by Mary Wood
This last stuck in his throat, as what had seemed a natural progression of their friendship was now distasteful to him, but it would seal the whole thing as being an episode to forget and would give Katrina a chance. That was something he had to make sure of: she must be accepted! She had to be. She would be his wife, for God’s sake.
He had worried as to whether the Queen would accept Katrina, but his mother had put his mind at rest. ‘Of course she will. Katrina is the daughter of a very well-connected and high-born family.’
‘But what of Arkwright?’
‘Darling, the Queen has a great deal of respect for those who are contributing in such a huge way to the wealth of her country, and she understands the need for some of us aristocrats to marry into that wealth. Besides, not knowing that Bertram was to offer for Katrina’s hand, the Queen will assume that you have a mutual affection for each other and have made a very good arrangement. And don’t forget, I will help in that quarter, my dear, so please don’t worry about it. You have a formidable weapon in me, my darling son. French by birth I may be, but I have English society in the palm of my hands. Always have had.’
Frederick laughed at this, but knew that she was right and that neither the Lords Parvoil nor Bellinger were a match for Mama, when it came to who would be accepted in society – and the sooner they realized this, the better.
Turning his attention to his letter to Katrina, Frederick sat for a moment unsure how to begin. But then it occurred to him to make sure she knew from the outset that he believed her:
My Dear Katrina,
I beg your forgiveness for the way my friend Bellinger has treated you. I assure you that I have written to him in the strongest terms.
From that beginning, the rest flowed, assuring Katrina that she would be treated with the utmost respect in future. He also qualified his involvement with Ruth and her siblings as stemming from his gratitude to them for saving his dear mother:
I have no feelings for them other than pity. And I ask you, when deciding whether to believe me or not, to consider Lord Bellinger’s behaviour towards you, his cunning and the way he manipulates a situation.
This, he was sure, would put to bed Bellinger’s vile attempt at discrediting him in Katrina’s eyes.
Sitting back, his mind took up the thread it hadn’t wanted to leave earlier. He desperately wanted to know if Ruth and her sister were safe.
It would take days to get a letter back from Katrina, and he had nothing pressing to do. The estate, such as it was, was ticking over, and some of the farmers were beginning to pay their rents again. They’d never catch up, and he wouldn’t press them to.
So he could see no reason why he shouldn’t make a visit to Pradley and make some enquiries about Ruth. In the meantime, he hoped Katrina would write and that she would be receptive to him visiting her. He needed to get his affairs in order, and that meant the wedding must be sooner rather than later. He couldn’t arrange such an event by letter. Once all was organized, he would invite her here to stay with his mother for a few days, giving Katrina the freedom to explore her new home and a free hand in how she would make it her own. He didn’t doubt that such a determined lady as Katrina was proving to be would want to take the reins and make the place reflect her own taste. He was looking forward to it. It would be good to see new life breathed into this beautiful place.
Pradley buzzed with activity in the market lining its one main street. The noise of traders calling out the price of their wares, of folk chatting with neighbours and of children racing around, gave an atmosphere of joviality that lifted Frederick’s spirits. His journey had taken him a couple of hours – some of it over some fairly rough terrain.
Stretching his stiff legs, he wandered over to a stall selling hot drinks and sugared doughnuts. One sip of the tea he purchased had him asking for a doughnut – he needed it to take away the smoky, over-brewed taste of the tea, which had been made from water simmering on an open brazier. Fascinated, he watched the stallholder drop a lump of dough into a vat of hot melted lard, then take an iron rod and poke it through the middle of the dough. The resulting puffed-up ring took on a coat of sugar and ended up wrapped in a square of brown paper, before being handed to him. Burning his tongue, but not caring, he savoured the delicious taste and had to wipe crusts of the sugar from around his mouth more than once.
‘Hey, boy, what say you have a doughnut at my expense, eh?’ Frederick had spotted a lad crouched on the pavement with an empty begging bowl in front of him – his body bony, his clothes ragged and inadequate against the harsh bite of cold in the air. Blackened teeth, and not many of them, showed as the lad grinned and nodded his head. Shouting his order for another two doughnuts – he’d a mind to have a second one himself – Frederick lowered himself to sit next to the lad. ‘So, what do you know? Oh, by the way, I’m Frederick, Earl of Harrogate. What’s your name, boy?’
