‘For the time being. Now get out of my sight, you slut!’
There was no harder work than that of the kitchen and the wash-house. Hester found it taxed her strength as it had never done in the past and she collapsed into her bed at night. As her pregnancy advanced she became more and more exhausted. She guessed that Jack would try to find out if the culprit was among the patrons of the tavern and assumed a check had been made on the company she had kept during the period before her reunion with John. Over and over again she thanked Providence that her meetings with him afterwards had not come to anyone’s notice.
In early January, Martha voiced a suspicion that had been steadily growing in her mind. ‘You don’t suppose Hester took up with John Bateman again, do you?’ she said to Jack. They were alone in the taproom and he had just set up a cask of ale.
‘She said the man was married,’ he reminded her, wiping his hands on a rag.
‘That could have been a lie to throw you off the scent. Remember you had her in a desperate corner.’
He considered for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I warned her off seeing Bateman and that put an end to it.’
‘That’s what you thought,’ she emphasized, her tone half-mocking. ‘As it happens she went on seeing him after that, which was why I chose to have a discreet word with Harwood and he thanked me for it. I’ve no doubt that he called Bateman to heel.’
Jack showed mild surprise at the action his wife had taken unbeknown to him and then he shrugged. ‘That’s it then. No sane fellow in the final stages of his apprenticeship would risk his master’s displeasure a second time.’
Martha proved persistent. ‘Suppose Hester was infatuated with him and maybe he was with her. What if he couldn’t stay away from her? We know how foolish the young can be.’
Jack’s brows drew together suspiciously. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever really noticed the lad. I only remember what Harwood told me and I certainly didn’t see him the evening he was in the taproom talking to Hester. What’s he like?’
‘Tall and broad-shouldered and slim-built. Fair hair and good-looking in his way.’ She stopped, seeing her husband’s face had taken on a purplish tinge as his temper soared up in him. His huge fist banged down on the bar, making everything vibrate.
‘By God! That fits the description of a man seen with her near Tower Bridge by someone I know. Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘Because you never thought to tell me you had any description,’ she retaliated. ‘What are you going to do?’
He threw aside the rag he was holding. ‘I’m going straight to Harwood before Hester gets wind of this! I want the truth out of Bateman before she has the chance to cover up for him again!’ Dashing through to the office, he grabbed his caped greatcoat and thrust his arms into it. Martha followed to take his tricorn hat down from another peg for him, excited by this development.
‘You can’t be sure about Bateman being the guilty one,’ she felt bound to advise.
He snatched his hat from her and jammed it on. ‘If I’m not right, nothing is lost. If I am, then Bateman is going to rue the day he ever set eyes on my sister!’
Left on her own in the office, Martha saw through its window into the side hall used by the servants that Hester was taking a large basket of laundry through to the wash-house. As soon as she was out of sight, Martha left the office and made for the stairs. In Hester’s room she shut the door behind her and looked around. Surely somewhere she could discover a chance link with John Bateman in case denials should make Jack’s errand fruitless. It was not that she expected to find love letters, Hester being illiterate, but girls liked to keep love tokens and something bearing a name or initials might come to light.
She began a thorough search. It was not the first time she had investigated Hester’s possessions, although the previous time she had had only to open a drawer and turn back its contents to find the store of baby clothes, which had finally confirmed her suspicions and led to the carefully planned denouement in the bath-house. Hester’s leather folder lay on the shelf and she took it down to open it, hoping it would contain a sketch of the man in question. Only drawings of flowers and trees and birds came to light, plus some old yellowed papers on which sketches of herbs gave their owner the proportions of various herbal remedies and ointments. There was also a pressed rose among the drawings that gave nothing away. She turned to the chest of drawers and the rest of the room, even standing on the stool to peer at the top of the bed’s canopy and shaking its curtains to make sure nothing was concealed in them. Being Hester’s domain, there was not even any dust. Stepping down again, her heel caught on a loose floorboard and a new possibility dawned. Nothing was revealed underneath it, but that did not deter her. On her hands and knees she began a systematic examination of every floorboard.
In the wash-house, Hester remembered she had not brought down one of her own petticoats she had meant to include. A scullery-boy was stoking the fire under the copper for her and she left him in charge as she went back to the tavern. Suspecting nothing, she opened her bed-chamber door to find Martha kneeling beside a prised-up floorboard, studying the marriage certificate she had just unfolded.
‘What are you doing?’ Hester was aghast. ‘How dare you touch my possessions!’ She darted forward to try to snatch the paper away. Martha, scrambling to her feet, whipped it behind her back.
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were wed?’ she rasped, her lips pinched back from her teeth. ‘You would have saved your brother a deal of misery!’
Hester stooped to pick up from the floor the little purse containing her wedding ring and from which Martha had taken the certificate. She held the purse to her in a protective gesture. ‘How you have pried!’ she accused in disgust. ‘Why couldn’t you have left well alone? John and I agreed to tell no one of our marriage. It was the only way of keeping our secret safe.’
Martha tossed the certificate contemptuously on to the bed and set her hands on her waist, arms akimbo. ‘What makes you think I can’t hold my tongue when needs must?’ she enquired slyly.
