Don’t Cry Alone

by Don’t Cry Alone (retail) (epub)

  Cissie’s answer was to come closer. Looking into Beth’s face, she said softly, ‘If that man ever touches you again, I’ll kill him.’ Realising how deeply serious Cissie was, Beth was careful to reply light-heartedly, ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve frightened him away for good.’ She fell quiet for a moment, reliving the incident in her mind and seeing Cissie standing at the door, her blue eyes blazing and her voice trembling with anger. ‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ she murmured, her dark eyes misting over. She wondered where it would all end, and silently prayed that she would find a home for them somewhere. She did not fool herself that the task would be an easy one. ‘Leave me now,’ she told Cissie. ‘I don’t want Richard to see me like this.’ She glanced at her torn blouse and the raw scratches that ran from her shoulder to her elbow. When Cissie hesitated, she urged, ‘I’ll call you in a few minutes, and you can both help me get the meal.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Of course. Go on now.’ When Cissie turned to leave, Beth reached out to stop her, saying in a low voice, ‘When Richard’s in bed, Cissie, you and I can have a heart to heart talk.’ She knew how curious the girl must be. ‘I owe you the truth.’

  Cissie made no reply, but nodded her understanding before going out into the garden where the little boy was still engaged in his solitary game, unaware of the drama that had taken place. On seeing Cissie emerge from the house, he came across the garden to run rings round her, launching into a high-pitched scream that was meant to be a train’s whistle, and which nearly split Cissie’s eardrums.

  When, a moment later the boy had run to the far end of the garden, Cissie looked towards the kitchen. She could see Beth moving about in there, preparing for her wash. There were no words to tell how much she loved her because, though no one could ever take the place of her mother, Cissie had come to look on Beth as the dearest person in her life. She had never been so afraid as when she ran into that kitchen. She had looked at Beth, at how frantic she was, how distraught, and had felt such fury that it frightened her. She had wanted to fling herself at that man and tear his face apart with her nails; seeing Beth fighting him off like that, and her with child… it was a sight Cissie never wanted to see again. He had hurt Beth, and Cissie wanted to hurt him.

  In the kitchen, bathing the angry scores on her flesh, Beth also was reflecting on what had happened. She deeply regretted that Cissie had to witness such a thing, yet at the same time had been immensely thankful for the girl’s intervention. There was much Cissie didn’t understand. Tom Reynolds was a dangerous man – more so now that he had come into a considerable fortune. But according to what he had told her on first coming into the house, he had not been the sole heir to his father’s legacy. Luther had reserved a part of his fortune for another, although he had left nothing at all to David. It was Matthew who had been mentioned in the will. He was bequeathed that part of Larkhill which was irretrievably damaged – a millstone round his neck, a ruin that would cost a fortune to clear, a liability which would no doubt cause him a great deal of worry and heartache. Luther had a warped sense of humour. No doubt it was his way of punishing the boy for turning his back on him. Tom had asked about the boy, wanting to know, ‘Who is this Matthew? What did he mean to the old man?’ He had also shown an interest in Larkhill. Beth wondered whether he might challenge the will, but then smiled at the thought. Not even an avaricious creature like Tom Reynolds would want to take on such a burden as Larkhill, with all its inherent problems. But then, with Luther gone, she hoped that the legal responsibility of Larkhill might be rendered null and void. No doubt it would all take a while to disentangle.

  It was five-thirty when Beth and the children sat down to a meal of crusty bread, mild cheddar cheese and muffins with fresh gooseberry preserve. Having played himself out and eaten his fill of muffins, the boy was soon complaining that he was tired. By eight o’clock, he was washed and tucked up in bed, and the kitchen was once more spick and span. Beth and Cissie had taken their hot drinks into the sitting room, and were seated either side of the fireplace. The fire was not lit, though the big old house became quite chilly even on a summer’s evening. Beth was of a mind to get to her bed early, because she needed to be out and about tomorrow, searching out somewhere for them to live. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Cissie had noticed how unusually quiet Beth had been since she and Richard had returned from the garden.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Beth assured her. In truth, she was far from ‘fine’. She was incredibly weary, and though she was not in any great pain, there was an irritating sensation of restlessness deep inside her. ‘I’m tired, that’s all,’ she said. An awkward silence descended between them, and Beth knew what the girl was thinking. There would be no better time than now to tell Cissie of her past, and of Tom Reynolds’ part in it. She owed her that much. Taking a deep breath, she said quickly, ‘I knew him before ever I came to live in Blackburn.’ She was afraid that otherwise her courage might falter and she would be obliged to postpone the frank talk she had promised Cissie.

