The Windfell Family Secrets

by Diane Allen

  DIANE ALLEN

  The Windfell

  Family Secrets

  MACMILLAN

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  RULES TO BE OBSERVED BY THE HANDS EMPLOYED IN THIS MILL

  1

  Windfell Manor, 1882

  A warm summer’s breeze played gently with the copper-beech leaves as the carriages drew up beneath the spreading boughs of the mighty trees that lined the driveway to Windfell Manor. Soft music from the quartet that was playing inside the immaculate walled garden pleased the ears of the guests as they ascended the steps to the most prestigious house in the district of Ribblesdale, which lay in the furthest reaches of North Yorkshire. The day was one of celebration, especially for the Atkinson family, with Isabelle turning twenty-one.

  Charlotte, her mother, leaned over the bannister that swept down into the marble-floored hallway of Windfell Manor. She had hesitated on her way down to the celebration, as her eyes filled with tears when she heard the laughter and love that were being shown to her most precious daughter. The manor, she knew, was filled with well-wishers and would-be suitors for one of the most eligible young ladies in the Dales; old friends and new, as well as those with influence within local society, mingled and enjoyed the luxury of the manor and its surroundings. All for her Isabelle, the birthday girl, who had grown into a beautiful young woman, with jet-black hair and eyes as blue as the forget-me-nots that flowered profusely in the gardens outside. Her hair was the only telltale sign of her true parentage – the only visible aspect of the long-dead cad who had been her true father, Joseph Dawson.

  Charlotte fought back the tears as she remembered the year Isabelle came into the world; the horrendous murder that Isabelle’s father had committed; and her own fight to save Ferndale Mill and, with it, the realization of how dependent married women were upon their husbands. It had meant that she had to grow up quickly and become independent in her own right, fighting to keep her position as mistress of Windfell and owner of Crummock Farm. Unlike her daughter, who up to the present had led a privileged life, not wanting for anything.

  ‘Hey, what’s this? Tears on our Isabelle’s birthday – I’ll not have that.’ Archie closed their bedroom door and put his arm around the woman he loved. ‘Listen to all that giggling and cavorting. There’s no need for tears today, my love.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was just remembering when she was born, and how life was such a struggle back then. I didn’t know if I would last from one day to the next.’ Charlotte smiled weakly at Archie, her rock through all the years of despair.

  ‘And then you married me, and you have never looked back since.’ Archie squeezed her tightly to him and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘You mean I married you and got another worry.’ Charlotte smiled as she wiped away the tears, for it had been the best thing she had done in her life, despite her teasing words. ‘Where’s Danny? Is he downstairs already?’

  ‘Downstairs and out in the garden with that lass from over at Langcliffe. I watched them out of the bedroom window, holding hands and giggling as they ran to the seat under the beech tree. He takes after his father, does that one – knows how to catch a lady’s eye.’ Archie grinned.

  ‘Which lass from up Langcliffe?’ Charlotte sighed. It was true that Danny was a devil for the women; and he’d inherited Archie’s mop of blond hair, and his wicked smile made all the young women titter and giggle at the slightest glance from him.

  ‘Here, come and have a look at her, you’ll know her name, once you see her. I can’t think who she is, I think they farm up at High Winskill.’ Archie opened their bedroom door and urged Charlotte to look out of the window to view the courting couple.

  She pulled back the heavy drape of their bedroom curtains and sneaked a look at the pair sitting on the metal seat that encircled one of the beech trees in the immaculate gardens of the manor. ‘It is the lass from High Winskill. The family are called Armstrong, aren’t they? She is the youngest, Harriet; her older sister got married last year to one of the Warburtons over in Lancashire. I remember because it was a big wedding, and her mother was bragging all over Settle about how well her daughter had done to catch one of the Warburton lads, as everyone knows they aren’t short of a bob or two. You don’t think she’s after Danny for his money? I wouldn’t put it past her, if she takes after her mother.’

