Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (29 page)

As they neared London she was shocked to see a vast cloud of reddish smoke shrouding the City. This was no common fire. The other passengers were all speaking of it. Some had come to see if friends and relations were safe or in need of help to get away. What will be the fate of our little house? she wondered. I would like Father’s Bible from it. How he treasured it!

Rounding the next bend in the river they could see the Tower and behind it a great mass of flame reaching up into the sky.

“What are they doing to stop it?” she cried.

One of the passengers said, “I heard they pulled down some houses to make a clearance but they did it too near the fire and it burnt through the debris before they could shift it. The timbers are brittle dry with all the sunshine we’ve had. There needs to be some order taken and things managed better or the whole city will go – even beyond the walls.”

The skiff passed some stairs where people were waving and calling out. The fire could be seen and heard behind them for the roaring and crackling was now fearsomely loud.

“We’ll pick ‘em up on the way back,” the old waterman said, “but we can’t take much baggage.”

They now shot through the arches under London bridge and set down one or two at each of the stairs till Eunice was the only one left. She was so horrified at the extent and fury of the fire that she could hardly think of the coming encounter with her grandmother. But by the time they had reached Milford Stairs they had left the fire behind. She fumbled in her purse for what seemed an exorbitant fare.

“It’s a mighty long row from Woolwich,” the old waterman said, seeing her alarm and hesitation.

His son looked round and growled, “If she has friends in The Strand she can afford it.” It was the first thing he’d said the whole trip.

Eunice frowned at him but didn’t stop to haggle. She was glad to get out with only a few splashes of wet and mud on her skirt and, negotiating the steps, she climbed the narrow alley to the roadway of The Strand. Even here the sky was darkened by the thick pall of smoke but surely the fire itself was quite far away. The sight of it though as they had passed had been so horrific that it loomed in her mind’s eye like a great pursuing monster devouring all in its path. Fear made her set off almost at a run towards her grandmother’s house. Would she feel safe, even when she was inside, so swift was the speed of its travel?

When she reached the house it looked as it had always looked, comfortable and sedate. She saw it with new eyes since her father’s death. Before that the sight of it had always been coloured by his disapproval, a ‘temple to Mammon’ he had often called it. Now it was hiding death and suffering and loss.

As she ran up to the front door her heart expanded with love and longing for her grandmother.

A sharp-featured woman in cap and apron whom she didn’t remember opened the door to her knock.

“If you’re peddling things we don’t want ‘em.”

Eunice realised that in her very worn dress, shabby shawl and with a bundle over her shoulder she must not resent this greeting.

She put out a hand as the woman was closing the door. “Mrs Celia Horden will want to see me. I am her granddaughter.”

“No you’re not then for she’s dead. I know your sort, talk your way in and then it’s what you can pick up quick. I’d like to know what’s in your bundle from other folks’ houses.”

Eunice lowered her bundle. “I’ll show you. Perhaps you will recognise your mistress’s handwriting.”

The woman, still very suspicious, peered at the Bible she drew out. But before Eunice could open at the fly leaf to show that Celia had indeed given it to her as a child, she jumped back inside and yelled, “Robert! Guard the back door. There could be men breaking in while this girl’s keeping me talking at the front.”

“No truly –” Eunice began and then saw behind her the round figure of her grandmother hovering on the stairs.

“What is the trouble, Betty?”

“Grandmamma!” Eunice called.

“Oh dear Lord, it’s the child’s own voice!” Celia almost tumbled down the stairs, clutching at the banister to check her descent.

Betty stood aside, muttering that she was only doing her duty and how was she to recognise folks as was supposed to be dead and gone.

Eunice slipped her Bible back into the top of her bundle and letting it fall within the door, ran into her grandmother’s arms.

Celia was at first speechless with sobs. At last she held her away to look into her face. “Oh my little one, where have you come from? Have you dropped from heaven?”

“I came when I heard by chance about grandfather. I am so very sorry.”

“Well you shall come up and see him. That’ll be a sight to revive him if anything will. Betty, bring refreshments up to the parlour.”

“What sort, Ma’am?”

“Oh anything. What there is.” And Celia seized Eunice’s hand and began drawing her upstairs.

Revive Grandfather, Eunice thought. Is she mad? Has she kept him here and not buried him yet?

The best bedchamber was on the same landing as the parlour and looked out over the river. It was to this that Celia hurried her and opening the door called out, “Now, Clifford, look at this!”

The bed curtains were only partially drawn and Grandfather, a shrunken version of his old self with a lopsided face, was propped against pillows.

His eyes darted round and fixed on Eunice and became animated with delight and astonishment.

Eunice had to curb her own surprise. She mustn’t report what rumours had been saying and yet as she went near and had to bend and kiss him she thought he was not more than half alive. He gabbled sounds which she couldn’t decipher and the arm that flapped about to hold her seemed scarcely to belong to him.

“Oh Grandpapa, I am so sorry to see you like this.”

Celia interpreted his exclamations. “He wants to know where you’ve been all this while and so do I. Did your father recover too?” She looked quite frightened at the thought. Eunice guessed that she had grown used to the idea that her fearsome son would no longer berate her for her worldliness.

Eunice shook her head. “Father died of the plague and they would have shut me up in the house for a month. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I ran away. I got as far as Woolwich and found work as a housemaid. I heard someone speak of the Horden business and that you were – ill, Grandpapa.” She could see he was taking in what she said. His mind was still there in that miserable skull.

He was trying to ask questions. He seemed to be saying something, a name over and over again.

