Down Weaver's Lane (43 page)

Edward followed her to demand, ‘You’re not going to pay them, surely?’

‘They’ve done the work so they’ve earned the money.’ She counted out the coins and took them into the hall. ‘Could you . . . come and see me on Monday, please, Babs? After Edward has left?’

‘If I’m still in the village, I may do,’ Babs conceded, sure they’d both get their jobs back once her mistress had had time to think things over. ‘As long as you promise faithfully that
he
won’t molest me.’

Cynthia threw her son an angry glance. ‘Edward won’t be here on Monday.’

The village cab came clopping to a halt outside and Alf jumped down, all agog to see what was going on. It’d take something shocking to drive Babs Meeson out of her comfortable position at this hour of a Saturday night. He’d known her since she was a girl visiting her auntie and if there was trouble, he knew whose side he was on. As soon as he saw Edward Dalby and the way Babs avoided going near him as she walked down the hall, he said, ‘Been pestering you, has he?’

‘Yes, he has,’ said Babs, loudly and defiantly.

‘His father was just the same. Came after my Bet once, he did, but I soon told him where to get off, gentleman or no.’

In the hall Cynthia heard every word and breathed in deeply before reaching for her cordial again. She had known her husband was not faithful, but not that his behaviour was such common knowledge in the village.

As the cab horse clopped away, Edward came back into the house and slammed the front door behind him, saying loudly, ‘Good riddance to the pair of them!’

His mother scowled at him. ‘You’d better leave first thing in the morning, Edward. And don’t return until you have learned to behave in your mother’s household. Even your father, for all his faults, never attacked my own maids.’

‘But—’

She raised one hand. ‘I do not intend to discuss this further. In fact, I’m going to bed. I shan’t get up tomorrow until you’ve gone.’

 

Marcus Armistead sent the groom to Carbury, where Edward’s mother lived, to look for Emmy. Denny took a room at the alehouse and found out that the girl his master had described was indeed working for old Mrs Dalby. His instructions were to follow her if she left the village; otherwise just to keep an eye on her. Easy work, this.

The second evening he saw her come for the village cab, looking upset. Intrigued, he swallowed the last of his ale and loped along after the cab to the Dalby house, two streets away. The driver went inside then came out carrying some luggage. Two women left the house, the pretty one his master fancied and a hard-faced older piece who turned to shout, ‘People like you should be taken out and hanged!’ at a gentleman standing in the doorway with arms folded before she let Alf close the cab door.

Denny continued to follow the vehicle, giving thanks that the horse was elderly and only willing to plod. It stopped at a cottage on the outskirts of the village and the driver helped the women carry their possessions inside. The observer could not get close enough to overhear what they were saying, but decided there was nothing further likely to happen that night so went back to the alehouse. To his delight Alf came in a bit later for something to warm his bones. Judicious questioning revealed that the two women had left their jobs and gone to stay with the older one’s aunt.

Someone came to shout for a cab just as Denny was getting the questioning round to why exactly the two maids had left their mistress at this hour on a Saturday night. When Alf had left, he grinned as he ordered another glass of ale. This was better than working in the stables, by hell it was! In the morning he’d take up position near the cottage early on, to make sure the young woman didn’t leave without his knowledge. In the meantime, he’d enjoy the local ale.

On Sunday morning, as soon as her son had left, Cynthia summoned Cook and asked her to fetch Babs and Emmy back. ‘They need have no more fear of my son. He will not be coming back here for quite some time.’

‘We can send the lad from next door to fetch ’em,’ Cook said. ‘I have my work to do if you want any food preparing today.’ She was very much on her dignity and knew her mistress was terrified she would leave as well.

‘I’d be most grateful, Cook. Thank you so much.’

When the lad brought the message, Babs winked at Emmy and sent back word that they could not come until the following day as they still had not recovered from the dreadful shock of being treated so badly.

