House of Angels (28 page)

Josiah was standing behind his desk, the light from the green-shaded lamp on his desk casting a slanting shadow over her face. Despite the poor light Livia thought he looked ill, his complexion sallow, the brow deeply furrowed as he stared at her in grim silence. He was a big man, and seemed somehow larger than ever in the gloom.

She’d received the summons to come to his office only this morning, and had readily agreed. She felt safe enough here at the store, rather than at Angel house, and there was a great deal she needed to say to him. The last thing she wanted was to appear afraid. Livia straightened her spine and faced him.

‘Good afternoon, Father, you wished to speak with me.’

‘I wish to put an end to this stupid defiance of yours. I’ve waited long enough for you to come to your senses and do your duty, but I’ve finally reached the end of my patience.’

‘Is that why you ordered Henry to assault me?’ Livia had her hands clasped tightly at her waist, lest they trembled. She was determined not to allow him to see how very afraid she was.

‘He had to find some way to get past that obstinate pride of yours.’

‘By
raping
me?’

‘Don’t exaggerate! You’ve only yourself to blame. Had you done what was expected of you in the first place, it would not have been necessary for him to use such methods of persuasion.’

‘
Persuasion
! Is that what you call it? You speak as if this were still the Dark Ages and I a mere chattel to be bought and sold in your feudal empire. Well, let me tell you, Father, that the world has moved on apace since then. I am my own woman and will marry or not as I choose, not simply to suit your purposes.’

‘
You will do as I say
! How many more times must I tell you? You
will
marry Henry Hodson!’

She actually laughed in his face. ‘What do you intend to do, drag me to the altar by my hair?’

‘If necessary.’ Josiah began to unbuckle his belt, and Livia’s knees suddenly turned to jelly. Only by summoning every atom of will power did she manage not to reveal her fear. ‘It will take more than brute force to make me do your bidding. Why are you doing this? Is it a debt? Has Henry threatened to take you over, or bankrupt you?’

She saw by the way his face became suffused by a terrifying purple rage that she’d guessed correctly. But then it hadn’t been difficult to work out. Everything her
father did always came down to money. His daughters’ happiness had never been part of the equation.

He slapped the desk with the leather strap, scattering papers and ledgers everywhere, and making Livia jump. ‘This is a family business, and like it or not, girl, you are a part of it.’

‘Really?’ She took a step towards him, fists clenched, the anger inside firing up to boiling point, as she’d known that it must one day. ‘Only as a bargaining tool, a piece of merchandise to give away to your creditors in lieu of debt. But then why would I expect anything else from you? You’ve devoted your entire life to ruling our home with a rod of iron, determined to bend and subdue the women in your family to your will, no matter what the cost. You’ve beaten, bullied and abused us, your innocent daughters, for the crime of not being the son you always wanted. You betrayed my mother with God knows how many mistresses, and when the offspring of one turns up at your door asking for help, you lock her away and have her beaten too, just so that it never gets out that Councillor Angel, Mayor, and would-be Member of Parliament, has an illegitimate daughter.’

She could see how his face was working into a fury, but she didn’t pause, not for a second.

‘As if all of that wasn’t enough to earn you a passport to hell, you order your own daughter to be raped in order to force her into marriage with the man who is threatening to make you bankrupt.’ Her face contorted with disgust and rage, she spat the words at him. ‘You are despicable! Depraved! Debauched! Vile! I can’t find
words bad enough to describe you. Just being in the same room with you makes me want to vomit.’

She half turned away, as if about to leave, but filled with a demonic fury he lashed out at her with the strap. By some instinct, some inner resolve never to submit to his bullying again, Livia lifted her arm at just the right moment, and with one vicious tug caught the strap, dragging it from his hand and into hers.

Josiah roared his fury like a lion deprived of its kill.

Livia thought of Maggie hanging from that banister, of her mother choosing to end her days in a drugged haze rather than face the day-to-day reality of a blighted marriage. She thought of Henry’s fat questing fingers, and the urge to strike out and put an end to that agony, to have her revenge at last, was overpowering.

