CHAPTER TWENTY
The nest was low in the hedge. It was perfectly formed, woven from dried grasses and lined with downy feathers, which cushioned five of the palest blue eggs, spotted with brown. Ella held her fingers to her lips to hush Beth, then lifted her up to see, parting the foliage so they could peep in when she was sure the linnets were away. She’d spotted the male first, his throat flushed crimson, trilling from the top of the hawthorn bush nearby. It wasn’t long before she’d realised there was a pair, the streaky brown female already nest-building, even though the weather bore only the faintest hint of spring. She’d delayed telling Beth of what she had seen, fearful that she wouldn’t be able to contain her curiosity and would end up scaring the birds away. Once the eggs were laid, though, she felt sure they would stay.
Ella found it hard to believe it was April already. Time had flown by since the move. The first days had been taken up with cleaning and setting the place to rights, unpacking their boxes and making the unfamiliar rooms feel like a home. The weather had been kind and Thomas and Annie had got used to the walk over the moor back to Nortonstall, with Beattie tagging along in the mornings to go to school. Then Sarah had turned her attention to making some simple remedies that she could take to the Saturday market to sell; treatments that didn’t rely on a diagnosis. Soothing skin creams, rinses for the hair, potions that could be easily made from the dried herbs that she still had stored away. She planned to plant up herb beds in the meantime so that by summer she would have fresh supplies growing in the garden and could go back to prescribing remedies.
At first, Ella felt useless. She didn’t have the knowledge to help Sarah make the creams and although she did her best to work in the garden, it wasn’t long before Sarah said kindly, ‘Why don’t you keep an eye on Beth for me? And then maybe you could make a start on preparing the vegetables for dinner?’ Ella knew that Alice would have been far more useful to her mother. And that come the spring, she would have been out searching for the plants that they needed. Ella had no idea how to go about recognising them, let alone where to look. She had no work, no money and she was of no practical use.
Sarah sensed her distress and went to great lengths to reassure her.
‘Ella, I couldn’t do any of this without your help. Who would mind Beth when I go to market? Who would be there to make sure Beattie is doing her schoolwork? Who would be giving me a hand around the house every day so that I have enough free time to make all the things to take to market?’
Ella had tried hard to be cheered, but as Sarah layered shawls over her clothes in preparation for a Saturday in the spring chill of the market, taking a less-than-willing Thomas with her to carry the goods, she could only feel a sense of failure at her inability to provide for the family. Now everyone apart from Beattie and Beth were making some sort of a contribution to the family purse.
Each week Sarah returned with only a few things sold, her enthusiasm seemingly undimmed. ‘It will pick up. It takes time to establish an enterprise. People will try something out and come back when they see that it works,’ she said.
One Saturday evening, as Ella pondered the unsold bottles and jars set out on the kitchen table, she was seized by a thought.
‘Is there anything here that sets you apart?’ she asked.
Sarah looked puzzled. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. I’m the only person in the market selling such things.’
Ella turned a bottle between her fingers. ‘Even so, there’s nothing here to remind them of who you are, of what it is that they should come back for. You need labels: not just with the names but something to catch the eye, something that has your name on it.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we need to go to such trouble.’ Sarah was dismissive. ‘It’s what’s inside the bottle that counts.’
‘I have an idea though. Would you let me try something? If it makes no difference, then there’s nothing lost.’
Sarah shrugged, suddenly weary from being on her feet all day in the market. ‘Whatever you think. I’m happy to be guided by you.’
Ella sensed that her mother was a little put out that she had questioned whether the potions would sell on the strength of their benefits alone, but she decided to press on regardless. She worked late into the evenings, long after the others had gone to bed, painting trailing stems and scrolling leaves around the edge of the labels that were tied to each bottle’s neck. She asked Sarah to describe the plants that went to make up each potion and chose the ones with the most attractive flowers to add to each tag, copying their names from a list that her mother wrote out for her.
For the pots, which had previously had their contents scrawled in chalk on their lids, she created wrap-around labels that tied on with rough garden twine. She laboured away in secret, refusing to let anyone have sight of her work, then on the Friday night she shooed the family from the kitchen, closing the door firmly on them and denying them entry until summonsed.