  ‘Now, Charlotte, stop worrying. Besides, if she is after his money, she’ll be in for a shock, for Danny hasn’t got any – not yet anyway. He’ll have to wait until after our day. And I’m not thinking of going anywhere just yet, and you look fit enough to me.’ Archie pulled her away from the window. ‘Now, let’s go down and join this party, and stop worrying about nothing. What will be will be, and you can’t keep your eye on them all the time. Think on what your father said about me; he didn’t have much faith in me, and I might not have had any money, but I knew how to make you happy. And that’s the main thing.’

  Charlotte looked back through the window as Archie urged her down the stairs and she caught just a fleeting glimpse of a stolen kiss between the lovers, who were lost in one another’s eyes. She didn’t care what Archie said; the Armstrong lass was a little too forward with her affections, for her liking.

  Archie and Charlotte walked down the sweeping staircase into the hallway, smiling at the throng of elegant, well-to-do-people who were attending the prestigious event. The ladies were dressed in luxurious gowns in all the hues of the rainbow. Their hair was adorned with feathers, and glistening jewels were draped around their slim, elegant necks. Their husbands stood like pompous penguins in their black-and-white suits, hanging on every word that was uttered, and sipping their port genteelly as they discussed the topics of the day.

  ‘Mother! Mother, look at what Robert has given me. Isn’t it just adorable?’ Isabelle pulled on Charlotte’s arm, dragging her to where a kitten was being stroked by a group of her adoring friends. ‘I’m going to call it Bobby – after Robert – and then I’ll always remember this day.’ She picked up the long-haired grey kitten and stroked its head as it mewed, distressed by all the noise and commotion around it.

  ‘Just put it down, Isabelle, before it does something on you!’ Charlotte’s face revealed what she really thought of the gift; she was not keen on cats, which belonged outside, keeping down the mouse population, and she didn’t have time for inside pets.

  ‘Oh, Mother, you are such a bore. He’s adorable – look at those eyes. How can you not fall in love with him?’ Isabelle held the kitten tightly and flashed a smile at the young man from whom she had received it.

  ‘Do you mean that cat or the man?’ Charlotte quizzed, noticing the look that passed between them.

  ‘Mother, I don’t know what you mean!’ Isabelle grinned.

  ‘I think you do. Don’t forget I was once as young as you.’ Charlotte looked at her blushing daughter and recognized a great deal of herself in the flirtatious young woman.

  ‘Yes, and look who you married: my lovely stepfather. Whom I love dearly, apart from that dratted stepbrother of mine. Have you seen him with that awful Armstrong girl? She is so common, Mother, and she is simply throwing herself at Danny.’ Isabelle petted her kitten. ‘When I find my perfect man, he’s going to be wealthy, with excellent
manners and a brain – unlike that ninny.’

  ‘Both your father and I have noticed her infatuation with your brother. We don’t know much about her, but I’m going to make it my business to do so. And you, Isabelle, must make yourself known to the rest of the room, and not just Robert Knowles. There are some very eligible young men here. That is partially what your party is for: one day Windfell will be yours, and you need the right man by your side.’ Charlotte looked sternly at her simpering daughter. If only Isabelle knew how much the grand manor of Windfell had cost her, and how much the future happiness of both children meant to both Archie and her.

  Isabelle strutted away from her mother and went to stand next to the open bay window of the drawing room. She loved her mother dearly, but everything was always about business and eligibility – had she never been young? She knew she was privileged, living in such a beautiful manor house with its sweeping gardens and grand grounds, but for just one day she wanted to flirt and enjoy herself with whomever she chose, without any thought of their connections and eligibility. She looked around the room and spotted Luke Clark: now he was one she could have a laugh with and at the same time irritate her stepbrother, as Luke was one of Danny’s close friends. She smiled to herself and walked over towards him, while the kitten was being handed to the person nearest to her.

  ‘Are you alright, Father? You look a million miles away.’ Danny spotted Archie gazing out of the window and knew that he’d rather be viewing the stock at Crummock than be in a room full of giggling youth and his stepmother’s business associates.

  ‘Aye, I’m fine, lad.’ Archie looked at his son and smiled.

  ‘Now then, Father: if you’ve got worries, heaven help the ordinary man in the street. Crummock will be alright for an odd day without you.’ Danny tried to cheer up his downcast parent.