Emmy listened in amazement to the confident way Babs dealt with the message boy. She didn’t know what she would have done without her friend and wished she were even half as sure of herself. She felt safe with Babs in charge and that suddenly reminded her of how her mother had often used the word.
Safe!
She had experienced a distinct lack of safety in her own life now and so far all she had done was run away.

Was there a better way to deal with it?

What had made her mother turn to selling her body? Emmy wondered suddenly. Had she been driven to it by men like Marcus Armistead and Charles Dalby? And who had killed her? How many nights had Emmy lain awake wondering that? Was it, as she suspected, Marcus Armistead or just a passing stranger? And would they ever find out?

After Babs had sent the boy away she put an arm round Emmy, giving her a quick hug. ‘You look like you’ve lost a guinea and found a farthing, my girl. Cheer up! We’ve got a day’s holiday today and then tomorrow we’ll let Mrs Dalby persuade us to go and work for her again.’ She chuckled. ‘I bet she even raises our wages.’

Emmy said quietly, ‘I shan’t be going back to her.’

‘What? Why ever not?’

‘Because her son knows Marcus Armistead and will tell him where I am.’ Suddenly she had a longing to tell the full story to someone. ‘Could we go for a walk? I need to ask your advice. If you don’t mind, that is?’

‘Good idea. You’ve been looking as miserable as a wet week this morning.’ Babs raised her voice. ‘We’re going out for a bit of a stroll, Auntie.’

They put on some warm clothes and walked along the lane before climbing a stile to cut across the nearby meadows. The countryside was softer round here than at Northby and the weather was quite mild for December. It made Emmy wonder what the rest of England was like.

They found a sheltered bench and sat on it while she told her friend how she’d been driven away from Northby. When she finished she looked up, expecting to see disgust in the other woman’s eyes, but found only sympathy. ‘I thought you’d despise me,’ she said shakily.

‘Why should I? You haven’t done anything wrong, love. And you shouldn’t go round acting as if you have something to be ashamed of, either. It was your mother who misbehaved, not you. If that Jack fellow wants to marry you and you love him as much as you say, I think you’re a fool not to do it. I’d have snapped his hand off if it’d been me.’

‘But his mother said she’d kill me rather than see me marry him.’

‘She wouldn’t really do that - unless she’s insane.’ Babs wrinkled her nose in a wry smile that was peculiarly her own. ‘She’s just trying to frighten you away, love. And don’t you think your Jack would have something to say about such a threat?’ She let that sink in, then said thoughtfully, ‘You’d better not let her live with you, though. She sounds a right old misery-guts.’

‘You’ve been such a good friend to me, Babs. I’ve needed someone to talk to for ages, someone more like myself. Mrs Bradley is lovely, but she doesn’t understand things like you do because she’s never known what it’s like to be poor.’ Emmy gave a tremulous smile then it faded and she added in a low voice, ‘There’s still Marcus Armistead, though. He’s a real threat to both Jack and me.’

‘Yes. But with a parson and a banker on your side, the two of you should be safe enough from him.’ She frowned, thinking over what Emmy had said. ‘What about that lawyer fellow who came to Northby after your mother died? You said he knew your father’s family. Maybe he could ask them to help you find somewhere else to live. After all, they won’t be sorry to hear you’re getting wed to a decent young chap, will they? Try asking them. They can only say no, after all.’

‘I don’t want anything from them!’

‘What was in those papers of your mother’s?’

Emmy looked at her in surprise. ‘I don’t know. They’re still hidden in the attic at my uncle’s. I decided to leave them there. I doubt they’ll contain any good news.’

Babs shook her head with mock severity. ‘You should have checked, though. You never know. It seems to me that what you need, my lass, is to take charge of your life and make it go where you want. And the first thing is to marry that Jack of yours if you love him so much.’ She nudged her friend and grinned slyly. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You do love him?’

Blushing, Emmy nodded.

