‘Oh, I’m sure he will, thank you,’ Eve gushed, vastly relieved that she wasn’t going to be put out of a job and a home.
‘Then that is settled. You will probably find that I will be paying you slightly more than my son was. Henry would never spend a penny where a ha’penny would do, and although I am a firm mistress, I think you will find I am fair. Eve, over the next few days, I would like you to pack up anything that yourselves and your mistress wish to bring with you, and then you will all leave this house for good.’ She looked around sadly for a moment. ‘It has never been a happy home,’ she mused, ‘at least not while my son resided here – but hopefully the next people who buy it will change that.’
Once they were alone again, Mrs King said in a gentle voice, ‘I am sickened by what my son has done and the dire straits he has left you in. But all is not lost, my dear. You are a beautiful young woman with your whole life still before you, and hopefully in the not too distant future you will meet a man who will treat you as you deserve to be treated.’
Opal shook her head. ‘I shall never get married again,’ she said vehemently.
Her mother-in-law smiled. ‘Never is a very long time, and who knows what the future has in store for you.’ She rose stiffly, leaning heavily on her stick. ‘But I should be going now. Would you ask Will to bring the carriage round to the front?’
Once the old lady had left, Opal dropped into the nearest chair, trying to take in the latest developments. Henry had used her, abused her, humiliated her and left her homeless, and yet as she looked around the familiar room, she was surprised to find that she would not be sorry to leave this grand house. As Mrs King has said, she had never known happiness here, so she would walk away without looking back.
When Emma called in the next morning and Opal told her of the solicitor’s findings, she was horrified.
‘Oh, my dear!’ She was clearly as shocked as Opal had been. ‘I thought you at least would have been well provided for. That dreadful man!’
Opal shrugged. ‘He didn’t force me to marry him and I didn’t even love him, so I suppose I brought it on myself,’ she remarked dully.
‘Don’t talk such rot!’ Emma was enraged. ‘Everyone knows how hard you tried to be a good wife, but the man was sick in the head. He must have been. Still, at least now you can start again.’
Opal gave a wry smile. ‘Start again? I don’t think so, Emma. I’m so ashamed I daren’t even step out of the door at present. I must be the talk of the town and I can guess what they’re all saying – “Serves her right! A girl from Rapper’s Hole trying to be a lady!”’
‘Rubbish! If people are talking, it will be about Henry and not you! And don’t forget it will be a nine-day wonder. But when will you be moving?’
‘I shall be gone by this weekend. Eve is packing our things even as we speak and then Henry’s solicitor will arrange to have an auction house come in to value the house and contents.’
‘Well, it’s probably better to do it sooner rather than later.’ Emma glanced around the room, suspecting that Opal would probably just be glad to get away from the place. She certainly would if she were in her shoes, after all that had happened. She decided to change the subject then. ‘Peter stayed in London for a couple of nights last week at Matthew’s house and it seems he has troubles too.’
‘Oh?’ Opal tried not to sound too interested.
‘Yes, it’s Alicia. She’s been ill for some time, as you know, but it appears that she doesn’t have much longer now.’
‘What?’ Opal was horrified to hear it. ‘But what’s wrong with her?’
‘A tumour . . . well, actually a number of them.’ Emma shook her head. ‘Matthew was telling Peter that their daughter, Suzanne, has been an absolute little angel. She’s barely left her mother’s side for months, apparently, bless her. Peter said that after seeing Alicia he thinks it will be a blessed relief for the poor soul when she does go. He said she looks absolutely dreadful and is as weak as a kitten. The staff or Matthew have to carry her downstairs – when she’s well enough to get out of bed that is – and it seems that isn’t often now.’
‘How awful.’ Opal thought of how Alicia had looked at the balls she had attended and how beautiful she had been. It was hard to imagine her as Emma was describing her. ‘Poor Mr Darby-Jones.’
Eve brought the tea in then, distracting them, and Emma decided it was time to steer the conversation away from anything sad.
