by Shirley Roe
“A few! This is dozens, not a few. Never mind, just give them to me and let's get on with this farce.” Jenny was upset. Had she just made a deal with the devil himself? She needed to think. “Don't you have somewhere to go?” She wanted to be alone.
Ian laughed as he bowed graciously, “Thank you, Miss Barstow. I knew we would be able to come to an amiable agreement.” With that, he left her alone.
Jenny took the envelopes to her desk and buried her head in her hands. What else could I do? Mr. Murphy was right; no one would believe me. If I want this job, I will have to go along with his plan. Rotten Scoundrel that he is! Mr. Murphy, I hate you!
Harry Mitchell surprised Jenny Sunday morning when he appeared at the door in time to go to St. Giles with her, Abigail and Zachariah. The old man winked at him when he arrived.
Why you old scoundrel, you planned this. Jenny looked from one to the other, but neither was giving anything away. They walked the short distance to church; the air was crisp and cool.
When they arrived, a lovely young woman approached Harry. “Harry, there you are. I wondered why you were not in the carriage this morning.” She had flaming red hair and wore a lacy and feminine dress. Jenny felt the jealousy growing. She looked away from Harry, but he quickly caught her by the hand.
“Jenny, I would like you to meet my cousin, Amelia. Amelia, this is the wonderful Jenny.” With that, Jenny turned crimson pink with embarrassment.
“Jenny, how lovely to make your acquaintance. Harry has not stopped talking about you in weeks. But please call me, Amy.” Amy was very friendly. Jenny could not help, but like her immediately and by the time the service had ended, the two were becoming friends.
Several nights later, Harry came to take Jenny to the theater. She was dressed in her new crimson gown with matching cape. Mr. Murphy had surprised her with a small pay increase. It was not much, but now she could splurge a little on some new clothes. Abigail took care of her hair, and Jenny added a gold necklace that her mother had given her. Harry was very impressed. “Jenny, you look wonderful. I shall be the envy of all the gentlemen at the theater this evening. Amy and her beau, Gordon McDonald, are waiting for us at the theater.”
They climbed into the carriage that Harry had hired, and once again Jenny felt like a storybook princess.
Abigail was about to settle in her favorite chair when there came a knock at the door. She lifted her bulky frame and made her way to see who it was.
Standing before her was a tall, red haired young man. “Yes, may I help you?”
Hat in hand, he seemed nervous. She noted that he was dressed in workman's clothing and at first she thought he might be looking for work. “I am here to see Miss Jenny Barstow. The man at the city offices said she lives here.”
“Jenny? Why you have just missed her.” Abigail was wondering where all of these fellows were coming from all of a sudden. Jenny seemed to be very popular. Of course, compared to the doctor, this lad would have been a poor second. He seemed disheartened.
“Could you tell me where she has gone? Perhaps I can catch up with her. I have come a long way, and it is important that I see her.”
“She and Mr. Mitchell, I mean Doctor Mitchell, have just gone to the theater at the far end of the city. I am afraid she won't be back for several hours. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?” The young man seemed concerned at the mention of the doctor.
“Is Jenny ill? Is that why she was with the doctor?”
“Ill?” Abigail laughed. “ No, she and the doctor are courting. A lovely lad is Doctor Harold Mitchell.”
Tim McKitterek almost choked as he repeated the words, “She and he are courting? You mean like courting to be married?” Abigail was starting to get nervous. Perhaps she had said too much.
“What is your name, lad? Would you like a nice cup of tea?” Tim turned and started down the steps. “Lad?” He kept walking, head down. Abigail closed the door, wondering whom she had just been speaking to. She prayed she had not overstepped.
The next morning, Abigail mentioned the incident to Jenny. Jenny could not imagine who would be looking for her here in Edinburgh. “ The only red haired man I know is Tim McKitterek and it could not possibly have been him.”
With the mention of Tim, Jenny explained that she had written several letters to Tim, but had never had an answer.
“Perhaps he didn't receive them, dear.”