Hester jerked up her head, incredulous and uncertain. ‘Would you really stand by John and me until his apprenticeship is finished?’
It amused Martha to raise the girl’s hopes and then dash them again. ‘As it happens the matter is already out of my hands. It’s not a quarter of an hour since Jack and I finally put two and two together and decided John Bateman was the one. Jack is on his way now to see Harwood about it all.’
With a choked cry Hester, dropping the purse into her apron pocket, rushed for her cape. ‘I must stop him!’
‘You’ll never catch him up.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ She swung a muffler around her neck against the cold she would meet outside. ‘There’s always a chance he’ll be kept waiting. Maybe Master Harwood will be out somewhere. All I need is a little time to make Jack listen to me!’
Martha followed her out on to the landing and watched her hasten down the stairs. She shook her head. With the pace that Hester could make in her advanced condition, Jack should be almost home again before she reached the Harwood establishment.
*
In the workshop John was applying decoration to a silver alms dish. He held the chasing tool almost vertically between his left thumb and two first fingers, his other fingers free to steady his hand on the workpiece while the hammer in his right hand rhythmically commanded a smooth propelling motion, taking the design slowly and meticulously around the rim.
His concentration was broken abruptly when he was told Master Harwood wanted to see him immediately. Untying his leather apron, he hooked it forward into place. Slipping his waistcoat over his shirt-sleeves to make himself more presentable, he set off for the office.
When he knocked, Master Harwood’s voice bade him enter.
As soon as he saw Jack Needham in the office apprehension gripped him and he knew something was terribly wrong. He guessed at once that what was to be said had been arranged, because when
Jack, whose expression was one of intense rancour, leaped up from a chair to take a threatening step towards him, Master Harwood waved him back to his seat with an authoritative gesture. Jack obeyed, muttering to himself.
‘Bateman,’ Master Harwood began heavily, ‘an extremely serious accusation has been made against you. I’m hoping to hear it is without foundation, but I want the truth and nothing but the truth. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He could make a guess at what was coming. His whole future was hanging in the balance and waves of shock were coursing through him.
‘I had to remind you once before of the rules of apprenticeship, which strictly forbid fornication. Do you recall my words?’
‘I do.’
‘Then let me put this to you. Have you any reason to suppose you might be the cause of Master Needham’s sister, Hester, being in a state of pregnancy?’
There was only one reply that could be given. John’s jaw set rigidly, a nerve leaping on one side. ‘I am responsible.’
The statement seemed to echo in the quiet office. Jack’s features congested menacingly and again he shifted his weight, checked once more by Master Harwood, whose own expression had become savagely hostile. ‘From what I have been told, you have abandoned the girl. Is that correct?’
John felt a rush of anger at whatever twist of circumstances had defeated the conspiracy of silence that he and Hester had hoped to maintain. ‘Hester is my wife. We were married three months ago at the Fleet.’
He watched out of his own fury and despair the reaction of the two men in front of him. Both were astonished. Jack immediately mollified to a degree, Master Harwood developing a gleam of murder in his eyes while he spoke in a controlled and deadly manner.
‘Well, Bateman, that information will have changed everything for Master Needham.’ He turned in his chair to address Jack with no change of tone. ‘I suggest you return to the Heathcock now. There will be an opportunity for you to talk to your new brother-in-law later. At the present time I want to continue this interview on my own with him. He is still my apprentice.’
Jack had no choice but to leave. He stood up, looked uncertainly at John and then bowed to Master Harwood. ‘I trust this affair will make no difference to your esteemed patronage of my tavern —’
‘Good day to you.’
‘Er — good day, sir.’
No sooner had the door closed when Master Harwood gave full vent to his wrath. ‘Not only have you disobeyed me, Bateman, but you have deceived my daughter! You accepted my hospitality under false colours. As a married man you continued to play with Caroline’s affections, leading her to believe, as I did, that your intentions towards her were trustworthy and honourable. What have you to say about that?’
‘Caroline was under no illusion. We are friends and I value that friendship.’
‘The devil you do! At least there is an end to it now and she’ll be better for being rid of you.’ Pushing back his chair, he got up and went to a filing cabinet. He took from it a parchment document that John recognized as his contract of apprenticeship.
‘I have only a short time left to serve!’ he exclaimed hoarsely.
Master Harwood unfolded the contract and held it open wide as he looked menacingly at it. ‘Three months and two weeks and one day to be exact.’ Then deliberately he tore the contract in two.
John gave a furious roar of protest: ‘No!’
With equal anger, his hard face flushed and nostrils dilated, Harwood shook one half of the contract at him. ‘By your marriage you forfeited your right ever to be a master craftsman! And I promise you that I shall see to it that the registration of your apprenticeship with me is erased from the records of the Goldsmiths Hall! What’s more, I shall personally get you blacklisted from any workshop of renown in the whole of London. Now pack your belongings and get off my premises before I have you thrown out.’
