by Val Wood
It was the gypsy, Floure, standing outside the house, and further down the drive was a man, holding the reins of a shaggy horse.
‘You’d better come, lady,’ the gypsy said in a low voice. ‘Your manush is sick.’
Jenny felt fear clutch her. ‘Sick? What? How? Has he been hurt?’
Floure nodded. ‘An accident. His leg was trapped in some ironwork; somebody brought him home. We put a poultice on it, but he wouldn’t send for you. It’s only now that he said I could come to fetch you. He’s sick with fever.’
But why didn’t he send for me before? Jenny wondered. Did he not want to let his father know that he was working as a navvy? ‘Has he seen a doctor?’ she asked and felt a nausea come over her when the gypsy answered that he hadn’t.
I’ll have to tell Mr Laslett, she thought. He’ll want to know why I need the carriage in a hurry.
She sent the lad out to look for him and told him to say it was urgent. ‘I have to go home, Mr Laslett,’ she told him when he came hurrying in. ‘I’ve had a message to say that Stephen is sick. He’s had some kind of accident.’
John Laslett grunted. ‘You’ll need the carriage? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes, please. I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient. Perhaps if we could go first thing in the morning?’
‘We? You’re not thinking of taking the children?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s time we went home. We’ve been here for a long stay and it will save taking ’carriage later.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘No use taking the children if he’s sick. He’ll need to be quiet. What’s wrong with him, anyway?’ He looked at her from beneath his shaggy eyebrows and she thought she saw concern.
‘I – I’m not sure. He’s had an accident and has a fever. I must go back straight away.’
‘Mmm.’ He considered for a moment. Then he banged on the floor with his stick as if making a decision, and the dogs jumped up and looked at him expectantly. ‘Not you,’ he growled at them, and they resumed their places by the hall fire. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave the children here and go within the hour.’ He nodded at her look of astonishment. ‘Can’t let you go alone,’ he said gruffly. ‘The weather’s bad out there and it’ll be worse tomorrow.’
‘But I must take ’children – Thomas –’
‘He’ll manage for a few hours. We’ll come straight back.’
‘I’m sorry, you don’t understand. Stephen has sent for me. I have to stay with him. Want to stay.’ Her voice rose as she tried to convince him of her intentions.
‘We’ll bring him back.’ He stared her in the eyes. ‘He’ll be more comfortable here and we’ll get a doctor if he needs one.’
She gave a startled exclamation. ‘Mr Laslett! Don’t you know your own son?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘He’d rather die than come back here.’
The colour drained from John Laslett’s face at her words. ‘He told me once that I’d have to beg him to come back.’ His eyes shifted away from her. ‘Well, I’ll do that if necessary. But I think he’ll come back for the sake of his sons.’
‘You’ll make that a proviso, will you?’ she said boldly. ‘You’ll tell him to come home or else you’ll cut his sons off from their inheritance? Your own grandsons!’
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ he shouted. ‘You don’t know half of what happened or the angry words that were said. You’re just a chit of a girl!’
‘It is to do with me! I’m Stephen’s wife and mother of his children and I won’t be shouted at! And what’s more,’ she said, ‘I do know half! I know what Stephen told me. I haven’t heard your half of the story or what reason you had for robbing your son of his family – his mother and sisters whom he dearly loved.’
‘He was under the influence of that woman.’ He glared at her but lowered his voice. ‘That’s why he left. He was only a boy and she took him away from us!’
‘No,’ she declared. ‘She did not. He left of his own accord. He couldn’t give her up. He loved her. Still does,’ she added, her voice breaking, knowing in her heart that that was true. ‘He’ll never regret Agnes, but he does regret not being able to see ’rest of his family. And that’s why I must take his children home,’ she said finally. ‘He’ll want to see them.’
He sat down heavily in a chair and slumped forward, his head in his hands. ‘I’ve made mistakes, I admit that,’ he muttered. ‘But he gave up so much. More than I ever could for a woman. But damn it.’ He lifted his head to face her. ‘I want him back. I miss him and I want him to have what is his.’ He gave a great sigh. ‘I’m fifty-eight. I don’t know if I can last out twenty years before young Johnny can take over the reins here. We must persuade him to come home.’
