by Mary Wood
‘He told you!’
‘No, he doesn’t know that I know. I was hanging around your quarters, hoping to see Frederick. You know how I feel about him – you knew before you married him – but you still went ahead. Well, now I know things. And one of them is what happened on your wedding night. If you are with child, Katrina, it could well be Bellinger’s, not Frederick’s. And I know – and let me tell you, this hurts me more than it does you – that Frederick is in love with that whore who is now in prison, and wants to bring her here on her release.’
‘No! No, Marcia, you don’t know all of that. You have surmised it. You are more jealous of what Frederick does than I am. I pity you.’ Katrina’s thoughts were not those of pity for Marcia, but of fear of what she had said. God, I hadn’t thought of being with child! Please don’t let me be. What did Annie say? That’s it, I need to miss my monthly and then I will begin to feel sickly in the mornings. Well, my monthly didn’t come – I’m weeks late!
‘Don’t feel pity for me, thank you. Pity yourself, because when I tell Frederick the truth, he will drop you as soon as look at you. Oh, he’ll keep up the charade, but he’ll feel that he can openly take lovers and flaunt them in your face; and if I have anything to do with it, I will be one of them!’
This had Katrina defeated. Her head pounded. What had gone wrong? She’d tried to fight Frederick over having the sisters here. She hadn’t minded Amy so much. She was a pleasant girl and, by all accounts, was learning fast and would be ready to be a nanny and then later a governess, when they had children. And Amy’s friend was proving to be an excellent cook, which was invaluable, as the one who worked for Frederick had long passed retirement age and had been glad just to stay a while to teach the girl. But this other one, the cripple, was it true? Could Frederick be in love with her? No! Frederick was just being kind. But then why did he need her here? There was very little she could do around the house. Her affliction would prevent her from coping with the heavy chores. Even getting around this huge place would be a problem to her.
Frederick had asked, on his last visit, that she give some thought to a position for the girl, but as yet she’d only come up with setting her to helping the laundry maids – mending and ironing. But if . . . No, Frederick wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t insult her in that way!
She and he were happy. Even falling in love with each other a little. Their lives were harmonious, and their love-making had blossomed as they’d become more experienced and was now at an exquisite level. All in all, they had been very happy, if not fully in love. They liked each other.
Frederick’s visits home had been more frequent than he’d planned during this last month. He’d said he couldn’t stay away, that he needed to be with her. And Katrina knew that she needed him – needed what they did together. They lusted after each other, and she’d thought that was enough. It had compensated her for being with the wrong man. God, why did she have these feelings for Bellinger? And he for her? Because he did, she knew that. He expressed them every time they came into contact. And now her heart felt torn to shreds on discovering that he was lying with her sister. Perhaps she should be more understanding of the possibility of Frederick being in love with this crippled girl. He wouldn’t have asked to fall for her, any more than she herself had asked to love Simon Bellinger. Frederick probably hated himself for it just as vehemently as she hated herself – maybe he imagined the girl when they came together, in the same way she did Simon. God, what a mess!
‘Are you all right, Katrina? You’ve gone very pale.’
‘I – I’m fine. Please leave me a moment, Marcia. I’ve had all I can take of your spite for one day.’
‘I’m sorry. I love you really – you know I do. It’s just that, well, it isn’t easy being the youngest. Father has not helped my prospects at all. You have everything, as well as the man I love. It just isn’t fair!’
‘Stop it, Marcia! Just leave me alone for a while. What with you and the noise of the men working on the decorating of this place, I am at my wits’ end. I wish Mother had never suggested that you came with me. Why she did, I cannot imagine. Thank goodness Frederick will be home later this week, and that he and I are off to France next week. We will be free of the lot of you!’
