‘Well, everyone enjoyed them, so thank you again, but I also came to ask if the staff would mind lining up in the hall mid-afternoon? Master Leonard and I have a few little gifts for you all.’
Grace and Martha’s mouth gaped open. They had never been given a present by Master Fenton in all the time they had worked there.
‘That’s right kind o’ you, Miss Melody. We’ll be there,’ Cook told her and with a satisfied nod to them all and a final friendly smile, the young woman left the room to rejoin her guests.
As promised, the servants formed an orderly queue in the entrance hall later that afternoon and Miss Melody and Master Leonard worked their way along the line forgetting no one. She gave Grace and Bertie a beautiful counterpane to put on their bed when they moved into their new cottage and Grace was so speechless with pleasure that she could not find the words to thank her, so she merely bobbed her knee.
Martha received a selection of some beautiful ribbons that had been woven in his ribbon factory in the town. They were all the colours of the rainbow and Martha knew that it would be hard to decide which one to wear first. The Mistress had even remembered Granny Reid, who was still confined to bed, and gave Martha a thick pair of woollen bedsocks that had Granny crowing with delight when the girl took them up to her. And so the young Master and his wife spoke to each servant until all the presents were given out and then the staff returned to their duties in a happy frame of mind.
Grace and Martha, with Polly giving a hand, set to to get the dining room ready for the afternoon tea, fearful that they would never manage all that needed to be done in time. Everyone was fluttering about in a panic but thankfully they managed it and once the guests had finished, the staff were then given permission to have their own Christmas dinner. Cook had prepared and cooked a slightly smaller bird for them and everyone attended, even the Tolleys and their brood. They were all tired but even so they all enjoyed it and the atmosphere was gay. Along with the goose they were served with crispy roast potatoes, vegetables and all the trimmings. Little Joey’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw so much food and he ate so much that Phoebe feared he would make himself sick. The main course was followed by yet another of Cook’s delicious plum puddings. Bertie had two helpings and then collapsed into a chair and was unable to move for half an hour. Miss Melody had supplied wine and ale to serve with the meal and some of the servants were more than a little tipsy by the time the meal was over but it was Christmas, after all.
‘Right, that’s it then, you lot,’ Cook barked eventually. ‘The party’s over now and we all ’ave to get back to work.’
They prepared the dining room and the meal ready to cook for breakfast the next morning and then at last, tired but happy, Martha was able to go and sit with her granny for a while.
‘Ah, Granny,’ she scolded on entering the old woman’s room. ‘You’ve scarcely touched the tray I brought up fer you earlier.’
‘Well, I ain’t got much of an appetite at present, pet. But I enjoyed what I had,’ Granny placated her.
The dear old woman looked so frail that suddenly all the pleasure was wiped out from the day. What would she do if anything should happen to her gran? Martha couldn’t envisage her life without her in it. But then she shook off her sad thoughts. Miss Melody was paying for the doctor to visit Granny regularly now and she could only hope that soon she would start to improve. She spent some time talking to her and holding her hand, but then Granny chuckled when Martha yawned widely.
‘Get yerself off to bed, pet,’ she urged. ‘Yer look done in.’
‘I think I will,’ Martha agreed, and kissing the old woman’s head she then tucked the blankets beneath her chin and headed off to her own room. It had been such a wonderful day that Martha was sure she would never be able to sleep, but all the same she dropped off the instant her head hit the pillow and didn’t wake till first light the next day.
Boxing Day soon proved to be as hectic as Christmas Day. Master Leonard had arranged a shoot in the grounds for the men in the morning, and the women stayed in the drawing room watching from the window. Bertie had been out since the crack of dawn beating the bushes to disturb the pheasants, and the whole event was a huge success. Maids took glasses of hot punch out to the men on silver trays, and when the men eventually came in they rushed away to get changed before going in to lunch.
In the evening the ladies played the piano and sang in the drawing room, and there was a party atmosphere once again throughout the whole house. Martha was clearing the dirty pots from the dining room when she ran into Master Fenton in the hallway, and suddenly the mood was gone.
