Down Weaver's Lane (30 page)

‘I won’t sleep with you tonight or ever.’ Because she didn’t trust him. She had sent a carpenter across to the house secretly to make sure there were bolts on the inside of her bedroom door, strong ones. Just as she’d made sure all her clothes were unflattering and held herself as tall as she could whenever he was around. ‘If you need me again, you can knock on my bedroom door.’

Gathering the rags of her wedding dress around her, relieved when he did not follow, she stumbled along the corridor to her own room followed by the sound of his mocking laughter.

Before she got into bed, she washed him off her skin, then knelt to pray more fervently than she had ever prayed before that she would get with child quickly.

 

In such a small town Samuel Rishmore found out very quickly that his head clerk had disobeyed his orders about his niece and did not scruple to ask him why.

Embarrassed, Isaac explained what had happened.

Samuel looked at him in sympathy. ‘Some women can turn strange when they get to a certain age, and they are over-emotional creatures at the best of times.’ His own wife was missing their daughter so much that he had been subjected to moods and floods of tears ever since the wedding. Margaret was, she said, worried about how strained Jane looked, and indeed he too could see that his daughter was not happy in her marriage, though that would no doubt sort itself out as the couple grew used to one another.

So he accepted Isaac’s explanation with the warning, ‘As long as the girl is decently taken care of! I’ll not have her abandoned and falling into sin.’

‘No, sir. Indeed not, sir. She is to work for Parson for a while.’

‘Ah, that’s all right then. Mrs Bradley is an estimable woman.’

When Isaac went back to his office he sat staring into space for so long that Jack, who could see him through the open doorway, ventured to ask, ‘Are you all right, sir?’

‘What? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.’ After further thought, he said, ‘My niece has moved back to stay with the Bradleys until a suitable place can be found for her. I discovered that you were - um - correct about her unhappiness and I’m grateful you mentioned it to me.’

Jack nodded and made no comment. The whole town knew that Mrs Butterfield had run mad and cut off all her niece’s hair, and that poor Mr Butterfield had been forced to send his daughters away to school to get them away from her cruel ways. He had seen Emmy in the Parsonage garden wearing a cotton bonnet and thought it shocking that anyone would cut off her beautiful hair.

He felt better to know she was all right, but it made him unhappy that he could not be the one to help her. He hoped she would meet some man who was free to love her and give her the happy home she deserved.

No, he didn’t. It might be selfish, but he could never hope for that!

 

It was April before Emmy recovered her spirits and that was partly due to the arrival in the Bradley household of a puppy of uncertain parentage which had followed the Parson home one day, sneaking along quietly behind him, stopping when he stopped, not barking or making a noise, just following him determinedly. It was dirty and infested with fleas, all its ribs showing, and clearly it had not eaten properly for a long time. And yet it had an intelligent look to it and he simply could not bring himself to drive it away, which would almost certainly be a death sentence.

He fetched his wife to the door and they considered it together as it sat shivering and wagging its tail tentatively outside.

‘What do you think, my dear?’ he asked.

‘I think this poor little creature is exactly what Emmy needs to draw her out of her sadness,’ she replied, smiling down at it. ‘I shall ask her to care for it for me.’ She went through into the kitchen. ‘Ah, Emmy, I wonder if you could help me? Can you spare her for a few minutes, Cook?’

‘Of course, ma’am.’ Cook was still upset at Emmy’s listlessness. Though the girl’s hair had grown into short curls like a cherub’s and she had regained her former prettiness, she still looked thin and haunted, as though a strong breeze would blow her away.

Prudence led the way to the front of the house. ‘Emmy, a dear little dog has followed Parson home and we can’t bring ourselves to turn it away. Come and see!’

At the front door the dog had lain down, as if exhausted, his head on his crossed front paws but his eyes still watchful. When the two women approached he dragged himself to his feet and essayed another wag or two. He looked equally ready to flee for his life or collapse.

‘Do you think you could wash him for us and give him something to eat?’ Prudence asked. ‘Parson and I have taken quite a fancy to him.’

‘No wonder!’ Emmy plumped down in front of the dog and gave it her hand to sniff. Talking softly and moving slowly, she stroked the emaciated creature and when she felt she had gained his trust, picked him up very gently. He gave her a quick lick on the hand and sighed. She smiled down at him then looked at her mistress, cradling him in her arms. ‘I’ll be happy to look after him, Mrs Bradley. I love animals, even though I’ve never been able to have a pet of my own.’ But her attention was really on the dog and she began talking to it as she walked back to the kitchen with it.

The two Bradleys exchanged wry glances.

‘It seems we have acquired a dog,’ he said.

‘What shall we call it?’

‘What else but Hercules? After all, he has just accomplished the very difficult task of bringing a smile to Emmy’s face.’

In the kitchen Cook stopped work to gape at the dirty little creature. ‘Get that thing out of here!’

‘Parson brought him home and the mistress wants me to bath him and look after him.’

Cook opened her mouth, then shut it again as she saw the tender glow on Emmy’s face. ‘Well, you will have to look after it. I haven’t time. Though I’ll find it some scraps once you’ve bathed it.’

‘And perhaps a bowl of milk now?’ Emmy begged. ‘Just to make him feel at home.’

‘Oh, all right. But take him through to the laundry. Can’t have him under my feet.’ She rolled her eyes at Cass. ‘What next?’

‘Listen to her,’ Cass said softly. ‘She sounds happier than she has since she came back.’

They heard Emmy talking to the little animal as she cared for it, laughing as it splashed her and tried to wriggle out of the basin she was using for a bathtub.

