The River Folk

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Tolly,’ she interrupted. ‘Please, listen. We are friends, aren’t we? I mean, you’ve always been my very best friend.’

  The boy, several months younger than Lizzie, coloured. ‘’Course we are. Don’t be daft.’

  ‘So, if I tell you something, you will try to understand? You will be on my side?’

  There was a sudden wariness in his eyes. ‘I s-suppose so.’

  ‘I’ve been meeting Lawrence Marsh. Tolly, we’ve fallen in love and we want to get married, but—’

  ‘Married!’ Tolly’s harsh tone and the shock on his face were almost worse than either her grandmother’s or even her father’s. ‘Marry him? You must be out of your mind.’

  Shocked, she saw that there were tears in his eyes. ‘Tolly, listen to me, please. I need your help. Will you find Lawrence for me? I must see him. I’ve got to talk to him.’

  He pressed his lips together into a hard, tight line. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I won’t.’

  Lizzie gaped at him. ‘You won’t?’

  ‘No, I won’t. Lizzie, forget him. He’s no good for you.’

  ‘Don’t you start. I’ve had enough from everyone else. I thought I could count on you. I thought you were my friend.’

  ‘I am your friend. That’s why I’m saying what I’m saying. And if everyone else is saying the same, doesn’t that tell you something?’

  Tears of rage started in her eyes. ‘It tells me that not one of my family, nor even my best friend, wants me to be happy.’

  ‘We do. That’s all we want. You know that, Lizzie. But he won’t make you happy. Not in a million years.’

  Angrily, she picked up her oar and stood up in the cog boat. As she began to work the oar and the boat began to move away from his, she cried, ‘I should have known better than to come to you. What would you know about being in love, Tolly Oliver? You’re too young to understand.’

  Then she turned her back on him and began to scull her way back up the river.

  ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, wait . . .’

  She heard him calling her, heard the anguish in his tone, but she did not look back, not once, for she knew he would be sitting there in his boat, watching her go, looking lost and forlorn.

  She did not dare to look back and, for the first time in her life, Lizzie hardened her heart against Tolly.

  Forty-Eight

  The following week there was another occasion when Lizzie was not able to accompany her father aboard the Maid Mary Ann.

  ‘You’ll stay here with your grandmother and you will not leave the yard,’ her father commanded. ‘At least that’s one thing I can be sure of. He won’t come here looking for you.’

  But Dan was wrong. The day after the Maid Mary Ann left for Hull, Lawrence knocked on the door of Bessie’s house in Waterman’s Yard. Lizzie, unsuspecting, opened the door. Startled to see him there, all she could utter was a surprised, ‘Oh!’

  Behind him, across the yard, she could see that already Minnie was standing in her doorway and Gladys was shaking a feather duster out of an upstairs window with such vigour that all the feathers threatened to come loose and flutter down into the yard. Their voices drifted across to her.

  ‘Posh company yon lass is keeping now, ain’t she, Min?’

  ‘That’s right, Glad. Bessie’ll have to get her best tea set out to entertain young Mester Marsh.’

  Recovering her senses, Lizzie pulled him inside. ‘Come in, quick.’

  She was thrilled to see him, bowled over to think that he had come to Waterman’s Yard to see her, yet she asked sharply, ‘Whatever have you come here for?’

  ‘Well, that’s a fine way to welcome your fiancé when he comes a-courting.’ Lawrence was smiling at her, his eyes sparkling with teasing laughter. ‘I’m relieved to see you’re all right. I was worried when you didn’t come to the wash-house yesterday.’

  ‘You went there? You waited for me?’

  ‘Of course I did. I saw your father’s ship go by but you never came.’

  ‘Lizzie,’ Bessie’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Who is it? Who’s that you’re talking to?’

  ‘You’d better go,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘They’ve found out. I’m not allowed to see you.’

  ‘Not allowed . . .?’ Lawrence began. ‘Oh well, in that case, I’ll just come in and have a word with your grandmother.’

  Before Lizzie could make a move to prevent him, Lawrence had stepped through the scullery and into the kitchen and was moving into the room, his hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Mrs Ruddick, I trust I find you well.’

