by Mary Wood
‘So, that’s it then? I’ve to thank you for so much. I don’t know how to do that. There’s nowt would come near to thanking you enough.’
‘You have no need to thank me. I have gained so much by knowing you, Ruth. I will get news of you, through Amy, and will send news about the boys when I hear anything. And if you are to thank me, the best you can give me is to get well, follow your dreams and learn music, as is your heart’s desire. And, above all, be happy.’
Allowing herself to look at him, Ruth’s gaze held Frederick’s eyes. His showed his anguish; hers, she hoped, told of her love for him. And in that moment of looking at him she tried to savour all of him. Imprint him on her memory, so that forever and a day all she had to do was think of him and he would be in front of her, looking as he did now, with his heart hurting at leaving her.
How could she ever live without him? A whimper roused her from this thought. She could; she could do it for little Josh. She’d concentrate on building a future for him – a happy future, aye, and a prosperous one. He’d never know the hunger or pain she’d known. Not if she could help it, he wouldn’t.
As the door clicked behind her earl, her instincts got her scrunching up her body, but she straightened and put her mind to all the other things she would do. She’d get their Amy out of service, and get the lads back from that place. And there was sommat else to add to her list. She’d see to it as that Lettie had a chance an’ all. She could be one of them opera singers, she could.
A giggle escaped her. Eeh, Ruth, lass, you’ve a mountain to climb with that lot, but better that than have time on your hands to think. Better that.
Brave as this thought was, she couldn’t help the longing in her heart; or the tear that plopped onto the bedcovers as she leaned forward and saw the Earl glance back as he reached the gate, then turned and climbed into his carriage. He’d hesitated. He’d seen her looking. He’d wanted to come back, she knew that. And knowing it was going to have to be enough. But would it be?
PART TWO
The Passing of Time Unsettles and Yet Heals
1861
33
Ruth
A Letter of Sadness
Ruth hobbled along the path, leaning heavily on her crutch. The letter in her hand crackled as the wind caught it and flapped it back and forth. She needed a quiet place to sit and read it.
When she reached the bench at the end of her long, landscaped garden, Ruth looked back at her house. Perched on the top of a high brow on the outskirts of Blackburn, its many windows reflected the golden hue in which the autumn world was clothed. It was a beautiful house, which stood for all that she and Amy had become in the ten years since she’d said goodbye to her earl. But at what cost? And would they lose it all?
As she lowered herself to sit down, she tossed the plait that she’d fashioned her hair into over her shoulder and gazed out at the rugged hills of Bowland.
Standing majestic in the distance, they looked beautiful with their snow-capped peaks glistening in the light of the sun. Gold and red heather wove wonderful patterns along their craggy slopes. Scant, dancing clouds played with the light, giving an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colour as their shadows splashed here and there. It was a view Ruth never tired of, and yet those hills still evoked memories she’d rather forget.
Turning her attention to the letter, Ruth retrieved it and held it in front of her. Its crinkled appearance reflected the long journey it had taken from the distant land of Australia, as evidenced by the stamp on the envelope. But how she even came to be holding it was a miracle, as it had been sent to the post office in Pradley, some thirty miles away. Someone must have posted it on.
Eeh, Seth and George. Me lovely brothers. You’ll be grown men now. I can’t believe you’ve got in touch at last!
It had been a while since she and Amy had heard anything about how the lads were. Haydon, who had remained her friend over the years, had passed on a message from the Earl telling them they’d been released from the colony, and that he no longer had any contact with them. He’d said they’d both done well and had secured jobs. She and Amy had made themselves content with that, but had prayed that one day they would hear from their much-loved brothers themselves.
With the Earl of Harrogate coming to mind, Ruth felt something clutch at her heart, akin to an ache and ever-present. She lived with it, but it came to the fore at times such as this. She had never stopped loving him.
And now she was his equal. Well, in wealth, that was. Not in class; she’d never equal him in that. She’d done as the Earl had suggested the last time she’d seen him, just after her son had been born, and had taken up her learning. The basics at first, and then, finding she had a good brain, going on to experience a love of knowledge.
With the money that Josh had willed her, and what was added to it when the lovely Nora passed on, some two years after Josh, she and Amy had bought a rundown mill from a man who had been suffering ill-health for a long time. Together, they had worked hard building up the business. Now that mill was one of the finest in Lancashire. But would they survive the current crises?
The civil war raging in America meant that raw cotton wasn’t being harvested there. There had been no shipments into Liverpool for weeks now, and their stocks were running low. There was, of course, finer cotton from India, but it was far more expensive and had a limited market. Already they’d had to lay off a dozen or so spinners, and it wouldn’t be long before they would have to cut the numbers of weavers and dyers.
But although it pained Ruth to think of the hardships this was causing her workers and their families, and she feared for her own and Amy’s future, she agreed with the principles of the war. Slavery needed to be abolished, and she hoped with all her heart that the Yankees would win and set free the black people, who it was said led terrible lives, suffering regular beatings and unbearable hardship.