Jenny knew he must have gotten them. “The McKittereks have lived in the same house for years and I know the address by heart.” It was obvious that Tim McKitterek had forgotten all about her. Abigail watched as a sad look descended over her face like a curtain. Jenny looked at her with sad eyes. “No, I cannot imagine who the young lad was, but perhaps he will call again.” Abigail did not tell Jenny that she told the young man Jenny and Harold were courting. Somehow she felt that it had been a mistake.
Jenny seemed to dismiss the incident and finished her breakfast. Abigail wondered if it had been Tim and whether he would come back. Perhaps she should not have said Harold and Jenny were courting, but what exactly were they doing, if not courting. She did not know why the young man had hurried off. Abigail picked up her duster and resumed her dusting. Jenny is better off with the doctor anyway, she thought to herself.
Ian Murphy was very pleased with himself. He had come up with the perfect solution. Miss Barstow had agreed to do all the work, and she did it very well. He on the other hand would do very little, but take all of the credit. It had been a stroke of genius to take all the responsibility for the ridiculous error, thus meaning he would get all of the praise when the job was done well.
His Uncle John had not made another visit to the office, and Ian was still not sure why he had come in the first place. Now that everything was running smoothly, perhaps he would make an effort to see his uncle; just to reassure him that the job was secure.
Before calling in on his uncle, he decided to stop at the Gentleman's Club where he proceeded to imbibe on several pints of ale and completely forgot about his uncle. “Why Ian, old chap. Nice to see you.” Ian was already well on his way to being intoxicated. “Have another pint on me, old boy.” Harold Mitchell ordered the drinks and ushered Ian to a table near the window.
“Mitchell, I haven't seen you in months. What are you up to?” Ian spilled some of his ale trying to get the glass to his mouth.
“Not much, I hear you are working at the city offices now. How is that going?"
“Marvelous old man, could not be better.” Ian leaned forward to speak in confidence. “As a matter of fact, I have the perfect assistant who does all the work so I can spend all my time here or with the lovely ladies of the city.” He laughed out loud. Harold was disgusted. The mention of Jenny made him angry, but wanted to hear more. He ordered more ale, making idle chitchat while Ian drank them one after the other.
“Tell me more about this assistant of yours. Does he mind doing all of your work for you?” Harold was fishing.
“Mish, Mish Barshtooow is my ashistant.” He could barely speak now. Now Harold realized he had waited a little too long before cornering Murphy. He was upset with himself.
“I think you have had enough, old boy. You better call a carriage to take you home.”
“Yesh, Mish Barshtow has pledged her loyalty to me. If she was better looking, I might give her a go. Actually I might give her a go anyway, flesh is flesh.” Harold was ready to hit him and it took all of his will power to hold back. He grabbed hold of Murphy under his arm and lifted him up. Ian protested drunkenly. Marching him towards the door, Harold shook his head in disgust to the other members that were watching the commotion.
“Get this man a carriage please, Alfred.” Harold left Ian in the care of the doorman and hurried out of the club. You won’t get near her if I have anything to say about it. All of their school years came rushing back to his mind-all of the girls that Harold had dated and Ian had taken from him. Not this time, not my Jenny.
Chapter Eleven
; Tim arrived back in Watsworth on the evening train. What a fool I am. Watsworth is where I belong. I am not good enough for Jenny. She deserves better. His head was filled with thoughts as he made his way to the pub. Hopefully his room was still available.
The pub landlord was happy to see him. “Tim, my boyo, good to see you. You'll be needing your room again I take it? How was your trip?”
“Yes Jock, I will be needing the room because I am back for good. This is where I belong. No more adventures for this boy.” Jock offered him a pint, but Tim was not in the mood for merriment. He had some decisions to make. Tim took his key and retired for the night. He had been a fool to think he could just show up and claim Jenny. She was making a new life for herself. Now he knew why she had not written; a doctor was courting her and Tim could not compete with that. He had to move on. He tried to sleep fighting back the tears. Finally, he surrendered and let his broken heart cry out in protest. He felt more like a child than a grown man, but he cried himself to sleep, trying to cleanse his soul of Jenny Barstow.