He stared at her thoughtfully as Martha lowered her head and made to pass him, laden down with the heavy tray she was carrying, but he extended his arm and placed it against the wall, effectively blocking her path.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Martha said politely but he merely leered at her as he asked, ‘Is it right what I’m hearin’ – that you’re walking out with young Billy who works for Farmer Codd on Leathermill Farm?’
‘Yes, sir, it is.’ Martha’s cheeks flamed as she kept her eyes averted from his face, afraid of what she might see there.
‘Mm, so I dare say you’ll be thinking of marriage in the not too distant future, eh?’ he went on.
Martha shook her head in quick denial. ‘Marriage hasn’t been mentioned yet, sir,’ she gasped, praying that someone would come to find her.
‘Well, perhaps I should start to show you what will be expected of you,’ he murmured, and without warning his hand snaked out and gave her breast a vicious squeeze. Martha was so shocked that she cried out and the tray of dishes she was carrying crashed to the floor, sending splinters of china shooting in every direction. Seconds later, the green baize door was flung open and Bertie appeared.
Seeing what was happening, he roared like a bull – and as Martha looked helplessly on he raced along the passageway and caught the Master by the scruff of the neck, shaking him as a dog would a rat.
‘Why, you dirty low-down bastard,’ he cried. ‘Ain’t it enough that you raped me wife an’ made her with child? Must you now try to take her young sister’s innocence too?’
With tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Martha looked around and was horrified to see the young Master and Mistress standing in the open door of the drawing room with shocked expressions on their faces.
Grace had run from the kitchen too now and she was also crying as she hung her head in shame and wrung her hands together.
The young Master suddenly strode forward and with a strength Martha would never have given him credit for, he dragged Bertie off his uncle and held him at arm’s length.
‘Bertie, you go about your business and leave this to me now,’ he ordered.
‘But—’ Bertie protested.
‘I said leave it to me, man.’
Bertie’s arms dropped helplessly to his sides and he allowed Grace to lead him away, still glaring at Master Fenton.
‘And you, Martha, clear up these broken pots and take them to the kitchen, would you?’ the young Master now said in a kindlier tone.
Shaking like a leaf, Martha stooped to do as she was told as the young man then grabbed the Master’s elbow and forced him towards the study. The Master was swaying and obviously the worse for drink, but his young nephew showed him no mercy.
When Martha had all the broken crockery collected together on the tray she scuttled away to the kitchen with tears still raining down her cheeks, and the second she entered the room, Cook caught her to her ample bosom in a hug.
‘There, there, pet,’ she soothed. ‘Never you fear. The young Master will sort that tyrant out, now that he knows what’s been goin’ on, you just mark me words.’
Martha truly wished that she could believe her, but she could not shake the sense of foreboding that had settled about her like a shroud. And there was poor Grace who was now sobbing brokenly as Bertie paced up and down the kitchen in a blind rage. Their dreadful secret was out
in the open now for all and sundry to hear about, and they both wondered how they would bear it.
Martha prayed this was not the end of the happier times they had lately enjoyed.
Jess closed the journal with tears in her eyes as she tried to imagine the humiliation poor Grace must have felt when Bertie broke down and shouted her shame for all to hear. She supposed he must have loved her very much indeed to marry her, knowing that she was carrying another man’s child, even if it had been forced upon her. But it seemed as she read on and became increasingly entwined in their lives that Bertie was finding it more and more difficult to deal with, and that his hatred of his Master was growing by the day. Where would it end, Jess wondered – and why was Martha still here, waiting for her? And she was here . . . Jess knew that now as surely as night followed day, and somehow she had to figure out why.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘How was Bill today?’ Jess asked the next afternoon when Simon arrived home early yet again. The rain was falling with a vengeance and now the River Anker had burst its banks and the bottom of the lawn was severely flooded. It wasn’t really a problem apart from the mess the water left behind when it subsided. The lawn sloped sharply so there was little or no fear of the house itself ever being affected.
‘He only popped into work briefly,’ Simon told her with a shake of his head. ‘The poor chap is up to his neck in funeral arrangements. But worse than that, it seems that his father didn’t leave a will, which will cause all sorts of problems now. You know, Jess, it got me to thinking . . . we ought to make a will.’
