‘I came to see Father on a particular matter.’
‘Of course, and, I hope, to inform me that you’re willing to reconsider my offer for you and I to…’ He left the sentence unfinished with a slight upward curl to those full moist lips, in the hope she might pick up the thread without his actually needing to.
This was the last thing Livia needed, and she instantly set about quashing any dreams Henry might nurture on a possible union between them. ‘I don’t want you to be under any misconceptions. I’m afraid I haven’t changed my mind. I simply don’t see you as a potential husband, Henry dear.’
His mouth visibly tightened and Henry thrust his hands behind his back, clasping them in a tight fury of disappointment. ‘I see, well, I appreciate your frankness.’
Livia detected an icy coolness creeping into his tone but decided not to trouble herself over it. She had other, rather more important issues on her mind. She was determined there must be some way she could help her friends to earn an honest living, and if that meant she must beg favours of Henry, as well as her father, then it was a price she was prepared to pay.
Oh, but it was really quite preposterous, considering how wealthy the Angel family was supposed to be, the size of this house for a start, not to mention the land and property her father owned, that she had no money of her own. Not a penny. If she had, then she would use it to set the Flint family up in business on their own account. But she had nothing and was obliged to swallow her pride and make the best of it; otherwise she, together with the entire Flint family, would be the ones in the workhouse, not just Mercy.
She settled herself in her favourite chair, striving to be calm, and began by describing her concern for the residents of Fellside, explaining that many of them had no other employment but the knitting and weaving, and were in dire straits.
Henry looked unmoved. ‘I fear the world is changing, Lavinia. We cannot halt progress.’
‘I do realise that,’ Livia agreed, quite sharply. ‘Nevertheless, it seems to me that since there must still be a market for knitted goods, albeit a changing one, a fair price should at least be paid for their labours. They’ve done so much for me, nursing me when I was out of my head… I don’t wish to go into all of that, but I want to help them. They deserve better.’
Henry’s smile had become stiff and forced. He strolled over to take up his usual stand on the hearthrug before the blazing fire, almost as if he owned the place. ‘I can see that you have become rather tied up with the petty concerns of these people. Of course, we both know that there really is no need for you to be living on Fellside at all.’ He looked at her as if she lived in a whorehouse. ‘If there is some reason you don’t yet wish to return here to Angel House, you could come and stay at my house. It would be perfectly proper since Mother could act as chaperone.’
‘Henry, I thought we’d just agreed—’
‘I don’t mean as my fiancée, although I would still welcome you in that capacity, were you to experience a change of heart. I meant as a friend. You would be much more comfortable there than living in such grim conditions, at least until you felt able to return home.’
‘I have no intention of ever returning home, so you can put that idea right out of your head.’ Livia clasped and unclasped her hands with growing impatience. ‘Henry, I really have no wish to engage in an argument with you. The point is, you pay only sixpence for an item that might take all day to knit. I’d like to ask you, to beg you, to increase your payments. A shilling, at least, would be a much more appropriate price.’
He raised his eyebrows in alarm. ‘A shilling! I think not. My own costs have risen exponentially. Do you appreciate the time and trouble involved in delivering and collecting the wool, and selling those hand-knitted stockings? My factory can knit thousands in a week, instead of the pitiful quantity a hand-knitter can supply. It’s a specialised market now.’
‘Is it indeed? And to hell with the needs of the people, is that it? Let them starve, eh?’
His expression turned sour as he dropped all show of politeness. ‘They can always seek employment in one of the woollen factories in town, although I confess I have no openings at present in my own.’
Livia took a breath. ‘I did think of encouraging my friends to start their own business, knitting sweaters and scarves and so on. I don’t suppose you would consider making me a loan to set that in motion, would you?’
‘No, I don’t suppose I would.’
