One thing had disappointed her about Miss Hobson’s visit: the lady’s maid had made no reference to the change she saw in the house, and she must have noticed that it was different.
Then Parson Weeks had come. He was a very dominant man was Parson Weeks, and he had stayed over an hour, and had spent it in the library with the master. And when he was about to take his leave he had spoken to her, saying, ‘Will I be seeing you all at church tomorrow morning?’ And after a moment’s hesitation she had said, ‘I should like to send the children, sir, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to attend myself.’
‘Well, send the children,’ he had said.
Again she had hesitated before saying, ‘Well, if the weather holds and it doesn’t snow, sir.’
‘Oh, the weather will hold,’ he replied airily; ‘and the walk will do them good. You send them, ma’am. You send them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And every Sunday after. Do you hear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Percival Miller had been standing near during this conversation, but he had said nothing, just stood apart, his hands behind his back, his head bowed slightly, his gaze directed towards his shoes. Riah glanced at him before turning away. It was as if he were affected by even the mention of the children…
But here it was, Christmas morning. The children had gone to church and they hadn’t to walk the mile or so there and the mile back because Tol, like the good friend that he was, had come and taken them. She had a fire blazing in the drawing room and one in the dining room, and in this room she had set the table in style, as she put it, even to putting a trail of holly on the stiffly starched white cloth. It was a round dining table and she had covered the whole of it, not just the end as she usually did on a Sunday which was the only time he used the dining room; the rest of the week he had his meals served on a tray in the library. She often wondered at what time he left that room at night and went to bed. Some nights he didn’t leave it for she would find the bed hadn’t been slept in. These were the mornings when she’d come downstairs again with his tray of tea and find him asleep on the couch with books strewn by the side of it. That’s all he seemed to live for, books. She felt sorry for him, deeply sorry. She wished she could do something for him to lift him out of this despondency that he seemed to be in. And she knew the full meaning of that word because it came in Pilgrim’s Progress and Seth had read that to them.
She had placed two glasses on the table, one for wine and one for water, and in front of them she had put the bottle of wine that was their Christmas surprise to him. But she wondered if he would remark on it.
She looked around the room. Everything was ready. The meal was waiting to be served. She knew he had just come back from his walk. He had taken to going for a brisk walk these past few weeks, sometimes being out for half a day at a time.
There was a large hall mirror at the end of the dining room and she stood in front of it for a moment and smoothed back her hair from her brow. She did not wear a cap; she hadn’t one, and he hadn’t insisted on it. But today she was wearing her Sunday frock and over it a large white apron. As she smoothed the apron down over her hips she told herself she would do; then she hurried out of the room and made her way to the kitchen, there to be greeted by the children. They had already taken off their outdoor things and they crowded round her, all talking at once.
She silenced them, saying, ‘One at a time! One at a time! Now what was it like?’ She looked at Davey and he said, ‘It was very nice, Ma, and the singing was nice.’
‘And the church was decorated,’ said Biddy. ‘And oh, Ma, it was lovely. And there was a shelter, like a stable with straw and donkeys, and, oh Ma—’ Biddy’s lips began to tremble and Maggie put in now, ‘There was a cradle like mine, Ma, like Tol made me, only mine was better.’
‘Ma—’ It was Davey speaking, and his voice seemed to silence the others and he looked at her for a moment before he went on, ‘We saw him.’
‘The master?’
‘Aye, close up. He…he was walking along the road, and Tol stopped the cart and spoke to him.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Tol? Oh, he talked about the weather an’ if it was going to snow.’
‘What did the master say?’
‘Oh, he agreed with Tol, an’ he said it could happen any time.’
‘Ma—’ Riah turned her attention to Biddy again, and Biddy said, ‘He looked at us.’
‘He did?’
‘Aye, one after the other. It was funny the way he looked at us, like …’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Not nasty, not as if he didn’t like us. I don’t know how he looked. Anyway, it was just for a minute, and then he walked off.’ Riah stared at the children for a moment, then said, ‘Well, go on now, go in the other room, and don’t make a lot of noise. The fire’s on, the table’s set, and I’ll be in with your dinner in a few minutes.’