With a sigh that held all the frustration of her conflicting emotions over the situation, Ruth turned her attention to the letter and dispelled her worries for a moment, as she looked at the thin paper covered in a spidery child-like scrawl. A picture came to her mind of the two young boys her brothers had been before they’d been sent to the penal colony in Sydney, New South Wales.
Seth would be twenty-four now. A grown man. Ruth tried to picture him and knew he would be handsome, maybe tanned from all that sun, and perhaps even married with babbies? And George would be just as good-looking. Eeh, he’d be a strapping young man of twenty-three. Did he have a wife and maybe a family, too? Oh, me lads, me and Amy have never forgotten you both.
Steeling herself and swallowing hard, Ruth opened the letter:
Dear Ruth, Amy and Elsie,
I’m doing all right. I hope that you get this letter.
Shock held Ruth still for a moment, and she closed her eyes. Oh God, the lads don’t know about Elsie’s passing! Though her mind screamed against the lie the Earl had told her about keeping the lads informed, she forced herself to read on:
I’ve learnt me letters in a school set up in the colony, and the bloke teaching me has promised to post this for me. As I don’t know where you are, he said to send it to the last place the family were known.
Fear trickled through Ruth. Somehow she knew in her heart there was a deeper pain to face. Why was Seth saying ‘I’, and not ‘we’? And how come the Earl had told her they had left the colony?
Forcing herself to read on, Ruth tried to ignore the voice screaming in her head that she had been deceived – and by the man she loved most in all the world. Why, why? But her pain at the Earl’s deceit was nothing compared to the agony that seared her at Seth’s next words:
I expect you know most of what has happened to me, as after I arrived here, the Governor of the colony told me that the Earl had requested updates on our progress, so I trust he intended to keep you all informed about us. But, you know, though it were kind of him and seemed like a lifeline to me, the Earl’s intentions didn’t do me any favours. It marked me as
someone who would have to be kept in his place and had to learn that I weren’t above the rest of the prisoners. I’ve suffered more than me share, because of it.
Sometimes it seemed worth it, as it gave me hope thinking that if the Earl knew of me plight, he might one day help me, but that help never came. And this set me wondering: has he told you the truth, or does he even know how it really is in here for me?
I trust, though, that he told you about George’s passing, though I doubt he told you the truth of how he died.
My grief is still raw all these years on, as I know yours will be, and I’ve thought on as to whether I should tell you, but then decided it was reet that you should know that our George didn’t have a peaceful passing, and the memory of how he died visits me in me dreams. The poor lad were flogged.
‘Naw . . . naw!’ This protest strangled Ruth’s throat. Her body shook with her sobs. George. Oh, George! Memories of his stubbornness came to her. Eeh, me lad, what did you do? What did you do?
Reading more of the letter told her how her brothers had been locked in the hold in the bowels of the ship, with hundreds of other convicts. How the sanitation was appalling and how the older, hardier prisoners stole food from the girls, women and young boys. George wouldn’t put up with this, and a fight broke out as he tried to stand up for himself and rallied others to join him. When the master took them all to task, the blame was laid on George’s shoulders.
He took twenty lashes. They did it up on deck and made us watch. It were meant to be an example to us all. George never murmured, though his back was torn to shreds. He were a brave lad.
When a woman screamed and another fainted, a big man stepped forward who’d been kind to us both. He told the captain that George were only thirteen. The captain was shocked and, due to the size of George, hadn’t questioned his age when passing sentence. He apologized, which calmed the crowd, and then said that George was to receive the finest medical attention they could offer. But it were too late. George never recovered. They let me go to him in his last hour. He fought hard to stay with us. But death took him, as he flailed against it.
A wail came from Ruth. Her agonized cry sent birds soaring into the sky, squawking in protest at having been disturbed. Tears rained down her cheeks. Putting the letter between her knees, she clawed at her shawl, as if releasing herself from its encumbrance would release her from all her pain.
But it was as she read on that the last shreds of emotion were torn in two, as realization dawned that if she’d have known of his plight, she could have helped Seth.
Being on me own’s been the worst thing. I could have coped better with our George by me side and knowing we had to look out for each other, but the stigma stuck with me that I had someone in high power taking an interest, and I suspect that only good reports were being given about me welfare. But I’ve lived a hell on earth.
When me five years were up I had nowhere to go, so I’m stuck here, but I’m not unhappy. I’m a free man, and that has made a big difference. I still work with the gangs, but have become a ganger in charge. I’m allowed to come and go, and I met me wife, Christie, when I went out one day. She were fetching supplies. Her family live in a remote place. They farm acres and acres of land. But they don’t approve of me, even though Christie has told them I’d be willing to work for them; so Christie has no more to do with them, and lives with me and our family on the edge of the colony. It’s not much of a place, more like a shack really. Me and Christie had a son. He’s six months old. I want better for him, but it’s not easy to get on when you have the stigma of having been a criminal.
Me lad’s named George, and he’s reet bonny.
I long to hear how you all are. I feel helpless as to how to make things better for you, and I’ve feared for you all for a long time, especially for you, Ruth, but I had to keep faith that the Earl helped you, as he seemed a decent bloke back then. I only hope that you’re all together and have found some happiness, and all that went on is behind you.
