by Val Wood
‘No.’ She gazed up at him. ‘I’m not doing that.’
‘Then I’ll wait,’ he said steadily. ‘I’m a patient man. I can wait a bit longer.’
When William came in later after showing Billy his pigs, he was jubilant. ‘I’ve done a deal with Mr Brown.’ He beamed. ‘We’ve shaken hands on it, man to man!’
Jenny was sitting by the fireside. She put down her sewing. ‘Good.’ She smiled. ‘Are you both pleased?’
‘Yes.’ William sat down on the floor by her feet. ‘I said to him that I wouldn’t expect any favours just because he was your friend, and he said that he wouldn’t give any; that he didn’t do business that way.’ He pressed his lips together and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m pleased with my part of the bargain. Mr Brown said he would send his waggon to collect as soon as I wrote to him that the pigs were in prime condition.’ He gazed pensively into the fire. ‘That’s my very first order, Mama! I think that’s how I’d like to do business. Selling directly to butchers, I mean. Rather than sending to markets. Shaking hands on a deal!’
He leant his head on her knee and she ruffled her hand through his thick brown hair, thinking how fast her youngest child was growing up. ‘I wish I’d known my father,’ he murmured. ‘Thomas says that he’s not all that bothered, but I wish I’d known him, even if only for a short time.’
‘He would have been proud of you, William,’ she said, and her hand strayed to his rounded cheek and stroked it. ‘He would have been proud of all of you.’
‘Yes, but –’ He looked up at her. ‘It’s just that – when I was talking to Mr Brown today, he sort of treated me like a grown-up person and asked me questions and my opinion, and Grandfather doesn’t do that; and I thought that –’ His voice trailed away as he pondered. ‘And I thought that if I’d had a father, I would have liked him to be like Mr Brown. Was Papa like him?’
‘No, he wasn’t,’ she answered slowly. ‘Not like him at all. He was more like your grandfather; rather impatient, but he was very loving,’ she added, anxious not to give the wrong impression of Stephen. ‘He would have cared for you and wanted what was best for you.’ And if Stephen had still been alive, she thought, perhaps we wouldn’t be living here now, for he and John Laslett could not have lived under the same roof.
Charles Esmond called again a month later and so did Billy, though not on the same day. Mr Esmond brought with him an invitation requesting the pleasure of their company at a reception the following week, at which they would meet his mother and he would make the acqaintance of his new neighbours.
‘I have a housekeeper now,’ he said, ‘and she’s employed some staff for me. She and my mother are in cahoots, I think, for it has been taken out of my hands.’
Jenny started to shake. Suppose she knew the servants? Suppose the neighbours recognized her? Would she be disgraced? And if she was, then so would Christina be. She started to consider that if they accepted the invitation now, then on the day she could plead that she was unwell. Perhaps Arabella would accompany Christina instead? She looked at her daughter’s innocent, smiling face and Charles Esmond gazing back at her, and knew that it was too late. They were in love.
‘You should go!’ Billy said, when she told him of the invitation. ‘Don’t hide, Jenny. You were acquitted. Face up to whatever it is you’re afraid of.’
‘The past has come back to haunt me,’ she wrote that night. ‘Will I always be retreating from it? Can I go to that house again, where once I was a lowly kitchen maid, and enter through the front door as a guest? What memories, what spectres will be waiting there for me?’
She looked in the mirror and tried to see herself as she had been at that time. Have I changed? she wondered. Do I look the same? My mother said that I was a plain girl; perhaps that will be my saving grace. If I had been born beautiful, then I would be remembered and recognized.
On the morning of the reception, she did indeed feel unwell and Christina fussed around her, bringing warm drinks, putting her feet up on a footstool and wrapping a shawl round her shoulders. ‘Oh, Mama, please don’t be ill! I do so want to meet Charles’s mother. Oh,’ she said. ‘That sounds awful, so selfish, but oh dear.’ She clasped her hands to her cheek. ‘I do so want to meet her and have her approval. Charles has told her about me, he said.’
‘You will meet her,’ Jenny said weakly. ‘I promise. I just need to rest awhile before we set out.’ She swallowed hard and asked, ‘Are you fond of him, Christina? You are very young to make a commitment.’
