The Black Velvet Gown

Home > Romance > The Black Velvet Gown > Page 15
The Black Velvet Gown Page 15

by Catherine Cookson


  At this point her thinking was stopped by a question. Would Tol let them take to the road again, or would he offer them shelter? But were he to do that, could she take it, knowing that she would have to share it with his sister? She didn’t know. She only knew she was so tired, so wrought up and so frightened at the consequences that might fall on Davey. And besides this, she was ashamed, ashamed that she had waited for a man to come to her last night, when there hadn’t been a man to come to her. It was more than an hour and a half later when Tol returned; but without Davey. And when she gasped, ‘You haven’t found him?’ he put in quietly, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right. He’s safe enough.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In my cottage.’

  ‘Why didn’t he come with you?’

  At this he looked towards the still figure on the table and said slowly, ‘He won’t come back here any more, Riah. He swears on that. He told me he did it, but why, he didn’t say. Perhaps you’ll tell me.’

  Her hand was tight on her throat and she swallowed deeply a number of times before she said, ‘The master had promised him a pony. Then he…he didn’t get it, and Davey was upset.’

  ‘Good God! He didn’t do that just because he was upset over a pony?’

  ‘Well, I…I don’t know. The master must have got hold of him. Tried to hold him, Davey said. He’s sort of possessive like of him.’

  Tol stared at her for a long moment before he said, ‘Oh.’ Then after a pause, he added, ‘Nevertheless, he shouldn’t have struck out like that. No, no.’

  ‘What’ll happen to him? He must come back.’

  ‘He won’t; no, he won’t come back. But don’t worry; he can stay with me for as long as he likes. And…and I’ve had an idea. Up at the house, they’re wantin’ a young stable lad; they’ve taken on another three horses and the work’s heavy. The youngsters are riding now. I could get him set on there, I’m pretty sure. And from what I gather he seems crazy to work with horses.’

  ‘Yes, yes’—she nodded her head slowly—‘he’s crazy to work with horses. Oh yes’—she repeated her words—‘he’s crazy to work with horses.’ Then bowing her head, she burst into body-shaking sobs, and when she felt his arms about her, she leant against him, muttering, ‘Oh, Tol. Oh, Tol. What’s to become of us?’

  He said nothing, just looked over her head as he stroked her hair with one hand while pressing her tightly to him with the other.

  When her crying eased, he led her to the couch that had been pushed to one side, and having pressed her down on to it, he sat beside her and, taking her hands, he whispered, ‘Don’t worry about that.’ Then looking towards the table, he said, ‘He didn’t give the lad away. He must care about him. About all of you, particularly you. I was getting the idea he might be more than fond of you…’

  At this her manner changed and, leaning towards him and her voice a low hiss now, she brought a look of surprise to his face as she said, ‘Well, your idea is as far out as the moon from the earth, see, because he’s no man, he’s not natural. That’s why he liked Davey. Said he wanted to be a father to him. Father, huh! He wants bairns but can’t take a woman.’ As if she knew she’d gone too far she clapped her hand over her mouth and bowed her head; but in a moment he brought it upwards again as he said, ‘It comes as no real news to me, Riah; I guessed there must be something like that for a man like him to hide himself away an’ to be so against bairns, then take yours as he did. I’m sorry for him, Riah.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh yes’—he nodded slowly at her—‘I can say that again, I’m sorry for him. I think he’s been putting up a fight for many a long day, but when somebody as bonny lookin’ as Davey was thrust afore his eyes, it was too much for him. There are men like him; it isn’t unknown. No, no, it isn’t unknown. There’s one in the village now. Lived with his mother for years, then got friendly with another fellow from Gateshead. ’Twas then Parson Weeks wouldn’t let him in the church.’

  She stared at him now in hostility as she said, ‘You talk as if you were on their side.’

