As they approached the cottage that had been Catherine’s home for twenty years, he could see her fiddling with her wedding band. It was only a plain, gold ring, but it had cost every penny he had saved up. He wished he could have bought her something better, but she was happy with it and that was all that mattered.
The next step was the hardest.
Mary Simmons must have seen them coming because she opened the door when they were halfway down the path. She stared at the couple as though she had never seen them before, glanced from one to the other, then gave Catherine a look of sheer fury and contempt before reaching out to grab her arm and pull her inside.
She tried to shut the door then, to keep Michael out, but he put his foot in the way and stepped inside behind Catherine.
“You get out of my house!” yelled Mary. “We don’t want you here. You’re not welcome. My girl’s all set to wed Mr Jameson and I’ll not have you spoiling it.” She turned to Catherine, her fingers digging painfully into her daughter’s arm. “Where’ve you been? I hope you haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t.”
Michael reached out and gripped Mary’s wrist, pinched hard to find the nerve that would loosen her grip on Catherine.
“Let go of my wife,” he said quietly, but in a tone that would brook no argument.
Mary Simmons dropped her daughter’s arm, leaving her to rub the soreness that had erupted there.
“Your wife?” she said. Her gaze turned back to Catherine. “What does he mean, wife? Just where have you been since Sunday? Do you have any idea how you embarrassed me, leaving like that, just when everyone was congratulating me and your father?”
“I’ve been to Scotland, Mother,” said Catherine, moving closer to Michael. “With Michael.” She held out her left hand to show her wedding ring. “We are married.”
Mary stepped back, collided with a chair and sank into it, her thoughts busy with ideas to unmarry them.
“You can’t do that,” she said at last. “You need your father’s permission till you’re twenty-one. We’ve been over this before.”
“Not in Gretna Green, I don’t,” said Catherine. “That’s why we went there. How could you think I might marry Mr Jameson, when you know I love Michael?”
Mary was shaking, her whole body trembling and her teeth chattered as she tried to speak.
“You embarrassed me,” said Mary.
“You embarrassed yourself,” said Catherine. “I’d already turned down Mr Jameson’s proposal, but you went ahead and had the banns read. What did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought you’d respect our wishes,” said Mary. “I believed you’d not want the embarrassment once the banns were read and everybody was expecting a wedding.”
Michael laughed then. He had kept quiet so far, respecting the fact that Catherine knew her parents better than he and she could stick up for herself. But this last was just too amusing to be ignored.
“Don’t you know your daughter at all?” he demanded.
“I’m sure we know her better than you,” answered Mary.
“Obviously not,” he said. “If you think she’d marry a man she’d already refused, just to save your face, you really don’t know anything about her. We are married now; I am your son-in-law, whether you like it or not. So let’s have no more trying to match her up with someone else.”
His words seemed to give Mary back some of her obstinacy. She pushed herself to her feet and clapped her fists firmly on her hips.
“It won’t stand,” she said. “I’ll go to the law. Catherine’s under age; we must be able to do something to get it annulled.”
It took a lot to make Michael angry and it didn’t happen often, but now this woman’s refusal to accept the inevitable was irritating him. He knew a little about the law; he had thought of studying it until life and his own stupidity got in the way.
“I believe the accepted grounds for annulment are limited,” he said. “I seem to recall that one of those grounds is if the marriage is without the bride’s consent; that doesn’t apply here. The other is if the marriage has not yet been consummated; that also doesn’t apply here.”
Catherine turned her head to hide a smile, buried her face in his chest. One of the things she loved about Michael was that he refused to have any regard to what he called silly conventions. Most men would not dream of mentioning such intimate things, especially before his wife’s mother.
Mary Simmons’ face had turned a bright shade of crimson. That she was more shocked than she had ever been was obvious, but she hadn’t given up the fight quite yet.
“Where do you think you are going to live?” she demanded. “You’re not coming back here, so don’t think you are.”
“With my parents,” said Michael. “They, at least, have made us welcome.”
***
Jessica had never felt so miserable, or so alone. She had been made to hold her little daughter, made to feed her and she would have gladly given anything to keep her.
But that was not an option. She would be shunned; she would not be able to find work, or even a place to live. Mrs Kimpton would look after her, Jessica knew that, and she wondered only briefly if she might ever return to Knight’s Acre. But that, too, was out of the question.
It might have been possible, if nobody found out about the baby, but not now her father had spoken to the Earl. Mrs Kimpton said it was only Catherine who had overheard him and she had said nothing to anyone, but it couldn’t be long before the whole village knew the truth. The humiliation might kill him, but even if it didn’t, she would never be welcomed back.
Yet it wasn’t her fault; it was his. He should have asked, not jumped to conclusions. Anyway, to be honest, she had no wish to return to Knight’s Acre. It had been a dreary life then and it would likely be a drearier one now she had a stepmother.
Catherine came to visit the day after Mrs Kimpton took little Virginia away. Jessica had nearly broken down when she said goodbye to her, but it was for the best. She didn’t really want to see Catherine, either, despite her being her best friend. She didn’t want to hear about the baby.