There was a frigid silence for the length of one heartbeat. ‘Well then, now I must thank you for being so frank. I’m sorry to have troubled you.’ Livia rose from her chair and walked to the door. Henry made as if to follow her, but she put up a hand to stop him. ‘Please don’t disturb yourself. I believe I know the way out of my own home. Stay and finish your whisky.’
‘Livia, for goodness sake, don’t dash off in a huff just because I refuse to help with your cock-eyed scheme.’
‘Cock-eyed?’ She whirled around to face him, all social niceties gone, temper bright in her eyes. ‘That’s not how I see it.’ Then turning on her heel she marched out into the hall.
‘Wait, I need to talk to you. I miss you. You’re still the only girl for me. I still want to marry you, Livvy. And I may yet agree to assist with this foolish…this new enterprise of yours.’
She paused. ‘On what terms?’
‘Obviously I’d see the matter in an entirely different light if you were to accept my offer of marriage. A wife is generally permitted one or two pet charities to occupy her.’
Livia looked at him with open contempt. ‘Blackmail, is it now, Henry? Please explain to my father that I had to leave. Good day to you both.’
She snatched up her cape and hat, so anxious to put these two painful interviews behind her that she didn’t even trouble to pin the latter in place. Livia had almost reached the porch when she was halted by a familiar booming voice from behind.
‘Are you going to just let her walk away, or behave like a man for once?’
‘Father, please, don’t stir up any more trouble. I came to ask you – to beg you – for help. Both of you. I should have known better. Good day to you.’
But Henry was beside her in a second. He caught her wrist as she reached for the big brass door knob and twisted her round to face him.
‘I mean to marry you, Livvy. Stop being so damned obstinate and admit you’ve made a mistake in refusing me.’
‘Let go, Henry, you’re hurting me.’ Livia strove to pull herself from his grasp, very nearly succeeded, but he was so much stronger than her, and filled with a rage born of rejection. ‘I will have you, woman. Damn it, I’ll show you whether or not I have passion.’
The image she would remember in the moment of realisation that he had no intention of allowing her to leave was of her father standing in the hall laughing his head off.
Chapter Thirty
It was a Thursday and Jack was concerned that Livia wasn’t at home, wondering where she might be.
‘She went out hours ago.’ Jessie was equally concerned, and about to serve the evening meal, the usual broth with herb dumplings, this time with a few tasty bits of bacon in it which she’d got cheap on the market.
‘Yes, but where to? Where did she go?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Jessie placed a brimming dish of broth before her son, and his nose twitched with appreciation as he savoured the delicious aroma.
‘Has she gone to her father to ask for a stay of execution on the eviction notice? She hasn’t gone to beg him for money?’ Jack slammed down the spoon he’d only just picked up. ‘I hope she hasn’t been so stupid as to risk seeing him alone? Is she mad?’
Jessie shook her head and shrugged, looking more and more troubled as her son continued to fire questions at her. ‘Don’t ask me; I know nowt. She just wanted to know if I’d found us anywhere else to live yet, and when I said no, I hadn’t, she became very distressed and—’
Jack was on his feet in a second, his hunger forgotten. ‘Dear G
od, that confirms it, she has gone to see him.’
‘Calm yerself, lad, I’m not so sure about that. We went on to talk about Hodson, and his penny-pinching ways of doing business. I mentioned that Hodson had dropped his payment by another threepence for that last batch of stockings I made. She was livid, seemed to believe it was because of her that he’s turned nasty, that Hodson is trying to punish her through us. Isn’t he an old flame of Livia’s?’
Jack frowned. ‘Hodson is her father’s choice of husband for her, yes. But she refused, or so she told me. I doubt she’s suffered a change of heart.’
Jessie chuckled at the very idea. ‘Not with the pair of you unable to keep your hands off each other, not unless I’m a pig’s uncle. Nay, it’s this business of the knitting and the weaving that’s got to her. She’s that determined to help it’s more likely she’s gone to give him a piece of her mind. You know how she is, always says what she thinks right up front. She were annoyed he was squeezing yet another few pennies out of us and promised to sort it out, once and for all.’