  If the moment had not been so serious, Lizzie would have been convulsed with laughter at the look of astonishment on her grandmother’s face.

  ‘Well, he’s got a nerve, I’ll give him that.’

  Bessie was lying back in her armchair as the door closed behind Lawrence and they heard his footsteps crossing the yard.

  Lizzie sat down opposite her grandmother. She smoothed sweaty palms down her skirt. ‘Don’t you think he’s nice, Gran?’

  ‘He’s very polite, but it’s all fine talk, Lizzie love.’

  Lizzie felt the stab of disappointment like a physical pain. ‘Oh Gran, I thought you liked him. You’ve been sat here talking and laughing with him for more than half an hour.’

  ‘He’s nice enough, I grant you. Takes after his auntie, I expect.’

  ‘There you are, then.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean I want you to have anything to do with him, because I don’t. I’ve told you before, Lizzie, it’s not on. And what your dad’ll say when he knows he’s actually had the nerve to come here and me entertaining him in here an’ all. He’ll have me guts for garters. I must be getting soft in me old age. And what Miss Edwina will say if she gets to hear about it, I don’t know. She’ll be horrified.’

  Lizzie’s heart sank. Was no one, not even her dear friend, Tolly, on her side? But she shied away from thinking about Tolly. It was strange, but his disapproval hurt her more than anyone else’s, more even than her father’s.

  ‘Of course I had to be civil to the lad. He was a guest in my house, but I left him in no doubt as to how we feel, now didn’t I?’

  Lizzie, the lump in her throat growing, merely nodded, for her grandmother’s parting words to Lawrence had been, ‘I’m sorry, lad, but her dad won’t allow her to see you and there’s an end to it.’

  Miss Edwina called the following afternoon, but it was Bessie who was in for a surprise.

  ‘So,’ Edwina began, sitting down and withdrawing her gloves from her elegant fingers. ‘You don’t think my nephew’s good enough for your granddaughter, Bessie?’

  ‘Eh?’ Bessie gaped at her visitor whilst Lizzie stood quietly behind her grandmother’s chair listening to the exchange, amazed herself at what she was hearing.

  Calmly, Edwina went on. ‘I understand that Lawrence wishes to marry Lizzie, but that you, and I presume Dan, too, object. Quite violently according to Lawrence. I believe you have forbidden Lizzie to see him. Isn’t that a little extreme, Bessie?’

  ‘Well, I never did.’ Bessie was open-mouthed with astonishment. ‘You of all people, Miss Edwina. Why, it was you who put a stop to all that business between Mary Ann and your brother and yet now you seem to be condoning what’s going on between his son and her daughter.’

  ‘It’s completely different and you know it is, Bessie. Lawrence is very different from his father. Randolph was a rake and I knew he would only hurt Mary Ann.’

  Lizzie watched as the two women exchanged a long look, before Edwina went on more briskly, ‘But this is different. Very different. Lawrence is a good boy. He’s not the sort to lead a girl on and besides . . .’ She glanced up at Lizzie now and smiled. ‘I don’t think your granddaughter is the sort to allow herself to be “led on”, do you?’

  Bessie snorted. ‘Huh, she’s her mother’s daughter too, don’t forget.’

  ‘Gran . . .?’ Lizzie began, but Bessie only snapped, ‘Be quiet, miss, and speak when you’re spoken too.�
��

  Lizzie bit her lip and retreated to sit in a chair by the window, although she could still hear every word that was being said.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Edwina,’ Bessie was saying stiffly, aware that the years of their friendship could be wiped out in a single moment. ‘But Dan and the whole family are against this. There’s no more to be said.’

  ‘So, you’re going to deny these young people a chance of happiness?’

  ‘They wouldn’t be happy, Miss Edwina. Are you going to tell me that your nephew would go and live on a boat with Lizzie?’

  ‘Of course not. She would go to live at The Hall.’

  Bessie’s reply was grim. ‘Exactly. And how do you think she would fit in there?’ She leant forwards towards her visitor. ‘Our sort are servants at The Hall, not mistresses of it.’ With blunt sarcasm, she added, ‘Unless it’s the other sort of “mistress” he wants.’