‘Oh! Pork’—Johnny was hopping from one leg to the other—‘an’ roast taties.’
‘Go on, greedy guts!’ She pushed him and the others towards the door, then busied herself getting the meat out of the oven.
She had just completed setting the large tray with three vegetable dishes and the gravy tureen and a meat dish, on which lay slices of pork trimmed with the choice of roast rabbit separated by his favourite baked dumplings, when one of the ten brass bells arranged above the kitchen door tinkled. Almost staggering under the weight of the tray, she left the kitchen.
Outside the dining-room door she placed the tray down on a side table, pushed open the door, then entered the room.
He was sitting by the fire and he did not speak as she arranged the dishes on the table, but he watched her. When she was finished and had turned and looked at him, saying, ‘I hope you enjoy your meal, sir,’ he continued to stare at her for a moment; then turning his gaze back to the table, he said, ‘The wine. That was thoughtful of you, Maria, but you should not have wasted the housekeeping money on such.’
Her chin moved slightly as she said, ‘I didn’t use the housekeeping money, sir; it is my…our present to you for your kindness to us.’
She watched his eyes widen as he rose from the chair to go to the table; and there, sitting down, he lifted up the bottle and looked at it, saying softly, ‘It is a good wine. May I ask what you paid for it?’
She hesitated for a moment before she said, ‘One and ninepence, sir.’
When he replaced the bottle on the table his hand remained on it and he repeated, ‘One and ninepence. Almost half of what I give you for your week’s wages. You are very kind, and…and I thank you, Maria. What is more’—he now looked fully at her—‘my thanks are also overdue for the way you have kept the house. It hasn’t been like this for many, many years; you have brought comfort back into it.’
The colour, she knew, was rushing over her face and she stammered slightly as she said, ‘I…I…I’m glad you find it so, sir.’
‘I do. I do.’
When a silence fell between them she looked at the table and said hastily, ‘Your dinner will be getting cold. Will I…serve it out for you?’ And he answered, ‘No. No, thank you; I…I can see to it. Thank you very much.’ It was a note of dismissal and she was about to turn away when he said softly, ‘You have a fine looking family, Maria.’ Her colour deepened still further as she smiled widely at him. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you find them so.’
He was reaching out to fork a piece of rabbit as he spoke again, saying, ‘Why is your elder boy so fair, and the others dark?’
‘He takes after his grandfather, sir, who came from Sweden.’
‘Oh. Oh, is that the reason? He’s a fine looking boy. They are fine looking children.’
She said again, ‘Thank you, sir.’ And when he said no more she turned hastily about and left the room. But in the hall she joined her hands and pressed them tightly against the nape of her neck. He was going to recognise the children, soon
they’d be able to move about freely. Whatever thing he had against children as a whole was disappearing; she could feel it. Oh, what a lovely Christmas this was. And it wasn’t near ended, because this afternoon, Tol had promised to drop in and have tea with the children…Tol. She closed her eyes for a moment and a slow smile spread over her face, only to be wiped off quickly and for her whole body to jerk as an inner voice cried, None of that now! None of that! And Seth hardly cold; and Tol a younger man; and you with four bairns. Have sense, woman, have sense. Don’t spoil things.
As if answering the voice, she said, ‘No, no; I mustn’t spoil things. I’ll take what is offered and be thankful.’ And on this she started hurriedly towards the kitchen.
Six
The winter had been long and hard. Yet, on looking back, it had passed quickly; she’d had so much to do. Every room in the house had been cleaned from floor to ceiling. Where it was possible she had washed curtains and bedspreads. She had also carefully darned worn fabrics, using a box of coloured silks she had found in a drawer in Mrs Miller’s room. The lady had evidently spent a lot of her time doing tapestry for there was much evidence of it in chair-back covers and seats.