‘Not we,’ she said. ‘You must do that if you really want him to.’
She decided to compromise. Since John Laslett had suggested travelling that evening, rather than wait until morning, she was quite keen to agree, knowing that she would have an anxious night otherwise. She would leave Christina and the twins – it was almost their bedtime in any case – and would take Thomas with her. She could have left him with Dolly, but felt she should make some kind of stand and not let her father-in-law think that he could have everything his own way.
They didn’t speak much during the journey; Jenny huddled into a blanket and kept Thomas close to her body. Dolly had given her and Mr Laslett a hot brick each to keep their feet warm and though the journey wasn’t so very far, there was sleety rain and it took them over an hour as the driver negotiated the horses round the slippery dips and bends of the road in the darkness, with only the swinging lantern to light their way. Jenny thought of the gypsies and wondered if they were travelling back that night or sheltering and waiting until morning. There had been no question of asking Mr Laslett to let them ride alongside, for he would have refused and so probably would they.
Stephen’s dogs were outside the house and barked and wagged their tails when they heard the carriage. She reckoned that perhaps they were hungry and glad to see her. A small beam of light shone from the kitchen window. Jenny turned to Mr Laslett as she lifted the sneck, and as if he knew what she was about to say, he said quickly and gruffly, ‘I’ll stay here. You must ask him first if I can come in.’
The oil lamp was low and the fire in the grate almost out. Jenny wondered if the gypsies had lit it, for Stephen was lying on a makeshift bed on the floor. A blanket covered him but one leg was exposed. The cloth of his breeches had been cut and a bloody bandage was wound over his knee.
She put the sleeping Thomas down on a chair and approached Stephen cautiously, afraid of startling him. ‘Stephen,’ she whispered. ‘Stephen! I’ve come home!’
She knelt down beside him. He was asleep or unconscious, she didn’t know which. His forehead, when she touched it, was wet with sweat and she put her hand to his chest and felt the heat. She got to her feet and called to Mr Laslett outside the door. ‘You’d better come in. He needs a doctor.’
John Laslett looked down at his son and Jenny saw a pulse throb at his temple and he swallowed hard. ‘Whom can I fetch? Do you know a doctor nearby?’
‘Only Dr Hill. Stephen’s friend. He lives near Etton. I can give you his address, though I’ve never been there.’
‘George Hill? Does he keep in touch?’ He rubbed his hand over his chin. ‘I didn’t know. I’ll fetch him. I know where he lives.’
When he had gone, Jenny built up the fire with some wood which had been left in the hearth, then went outside to fill a pan from the water butt. The air was sharp, crisping her nostrils and making her ears tingle. The sky was full of stars, but as she lowered her gaze she saw the dark shadow of the embankment and the railway waggons upon it.
She poured cold water into a bowl and bathed Stephen’s brow, and then heated the rest over the fire to wash him down. He stirred and moved his head from side to side, murmuring something as she unfastened the buttons on his wet shirt. Then she saw the bruising and
cuts on his chest. Black, blue and purple, from his collarbone almost to his waist. He had sustained a much worse injury than he had admitted to the gypsies.
‘What’s happened, Jenny?’ George Hill knelt down at Stephen’s side. ‘Where’s he been to get injuries like this? It looks as if he’s been run down by something – a waggon, or something heavy anyway.’
‘I wasn’t here,’ Jenny admitted. ‘I’ve been staying at Laslett Hall for the last few weeks. Someone came for me. We’ve only just arrived.’
Dr Hill’s eyebrows rose but he made no comment.
‘He’s been working on that damned railway line, that’s what he’s been doing!’ Mr Laslett broke in. ‘I’ve always said those infernal trains were dangerous, but no-one ever listened!’
‘Trains are no more dangerous than a runaway horse and waggon if you should get in the way of one, Mr Laslett,’ Dr Hill said quietly, as he felt for Stephen’s pulse. ‘But why would Stephen be working on the railway? He’s a farmer.’