Afraid that she’d gone too far, Marcia did as she was bid and left the room. As she rang the bell cord just outside the door, she felt a moment of remorse. She shouldn’t take it out on Katrina; it was childish and unfair. None of it was her sister’s fault – well, sleeping with Simon Bellinger was. Why she had, Marcia couldn’t imagine, unless . . . No, Katrina couldn’t be in love with Bellinger? But then Katrina’s reaction to thinking Marcia was having an affair with him did seem to indicate that. Good God! Well, all of this might just turn in my favour . . . All she had to do was take Simon Bellinger up on his constant attempts to get her into his bed, then flaunt it in front of Katrina to the point where she sought out Bellinger – or, wait a moment . . . Wouldn’t it be better to help Katrina get into Bellinger’s bed and have them caught? Yes, that was it! Surely then it would be an easy matter for herself to become Frederick’s mistress?
‘You rang, Miss Marcia?’
‘Yes, Annie. Lady Katrina is very upset. We had a silly sisterly falling-out, but I am worried about her. Will you please attend to her, as she is in the throes of one of her headaches? It’s my fault. Oh, and can you ask someone to come to my room in about half an hour, as I have a telegram I want to send. Thank you.’
‘Marcia, what is going on? I was just coming to join you and Katrina when I heard your raised voices. Is there something concerning my son that I should be worried about?’
‘Oh, Lady Eleonore, you made me jump. I – I . . .’
‘I heard some of what was said. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but what I did hear was very unpleasant. Be so kind as to come to my sitting room and explain.’
The uncomfortable feeling that now prickled Marcia crawled over her entire body. This was something she hadn’t expected. She’d enquired of Lady Eleonore before she’d gone in to tackle Katrina, and had been told that she was taking her afternoon nap. The last thing she wanted was for others to know her true feelings towards her sister – or anything that Katrina or she had done.
‘Please sit down. Would you like tea? Or maybe a glass of lemonade?’
‘No, thank you, My Lady. I have a telegram I want to send to Mother and Father.’ God, she hoped that lie was believed, but if not, it might trigger Lady Eleonore to reveal all she had heard.
‘Very well. Please explain what you meant by telling my son the truth, and him not wanting to be with Katrina, but possibly making a mistress of you.’
The hot, prickly feeling rushed to Marcia’s face. Oh no! Oh God, how do I get out of this? Maybe the truth will help? ‘I am mortified, Lady Eleonore, that you heard that. I do apologize. I – it was a reference to my love for Frederick. I have been in love with him for a long time, and hoped against hope that when poor Lord Bertram married Lady Katrina, Frederick would come into my company more and . . . Well, it has hurt me badly that my sister married Frederick for the reasons she did, knowing the truth about my feelings. I am truly sorry. What I said, I said in temper. My sister has never had much thought for me or for my feelings. I – I childishly wanted to hurt her.’
‘I see. So is that why your mother sent you here? Was she making sure you had no chance to be with Frederick, as he is staying with them?’
‘I think so. I am sorry, I—’
‘Please don’t be. I understand. I am very sorry for you, my dear. But to be fair, there was no other solution than them marrying. Not for us there wasn’t and . . .’
‘But Katrina—’ Biting her lip till it hurt stopped the stupid outburst that Marcia was about to make, concerning her sister’s misdemeanour.
‘Yes? Katrina what? Is she in love with another? Has she had an affair? Or committed some other deed likely to harm the marriage?’
‘No, Lady Eleonore.’
�
��Good. Whatever the truth, that is the correct answer. Now, put all of this behind you. And learn a lesson from it. Women of our class rarely marry the one we love. We have to make the best of things as they are. Look to finding a good young man for yourself – a titled one, to please your mother; and, if possible, one who will provide for you. But with your father’s wealth, that isn’t a major need. In fact I will put out a few feelers. You are a very pretty girl, and an educated one, too. Add that to your prospects as a provider of financial help, and you should have the pick of the crop. Oh, I know you think yourself in love, but . . . well, un-think it and concentrate on nurturing love with whomever you marry.’
‘I will. Thank you, Lady Eleonore.’
‘Very well, you may leave me and go and send your telegram, if you must, but please don’t do so if your intention was to involve your parents in all of this, as that would be very upsetting to them.’
‘I won’t send it now. I am glad I have had this chat. I feel much better. I will see you at dinner, Lady Eleonore.’
