Candles in the Storm

by Rita Bradshaw

‘There’s no need for that,’ said Daisy quickly. ‘It doesn’t take long and I’d know my way blindfold now. There’s more than enough light to see the path, it being such a clear night.’

  ‘Stubborn to the last.’ As he opened the door and a surge of voices and warmth spilled out, Alf grinned at her. ‘But humour me the night, lass, eh? It’s been a right grand day an’ I don’t want nowt to spoil it, like you turnin’ your ankle in one of them potholes an’ lyin’ out all night without anyone knowin’. You won’t have Kitty with you from now on, don’t forget.’

  No, she wouldn’t. As Alf continued into the cottage, Daisy paused on the threshold. This was going to be yet another new chapter in her life and one she wasn’t particularly looking forward to. Wilhelmina had decided that rather than replace Kitty with another live-in servant she would make do with a daily from the village, who would arrive at six every morning and leave at six in the evening. Daisy had met the young girl concerned who had seemed nice enough but who was not particularly bright, and Maud Longhurst had certainly none of bubbly Kitty’s sense of fun. Maud was due to commence her new position in two days’ time, and Gladys was already spitting bricks after being informed by Wilhelmina that the cook would be expected to serve and clear dinner unaided in the new way of things. Not that Gladys was talking to her, Daisy reminded herself ruefully. From the morning of Kitty’s departure from Evenley House, Gladys and Harold had maintained an attitude of stony silence that was broken only when absolutely necessary.

  But that didn’t matter. Daisy’s gaze travelled to where Kitty, bright-eyed and flushed with happiness, was laughing with some of the other fisherwomen, her brown curls bobbing and the lace stole draped about her shoulders in a cascade of white. Kitty was free of her mother now, Gladys’s hold over her daughter broken, and Daisy would have endured much more than the woman’s seething hostility and working with stolid Maud for that to come about.

  As though her thoughts had drawn the other girl, Kitty now left the group of women and made her way over to Daisy, saying, ‘Come right in then, lass, you’re allowed. Most honoured guest, you are,’ and she wasn’t altogether joking.

  ‘I’ve got to get back, Kitty. Alf’s just going to bring Gran and round up Tilly and the bairns, and once they’re home I’m off to Fulwell.’

  ‘Aw, lass.’ The smile sliding from her face, Kitty said softly, ‘I hate to think of you there with me mam, I do straight.’

  For answer, Daisy put her arms round Kitty and hugged her, whispering, ‘She doesn’t bother me, she never has, and that’s what gets to her. You just be happy, there’s no one deserves to be more than you.’

  Kitty now disengaged herself enough to pull back and look into Daisy’s face, and there were tears in her eyes when she said, ‘There aren’t words to thank you.’

  ‘Thank me? I haven’t done anything.’

  Kitty shook her head, sending the high bun of curls wobbling again. ‘Lass, you’ll never know. You’ll never know. You turned my life round when you came to Evenley House, that’s the way I feel about it, and all the good things in my life now have come through you.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, lass.’

  ‘And me you, Kitty. And me you.’

  They were brought apart by Alf’s voice behind Kitty saying, ‘Out of me way, wife, there’s folks comin’ through,’ and then he was stepping out of the cottage, Nellie held in his burly arms, and Tilly, Cuthbert and their menagerie of bairns behind him.

  After one last quick squeeze of Kitty’s hand, Daisy made her goodbyes to Alf’s mother and the others and then followed the procession. She had always been aware that most of the fisherfolk had expected her to return to the cottages one day and marry Alf, but even if she hadn’t been the attitude of some of them today would have told her this. Not that anyone had spoken a word out of place, it wasn’t that, nor had anyone been unkind, but they had been cautious. It was as though Alf’s wedding had emphasised she was now different from them, lived in a different world; by refusing him she had indicated that the old Daisy was finally gone. It made her feel sad and almost cast adrift but she couldn’t do anything about it, and for the moment didn’t feel up to examining herself and the whole situation any further, so she resolved to put it all on the back burner and just get on with what needed to be done.

