When Amy appeared quite suddenly, dressed for outdoors, Bridget looked at her in some surprise, saying, ‘Are you going for a walk in the garden, dear?’
‘No, Mammy; I’m going for a walk outside. I’m going to see Joseph.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ Bridget drew herself to the edge of the couch now, saying, ‘Well, we are all going along to see him shortly; your father wants to have a talk with him. I told you last night that your father’s got some suggestion…’
‘I know, Mammy; but there’s no reason why I can’t visit Joseph on my own, is there?’
‘No; but it’s a very long walk, and it’s a lonely road.’
‘I’m used to walking, Mammy; and I’ll have to get used to walking lonely roads before I’m finished, don’t you think?’
Bridget looked at this daughter of hers who took after herself in so many ways, mostly in her mind, and she didn’t think she liked it. She loved her dearly, so very, very dearly, but she wished that she wasn’t such a replica of herself and had more of her father’s traits. But she had come to realise of late that when one faced oneself, one found some displeasing facets, and one of them was a strong will, which became wilfulness when displayed at Amy’s age. She said now, ‘Does Daddy know where you’re going?’
‘Yes; I told him. He’s up in the schoolroom with Henrietta.’ Then turning, she looked down at her new aunt, as she thought of her, and she said with a smile, ‘She said my name quite plainly.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad.’ Victoria answered her smile, and when Amy said, ‘There’s a very good school for deaf children in Newcastle, perhaps she could attend there,’ Victoria drew herself from the back of the couch, saying, ‘Oh, that would be excellent. Oh yes,’ and turned to look at Bridget, who said, ‘Yes, indeed it would. We’ll see into it.’ And now she smiled broadly at her daughter, saying, as though assenting to her wishes, ‘Be careful how you go. We’ll be along very shortly, because we all may be going home this afternoon.’
‘Oh; this afternoon?’
‘Yes, dear, this afternoon.’
The smile had slid from Amy’s face, and she turned quickly and went out without further words. Within minutes she was hurrying along what her mother had termed the lonely road, jumping the ice-capped puddles here and there and even sliding on one of them. And then she was knocking on the door of the cottage.
She had to wait some seconds before it was opened and by Joseph, and his greeting was one that showed a little surprise. ‘You’re early,’ he said; then looking to the side, he asked, ‘Are you on your own?’
‘Yes. Yes, sir, I’m on my own. May I come in?’
He stood aside, and when she entered the room she did as he had done on his first sight of the kitchen; she stood and stared about her. Then her eyes focused on the end of the room, and the fire and the chair to the side of it, and the books lying on the mat at its foot.
‘Give me your coat.’
As he helped her off with her coat, she said, ‘How’s your arm feeling?’
‘Fine, all right, but I’ll be glad when it’s out of this sling. Come up by the fire; Bertha’s out in the garden feeding her feathered friends.’
‘Bertha? You call her Bertha?’
‘Yes. Yes, I call her Bertha…Sit down.’
As she went to sit in the basket chair a voice from somewhere behind her shouted, ‘Nuff to cut the nose off you out there! I’ll soon have to put drawers on Lizzie else her backside will be frozen; they’ve got her pecked to bits. I think I’ll bring her in later…’ Bertha’s voice trailed away; then as she entered the room she exclaimed on a high note, ‘Well! Well! And where did you spring from? Did you come down the chimney? I didn’t hear a carriage.’
‘Amy, this is Mrs Hanratty. Bertha, this is Amy, and apparently, yes, she did come down the chimney.’
‘Sit down, lass, sit down. Eeh! Look at the sight of me!’ She now rubbed her hands down the old black coat she was wearing. ‘I must look like a witch to you.’
‘She is a witch.’ He was smiling at Amy now. ‘She makes things happen, turns people inside out. And that’s not the half of it.’