‘Eh,’ said Cook, mopping her eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘Trust the mistress to find a way to help her. She was born to be a parson’s wife, that one was.’

Everyone in the household turned a blind eye when Emmy smuggled Hercules up to her bedroom that first night, and after that, since he did not make messes inside the house, it became openly accepted that he should sleep up there on an old blanket.

Prudence got tears in her eyes as she listened to the girl talking to the dog in a low voice and saw her playing with him, laughing aloud as she threw a stick for him to fetch, a game both of them seemed to love.

When Isaac came to call that Sunday afternoon, Emmy introduced him to the clever little dog and for the first time relaxed fully with her uncle, seeming to welcome his company and quiet talk. He went away with his heart lightened, feeling that the harm his wife had done was at last unravelling. And since he had received a cheerful letter from Dinah only the day before, saying how much she was enjoying school and the company of the other girls, he felt life was back on course. There had been no letters from Lal, not even to her mother, something Lena kept blaming him for. He was not surprised. Lal had not gone to school willingly and he had chosen a strict establishment for her, one used to dealing with wilful girls.

After spending a pleasant hour with Emmy, he went home to a silent house, to spend the rest of the day with his head buried in a newspaper before attending Evensong. His wife refused to come to church with him any more and spent most evenings staring into space, not even pretending to embroider or read. Recently she had turned morose rather than aggressive and since the incident with Emmy would not even venture out of the house, saying people were staring at her. She paid little attention to her housekeeping duties, either, so he had had to hire a sensible older woman to come in three times a week to ‘help out’ and do the shopping. Evening meals on other days were very haphazard affairs.

In fact, his life was bleak indeed these days and he was missing Dinah very much.

 

Eleanor could see that her daughter-in-law was unhappy in her new life and blamed it on Marcus. Her son had always been very selfish and self-centred. But then few women married the perfect man, did they? She certainly had not.

When she found Claude in a good mood one day, she broached the question of finding a cosy little cottage for his sister.

His smile faded instantly. ‘Why the hell should we pay out good money for a cottage when there’s a whole wing unused here?’

‘Because it’s awkward for me having Matilda here,’ she said. ‘I’ve done my best and so has she, but she simply doesn’t fit in with our friends. And if I don’t invite her to join us, people talk, you know. If we set her up in a little cottage somewhere, she could make a life of her own and we could be seen as being generous without suffering any inconvenience. If we found a place in Northby I could call in to see her when I visit Margaret Rishmore, which should satisfy the gossips.’

He growled under his breath and sat slapping one hand idly up and down on the arm of his chair as he thought this through. ‘She’d need servants.’

‘Just one maid and someone to help in the garden occasionally. The girl who used to look after her could come back, I’m sure. Mrs Bradley tells me she’s looking for another place. Matilda talks about her often and seems very fond of her.’

‘You want my sister to leave, do you, then?’

Eleanor shrugged, a delicately expressive gesture. ‘I must admit I should prefer such an arrangement and I think it would make her happier, too. She’s lonely here.’

‘Have it your own way, then! I’m not sorting out any of the arrangements, though.’

‘Of course not. Women do these things so much better than men. And as to the cost?’

‘Spend as little as you can get away with. I’m not throwing money at her.’

‘I shall be most frugal.’ He was frowning in thought, so Eleanor waited for him to speak.

‘If there’s a suitable cottage for sale, it might be best to buy a place for her. I don’t like putting money into other men’s pockets. Afterwards, when it’s not needed, we can rent it out.’

‘What a good idea! Trust you to turn this into a sensible business arrangement.’ She smiled to see his smug expression then went to break the news to Matilda. What Claude considered a small amount of money to live on would seem lavish to a woman who had managed on two guineas a month previously, she was sure.

Tibby stared at her sister-in-law in disbelief. ‘You mean - Claude has agreed to let me have a house of my own again?’

‘Yes. I told you he would once the wedding was over.’

Tibby burst into tears.

Eleanor went to put an arm round her. ‘Are you not pleased? You don’t have to leave if you don’t want.’

‘Pleased? I’m delighted!’ Tibby blew her nose. ‘I can’t believe it’s happening.’

‘There’s even better news.’

Tibby blinked at her, unable to conceive of anything better.

‘Emmy hasn’t found another place and I’m sure she’d come back to you if you want her.’

She then had to hold the old lady and rock her until she’d stopped weeping.

‘So happy!’ Tibby kept saying through her tears. ‘So very kind of you.’

In the end Eleanor said bracingly, ‘Then if you’re happy, kindly stop weeping all over my new gown and help me plan what to do.’

When Mrs Armistead next came to call on Mrs Bradley, whom she had known before her marriage, Emmy asked Cook if she could run out and speak to the coachman waiting outside. ‘I just want to ask him if Mrs Tibby is all right.’

‘Still miss her, don’t you?’ Cook asked indulgently, waving a hand in permission.

The coachman condescended to inform the young lass that Mrs Oswald was keeping well, though she was having trouble walking.

‘Would you give her my regards, please?’ she asked. ‘I’m Emmy. I used to be her maid.’

He smiled down at her, thinking how pretty she looked and wondering if the tales he had heard were true. Her hair was hidden beneath a cap but it did look very short. ‘Of course I will, lass,’ he said.

As Emmy turned towards the house, there was a tapping on the window and she saw her mistress beckoning from the front parlour. She hurried inside to find Mrs Bradley waiting in the hall. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just asking the coachman about Mrs Tibby. Cook said I could.’

‘Come and ask my visitor about her instead. Mrs Oswald’s sister-in-law will know much better than the coachman how she’s keeping.’