  He smiled softly at her now as he said, ‘You’ve told me you’ve had eight bairns, yet you’re a very innocent woman, Riah. You don’t know much about life, do you, an’ what goes on, although you were brought up in the town. People get the impression that we’re all numskulls, we in the country. My! My! The gentry live in the country, you know, half the year, and if you knew what went on in some of these big houses round about, it would raise your scalp. He’s’—he nodded his head again towards the table—‘an innocent compared with some men. Well, the boss, Mr Anthony, he may not be like his father or his grandfather but he has a good try at times. But his grandfather who died some twenty years ago, and I remember seeing him, he was frisky to the end, but in his heyday, he never allowed one of his men to be married unless he first tried the bride. Oh…oh, don’t look so shocked, Riah. Mr Anthony’s father died in the hunting field one morning after carousing all night with a bevy of ladies he and his pals had brought from the town. His wife, madam, is still alive and kickin’, she’s coming up eighty. She lives in the west wing and still rules the roost. Oh’—he smiled quietly—‘there’s lots of things happen in the country, Riah. Havin’ said that, I know this business has come as a shock to you and I don’t know what the outcome of it’s gona be. But whatever it is, my dear’—he stroked her hand now between his—‘don’t worry. Things will pan out. They always do if you wait long enough, things pan out. Now look, go and see the bairns off to bed then settle yourself down for the night. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘No’—she shook her head—‘I’ll take me turn.’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m a light sleeper. I’ll sleep on here’—he patted the couch—‘and I’m only a hand width away from him, and if he stirs I’ll hear him.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’ He rose to his feet, pulling her upwards, but he did not attempt to kiss her, and at this particular moment it didn’t seem to matter because, in a way now, she felt safe. When she left here she knew where they would go, Annie Briston or no Annie Briston.

  Nine

  They had brought a single bed down into the drawing room and Percival Miller had been lying on it for three weeks; and today, on Doctor Pritchard’s suggestion, he had attempted, for the first time, to walk, with disastrous results, for he fell on to his side and had to be helped by the doctor back on to the bed. But the doctor’s voice was cheerful and reassuring as he did so: ‘Oh, that’s usual, don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’ll send you a crutch along. That’ll help you in the meantime. But the wound has healed marvellously. A good job done, although I say it myself.’

  ‘I can’t bend my hip, not even when I’m lying here.’ The words were full of bitterness, and the doctor replied, ‘That’s natural too. Even if you hadn’t had such an injury, lying on your back all this time would stiffen your limbs. Make yourself move about in the bed, that’ll help. Anyway, it’s up to you now.’

  ‘What is up to me? Whether I walk or not?’

  ‘Yes, yes, just that, whether you walk or not. But there’s nothing to stop you if you persevere. The sinews weren’t cut, for which you can be thankful. It’s as well you were such a ham-fist at scything, for if you had swung it with any force it would likely have gone right through you. So you’ve got that to be thankful for. Well now, I must be off. By the way’—he put his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper—‘that’s my bill. I’ll leave it there.’ He laid it on a side table, then added, ‘I’ll collect it next time I come, which should be towards the end of the week. Now keep trying, that’s a good fellow, keep trying. Good day.’

  During all this Riah had been standing some distance away from the bed, and now Percival turned his face towards her, crying, ‘Did you ever hear the like?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and he’s right.’

  ‘What do you mean, he’s right?’

  ‘You’ve got to make an effort…you’ll just have to
make an effort.’

  ‘Just have to?’

  ‘Yes, I said, just have to, because you’re soon to be on your own, I’m goin’.’

  She watched him press himself upwards with his good arm, then half lean out of the bed; and, his face screwed up as if in inquiry, he said, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard what I said, sir. I’m goin’. Me and the bairns, we’re goin’.’

  ‘You mean, you’re walking out and leaving me here helpless like this?’

  ‘You can get Fanny back, or someone from the village. There are two girls down there back from place I’ve heard.’

