Yet there was a cloud overshadowing these daydreams of Ella’s. Alice, her older sister, had been a great friend of Albert’s and it had been apparent to all that knew them that Albert was sweet on Alice. Ella had never been sure whether Alice knew this and chose not to acknowledge it or if she simply didn’t see Albert in the same way, thinking of him more like a younger brother. Albert had protected Alice more than once from the attentions of Williams, their cold and domineering overlooker at the mill. Albert must have been hurt when she fell pregnant, and by her refusal to reveal the name of the father of the baby, yet he seemed to delight in Beth and to seek out the company of her family. Ella was only too well aware of the resemblance she now bore to Alice, but whether this was good or bad in Albert’s eyes she couldn’t say.
Now Albert was back, and they were to meet again, the following day. Ella had spent a long time envisaging how their meeting might go, but her imaginings hadn’t encompassed the presence of the whole family. She was very inexperienced in matters of the heart: Alice’s untimely death had been so shocking that normal life had seemed suspended for a very long time. Ella had gone about making sure that she found work so that bread was put on the table; work that was not easy for her to find after Alice’s death. The blame attached to the circumstances of her death had tainted the whole family.
Ella’s drudgery at the Ottershaws’ had left her no time for idle fantasy, and by the time she moved to York she had put all thought of meeting a young man from her mind. In any case, there were no suitable candidates in the household, Mr Stevens being the only man amongst the live-in servants and some years older than she was. Ella, at first shocked upon seeing Albert at the market, then ashamed when he was witness to her disgrace on being sent away from Grange House, had discovered that a dormant seed of longing had been awakened, taken root and started to grow, leaving her excited, discomfited and nervous all at once in anticipation of seeing Albert again.
She wasn’t to know that Albert had been similarly afflicted, enjoying his visits to the Bancroft household, their informality and hospitality standing in stark contrast to the cold and strained behaviour of his own small family. Far from welcoming him home after his long absence in York, his mother railed at him for neglecting them. He recognised that his father’s dour nature, and bitterness at being more-or-less housebound after being disabled following an accident at work made him unhappy company for his mother. Yet, despite his best intentions, Albert found himself unable to stay at home for longer than an hour or so at a time. At first, he’d been able to cite an errand he needed to perform for Mr Ward as the reason for his absence, asking around the area for the whereabouts of Ella and her family. Then, once they were found, he took pleasure in being with the Bancrofts once more, a pleasure only further enhanced by his mother’s fury once she had discovered the nature of his errand, and its outcome.
‘That family…’ she had all but spat out the word. ‘That family has brought shame and disgrace on themselves and destroyed the whole livelihood of this village, if not the whole area. If it hadn’t been for the actions of that – harlot – Alice Bancroft, why, you would still be living here with us, the mill would still be operating and your father and I wouldn’t be struggling as we do.’ She went on to list all the people in the area who had been made destitute or had to leave due to the loss of the mill, their only source of employment, but Albert was too enraged to listen further, or to even try to reason with her.
The mill’s closure had indeed been a disaster for the area but Alice had been too easily turned into a scapegoat, an easy target for someone else’s hatred, and she had been blamed without being able to defend herself. Albert knew the truth and he was determined to see justice done somehow. As for his parents’ struggles, well, he had been sending them money regularly from York yet, as he looked around the cottage, he could see scant evidence of how it had been spent. He would ask his mother one day, suspecting that it was stashed beneath their mattress rather than being used to bring comfort to their daily life. He felt sure that his mother had come to prefer being unhappy. Perhaps, in fact, she had always been like that. He couldn’t remember a time when things were any different, even when he was a child.
So he had taken pleasure in his visits to the Bancroft family and his heart had turned over, too, at the sight of Ella. But, after his first successful visit, as he made his way back to York by train bearing the news that Ella had been found, he was forced to reflect that his feelings were skewed by Ella’s strong resemblance to Alice, as he had last seen her. It was like a stab in the heart each time he beheld her. Then, as he spent more time in her company, he grew uneasy that she wasn’t Alice, that she was quite clearly her own person, with her own character and mannerisms. At other times, it was as if Ella really was the Alice he had once known. He returned to York feeling confused, torn between a wish to fall in love with Ella and to marry her, and a fear that if he did so it would be the wrong thing to do, for her, for him and for the memory of Alice. Although this latter conviction, that any involvement with Ella would be a mistake, grew stronger as time passed in York, the family was still in the forefront of his mind. He had formulated a plan that he hoped would clear Alice’s name and bring stability back to the lives of her family. He had worked on it during his second visit and now they were all about to discover the nature of his scheme.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘Nearly there.’ Even Sarah was beginning to sound discouraged. The heat, unusual for early June, was making the journey over the top to Northwaite a harder trek than usual. Although the elevated path allowed for a cooler breeze, a welcome relief to their overheated faces, the sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Ella found herself longing to reach the shady churchyard, overhung as it was with trees. As they walked, she resisted looking at the distant church tower, gazing at the path instead, glancing up only occasionally to check that their destination was drawing closer.
