to face him she felt a tear trickle down her cheek, then another.

He said simply, ‘Tell me!’ and she poured out the tale of what her life was like now. The only self-control she exerted was to speak in a low voice and keep her distance from him. She longed for him to take her in his arms, to hold and comfort her as he had done on that dreadful night, but he was as far beyond her reach as he had always been. Further. For her aunt would not allow her to have friends of any sort, she was sure.

Jack stood there aghast at her unhappiness, knowing he must not touch her because someone might walk past and then her reputation would be blackened. ‘Is there nothing you can do about it?’

She shook her head. ‘Mr Rishmore wishes me to live with my mother’s family.’ She was thinking of running away, only how to smuggle her few possessions out of the house and get away without being recaptured were puzzles she had yet to solve.

He made a bitter sound in his throat. ‘Mr Rishmore thinks he runs everyone’s life.’ After a moment’s thought he added, ‘Your uncle’s quite kind, though.’

‘Kind? He does nothing to help
me!’

‘Maybe he doesn’t understand what it’s like for you.’

‘Or doesn’t care!’ The church clock struck the half-hour and she took a shaky breath. ‘I’d better go or she’ll say I’ve taken too long and slap me again.’

Back at the mill Jack finished his next task and went to return the ledger to Mr Butterfield’s office, saying casually, ‘Could I ask how Emmy is, sir?’

‘My niece?’

‘Yes. I thought last time I saw her she was looking unhappy. She must be missing the old lady very much.’

‘She has reason to look unhappy. She is a lazy young madam, and I should be grateful if you would stay away from her.’ The constant anxiety that Emmy would do as his wife feared and fall into sinful ways, bringing down Mr Rishmore’s wrath on the Butterfields’ heads, made Isaac add, ‘The last thing we want is for her to become interested in young men.’

Jack drew himself up. ‘As you know, I can’t even consider young women in that way, sir, and I think you do Emmy an injustice in comparing her to her mother. She was always very hard-working and behaved decently when she worked for Mrs Oswald, though she had plenty of freedom to do otherwise if she’d chosen. And she was running
away
from immorality when I found her and took her to Parson Bradley, so I don’t know why you should be worrying about her in that way.’

‘I can only repeat, her happiness is not your concern and I would be grateful if you would stay away from her.’

But Isaac found this conversation disturbing because he had been so busy at work that he realised he had not paid his niece much attention.

Jack went back to his work, unsure whether he’d done any good mentioning Emmy or made things worse for her. After further thought he decided to speak to Parson Bradley about her as well. And if neither of them would do something, then he must!

 

That evening Isaac studied his niece as she served them their meal then went off to eat hers in the kitchen, something that still made him feel guilty. Jack was right, she did look unhappy. And was that not a bruise on her cheek? When she returned to clear away the soup bowls, he noticed another on her arm. Yet she didn’t seem clumsy, and in fact had his sister’s graceful way of moving.

Even as he watched he was shocked to see Lal stick her foot out, trying to trip her cousin. But Emmy avoided it as if she’d been expecting something like that. When she’d gone back to the kitchen, he frowned at his daughter. ‘Why did you do that, Lal?’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Do what?’

‘Try to trip Emmy.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘I saw you do it.’

‘It was an accident.’

He thumped the table, indignant that she should look him in the face and lie like that. ‘Go to your room this minute! I will not have a daughter of mine lying to me! And if I see such spiteful behaviour towards your cousin again, I shall punish you severely.’

His wife waited until Dinah too had gone up to her room after the meal before saying reproachfully, ‘I didn’t think to hear you taking your niece’s side against your own daughter, Isaac.’

He hesitated. It was usually wisest not to anger Lena. But once again he remembered the unhappiness in every line of his niece’s body, the unhappiness that a stranger had had to point out to him before he’d noticed it. ‘Lal was behaving badly, my dear. What sort of person would play such tricks on another? But what annoyed me most of all was that my own daughter would lie to me and
that
is why I sent her to her room. And how did Emmy get those bruises, pray? I would not like to think she was being ill treated here.’

‘I slapped her face for impudence today,’ his wife said complacently.

‘What did she say to make you do that?’

‘What does it matter what she said? Do you not believe me? Is that girl more important to you than your own wife and daughter now?’

Her voice was dangerously close to hysteria and her emotions had been very uncertain lately, so he said nothing more. But he lay awake for a long time in his lonely bedroom worrying, determined to keep a more watchful eye on his family’s behaviour towards his niece from now on. While he did not wish to give his sister’s daughter any opportunity to misbehave, he did not like to think of her being bullied or slapped so hard for what could only be minor offences. He was glad he no longer shared a room with his wife. He wished he didn’t have to share a house with her, either.

 

Two days after the Rishmores’ visit to Moor Grange, a note was brought across inviting the Armistead ladies to call upon the Rishmore ladies to discuss wedding details.

‘I’m sure you won’t want to come, Matilda,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’ll give them your apologies.’

Tibby saw this as another opportunity to make a stand. ‘I’d love to come, actually. I’m feeling so much better that I’m finding the days dragging a little. And I’ve been thinking I’d like to get out and about a bit. Would there be any objection to my going out for rides in the carnage - when it isn’t needed, of course?’ She waited with pounding heart for a curt refusal or a scornful remark, for Eleanor didn’t mince her words when she was angry with her menfolk.