‘Us?’ She swivelled on her heel to stare at him, appalled. ‘But . . . we’re not that old.’
‘It has nothing to do with age,’ Simon stated sensibly. ‘What if I had an accident? Or what if, God forbid, anything happened to you? We need to know that the children are going to be seen to.’
‘I suppose there is that in it,’ Jess agreed hesitantly, although the very thought of making a will seemed so final. As if one of them might keel over at any minute. ‘But how do we go about it?’
‘Easily,’ he assured her. ‘I make a quick phone call, a solicitor comes out to see us, we tell him who we want everything left to in the event of anything happening to either of us, and Bob’s your uncle.’
‘Is it really as simple as that?’
He nodded. ‘It certainly is, and there’s no time like the present so I’ll go through the Yellow Pages this afternoon and make the call.’
‘I suppose we could use the same solicitor who dealt with the house sale for us,’ Jess said musingly.
‘That makes sense,’ Simon agreed. ‘Just leave it with me. When would you like them to come out?’
‘Could we wait until the New Year now?’ she asked, still uncomfortable with the idea.
‘To tell you the truth, I’d sooner get it out of the way this week. I might be too busy after Christmas, and then it would mean taking time off work,’ he pointed out.
Jess nodded reluctantly, supposing that he was right.
He smiled and after dropping a kiss on her forehead he went off to the outbuildings to sort his tools out before ringing the solicitor.
The solicitor called to see them the following day, and just as Simon had promised, everything was surprisingly easy – so much so that by the time he left, Jess wondered what she had been so worried about.
The first Christmas in their new home went surprisingly well. Both the girls were given new computers each on Christmas morning, along with numerous other smaller gifts, and even Mel managed to raise a smile. They celebrated it quietly and uneventfully. Jess had started to be quite sick in the morning again and there was no one other than her close family that she particularly wanted there. She cooked them all a traditional Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, and as she prepared it she couldn’t help but think back to the Christmas Martha and her family had spent in Stonebridge House. Everything was so much easier now, thanks to all the modern labour-saving devices. She found that she was viewing the house through different eyes, so much so that she could picture the rooms as they would have been back then. It wasn’t difficult; Martha’s descriptions of the place were so explicit. She could imagine Miss Melody drifting down the staircase in her beautiful gowns and the maids scuttling from one room to another as they did their chores in starched white aprons and mobcaps. She could also sense Martha’s fear of Master Fenton, so tangibly that she could have reached out and touched it.
Simon continued to be in a good mood and apart from two nights a week when he went out for a drink or a game of darts with his workmates, he stayed in and was attentive and caring. Jess could hardly believe the change in him and prayed that it would continue.
On Boxing Day they all wrapped up warmly and went for a walk along the swollen banks of the River Anker as far as the stone bridge. It was almost completely under water and the arches were clogged with debris that the swirling current had carried there. For no reason that Jess could explain, a cold finger played up her spine as she looked at it – and she somehow knew that something bad had once happened there, although as yet she could have no idea what it was.
‘Come on, let’s go back and have a warm drink,’ she suggested, turning the collar of her coat up. ‘I’m frozen and I’ve had enough walking for one day.’
Simon nodded affably as he skimmed a stone across the heaving water and called Alfie to heel. The dog seemed to have rolled in every mud puddle they had passed and now looked more like a black Labrador than a golden one.
Jo was skipping along merrily in front of them whilst Mel walked behind them with a closed expression on her face. It didn’t much trouble Jess; it had taken her all her powers of persuasion to get her eldest daughter to come with them in the first place and she hadn’t really expected much else.
‘Ouch!’ Jess suddenly stopped and put her hand to her stomach.
‘What’s wrong, love?’ Simon asked as he took her elbow.
‘Nothing,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘The baby just gave me its first proper kick, that’s all, and I wasn’t expecting it.’ She knew that soon, she would have to go into proper maternity clothes. ‘I feel really fat,’ she said glumly. ‘And I’m not sure if it’s all I’ve eaten over Christmas or the baby growing.’