Amy sat down and stared from the little dumpling of a woman to this tall young man, this young man whom she loved, and in such a way that it was a constant pain. But she saw immediately that he wasn’t the same person who had lived in the Lodge, nor yet the one she had seen during the past few days in the house down the road. He looked different; his long body wasn’t stiff any more, and his manner was entirely changed; it was…She couldn’t find the words readily to explain it, for he appeared not only relaxed, but free…free and easy. Yes, that was the term. His manner towards this little woman and hers towards him were as if they had known each other for years. And, too, there seemed something more than that between them. And yet, from what he had said, he had lived in this place only a matter of weeks while attending his grandfather at the house. Yes, and wasn’t it strange that he had to help nurse his grandfather? That surely couldn’t have made the change in him, could it? But perhaps the change was all for the better; there would be no more barriers to get through.
The little woman had taken her coat off now and had pulled what looked like a man’s cap from her head and she was saying, ‘I’ll just spruce meself up a bit, then I’ll make you a drink. But in the meantime get yourself into the front room. Now wasn’t it funny—’ She was looking at Joseph now. ‘Don’t you think it’s funny that I should light that fire in there this mornin’? I said to you, didn’t I, I was lighting it because I felt the room might get a bit damp? But that place is as dry as a bone.’ She now turned a beaming face on Amy, ending, ‘I must have known you were coming, lass. Well, go on, the pair of you, and leave me to get on in me kitchen and get Charlie singing.’
Somewhat bewildered, Amy allowed herself to be led down the kitchen and into the front room, and here she stopped again as she took in the horsehair suite, the wallpaper with cabbage roses shouting out from it, the dresser holding bits of china, and on a table to the side of the small window a large horn phonograph.
He laughed at her bewilderment, saying, ‘You’ll get used to it; it isn’t the furniture that matters here. Come, sit down on that nice soft seat.’ He bent over and thumbed the hard horsehair sofa.
When seated she looked up at him, and said, ‘You like it here?’
‘Yes. Yes, I like it here.’
‘You’re changed.’
‘How d’you mean, changed?’
‘Your manner, everything about you.’
‘Oh that. Yes. Yes, I suppose, at least when I’m here.’
‘Because…because of that funny little woman?’
‘She’s not a funny little woman.’ His tone was one that she recognised now. ‘She’s a dear, kind and understanding woman, and wise. Yes, that’s the word, wise…and lonely.’
She had turned her head away from him as he was speaking, but now she was looking at him again and repeating, ‘Lonely?’
‘Yes, lonely. She grabbed at me and I grabbed at her for different reasons. We both needed each other badly when we met.’ He now sat down beside her and, looking intently at her, he said, ‘I was in a state the day I left the Lodge. All I wanted to do at that time was to have a glimpse of the house in which my father lived. From the moment my mother told me as much as she wanted me to know, I became consumed with finding out more. You know, Amy, I’d always felt that I didn’t belong anywhere. I knew I had a stepfather, I also knew there was something being kept back from me, something that was shared between my mother and yours, and your father. Well, we’ve been all through that, haven’t we, during the last few days? But it seems to me now that I was drawn here to this very house, to this very cottage, to this very woman, because without her I would have never gone as a helper to an old bedridden man; I’m sure if I’d had to stay in that house twenty-four hours a day I don’t think I could have stood it. Coming back here was like coming back into sanity.’
‘You didn’t think about me, t
hough, when you left?’
‘Oh, yes, I did, Amy. I thought very much about you.’
‘And now?’
‘Well, I can’t think more about you than I did then, and always have.’
She moistened her lips, and her eyelids blinked rapidly before she said, ‘Are you going to marry me?’
He had been leaning towards her, but he did not straighten up nor did his expression alter as he said, ‘No; at least not yet, not until I can find a position of some sort in which I’lI be able to…Well, not keep you in the spoilt way in which you have been used to, miss, but to provide decently for you, perhaps in a cottage like this.’ He waved his hand now.