  Calmly, refusing to be goaded, Edwina said, ‘I think that’s the root of the matter. You don’t really believe that he intends to marry her.’ She stood up. ‘Well, I’m very disappointed, Bessie. I had thought that in this uncertain world you would have allowed two young people a little happiness.’ She stood looking down at the older woman as she added softly, ‘Lawrence will be called up very soon now and who knows what will happen then.’

  ‘And you’d have her left a widow? Mebbe with a child?’

  Slowly, Edwina nodded, ‘Yes, I would. If I had had the chance, I would have married Christopher and had his child. At least I would have had something, instead of a lifetime of loneliness.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ Bessie’s tone was still harsh. ‘But you’ve money behind you. You would never have had to struggle to raise a child. It’d have been easy for you. What would she do, eh, left with a bairn?’

  Edwina’s face turned white and, shocked, she whispered, ‘That’s a cruel thing to say, Bessie. Cruel and heartless. I’d never have thought it of you.’

  Unrepentant, Bessie said, ‘I’ve never been one to shirk the truth, Miss Edwina, not even when it hurts.’

  Edwina let out a shuddering sigh as she said flatly, ‘I’m sorry, more sorry than you’ll ever know, after all the years we’ve known each other and been friends. We have been friends, haven’t we, Bessie?’

  Lizzie could hear the sorrow in Edwina’s voice, and her grandmother must be feeling it too, she thought as she watched and listened, for Bessie only nodded as if she did not trust herself to speak now.

  Edwina went on. ‘I’m sorry we have to part like this. Please think it over. Because you are wrong about Lawrence, truly you are.’

  Lingering just a moment longer, Edwina stretched out a trembling hand to touch Bessie’s shoulder, but the older woman remained seated in her chair, her head bowed, and did not utter a farewell or even look up as Edwina left the house. Only when she had been gone several minutes, and Lizzie got up from her chair and went to sit opposite her grandmother, did Bessie look at her, tears in her old eyes, and say bitterly, ‘See what trouble you’ve caused? You’ve lost me one of the dearest friends I ever had.’

  With a sob, Lizzie jumped up and ran from the house, through the yard and out into the street. For once, Bessie made no attempt to call her back.

  Forty-Nine

  Lizzie knocked at the back door of The Hall.

  ‘Is Lawrence here?’ she asked the young kitchen maid, who opened the door.

  The girl gaped at her. ‘The young master, you mean?’

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘Wait a minute, miss. I’ll ask Cook.’

  The girl looked flustered, wondering why someone dressed as poorly as Lizzie and coming to the back entrance should be asking to speak to the young master and calling him ‘Lawrence’ in such a familiar way too. Understanding the girl’s dilemma, Lizzie smiled to herself as she realized her own mistake. She should have walked boldly up to the main entrance, where the door would no doubt have been opened by a manservant.

  ‘Come in, please, miss. Cook says she’ll have a word with you.’

  Lizzie stepped into the warm kitchen, where the smell of freshly baking bread was like a heady perfume.

  ‘So,’ the cook began without preamble. ‘You’re her daughter, are you? Setting your cap at the young master like your mother before you, eh?’

  Lizzie drew herself up. ‘Is that any of your business?’

  ‘Oho, Miss Hoity Toity. Just like your mother, aren’t you? You even look like her. Well, she came to a bad end, didn’t she? And you will, an’ all. You mark my words. And yes, anything that goes on in this house is my business. When your mother worked here, she caused us all a lot of trouble. I got a right roasting from Miss Edwina for not having kept me eye on her. I’ll never forget that. So you can turn yourself about and get out of my kitchen.’

  Lizzie glanced about her. There were several doors leading out of the kitchen, presumably to pantries and cellars and store cupboards, but which one, she wondered, led to the upper part of the house?

  ‘Do you hear me? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be on your way and . . .’

  At that moment one of the doors opened and a man, dressed like a butler, appeared. Lizzie sprang forward, dodged beneath his outstretched arm and was through the door before anyone could scarcely draw breath.