  She straightened her shoulders, set her fancy new bonnet with blue silk flowers on the brim that she’d bought specially for Kitty’s wedding more firmly on her head, and went to meet the waiting George.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Wilhelmina was resting on a couch pulled close to the roaring fire in her private sitting room, a thick travelling rug covering her lower torso and legs, but still she felt cold.

  She glanced across to the windows beyond which more snow was swirling in a world already transformed to brilliant white. It had been snowing for the last three days. Every morning Harold cleared the path leading from the front door to the garden gate but he reported that the road beyond Evenley House was still in use so they were not cut off yet.

  Would Augustus visit today, and would he bring Francis with him again? Wilhelmina frowned to herself. Why on earth Augustus had allowed their younger brother to return home with him and the girls she really didn’t understand. Of course she realised Augustus was upset by Gwendoline’s assertion that their marriage was over, and that she intended to stay in France indefinitely with Lydia and Claude; perhaps he found Francis’s presence a comfort? For herself, she would as soon harbour an asp in her bosom than trust Francis.

  Wilhelmina looked towards the door as quick light footsteps sounded in the hall outside, obviously Daisy’s rather than the solid plodding of Maud.

  ‘I’ve brought your luncheon tray, ma’am.’ Daisy knew her mistress was finding Maud something of a trial; the girl was willing enough but painfully slow. She had to be told something at least three or four times before it penetrated her brain, and even then the pace at which she carried out the allotted task was snail-like.

  ‘Thank you, child.’ Wilhelmina glanced at the contents of the silver tray - a light meal consisting of beef consommé with a soft white roll - aware she wouldn’t be able to manage more than a bite or two.

  Later that afternoon Daisy had just finished massaging her mistress’s feet when Maud ponderously announced that Sir Augustus and Mr Francis Fraser had called to see their sister. With Josiah Kirby ensconced in the kitchen with a venomous Gladys, and Francis Fraser staring at her in the sitting room, the afternoon proved to be a long and trying one for Daisy.

  The moon was casting its cold white brilliance over the frozen vista outside the warmth of Wilhelmina’s private sitting room by the time the two brothers and Josiah left. Wilhelmina had asked Daisy to see her brothers out - it being twenty-past six and Maud having left promptly at her allotted time - and out of the corner of her eye Daisy saw Francis glance meaningfully at the valet as Josiah joined him on the drive, Augustus already having seated himself in the carriage which had arrived a minute or two earlier. Josiah nodded at the unspoken prompting, at which point both men turned as one and looked at her.

  Daisy bit down hard on her lip in an effort to keep her face blank and then she shut the door in their faces, her heart racing. What had all that been about? Something was afoot. As her granny would have said, you didn’t need to be fiddling the same tune to know when the devil was playing.

  A deep feeling of unease plagued her for the rest of the evening and by the time she left Miss Wilhelmina tucked up in bed and walked along to the kitchen - having missed dinner due to her mistress’s being fretful and uncomfortable - Daisy was tired. She pushed open the kitchen door, mentally steeling herself to meet Gladys and Harold’s sour faces, but it was not the cook or her husband who met Daisy’s startled gaze.

  Francis Fraser rose slowly from one of the wicker armchairs in front of the range, his eyes on the young woman who had paused just inside the kitchen door. He watched Daisy glance round, her face expressing
her bewilderment, and then he said, ‘They’ve gone to bed. You were wondering where the other servants were, weren’t you?’

  She looked him full in the face now as she said, ‘It’s only just ten o’clock. Harold does not bolt the doors until half-past.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He smiled, his gaze slithering over her. ‘Well, look for them, m’dear, but it will be to no avail. But please, do not let me stop you if you feel so inclined.’

  Daisy said nothing to this, neither did she move, and a few moments ticked by before Francis gave a chuckle low in his throat. ‘You’re a cool customer, girl, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘No?’