  ‘Aye, I know, but these fancy dos are more your mother’s thing than mine. I’d rather be turning them stirks into the top pasture, away from their mothers. Anyway, enough of me and my worries. Who’s this bonny thing on your arm? You are no gentleman, Danny – you’ve not introduced us.’ Archie turned to the quietly intent girl on his son’s arm and watched as her face lit up at being introduced to her beau’s father. She was a pretty thing, there was no doubt about that. Perhaps a little plain, compared to Isabelle, but she’d a sparkle in her eyes that would capture any young man’s heart. She was dressed a little plainly, but the blue taffeta gown she wore flattered her petite figure.

  ‘This is Miss Harriet Armstrong, Father. Her parents farm at High Winskill at Langcliffe. I’ve been wanting to introduce her to you and Mother for some time, but have not had the opportunity.’ Danny held out Harriet’s hand and passed it to his father to shake, while Harriet smiled at the man she had heard Danny talk about so much.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Armstrong. I know High Winskill. Not that big a farm, and it’ll be a bit wild in winter, but you’ll have a good view of Pen-y-Ghent.’ Archie looked at the girl that his son was obviously in love with.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Mr Atkinson. Danny talks about you a great deal, he’s very proud of you. You have a beautiful home here. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place so fine.’ Harriet looked around her and her cheeks filled with colour as she tried to impress Archie.

  ‘Aye, it’s alright. It’s all my wife’s doing – she’s got a good eye for suchlike. I just let her organize it, and I concentrate on what I do on the farms, although she still keeps her hand in at the cotton mill; she’s down at Ferndale every day, making sure it runs smoothly. Do you work, Miss Armstrong, or do you help your parents at home?’ Archie waited for a reply, while noticing over Harriet’s shoulder that Charlotte was urging him to join her.

  ‘Yes, I work in the jeweller’s along Duke Street, Ezera Bloomenber’s. I’m the shop assistant there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you or Mrs Atkinson in there?’ Harriet watched as Archie failed to hide the shock on his face.

  ‘No, no, I don’t think we have ever given the Bloomenbers our business. Perhaps it is something we will have to think about.’ Archie smiled politely, recovering himself quickly. ‘I’m sorry to cut our meeting short, but if you’ll excuse me, I think my wife needs me.’ He made his excuses, patted Danny on the arm and walked over to Charlotte, to tell her his worrying news.

  ‘Well, that was my father. Sorry he didn’t stay longer, Harriet. My mother obviously needed him urgently.’ Danny smiled. ‘I think she wanted my father to join her as she talks to Hector and Lorenzo Christie. She secretly admires them both, as they are the biggest businessmen in Craven. They both dress so finely and have made themselves small fortunes. And with Lorenzo and his son Hector owning rival cotton mills to hers, Mother likes to keep them both close. So close that Hector is Isabelle’s godfather. That was good planning on my mother’s part.’

  ‘I think the Christies were an excuse for your father to leave us. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned where I worked, like you said.’ Harriet sighed.

  ‘They can take it or leave it – I love you, not where you work.’ Danny squeezed her arm and passed her another drink. ‘And I do love you, despite all our family secrets.’

  2

  Charlotte had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep for thinking of all the things that could go wrong, if Danny and Harriet Armstrong were serious about one another, and of the consequences it could have on the family. Her worries had grown out of all proportion as the night had worn on. In the darkness everything had looked so bleak, with the mill being lost for having no rightful heir after Isabelle was rejected by polite society, and Danny running off with a penniless hussy, if her worst fears were realized.

  ‘You’ve tossed and groaned all night. Even with a drink or two in me, you’ve kept me woken. I might as well get myself up and go and look at the stock at Crummock, and see what Arthur’s got to say for himself.’ Archie sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his shirt into his breeches, before pulling on his braces. He stood up and drew back the heavy drapes of their bedroom window and squinted in the morning’s sharp light, before looking at the time on the clock. ‘Six o’clock: you stop in bed for another hour, there’s no need for you to be up this early.’

  ‘Get back into bed, Archie, and I’ll get up. Although to say you’ve not slept all night – you were snoring loud enough, at one time.’ Charlotte yawned and rubbed her eyes. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry, I’m just worried about things.’ She sat up in bed and watched as Archie put on his jacket.

