House of Angels

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House of Angels Page 28

by Freda Lightfoot


  ‘Education is important, Jessie,’ he gently informed her.

  ‘Amos, please,’ Ella scolded. ‘It’s really none of your business.’

  For once he looked chastened by his wife’s words and swiftly apologised. ‘I’m sorry, that was unpardonable of me. I’ve got too much into the habit of preaching, but Ella is teaching me the error of my ways.’

  Everyone looked a little surprised by this confession, not least Ella herself.

  ‘I’ll take them tomorrow,’ Jessie promised, giving a cheeky grin. ‘Though they’d much rather stop at home and help with the knitting, till the work gets too hard, then they want to play. That’s children for you.’

  Amos actually smiled. ‘My own are just as bad, and will do anything to avoid learning their letters. But they are healthy and strong, and that’s what matters most, is it not? Ella is a good mother to them, although she too has had a great deal to learn since coming to live on the farm. Now she can make butter and cheese, preserves and excellent cakes, and has recently learnt to spin, isn’t that right, Ella? She’s made great progress these last months.’

  Ella had been listening almost open-mouthed with astonishment to this string of compliments, and now found herself flushing bright pink as his gaze rested proudly upon her. Was Amos at last beginning to appreciate her efforts?

  Later, over a glass of ginger beer, Jessie, Livia and Amos began to work out the details of the operation. Ella noticed Mercy huddled on a sack in the corner all by herself, clearly feeling rather left out, and went to sit with her to ask how she was, and if she’d found employment.

  ‘Not yet,’ Mercy mumbled, her mouth falling into the familiar sulk she always adopted whenever one of the Angel sisters was near.

  ‘What would you like to do?’

  ‘Huh, folk like me don’t get to make choices in life. Only rich folk like you have that sort of power.’

  Ella laughed. ‘I’m not at all rich, but I agree that money does help you to have more opportunities in life. But I’ve also discovered that even if life doesn’t go quite as you’d planned it, things can turn out to be surprisingly good in the end.’

  She didn’t notice Mercy’s disbelieving scowl as she glanced across at her husband, still deep in conversation with Jessie and Livia. He looked really rather smart in his setting-out suit, as he called it. Farmers always dressed well when they came to town, and his hair was all slicked back and glossy instead of its usual tousled state, with very nearly a smile on his face. She again turned to smile at Mercy. ‘It might take a bit of effort, of course. Then life can surprise you.’

  ‘Or it can hammer you into the ground,’ Mercy quipped.

  At that moment Jack and George arrived home, tired after a long working day, and both damp from having stuck their heads under the pump outside, to rid themselves of the accumulated dust. George came over to Mercy and kissed her on the lips. ‘Hello, love. How are you?’

  Mercy wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him right back, then uncurled herself from the straw pallet upon which she’d been sitting, and went to find some food for the two men.

  Jessie was telling Jack about the plans they’d made for the supply of wool, and although he kept glancing across at Livia, she refused to meet his eye. George flopped down to sit cross-legged on the floor, and when Jessie asked him if he’d had a good day, he simply gave a philosophical shake of the head, as if that were a foolish question to ask.

  Ella surprised everyone, particularly herself, by suddenly walking over to her husband, putting her hand on his arm and suggesting he take on George as his hired man.

  ‘You were looking for someone anyway, and Mercy could perhaps help me in the house.’ She didn’t mention the nature of her relationship with the other girl, judging this wasn’t the right moment. But then keeping family secrets was ingrained in Ella’s nature, following years of living with a brutal father.

  There was a small, stunned silence, one that was finally filled by Amos himself, who turned to George and asked if he had much experience. The younger man was on his feet in seconds talking of the work he’d done on his father’s farm as a boy, then with Mercy on the farm out in the Langdales. ‘I’m particularly good with sheep, but I can deal with cattle too.’