  She watched him flop back on to the pillows, but his head was still turned towards her as he said, ‘You would leave me at the mercy of old Fanny, or some halfwit of a girl from the village? You would do that?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh!’ She tossed her head. ‘Do you need to ask? You know why, because I cannot bear to be near you. Have I to say it? You’re not natural, you’re…you’re dirty.’ Following the last word her lips had puckered, but now they sprang apart and she actually jumped as he flung his good leg over the side of the bed and, bringing himself upright, he screamed at her, ‘Don’t you dare apply that word to me, woman! Do you hear? Never! Never say such a thing again. What I felt for your son was good. I would never have hurt him.’

  Her courage coming back, she now yelled, ‘I’ve only your word for that!’

  He looked from side to side as if he wanted to get his hand on something to throw at her; then of a sudden his body went limp, his shoulders slumped, his head drooped on to his chest; and he stayed like that for some moments before he said, ‘Woman…woman, I’ll never be able to make you understand, or anyone else for that matter. I was deluded into thinking that you did. I loved the boy. I still do, in spite of what he did to me. I loved him as I might have done a son.’

  He now slowly raised his head upwards and his voice took on the same tone that it did when he was talking to the children: ‘There are all kinds of love, Riah,’ he said. ‘Whoever gave us our beings…our feelings, didn’t cut us all to the same pattern; here and there he diverged. In the main it was directed that a man should simply love a woman, but then something was left out of a few of us, or, as I like to think, added to our mentality; and we could not only love a woman, but love our own kind. As I think I’ve already told you, I’ve never loved any woman other than my mother, but at times I’ve thought I could love you, Riah. Yes, yes, I’ve said this before, so don’t look like that. But again my pattern was cut differently. My love has never flown to a man in all his gross coarseness, but to the being he was in all purity before his maleness swamped all sensitivity in him. I have always loved beauty in whatever form it takes.’ He paused, then shook his head slowly as he said, ‘You do not understand, do you?’

  No, she didn’t understand. Yet she was wild at herself that some part of her was now feeling sorry for him and was thinking, if only he wasn’t what he was, because she had liked him so much and had been willing to like him more.

  If he had come to her that night she wore the black velvet gown, this awful business might never have happened, everything would have been changed, been normal like. But as he had said, he wasn’t that kind of a man.

  A thought stabbed her like a sharp knife now: That’s what he had given her the gown for, sort of payment for Davey. My God! Yes, yes, when she came to think of it. He had imagined she had understood the whole situation and he had paid her for her son with his mother’s black velvet gown. He may not, as he’d said, have harmed him, but he had in a way meant to take him over, not only with all this education, but as a parent, and eventually she, being a comparatively ignorant woman, would have been completely ousted from her son’s life. She seemed to rear up as she said, ‘Well, understanding or no understanding, it’s as I said, we’re goin’.’

  ‘No, you’re not, Riah.’ His voice had changed, the patient schoolmaster tone was replaced by a slow definite firm statement.

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Oh, yes I can.’ He now hitched himself to an easier position on the side of the bed before he spoke again, and he continued in the same tone as he went on, ‘You attempt to leave me and I’ll immediately inform the justices that your son attacked me, and you know what the result of that would be.’

  Yes, yes, she knew what the result of that would be only too well, but she thrust the thought aside as she cried back at him, ‘If you did that he has only to say that he was defending himself, and there’s good, honest, God-fearing men among the justices.’

  ‘There may be, but it would be his word against mine and defending himself against what? I had promised him a pony and because of my reduced circumstances was unable to fulfil my promise. My solicitor will bear this out. Also, there is no smirch against my name: I am known as a scholastic recluse and come of a very good family, what you, Riah, would call a God-fearing family. More so, I left no trace of my weakness in Oxford.’ His voice changed a little now and became more grim as he said, ‘I fought my weakness there. As the Bible would put it, I flew temptation, and therefore, I do not consider myself unclean or dirty as you suggest.’