He’d never seen eyes open as wide as this boy’s did, his astonishment seeming to render him speechless.
‘Oh, don’t worry, lad. I’m no different from you, as I beg, too. I had to ask a girl to marry me just because she’s rich, and so that I can have her money. That’s begging, is it not?’
Again the grin. The lips that framed it looked as red as those of the miners did against their blackened faces, as this lad was as dirty as they were after they came up from a shift.
‘Me name’s Finwil. Martin Finwil, but everyone just calls me Fin.’
‘Right-o. Oh, here’s our doughnuts. Careful, now. I gave my tongue a blister by biting into it before it had cooled a little.’
Savouring the sugary taste once more, Frederick watched in awe as the lad scoffed his without much of a to-do, and without taking any heed of the doughnut’s heat. ‘Tell me, lad, why are you not at your lessons?’
‘I ain’t never been ter no school, Mister. But that don’t mean as I don’t know a thing or two.’
This caused Frederick a pang of guilt. Worried as he was about his monetary affairs, he was never likely to suffer the fate of this poor lad. Maybe there would be something he could do to lighten the load of such poor people in the future. In the meantime, this lad might well be able to give him some information. ‘I expect you do. You look as if you have survived thus far on your wits and, to do so, you must know most of what occurs in these parts. I wonder if you could help me? Have you any knowledge of a girl with a twisted foot? I believe she came from here.’
‘You mean that cripple of a witch, Ruth Dovecote, don’t yer? Well, her family are gone from these parts, and good riddance. Not that the rest of them were bad, but that Ruth had powers. She made a lad sick till he nearly died.’
‘Good God, what did she do?’
‘She cursed him and he took with a fever. Folk say she should be strung up, or burned, up on Pendle Hill!’
Shock held Frederick quiet for a moment. The hate the lad felt for Ruth was tangible, but worse than that, doubt stirred in his own mind. It seemed that wherever Ruth went, someone suffered. His own brother . . . No, he was being ridiculous! It was all just coincidence. Besides, uneducated people were always setting store by myths and were led by what they perceived, rather than by what was logical.
All the same, a chill went through him. It wasn’t connected to Ruth’s supposed powers, but to his fears for her. This lad spoke with the kind of venom that, if it became widespread, could cause a feral hunt for her, if she was known to be nearby. He must find her first. ‘So I take it she hasn’t been around this town since her family left?’
‘Naw, and she’d do well not to. Folk are scared of her, and I reckon as she wouldn’t last long if she came round here again.’
‘Have you any idea where she might be?’
‘I told yer, she took off with her ma.’
‘Yes, you did. But . . .’
The lad listened to his tale, then made him regret telling it.
‘Eeh, naw. We thought as the town were rid of her. The McNaughts won’t like to hear she could come
back. It were their lad as she cursed.’
‘That’s all nonsense. She was born deformed; it wasn’t her fault. When something like that happens to a person, they must make the best of it. That can’t have been easy, with the attitude of the people around here, by what you’re saying. It sounds as though they hounded her, and I suspect you did yourself. Well, anyone’s patience is going to give out under that constant barrage. It was coincidence that she turned on the lad and then he became ill, and nothing else.’
‘Aye, well, we know what we know.’
‘Very well, I’ll be on my way. But mark my words, if she does come back and any of you hurt her, I’ll make it my business to have you all strung up. Do you understand?’
‘What’s it to you, anyroad, toff?’ With this, the lad was up and scarpered before Frederick could do anything. Despite the supposed insult, he had to laugh. ‘Toff’ indeed!
The laugh didn’t dispel his worry. He wished he could find Ruth and take her to safety. Maybe, when his finances were in a better shape, he could hire someone to look for her. But then what? Have her as his mistress? No, he couldn’t do that . . . he told himself, but this didn’t help, because every part of him longed for her. And all that after only a chance meeting, which put him in her company for not much more than an hour or so!