When they all trooped back in, after twenty minutes spent fiercely debating what could be afoot, they faced a curiously shaped mound on the table, hidden under a sheet. Ella carefully lifted the sheet to reveal Sarah’s wares. They were neatly grouped with jars stacked, bottles in rows, and all dressed with instantly eye-catching labels.
Sarah gasped. ‘Ella! They’re beautiful.’ She bit her lip and was unable to speak after that. Beattie picked up the nearest jar and turned it in her hands. ‘I didn’t know you could paint,’ she said in wonder. Thomas was too busy preventing Beth from pulling over the whole display to add any comments, but he caught Ella’s eye and smiled.
‘You’re so clever, Ella,’ Annie said. ‘Everyone will want to buy these now.’
Ella laughed. ‘I don’t think so. But people might stop and look, and they will remember where to come in the future.’ She looked wistful. ‘I wish I could come with you to help.’
‘I can look after Beth,’ Annie and Beattie said at the same time.
‘Maybe in the summer,’ Sarah conceded. ‘When the market is busier. For now, I’m best placed to answer questions and we have but a small corner in the market. It doesn’t need the two of us.’
The next day, the last Saturday in April, brought a fleeting glimpse of summer. The sunshine lifted the spirits and brought more customers than usual to the market. When Sarah came home her cheeks were flushed pink from the sun and the excitement of having sold more than she had ever sold before.
‘Everyone stopped to admire your labels, Ella. They all wanted to ask questions about the plants I use. Some people bought just because the things looked so pretty, not because they needed them. Two ladies who were visiting for the day bought gifts to take back to friends in Leeds. Can you imagine!’
She added, ‘Do you know, it came back to me that my great-grandmother was an artist. We had a picture of hers hanging on the wall when I was growing up. I do believe you must have inherited her talent.’
Sarah’s excitement was infectious. Ella couldn’t believe how successful her plan had been. She was very taken with the notion that she might have an inherited talent and with the idea that someone might consider these items to be suitable as gifts. Her mind raced: what else might people want?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The day in early May when the fledgling linnets left the nest was momentous in more ways than one. Ella had walked with Beth through the churchyard and out of the gate, taking the path along the stream that climbed up the hill overlooking the village. It was a clear, sunny day and Ella was regretting the warmth of her clothing as they made their way up the steepest part of the incline, until they reached the top. Here they were met by a stiff breeze which cooled Ella’s hot cheeks and reminded her that summer was still a little way off. From the top slope they overlooked Luddenden and Beth was fascinated, trying to work out which of the slate roofs belonged to their cottage. Ella spun her round to face west towards Northwaite, high up on another hill, then turned her again, to see the moor stretching before them away into the distance towards
Haworth.
‘Where did you work, Ella?’ Beth asked. ‘Where is York? Can we see it?’
Ella laughed. ‘Not from here. It’s a very, very long way. It must be, oh, more than fifty miles. In that direction.’ She flung her arm vaguely towards the road to Halifax.
‘Is it a big place? Bigger than Northwaite? Can we go one day?’
‘Yes, yes and I don’t know.’ Ella was laughing, but Beth’s questions had brought back painful memories. Over the last few weeks she had almost managed to forget about York and the shame of her leaving. Creating the labels for Sarah’s remedies had made her feel she was doing something useful at last for the family and Sarah had promised that if business was good again this Saturday, they would find a way to make things work so that Ella could join her the following week in the market.
‘Shall we go back?’ Ella asked. ‘You must be getting hungry. And if we are quiet and don’t disturb the birds we can go and see how the herb and vegetable patches are growing.’
‘Can I water them?’ Beth was hopeful. She’d recently been entrusted with this job and took it very seriously, struggling from the pump down the garden with a watering can almost as big as herself.
‘Of course you can. And I can sit and enjoy the sunshine and watch,’ Ella teased. ‘Race you to the churchyard gate. But take care on the path!’
The last words fell on deaf ears, as Beth was already running off ahead of her. Ella, suddenly aware of the steepness of the descent, followed her as fast as she could, heart in mouth, wishing she hadn’t set the challenge. However, Beth, being small, slight and sure-footed, was at the gate long before Ella and was sitting on the grass, absorbed in making a daisy chain.