  Beth’s admission that she had known that dreadful man was shocking to the girl, and yet, when she responded, it was with the same quiet dignity. ‘How could you come to know Luther Reynolds’ son?’

  ‘When I knew him, I had no idea who he was. Even when I married David and met Luther, there was no reason for me to know.’ Her dark eyes met the girl’s curious stare. ‘The man who came here today was my father’s clerk. He was never a well-liked man, being too arrogant and devious, always causing mischief.’

  ‘Why didn’t your dad get rid of him then?’

  ‘Because he was exceptionally good at his work.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Too good, I think.’

  ‘He wants you, don’t he, Beth?’ When she nodded, quietly surprised at Cissie’s forthright remark, the girl went on, ‘He knows you don’t fancy him, and he still wants you, don’t he?’ ‘Tom Reynolds doesn’t matter any more, Cissie,’ Beth told her. ‘What matters is that we have to find somewhere to live before the four weeks are up.’

  ‘It won’t be easy.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Cissie thought a while, her neck stiff with indignation and her eyes never leaving Beth’s troubled face. ‘We should tell the authorities what he did to you,’ she said at length. ‘Happen they’ll lock the bugger up and we can stay in this house forever!’

  In spite of everything that had happened, Beth was amused by the girl’s unlikely solution. ‘Oh, Cissie! Cissie!’ she laughed. ‘I reckon they’d lock us up first.’ They were quiet for a while, Beth watching the swirling bubbles in her evening drink and thinking how life took so many cruel twists and turns; Cissie remaining silent, her gaze intent, her love made stronger by Beth’s troubled mood.

  When it seemed as though she was too steeped in memories to go on, Cissie prompted her by saying, ‘You don’t have to talk about your family if you don’t want to, Beth.’

  ‘Oh, I do want to.’ Though she desperately needed to share her past with Cissie, Beth was finding it difficult to talk about those things which she had kept bottled up for so long. ‘I don’t really know where to begin,’ she admitted, with a whimsical smile.

  ‘Tell me about your dad,’ Cissie urged.

  Beth looked away, the memories flooding back to fill her heart with pain. How could she begin to tell this girl who looked up to her that she had almost killed her own father? A father she adored, and who had disowned her? How could she excuse the shame she had lain at his door? Taking a deep breath, Beth described her childhood and the mother who disliked her so intensely that she would shut her daughter away at every opportunity. She spoke about her father, ‘a good, kind man who was driven by her shame to turn her away. She went on at great length about her first and only true love – Tyler. When she described him, his tall lithe figure, the rich black hair and his handsome face with those beautiful ebony-fringed green eyes, he came alive in her heart and the pain was tenfold.

  ‘He’s Richard’s daddy, ain�
��t he?’ asked Cissie. She was fascinated, hanging on Beth’s every word. She was not shocked, only sad that Beth was parted from her love.

  ‘Yes, Cissie,’ Beth said softly. ‘Tyler is Richard’s daddy.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is that he let me down when I needed him.’ She went on, telling Cissie what happened that night when her father had thrown her out and she had gone to Tyler’s lodgings. ‘He was never faithful to me, Cissie. The landlady’s daughter proved that. She showed me that I had never really known him. The picture she painted was a sordid one.’

  ‘She could have been lying.’

  ‘No.’ Beth shook her head and leaned back in the chair. She felt strange, ill, yet not ill. The niggling discomfort deep down in her back persisted. ‘Oh, Cissie, if only I could believe that!’ she cried. ‘But she was speaking the truth. You see, he gave her one of my brooches and…’ She paused, reluctant to remember. ‘The girl was with child. Tyler’s child.’

