***
Jessica didn’t feel like being alone. She needed to talk to someone and the only person she ever spoke to about private things was Catherine. Just as she reached the top of the High Street, Jessica caught sight of her friend, outside Evergreen House, where Michael Kimpton lived with his mother and father. It stood on its own in Church Lane, about two hundred yards before the church, with Church Cottage, the home of the Langleys in between.
Michael’s father was the blacksmith and his forge was in the grounds of Evergreen House. He did all the iron work for the village, as well as shoeing all the equines in the region and Michael had grown up helping him.
Catherine and Michael were holding hands, making Jessica wish she was doing that with Simon. They stopped and kissed briefly, making Jessica gasp. Simon had kissed her, lots of times, but not outside where everyone could see. Michael’s mother was all in favour of the relationship; she knew it was Catherine and his love for her that had done wonders for her son, kept him on the straight and narrow and away from acts of a criminal nature.
If only Catherine’s parents were in favour, they could be married now. But her parents were set against Michael, thought he was likely to return to his criminal ways and they wanted their daughter to marry someone more important and with more money.
The next house along, closer to the church, was Church Cottage, where Susan Langley lived with her mother. No one really knew what had happened to her father; no one remembered ever seeing him. Mrs Langley had moved into the house some fourteen years before and there was always only her and Susan, and Mrs Langley was hardly ever seen away from the property.
Now, as Jessica rested against the big oak tree and waited for her friend, she saw Susan in the front garden and she was leaning on her fence and staring at the couple. She was probably staring at Michael, as she had that dreamy look in her eyes.
She wasn’t pretty, but not ugly either. She was what might be called ‘plain’, with her light brown hair and hazel eyes, lips that were too thick and a figure that was fuller than it should be compared to her height of under five feet.
Today, she was wearing a faded summer dress that was too tight. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a corset, but Jessica couldn’t blame her for that. It wasn’t really necessary when all she seemed to be doing was weeding the garden.
Catherine thought it amusing, the way Susan flirted with Michael, but Jessica knew she would be furious if any girl had done that with Simon. Still, one had to feel sorry for her, all alone with just her mother and no friends to speak of.
Finally, Michael and Catherine parted, him going inside the house while she began to walk slowly toward Jessica. She looked up and waved enthusiastically, then her footsteps quickened when she got close enough to see Jessica’s gloomy expression.
She reached out her hands as she approached and took her friend’s.
“Whatever’s wrong?” she asked.
They both sat on the grass beneath the oak tree and Jessica felt those damned tears brimming again. She wiped them away with her fingers before she spoke.
“Simon’s gone,” Jessica said.
“Gone? Gone where?”
“He’s left,” said Jessica. She passed her friend the letter she had received that morning from Simon. “He’s ill,” she went on. “He doesn’t want me to have to nurse him.”
Catherine quickly read the letter and her heart sank. She thought the man was going to make Jessica happy, thought he was going to take her away from the drudgery of caring for her father. And now he was gone?
“I don’t understand,” she said. “How can he be ill? Surely you would have seen it before.”
“He’s been keeping it from me,” said Jessica. “He didn’t want to worry me, but then he went to see a specialist in London and he told him there was nothing they could do and that he only had a few weeks left.” She broke off to control her quivering voice. “He didn’t want me to see him get weaker, didn’t want me to have to nurse him.”
“He might have gone after the wedding,” said Catherine. “At least then you would have been able to hold up your head as a widow.”
“No, Catherine,” said Jessica. “He didn’t want me to have to go into mourning for a year and he didn’t want me to have to nurse him. I told you. He has left before he gets that ill. He was thinking of me.”
Catherine squeezed her friend’s hand and gently kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” said Jessica. “I’m sorry to put all this on you, but I’ve no one else to talk to. I saw you with Michael; you are so lucky.”
“If you can keep a secret,” said Catherine. “We are seriously thinking about going up to Gretna Green to be married now.”
“Catherine!” said Jessica. “Your mother will never speak to you again!”
“Well, I can’t worry about her, can I? I’ve got to put Michael first. Mother would have me married off to that new bloke next door if she had her way.” She paused and grinned mischievously. “Now that you’ve snared the Earl, that is,” she said.
Catherine closed her eyes for a second and sighed impatiently.
“What am I going to do about that, Catherine?” she said. “How am I ever going to tell Father it was never His Lordship? He’s told everyone; he even thinks he’s going to retire early with a suite of rooms at the Castle.”
“Well, that’s his own fault,” said Catherine. “Nobody told him it was the Earl you were walking out with and nobody told him to go bragging to everyone. My mother used to be friendly with him and your mother, but since he started his bragging, she won’t even speak to him.”
“I wish he didn’t have to find out,” said Jessica. “But I’m not bothered about him at the moment. I don’t know what I’m going to do without Simon and I so want to be with him. I want to help him through his last days, but he won’t allow it.”
“And you’ve no idea where he might have gone?”
“No. I don’t even know if he’s got any family,” said Jessica. “He’s never mentioned anyone.”
