A Loving Family

by Dilly Court

  ‘You should have seen him stand up to Mr Ronald. He would have knocked his block off given half a chance, but he’s too clever to do that. Mr Kit is a toff. I’d do anything for him, miss.’

  Stella uttered a cry of delight as she spied another stub of a candle. She picked it up and set it on a stone ledge. ‘We’ll light this one later. Keep looking, Spike. Let’s see if there’s anything we can sit on. We might as well try and make ourselves comfortable.’

  After a brief search it was obvious that there was nothing that would make their incarceration more bearable and they huddled together, sitting on the cold chalk floor and hardly daring to breathe in case they extinguished the candle. Stella racked her brains trying to remember the stories that she had told Freddie and Belinda when she had been left to put them to bed, but tales of fairies and goblins were of no interest to Spike and his attention lapsed. He was growing restive when she recalled her mother’s accounts of her time in the Crimea and Spike was suddenly alert. She told him all she knew, adding in pieces of information about the fighting that she had overheard in the servants’ quarters at Portgone Place, but Spike did not seem to care whether or not the information was first hand; he listened with a rapt expression on his face until eventually Stella’s throat became dry and her voice hoarse. She was thirsty, but there was nothing to drink and her belly growled like a hungry tiger. She leaned back against the rough wall, closing her eyes. If only sleep would come and release her temporarily from this torture, but it was cold, and despite the fact that she held Spike in her arms they were both shivering violently.

  ‘Are we going to die, miss?’ Spike murmured, sounding suddenly like a small frightened child.

  She held him closer. ‘Of course not, Spike. They’ll let us out in the morning and they’ll have to allow us to go home. They can’t imprison us forever.’

  ‘I’m scared, miss.’

  ‘And so am I, but we won’t let them beat us.’ Stella stroked his lank hair back from his forehead. ‘Tell me about yourself, Spike. How old are you?’

  ‘I dunno, miss. The workhouse master said I was eleven so that he could sell me as a pauper apprentice.’

  ‘Were you born in the workhouse?’

  ‘I don’t think so, miss.’ He leaned his head on her shoulder. ‘You smell nice. I think my ma smelled like you, but I don’t remember her very well. Her face is pretty but it’s blurry and sometimes I think I’m forgetting her altogether. She’s getting further and further away from me.’

  ‘What was her name, Spike?’

  He was silent for a moment as if trying to conjure up a long-forgotten past. ‘I think it was Meg, and she had brown eyes with long black lashes. Her hands was rough but her voice was gentle and she used to sing me to sleep. Can you sing, miss?’

  Stella swallowed hard as the lump in her throat threatened to bring a sob to her voice. She shook her head. ‘Not very well, Spike.’

  ‘Ma taught me to count, learning me the song about the green rushes. D’you know that one, miss?’

  ‘My ma used to sing it to me and my brother and sister,’ Stella said, smiling. ‘My voice won’t be like your ma’s, Spike, but I’ll try.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’ll sing you one, ho . . .’ She went through the verses, but before she had counted to ten she realised that Spike had fallen asleep and was snoring gently.

  How long they remained huddled together she had no way of knowing, but the original candle stub dwindled and guttered and she lit the second one from it, taking care not to extinguish the flame of either by a sudden movement. She grew cramped and sore but did not want to wake Spike from the pleasant place of his dreams. His wide mouth was curved in a grin and he made small puppy-like noises as if returning to the happy time when he had a mother who loved him and a life before the workhouse stripped him of his innocence and robbed him of his childhood. Ronald Clifford had done the rest, but Stella had seen the boy behind the crippled gnome-like exterior of the beaten creature whom she had come across in the funeral parlour.

  Her feet and legs had grown numb and now they burned with pins and needles. She was forced to move and in doing so knocked the candle over. It guttered and went out. Spike woke up and began to howl in fright. She tried to calm him but having awakened to darkness he was beyond reason. There was another match somewhere in one of his pockets but her attempts to find it only made him more hysterical and his cries reverberated off the walls, creating a deafening chorus of despair. She broke away from him to hammer on the door. ‘Let us out,’ she screamed. ‘Somebody take pity on us and let us out.’ She turned on Spike, her nerves shattered by his keening. ‘Be quiet, Spike. Shut up.’ She lashed out in the darkness and her hand made contact with his face. The slap echoed round the room and he was shocked into silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘But I can’t stand that noise any longer.’ She beat on the door in desperation. ‘Please let us out.’