‘Would you like me to come and help you with the move?’ she offered after a time, but Opal shook her head.
‘It’s very kind of you, but everything appears to be in hand. Will has already almost emptied the stables and prepared the ones at Mrs King’s for the horses, and Eve won’t allow me to help her pack so I feel at a bit of a loose end at the moment.’
‘In that case I won’t interfere, but just remember I’m here if there’s anything at all I can do. And don’t think you’re going to turn into a recluse because of what has happened. I won’t allow it, and next week I shall be calling to see you at Mrs King’s – you’ll not be getting rid of me too easily.’
‘I wouldn’t wish to,’ Opal said truthfully. Emma had been her rock and her confidante for some time, and she knew she would never be able to thank her enough for her support. At least in these times of trouble, she knew she still had friends she could turn to.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Over the next few days, Opal fell into a deep depression and refused to leave the house even to go and see her beloved Charlie. Life held no meaning or hope for her anymore, and she felt very much as she had in the year after her accident. Her thoughts returned to that terrible day often. Her little boy would be five if he’d lived, and in her mind he looked just like Jack: cheeky, smiling and full of mischief. But she would never have a family to call her own now, and sometimes when she lay in bed she prayed that she wouldn’t wake up. When she did manage to sleep, her dreams were plagued with nightmares about Henry, and she would wake in a cold sweat convinced that she would find him standing at the end of the bed.
Eventually the weekend rolled around, and on the morning she was due to move back in with her mother-in-law, Cook said a tearful goodbye.
‘Now you just take care o’ yourself,’ she ordered Opal sternly. ‘An’ remember that none o’ what’s happened is your fault. You get out there an’ hold yer head high, do yer hear me? You have nothin’ to be ashamed of!’
Opal nodded tearfully, as the older woman wrapped her in a warm embrace. ‘And you take care of yourself too.’
‘Oh, don’t yer get worryin’ about me. I shall be as happy as Larry staying wi’ our Kathy an’ her family. But now I should be off. It’s enough to freeze the hairs off a brass monkey out there an’ I don’t want to keep Will an’ Eve’s young brother waitin’. Christopher ’as come along to help wi’ the move, bless ’im. Goodbye fer now, pet.’
Will had the carriage waiting outside to take Cook and her belongings to her daughter’s home in Willington Street, and curiosity drew Opal to the window where she twitched the lace curtain to one side. She had met Eve’s parents but not the young brother she spoke of so lovingly, and she was curious. However, all she could see of him was his back as he sat next to Will on the driving seat, swaddled up to the eyebrows.
Once Cook was comfortably seated in the carriage, it rattled away and Opal wearily went upstairs to see if she could help Eve with the last-minute packing.
Two hours later, she left Henry’s home for the last time and she did not look back once, although she did fleetingly think of the nursery she had so lovingly prepared. Hopefully the next family that lived there would have a baby to put in it one day.
Mrs King gave her a royal welcome when she arrived at Hollow’s House. ‘There’s a nice fire burning in your old bedroom,’ she told her. ‘But you come into the drawing room and have a cup of tea with me while Eve is putting your clothes away. Eve and Will shall have a bedroom in the servants’ quarters. They’ll be a lot mo
re comfortable up there than they were in the rooms above the stables at the other house. In fact, I’ve told them they can use another empty room as a little sitting room if they wish.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Opal answered, as she removed her bonnet and followed the old lady into the drawing room where a cheery fire was burning in the grate. But nothing could lift her depression, and as she sat silently staring into the flames, her life stretched out before her with nothing to look forward to.
Her sleep was still plagued by nightmares; sometimes they would be about Henry, at other times she dreamed of falling into the quarry again and the pain she had suffered. Over and over she saw flashes of the dark-green cloak and felt the hand on her back as it pushed her over the edge of the quarry. The worst of it was, though, she had no one to talk to about it. Who would believe it? Her hand rose unconsciously to the scar on her face. Although it had faded to a white line, it still made her shudder every time she looked at herself in the mirror. Still, she consoled herself. She would never marry again after what had happened with Henry, so what did it matter what she looked like?