  Daisy raised her head a little, looking at the bloated individual in front of her steadily as she said, ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t come your airs and graces with me, m’dear, because I am nobody’s fool.’ He was still speaking in the pleasant, almost jolly tone he had used since she had come into the kitchen, which made the sense of his words all the more chilling. ‘You’re a whore, everyone knows it, and but for the generosity of my sister in having you under her roof you would be working the Sunderland waterfront like the rest of your kind. But, don’t mistake me, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, merely to let you know I am under no illusions as to the true circumstances. And that being the case’ - he reached into the pocket of his trousers and brought out a small cloth bag, throwing it on to the table where it jingled for a moment - ‘I can be as generous as anyone else.’

  Daisy couldn’t believe her ears. For a moment she was too amazed to react and then she drew in a deep breath, forcing the tremor which had started in the pit of her stomach from sounding in her voice as she said, ‘You are quite mistaken, Mr Fraser, and I think you should leave now before I raise the household.’

  ‘What? And disturb that dimwit of a sister of mine? I doubt you’d do that, m’dear. You don’t want to upset the old lady, not with her heart so dicky.’ He reached out for a small glass at the side of him and swilled the contents down in one gulp, smacking his lips as he added, ‘I don’t know how many strings to your bow you have at the moment, but let me assure you, William Fraser has no intention of ever returning to England once he’s well if that’s what you’re hoping. And a little bird told me the parson took fright years ago. Married to his verger’s daughter now, isn’t he? Even the fisherman you’ve tickled for years has tired of the goods, I hear? Of course I don’t suppose for a minute they were the only men you’ve had, but I’m not one to insist on exclusive rights, never have been. No, it doesn’t worry me if--’

  ‘Get out.’ Her voice was loud and her manner such that even Francis, befuddled with whisky as he was, couldn’t doubt she meant business.

  ‘Not till I get what I came for. Y’know, I was thinking the other day, nothing has gone right for me since you appeared. You owe me something for that, girl, and by George I intend to collect. And don’t be concerned I’ll let on to your mistress, I can hold my tongue when it pleases me. Got your eye on the main chance here, haven’t you? Oh, yes, I know, I know.’ He winked at her, moving closer. ‘Think you can talk the daft old bat into leaving you a nice little nest egg as security when other . . . pastimes fail, eh? Well, nothing wrong in that. Nothing at all.’

  He was mad, he had to be. It was only when he was so close Daisy could smell the whisky fumes on him that her frozen limbs sprang into action. Then she moved with a swiftness that took the drunken Francis completely by surprise. One moment the large kitchen knife was with the others, all neatly laid out for morning on their marble block, and the next it was waving in front of Francis’s nose. ‘You come one step nearer, just one, and I’ll show you how we gut fish firsthand,’ Daisy hissed through her clenched teeth.

  ‘Wha-What?’ Francis jerked back so violently from the keenly honed and razor-sharp blade that was Gladys’s pride and joy he lost his balance and went sprawling on the floor, the breath leaving his body in a great gasp as he thudded against the flagstones.

  ‘I can use this and don’t think I won’t.’ Daisy swallowed deeply as she stared down at the grotesque figure on the floor squirming like a beached whale. ‘You lay one finger on me and I’ll split you in two.’

  She could hear herself speaking and see the knife in her hand but still there was a sense of amazement that this was actually happening. The ladylike behaviour of the last few years had melted away like sea mist before a hot noonday sun.

  ‘You . . . you little . . .’ He began cursing, the profanities so vile that Daisy wrinkled her face against them.

  ‘Get out.’ At the back of her mind she was conscious of thinking, Gladys and Harold know. They must do. They had conspired with Josiah Kirby to bring this about, to have William’s uncle waiting for her when she was all alone. It was almost unbelievable they could be so vicious, that they could set out to hurt her like this. She knew they had always disliked her, hated her even, but this. This was something apart.