‘Sit down,’ she commanded. ‘It’s going to be for you. I’m going to crown you queen of the daisies.’
Ella, looking at the length of chain made so far, realised that this could take some time. So she stretched out on the grass beside Beth and closed her eyes. Out of the wind, the sun was lovely. The glow through her eyelids was echoed in the warmth creeping through her limbs and Ella relaxed, letting her body mould itself into the ground. She must have drifted into a doze for she was startled to feel small, warm hands around her face.
‘John?’ she murmured sleepily.
‘John?’ Beth’s voice brought her to consciousness. ‘Were you asleep? Who is John?’
Ella opened her eyes to find Beth peering right into them.
‘Too close!’ she protested, gently pushing Beth away so that she could sit up.
‘It’s not straight,’ Beth said, clambering into her lap to adjust the daisy circlet on Ella’s head. Ella hugged her tight, feeling the small body vibrating with energy.
‘John was the little boy in the house where I worked, in York. I don’t know why I mentioned him. You’re right, I must have been dreaming. I hadn’t thought of him in a while.’
‘How old is he? Can I meet him?’
‘Questions, questions!’ exclaimed Ella, giving Beth another squeeze before setting her down on the grass. She got to her feet and took Beth’s hand, relishing the grip of her small fingers.
‘I’ll tell you about him as we walk home.’ As Ella told Beth about John, she was painfully aware of the things she couldn’t say. How guilty she had felt about having to leave without saying goodbye, how lonely John was in a house full of people and full of toys, how she’d blocked all these things from her mind when describing her time in York to her own family.
‘Well, I hope I can meet him one day.’ Beth, skipping ahead up the path to their front door, didn’t see Ella’s face as she reflected ruefully how unlikely that was to happen. A few minutes later, aunt and niece were back out in the sunshine, sitting on the back doorstep, sharing a plate of bread and cheese.
‘Listen.’ Ella was suddenly aware of high-pitched insistent bird-calls around them in the garden. ‘Do you know, I think the linnets might have left the nest!’
‘Where? Can I go and see?’ Beth was on her feet and ready to race down the garden but Ella held her back.
‘No, sit quietly and finish your lunch and let’s see if we can spot where the babies are. They must be in the trees and bushes. They can’t have gone far.’
Before too long, Ella and Beth had pinpointed the location of five baby birds in the garden, through a combination of their noisy and persistent demands to be fed, and by the harried parent birds flying back and forth. The babies were tucked away out of sight for the most part, but every now and then one of the bolder ones broke cover and they caught sight of a small ball of fluffy brown feathers, dominated by a wide, gaping beak.
‘Why are they so hungry?’ Beth asked after they’d watched them for at least fifteen minutes, during which their demands to be fed showed no signs of abating.
‘I think it must be because they are growing so fast. The poor parents! They seem to be getting thinner by the minute. I don’t think we are going to be able to water the garden just yet. We’d better wait until later. Maybe the little ones will get sleepy and we can do it without disturbing them.’
So Ella set aside her feelings of guilt about not getting anything done around the house and, with Beth nestled in beside her, settled down for another stretch of baby-bird watching. This was the scene that greeted Sarah when she struggled through the door half-an-hour later.
‘I’m back. It was another good day at the market. And look who I’ve brought to see you!’
Ella and Beth both turned and Ella tried to rise, a little stiff from so long spent sitting on the step. Her eyes took a moment or two to adjust to the darkness of the interior after the brightness of the garden. At first, she could barely make out Sarah’s companion, other than to discern that it was a man. Then as her vision adjusted she had a moment of puzzlement before gasping ‘Albert! Whatever are you doing here?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘So who can this be?’ Albert had demanded, after his surprising appearance in the kitchen in Luddenden, crouching down to bring himself to the same level as Beth. ‘Why, I do believe it is Miss Elisabeth –’ he hesitated, before adding with a note of enquiry, ‘– Bancroft?’