‘Fresh sprouts and salted beef at the right price, Sir, and I can deliver up to ten miles by morning.’
‘Your wares look good. Tell me, where is your farm?’
‘I’m up on the edge of the Bowland Hills, Sir. I market here and in Blackburn – doesn’t matter to me. Me position is such that I can service both. Me main business is in meat and vegetables, but I have some dairy and am hoping to increase it. If you’re looking for a regular supply to your kitchens, I’m your man, Sir.’
‘Lord – Lord Rollinson, Earl of Harrogate. And you are?’
‘I – I, I’m sorry, M’Lord . . . I didn’t realize. Me name’s Josh. Josh Bottomless.’
‘There’s no need to be nervous, my good man. I’m the same person you hailed to your stall a few minutes ago. Just because you now know my title doesn’t mean you have to treat me differently. Tell me, have you ever come across a young woman afflicted with a club foot, on your travels? She’d be about seventeen, long dark hair.’
‘I – I, naw, M’Lord. I’ve not seen anyone like that.’
Something didn’t ring true about this. The man had a sweat on him, beads of it trickling down his face. ‘I don’t mean any harm to the girl. I just want to help her. Our paths crossed, under tragic circumstances. She ran off in fear, but she had no need to. She could have trusted me.’ With the feeling Frederick had about this man knowing more than he’d let on, he felt he had to maintain a link. ‘Do you read and write, Josh?’
‘Aye, I do, M’Lord.’
‘Well then, be so kind as to take my calling card. Contact me by letter or telegram if you do hear anything, or see her anywhere; or, indeed, her sister, who is younger and has fairer, curly hair. Very slight and thin.’
‘I – I have no knowledge of them, I’ve only just started to come as far as this side of the hills.’
‘Very well, but I’d be grateful if you kept an eye out for them. I will drop by here again sometime. I’ll not need deliveries, though. Sorry, but I have some excellent tenant farmers who keep us well supplied. However, I wish you well. An enterprising man like yourself deserves to flourish.’
Walking away, Frederick felt certain that the man knew of Ruth. His whole manner gave off an air of someone hiding something. But what could he do? I can’t force him to tell. And what if I’m wrong? But he had made his mind up: he would hire somebody to look for Ruth, and he’d tell him to begin with Mr Josh Bottomless.
‘Hey, Mister, did that toff ask you about that Ruth Dovecote? What’s he want with her? He asked me an’ all.’
‘Mind your own business.’ Josh, still reeling from the shock of having the Earl asking after Ruth and finding out that he didn’t know where Ruth’s sister was, regretted the way he snapped at the lad, the moment he did so. Young Martin Finwil meant no harm. He were just one of many living off their wits. He’d make it up to him. ‘Here, lad, if you wants to earn a couple of pennies, give me a hand to pack me cart.’
Market wasn’t finished by a long shot, but the encounter had knocked the wind out of Josh and he wanted away, before the Earl thought to return to question him some more. He felt sure he hadn’t believed him, and wouldn’t blame the Earl if he hadn’t. The man had caught him off his guard.
Working at a surprising rate for a bony, half-starved individual, Fin amazed Josh with his strength and agility.
‘I’m a good worker, Mister, as you can see. Have you any work I could do up at your place? I know where you live and it’s harsh up there. I could be a help to you.’
Josh had no doubt that he would, and if it hadn’t been for Ruth’s presence, he’d take him on. He needed help, that was for sure. Maybe if he kept Fin to the lower fields? He could have him see to the clearing of the ground for the spring sowing, and then help with the planting and the hoeing. There was plenty that he could keep Fin going at and it wasn’t possible to see the house, or any of the activity around it, from down there. But then where would the boy sleep, because he couldn’t travel there, not daily he couldn’t. Although there was the barn.
‘Look, lad, I do need help, but can only offer a couple of days at a time, now and again, and it’s a good trek to mine.’
‘I can walk that, easy. I’d do it in an hour, and I’d set off early. Please, Mister, me mam and me sister are starving. Me dad drinks all he earns. I’d do a good job and be no trouble.’