Two days after arriving back at Hollow’s House, Eve went to find Opal in the day room. ‘You have a visitor, ma’am.’
‘A visitor . . . for me?’ Opal looked surprised.
‘It is Mrs Wood, ma’am. Would you like me to send her away?’
Opal blinked with surprise. Why would Mrs Wood be visiting her? ‘No . . . show her in, would you, please?’
Soon Mrs Wood appeared, clutching a young girl of about five tightly by the hand. Her face was cold and she looked gravely ill as she stared at Opal with disdain.
‘I’ve come for what is rightfully mine,’ she said without preamble, and Opal looked confused.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mrs Wood,’ she answered calmly.
The child began to whimper, but the woman ignored her as she continued to stare at Opal. ‘I’m sure you’re aware that this is your late husband’s child,’ Mrs Wood said cruelly. ‘And had you not come on the scene when you did, he would have been my husband. What he saw in a girl from Rapper’s Hole, I’ll never know! Anyway, what’s done is done, but I think I deserve at least some of his estate. I have his child to bring up and educate, so I trust you will do the right thing.’
Opal’s face hardened, making the scar that ran down her cheek stand out. ‘Had I any money to give you I would, if only for the sake of the child,’ she said heatedly. ‘But as it is, Henry left me without a penny to my name.’
‘What?’ Mrs Wood looked shocked. ‘But how . . .’
‘Gambling!’ Opal told her curtly. ‘And I’m afraid I cannot give what I haven’t got.’
The woman’s face turned red with rage as she leaned towards Opal. ‘You should have died when you went over the edge of the quarry, then everything would have been all right and Henry would have made an honest woman of me!’
Then she turned on her heel and stormed from the room, dragging her child behind her. Shaken, Opal crossed to the window and watched as Mrs Wood strode down the drive, her long, dark-green cloak flapping about her legs like ravens’ wings. Long green cloak! Suddenly in her mind’s eye Opal was standing on the edge of the quarry again and it hit her like a blow.
It hadn’t been Esther Partridge she had glimpsed that day – it had been Mrs Wood. She must have been carrying Henry’s child at that time, and no doubt she had hoped that with Opal out of the way, he would do the right thing by her and his child. The more she thought about it, the more Opal knew she was right – not that the knowing would do her much good. If she went to the police with her suspicions, she would never be able to prove it and so she decided that she would keep it to herself. What else could she do? It would be another dark secret that she would have to bear alone.
At the end of that week, Mrs King received a letter from Mrs Wood demanding enough money to support the old lady’s grandchild until she was grown.
It had come as a great shock to her to find that she had a grandchild. Somehow this piece of gossip had never reached her ears, but now that she did know about it her conscience was pricked.
‘I suppose I should give her something, if only for the sake of the child,’ she told Opal uncertainly. Opal secretly hoped that she would; it wasn’t the little girl’s fault, after all, but she didn’t feel able to say it. But before Mrs King had the chance to make arrangements, word reached them that both Mrs Wood and the child had died after catching the influenza that was sweeping through the town.
On hearing the news, Opal wept for the little girl. What chance did the poor thing have with a callous woman like Mrs Wood for a mother, and a gambling drunk for a father? The child had been her own little boy’s half-sister and she hadn’t deserved her fate. But then, neither had her beautiful boy. And her heart broke anew at yet another senseless death of an innocent child. But it was the grief for her own child that made her weep the longest; the pain of losing her baby had never lessened, and she wondered whether she would ever be able to feel happiness again.
Within no time at all, Eve and Will had settled into their new home and Eve looked happier than Opal had ever seen her.