John had never felt hatred for another human being before now. Even in the heat of the moment he could accept that the termination had been brought about by his own actions, but the humiliation and further penalties inflicted on him were a sheer injustice, a total misuse of power by a vengeful man. His grandfather’s rearing came to the fore without his being aware of it. He bowed as gentlemen did at the time of defeat, his dignity totally unimpaired, untouched and uncontaminated by the questionable tactics of his adversary. Square-shouldered, he went from the room.
Anyone glancing up as he went back through the workshop was able to see by his gaunt expression that some disaster had occurred. Opening his tool-box he began to pack away his tools, taking them from his workbench and from the racks on the wall nearby. They were the most precious possessions of any craftsman, having such meaning to those who worked in precious metals that they were only ever bequeathed to another of equal talent. His had been brand-new, a gift from his grandfather at the start of his apprenticeship, and they had become part of his hands, an extension of his fingers and his brain, the fount of his skills. Now he would be an ordinary journeyman for the rest of his life like thousands of others in his trade, able to register his punchmark if ever he should have the finance to set himself up as a goldsmith, but without the prestige of the Freedom, which he had lost for ever. And for what? An untimely rush of passion for a girl whom he could have possessed at any later date and whose face he could barely call to mind at the present angry moment, not having seen her for over three months.
‘Has the old man really given you the boot?’ It was Robin who had come from another part of the workshop, his broad face bearing a look of baffled disbelief. ‘Why? What happened?’
‘He found out that I’m a married man.’
‘What?’ Robin’s yell of astonishment was lost in the rattle of treadles worked by the women on nearby polishing machines. He followed John into his living-quarters, gesticulating wildly. ‘Who’s the girl? Is it Hester Needham? When did this happen?’
John gave him a short explanation as he packed his clothes and other belongings into a valise. ‘You’d better get back to your bench,’ he advised, ‘or else you’ll be in trouble. I can’t take my books with me now. There are too many. I’d appreciate it if you would bring them to me as soon as I have an address.’
‘Willingly, my friend.’ Robin shook hands with him solemnly. ‘I know I speak for Tom too when I wish you luck.’
‘I thank you.’
John shouldered his tool-box and with his valise in his other hand he walked back through the workshop. Every-one watched him go. Tom, unable to leave a piece of work that was at a vital stage, gave him a comprehending nod from a distance. Somebody opened the door for him. Instead of turning for the flagged passageway that was the route out of the house used by those employed in the workshop, he went on into the main entrance hall. Since he was leaving after nearly seven years it should be with some grace. He would write to Caroline later. Her shock over this turn of events would be as great as his, for she had his well-being at heart.
It was for this reason, in spite of Hester’s decision that nobody should be told, that he had disclosed his marriage to Caroline. He had not felt able, in all honour, to let her go on believing that something might come eventually from their close relationship. She had reacted with extraordinary courage and without spite or vindictiveness of any kind, for that was not in her nature and he knew it. He had also known she would keep his secret, for she was an exceptional woman in every way. Another letter he would have to write was one that he dreaded to pen, knowing what a bitter disappointment it would be to his grandfather to learn that after all the sacrifices made on his behalf, he had thrown his whole career away.
He crossed the entrance hall and swung his tool-box down from his shoulder to open the door and lift it through on to the top step outside. He was about to close the door after him when Caroline called his name, coming at a run from the direction of the stairs. She crossed the threshold in a rush and flung herself against him, full of distress.
‘I just heard. Oh, my
dearest John! I feel I’ve failed you somehow. I should have found a home for your wife somewhere in the country and then nobody would have discovered your secret marriage until the time was safe.’
He held her by the waist, looking fondly at her. ‘It’s too late to think of that now. Most probably the result would have been the same. The truth has a way of coming out if fate has decreed it.’
‘What will you do? Where will you go?’
‘In spite of your father’s threats, I’ll find work somewhere.’
Her head sank forward on to his chest. ‘How I shall miss you!’
‘I shall miss you.’
She raised her distraught face again. ‘Let us see each other again sometimes.’
‘That will happen. I don’t intend to leave London.’
Abruptly she linked her fingers behind his neck and used her weight to jerk his lips down to hers as she propelled herself upwards, her kiss of farewell ardent and abandoned, awakening the same response in him for all that had been between them. Then, with a sob, she flung herself away from him into the house, the door swinging shut after her.
With a sigh he shouldered his tool-box again and took up his baggage to go down the steps and turn right along the pavement. A heavily pregnant young woman was leaning in exhaustion against the railings. It crossed his mind that she must have caught every word that was said even as recognition dawned. ‘Hester.’
‘Jack found out about us,’ she explained unnecessarily, struggling against the stitch in her side. It had plagued her most of the way from the tavern, slowing her progress. When she had spotted him coming out of the Harwood establishment she had found the strength to run the last few yards, the presence of his baggage showing her that she had arrived too late. Her one thought had been to comfort him. Then she had been stopped in her tracks by Caroline’s sudden appearance and all that had ensued. ‘I had hoped to get here in time to tell Jack we were married. I failed.’ Anguish twisted down the corners of her mouth. They were facing each other like strangers instead of reaching out their arms. He had not even set down his possessions. She closed her eyes and turned her face away, continuing to clutch the railings for support. ‘I’m sorry.’
The Silver Touch Page 9