‘You wouldn’t need much to provide for me in a cottage like this and I wouldn’t mind, horsehair sofa an’ all.’ She patted the seat to the side of her, and his whole manner now changing, he put out his good hand and touched her cheek, saying, ‘It must be sufficient for the time being that I love you. But one day I will ask you to marry me, and I hope it won’t be too far off. But you understand I must find a position of some kind first.’ And now he pulled a face at her. ‘Have you forgotten there’s still your dear mama and papa…eh? And also, don’t forget, my impetuous Amy, that we are full cousins.’
‘It wouldn’t matter to me if we were brother and…’ Her head drooped now. ‘Oh, really! The things you make me say.’
His voice was very low as he whispered, ‘It wouldn’t matter to me either, dear.’ Then, bending quickly, he kissed her on the lips, and when her arms went swiftly round his neck he winced, and she withdrew them for a moment, saying, ‘Oh, I’m sorry…Is it still painful?’
‘Well, let’s say I know it’s there. But also let’s say that I’m lucky. Half an inch further, they tell me, and it would have been, Goodbye, Mr Skinner…or Mr Carter.’
She shook her head. ‘Daddy did get a shock when he saw who Mr Carter was. It was the last place on earth, he said, he expected to find you.’
‘Yes; and it was the last place on earth I expected to be that day I left the Lodge.’
As his hand went out to draw her to him again there came the neigh of a horse and she turned and looked over the back of the couch towards the window, saying, ‘Oh, there’s the carriage. They’ve come.’ And her voice now dropping to an even sad note, she said, ‘I don’t seem to be able to escape for very long.’
He drew her quickly to her feet and, holding her close, he said, ‘You will. Just have a little patience, you will. I’ll see to it, I promise you, because I love you. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to tell you. Unlike you, I cannot express my feelings as they really are. I suppose that was my mother’s doing. Things near the heart were never talked about. And I can understand why now. But then, it became a pattern.’ He bent and kissed her swiftly, then said, ‘Doubtless, as always, you’ll get your own way; and you’ll change that through time, and then I’ll become a pest.’
‘Oh, I hope so, Joseph, I hope so.’ She now placed her mouth hard on his, only for them to spring apart when they heard Bertha’s high shrill tone, saying, ‘Come away in! Come away in! They’re in the front room there, an’ I’ve just made a pot of tea. Sit yourself down.’
When they both entered the kitchen walking apart, Bridget greeted Amy with, ‘How on earth did you manage to walk along that road! It’s like ice; the wheels were slipping.’
‘I had a slide here and there,’ she said. Then looking at Bertha, she added, ‘Mrs Hanratty, these are my parents, Mr and Mrs Filmore.’
‘Well, it didn’t take me three guesses to come to that conclusion, lass. But come on, all of you, an’ sit up an’ let’s have a cup of tea. I said, sit up, but there’s only two chairs at the table. But plant yourself where you like.’ Then turning towards the fire, she said, ‘The tea’s brewed and I’ve popped some scones in the oven to warm up. I baked them yesterday, but they come up as fresh as ever with a bit of heat.’
Exchanging a quick glance, Bridget and Douglas seated themselves on the two kitchen chairs near the table, but where there was amusement in Douglas’s eyes there was slight bewilderment in Bridget’s, and this was mixed with some amazement during the next few minutes as she listened to the cross talk between the little woman and Joseph. He was talking as she had never heard him talk to Lily; it was as if they were acquaintances of long standing; in fact, as if they were closely related.
At the first lull in the conversation Bridget looked at Joseph and said tentatively, ‘We…we would like to discuss something with you. It…well, it concerns your future and…and the house.’ And at this, Bertha got quickly up from the basket chair, saying, ‘Well, then, if it’s private, I’ll leave you to it. I’m goin’ to finish lookin’ after me livestock.’
‘I thought you were finished out there?’
Bertha looked at Joseph, saying, ‘Well, you’ve been here long enough, lad, to know you’re never finished with livestock.’ And without more ado she took her old black coat from the door, put it on, then pulled a peaked cap onto her grey hair, nodded towards Joseph and went out.