‘Yes, Elisabeth Bancroft,’ replied Sarah firmly, at the same moment as Beth, taking refuge behind Sarah’s skirts, peeped out and said ‘Beth’ very emphatically.
‘Beth Bancroft,’ said Albert. ‘That has a very pleasing ring to it.’
‘Albert, you haven’t answered my question. Whatever are you doing here?’ Ella repeated, having finally recovered from her astonishment.
‘Ella!’ admonished Sarah. ‘At least make Albert a cup of tea before plying him with questions. And me too – I’m quite exhausted after such a busy day.’
Ella busied herself at the stove, stealing covert glances at Albert as if she might be able to deduce the reason for his arrival just by observing him. Meanwhile, he worked his way into Beth’s confidence, conjuring a feather from behind one ear and a pencil from behind the other, until her nervous solemnity gave way to laughter.
‘Albert has quite a tale to tell,’ Sarah said, as Ella dispensed tea from the big brown pot and hunted in the larder to see whether there was a piece of cake to be found for their visitor.
‘Sit down, Ella,’ Albert said, as Ella sliced the precious remnants of a fruit loaf and spread it with butter. ‘You’ve been a difficult person to find. I was beginning to think you had vanished without trace.’
Ella settled herself at the kitchen table, facing Albert and Sarah, and Beth clambered onto her lap, hopeful of cake to share.
‘But I don’t understand why you have been looking for me? Nor why I was so difficult to find.’
Albert stirred his tea, thinking back. ‘Well, I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw you in that carriage, being driven away from the Wards’ house.’
‘What were you doing there?’ Ella interjected. ‘Were you looking for me?’
‘Yes and no,’ Albert replied. ‘I was looking for you, but not at the Wards’ house. I had no expec
tation of finding you there. After seeing you in the market I cursed myself for allowing you to leave without at least discovering where you worked, and how I could meet you again. I was so shocked by your news of Alice –’ here Albert broke off. Visibly pulling himself together, he continued, ‘– and I had left myself in a position where I had no way of learning more. I had been asked to call at Grange House to discuss a business matter with Mr Ward, some stone carvings that he wished to have designed for the gates of a house that he was building. It was pure chance that I arrived just as you were leaving. I could scarcely believe it when the butler – what was his name?’ Albert broke off again.
‘Mr Stevens,’ supplied Ella.
‘Yes, Stevens. When he told me that you had gone for good. He was very circumspect, didn’t want to tell me what was going on. Just that you were in some sort of trouble. He was so guarded that I feared the worst, that something had happened back here, to Sarah or to Beth.’ Albert paused again, to smile at Beth who had looked up from playing with the crumbs on Ella’s plate on hearing her name.
‘So when I was shown in to see Mr Ward, instead of settling down to have the expected discussion about the feasibility of his carved-stone gatehouse he found himself faced with an apparent madman, demanding to know the whereabouts of one of his servants.’ Albert chuckled at the memory, while Ella allowed the picture he had drawn to sink in. ‘It was lucky that he was so keen to use my services, otherwise I would surely have found myself thrown out on my ear. When he told me what you were accused of, then followed up with some story about how you were from the family of a bad lot, that your sister was a murderer…’ here Albert broke off as Sarah glanced anxiously at Beth, luckily now bored by the discussion and in the process of slipping from Ella’s knee to return to her bird-watching from the doorstep.
‘Well,’ Albert resumed. ‘It was my turn to be speechless. I had no idea that this was the story that had been put about. I almost lost my mind. I was still reeling from the news that you had given me about Alice – that she had died.’ Albert swallowed hard and then continued. ‘I could barely comprehend what Mr Ward was saying, or how any of this was tied to you, Ella. He attempted to brush it aside and continue our business discussion but I could have none of it. I demanded he tell me what he knew, which turned out to be little of substance, then I set out what I knew of your family, how many years I had known you all, the nature of the Alice that I knew and of her good character. And, all the while, my hatred of Williams grew. In the retelling it became clearer to me how he must have created all this in revenge for Alice’s refusal to marry him. He must have been instrumental in getting me out of the way so swiftly to take up my apprenticeship in York, knowing that my evidence as nightwatchman would have shown him to be a liar about the fire that destroyed the mill.’
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