  She entered a vast hall and stood a moment to stare around her in fascination. Then, behind her, she heard the sound of the man following her and she hurried on again, running the length of the room. She scampered along passages and up staircases, her heart thumping and yet she was enjoying the game of hide and seek. It was a wonderful old house, with nooks and crannies and plenty of hiding places. How the children of the house must have loved their games within its walls, she thought. What fun, what glorious fun life must be like to live in a place like this.

  Her pace was slower now, for she had given the butler, or whoever he was, the slip and now she had time to peep into the rooms on either side and to marvel at the solid furniture and oil paintings hanging on the walls. In one room, she saw an embroidered wall hanging.

  ‘Miss Edwina’s been busy,’ she murmured to herself, and then a door at the end of the passage opened.

  ‘Lizzie.’ She heard his voice and turned to see him coming towards her, his arms outstretched.

  She ran to him and threw herself against him. ‘Oh Lawrence, I had to come. Please don’t be angry.’

  ‘Angry? My darling, I’m delighted. I couldn’t think how to get to see you, if you were being held prisoner by the dragon.’

  ‘The . . .?’ she began. ‘Lawrence, please, don’t call my gran that. She’s wonderful, really. It’s just that she doesn’t think . . .’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude towards her. But they won’t listen to us, will they?’

  The manservant was hurrying down the corridor towards them. ‘Master Lawrence, I’m so sorry you’ve been troubled. I really don’t know what Cook was thinking of to even let a gypsy woman into the house.’ His voice was harsh as he spoke now directly to Lizzie. ‘Come along, young woman . . .’

  He was already stretching out his hand to take hold of her by the shoulder when Lawrence put up his hand. ‘It’s quite all right, Deakin. Miss Ruddick is a friend of mine.’ Pointedly, he added, ‘A very good friend. In fact, if I have my way, she could well be your future mistress at The Hall.’

  For a moment, the man’s face was a picture, and it was a credit to his professionalism that he managed with a supreme effort to mask his feelings, give a little bow and say, obsequiously, ‘I am so sorry, sir. I had not realized. Pray forgive my intrusion.’

  He turned away and marched, stiff backed, down the corridor whilst both Lawrence and Lizzie fought to stifle their laughter.

  ‘Come in here. We won’t be disturbed.’

  He led her into the room at the end of the corridor. Intrigued, Lizzie glanced around. It was Lawrence’s bedroom.

  ‘Now my reputation will be in tatters,’ she t
eased, but nevertheless she allowed him to lead her to the window seat. They sat together, holding hands.

  ‘Oh Lizzie, let me look at you. It seems ages since I saw you.’

  ‘I must look a mess.’ She tried to smooth her tangled hair and scrubbed at her face. ‘No wonder he thought I was a gypsy.’

  ‘Darling, have you been crying?’ Tenderly, he touched her face with his fingers and then drew her into his arms.

  ‘They’re all against us, Lawrence, everyone. At least, everyone except your Aunt Edwina.’

  ‘Aunt Edwina?’

  She drew back from him a little and looked up into his face. ‘She came to see my grandmother. Came to plead our cause.’

  Lawrence’s eyes lit up. ‘She did?’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes, but she didn’t get anywhere. They . . . they fell out. After all these years, they quarrelled and I feel so guilty about us being the cause of it.’

  ‘They’ll get over it,’ Lawrence said, airily unconcerned. ‘But don’t let’s waste precious time talking about them. Oh Lizzie, I’ve missed you so much.’ He held her close again. ‘I want to be with you for every minute of every day.’

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet. Then he was kissing her, with an urgency that made her gasp. ‘Darling . . .’ he whispered and she felt his hands begin to caress her waist. His fingers moved up to unfasten the buttons of her blouse and with his other arm he was pulling her across the room towards the canopied old-fashioned four-poster bed.

  ‘No, Lawrence, no.’

  His eyes were ablaze with passion. ‘Why, Lizzie? Why not? I love you and we’re going to be married. We’re engaged now. Or as good as. I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I do, you know I do, but . . .’

  ‘Then prove it. Prove you love me as much as I love you. Oh, I want you so much. I’ve dreamed about this moment. Please, Lizzie . . .’