There was a moment’s silence before Douglas, his tone brisk now, said, ‘Well, I’ll put it in a nutshell, if that’s possible, Joseph. As you know, the house and land, what is left of it, has come to me. If it had been entailed, it would have gone to Henrietta. Even if it hadn’t, she may have had some claim should her mother have taken the matter up, but apparently some time ago my father made a new will…Oh, this being so, God only knows what would have happened if Lionel had been alive when Father died; he likely would have aimed to finish me. Indeed, yes. Anyway the place is mortgaged up to the hilt, but I can clear that out of my own business, as well as the smaller debts that have accrued over the years. Now the point is this. The house was going downhill when I last saw it, but twenty years makes a difference and I’m shocked at the sight of it now, both inside and out, and I would like to be able to say that I have enough money to renovate it back to how I recall it in my very young days, because it was then a beautiful house, with an equally beautiful garden; but that isn’t possible. Yet my wife here seems only too pleased to throw her money about…’
‘Our money.’
‘Just as you say, my dear; as you wish, our money.’
He smiled tolerantly at her, then went on, ‘So she proposes to have it refurbished completely inside, and attention paid to the roof and what is necessary outside; then restore the garden, and even get the little farm working again. But whilst this was being done we would have to live there, and—’ Again he looked at Bridget, saying quietly now, ‘she has no desire to live there. What is more, Victoria’s, that is Mrs Filmore’s, only wish is to return to what was her home in her young days, which is of course Meadow House. And so it has been arranged that we take her and Henrietta back with us today. But to return to the business of the house. No matter how good a staff is, it needs a head. Bright has been marvellous all these years. I don’t know any other person in the world who would have worked for my father as he has, but he is getting on and, because of his labours, he is tired now and his duties should be light. So, the inside of the house needs guidance. As for the outside, I know from experience that things would tend to slack off not only in the yard and grounds, but also on the farm, if there was not a guiding hand. And so, Joseph, I come to the vital point and it is this: if everyone had their due and there was justice in this world, you, as the son of the elder son, would have inherited that place. But even as it is, we both consider it to be rightfully yours…’
‘What! Mine! That place, mine? Never! Anyway, the law is the law and I have no more right to it than Bertha has.’ He jerked his head back towards the door leading into the scullery.
Douglas’s voice was still level as he replied, ‘I know. Yes, I know that perfectly well. Under law you have no claim to the estate; but that isn’t the point I’m trying to put over to you. As it stands the place is mine, and I could sell it tomorrow to a developer, and he would probably pull it down and build rows and rows of pseu
do villas on the forty acres or so left. But as I said, I like that house and I want to see it as it once was, and so, therefore, I’m asking you to take on what will be…well, a job, for the next few years. And it will take a few years to bring it into order.’
Joseph was sitting apart from Amy on the settle. He turned and looked at her, then from her to her parents. This was a turn of events he had never dreamed of. He, too, had thought that Mr Douglas, as he still thought of him, would surely sell the place, although he hadn’t thought, even vaguely, about a developer. But now he could see one jumping at the opportunity.
His mind swam into the dream again. He could see the old man, his grandfather, lying in that huge bed; he could feel his arms about him, and he was telling him something, that at first had no real meaning for him.
When understanding sprang at him, the force of it made him suddenly edge further along the settle, and he heard a voice speaking. It sounded like the old man’s to his ears, yet it was his own, and he was saying to Douglas, ‘Thank you for the offer. Yes, I will take it on, but only on one condition.’
‘Condition?’
‘Yes, condition, and that is I marry, take a wife.’
He now groped for Amy’s hand and held it; but he was looking at Bridget the while he said, ‘I’ve long loved Amy, and you know that; but it didn’t meet with your favour, and I can understand why. Oh yes, I can understand why. But now things have been straightened out in that quarter there has been only one thing in the present situation that has stopped me from asking her to be my wife, and that is I was in no position to support her. But you yourselves have made that way clear.’ Now looking directly at Douglas, he said, ‘I ask your permission, sir, to marry Amy.’
The Black Candle Page 40