‘I love him, Mama. I know that I do.’ Christina’s skirts billowed as she knelt by her mother. ‘I knew that the very first day I met him, even though I do realize that I don’t know any other young men with whom I can compare him. But I don’t want to. I only want Charles.’ She looked so earnest that Jenny’s heart went out to her. If only, she thought. If only I could be so sure of her happiness. But what if Charles turns against her, or his mother does, if they should find out about me?
‘Leave me for a while,’ she said. ‘Go and prepare yourself whilst I rest. And Christina –’
‘Yes?’ Christina turned towards her, her face bright and eager.
‘I only want what’s good for you,’ Jenny said softly. ‘I’ve only ever wanted that: but if it doesn’t turn out ’way you expect, remember that life doesn’t end because of a broken heart. There’ll come another love to live for, another life worth dying for. I know that only too well.’
‘Mama!’ Christina came back towards her. ‘I’m so selfish. I’m thinking only of myself and not how lonely you’ll be without me if I should marry and go away.’
‘I won’t be lonely.’ Jenny struggled with her fears. ‘Now, off you go and prepare yourself. I shall be rested by noon.’
John Laslett had given in some time ago to Arabella’s demands to change their ancient carriage and had bought a single-horse brougham. It was dark navy blue with red trimmings and leather upholstery. The driver, who doubled as a gardener and general maintenance man, wore a matching navy blue cape with red edging, and a top hat.
As they arrived in Beverley and drove along New Walk, Jenny reflected that she would never have thought that she would return in such style. And as they drew up outside Mr Esmond’s house, the house she had known so well, she saw that theirs was the finest carriage amongst the dogcarts, gigs and hired vehicles. To her relief, she saw Billy’s trap among the rest.
Charles Esmond, who must have been watching from the window, rushed down the path to greet them. Jenny smiled at his enthusiasm and wondered if his mother would approve of her son’s greeting his guests so informally, without waiting for the housekeeper or maid to open the door.
‘I’m so glad that you could come, Mrs Laslett,’ he said. ‘And you too, of course, Miss Laslett.’ His eyes became dreamy as he gazed at Christina. ‘So very pleased. Come in, come in do, and say that you like my house.’
Jenny took a breath to control her tremors as she entered the front door and saw again the hall with its polished floor, where she had knelt with dustpan and brush, polish and duster. ‘It’s charming,’ she croaked. ‘So very nice.’ Her heart was hammering, her throat was dry and she closed her eyes for a second as she remembered the last time she was here, the sound of a gunshot, the sudden silence, the blood and then the shouting, the screaming, the heavy tread of boots on the floor, before she was led away.
‘May I take your cloak, ma’am?’ a voice behind her asked politely, and Jenny turned round, unbuttoning the neck ribbon of her garment. She stopped, her fingers seizing up as if paralysed. Mrs Judson stood before her.
‘Perhaps I can help with that, ma’am?’ the housekeeper said. ‘It seems to have caught in a knot.’
‘Yes,’ Jenny whispered. ‘If you would, please.’ She lifted her chin whilst Mrs Judson, without any recognition on her face, unfastened the ribbon, and drew the cloak from round Jenny’s shoulders.
‘And may I take yours, Miss Laslett?’ Christina was unfastening her jacket, which she had painstakin
gly edged with pale blue ribbon to match her gown. Charles hovered near, looking as if he wanted to help. ‘Mr Esmond, perhaps you would like to take your guests through to meet your mother?’ Mrs Judson suggested with a little nod, indicating the door to the sitting room.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Charles tore his eyes away from Christina and put out his hand for them to accompany him. ‘This way.’ Jenny lifted her head to look at Mrs Judson, but the housekeeper simply gave a deferential bob of her knee and backed away with the outdoor clothes.
Did she know me? Jenny felt sick. Was she pretending that she didn’t? She hasn’t changed very much. Just a little older. Strange, when I was young, I always thought her ancient, and yet she can’t have been. It was merely her dour manner, which made her seem old.
Charles led them into the sitting room, which Jenny remembered as always being formal with straight-backed chairs, chaise longues and dark velvet curtains. Now it was transformed by comfortable sofas with flowered shawls thrown over them, and brocade curtains at the window, small tables set with china ornaments and vases full of flowers. I see his mother’s hand here, Jenny thought. What kind of woman is she to adopt this style?