It was with a concerted sigh of relief that the family pushed through the gate, having managed to slip through the village apparently unseen. The villagers were resting after lunch, or at work in their gardens, and the hot streets were deserted.
Beth, Annie and Beattie flopped down on the steps of the church in silence. Ella turned to Thomas. ‘Let them rest awhile, then you can take them to the pump in the High Street. They’ll feel better after a drink of water.’ She paused. ‘Mind you come straight back here.’
It was unlikely that anyone in the village would recognise Beth, or any of the younger members of the Bancroft family, for that matter, since it was over seven years since they had left, but she didn’t want anyone asking awkward questions. She herself was suddenly very conscious of her resemblance to Alice and found herself wishing that the heat of the day hadn’t prevented her from wearing a shawl that she could have drawn across her face if necessary.
Sarah, about to follow the path around the base of the church tower, turned back and beckoned to Ella to follow. Conscious of just how hot and sticky she felt now that they had stopped walking, and wishing she could have followed Thomas and the girls to the pump instead, Ella quickened her pace to catch up with Sarah.
She rounded the corner to find her mother standing in the shade of a yew tree, already deep in conversation with Albert. Ella’s heart gave its now-familiar jolt at the sight of him and she smiled as she reached them, her eyes seeking his and looking for a hint that her feelings were reciprocated. Yet it seemed to her as though his eyes skated across her face, and his smile was just a brief glimmer. Disappointed, she put it down to the fact that she was interrupting their conversation, and turned her attention to what they were saying.
‘I’ve spoken to the vicar,’ Albert was saying. ‘He’s new to the parish and has only been here a year. He has no objection to my plans.’ He paused. ‘I’m not sure that the villagers will feel the same but –’ he shrugged, then he reached into his breast pocket. ‘Here – I’ve sketched what I would like to do.’
Ella was puzzled. ‘What
are you talking about?’
Sarah turned to Ella. ‘Albert would like to raise a gravestone in Alice’s memory.’
Ella stared at her. ‘You mean this is where Alice is…’ she swallowed, unable to continue. She looked around her, then she spied a wooden cross, all but hidden amongst the tangle of wildflowers. This part of the graveyard was barely occupied and had been allowed to become overgrown.
‘Yes,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Alice is buried here. I’ve only been able to visit the once, before we had to leave Northwaite. It’s a sorry mess, with no one here to care for it over the years.’ She brightened. ‘But it’s a lovely spot, a peaceful one. And Albert is going to raise a stone, carved in memory of Alice.’
‘Look, I’ve sketched what I would like to do.’ Albert held the paper out to them.
Ella and Sarah gazed at Albert’s drawing: the curve of the stone’s edge echoed by the entwined plant tendrils and seed heads, bursting with life.
‘And you can do this in stone?’ Ella marvelled. She glanced at Sarah and saw that tears were spilling down her cheeks. ‘Albert, it’s beautiful,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t know how we can ever thank you.’
She stopped, overwhelmed too by the combination of the sudden discovery of her sister’s final resting place, by the realisation of how her grave had lain untended all these years, and by Albert’s unexpected thoughtfulness and kindness.
Albert looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m not to be allowed to carve anything beyond her name and the dates of her life. The vicar felt a dedication of any sort might be inflammatory, so I wanted to make her grave stand out for other reasons.’
He looked deeply upset at having to deliver this news, but was saved from further comment by the arrival of Thomas and the younger family members. Revitalised by their trip to get water from the pump, they were chattering away.
Ella and Albert both registered Sarah’s stricken look, as she glanced down at Alice’s grave and then at Beth.
‘What are you doing?’ Annie asked, gazing around, at the same moment as Albert said, ‘I have something else to show you.’
‘Something else?’ Annie queried, but her question was ignored as Albert led the family out through the narrow gate in the side of the wall surrounding the churchyard, and along the cobbled path in front of a row of cottages.
‘This way,’ and he led them out onto the High Street, turning in the direction that led through the village and beyond. Ella paused for a moment, looking back, struck by the peace and beauty of the location before turning and hurrying to catch up with the family.
Albert led them through the village, still thankfully quiet in the afternoon sun, until they reached the last house along the road. Ella had grown increasingly uncomfortable and the chatter of the family had died away. She hadn’t been back to Northwaite for over seven years but this street was one she had walked along daily before that. And the house that they were now standing in front of was the one she had lived in from her earliest memory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Fifteen minutes later they were all in the garden of Lane End Cottage, Albert looking discomfited as he scuffed at the ground with the toe of his boot, while Ella and Sarah sat in the shade of an apple tree and watched Annie and Beattie play tag around the overgrown vegetable patch with Beth. Thomas was lying on his back in the grass a little distance away, seemingly dozing in the sun.
‘It’s just a shock,’ Sarah was saying. ‘You’d told me about your plan for Alice’s gravestone, Albert, and that was such a kind and generous thing to do. But this –’ she gestured around her, ‘– I don’t know what to say. It’s too much. Whatever would your parents say? You can’t buy a house for us, Albert. You must buy one for them.’