  Suddenly, as if by magic, the sound of a bolt shearing back into its socket made them both take a step backwards. The latch lifted and the door opened slowly. A shaft of lamplight flooded the room and Stella wrapped her arms around Spike’s trembling body. ‘Who’s there?’ she demanded in a voice that quavered with fear. ‘Who are you?’

  A slight figure slipped into the chamber. The woman’s dark hair formed a cloud around her head and her eyes were inky pools in a pale oval face. She held the lantern high. ‘Who are you? Why are you here?’

  Stella felt as if the ground was coming up to engulf her in its cold embrace. She might not be able to see the woman’s features clearly but she knew that voice. It had haunted her dreams since she was sent into service all those years ago. She had longed to hear it again and to be near her beloved mother, but now she was seized by a mixture of disbelief and wonder. She clutched Spike for support. ‘Ma?’ Her voice broke on a sob. ‘Ma, is it really you?’

  The lantern swayed erratically in the woman’s hand. She moved closer, dazzling Stella with the light as she peered into her face. ‘No. It can’t be. You can’t be my little girl.’

  ‘It is me, Ma. It’s Stella.’

  Spike snatched the lamp from Jacinta’s hand. ‘Don’t drop the bloody thing, ma’am. I’m getting out of here. This is a madhouse.’ He made for the doorway but Stella caught him by the scruff of the neck.

  ‘Don’t take the light away,’ she said angrily. She studied her mother’s features, taking in each one greedily and yet still unconvinced. ‘It really is you, Ma, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming.’

  ‘Stella, my own little girl.’ Jacinta threw her arms around her daughter, holding her as if she would never let her go. Their tears mingled as they clung together. ‘Stella, my baby.’

  ‘I had a feeling that you were close by, Ma,’ Stella sobbed. ‘I could feel it in my bones when we arrived at Heron Park. But why are you here in these dreadful caves?’

  ‘I might ask the same of you.’ Jacinta released her just long enough to take her by the hand. ‘Come with me, and you, boy, give me the lantern, and I’ll take you to my room. It’s warmer there.’

  ‘Are they keeping you prisoner too, ma’am?’ Spike returned the lantern to her. ‘Is this a jail?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Jacinta said, holding the door open. ‘Come.’ She led them through a maze of narrow tunnels until they came to a dead end. She opened a door and ushered them into a large windowless room lit by dozens of candles.

  Stella gazed round in amazement. It was not exactly the height of luxury but it seemed that everything had been provided for her mother’s comfort. A large four-poster bed with crimson damask tester and curtains took up at least half the space, and the floor was covered with oriental rugs. Even more surprising, a fire burned merrily in a roughly hewn fireplace, the smoke drifting up a chimney carved through the rock. It was warm but stuffy with the overpowering smell of hot candle wax and woodsmoke. ‘Why are you kept here, Ma?’ Stella demanded angrily. ‘We were told that you hadn’t been seen for the best part of a month.’


  Jacinta sank down on a chaise longue by the fire, patting the empty space at her side. ‘It’s a long story, my love. But you’re right in one thing. I am a prisoner here in more ways than one.’

  Spike cleared his throat noisily. ‘I don’t suppose you got anything to eat, have you, lady? I’m bloody starving and I’m parched.’

  Jacinta’s haunted expression melted into a smile. ‘Of course you are. I never knew a boy who wasn’t hungry.’ Her eyes moistened and she dashed her hand across them. ‘Freddie could never get enough to eat, which was why I had to leave him and Belinda in the workhouse. It all happened so quickly, Stella.’ She rose to her feet, moving in small agitated steps to a dresser where she took a loaf from a crock. ‘There’s only bread and some cheese, but they’ll bring me food in the morning.’ She picked up a knife and gave it to Spike, who was standing close behind her. ‘Help yourself, and cut a slice for Stella. There’s water in the pitcher.’ She took a wine bottle from the cupboard and poured some into a glass, which she took to Stella and pressed into her hand. ‘You look as though you need this, darling. I still can’t believe that it’s really you. Never a day has gone by when I didn’t think about you. I hoped and prayed that you were happy at Portgone Place.’