‘It was to earn some extra money over ’winter,’ Jenny admitted. ‘He had to give in to ’railway company and let the line come onto his land, so he said he might as well take advantage of it as sit and brood about it.’
Mr Laslett humphed. ‘And I’ll bet they haven’t paid any compensation for the land yet, either? Nor will they pay his wages whilst he’s injured.’
‘And would you, sir, if any of your workers were off sick?’ Dr Hill rose to his feet. ‘Farm workers are notoriously ill done by, as I have often seen.’
‘Please,’ Jenny interrupted. ‘What about Stephen? Is he going to be all right?’
George Hill took off his heavy coat and his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. ‘I’m bothered about his chest. He might have crushed his ribs. But I’ll take a look at his leg injury first. I’ll need some warm water to clean it.’
‘Why is he unconscious?’ Jenny asked as she poured hot water into a bowl. ‘Surely ’pain would keep him awake?’
‘Nature’s way,’ the doctor said briefly, and set about cleaning the leg wound, which was deep and bloody.
John Laslett had been pacing the floor, one hand on his chin, and the other hand behind his back, clenching and unclenching. ‘We’ll take him home,’ he said suddenly. ‘We can take care of him there – hire a nurse.’
‘He is at home,’ Dr Hill answered, without looking at the older man. ‘And he can’t be moved at present. Anyway, Mrs Laslett is a good nurse. She can look after him.’ He turned his head to her and smiled. ‘Can’t you, Jenny?’
She was grateful for his support and for remembering how she had looked after Agnes. She nodded. ‘Yes. Of course I can. But what about ’children? I’ve only brought Thomas with me. They’ll have to come home.’
‘No,’ Mr Laslett said quickly. ‘They’re all right where they are. They’ll come to no harm. We’ll look after them until – until Stephen can be moved.’
George Hill straightened up. He gazed directly at John Laslett. ‘And then? What then do you propose for your son, sir?’ There was heavy emphasis on the words ‘your son’, and Jenny realized that the doctor knew all that had gone before between Stephen and his father, and that John Laslett would not be able to take advantage of his son, whilst he was unable to make decisions for himself, or of her either.
Mr Laslett’s cheeks flushed. ‘Well, he can – if he wants to, that is – come back to Laslett Hall.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
‘Don’t let the old man bully you,’ was George Hill’s parting shot to her as he was leaving, saying he would come back within the next few days. Mr Laslett had already gone.
‘That’s what Stephen once said,’ Jenny told him. ‘And I won’t. I don’t.’
‘You’ve changed, Jenny,’ the doctor commented. ‘You’re a much more assured young woman than you were when I first met you.’
But I’m not, she thought as she returned to the house. I’m still the same inside; it’s just a front that I put on to hide my real feelings, though I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone take advantage of me. I’ve always marked out my own destiny.
She did her usual chores in between tending Stephen and Thomas. She drew water, baked bread, chopped wood and fed the few hens, though there were no eggs, and she wondered what had happened to the pig and the goat since she had last been home. The horse wasn’t in the stable and neither was the waggon.
Stephen’s father sent the carriage two days later with Arabella, a maid and Christina, who, Arabella said, had insisted on coming to see her papa. They also brought meat, vegetables and a game pie, which Cook had sent, and blankets and pillows.
‘It’s very thoughtful of your father, Arabella, but we have blankets and pillows.’
‘He was most concerned that Stephen was sleeping on the floor,’ Arabella said. ‘If we could have found room for a truckle bed in the carriage he would have sent that too.’
‘He’s only on ’floor because we can’t get him upstairs,’ Jenny explained. ‘As soon as he is able to he can go up to bed, though it’s easier for me to have him down here where I can keep an eye on him and talk to him when he’s awake.’
Stephen had woken, but was in considerable pain each time he took a deep breath. Dr Hill had left medication for him, and she wondered if it contained laudanum, for Stephen always dropped off to sleep after he had taken a dose. Just as Agnes did when she took it, she remembered.