  ‘Have you not seen him since?’ Cissie was subdued by the awful things which had been revealed. While Beth had been talking, the girl had watched her expression change, and had sensed the awful loneliness within. When Beth shook her head in answer to Cissie’s question, she went on, ‘Find him, Beth. Make him tell you the truth.’

  ‘Even if I knew where he was, I would never go to him, Cissie.’ Beth’s voice betrayed her bitterness. ‘If he’d wanted me, he could have found me easily enough.’ She sighed, a deep sigh that calmed the raging emotions inside her. ‘He never wanted me, you see. He only wanted to marry into money, he only wanted to further his own ambitions.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Besides, he’s married to someone else now, and, from what I understand, achieved his ambition to marry into money, because he’s riding in fancy carriages and buying up land from one end of the country to the other. Tom Reynolds took great delight in giving me that particular piece of news.’

  ‘Why don’t you write to your dad, Beth?’ Cissie wanted to know. ‘When he finds out he’s got a grandson, he’ll forgive you, won’t he?’

  ‘No. I shamed him, Cissie. He will never forgive that.’

  ‘What about your mammy? If she knew you were being thrown on to the streets, surely she’d help?’

  ‘Don’t confuse my mother with darling Maisie,’ Beth warned. ‘No two women could be so different. There is no love between us. There never was. In fact, she would be only too pleased to know that I was desperate.’

  Cissie snorted. Folding her arms and falling back into the chair, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘I don’t blame you for running away.’

  ‘I didn’t run away,’ Beth corrected her. ‘I was given no choice.’

  ‘Well, I would have run away!’ Cissie retorted. But then she came to kneel before Beth, her bright blue eyes looking up and her voice trembling with emotion. ‘We’ll always love you,’ she said tenderly. ‘Me and Richard.’

  ‘I know that, sweetheart,’ Beth said, stroking the girl’s hair. Then, as though reading Cissie’s thoughts, she added with conviction, ‘You’re not to worry about anything. We’ll be all right, you’ll see. We’ll find somewhere to live.’

  * * *

  Some short time later, Beth made the rear of the house secure while Cissie went and bolted the front door – it was a pattern they had followed these past weeks. Since David’s death, Beth’s responsibilities had increased tenfold. ‘We’ll get a good night’s sleep,’ she told Cissie as they mounted the stairs together. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll see things in a new light.’

  ‘But four weeks ain’t long, Beth,’ Cissie pointed out. ‘If we can’t find nowhere else to live, what will we do when he comes back?’

  ‘We won’t be here, I promise you that.’

  ‘But where will we go?’

  Realising how concerned the girl was, Beth paused on the landing. Raising the oil lamp in her hand, so that the halo of yellowish light fell on Cissie’s anxious face, she replied softly, ‘Why don’t you let me worry about that.’ She gave Cissie a hug. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’

  ‘Goodnight, Beth.’ Cissie had been reassured by her words. She went into her room and closed the door.

  For a long poignant moment, Beth remained where she was, her mind turning over the events of the day. She had deliberately made Cissie believe that she had some sort of plan, when in fact she had none at all. Suddenly, she remembered the small bag of coins beneath the floorboards in her room. A smile came to her lovely face. Resolutely, she made her way along the landing towards her son’s room. Once there, she went in on tiptoe, to gaze down on that small sleeping figure that touched her so deeply. Even in slumber, the boy was a miniature duplicate of his father. Now, when Tyler threatened to creep into her thoughts, she thrust him away. He had not been there to help before. He was not there now. She was alone. There was no one else to help her through this crisis.

  In the privacy of her own room, Beth retrieved the bag of coins from its hiding-place. Spilling them on to the dresser, she counted the silver shillings one by one, making them up into piles of guineas. There were four guineas in total. Not a fortune by any means, and it wouldn’t last long, but at least they were not altogether destitute. She glanced around the room, at the painted landscapes hanging on the wall, the princely ornaments and many delicate porcelain pieces on the mantelpiece. They had all belonged to Luther’s last wife, David’s mother. For one weak moment, Beth was tempted to take some of these precious things with her, for she was sure that David would have wanted her to. But then she recoiled from the idea. Luther had left this house and everything in it to his prodigal son, a man who would not easily turn a blind eye while part of his heritage was stolen. Beth shrugged off the temptation. She had done many wrong things in her life, but she had never taken that which did not belong to her. Nor would she give Tom Reynolds the satisfaction of hunting her down as a common thief.