‘You will, my dear.’
Feeling very pleased with herself at having not only pulled off a deceit, but having gained some sympathy and possibly even an ally in Katrina’s mother-in-law, while perhaps having sown a tiny seed of doubt in her mind as to Katrina’s character, Marcia smiled to herself as she wrote the telegram she’d intended to all along: to Lord Bellinger.
PLEASE VISIT BEFORE F ARRIVES HOME IN THREE DAYS’ TIME – STOP – NEED YOU – STOP – WANT TO SURPRISE F – STOP. K.
She hoped Lord Bellinger would know that the last bit was a subterfuge, so as not to alert the servants or anyone else who had sight of the telegram. It would also provide him with a reason for accepting the invitation without having to mention it to Lord Frederick.
A clever plan, Marcia thought, though she had to admit to a little nervousness as to whether Lord Bellinger would see what she actually intended behind the message; and, if she was guessing right, that once he was here, Katrina wouldn’t be able to resist him.
Now, if the first of these went well, she’d only have to put the second part into action: take Lady Eleonore out on a shopping trip or some such on the day, so that Lord Bellinger had a clear field with Katrina – and then plead a headache and return earlier than expected. Perfect!
21
Frederick
Increasing Ruth’s Vulnerability
As he rode past the timber buildings on his left, Frederick felt his stomach muscles knot in anticipation. ‘Go past them timbers down yonder and make a right,’ the man he’d asked directions of had said. ‘The area past that will open out and you’ll see a field on your left. Opposite is Wakefield Correction House in Back Lane. Can’t mistake it. It has scaffolding around most of it, as they’re extending it – making it a proper jail, for all sorts to be housed in. Not welcome round here, but nowt we can do.’
And there it was: a building in progress, with the west wing housing some two hundred female prisoners. She was in there – Ruth. Dear God, how he hated that thought, but there was nothing he could do. Sentenced to hard labour, she’d be breaking stones, no doubt. He didn’t like to think of it, but knew it was something that she’d cope with, as her upper body had been strengthened by its need to support her when walking. He could only thank God that the planned tread-wheel – a wide, hollow cylinder composed of wooden steps built around an iron frame, which would be powered by as many as forty convicts – wasn’t yet completed. The concept of it was to punish in a productive way, getting the prisoners to grind corn or pump water wherever it was needed. Once the wheel was into motion, the prisoners would have no choice other than to continually step up onto the next plank as it came round. And they would be forced to do this for up to twelve hours a day.
If only he could get Ruth out before that contraption was built. She wouldn’t stand a chance working on it.
The thought ripped at his heart. His only consolation was that at least he could give her the few things he’d brought for her comfort. And above that, he would see her. Be with her. That had to be enough.
‘State your business, Sir . . .’
‘Lord Frederick Rollinson, Earl of Harrogate. I have come to check on the welfare of my soon-to-be charge, Ruth Dovecote.’
‘Of course, M’Lord, you are expected.’
The iron gate groaned on its hinges as it swung open. The sound filled him with dread. A putrid smell of rotting vegetables hit him, causing him to retrieve his handkerchief and hold it over his nose.
‘That’ll be the kitchen waste. The farmers from the local area are supposed to collect it on a regular basis. They use it for pigswill or manure, but they’ve not been nigh in over two weeks. Might get the governor to order the prisoners to shift it.’
‘That’s not women’s work, man.’ But no sooner had he said the words than he realized it would probably be a darn sight easier than what he was now witnessing: women in a long line, bent double over rocks, hitting them with all their might and making very little headway. ‘Good God! What goes on here, Sir?’
‘Them’s hard-labour prisoners. Men prisoners break the stones to that small size, and these have to crack them to pebbles. Serves them right, by my reckoning. Load of murderers, thieves and whores. Happen as they got off light by missing the gallows, though some are losing their appeals. We hang five t’night.’
Shuddering as much from fear at the fate of these five women as from pity, Frederick asked, ‘But what of Elizabeth Fry’s reforms? This is horrendous!’