The next morning, Tim went to see Elizabeth. “Tim, you are back.” Elizabeth threw her arms around him. “Where did you go? I was so worried and I missed you terribly.” He hesitated and then put his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him.
“I had some business to take care of, that is all. I missed you too, Elizabeth.” The two visited for an hour before Tim went to see the foreman at the smelting mill. He was scheduled to start work the next morning. After he left, Elizabeth took the letters from the drawer and slowly and carefully burned each one.
Tim's mother and sisters arrived at the end of the week for a visit. They were happy to get the invitation from Elizabeth, who offered them a room in her parent's home. Elizabeth and her parents were pleased to see Bertha and the children again. The Drurys were not rich, but they were well off. Their home was large compared to the tiny cottage Bertha and her children had occupied. Mrs. Drury made them at home in the attic room where four cots with handmade quilts awaited them. Except for the stairs up to the loft, Bertha found it very comfortable. Elizabeth assured Bertha that Tim did not know she was coming and it would be a big surprise for him.
Megan arrived first. “Mother, Mary, Beth how wonderful you all look.” She hugged her mother and her sisters tightly. “How do you like living in London, Mary?”
Mary, always very shy, answered quickly. “I absolutely love London. It is so busy, and so wonderfully modern. You should see all the shops we have. We even have a library, and of course, the palace.” Megan was surprised to hear so many words come from shy Mary's mouth.
“Yes we mustn't forget the palace and we even saw the King.” Beth was obviously smitten with royalty. Megan was pleased that her sisters were happy. Even her mother smiled more often.
“I am seeing Sammy from the mine. Mother, he is so sweet.” Bertha remembered Sammy. He had always had a crush on Megan and she was glad her daughter was settling down.
“How is the work going?”
“I don't live in the mansion anymore. I have a small cottage on the edge of the property with three other girls, which makes life much more pleasant. The laundry is still a chore, and it is hot and thankless work, but I am getting used to it.” Bertha held her daughter's calloused hand. “Elizabeth and Tim, and Sammy and I go for picnics on Sundays. It is such fun.” She and her mother got reacquainted along with Elizabeth, who Bertha realized was very interested in Tim.
“Tim is coming. Everyone hide in the kitchen.” Elizabeth went to the door to greet Tim.
“Darling, how wonderful to see you. Supper will be ready in a few minutes.” She led him into the parlor. Moments later the youngsters ran into the room and leapt into his lap. He jumped in surprise at the sight of them.
“Mary, Beth what are you doing here?” He looked up at Elizabeth obviously confused, but pleased. She smiled at him.
“Hello, Son.” Tim looked toward the kitchen where his mother stood. Tim removed the two girls from his lap, and then ran to put his arms around his mother. Elizabeth beamed with joy. She knew this was just what Tim needed. The family stood in a group hug for several minutes. Tears formed in Tim's eyes because he realized that he had missed his family. Perhaps this would help to heal his broken heart. The rest of the night was filled with conversation, excellent food and family togetherness. Megan left first. Tim left much later than he should have, but he was thrilled to have his family here and very grateful to Elizabeth for arranging it. Elizabeth and Bertha put the children to bed and sat together in the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Drury had retired hours earlier.
“I have to thank you, Elizabeth. This visit has meant the world to my family.”
“Tim has been so sad since the incident at the mine. I just wanted him to smile again. I knew that he was missing his family and I really want him to be happy.”
“You love my son, don't you, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, with all my heart. I do hope you will give us your blessing when Tim asks me to marry him.” Bertha looked skeptical and Elizabeth continued. “He will ask me. I know what you are thinking, but Jenny is gone.” Bertha was surprised at the mention of Jenny. At least Elizabeth knew where she stood. Bertha knew her son, and her son loved only one woman.
“I am going to confide something to you, Bertha and I hope you will respect my confidence. I received some mail for Tim sometime back, letters from Jenny.” Bertha looked surprised. Elizabeth hesitated before she continued. She looked into Bertha's eyes. “I destroyed them. I know you must think me terrible, but it is not right for her to torture him like that. She is gone, off to Edinburgh to her new life. He is here and I love him. I will make him happy.”