But she couldn’t do it.

Not because she was afraid; she wasn’t, not any more. She saw her father for what he was: a miserable, pitiful creature, quite incapable of loving anyone but himself. Revenge would solve nothing and only make her as bad as him. She tossed the strap away with a contemptuous curl to her lip.

‘I’ll be damned if I’ll sink to your level. I’m worth more than that. But don’t you dare come near me ever again, and keep Henry away too, or I’ll shout all your dirty little secrets from the rooftops.’

Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

There was nothing strange or new about the work expected of Mercy on Todd’s Farm. The cows needed
milking in exactly the same way as those on the farm in the Langdales, the dairy operated a similar routine, and the ground needed tilling for vegetables with exactly the same kind of hoe, the weeds growing just as fast. And when she wasn’t found work to do on the land or in the dairy, there was always the house to sweep, the pans to scrub, although what that lazy old woman, Mrs Rackett, did all day was quite beyond her.

As Mercy settled into the loft over the barn, hanging their few clothes on hooks in the wall, setting out the hairbrush she’d bought for herself, she embarked upon these daily duties with grudging resignation. This was not where she wished to be, although if it made George happy then she would tolerate it, at least for now.

George was still a flirt and a practical joker. He was good looking and likeable, and couldn’t resist putting on an act, particularly to a new and grateful audience. Whether it was wearing a dress and pretending to be stupid, or chatting up Nurse Bathurst so that she would allow him some treat or other, it was like a performance.

Now he made a bee-line for Ella’s vulnerability. Perhaps he recognised her innate loneliness, her desperate need for company and attention, and took advantage of it.

He would always be there for her if she needed water carrying, or logs stacking. He’d tell her how beautiful she looked of a morning, even when she was pale and tired with anxious bruises beneath her eyes. He’d flatter her about her cooking, no matter if there was gristle in the stew or her cakes had gone flat. And he’d stop whatever job he was doing in an instant, simply to take the time
to talk to her, which her husband rarely seemed to find time to do.

Mercy had been paying careful attention and without doubt Amos neglected his wife. He never praised a meal she cooked for him, or told her she looked nice even when she’d clearly gone to a great deal of effort to please him. He took her entirely for granted, as if she were a paid servant and not his wife at all. Yet he watched her with a smouldering look in his eyes whenever she wasn’t looking his way. She couldn’t quite work out what was wrong between the pair of them, but something most certainly was. No wonder she lapped up the extra attention George gave her.

But if that madam thought she could steal her man, she was very much mistaken. Just let her try and she’d rue the day, half-sister or no.

It was also infuriating that Ella had made a point of explaining that she must not mention the fact she was illegitimate. Mercy had instantly taken offence, and told this so-called sister of hers, quite bluntly, that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Ella had looked quite distressed. ‘I wasn’t implying that you had, only Amos is so – so very condemning over any issue concerning morals. I will tell him, as soon as I find the right moment, I swear. Until then, I’d be grateful for your discretion.’

Mercy took her revenge by being deliberately uncooperative. If Ella asked her to feed the calves, she would linger over her breakfast, coming to the task in her own good time. She would pretend not to understand
and pour the milk into the wrong dishes, taking great pleasure in seeing Ella fall into a panic because her system had gone all wrong. Serve the silly woman right for having had things easy up until now. Mercy didn’t believe half those tales Livia had told her about beatings, or locking her in a cage. More likely the result of a fanciful imagination than plain fact. No father would treat his daughters thus.

What reason did Ella have to complain? She’d lived in a fine house with servants to do her every bidding, her every whim indulged, provided with beautiful clothes to wear, money to spend and delicious food to eat. Meanwhile, Mercy’s own mother, and herself too, had nought but rags on their backs and been near starvation more times than she cared to recall. She saw it as only justice if now this pampered girl was obliged to toil long and hard on the farm. Do her good to suffer for a change.

If Mercy could find any way of making things more difficult for this half-sister of hers, then she would do so.