She quickly discovered, for a plump smiling woman came bustling towards them, a child in her arms and another clinging to her voluminous skirts. ‘So delighted you could come,’ she cried out in a merry voice. ‘You must be Mrs St John Laslett, and this is Miss Christina? I am so pleased to meet you. Charles has talked of no-one else!’
She gathered them along into a group of people who were sitting or standing by the fire, which was lit and fuelled by blazing logs. ‘Come along, my dears,’ she carolled, ‘and be introduced, for you will know no-one, being from the country.’
She introduced them to Charles’s neighbours and Jenny eased out a sigh, for she didn’t know them or they her. They smiled politely and engaged in sterile conversation. Then Billy came into the room followed by Harry and his wife. One or two of the guests looked rather coldly at them, and Jenny guessed that they were not in the habit of socializing with tradesmen, but Billy was dressed in narrow grey trousers and waistcoat, with a dark frock coat, and she thought that had these people not already known, then no-one would have guessed that he was a butcher.
Harry too was tidy in brown moleskin breeches and a tweed jacket, whilst his wife was wearing an amazing concoction of flowered muslin and a fruit and feathered bonnet. She greeted her hostess and Jenny with cries of delight and the other guests as effusively as if she had known them for years. She had brought her daughter Amy, who came to stand at Christina’s side, and presently the two girls took charge of Mrs Esmond’s children and took them away into a corner of the room to play.
‘You don’t mind the children here, do you, my dears?’ Mrs Esmond asked the assembled company. ‘You see, childhood is so fleeting that I can’t bear to part with them. Why, my goodness, it seems only yesterday that Charles was in nankeen trousers and here he is setting up his own household.’
‘We knew the Ingrams when they lived here, years ago,’ an elderly gentleman with a fine set of white whiskers remarked. ‘Don’t think they had any offspring.’
‘Yes, they did, dear,’ his wife interrupted. ‘A son and daughter. The boy died. An accident of some kind. It was in the newspapers at the time.’ She put her fingers to her forehead and Jenny held her breath. ‘Can’t quite remember the details –’
Mrs Judson and a young maid, who was holding a tray with glasses of sherry, appeared at her side, distracting her. ‘Would you like to sit down, ma’am?’ Mrs Judson asked the elderly lady. ‘Perhaps you might be more comfortable?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Esmond, as if concluding the conversation. ‘It was a tragedy. Poor young man. We don’t talk about it. Would anyone care for a biscuit with their sherry?’
When Jenny looked round again during a break in the chatter, she realized that Christina and Charles had disappeared, and that Amy Johnson was alone with the children. She murmured to Billy that she must go and look for them, for it wasn’t seemly that they should go off together. Billy gave her a slight smile and said that he would go and find them and bring them back, which he did a few minutes later.
Mrs Esmond whispered into Jenny’s ear, ‘I think we have two lovebirds here.’ She smiled. ‘Charles has spoken of your daughter constantly.’
Jenny bit her lip. ‘They are very young, Mrs Esmond. Christina is not yet seventeen.’
‘I was not much more when I married,’ Mrs Esmond confided. ‘And you must have been young too? Charles is my first son. He is twenty-one, and I have a daughter of nineteen, another son of fifteen, a daughter of twelve, and these two young ones.’ She gave a beaming smile. ‘And I am not finished yet. I love my babies. They give such joy, do you not agree? Oh, but forgive me! I forget. You are a widow. How old is your youngest child?’
‘He’s now twelve,’ Jenny said quietly. ‘The youngest of five.’
‘You should consider marrying again,’ Mrs Esmond proposed. ‘You are far too young to live alone without a husband!’
Mrs Johnson caught their conversation and gave Mrs Esmond a knowing look and then, to Jenny’s mortification, indicated Billy with a glance. ‘Just what I said to Harry,’ she said in a loud whisper.
‘I think I would like to live in Beverley,’ Mrs Esmond said to the assembled throng. ‘Everyone is so very pleasant. I will speak to my husband on my return home and ask his opinion on the matter.’
‘In what business is your husband, madam?’ another elderly gentleman boomed. ‘Is he able to choose where he should live?’