  He now attempted to stand upright, then hopped on one foot and eased himself back into bed while she stood staring fixedly at him, her hands clenched in front of her waist, her lips pressed tight. When he had settled against the pillows he let out a long slow breath before he said, ‘Your boy has been with Tol, so Tol told me, and has started this week at The Heights. It’s a good beginning; he wanted horses, he’ll have his fill of them up there. But how long he remains there rests entirely with you, Riah.’

  She seemed to have to drag the words up from her stomach and her voice cracked as she said, ‘If, as you say, you care so much for him, you…you couldn’t do anything to hurt him, not like…well…’

  ‘Not like having him transported or sent to the House of Correction?’ He was looking towards her now, and he said, ‘Oh, yes, I could…and I would go to any lengths in order to keep you here…and the children…Oh! Oh!’—he lifted his hand—‘You needn’t worry about them being contaminated, my eyes don’t see them, my feelings are not touched by them at all. The two younger ones I see as grubby little urchins, even when they are clean. As for Biddy, I sometimes think it’s a pity she wasn’t born male, because what good is the knowledge that she soaks up like a sponge going to be to her? If she marries one of her own kind she’ll despise him and there’s no hope of her ever marrying her mental equal. But whether I continue to coach her or not, she will learn for herself. She has the grounding on which to build and she is of the type that will use it. I don’t envy her her life. So you need not worry about the other three sparrows, Riah. But to return to David’s future. It all depends upon you, because should you leave me and go to Tol, and it is to him you would go, because he feels for you, I’ve known this for some time, then I will do exactly as I say. I swear to you, Riah, on your God, I will do exactly as I say…’

  She didn’t know how she reached the kitchen and when she got there she didn’t know for how long she sat staring into the fire, nor how many times her mind had repeated, Yes, he would, he’d do it. She could still see the look in his eyes as she’d backed from him and fled from the room.

  What kind of a man was he anyway? She didn’t see him as an ordinary human being, but part pitiable creature, someone who needed comfort, mothering, loving, and part devil, cold, calculating. The opposing natures couldn’t fit any other person she had met in her life before. They were two extremes, but they fitted him all right. And so she was stuck here. No Tol, no security…no love, no easing of the want in her that could go on for years. She had lost her son. Yes, she had lost him as sure as…as if he had been transported, because each time they had met since that fateful day he seemed to be more distant. And the night before he had gone to take up his new post he had said to her, ‘You’re not gona stay with him, are you, Ma?’ And she ha
d said, ‘No. As soon as he can walk I’m coming down here to Tol’s.’ Then not knowing how to put her next words to him, she had begun, ‘There’s…there’s something that you must…well, you must do, you must be careful of…you mustn’t ever give a hint that…well, the master…you know what I mean, that the master liked you, because if you did people would put two and two together and come up with the wrong thing. And…and if his name was smirched he’d likely…well—’ She did not know what made her say the next words, but she said them, ‘he’d likely turn on you, just to protect himself and his name and you could be up before the justice.’

  Davey had hung his head as he muttered, ‘I know, Ma. I know. And there’s another thing. I’m sorry I did it. But he wanted to fondle me like. I don’t suppose I’d’ve minded if I’d got the pony, but I was so disappointed. And anyway, I thought he was drunk…’

  She had stared at him in amazement as her mind repeated his words, I don’t suppose I’d’ve minded if I’d got the pony. She hadn’t heard wrong, that’s what he had said; in plain words he would have accepted the master’s attitude towards him, as long as he gave him what he wanted. It came to her that she didn’t know what went on in her son’s head, but she refused to dwell on it, except to allow herself to think, He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

  She was brought out of her reveries by the far door in the kitchen opening, and Biddy came running towards her, crying, ‘Master’s on the floor in the drawing room an’ he can’t get up. I was passing and I peeped in the door. He…he was thumping the floor with his fist.’

 

‹ Prev