  ‘I told you yesterday: stop fretting, the lass from Winskill seems grand. Now, I’m off. I’ll tell Lily not to disturb you for another hour or so, if she’s up. You put your head back down and stop worrying – all will work out fine.’ He looked back at an anxious Charlotte and decided not to chance his luck with a parting kiss, as he usually did every morning, for fear of her trying to change his mind.

  ‘What about your breakfast?’ Charlotte asked, as Archie made for the door.

  ‘I’ll have it up at Crummock. Mary will not see me go hungry.’ He closed the door quietly behind him and was glad that he had the excuse of Crummock to escape to.

  ‘You are up early, sir.’ The scullery maid stopped and tidied her mob cap and wiped her face, as she was caught unawares carrying a bucket of ashes across the hallway.

  Archie picked up his riding crop from the hall stand and looked at the young lass in front of him. ‘Aye, couldn’t sleep. The mistress won’t need Lily yet, although she’s wide awake. I’ve told her there’s no need for both of us to be up and going. I’ve told her to lie in until her usual time; she’ll happen get an hour’s peace, if I’m gone and not snoring next to her.’ He hesitated as he drew back the bolt on the front door. ‘You’d better tell Cook there’s one less for breakfast.’

  ‘I will, sir. Enjoy your day.’ Eve, the parlour maid, curtsied, before picking up the bucket of ashes and disappearing downstairs to tell Mrs Batty, the cook, and her helper Ruby Baxter that there would be one less for breakfa
st. Then she passed on the rest of the information to Lily.

  Archie walked across the yard to the stables and opened the door. The smell of horse sweat and polished leather hit his nostrils, and his bay horse whinnied at the sight of its master.

  Jethro, the groom and stablehand, watched motionless and unnoticed as his master patted and whispered sweet nothings to the horse he loved. His dark, swarthy looks blended into the darkness of the tack-room. Jethro had served the Atkinsons as man and boy and now, at the age of nearly forty, he was still as fit and handsome as ever, turning many a woman’s head, but always keeping himself to himself, preferring his own company.

  ‘By, she loves you – that is a fact, sir.’ Jethro walked out of the shadows and made himself known to his master.

  ‘I sometimes think she’s the only woman who does, Jethro. As long as I live, I will never know how a woman’s mind works.’ Archie leaned on the stall gate and patted his horse.

  ‘Why do you think I’m single, sir? Women baffle me too, never can figure them out. I’d rather have my women with four legs, too. I take it you need this one saddling?’ Jethro unbolted the stable door and led Sheba, Archie’s favourite mare, out of her stall, before reaching for her saddle and harness.

  ‘Aye, let me go somewhere I know something about and get up to the farm. I’ll be back later this afternoon. The mistress will need the gig later this morning; she’ll be off to Ferndale. Can you make sure it’s ready for her?’ Archie waited until Jethro had prepared his horse and then he led it out and pulled himself up into the saddle.

  ‘Will do, sir.’ Jethro looked at the gentleman farmer and watched as he trotted out of the yard. You’d have to travel a good distance to get a better master than Archie Atkinson, and he was lucky to work for such a straight-talking man.

  Charlotte lay in her bed and watched the clouds scuttling across the greyness of the early-morning sky. She couldn’t get back to sleep, for her mind was too busy ticking over things. She’d dress herself, and not wait for Lily to help her with her toilet and dress. Throwing back the covers, she sighed as she looked at the stays that really needed two pairs of hands to lace them up. Reaching for her dressing gown, she decided to have a wash and to brush her hair, if nothing else, before Lily’s arrival; then stopped in her tracks as she realized there was no warm water in the empty jug and bowl on her washstand. How had she become so dependent on servants? She looked at the empty jug and thought fleetingly about investing in one of those newfangled bathrooms that all the best people were installing in their homes. That would save the constant running back and forth for endless hot water for the tin baths in which the household bathed, and for water in which to wash in the morning. Mrs Batty and the kitchen staff would appreciate having hot water on tap, instead of having to use the boiler in the outhouse every day, she was sure; she would have to discuss it with Archie later.