Jack ran for the door, shouting to his mother to keep his supper warm till he returned. ‘See you save enough for two. I shall bring Livia back with me.’
How she came to be in the conservatory Livia had no idea. Following those last bitter words between them there’d been an undignified tussle in which she’d desperately attempted to effect an escape. And utterly failed to do so. Had Henry, with her father’s help, really propelled her to the conservatory, her arms pinioned to her sides? Yet here she undoubtedly was, among the potted palms and ornamental ferns, the door locked, her father gone off still laughing, and the pair of them alone once more.
Henry was now in his shirtsleeves, having thrown off his fine frock coat, and had her backed up against a wall. Amazingly, he was attempting to tug her skirt up above her knees.
‘What are you doing?’ Livia tried to grab his hand, to stop him, but he was so much stronger than she remembered. She’d never had any trouble controlling him when he was a boy and they were squabbling over who was to ride her bicycle. ‘Stop this nonsense, Henry. At once, do you hear?’
His laughter chilled her. ‘You think I’m such a fool, don’t you? Good old Henry, lead him on, tease him, what does it matter? He’s quite harmless, and so useful to have around to fetch and carry.’
Livia cringed at the way he so effectively emulated their tone when she and Ella had been silly young girls. ‘It’s not like that, not any more at any rate. I’m sorry if we were cruel to you when we were young, but we were only children.’
‘You promised me,’ he hissed in her ear, and his warm breath, smelling strongly of whisky, made her almost retch. ‘You promised you’d wed me, and you will, damn it! If you won’t keep your promise voluntarily, I’ll make
you. You’ll be glad enough of my offer when you find yourself carrying my child.’
Livia gasped. ‘You’re mad!’
His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘You’re right, I am. Mad with love for you.’
Before Livia had the chance to frame any sort of reply to this outrageous remark, his mouth crashed down on hers, cutting off her protests, stifling the start of a scream somewhere deep in her throat. His fat fingers were feverishly ripping apart the pearl buttons on her blouse, pawing at her breasts, again searching beneath her skirts, seeking that private, secret part of her, oblivious to her efforts to break free, her squeals and cries begging him to stop.
Dear Lord, she couldn’t believe this was happening to her. This was Henry after all, her oldest friend. She’d thought of him as a brother. What on earth did he mean to do to her? Had he quite lost his reason?
Henry’s next words explained all, the icy tone of his voice sending a chill down her spine. ‘This was your father’s idea. “You can have her,” he told me. “Take her any way you choose, willing or not, by force if necessary. You have my permission.”’
And she’d fondly imagined she could make her father feel guilty for what he’d done to Maggie?
Gathering every vestige of her strength, Livia shoved him hard, slapping at him frantically with the flat of both hands. But it was like a fly trying to bat away an elephant. Henry was a big man, growing bigger every day by the look of him. All she succeeded in doing was dislodging a plant pot that had been balanced precariously on a marble pillar close by. It went crashing to the ground.
‘Don’t think to alert anyone by knocking stuff over, and no point in screaming either.’ He clapped a hand across her mouth, just in case she should try. ‘Most of your father’s servants have either been given their marching orders or left of their own accord. There’s only a daily, and Peggy, who you saw just now, and she’s already left. As for the neighbours, they know better than to interfere with whatever goes on in the house of their new mayor.’
Livia felt sick at the thought, all too aware that he spoke the truth. The house was too big and solid, and the grounds too large for neighbours to hear anything going on, even in the conservatory. There was no one around, save for her father, and he would do nothing to save her. She couldn’t get the sound of his laughter out of her head, or the way he’d helped Henry to drag her away from the door, for all he must have been fully aware of what was about to happen. Yet why should she be surprised by his malice, wasn’t he completely amoral?
Henry seemed to echo that laugh now, and the sound chilled her. ‘Didn’t you once ask if I was capable of passion? Well, I’ll damn well prove to you that I am.’