‘Mrs King is a rare ’un,’ she told Opal, as she helped her put her hair up one morning. Emma was due to visit that day, so Opal supposed she should make an effort to look nice. ‘She’s a crusty old bird on the outside but soft as butter inside, ain’t she? Me an’ Will love it ’ere, an’ she’s already told Will that she’ll find our Christopher a job an’ all when he leaves school.’
‘Why is there such an age gap between you and your brother?’ Opal asked, thinking of Jack, he would have been about the same age as Christopher, and the thought made her heart ache.
‘Sadly me mam lost one baby after another till Christopher came along. She adopted him after one of her friends died and he was left an orphan, so I dare say that’s why we all spoil ’im. I’d given up all hope of ever havin’ a brother or sister by the time he made an appearance. But there, that’s the best I can do, what do yer think?’
She stood back while Opal examined her hair in the mirror. Eve had styled it into a neat roll on the back of her head and it made her look like a schoolteacher. Even so she smiled. She didn’t much care how she looked and she wouldn’t have hurt Eve’s feelings for the world.
‘Very neat and tidy, thank you.’
‘Right, I’d best be off an’ set the table if Mrs Dawson-Myers is join in’ you an’ the mistress fer lunch,’ she said, hurrying out of the room.
Opal rose and stared sightlessly out of the window. The days just seemed to be rolling aimlessly into each other, and sometimes she was so bored she could have screamed. Yet still, she couldn’t force herself to set foot out of the door.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Matthew was feeling very low. Suzanne had been a tower of strength throughout his wife’s illness, barely leaving her side for the last few months of her life, but now that Alicia was gone Matthew was keen to introduce Susie into society. She would be seventeen that year and was turning into a beautiful young woman, and he felt it was unfair that she had sacrificed so much to care for her adoptive mother.
‘Here,’ he told her one morning over breakfast as he handed her a generous wad of notes. ‘You haven’t been shopping for ages. Go and spoil yourself.’
She frowned as she stared at him doubtfully. ‘But I don’t need anything.’
Matthew laughed. ‘Since when have women ever had to need anything before treating themselves? Why, when your mother was well, she could shop whether she needed anything or not, as I found out to my cost. Now go on, I insist. You’ve spent far too long cooped up in the house and it’s time you got out and about with people your own age again.’
He was painfully aware that once the novelty of adopting a child had worn off, Alicia had had little time for her daughter; and yet as her health failed, Susie had nursed her lovingly with rarely a word of complaint. Matthew had pointed out on m
ore than one occasion that he was willing to employ a full-time nurse, but Susie wouldn’t hear of it. And now he was determined to make it up to her.
‘Very well, thank you,’ Susie told him. ‘I might go into the city this morning, but I won’t go in the carriage. I’ll walk; it’ll do me good.’
And so, an hour later, warmly wrapped in a thick coat and a pretty bonnet, she set off. It was nice to be out and about again and eventually she reached the main street and started to window-shop. Some of the displays were beautiful and she wandered along enjoying the fact that she didn’t have to rush home. Eventually she stopped in front of a jewellers’ to admire the display in the window. They were black opals and she was sure she had never seen anything so beautiful. As she wandered on, she became aware of an old lady shuffling towards her. She had nothing but a thin shawl wrapped about her shoulders and her sparse grey hair stood out like a wispy halo about her bare head. Her shoes, or what was left of them, were flapping off her feet and her clothes were threadbare and dirty.
Poor old thing, Susie thought as she fumbled in her purse for some coins. The old dear looked like a hearty meal would do her the world of good. Then, when the woman was almost abreast of her, she raised her head, and Susie gasped.
Even now, after all the time that had elapsed since she had last seen her, she would have recognised her anywhere.
‘Miss Deverell!’ The words had left Susie’s lips before she could stop them, and the woman paused in her shuffling to peer at her through bleary eyes. As recognition dawned in them, her lips curled back from her rotten teeth in a sneer. Susie noticed she was clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap gin in her claw-like hand and she shuddered as she caught a whiff of her. She smelled as if she hadn’t bathed in months.
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