‘I spit on the reforms. Them’s hardened women who’d rob you and kill you. They’re not fit for this earth.’
‘They are human beings and deserve your compassion. Often it is circumstances that force them into crime. It is these circumstances that need sorting. Tackle the cause, and find the cure. Is Ruth Dovecote amongst them? How does she fare, with her club foot?’
‘Aye, she’s there. Yonder, near the wall. She has a hook to hold onto with her right hand – a concession, some say – then she strikes the rock with her left. Does a good job, she does.’
Frederick’s eyes followed in the direction the man had pointed. Ruth was so close to him, and yet he hadn’t spotted her. His heart somersaulted. She looked up. Her face held lines of pain, her hair hung in thick, greasy strands, her dust-crusted eyes stared, then blinked as the sweat-beads from her forehead trickled into them. They remained closed for a second, as if she was thinking that when she opened them he’d be gone, but when she did so, they filled with tears; and as Ruth nodded to him, those tears trickled down her cheeks, leaving streaks in the dirt clinging to them.
A woman’s coarse voice broke the moment. ‘Who’s this then, Groydon? A stinking toff in ’ere, never been ’eard of!’
‘Shurrup, Ginger, and get on with your work. Dovecote! Get yourself in and wash, then get ter visitors’ cell.’
Something told Frederick not to interfere or to object. His instincts warned him that if he did, he would only cause Ruth trouble – if not with this warden, then definitely with the other inmates. Looking around at them, he felt pity etched into his heart.
The inside of the building had its own stench: that of body odour, bodily waste and stale air. Waiting in the small cage-like room, Frederick retched, but managed to swallow the bile back down. His throat stung and his breath felt tainted with the smell. Taking a humbug from his pocket, he sucked on it. The fresh taste had the desired effect.
A woman opened the door. Behind her, Ruth dragged her body. He had no other way to describe her slow gait. Her every movement was far worse than he remembered, making her appear almost hideous. Not that she could ever be that to him.
‘Ruth?’
‘M’Lord.’ Her voice held oceans of tears, and some spilled over onto her cheeks.
‘Don’t – it will soon be over. Stay strong, my . . . I – I mean, well, you can do this. You have been through so much. You can get through this.’
‘H – how’s Amy and Nora?’
‘Nora is pining to go back to the farm. Her physical health has improved, though she has aged. Her grief weighs her down. I went to the cottage hospital yesterday. She was pleased to see me and sends her love to you. She says she misses you. She realizes she cannot go back and is talking of selling. And I have plans I need to discuss with my wife.’ Ruth’s stare became more intense at the mention of Katrina. If only she knew how she is never far from my thoughts when . . . But then, he mustn’t think of that. His disloyalty to Katrina shamed him. ‘I want to buy the farm, so that Nora benefits from the money sooner rather than later. She says she wants to buy a cottage where you and she can live in peace, as she knows you will care for her in her dotage.’
‘I – I’d like that. Yes, that is what I want to do.’
‘But . . .’
‘It’s not an option for me to be in your house. I’ve thought on it and know it is good of you, but—’
‘I thought it was what you wanted.’
‘Naw. I’ll not be put under that strain. Nowt about working in service appeals to me. Working at mill is more likely to suit me.’
This shocked Frederick, as did Ruth’s question after he’d told her how well Amy was doing, in an attempt to change her mind. Pleased and relieved for Amy, she asked, ‘Would you think on educating me an’ all, M’Lord? Cos I need to learn music.’
‘Music?’ If she’d asked if he would put her in a convent to become a nun, he wouldn’t have been as surprised as he was at this. He couldn’t imagine where she’d got this notion, but as he listened to her, he remembered Haydon Green had told him that a shed of tools had survived, and in it was a piano.
‘Maybe I can lift some of your sadness, Ruth. That piano in the shed survived.’
‘Oh, thank God! Josh . . . Josh would be pleased.’
‘I will have it brought down for you and will have it tuned. But I am amazed and don’t know what to say. You, playing the piano!’
Her head drooped. He followed her gaze: gnarled fingers fidgeted in her lap.