  ‘Then you’ll do for me,’ Amos said, and his whole face creased into a wide grin as he stuck out a hand to shake on the deal. ‘Looks like you were right to insist we come into town today, Ella. It’s all worked out rather splendidly. I’ve a bit put by and wouldn’t mind investing in this new woollen business. I’ll let you have some wool, Jessie, to get you started, and you can pay me when the money starts coming in. If all goes well, we might try buying one or two of them new-fangled knitting machines. We must try to keep up with the times, mustn’t we, my love?’ he said, putting an arm about his wife’s waist.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Ella agreed, somewhat weakly, since he’d never used any sort of endearment with her before. ‘I suppose we must.’ Really, this husband of hers never ceased to amaze her. He was a man with hidden depths.

  They stayed at the County Hotel on Friday night (Amos for once having left his livestock in the care of a neighbour) and on Saturday, while Amos went off to deal with a matter of business, Ella took the opportunity to visit the store with her sister.

  It was so exciting to have money to spend, a rare treat. She bought some boots and a new frock for Tilda, plus a little rag doll for her to dress up and cuddle. For Emmett she bought a warm blue checked shirt and a football. She didn’t forget Amos and bought him a new cap and warm woollen scarf. She believed it was one that Jessie had knitted, so there was a double benefit in buying it. Ella took Mercy with her, and had her fitted for a dark blue day dress, although got little thanks for it.

  ‘I’m quite happy with the one I’ve got.’

  ‘But you’ll need another to wear when that one’s in the wash,’ Ella sensibly pointed out. ‘Or you can wear this one for church, if you like.’

  Mercy sulked, obviously wanting to disagree but finding the argument irrefutable. Ella was almost relieved when the girl insisted on going back to Fellside, as she needed to pack up the few things she and George would be taking with them. As she watched her flounce off, the parcel tucked carelessly under her arm, Ella recognised that she wasn’t going to be easy to live with, but prayed it would work out. She’d be glad of another woman’s company as Mrs Rackett spent most of the day nodding in the chair.

  After a few other essential purchases, Ella treated herself to a new blouse, and then the pair of them went upstairs to discuss the finer points of underwear. They giggled so much over camisoles and petticoats, it was almost like old times when they’d been girls together.

  ‘Oh, I wish Maggie were here. She was so wise, so patient, and so good with advice when I needed it.’

  ‘And what advice would you be asking her for now, were she here?’ Livia gently enquired, knowing that she too missed her loving, affectionate sister. There wasn’t a day that passed when her heart didn’t ache for her.

  ‘Oh, only for a suggestion on how to make my husband fall in love with me.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Livia, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I believe I might have an idea about that.’

  One other purchase was made that day, but that was made by Amos. When they all met up again, preparatory to leaving, Ella discovered that he’d bought a pony and trap at the auction, exactly the right size for a woman to drive two children to and from school.

  Ella could hardly speak for joy. She had never known such happiness, and, quite unable to help herself, she flung her arms about her husband’s neck and kissed him most thoroughly. And he really didn’t seem to object one bit.

  Amos allowed her to drive it back to Kentmere herself, with him sitting beside her offering advice, of course, while George and Mercy followed in the old farm cart. Ella thought that life was really looking up at last, and she felt filled with a new optimism.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Josi
ah was standing behind his desk, the light from the green-shaded lamp on his desk casting a slanting shadow over her face. Despite the poor light Livia thought he looked ill, his complexion sallow, the brow deeply furrowed as he stared at her in grim silence. He was a big man, and seemed somehow larger than ever in the gloom.

  She’d received the summons to come to his office only this morning, and had readily agreed. She felt safe enough here at the store, rather than at Angel house, and there was a great deal she needed to say to him. The last thing she wanted was to appear afraid. Livia straightened her spine and faced him.

  ‘Good afternoon, Father, you wished to speak with me.’

  ‘I wish to put an end to this stupid defiance of yours. I’ve waited long enough for you to come to your senses and do your duty, but I’ve finally reached the end of my patience.’