Simon chuckled. ‘I dare say it’s a combination of both. But then you can’t expect to have a baby without putting weight on.’
At the mention of the baby, Mel’s expression darkened and now she overtook them and headed for the house.
‘Do you think she’ll accept the baby when it comes?’ Jess murmured with a worried expression on her face.
‘Of course she will.’ Simon kept his eyes fixed on Mel’s back. ‘She’ll have to, won’t she?’
‘I suppose so.’ Jess wished that Mel could be just a little excited about the prospect of a new brother or sister. Jo certainly was and went on about it all the time, but Jess hoped that once Mel actually saw the baby, and realised that it was a real little person, she would be more tolerant.
‘When are you going to get the paper for the nursery?’ Jo suddenly asked, as if she had been able to read her mother’s mind.
‘I thought we might pop down and get it sometime this week. The decorators will be coming in to start on it as soon as we’ve got the New Year over, so I can’t wait for much longer.’ Seeing as Simon didn’t have a lot of work on, Jess had hoped that he would do the decorating, but she was fed up of dropping hints. ‘Are you quite sure you’ve decided on the one with Winnie the Pooh on?’
Jo nodded. ‘Yep! That’s the one I like.’
‘Then that’s the one it shall be.’ Jess smiled at her fondly, hoping that the new baby would inherit its sister’s sunny nature. Jo was shooting up now and was at that curious stage where she seemed to be all arms and legs, neither a child nor yet a young woman. She was already taller than her older sister and Jess guessed that she was going to take after her father for her height.
She remarked on it now
to Simon as they strolled along. ‘I reckon she could be a model if she keeps on growing the way she is and stays as skinny.’
‘You could be right,’ he said. ‘She’s turning into a little stunner, isn’t she?’
As soon as they got in Jo went off to log onto Facebook and Mel went to her room to play her new CDs, leaving Jess and Simon to enjoy a leisurely afternoon cuppa together.
‘Ah, this is the life,’ Jess sighed contentedly as she wriggled her bare toes and held them out towards the fire that was blazing in the grate. Simon had offered to fit a living flame gas fire in this room for her but Jess had decided to keep the coal one. It was so much cosier somehow and worth all the mess of having to clear out the ashes each morning and bring the coal in.
The following morning, Simon ran Jo into Weddington to pick up her friend, Molly, who was coming for a sleepover, and Jess decided that once he was back, she would pop into town and pick up the wallpaper for the nursery while she was in the mood. She had no doubt the town centre would be heaving with people shopping in the sales but she wanted to get it out of the way while Simon was at home to keep his eye on the girls.
As soon as they were back, she picked up her car keys. ‘I’m going into town,’ she told Simon. ‘I don’t suppose I can tempt you to come with me, can I?’ She grinned, knowing the answer to the question before she even asked. Simon hated shopping and only ever went when he absolutely had to.
‘No, thanks,’ he said hastily. ‘It’s hardly my favourite pastime, as you know.’
She chuckled. ‘I guessed you’d say that. I just want to pick the wallpaper up from town and call in to Asda on my way home, so I shouldn’t be too long.’
It was just beginning to rain as she pulled out of the courtyard, and by the time she got to the end of the drive it was pelting down. Switching the windscreen wipers on full she leaned forward and peered through the screen as she turned into the lane that led to the main road.
Lorries were thundering past with a constant stream of cars and vans between them. Jess changed down to third gear and gently touched the brake, but nothing happened. Pressing her foot down harder, she applied more pressure and it was then that it hit her like a douse of cold water: she had no brakes and she was heading towards the main road. Sobbing with fear and frustration she pumped the brakes again and again, as the main road loomed closer, and then from the corner of her eye she saw a farm gate that had been left open and she swerved the car towards it, narrowly missing the wooden posts by inches as she careered past them out of control. With shaking fingers she switched off the engine and immediately the car lost speed and bumped across the uneven grass before coming to a stop in the middle of the field. Badly shaken, Jess leaned over the steering wheel and began to cry as shock coursed through her. Had the gate not been open she would have had no option but to career into the main road, and then God knows what might have happened.
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