‘Why indeed yes, sir,’ Mrs Esmond answered in a surprised tone. ‘He is not in business at all. He is the eldest son of a gentleman and may live wherever he pleases.’
Jenny hid a wry smile at the look of astonishment on the faces of some of the gathering. They assumed, she thought, from Mrs Esmond’s free and easy manner that they were tradespeople, and were prepared only to tolerate them. We shall see now if their condescending attitude will change.
As they prepared to leave, Mrs Judson and a young maid appeared in the hall with their outdoor garments, and Jenny remembered how the housekeeper, in the days of the Ingrams, always seemed to know when guests were leaving and bustled the maids to gather together the coats and cloaks, umbrellas and top hats.
Now she stood behind Jenny to help her with her cloak, and almost on a breath Jenny heard the whisper in her ear. ‘It’s good to see you again, Mrs Laslett.’ Jenny turned round, her lips parted in a question, but Mrs Judson’s face again was expressionless, though she gave a slight nod of her head. Am I fantasizing? Jenny thought. Is it what I want to hear and therefore I imagined it? But Mrs Judson put her hands beneath Jenny’s chin to fasten the neck ribbon, and as she tied the bow, she gently patted her neck with a feather-like motion of her fingers.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
‘Christina is to be married. Charles Esmond came to ask my permission which I gave, as there was no reason that I could reveal why they should not be married. He is a pleasant young man, of good connections and prospects, and they are obviously in love.’ Jenny pulled her shawl about her ears as she wrote. ‘It seems strange to think that had Christina been born a boy, he might have inherited the house in New Walk. As it is, she will now marry into it.
‘Christmas has gone and January is bitterly cold, but we have April to look forward to, which is when they will be married. My darling daughter, who has shared so much with me, will be seventeen and her husband twenty-two. I am very happy for them both but filled with anxiety and apprehension about the future if my past should be discovered.
‘I asked John Laslett for his view of the marriage as a matter of courtesy as he has been very supportive of Christina. He gave his blessing and has promised her a dowry. He appears to have forgotten that Stephen left her Lavender Cott and I chose not to remind him.
‘Johnny and Serena both came home for Christmas – home! Well, it is the only one they have known or re
member, and they seemed pleased to be here, though both are very enthusiastic about their lives elsewhere. Arabella has promised Serena that when she finally comes back after her schooling abroad, she’ll take her to London to stay with John Laslett’s sister and they will attend the balls and social gatherings as young ladies do. Serena was delighted and although she hugged and kissed me, I knew that her life was going to be quite different from mine, and that one day I would lose her. As I pondered on this, I thought of my own mother and wondered if she had had the same thoughts, when I left for Beverley.
‘Johnny is tall and handsome, and much like Stephen in looks and temperament. He brought two friends to spend Christmas with us; they all had time off from the military school – leave, they call it, and the two young men spent much of their time making sheep’s eyes at Serena, to Johnny’s scorn and Serena’s amusement. I think they would have done the same with Christina, but Charles Esmond, who had been invited also, stayed steadfastly by her side and they had no eyes but for each other.
‘For Christmas dinner we ate a fat goose, and a leg of pork courtesy of William. The salted crackling was crisp and the meat full of flavour. William tasted it thoughtfully and pronounced it good and showed no emotion whatsoever although he had reared it. I looked round the table at the happy smiling faces, and wondered why I felt sad and lonely.
‘I had invited Billy to spend Christmas Day with us, but he refused, giving all kinds of excuses. But he came on Boxing Day, bringing a present of embroidered handkerchiefs for me, and a sirloin of beef for the kitchen. It turned out that he had spent Christmas Day alone. His mother had gone to her daughter’s house and he had eaten a quiet meal in one of the Beverley inns. Then he said he had gone to his empty house, lit a fire and spent the day reading and thinking of me. That’s what he told me as we took an energetic walk around the meadows.
‘Thomas and William spend most of their time outdoors as soon as they can escape from the schoolroom. Their grandfather asked them if they’d like to go away to boarding school, but both declined. Thomas, in fact, would like to leave his lessons behind altogether and be a full-time farmer; and so we, his grandfather and I, have said we will consider it in the autumn. Had he been a rural labourer’s son, of course, he would have left home by now and be working on another farm, and I don’t think he quite understands his very great advantages. But he will, one day.