‘I’ll be glad when you come back, Jenny,’ Arabella moaned. ‘I’m really not up to looking after everyone. My health is not what it might be.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ Jenny pointed out. ‘Nothing at all! And if Stephen doesn’t want to come back to Laslett Hall then I won’t either. I’ll come on a visit but not to stay indefinitely.’
‘But who will run the house if you’re not there?’ Arabella seemed astonished. ‘And the children need you. Johnny cried for you the other night, it was quite pitiful. I could do nothing for him!’
‘But the children will be back here!’ Jenny stared at Arabella in dismay and hugged Thomas to her. ‘We shan’t leave them. They belong here with Stephen and me!’
‘But, Jenny,’ Arabella sat back in the chair and folded her hands on her lap, ‘I overheard Papa telling Dolly that the children would be staying and that he would have one of the rooms made into a nursery. Dolly was pleased, because he said that she could have charge of them, whilst you were away, that is,’ she added hastily as she saw Jenny’s fierce expression.
‘You can tell your father that I did not have children for his benefit,’ she muttered between clenched lips. The young maid had gone outside with Christina who wanted to look for the hens, which were running amok in the orchard. ‘And if Mr Laslett wants to see his grandchildren then he’s going to have to apologize to Stephen before he comes back.’
A low weak chuckle came from the bed on the floor. ‘Well said, Jenny, but it won’t happen. Father’s pride will not let him apologize. He’d rather cut the nose off his face.’ Stephen gave a nod of acknowledgement of his sister’s presence. ‘Why are you here, Arabella?’
‘I came because you’re sick!’ Arabella drew nearer to him. ‘And Father said I had to come as he can’t; his gout is playing up again.’
‘Sick?’ Stephen eased himself up and then winced. ‘I’m not sick.’
‘Stephen!’ Arabella murmured. ‘You’re going to have to meet Father halfway, you do realize? If you’re prepared to come home, then he will welcome you, in his own way of course. I think he’s willing to say he might have made a mistake.’
‘But he’s not prepared to meet me here, in the home I made because I was turned out of my own.’ His voice was thick, his words slurred.
‘He has been,’ Jenny interrupted. ‘Your father brought me when I first got the message from the gypsies. He wouldn’t let me travel alone.’
‘Message? What message?’ He looked around the kitchen. ‘What’s going on? Why –’ He winced again as he tried to get up. ‘You’d b
etter send for Hill, Jenny. I feel really bad.’
Jenny knelt on the floor beside him. ‘Don’t you remember what happened, Stephen? You’ve had an accident. The gypsies came to your father’s house to ask me to come home.’
He closed his eyes in concentration. ‘Something! Yes, somebody brought me back. Two men. In the waggon. But I don’t know why. Or even where I was. Get Hill to call,’ he repeated. He spoke quickly and breathlessly. ‘How can we get a message to him? Arabella, could you go and fetch him?’
‘He’s coming again. He’s been already,’ Jenny reassured him. ‘Your father went to fetch him.’
‘Did he?’ He seemed astonished. ‘He’s been here? Father has?’
‘Yes. He wanted to take you back to Laslett Hall, but Dr Hill said you couldn’t be moved.’
‘Quite right,’ he muttered. ‘There’s something tight round my chest. Have a look will you, Jenny? See what it is.’
‘You’re bruised,’ she said, and repeated, ‘You’ve had an accident.’ She turned to Arabella. ‘I think you’d better go, Arabella. Stephen obviously isn’t well. Take Christina back with you and perhaps you’d come again in a day or two?’
Arabella hurriedly collected her gloves and scarf. ‘Yes. Yes. Or I’ll ask Papa to call. Shall I, Stephen?’ She observed her brother anxiously. ‘Should Papa come?’ She seemed like a little girl, unsure and about to cry.
Stephen didn’t answer but closed his eyes as if he didn’t want to make a decision. But he spoke as she reached the door. ‘Do whatever Jenny says, Bella. She knows best.’
Christina bade a tearful goodbye to Stephen and covered the baby Thomas with kisses. Jenny promised that they would see her again soon. When they had left she propped Stephen up on the pillows which Arabella had left behind and spooned him some thin soup.
‘I want to ask you something,’ she said. ‘Are you up to listening to me?’