  ‘I wasn’t allowed to visit you until the first Mothering Sunday after I went there.’ Stella gulped a mouthful of wine. ‘Cook baked cakes for our mothers, but mine got stolen, and then I found you’d gone. I didn’t know where to look.’ Tears welled in her eyes as she recalled that most dreadful of days.

  Jacinta sat down beside her. ‘You poor girl. You must have felt that I’d abandoned you but that wasn’t so. I left a note with Mr Walters, telling him that I’d had to leave Freddie and Belinda in the workhouse while I went looking for work and that I’d contact you as soon as I was settled.’

  ‘That hateful woman, Ma Stubbs, told me that Mr Walters had died. She said she didn’t know where you’d gone.’

  A wry smile curved Jacinta’s lips. ‘And I expect she said good riddance to bad rubbish. She hated me because I was foreign, or part foreign. Stupid people make judgements based on prejudice.’

  ‘So where did you go, Ma? Why didn’t you try to contact me?’

  Jacinta took the wine glass from her and drained its contents in one thirsty gulp. ‘I couldn’t get regular work, Stella. I washed dishes and cleaned rich people’s houses for pennies. I slept in flea-ridden doss houses and when I ran out of money I joined the homeless people who sleep beneath railway arches.’

  Stella took her mother’s hand and held it close to her heart. ‘Oh, Ma. How awful.’

  ‘In desperation I went to beg your grandfather for help, but Saul Wilton slammed the door in my face. Then, one Christmas Eve, when I was close to starving, I went to see Aunt Maud. She took me to Ronald and I threw myself on his mercy.’

  Stella slipped her arm around her mother’s shaking shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry, Ma.’

  Jacinta blinked away tears in an attempt to smile. ‘He took me in and gave me food and a bed for the night. I knew that he had treated Maud badly, but I thought perhaps he had been wronged and was not such a bad fellow. How mistaken I was.’ She turned to Spike who was stuffing bread and cheese into his mouth as if afraid someone was going to snatch the food from him. ‘Pass me the bottle, and another glass, if you please. I need a drink.’

  Stella accepted another glass of claret, but she did not raise it to her lips. She watched anxiously as Jacinta refilled her glass and drank thirstily. ‘What happened then, Ma?’

  ‘I must have been a sorry sight. I had only the clothes I stood up in and had not washed for weeks, but Ronald took me in hand. As soon as Christmas was over he took me to a dolly shop and bought me a new outfit. He asked nothing in return, and I began to think that Maud had exaggerated his meanness. Then he introduced me to Silas Norville. That was my undoing.’

  ‘I knew you’d been there, Ma,’ Stella said eagerly. ‘You carved your initials on a rack in the wine cellar.’

  ‘It was clear what Silas Norville had in mind, and Ronald abandoned me. I refused the wretched man’s demands at first but he locked me in the cellar and I had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. I agreed to do what Silas demanded.’

  ‘He wanted you for himself?’

  ‘No, love. He had other plans for me. He took me to meet Gervase Rivenhall, who acted like a perfect gent at first. He said he wanted a woman to act as hostess when he entertained his friends, and I accepted.’ Jacinta shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was better than starving to death on the streets.’

  ‘And you came here?’

  ‘Not at first. This was years ago, Stella my love. I went to live in Gervase’s house in Half Moon Street, and I soon discovered what was expected of me.’ Jacinta glanced at Spike but he was more intent on eating than on listening to their conversation. She sighed. ‘I had certain duties regarding the gentlemen who attended Gervase’s parties. You understand?’

  ‘The brute.’

  ‘It was a business arrangement. I worked to pay for my bed and board and Gervase bought me fine clothes. I trod the primrose path, Stella.’

  ‘Oh, Ma. I’m so sorry. But didn’t you try to break free?’

  ‘Many times, but Gervase always found me and brought me back. I’m weak, Stella. I’m not strong like my own dear mama. I can’t stand being poor and hungry. I always meant to return to the workhouse and rescue my children from that life, but somehow the time was never right. Gervase gave me everything except money and I was a prisoner of my own failings.’