Just a week or two after starting work on the farm Mercy spotted her best opportunity yet for revenge. Naughty George was lingering in the barn chatting to Ella when really he should have been taking the cows back to the pasture and checking on the sheep and cattle. So when she saw Amos approaching, Mercy made a great show of quickly shutting the door, as if she didn’t want him to see inside.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ she asked in all innocence, bobbing a curtsey and appearing flustered.

Amos frowned. ‘I don’t believe so, Mercy. Is there some problem?’

‘No sir, not that I know of.’ It was demeaning having to do all this ‘yes sir, no sir,’ nonsense, bobbing and curtseying when really the man was no better than she was, and her brother-in-law to boot. Mercy stubbornly blocked his way. ‘Begging yer pardon, sir, only I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.’

‘Why not?’

‘Ooh, it’s not my place to say, sir…only…you might see summat that would upset you.’ Mercy flapped her hands and put on a great show of being caught out. ‘I just wouldn’t, sir, that’s all.’

Amos set her firmly to one side and pushed it open. He saw them at once: his wife and his hired man. They were standing close together and she was gazing up at him, a flush on her lovely cheeks,
while his hand was on her hair
. Amos saw how they instantly leapt apart when they heard the door open, Ella’s eyes wide and frightened. Then she came running over, looking flustered, asking if he needed anything. Amos glared at her, then turning on his heel, strode away.

Mercy crept back to the kitchen, a secret smile on her face.

Ella was devastated by what had just occurred. What bad luck that Amos should choose to walk in at just that inopportune moment? George had been commenting that she looked tired, insisting that she take more rest now he and Mercy were here to help. Suddenly there he
was, framed in the doorway, glaring at them both. She’d felt like a defenceless rabbit transfixed by the beam of a torch.

She had to admit that it had looked bad. George had been tucking a stray curl behind her ear, which he’d really had no right to do. Yet nothing had been going on. They’d only been talking, although admittedly she’d been tempted to open her heart perhaps more than she should. But then George was a good listener, and most sympathetic to her plight.

Ella wasn’t in the least tempted by his flirting, or believed a word of his silly flattery, much as it might make her blush at times. More importantly she’d no wish to betray Amos, or harm her relationship with him, so why had she foolishly leapt away when he’d walked in upon them like that, making it appear as if they were guilty when that was definitely not the case?

Why hadn’t she remained calm and simply walked over to him with a smile, as any loving wife would?

Ella’s one preoccupation was to try and find a way to win over her husband. He wasn’t an easy man, but he was honest and good. She knew that he came from a long line of yeoman stock, an independent breed with a strong sense of what was right and wrong. Amos involved himself in church and community affairs because, no doubt, his father before him had done so. Such men would often take on the role of constable, churchwarden, or justice of the peace, sit on juries or help collect rates. Yet this could often make them somewhat condemnatory of others’ faults.

She’d thought recently that Amos was slowly beginning to relax and not be quite so quick to judge, and was learning to show his feelings, little by little. He was a kind man, albeit one with problems.

After her talk with Mrs Jessop, Ella had come to understand her husband better. He spoke less often of Esther, and didn’t follow his first wife’s rules quite so blindly. He’d even stopped endlessly quoting the scriptures at her. Then there was the surprise purchase of the pony and trap, and the fact he’d started to pay her a few compliments. Ella had really become quite optimistic of things starting to improve between them.

Now she’d ruined everything.

That night, for the first time since he’d made love to her in the attic, Amos came to her bed. Ella could hardly believe it when she heard his hand on the latch. She was excited and terrified all at the same time. What had inspired him to come? Was it out of jealousy? She wondered if she should reassure him that what he’d witnessed in the barn had been perfectly innocent, that she wasn’t in the least attracted to George. And yet reminding him of that scene could be a mistake, making more of the incident than it rightly deserved. He might see her protestations as yet another sign of guilt, as if she needed to defend herself.

Oh, but she wanted so much to please him. She wanted a proper marriage and a husband who loved her. She wanted a child.