Catherine was looking smart in the new dress she had bought specially for her wedding. And she looked happy.
“Oh, Jess,” she said as she hurried forward and took her friend’s hands. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s all right,” said Jessica. “Your Michael’s mother was here, right on the spot. She sorted Miss Jensen out too; kept calling her the old dragon!”
Catherine laughed.
“I’m very lucky,” she said. “She’s such a lovely lady.”
“She is.” Jessica took her hand and studied the gold band on her finger. “Mrs Catherine Kimpton,” she said. “Are you pleased?”
“Yes,” said Catherine. “I wish it could have been different, but there was no other way. Do you know what they did, Mr Jameson and my parents?”
“No, what did they do?”
“They had the banns read in church, announcing a marriage between me and Paul Jameson. I didn’t know anything about it until I heard my name called out.”
Jessica was shocked, but then she laughed.
“So you ran off with Michael instead,” she said. “I wish I’d seen their faces.”
“Me, too,” said Catherine.
“So your parents are also going to be too embarrassed to show their faces,” said Jessica. “That’s really funny.”
They laughed about it for a few more minutes, then Catherine told her friend all about Scotland and the train, and how much she loved Michael. That last caused her second thoughts; the man Jessica loved was dead.
“Listen Jessica,” she said. “Michael’s mother says you’re planning to go to London. That’s a really dangerous place.”
“I expect it is,” Jessica replied. “But nobody knows me there. I could go to Cambridge, I suppose, but it’s too close. I need a completely new start and London has so many people, I’m unlikely to meet anyone I know
.”
“But what about money?” said Catherine. “You can’t go without any money.”
“I’ve got some jewellery my mother gave me,” said Jessica. “I’ll sell it. It never meant much to me, anyway; she was an evil old cow who only wanted me as a skivvy.”
“When will you leave?”
“They’re kicking me out tomorrow.” Jessica gestured to the sofa in the corner, where a young girl lay with her back to them. “That girl had to give up her baby this morning. She just wanted to stay in bed and cry today, but the old dragon wouldn’t let her.”
“Where’s the child gone?”
“An orphanage probably,” said Jessica. “I’m lucky that Mrs Kimpton wanted Virginia. They’ve told that girl her baby’s been adopted by a nice family, but I’ve got my doubts.”
Catherine reached into her drawstring leather purse and brought out some coins.
“Take this,” she said.
“No,” protested Jessica. “You need that. You’ve just got married.”
“You need it more than us,” said Catherine. “It was Michael’s idea; he asked me to give it to you.”
“Bless his heart. Is he here?”
“In the tea shop across the road, yes. Miss Jensen still wouldn’t let him in.”
“Well, make sure you thank him for me,” said Jessica.
“Jess, please write as soon as you’re settled,” said Catherine. “I must know where you are or I’ll have no peace. And if you get into trouble, you know where we are. Don’t be afraid to ask for our help.”
“Trouble?” said Jessica with a little smile. “I’ve already got into trouble, haven’t I? Too late now to warn me about that.”
CHAPTER TEN
The Trip to London
Jessica was terrified. For all she had been unhappy with her parents, at least she had never been alone. She was missing her baby; it felt as though something had been wrenched from her, as though someone had pulled off an arm and thrown it away. Something was missing and her heart ached, more than she ever thought it could do. It was worse than when she lost Simon, when he went away to die where she couldn’t see him. It was worse than anything she had ever known and she knew what it was. She knew that if she could only hold her baby again, if she could keep little Virginia with her, the terrible pain would go away.
But that wasn’t going to happen, it couldn’t happen, not just because she was an unmarried mother and people would look down on her from their lofty heights, call her a whore and a trollop. It wasn’t just because Virginia would be outcast for being a bastard. Those were things she could find a way round. The reason she could never see her child again was because she had nothing and couldn’t support her; they would both starve or end up in the workhouse. Babies died in the workhouse; they didn’t live long there, not at all.
She had done what was best for Virginia and that would be her consolation. As she had watched the other girls giving up their babies to strangers or to the orphanage, Jessica knew she was the lucky one. Maud Kimpton was an angel sent from Heaven, perhaps sent by Simon himself to look after his little daughter.
There was one more thing she had to do before she began her journey to London. A couple of years ago, before Simon had come into her life, she had done some work for Lord Harrisford at the Castle. It was only some cleaning on the ground floor, especially the great hall, before he opened it up to the villagers on that one day a year, but it might be enough to ask him for a reference.
A reference from an earl would be a powerful tool to have when she looked for work in London. She had no intention of working in one of the factories, nor did she want to be a scullery maid. She had heard about how they were treated, not only by the other servants but also by the household members.
She had been told the story by Geraldine, one of the other girls at Magpie House. She had been a scullery maid and had been led on by one of the footmen who left her high and dry as soon as her baby got started. She was treated with contempt by Miss Jensen, who treated most of the girls with contempt. Jessica had managed to elicit some degree of sympathy from her because her baby’s father had died. She was still condemned for not waiting for marriage, though.