Albert had a stubborn, mulish expression on his face that Ella had never seen before. ‘They don’t need a house,’ he said. ‘They have one. And I have sent money to them every month that I have been able, so they have nothing to complain of. I have had very little need of money while I have been in York; I’ve lived frugally and worked long hours, and found I had a lot put by. I suppose, in the back of my mind, I had a plan, but now that can never be.’ He hesitated. ‘I feel so guilty about what happened to Alice. If I had been here, I could have told the constable that they were making an error when they arrested her, that Alice was not at the mill when the fire started. The only person who was there apart from me, was Williams. When Master Richard arrived, the fire had already taken hold. The rest of that evening is a blur, as we tried to beat back the flames until help arrived. My guess is that Alice arrived as the others did, drawn by the sight of the smoke from afar, then coming to see whether they could help.’
Sarah and Ella listened to Albert’s account in silence. They had never been able to understand why Alice would have been at the mill at that time, nor why she would have wanted to set fire to it.
‘But why…?’ Ella stopped, unable to formulate what she wanted to say. Why did Williams blame Alice for the fire? Why didn’t Albert say something? Why did Richard Weatherall die? And who did set the fire at the mill, or was it an accident: a smouldering ember in the office fireplace; a piece of machinery that had malfunctioned unnoticed while the mill was on Sunday shutdown?
Albert’s thoughts must have been following the same path. ‘I’d patrolled the whole building but a short while before the fire started. Williams came by and said he needed something from the office, some paperwork that he needed at home to work on some figures for old Mr Weatherall for the morning. I thought he must have been and gone and I was preparing to patrol again on the hour when I saw a glow from the other end of the mill, which housed the offices. My immediate thought was that Williams might be trapped, but I saw him standing outside, just staring up at the building. And then Master Richard was there, and they seemed to be arguing. Williams was trying to hold him back, but Master Richard ran into the building. I ran to get water from the river, and others came, but it was too late, the fire had taken hold…’ Albert tailed off and stared at the ground, deep in thought. Ella had an urge to go and put her arm around his shoulders – he looked so alone and tormented – but she feared his reaction.
Sarah spoke, her voice gentle. ‘What happened afterwards, Albert?’
Albert started at being drawn back to the present.
‘After the fire, I stayed at the mill as long as I could. It was dreadful. Old Mr Weatherall arrived and he broke down, sobbing. Someone took him away home again, I’m not sure who. I tried to help, dampening down, making sure that the fire was properly out. It was nearly dawn when I left and it was obvious that nothing could be saved. The mill had gone. I went home and of course my parents were mad with worry. They feared the worst because I hadn’t come back. At first, they shouted, but I was so covered in grime and soot, and so exhausted that I think they could see…’ Albert tailed off. ‘Anyway, I fell into bed and slept and when I woke up they said that Williams had been by, and that I had been awarded ten guineas by Mr Weatherall for my bravery. And with the mill gone, Mr Weatherall had sent word to a friend of his in York and they would have me as an apprentice: a stonemason’s apprentice. I was to start at once, so by the next day I had been packed off. I had no idea that Alice had been imprisoned.’
Albert paused for a long time, but neither Ella nor Sarah spoke. They could tell he had yet more to say and what he had already said was a lot for them to take in. As the calls of Beth and the girls echoed around the garden, Ella viewed the scene with detachment. It was a beautiful afternoon in an idyllic spot, yet it was apparent that Albert’s anguish made it invisible to him.
Pulling himself together with an effort, he finished in a rush. ‘I did well and set money aside. I hoped to come back and make Alice proud of me. I had no word from home so I knew nothing of what had happened until I saw you at the market, Ella. Then, after I saw you again, as you left Grange House, and heard Mr Ward’s tale, it gave me the chance to make contact with you. When I came across Sarah at the market, and talked with
her on the way to Luddenden, I saw a way that I could do something in Alice’s memory. I didn’t hit upon the plan to buy this cottage until after that, when I discovered by chance it was for sale.’ He looked downcast. ‘I didn’t think of the memories it might bring you all and that it might be upsetting for you. I just wanted to honour Alice’s memory, to help. I can see now I was foolish.’
Ella and Sarah both started to speak at once but Albert held up his hand. ‘No, no, you mustn’t mind me. The cottage is a good investment for me. I can rent it out; perhaps use it if I return to live here.’ He ceased speaking, looking exhausted.
Sarah spoke again. ‘Albert, we haven’t been back to the village since… since Alice died. I’m not sure how welcome we will be here. But –’ she glanced around and spread her arms wide. ‘I’ve always loved this place, and I feel Alice’s presence here so strongly. I was taken aback by your proposal and your kindness. We haven’t known much kindness in the last few years. But if you would let us rent the cottage from you, then I think we would all be delighted to live here once more.’ She looked questioningly at Ella as she spoke.
‘You can see how happy the girls are here, and I can establish my herb garden again. Thomas and Annie’s walk to work will be so much shorter and Ella –’ she paused.
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