‘There is usually a vehicle of some sort free. I’m pleased you feel able to get out more.’ Eleanor paused then added with another frown, ‘You’re not a prisoner here, you know, Matilda. Surely we haven’t made you feel like that?’

She gathered her courage together. ‘I have felt a bit confined, I’m afraid. This house is so isolated and - well, I miss having my own place more than I’d expected.’ She blinked her eyes rapidly to dispel the moisture. ‘There is something about running a home and garden, even a humble one, that fills the hours nicely and offers many small pleasures. If I’d had only a very little more money, I don’t think I’d have grown so worn down. And I miss my maid as well. Dearest Emmy was such a comfort to me.’

After thinking this over for a moment or two, Eleanor said slowly, ‘If you like, after the wedding I’ll see if I can persuade Claude to find you somewhere else to live. Maybe a little house in Northby - or Rochdale perhaps?’ After all, it wouldn’t cost much and it’d save them the embarrassment of not quite knowing what to do with Claude’s sister whenever they had guests. And although her husband wouldn’t care whether Matilda was unhappy or not, Eleanor found she did.

Tibby stared at her, hands clasped at her chest, eyes brimming with tears. ‘Do you really mean that? I’d so love to live in Northby again!’

‘Of course I mean it. But first we must get Marcus wed. Maybe then he will not be so - troublesome.’ Eleanor’s expression became closed again and she changed the subject firmly to the arrangements for their coming visit to the Rishmores.

 

Parson Bradley frowned at Jack who had come up to speak to him after the Sunday classes had finished. ‘Are you sure of this? I mean, sure Emmy is not exaggerating?’ He found it hard to believe that respected members of his congregation like the Butterfields would engage in active cruelty towards their orphaned niece. Though, on the other hand, Lal was not a very likeable young woman and he’d noticed she didn’t seem to have any friends and was only ever seen with her sister.

‘I’m pretty sure of it, sir. Emmy was crying when I saw her and she had a bruise on her cheek. I think they’re ill treating her.’

‘I’ll speak to my wife. She may be able to help.’ But Gerald Bradley wasn’t sure whether they dared do much. Samuel Rishmore had made his wishes very plain. The girl was to live quietly with her family and be trained in decent ways. It didn’t do to cross the mill owner when he was hell-bent on dispensing charity.

When Gerald confided in his wife, Prudence looked at him in dismay. ‘I was afraid of this!’

‘You mean, you knew about it?’

‘I guessed it might happen. Mrs Butterfield was furious that the girl had to live with them. She’s told all her friends that Emmy is beyond redemption and she fears the worst. Someone asked me only the other day if I’d found the girl lazy, but I soon set them straight about that.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll go and call on Mrs Butterfield, but I don’t hold out much hope of being able to do anything. I doubt that woman will listen to anything I say.’

In fact, the visit was very short and within minutes Lena was bristling with indignation. ‘The girl is bone idle, and she’s a liar too if she’s complained about us!’

‘She hasn’t said a word to us.’

‘Then why are you questioning me about her like this?’

‘Because I can’t help noticing how unhappy she looks when she comes to church and I hear others say you’re not satisfied with her work. Yet I remember how cheerfully and willingly she worked in my house.’

‘She was trying to impress you, no doubt. But we have had the dubious pleasure of her living with us for several weeks now and I assure you we have found her seriously lacking in skills, manners
and
moral fibre.’

Prudence looked at her, certain now Mrs Butterfield was telling lies. Emmy’s household skills were excellent, and no one could completely change character in so short a time. ‘I’ll be happy to take her back, then, if you’re dissatisfied with her.’

‘She is part of our family now, for good or ill,’ Lena said, very much on her dignity, but spoiled it by adding bitterly, ‘and besides, Mr Rishmore has made it only too plain what he expects.’

A week later Emmy bumped into George Duckworth in town. When she tried to walk past him, he caught hold of her arm, saying, ‘Hold on a minute!’

Heart thumping, she said, ‘I don’t want to talk to you. Let go of me!’

‘I just wanted to say I was sorry about your mam, that’s all. And,’ his eyes raked her body as if she had no clothes on, ‘if you get fed up of being respectable, you can still come to me and I’ll help you get away from Northby.’

‘I’ll never get fed up of being respectable,’ she said fiercely, trying to pull her arm away from him and failing. ‘Let go, will you?’

‘Is this man bothering you, lass?’ a voice asked behind her, and Emmy sagged in relief as the grip on her arm loosened.

‘Yes. I don’t want to speak to him and he won’t let me past.’

‘You run along, then.’ When she had hurried away, Constable Makepeace looked at George and said, loudly and distinctly, ‘If anything else happens to that girl I’ll come knocking on your door first, believe me.’

‘I was just saying I was sorry about her mother.’

‘Bit late for that, isn’t it? Are you sure you had nothing to do with killing her?’

‘No, I bloody didn’t. Killing isn’t my style, as you well know, Eli Makepeace!’