  ‘So why are you here in the caves? You must have been with him for a long time, Ma. Why does he treat you like this?’

  ‘When we came to live at Heron Park Gervase started smoking opium and took laudanum on a regular basis. The parties he gave grew wilder and more debauched. As well as the women that Ronald supplied there were young girls from the village who were enticed here to entertain the gentlemen, and I was supposed to look after them. When I rebelled and threatened to leave it caused a terrible scene.’

  ‘And one of the girls lost her life.’

  ‘Poor creature. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but things got badly out of hand that night. I was summoned to the scene but she was already past help. The men carried her body out into the woods and the police were kept away from the caves.’

  ‘But they must know about them, Ma.’

  ‘Of course, but Gervase is an important man. He is the landowner and owns most of the houses in the village and the farms in the area. Everyone is dependent upon him in one way or another and so few people are willing to speak against him.’

  ‘But you know what’s been going on. Why didn’t you say anything?’

  Jacinta drained her glass and rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. ‘I doubt if I would be believed. The story went round that the unlucky girl had entered the grounds to meet her lover and he had killed her in a jealous rage. The young man who had been courting her disappeared, and I suspect that Gervase gave him money to flee the country.’

  ‘And he locked you away so that you couldn’t testify against him even should you want to?’

  Jacinta moved to the dresser and opened the cupboard. ‘There is no more wine.’

  Stella leapt to her feet, pushing past Spike, who was suddenly alert. ‘What’s going on?’ he cried anxiously. ‘I didn’t eat all the bread, miss. There’s some left for you, and some cheese. I ain’t a pig.’

  She patted him on the shoulder. ‘I know, Spike. I’ll eat in a moment.’ She moved to her mother’s side. ‘You’ve had enough to drink, Ma. I’m not blaming you for trying to blot it all out, but getting drunk isn’t the answer.’

  Jacinta gave her a bleary smile. ‘Isn’t it, Stella? How do you think I’ve survived all these years of degradation? Wine and brandy have dulled the edges and made it possible to get through each day. I’ve ached to hold my children in my arms and I’ve dreamed of the day when we would all be together again, but it was never going to be.
’

  ‘But it’s still possible, Ma.’ Stella led her mother to the bed. ‘Lie down and rest. You’ll feel better if you sleep. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of us getting out of here tonight?’

  Jacinta slumped down on the feather mattress. ‘None at all. I wouldn’t be here now if there were.’

  ‘I’ve found Belinda, Ma. She’s safe, and Freddie is in the Navy. I’ll seek him out next. We’ll all be together again soon.’

  Jacinta relaxed against the pillows. ‘How will we manage that?’

  ‘Kit and Rosa Rivenhall are my good friends. They are the rightful owners of Heron Park. Kit plans to regain control of the estate and then he’ll oust his uncle. Kit will help us, Ma.’

  ‘You must think a lot of this young man.’

  Stella turned her head away in order to hide her blushes. ‘I do, Ma.’

  ‘It might not be as easy as you think.’

  ‘Why not? Surely it’s simple. If we can get you away from here you can testify against Mr Rivenhall.’

  ‘I can’t, Stella.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Ma. After all he’s done to you why can’t you stand up in court and denounce him?’

  ‘Because I can’t, Stella. I’m his wife.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘YOU MARRIED GERVASE Rivenhall?’ Stella could hardly believe her ears. ‘Why?’

  ‘I had no choice,’ Jacinta said sleepily. ‘He made it impossible for me to refuse.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Stella hesitated, hardly daring to state the obvious. ‘I mean, he’s a gentleman and . . .’ She broke off, not wanting to offend her mother.

  ‘He married me to prevent me from testifying against him in court. I had no choice.’ Jacinta closed her eyes and slept.

  ‘Don’t that beat all?’ Spike said, shaking his head. ‘Your ma is lady of the manor or something like that.’

  Stella perched on the edge of the bed. ‘This is unbelievable. We’re in a living nightmare. She’s tied to that dreadful man by marriage.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘But it stops here. I’m not going to allow Gervase Rivenhall to ruin all our lives.’