I will try to write when I can. Please try to send a letter back to me. I’ve included the post-station address. I’ll look in our mailbox every time I go to town and hope every day that there’s a letter from you.
I want to say soppy things, but that will make me blub, and I’m a man now. So, I’ll just say: I miss you and think of you all every day. Seth x
Ruth stared through her tears at the Bowland Hills. Now they seemed to close in on her, as if the treachery that had started on their slopes, the day she and her ma and the young ’uns were walking along that highway, was happening before her eyes.
Brushing the thought away allowed bitterness to creep into her. The Earl had promised to see to it that the lads fared well. He’d even promised that they would serve an apprenticeship and would prosper. If only she’d known. Why? Why didn’t the Earl tell me, as I had money and could do sommat to put things reet?
Doubts began to gnaw at her as to whether the letters she and Amy had written, and entrusted to the Earl to send, had ever reached Seth, as he didn’t acknowledge that their lives had changed.
Though weary from the shock and deep sadness that had settled in her, Ruth shoved the letter into the pocket of her frock, took hold of her crutch and raised herself to a standing position. She had to keep strong. Today was the anniversary of Nora’s passing and she had to keep to her plans to go to the cemetery, for she’d feel as if she’d let Nora and Josh down if she didn’t.
‘Ruth?’ Haydon’s voice came to her as if he was a long distance away, but in truth he was just along the garden path. Ruth looked up to see him striding towards her. ‘You’ll catch your death out here, lass. That wind’s keen enough to slice you in two.’
‘Ha, I’m hardier than that, Haydon. Now don’t start fussing. I’ve a lot on me mind.’ She told him about the letter, and asked if he knew of a way to get money to Seth.
‘Oh dear, that’s sad news. I’m sorry, Ruth. And it’s so unfair. Why you are sent so much to bear is beyond comprehension, but don’t worry: there is a way. I’ll look into it for you. Now sit back down for a moment, you look all in.’
‘Naw, I’m reet. I need to cut some flowers.’
‘I’ll do that, as I know I’ll not be able to dissuade you from going to the cemetery.’ He took hold of her arm. ‘Now, no more protests. Sit down, young lady!’
As she sank back down on the bench, Ruth thanked God, as she had done many times, for the loyal and loving friendship that Haydon and his wife, Lilly, showed to her and Amy.
Haydon had come to pick up little Josh, as she always referred to her son. Although he’d had his tenth birthday in January, she still didn’t like to subject him to the sadness the cemetery held. Instead she kept his dad’s memory alive in a happy way, telling him of the life they’d led in the hills and about the farm, and of his dad’s way of making her laugh. Looking after Josh for her, whenever Ruth needed them to, helped Lilly, too, because although she longed for a child of her own, it hadn’t happened.
As he cut the winter chrysanthemums, Haydon said, ‘Lilly and I are feeling more and more concerned for your welfare, Ruth. You need to get someone to help Amy run the factory – it’s too much for you, going in every day.’
‘Naw, I’m reet. Amy does most things. Besides, finding the reet person would be difficult. They’d need to know so much about the running of a mill.’
Haydon was quiet for a moment. When he sat on his haunches to look at her, she could see that he had something else on his mind. ‘Ruth, I’ve some news for you, lass, and it’s not going to cheer you.’
Ruth held her breath.
‘The Earl of Harrogate lost his wife.’ Her gasp got Haydon standing and coming to sit beside her. ‘I’m sorry. I know how you feel.’
Ruth swallowed hard. ‘Naw, I – I’m alreet. The news shocked me, that’s all. I liked Lady Katrina, she was a lovely lady. What happened?’
‘Childbirth. Four days ago – she was buried yesterday.’
‘Eeh, that’s s
ad. How come I never heard of it? Why didn’t you tell me? Did Amy know?’
‘She may have heard, as she still has contact with some of the staff over there, but she too has seen how worn out you are, and thought you’d take it better coming from me.’
Amy was right in her thinking. Had she told Ruth, her emotions would have spilled over. But with Haydon, she could keep herself together. ‘Did the child live?’
‘Aye, another daughter. Though he told me she’s not likely to survive. Born too early, by all accounts.’
Ruth wanted to scream against the injustice of this, but kept calm. They’d reached the house before she felt able to ask, ‘How is he?’ A simple question, which hid the strong urge that filled every part of her: to run to her earl and hold him and shield him from hurt.
All at once she understood that that was what the Earl had been doing, by holding back the truth about her brothers – shielding her from hurt. It hadn’t been his best judgement, as she and Amy had a right to know the truth, and she could have at least helped Seth if she’d known his plight. But didn’t his action show that he still felt something for her?
With this thought, Ruth’s heart, though heavy with sadness, lifted a little at the hope that entered her.
‘He’s taken it badly. They were a happy couple, and he fears for his new baby.’
Ruth hung her head in shame. Yes, she’d known the Earl had found happiness with Lady Katrina, and though it had hurt to know this, she’d been glad for him. Now she realized he must be a broken man. How could I have let me feelings give me such powerful hope, when I should have been thinking only of his pain?