  ‘Is that why you ordered Henry to assault me?’ Livia had her hands clasped tightly at her waist, lest they trembled. She was determined not to allow him to see how very afraid she was.

  ‘He had to find some way to get past that obstinate pride of yours.’

  ‘By raping me?’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate! You’ve only yourself to blame. Had you done what was expected of you in the first place, it would not have been necessary for him to use such methods of persuasion.’

  ‘Persuasion! Is that what you call it? You speak as if this were still the Dark Ages and I a mere chattel to be bought and sold in your feudal empire. Well, let me tell you, Father, that the world has moved on apace since then. I am my own woman and will marry or not as I choose, not simply to suit your purposes.’

  ‘You will do as I say! How many more times must I tell you? You will marry Henry Hodson!’

  She actually laughed in his face. ‘What do you intend to do, drag me to the altar by my hair?’

  ‘If necessary.’ Josiah began to unbuckle his belt, and Livia’s knees suddenly turned to jelly. Only by summoning every atom of will power did she manage not to reveal her fear. ‘It will take more than brute force to make me do your bidding. Why are you doing this? Is it a debt? Has Henry threatened to take you over, or bankrupt you?’

  She saw by the way his face became suffused by a terrifying purple rage that she’d guessed correctly. But then it hadn’t been difficult to work out. Everything her father did always came down to money. His daughters’ happiness had never been part of the equation.

  He slapped the desk with the leather strap, scattering papers and ledgers everywhere, and making Livia jump. ‘This is a family business, and like it or not, girl, you are a part of it.’

  ‘Really?’ She took a step towards him, fists clenched, the anger inside firing up to boiling point, as she’d known that it must one day. ‘Only as a bargaining tool, a piece of merchandise to give away to your creditors in lieu of debt. But then why would I expect anything else from you? You’ve devoted your entire life to ruling our home with a rod of iron, determined to bend and subdue the women in your family to your will, no matter what the cost. You’ve beaten, bullied and abused us, your innocent daughters, for the crime of not being the son you always wanted. You betrayed my mother with God knows how many mistresses, and when the offspring of one turns up at your door asking for help, you lock her away and have her beaten too, just so that it never gets out that Councillor Angel, Mayor, and would-be Member of Parliament, has an illegitimate daughter.’

  She could see how his face was working into a fury, but she didn’t pause, not for a second.

  ‘As if all of that wasn’t enough to earn you a passport to hell, you order your own daughter to be raped in order to force her into marriage with the man who is threatening to make you bankrupt.’ Her face contorted with disgust and rage, she spat the words at him. ‘You are despicable! Depraved! Debauched! Vile! I can’t find words bad enough to describe you. Just being in the same room with you makes me want to vomit.’

  She half turned away, as if about to leave, but filled with a demonic fury he lashed out at her with the strap. By some instinct, some inner resolve never to submit to his bullying again, Livia lifted her arm at just the right moment, and with one vicious tug caught the strap, dragging it from his hand and into hers.

  Josiah roared his fury like a lion deprived of its kill.

  Livia thought of Maggie hanging from that banister, of her mother choosing to end her days in a drugged haze rather than face the day-to-day reality of a blighted marriage. She thought of Henry’s fat questing fingers, and the urge to strike out and put an end to that agony, to have her revenge at last, was overpowering.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  Not because she was afraid; she wasn’t, not any more. She saw her father for what he was: a miserable, pitiful creature, quite incapable of loving anyone but himself. Revenge would solve nothing and only make her as bad as him. She tossed the strap away with a contemptuous curl to her lip.

  ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll sink to your level. I’m worth more than that. But don’t you dare come near me ever again, and keep Henry away too, or I’ll shout all your dirty little secrets from the rooftops.’

  Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

  There was nothing strange or new about the work expected of Mercy on Todd’s Farm. The cows needed milking in exactly the same way as those on the farm in the Langdales, the dairy operated a similar routine, and the ground needed tilling for vegetables with exactly the same kind of hoe, the weeds growing just as fast. And when she wasn’t found work to do on the land or in the dairy, there was always the house to sweep, the pans to scrub, although what that lazy old woman, Mrs Rackett, did all day was quite beyond her.