“He wants Richard Corcoran to come and report to him.” Celia said this softly, then out loud to him as if he were deaf. “
Eunice
can’t make him come if
I
can’t, Clifford.” She dropped her voice again. “Be careful what you tell him. He wants to know exactly what you heard.”

Eunice was in a dilemma. Evidently he knew only part of what had been going on but then how could she be sure that what she had heard was not false rumours too, like his death.

“Something about merchant ships captured by the Dutch.” He groaned and frowned as if in pain.

“Ay that’s what brought this on,” her grandmother said.

And then Betty called from the landing. “There’s refreshments in the parlour.” They could hear her feet stomping downstairs again.

“She’s a terrible rough woman, but come along. You must have missed your dinner so we’ll see what she’s found for you.”

She led the way out and Eunice squeezed her grandfather’s hand and had to follow, though his eyes were begging her to stay.

On a tray on the walnut table was a motley collection of food. There were slices of bread and butter, a slab of cheese, a sprig of mint, two oranges and a jug of chocolate from which steam was rising. Eunice had smelt this new drink at the Harrisons where she had been taught how to make it but had never been allowed it herself.

Celia picked up the mint between her finger and thumb and looked at it closely. “She has just picked this. We have some tubs of herbs at the back door but look at it. She hasn’t washed it.”

Eunice looked. It was blackened with ash. “It’s from the fire. Oh Grandmamma, it was terrible to see as we came along the river.”

Celia put her hands up to her face. “Is it coming nearer? I heard it was just among the old houses near the bridge. Oh quickly, child, fill your plate and eat up. Do you think we will have to move?”

“No, Grandmamma. It is a long way off. You eat too. You look tired.”

Celia sank into a chair. “Pour me a glass of chocolate. I don’t know how to tell you what dreadful news I have had today. And I dare not tell
him
. We are ruined. His lawyer came to say he is working out what debts are still owing. I wouldn’t let him in to see your grandfather.” She took the glass from her and sipped it with sighs of relief.

Eunice felt sure that ‘ruined’ was an exaggeration. No family with a house like this could be ruined. She had known what it was like to live from hand to mouth and you didn’t have servants. She helped herself to the food. It was wonderful to be told to have as much as she liked and she was hungry. She sat on one of the two straight-backed seats at the table and poured herself some chocolate too.

Celia was watching her. “So you see, poor darling, that I can’t look after you, much as I would have wanted to. The business is no more. I have been told that Corcoran disappeared with the last penny and I know not what is to become of your grandfather and me.”

Eunice paused with a piece of bread half way to her mouth. “I didn’t come to be a burden, Grandmamma. I came to see if I could help. I can work. I thought I would like to go back and get Father’s Bible from our house – if it is still standing. When I’ve done that I will look for work.”

Celia’s little eyes became cunning. “If it’s housework you want I can get rid of that woman out there. I never liked her and since she got wind of our troubles she has grown surlier by the day.”

“Of course I will help you but is there no redress, if you have been robbed by this Corcoran?”

“The lawyer says the man will be out of the country by now. An under-manager came but he was frightened to tell Clifford he had gone. Worse, that he had taken with him the contents of the strong box in the office. Only Corcoran and your grandfather had keys to that. Of course he knows I am keeping things back from him. I dare hardly go in to see him for the questions he is trying so hard to say. He is tearing himself to bits worrying and not being able to do anything.” She finished her chocolate and began to cry, her hands flopped in her lap, her little features puckered up, crowded by her flabby cheeks which she was making no effort to wipe.

Eunice was full of pity. She got up and gave her a kiss but Celia waved her back to the table shaking her head as if to say kisses were no remedy for despair.

Eunice sat down again and held back the question she most wanted to ask. Had Daniel stayed here? Instead she ate all she could from the tray and then remembered guiltily that she had not said grace before it and it was the largest meal she had had for months. She looked up and smiled at Celia.

“Thank you for that, Grandmamma, and I thank the Lord too for his goodness in providing the materials for such a feast.”

Celia sat up. “I don’t know about thanking the Lord. He has hit us with one blow after another. The plague which took your father and thousands more and the war which has destroyed innocent ships on the sea and sent my poor husband into a fit from which he’ll never recover and now He has sent a destroying fire to take away what little we have left. Don’t come preaching to me, girl, like your father did. No doubt he would say we deserved to be punished but what did we ever do wrong? Your grandfather gave work to hundreds of men in his warehouses, in the docks, in ships at sea. Why should we be cursed for that? And if we’re all to be punished for the wickedness of the court as William always said was lewd and licentious – well,
we
served the Protector when we had him and were obedient to the lawful parliament and never wanted the King back.” She sniffed. “And now I suppose because of that we’ll get no compensation for losses in a war the King chose to wage with the Hollanders. I know Daniel said the Dutch started it but I’m not so sure of that.”

She had talked herself to a standstill and she had spoken his name. Eunice didn’t have to broach it first.

“Did Cousin Daniel come here then?” She asked it as casually as she could.

Celia leapt upon it. “Ay and we all but lost him too so his mother writes and that would have been the end of all the family I told her for I didn’t know I still had you.”

Eunice gasped, “He only had a leg wound didn’t he?” The words were out before she realised the implications

“How could you know that?”

Eunice had to describe seeing him come ashore at Woolwich.

“Why did you not speak to him?” Celia almost screeched it. “It would have given him such joy. Do you not see? We had to tell him you had caught the plague from your father. He was heart-broken and if you had only accosted him we would have known you were alive. Then of course he would have insisted on bringing you to London with him and you could have been married from here and cheered us all up. Instead of which his mother would take him back home before he was fit to travel and he got a horrible infection in his leg which laid him low for weeks. You see what a trouble you caused, you foolish girl.”