  Scooping the coins up, she replaced them in the bag, then, leaning forward on her elbows, she closed her eyes and covered her face with the palms of her hands. She was so tired. So very tired. Every bone in her body felt as though it had been stretched on the rack, and the child inside her was unusually restless – almost as though it could sense her despair.

  At length, Beth raised her face. She was shocked at the image in the mirror. Looking back at her was a shadow, large dark eyes like fathomless black pools in the thin gaunt features. Her hair was lifeless, its shine gone, wisps of stray locks framing her face, and a haunted look about her that bespoke the torment in her heart. The tragic and surprising turns of these past weeks, the loss of a good man, and that shocking incident this morning, had all taken their toll.

  Amidst all the awful uncertainty, Beth was sure of only one thing, and it was this – when Tom Reynolds returned to this house, thinking to have her at his mercy, he would be sadly disappointed. By that time, she and the children would be long gone. She recalled what Cissie had said just now. ‘Where will we go, Beth?’ She had not been able to put the girl’s mind at rest at that moment, but the answer had come to her in these last few minutes. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned towards the mirror. ‘I’ll tell you where we’re going, Cissie Armstrong,’ she whispered with a smile. ‘We’re going home. That’s where we’re going!’ Luther had done nothing to make her life easier while she was in this house. How he would turn in his grave to know that, in his wicked intent to punish Matthew by leaving him part of Larkhill, he had inadvertently helped her and the children.

  Unbeknown to anyone, Beth had paid a visit to that street where she had been so happy with Maisie. The fire had indeed caused a deal of devastation, and many houses were in a dangerous condition. But Beth realised now that it just might be possible to make some kind of safe secure home from one of the least damaged dwellings. It was not something she would have attempted under normal circumstances, but Luther, and his son after him, had given her no choice. First thing in the morning, she would outline her plan to Cissie. But for now, she must get
some sleep, for the baby’s sake as well as her own.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘But why?’ Esther faced the other woman with a puzzled expression on her stern face. ‘There is really no need for you to leave my service, Miss Mulliver,’ she went on, at the same time rising from her chair and smiling sweetly. ‘My husband may be departing this house, but my son and I most certainly are not. I have need of a capable person to oversee the domestic arrangements as before, and since you have always conducted your duties to my utmost satisfaction, I do feel you should reconsider your decision to leave.’ Her smile broadened and, to the watching woman, it was a rare and unpleasant sight. ‘I might even be tempted to make a small increase in your wages,’ she added reluctantly, her beady eyes fixed on Tilly’s face as she waited for her answer.

  Deriving a great deal of satisfaction from this interview, Tilly took her time over replying. She had been sad to see the decline of Richard Ward’s authority in this household, and the fact that he had been forced by his wife’s underhand tricks to leave his own home had deeply angered her. The very idea that she should want to stay in the employ of Esther Ward was unthinkable. ‘I’m surprised that you should want me to stay,’ she said at length, ‘and I’m even more surprised that you’ve been satisfied with my work here… especially when you have gone to great pains, day after day, to tell me how sloppy I am in my duties. You call me your “housekeeper” when in fact I’m nothing short of a dogsbody. You’re too mean to employ further help, using me as parlourmaid, scullery-girl, cook, waitress, and everything else required in a house this size. And I, for reasons you would never understand, have been obliged to put up with it.’ The astonished look on the other woman’s face was a joy to see. Encouraged, she went on, ‘As for remaining in your employ, Mrs Ward, it is out of the question. Mr Ward has always treated me with respect and consideration, while you and your son have looked on me as part of the furniture.’ She shook her head. ‘No. You have my notice and, as in the terms you dictated when you first set me on, I shall be leaving one month from today, on November the first.’ Incensed by the servant’s cool, dignified outburst, Esther could not speak for a moment. Trembling with rage, she spread her hands on the desk. Leaning forward, she said in a harsh voice, ‘So, you will leave one month from now, will you?’ She gave a small laugh, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Oh, no, Miss Mulliver. You will leave my house now. Right now!’