  As Mercy settled into the loft over the barn, hanging their few clothes on hooks in the wall, setting out the hairbrush she’d bought for herself, she embarked upon these daily duties with grudging resignation. This was not where she wished to be, although if it made George happy then she would tolerate it, at least for now.

  George was still a flirt and a practical joker. He was good looking and likeable, and couldn’t resist putting on an act, particularly to a new and grateful audience. Whether it was wearing a dress and pretending to be stupid, or chatting up Nurse Bathurst so that she would allow him some treat or other, it was like a performance.

  Now he made a bee-line for Ella’s vulnerability. Perhaps he recognised her innate loneliness, her desperate need for company and attention, and took advantage of it.

  He would always be there for her if she needed water carrying, or logs stacking. He’d tell her how beautiful she looked of a morning, even when she was pale and tired with anxious bruises beneath her eyes. He’d flatter her about her cooking, no matter if there was gristle in the stew or her cakes had gone flat. And he’d stop whatever job he was doing in an instant, simply to take the time to talk to her, which her husband rarely seemed to find time to do.

  Mercy had been paying careful attention and without doubt Amos neglected his wife. He never praised a meal she cooked for him, or told her she looked nice even when she’d clearly gone to a great deal of effort to please him. He took her entirely for granted, as if she were a paid servant and not his wife at all. Yet he watched her with a smouldering look in his eyes whenever she wasn’t looking his way. She couldn’t quite work out what was wrong between the pair of them, but something most certainly was. No wonder she lapped up the extra attention George gave her.

  But if that madam thought she could steal her man, she was very much mistaken. Just let her try and she’d rue the day, half-sister or no.

  It was also infuriating that Ella had made a point of explaining that she must not mention the fact she was illegitimate. Mercy had instantly taken offence, and told this so-called sister of hers, quite bluntly, that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Ella had looked quite distressed. ‘I wasn’t implying that you had, only Amos is so – so very condemning over any issue concerning morals. I will tell him, as soon as I find the right moment, I swear. Until then, I’d be grateful
for your discretion.’

  Mercy took her revenge by being deliberately uncooperative. If Ella asked her to feed the calves, she would linger over her breakfast, coming to the task in her own good time. She would pretend not to understand and pour the milk into the wrong dishes, taking great pleasure in seeing Ella fall into a panic because her system had gone all wrong. Serve the silly woman right for having had things easy up until now. Mercy didn’t believe half those tales Livia had told her about beatings, or locking her in a cage. More likely the result of a fanciful imagination than plain fact. No father would treat his daughters thus.

  What reason did Ella have to complain? She’d lived in a fine house with servants to do her every bidding, her every whim indulged, provided with beautiful clothes to wear, money to spend and delicious food to eat. Meanwhile, Mercy’s own mother, and herself too, had nought but rags on their backs and been near starvation more times than she cared to recall. She saw it as only justice if now this pampered girl was obliged to toil long and hard on the farm. Do her good to suffer for a change.

  If Mercy could find any way of making things more difficult for this half-sister of hers, then she would do so.

  Just a week or two after starting work on the farm Mercy spotted her best opportunity yet for revenge. Naughty George was lingering in the barn chatting to Ella when really he should have been taking the cows back to the pasture and checking on the sheep and cattle. So when she saw Amos approaching, Mercy made a great show of quickly shutting the door, as if she didn’t want him to see inside.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ she asked in all innocence, bobbing a curtsey and appearing flustered.

  Amos frowned. ‘I don’t believe so, Mercy. Is there some problem?’

  ‘No sir, not that I know of.’ It was demeaning having to do all this ‘yes sir, no sir,’ nonsense, bobbing and curtseying when really the man was no better than she was, and her brother-in-law to boot. Mercy stubbornly blocked his way. ‘Begging yer pardon, sir, only I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.’

 

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