“I can’t believe you were going to marry him without even knowing if he had parents still living,” said Catherine.
Jessica shrugged.
“It just never came up,” she said. “We had other things to think about, I suppose.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow.
“Really?” she said. “You haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t, have you?”
Jessica flushed a bright crimson, but she wasn’t about to confess the details of last Sunday, not even to her best friend.
“Don’t be daft,” she said.
Along the High Street, Catherine spotted Jack Milligan standing outside his cottage, his hand raised over his eyes to block out the bright sunlight, his other hand waving and beckoning.
“I think your father wants you,” said Catherine.
Jessica felt a surge of resentment. Couldn’t she even have a few minutes to chat with her friend without him wanting something? Little wonder her mother took to her bed.
The two girls got to their feet, brushed the moisture from the grass from their skirts and looped arms to walk back to their respective homes.
“You’ll have to tell him,” said Catherine. “Especially now.”
“I suppose I will,” said Jessica.
But her mind was busy thinking of ways she could avoid that, no matter how bizarre they might seem.
“Come on, girl,” said Jack as soon as she got close enough. “I want my supper.”
That’s it, Jessica thought. That’s all I am to him, someone to cook and clean and do his laundry.
She had believed Simon would take her away from this, would make her his wife and take her to his cottage in the Castle grounds. He would make love to her and they would be happy for ever. Now all she had to look forward to was more drudgery for her father. Something would have to be done about him.
“Where you been?” he said with a smile she was not used to seeing. “You been up at the castle, setting the date? I saw
you up there, with His Lordship.”
She stared for a moment, wondering what he was talking about. Then she remembered Lord Harrisford, lifting her hand to his lips. He had seen! Father had seen and now he was even more convinced that she was about to become Lady Harrisford.
“Well?” said Jack. “What’s the date? You need to get the invitations out. There’s lots of people I want to invite.”
“You? Who can you possibly have to invite?”
“I’ve got friends,” he said belligerently. “And I’ve got something to tell you.”
She realised they were still standing outside the cottage, in their tiny front garden, and now people were coming out of their cottages further along the High Street. They were pretending to pull weeds or cut flowers, but their real reason for being there was to eavesdrop on the conversation.
She brushed past her father and went indoors; he followed.
“Well?” she said as she sat at the table and looked up at him. “What do you have to tell me?”
He slid into the chair opposite her and faced her with a coy look that made her cringe.
“Do you remember Mrs Atkin, the widow of that horse hair curler who was killed?” he said.
Jessica nodded.
“What about her?”
“I’ve been walking out with her,” he said, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’ve been thinking about asking her to marry me.”
Jessica could scarcely believe her ears. Who in their right mind would want to marry him?
“So,” she said. “When I go and you’ve got no one to skivvy for you, you think you’d better find a replacement a bit quick. Is that it?”
“Course not. I won’t be needing none of that, will I?” He pushed himself to his feet and stood, looking down at her. “I’ll be living up at the Castle and we’ll have people to do all that for us.”
Jessica’s head sank into her hands, almost involuntarily. Something had to be done about this, but she still had formed no clear plan as to what that something might be.
“Anyway,” he said. “That’s my news and you haven’t told me what date you’ve settled on.”
She lifted her head wearily. All she really wanted was to be alone with her grief, but here was this silly little man trying to drag her into his fairy tale. At last she made up her mind.
“There isn’t going to be any wedding, Dad,” she said.
“What?” he demanded. “What d’ya mean no wedding?”
“The wedding’s off,” she said.
He made no response for a few minutes then he banged his fist down onto the table, making it jump an inch off the ground and causing Jessica to leap to her feet in alarm.
“He can’t do that!” Jack shouted. Jessica was sure that all the neighbours could hear him. “He can’t do that to my girl! What’s gone on? That’s what I want to know. What did you do to make him change his mind?”
Jessica felt sure that if there ever had been an engagement to the Earl, her father’s boasting around the town would have certainly put him off.
“Why are you so sure it was him that called it off?” she said.
“Cos it’s bleeding obvious,” said Jack. “You wouldn’t have called it off, would you? No woman would turn down the Earl and everything he has to offer. Obvious.”
Was there any point in arguing about it? She was still not ready to tell him there had never been an engagement to the Earl in the first place; that was a confession too far.
“Wedding’s off,” she said. “That’s an end to it.”
“Not likely,” said Jack. “What do you think people’ll say? I’ll be a laughing stock.”
You already are, thought Jessica. But she didn’t give voice to the words; she wasn’t quite that brave.
“I’m not having it,” said Jack. “We’ll sue him, that’s what we’ll do. Sue him for breach of promise. We can do that. We can get a lot of money.”
“Who’s this we you’re talking about?” said Jessica. “This is my problem; it’s nothing to do with you.”
“I’m your father, young lady, and you’ll show me some respect.”
“I can’t take him to court,” she said. “That costs a lot of money and you don’t have it. I decided I don’t want to marry him. He’s too weird.”
“Weird? What d’ya mean weird?”
“He lives in that big house, he’s got no indoor servants and everyone says its haunted.”