‘You’re not like me, love. I never did want to marry. Had enough of kids when I was helping bring up my brothers and sisters. It’s hard work being the eldest of ten, I can tell you. But once I’d got used to how things work in service, I stopped letting anyone mess me around, whether they were my employer or not. I’m really happy with my life now. I don’t work for anyone as treats me badly, and if they try anything on, I leave. Believe me, employers need us as much as we need them. I tell them straight out when they’re interviewing me that I’m an excellent worker, none better, but I’ll only stay with them if they treat me right and feed me properly. If they don’t like that, I find someone else to work for. I’ve been with Mrs Dalby for three years now. She suits me, but I never did think much of her son and I think even less now. If she lets him start pestering her maids, I’m off for good.’

Babs let those ideas sink in, then continued, ‘So if you’re not coming back to Mrs Dalby’s, what exactly are you going to do, love?’

‘I’m going back to Mrs Bradley and . . .’ Emmy took a deep breath as she put her dearest wish into words ‘... I’m going to talk to Jack and see if we can work something out. Like you said, there are people on our side. Besides, I’ve missed him dreadfully since I came here. The thought of not seeing him again, well . . .’ It had become too much to bear.

Babs crowed in triumph. ‘Now you’re talking a bit of sense, my girl.’ She frowned. ‘But we don’t want anyone stopping you on your way back. We have to get you to Blackburn safely first and then across to this Northby of yours.’ She tapped her forefinger against her lips as she considered the problem, then held the finger up and waggled it triumphantly. ‘I know! Let’s go and see a farmer friend of mine. If he’s sending any loads into Blackburn tomorrow, he can take you with him.’

Arm in arm the two women strolled back to the village. Emmy didn’t even notice that a damp breeze was blowing, presaging rain, because she felt a growing determination to take charge of her life, just as Babs had done.

And this new turn in events seemed meant to be when they found that the farmer was taking a load of potatoes into Blackburn the very next day and would be happy to give her a ride.

Lenny was an older, fatherly sort of man and she felt quite safe with him, but Babs was still frowning. ‘I think we’ll disguise you as well. Better safe than sorry, eh?’ Then she chuckled suddenly. ‘How do you fancy being great with child, Emmy Carter? I’ll borrow a cushion and we can tie it under your clothes.’

 

Jack spent his half-day on Saturday making inquiries, and by playing the lovelorn suitor desperately wanting to find his young woman, make up an alleged quarrel and marry her, he eventually persuaded Mr Garrett’s coachman, who was of a sentimental nature, to tell him where they’d gone.

When he got home he told his mother what he was doing.

She looked at him in horror. ‘No! Son, don’t do it!’

Knowing it had to be said sooner or later, he said sternly, ‘I’m still upset about you driving Emmy away, and I haven’t forgiven you for that. You’ve done the opposite to what you intended as far as I’m concerned. You’ve made sure that I’ll
have
to leave you, because I’m going to marry Emmy whatever anyone says or does, and I’m not having her living with someone who makes everyone’s life a misery.’

When Netta began to sob he raised his voice: ‘Stop that!’ She continued to sob, so he shook her lightly, just enough to get her attention. ‘Listen to me, Mam. I’ll make sure you’re all right, but Emmy’s done nothing wrong and there’s no reason on earth why I shouldn’t marry her.’

‘But—’

‘I haven’t finished. You’ve also driven Meg away and I won’t be able to forgive you for that till I bring her back. She’d lost her husband then her child. You should have been looking after her, comforting her. Instead you never stopped nagging her. You’ve a lot on your conscience, Mam, and I hope you can live with it if any harm comes to our Meg. As soon as Emmy and I have sorted our lives out, I’m going to look for my sister and bring her home as well—to
my
home, not yours.’

‘But—’

‘I don’t want to hear any excuses because there’s nothing you can say or do that’ll make me change my mind. You’ve made your bed and must lie in it. I’ll make sure you’re all right, but I won’t be living with you after I’ve married Emmy.’ He stood up. ‘Now I have things to do.’