  ‘You think you can treat me like this? Me?’ His flabby face was livid with anger. ‘You run a brothel back where you come from, a house where no doubt the cook’s brat will soon be opening her legs once your fisherman friend is done with her, and you think you can refuse me? I know all about you, including the flyblow you’ve tried to keep quiet about.’

  Flyblow? What on earth was he talking about? For a second or two Daisy had no idea Augustus’s brother was referring to little Tommy, not until he added, ‘Oh, you’ve paid a few to fall in with the tale of your being its aunt, I don’t doubt, but there’s others who are on to your little game. Scum! You were born scum and scum you’ll remain.’

  He had staggered to his feet as he had been talking, holding on to the kitchen table for support, and when he said, ‘Kirby’s been on to you for years,’ Daisy knew who she had to blame for all of this and found it was no great surprise.

  ‘Josiah Kirby has a filthy mind. There is not a grain of truth in what he’s said.’

  ‘And I’m King Edward.’ He stood looking at her for a moment more and it came to Daisy then that Francis Fraser was weighing up whether she really would use the weapon in her hand should he come for her again. Her body was like a ramrod now, and there was no tremor in her voice when she said, ‘One step towards me and I swear I’ll use this and take the consequences. I am going to tell you one last time to leave and after that I will walk into the hall and begin shouting for assistance, and then we shall see what Miss Wilhelmina makes of it all.’

  Daisy couldn’t find words in her mind which would describe the look on his face, she only knew it was the nearest she ever wanted to come to such depravity.

  It was a few more moments before his hand snatched up the cloth bag of money, stuffing it into his pocket. He straightened his back, breathing hard as he glared at her, and then turned and wrenched open the kitchen door. A layer of snow fell on to the cork mat.

  Francis did not close the door behind him, and Daisy hesitated for a few seconds before walking across the kitchen, uncertain as to whether this was some kind of trick. But she had seen defeat in his eyes the moment before he had left. And then she heard a voice say, ‘Mr Francis? Are you all right, sir?’ and she realised Josiah Kirby must have accompanied his master’s brother, the two of them concocting some tale to explain their whereabouts to Sir Augustus, no doubt.

  Daisy shot the bolt on the door with trembling hands, leaning back against the cold wood as she stared down at the kitchen knife in her hand now hanging limply against her skirt. Would she have used this on him if he’d attempted to rape her? She didn’t have to think about the answer. She could not have continued living if he had touched her. But he hadn’t touched her and nor would he, he’d gone.

  Daisy walked to the marble block and put the knife in its place with the others, telling herself to breathe slowly and deeply as a sensation of faintness made itself known. She had to eat something, she’d had nothing since lunch and then only a quick bite with Miss Wilhelmina be
ing fractious.

  Once in the pantry she realised her teeth were chattering with the reaction that had overtaken her now the danger was past, but she helped herself to several slices of boiled ham and put them on a plate. She placed this on a tray, along with a crusty loaf and a platter of fresh butter.

  Once at the table a thought which occurred to her enabled her to eat the food with some measure of enjoyment.

  Josiah Kirby would have been frozen half to death waiting outside on a raw winter’s night like this.

  Daisy lay awake for a long time deliberating on whether to inform her mistress of Francis’s presence in the house, but she decided the man wasn’t worth distressing Miss Wilhelmina for. The old lady was too ill to be upset over something that was done and finished with, little would be accomplished by telling her now. She had dealt with him, Daisy thought, and from that last expression on his face he would think twice about trying anything similar in the future.

  As it happened, come morning Francis Fraser was the last person on Daisy’s mind. A grim-faced Alf was on the doorstep of Evenley House just after dawn had broken. Nellie had had a bad turn and Tilly had sent him for the doctor in the middle of the night. Doctor Hogarth thought Daisy should come as soon as possible. ‘Apoplexy’ the doctor called it, Alf said. All he knew was that the night before Nellie had been the same as ever, and then Tilly had heard a crash and a bang at three in the morning and had come downstairs to find Nellie’s little table with its pills and potions upturned, and Nellie herself unable to speak or move.