‘Reet, lad. Here’s what I can do. I can take you back with me and you can work a couple of days picking the last of the Brussels sprouts and packing them into boxes for me trip to Blackburn next week. You can stop in the barn overnight. I’ll bring your snap down to you, and there’s a brazier in there which stays lit for hours; and there’s dry straw to bed on and I’ll bring you a blanket. Now, here’s the deal. You come nowhere near to me house. You stays down at the lower-field level. Me ma gets spooked with visitors, she ain’t used to them . . . and she ain’t well.’ The lad didn’t seem to bother about this or show any curiosity. ‘If that suits you, I’ll pay you a day rate and make sure as your family has supplies. We’ll go that way when I’m done here, and I’ll drop off one of these sides of salted beef and some tatties and sprouts.’
‘Eeh, Mister, ta. I won’t let you down. I’ll not do owt you don’t want me to. And I’ll work hard at what you tell me to do.’
‘Right-o, let’s get on with packing up.’
The fact that the lad showed no interest in why Josh wanted to leave early, which was an unusual event, boded well. The lad seemed to know where his nosy-parkering wasn’t wanted, and Josh felt sure he wouldn’t come snooping around the house. Yes, it would work out well. God knows he needed the help, and Ruth would remain safe – of that he felt sure.
14
Amy & Ruth
A Flicker of Hope, but a Fear Embedded
A memory of the time a ragged muslin curtain blew in the wind and wrapped around her face came to Amy as she tried to drag herself out of the sleep that held her, but her fogged brain would not show her where that was, or whose curtain it was. It only set up a battle in her to claw the feeling away.
A commotion around her seeped through the haze, and someone wiped her forehead. A whispered voice came through: ‘She can’t last much longer. Her breathing is much laboured.’ Another answered, ‘’Tis rare for them to recover.’ At this, her body shivered as it rejected the wet, cold cloth they swabbed her body with.
The light above her struck her eyes in a painful way, but closing them didn’t help. She wanted to talk to the people around her, ask them to save her, but she couldn’t, so she prayed to Jesus’s mother to bring her through whatever ailed her. She’d often talked to the Virgin Mary since seeing a statue of her in a Catholic chu
rch she’d once visited. Always it was as if things got better afterwards, so maybe Mary did hear her prayers. Please let her hear me today.
With this thought, peace came into her and she imagined she saw the statue gliding towards her. ‘Eeh, little lady, you’re lovely.’ A light shone around the statue that didn’t hurt her eyes to look upon. A warmth filled Amy. She held her hands out towards the figure, but it went away from her and a voice came to her with the sweetest tinkle to it.
‘Not yet, little one. You have much to do.’
‘What? What have I got to do? I don’t understand.’
‘Make a difference.’
‘I can’t make a difference to owt.’
But the lady had gone and a voice of this world came to her, ‘We can all make a difference, lass. I don’t know who that was you were talking to, but whoever it was, by, they’ve worked some magic on you. How do you feel now, Iva?’
‘Me name’s not Iva.’
‘Naw, we know that, but that name has stuck to you since you came in here some four weeks back. Loopy Lil, as we call her, gave it to you. She thinks you’re her daughter. Poor Iva died in this very hospital about five years ago. Now then, who are you, love? Have you any family?’
‘I’m Amy. Amy Dovecote from over Pradley.’ As she told her tale, more of it came back to her, as did all the folk in her dream. With this last came fear – fear for Ruth and the lads – but also knowledge that her ma and da and little Elsie were all together and safe.
‘Eeh, lass, that’s a tale and half, and I’ve heard some. But yours is the worst ever. Well, sommat or someone is helping you, that’s for sure, as not ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have you down as being here now. I thought your last breath was on you.’
‘I – I sort of went – well, nearly, but the lady wouldn’t have me.’
‘Well, that’s funny talk. I’ll take it as you’re still a bit delirious, but don’t be talking like that when the doctor comes back, nor in front of Matron, as they’ll have you in the madhouse as soon as look at you. You’ve got pneumonia, but you’ve come through the crisis point, so should recover. Is there owt you want, me wee one?’