Pulling her roughly to him, he devoured her mouth in a punishing kiss, raking it with his tongue, nipping at her lips with his sharp teeth as he sucked at her. ‘Is that passionate enough for you?’
If he saw how her eyes begged him to release her, he gave no indication. He was far too absorbed in dealing with the intricacies of her undergarments. When she fought him, he shoved her back hard against the house wall among the grapevine, which had never yet produced any fruit, only clinging tendrils that clawed at her hair. His breathing grew ragged, grunting alarmingly like a rutting stag in autumn. He ripped her petticoat apart with both hands, then set about her French silk knickers, which Ella had once assured her were very much the coming thing.
Oh, Maggie, how on earth did you cope with a similar violation, from your own father?
Livia screamed.
Sadly, he’d been right about the neighbours. No one came running in answer to her cries. Nor did anyone appear when other plant pots went flying as he tumbled her to the ground to finish the job properly. Livia’s fingers scrabbled frantically in the rubble, seeking something substantial to hit him with, anything, a desperation now in her efforts to free herself. But the world might as well have been deaf, blind and dumb for all the good her cries made.
The butler who answered the door at Henry’s house on Serpentine Road was not, at first, particularly helpful. He looked down his nose at Jack and informed him that he had no right to even set foot on their front doorstep, that he should use the servant’s entrance at the back or better still remove himself from the premises altogether. He soon changed his tune, however, once Jack had slammed him up against the door-frame and threatened him with a clenched fist, and had finally admitted that the master was in fact visiting Mr Josiah at Angel House.
‘You could have saved us both a great deal of time and trouble had you told me that in the first place.’
Jack heard Livia’s cries long before he reached the house. All the lights were blazing in the front drawing room, although one glance through the window as he charged past revealed that it was empty. He couldn’t see Livia anywhere, but he headed for the side of the house, in the direction of those desperate cries, instinct driving him on.
The glass door to the conservatory was locked so he smashed it with his fist to reach for the lock inside and open it. Jack swept aside palms and ferns, trampled a particularly rare orchid, which Livia’s mother had once nurtured, and she had cherished because of that. He broke through the jungle of Edwardian horticulture only to b
e presented with the sight of Henry’s bare backside mooning before him. And beneath the mound of his gross body, amidst the soil and broken shards of pottery, lay Livia.
Jack didn’t stop to think. He didn’t pause to consider that this was his employer he’d caught in the act of rape. He grabbed hold of his shirt collar and dragged Hodson off. When his fist connected with the flabby jaw there was a crack which resounded satisfyingly loud in the confined space. He followed it with a second, and then a third, and kept on punching and thumping, a red mist forming before his eyes as his temper got the better of him.
Hodson sank to his knees. Caught off guard by the sudden unexpectedness of the attack, and failing to return a single punch, he begged for mercy. But then a man was hardly in a position to throw decent punches with his trousers around his ankles.
The final blow landed squarely, breaking Hodson’s nose and sending blood spurting everywhere. Henry went down like a felled tree, legs sprawling in a most undignified fashion. Jack wasted no time over him, one glance at Livia cowering among the shards of broken pottery and shredded plants making his heart plummet. She was weeping uncontrollably, desperate little gasps and sobs as he gathered her into his arms, his worst fears confirmed. Had he arrived too late? Hodson must surely have done the deed, slaking his lust on her, as he’d always intended.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ella had made many changes at Todd Farm. With water now piped to the dairy and the outhouse next door, she designated the latter as the washhouse. Amos, with the help of Tom Mounsey, installed the boiler Ella had also bought at the farm sale, which provided masses of hot water for the washing. It was still rather primitive, a fire needing to be lit beneath it well in advance and kept well stoked with wood, but far better than boiling up shirts and sheets in the old tin pan on the rattencrook hanging over the fire. Ella now insisted that Amos change his shirt every Wednesday, as well as Mondays, and keep a special one for Sundays.
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