At night, when she went to bed, very often too tired to sleep, she would lie awake going over and over the activities of the day, especially of those days or evenings when Tol had come for his lesson. He was progressing nicely and could now not only write his own name and address, but could spell over fifty words of two syllables. His progress hadn’t been due so much to herself, and to his own adaptability, but to Biddy, who had now read right through the Bible, and not only that, but was able to memorise and quote passages. So bright did she appear at times that Riah thought she was getting a bit above herself and so had to check her in no small voice, at such times as when she read pieces from the Newcastle weekly paper that Tol picked up for the master, and which Mr Miller usually threw in the waste-paper basket the day after its arrival. Since Christmas the master had seemed more relaxed. Sometimes he would talk to her when she took in his meals, asking her questions about her early life.
Yesterday she had asked leave to go into Gateshead Fell, saying she wanted to do a little shopping for the children. She didn’t state the exact nature of the shopping, which was to go to the second-hand stall, the equivalent to Paddy’s market in the city, and there pick up some old clothes that she could cut down for trousers for the boys and dresses for the girls, for now their clothes were getting very threadbare.
So here she was, making the journey alone, for she knew if she had brought the girls with her they would hold her up wanting to see this an’ that in the market.
She had to walk the mile to the coach road and from there she took the cart into the town.
Once in the market she too had the desire to wander around the stalls; but this she curbed and made straight for the clothes pile. There was an assortment of garments on a trestle table, but the kind she was looking for were thrown here and there on the ground, which fortunately was dry. She wasn’t the only one on the same errand and at one stage she had a gentleman’s tail-coat almost wrenched from her hands. But as she had already seen it transformed into a pair of knickerbockers for Davey, who was growing so fast that the two pairs he possessed were not only thin in the seat but now well above his knees, she hung on to it fiercely.
When she finally left the stall her two canvas bags held two cotton dresses, a voluminous serge skirt which would eventually provide her with a dress, two men’s corduroy coats, both lined and padded which was an asset, and the swallowtail coat.
Before leaving the market she treated herself to a plate of hot peas, and afterwards, after waiting an hour and a half by the side of the road, she mounted the cart for home. She felt so pleased with her purchases and her day’s outing that somewhere inside herself she was humming.
She hadn’t told Tol where she was going so he hadn’t made an effort to meet her. She had of late made as few requests of him as possible. If he did anything for them it must be, as she thought, off his own bat. In fact, at times of late she had been a little reserved with him, not laughing as freely as she used to do, and she knew he was puzzled by it. But, as she told herself, it was her only safeguard, even though it was a poor one.
Although she had shared the clothing between her two bags she was finding them heavy and when she reached the old toll gate that was no longer in use, having been transferred to the main coach road, she sat down on a low drystone wall, behind which was a bank of trees bordering a woodland walk. This was the beginning of the Gullmingtons’ estate and the woodlands that came under Tol’s care.
There was also a grassy drive on this side of the wall, and this was bordered on its other side by another wood, and half a mile along this drive lay Tol’s cottage where the two woods spread out to make what was known as Fuller’s Dip.
Riah now narrowed her eyes to take in the distant figure walking down the drive in the shadow of the trees. It was still some distance away when she recognised Annie Briston. The coming meeting didn’t fill her with any pleasure for she knew that, unfortunately, Annie had come to resent her; and she wasn’t unaware of the reason. But up till now they had continued to be civil to each other.
Annie Briston was of medium height. She was of a delicate appearance and one would have imagined her voice would have complemented her features, but, unfortunately, it was in sharp contrast, its tone mostly ranging between peevishness and a stridency which indicated temper; and it was the latter that came over in her first approach to Riah as she said, ‘Well, you seem loaded up. Been out begging again?’
It would appear that Riah had been pushed from the wall, so quickly did she jump to her feet; and now her voice almost matching that of Annie Briston she said, ‘What do you mean, Miss Briston, out begging again? I’ve never begged in me life.’