She admitted that she should have done that, but when Simon told her about his heart problems, she just wanted to love him while she still could.
She walked to Knight’s Acre. It was only about five miles from Newmarket and she needed the exercise, having been cooped up for so many months. And she needed to collect her thoughts. She had to avoid her father, make sure he didn’t see her, so she approached the village with care, being sure to looked down the High Street as she made her way toward the Castle.
Hoping His Lordship wasn’t set against her because of her father’s boasting, she hurried along, pulling her coat around her to keep out the cold. It didn’t quite fit any more and after so long without a corset, she really didn’t want to squash her body into one again.
Once she reached the crossroads, she turned quickly up Castle Hill, past the few houses that were scattered along that road at a distance from each other, and finally arrived at the Castle.
Her steps quickened as she passed the Gatehouse where Simon had lived and she recalled that last day, when the Earl had found her there and been so kind. The walk along the driveway seemed to take longer than usual; having the baby had taken a good deal of her strength, much more than she ever expected. She hoped this weakness wasn’t permanent.
As usual when someone approached, the Castle door opened and the Earl appeared. How he knew when someone was getting close was a mystery on which everyone speculated, and now Jessica wondered just why he had to come out himself, never allowing anyone to get close enough to see inside. Never, except that one day every year, the anniversary of something or other; she really couldn’t remember what anymore.
“Miss Milligan, isn’t it?” said the Earl.
“Yes, My Lord,” she said.
“How are you? Your father has been concerned for your safety,” he said.
“I doubt that,” she said. “Sorry. I heard he got married.”
“He did, but is still not back at work,” said the Earl. “I think you know why.”
She felt her cheeks begin to burn.
“I do,” she said at last, putting up her hand in a solemn position. “I swear I didn’t tell him those things. He got the wrong end of the stick and now he’s afraid to show his face.”
“Well, now you’re back,” said the Earl, “I’m sure you can straighten things out.”
“No,” said Jessica. “I have a favour to ask you and you might think it a bit presumptuous, but I did some cleaning for you a couple of years ago.” The Earl nodded. “I think you were satisfied with my work.” The Earl nodded again. “Would it be too much to ask you to give me a reference?”
He looked thoughtful for a few moments, then he smiled and nodded.
“Of course,” he said. “I supposed you want it now.”
“Yes, please.”
“Wait here,” he said. “There’s a little stone bench over by the pond. You sit yourself down there while I write it out.”
“Thank you, My Lord. Thank you so much.”
Her eyes followed him as he disappeared inside the massive house known as Knight’s Castle. On the anniversary, when the Earl opened up the great Hall and displayed all the jewellery and the paintings, he made sure none of the villagers went anywhere else. They were always allowed to walk in the grounds, though most never did, but the secrecy caused speculation.
Now as she waited, hoping no one would come along who knew her and could report back to her father, her eyes wandered to the top floor of the building and they caught a movement. It was a woman, a woman with ringlets either side of her face, like the style of the Royalists before the civil war. She lifted an arm and Jessica saw green silk fashioned into huge puffed sleeves of that same era, but a shadow crossed the sun at that moment and without it all she could see was a silhouette.
S
o this was the ghost people talked about. She didn’t look very ethereal, not like any phantom Jessica had ever heard about. Her form was solid, not transparent, but then perhaps that was untrue, just how people thought ghosts ought to look. Angels always had wings and white nightdresses, but nobody had ever seen one to know.
Jessica stood up when the Earl returned, clutching an envelope which he passed to her. It was addressed To Whom it May Concern and the paper was thick and expensive. In the left hand top corner of the envelope, in gold print, was the de Longueville family crest, the same emblem that had been on the side of the carriage in which Simon had collected her so many times. The same crest that had got her father believing his daughter was courting the Earl of Harrisford.
If only he hadn’t gone telling everyone; if only he had asked. By the time she knew, it was too late to explain anything. If the laudanum had worked, as it had with her mother, he would never have had to know the embarrassment of learning the truth. If Jessica hadn’t had to go away, she could have kept him asleep long enough, but it was not to be.
“Wait,” said the Earl as she turned to go. He handed her a piece of paper with an address written on it in his distinctive hand. “Try here first. Some friends of mine; Lady Seymour is always looking for maidservants.”
She wanted to ask why that should be, but decided against it. He might snatch the reference and address back if he thought she was becoming too familiar.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said. “That’s very good of you.”
He smiled.
“Just compliment her daily and you’ll be fine,” he said with a little grin that made her smile.
This was the reason people liked him; because he never gave himself too many airs, never seemed to look down on the villagers.
The church clock chimed and Jessica quickened her pace. She needed to get going, get back to Newmarket before darkness fell. She didn’t want to be walking back in the dark. Miss Jensen had allowed her to stay two more nights at Magpie House, as long as she cooked dinner for everyone. That was no hardship; she had been cooking for her mother and father for most of her life, even before Amelia took to her bed, and the mother and baby home wasn’t full.
Knight's Acre: Till Death Do Us Part Page 15