“Actually my dear, I am guilty of the same crime. I too destroyed letters from Jenny. She was not the right woman for our Tim. To full of grandiose ideas and big dreams, was Jenny Barstow. No, my dear, you did the right thing.” Bertha patted Elizabeth's hand, two women caught up together in a conspiracy that they believed was right.
Bertha and the children left at the end of the week and Tim was a much happier man now that he had seen his mother and knew that his sisters were blossoming in London. He was most grateful to Elizabeth. She was a wonderful woman; a beautiful woman and she loved him.
Life at the smelting mill was hard work, but Tim took it in his stride. His pay packet had increased and he was feeling better each day. He and Elizabeth went to the weekly dance in town and Megan and Sammy were seeing each other on a regular basis. Life was good in Watsworth for Tim and he seldom thought about Jenny. He had come to a conclusion after his family departed for London. Jenny had made her choice. She didn't write to him. Obviously she had forgotten all about him and Watsworth. He should have asked her to marry him before she left, but now it was too late. She was going to marry a doctor in Edinburgh. He knew he would never love anyone the way he loved Jenny, but Elizabeth was here and Jenny was not. He lovingly tucked Jenny Barstow away in the piece of his heart that would always be hers. Life must go on.
Chapter Twelve
Ian Murphy was in trouble again. A young lady in his social circle was demanding that he marry her. He had gotten her in the family way and her father was very angry. Ruth Murphy sat in her great room, trying to appease the man. “I am afraid my son claims to have never had relations with your daughter, Mr. Wilson. I really do not think she should accuse him of something he has not done. You might want to find the real culprit and stop wasting time with my son.” The man grew angrier.
“It was your Ian, alright. He must marry the lass and soon. I won't go away, Mrs. Murphy, no I won't go away.” He picked up his hat and stomped from the room. The butler, Charles, held the large door open for him. The butler appeared in the great room as if he expected her to call him.
“Charles, please send a message to my brother-in-law that I must see him immediately.” Ruth poured herself a large sherry and drank it down in three gulps. She coughed uncontrollably. John Murphy arrived late that evening, dressed in his finest
attire. “I was at the theater, now what is it, Ruth?” He was not happy that she had summoned him. “What has Ian done now?”
“Why must it be Ian? Why do you always assume it is Ian?” She was annoyed.
“Because Ian is a lazy gadabout who always causes trouble. That is why. Now what has he done?” Ruth explained the situation with Mr. Wilson and his daughter.
“What do you expect me to do about it? Perhaps he should marry the lass and settle down. It would be the best thing that could happen to him.” John paced back and forth in the great room. Dressed in his dark suit and matching cloak, he was an impressive figure.
“Ian won't marry her. He doesn't even remember her, for heaven's sake. You have to do something, John.” John Murphy was getting tired of bailing his nephew out of trouble, but he had promised his brother on his deathbed that he would take care of Ian, and take care he would.
“I will handle this, but you tell Ian I want to see him in my office first thing tomorrow morning. Good night, Ruth.” He pecked her cheek and left her alone.
The next morning Ian arrived at John's office right on time, which was very unusual. He must be guilty, thought John. John made him wait in the reception room for twenty minutes while he thought about what he was going to do. The man had to be taught some responsibility.
“Uncle, how good to see you. So sorry I missed you that day in my office. Did you meet Miss Barstow?” Ian was dying to know what had taken place between his uncle and Miss Barstow.
“Yes, a most efficient young lady. You are very lucky to have her. As a matter of fact, I am sure she is the reason you have not been fired.” Ian flinched.
“Uncle, I am doing the best I can. I feel that the job at the city offices is secure. I have every confidence that I shall be there for years, with my trusted assistant by my side.”
“Well, we are not here to discuss your job. What do you have to say about Miss Wilson and her delicate condition? A condition that she claims you are responsible for.” Ian protested, claiming he didn't even remember her.