‘Well, I must be misinformed, because from what I hear you begged hard enough from Old Fanny Briggs.’
Riah stared at her. This was an open attack, no subtlety. It was as if they had met every day and were continuing a row of some sort. So she spoke plainly now, saying, ‘What are you getting at, Miss Briston? Why are you taking this attitude towards me?’
‘You know well enough why I’m taking this attitude. You’ve caused nothing but trouble since you settled yourself into Moor House.’
Trouble? What trouble had she caused up at the house? She never saw anyone to fight with except the master and Tol, and the parson, and that one visit from the lady’s maid from The Heights. What was she meaning, causing trouble? She repeated her last thoughts, saying, ‘What do you mean, causing trouble?’
‘You know what I mean all right. You’ve got our Tol not knowing whether he’s coming or going. Running back and forward like an errand boy with your wood and your milk and lifting your bairns to church, twice on a Sunday now. Then learning him to read and write. Who do you think you are anyway?’
Riah, drawing herself up and assuming a dignity she was far from feeling at the moment because she felt that she wanted to take her hand and slap this woman’s face for her, said, ‘Your brother has always delivered the milk an’ the wood. As for taking the children to church and Sunday school, he did it at the parson’s bidding. The only thing me and my family have done for him is teach him his letters.’
‘Yes, and disturb his peace thereby.’
‘How can that disturb his peace, woman?’
‘Because it’s putting ideas into his head. He’s no longer just satisfied being a forester, and he’s wastin’ time, his master’s time, and it’ll be found out. What’s more there’s things to do around the cottage. But whereas at one time he used to be outside mendin’, now he’s sittin’, his nose stuck in bairns’ books. It’s pathetic like, he’s making himself a laughing stock.’
‘Do you want to know something, Miss Briston?’ Riah didn’t wait for an answer but went on, ‘I think the only laughing stock in your household is you. What I’m just finding out must be already well known, th
at you’re an embittered old spinster an’ that you’re afraid of losing your bread support, because then you would have to go out and work for yourself like many a one better than you has had to do.’
For a moment it would appear that Annie Briston was lost for words; then, her mouth puckering, and almost spluttering, she cried, ‘Oh, you! You’ll come to a bad end. I’ve seen your like afore. You’ll come to a bad end. You mark my words.’
‘And you’ll try to see I do, won’t you? But let me tell you something, miss, I’ll be here when you’re gone. Yes, I will. I’ll be here when you’re gone.’
‘Oooh!’ It was a long, drawn-out sound, and they glared at each other as if it would take very little to make them spring. Then Annie Briston flounced around and walked back up the way she had come, and Riah sat down on the wall again because she was trembling. Oh, that woman! She was jealous, madly jealous. Well, there was one thing sure, whatever came of her association with Tol—and at times, and more often now, she was longing for it to ripen—she would never be able to share his house with that piece in it. Oh no. He’d have to make a choice. And what could he do? His hands were tied. Something like this would have to happen to spoil the day, wouldn’t it? Life never went smoothly for long. Out here in the wilds you would have thought it would be impossible to come across an adversary like Annie Briston. There were so few people in this neighbourhood, yet one of them had to be a bitch of a woman like her, because that’s what she was, a bitch.
The last word had not died in her mind when she gave a cry and sprang from the wall as a voice behind her said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is the lowest part and I usually get over here.’
She turned and in amazement saw her master making his way in between the branches of the two trees, and when he reached the wall she watched him vault it with an agility she would not have given him credit for. And when he was standing looking at her he said, ‘I arrived almost at the same time as your late companion did.’ She saw his shoulders lift, and the shrug told her that he had witnessed her meeting with Annie Briston and heard every word of it. But he made no further reference to it; instead, he looked down at the bundles placed against the wall and asked, ‘What have we here? You certainly have done some shopping.’ As he went to lift one up, she said, ‘No, I’ll carry them, sir.’
The Black Velvet Gown Page 9