“Well, that’s just stupid,” said Jack. “I don’t believe you broke off the engagement. You’re just saying that to save face. I’ll see a solicitor tomorrow about it; I’ll make sure he does the right thing, don’t you worry, girl.”
She turned away, took the bucket outside to fill from the village pump. She could stand no more of her father’s ranting, but the mood he was in now, she wouldn’t put it past him to go up to the Castle and confront Lord Harrisford. She had to stop that from happening.
As she was standing at the pump, transfixed by the shining water flowing into the bucket, her mind was busy. Her mother’s death was still vivid in her memory; but that had been easy. Amelia had taken to her bed, first with a cold, later because she rather liked being waited on. Feeding her a bit more laudanum every day was no hardship. Jessica had started doing that so she could have some peace from the continually needy woman and from the resentment. Jessica was sure that Amelia always waited until she had reached the bottom of the stairs before deciding she needed something else.
This was different. Jack wasn’t ill, had never pretended to be ill. But he had to be stopped from interfering in Jessica’s life and he had to be kept from confronting his employer and landlord with a complaint that was completely unfounded.
He had to be kept from knowing what an idiot he had made of himself.
***
The new neighbour at number 3 seemed to be making himself amiable to everyone in the village and even the newer houses. He seemed harmless enough, although Catherine wasn’t keen on his constant mention of his trust fund and how much money he had. She already knew he was a liar and if he had so much money, he would hardly be living in a tiny rented cottage with no modern comforts.
Some of the bigger houses in Knight’s Acre were having electricity installed and Catherine would have loved that. But her father said it was dangerous, that it could set them all on fire without warning. It didn’t matter what Catherine said to reassure him, he wouldn’t have it and she could hardly tell him she knew it was safe because Michael’s parents had it at Evergreen House. He would have had a fit if he’d known she had even been there.
Her parents were getting to know Frederick Stanley well enough, since they had invited him to dinner on more than one occasion and he had taken to walking home from church with them every Sunday.
It was some two months since he had moved in and today as he accompanied them home from church, Catherine was annoyed. She wanted a private talk with her parents and she certainly didn’t need him hanging round.
She wanted to make it clear to them that she was going to marry Michael Kimpton and if they didn’t give their consent, she would wait till she was of age. Her mother had still not spoken to Jessica or her father and occasionally grumbled about it. Catherine tried to take no notice, but it wasn’t easy.
“That wedding hasn’t happened yet, I see,” said Mary Simmons over dinner. She glanced at Frederick, too busy tucking into his meal to show any interest. “Do you think he’s ditched her?”
Though desperate to tell her there was never any engagement to the Earl in the first place, Catherine was silenced by the knowledge that her mother’s belief was to her advantage. It kept her from giving Catherine grief about him.
“Well?” said Mary. “You must know. You’re her friend.”
“She doesn’t tell me everything, Mother,” said Catherine. “Besides, I haven’t had much time to see her lately. Not privately, anyway.”
“Well,” said Frederick. “That was a lovely meal, Mrs Simmons. As always. My friend, Cha
rles, couldn’t serve better and he owns the Mulberry Hotel in London. He’s very wealthy.”
The Mulberry Hotel was one of the most expensive hotels in the west end of London, one everyone in the country had heard of it, even poor folk. It was one of the places where all the top people stayed when they visited the capital and it would have cost a month’s rent for the Simmonses to stay there for one night.
Mary Simmons simpered at the compliment but Catherine stared at him in wonder. Why did every word he uttered have something to do with money or important people?
“Tell me, Mr Stanley,” she said. “What was it you actually did for the Queen?”
“I helped the late Prince with his plans for the railways,” he replied with a self satisfied smile. “He told me he couldn’t have managed without me.”
“Really?” said Catherine. “He said that, did he?”
“He most certainly did,” said Frederick.
“There, Catherine,” said her mother. “How interesting is that? And so exciting, to know someone who was so close to the Prince.”
Catherine made no reply. She knew Frederick was making it up as he went along; he couldn’t have been more than ten years old when the Prince passed away and her mother should realise that. She decided to make it her mission to discover who owned the Mulberry Hotel, as she didn’t believe for one minute it was anyone Frederick Stanley knew.
She got to her feet and reached for her shawl.
“I’m going out,” she said. “I’ll finish the clearing up when I come back.”
“You’re not going to see that boy, I hope,” said Tom Simmons, for once voicing his own opinion.
“What boy would that be, Father?” said Catherine.
“You know,” he said. “That Kimpton boy.”
“That’s all finished,” said his wife.
Catherine stared at her, astonished.
“Why do you say that, Mother?” she asked.
“Well, I told you not to see him again, didn’t I?” said Mary. “I told you to forget all about him, that you can do a lot better. I assume you’ve done as you’re told and stopped seeing him.”
Catherine was astounded, both at the assumption and that they would start this argument in front of an outsider. She said nothing, but only because Frederick was there and she was too well mannered to argue before him.
Knight's Acre: Till Death Do Us Part Page 8