by Diane Allen
‘Aye, she looked so happy this morning, she must have had a good night, too.’ Lily grinned.
‘Ladies, please! Spare me my blushes and change the subject.’ Yates rose from his chair. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make sure that all is in its place in their bedroom, in readiness for Mr Dawson’s return.’
‘Aye, you do that, and then we can carry on with our gossip. It’s very rare we have time without that eavesdropping Dodgy Dodgson listening in, and all’s in hand down here.’ Mrs Batty put her feet up on the small stool and looked into the fire. ‘I might even have five minutes’ nap while the old bat is out. I’m jiggered.’
‘Mrs Batty!’ Yates exclaimed.
‘Well, that one deserves all she gets, and you know it.’ The cook closed her eyes and listened to Mazy and Lily giggling at her comments, and thought how good life would be without Dora Dodgson.
11
‘That looks wonderful, Mrs Batty.’ Charlotte stood back and admired the dining-room table adorned with sparkling crystal, silver platters and enough food to feed an army. Steaming hot bowls of vegetable and beef broth were to be served fresh from the kitchen to start the meal, and then there would be carving joints along the table, with pickles and cheeses and breads in equal quantities. ‘The puddings look fantastic.’ She looked across at the long dresser adorned with blancmanges, jellies, pies and flans.
‘Aye, well, we thought we might as well impress. Yates, Jethro the footman and the stable lad, and even Mazy can manage to serve something as simple as this quickly and easily, seeing as Mrs Dodgson doesn’t seem to want to employ any outside staff.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Batty, she’s quite adamant that you will all manage, and I’m sure you will. I’d help if I could.’ Charlotte looked at the fretful cook. ‘I’m afraid Mrs Dodgson is a force to be reckoned with, and sometimes influences my husband too much. But you didn’t hear that from me.’
‘I’m sure it will be to Mr Dawson’s satisfaction.’ Mrs Batty coughed loudly, attracting Charlotte to Dora’s presence as she entered the room, and hoping that her mistress’s last comment had not been heard over the sound of the band in the main hall striking up.
‘Waste of time and money. And if he thinks I’m going to watch half the county eating at his expense and making fools of themselves trying to dance, then he can think again.’ Charlotte looked shocked that Dora was talking about her employer in that way.
‘I don’t think Joseph will take kindly to the way you are talking about the Christmas Ball. I feel I should convey your thoughts to him, Mrs Dodgson.’ Charlotte stood her ground with the grumpy housekeeper, who was most definitely overstepping her position in the household.
‘Suit yourself. He already knows what I think. Besides, look at the weather: that sky is threatening snow, you mark my words.’ Dora looked out of the dining-room window and bit her tongue from saying worse to the woman who was growing stronger by the day, as Joseph became more infatuated with her.
‘Well, if it does snow, we’ve plenty of spare rooms, and most will only have come from nearby Settle. It’s just a short walk, even if they don’t come by carriage. I’m sure it will be a splendid night.’ Charlotte smiled.
‘Aye, well, we’ll do our best; it’ll not be for the want of trying. I suppose you’ll want me to feed the band as well? Are they to eat with us downstairs, after the ball? Because I’ll be ready for my bed after all this.’ Mrs Batty sighed; she’d been run off her feet all day and she knew that she’d not see her bed before 2 a.m. the next morning.
‘If you could, Mrs Batty. Don’t they look splendid? And listen to that divine music – my feet won’t be able to keep still.’ Charlotte smiled at the cook, who had gone all out to make sure the evening was a success, and she appreciated it. The music was floating in from the main hall and her feet just wouldn’t stay still. ‘Do you dance, Mrs Dodgson? Once dinner is served, I’m sure Joseph wouldn’t mind the staff watching, or perhaps even dancing on the outskirts of the room.
‘I most certainly do not. I will go to my room, once I know everyone’s been fed. I’ve no time for flippancy. This wouldn’t have happened if we’d still been living in Accrington.’ Dora picked up her skirts and left the dining room. Why hadn’t Joseph listened to her and kept a low profile? The stupid man. Half the district was to be at Windfell Manor tonight, and she wanted none of it.
‘Sorry, Mistress, but she’s just a misery. I know I shouldn’t say that.’ Mrs Batty waddled towards the doorway of the dining room.
‘I agree, Mrs Batty. But now excuse me, I have to change. Could you ask Lily to come up to my room, please? Joseph is just coming down the stairs, so he is free to greet any early guests while I change.’
‘Of course I will, ma’am, and I bet you will look the belle of the ball.’ Mrs Batty smiled; she had grown fond of the lass who had first been so unsure of her role in the big house. Now she was turning into a real lady, to the dismay of Mrs Dodgson.
Charlotte walked across the hallway and smiled at the four-piece band who were gleefully playing a merry jig to an empty hallway. She met Joseph at the bottom of the wrought-iron staircase, gently placing her hand on the sleeve of his dashing red velvet jacket. ‘You’re looking handsome, my dear.’ She smiled at her darkhaired husband as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, and waited for his reply.
‘I’m sure you will look equally beautiful, if you get a move on. Our guests will be with us any minute, and you are talking to the cook. Where’s Mrs Dodgson? Talking to the cook is her job.’ Joseph watched as his wife listened to the band.
‘She’s gone down to the kitchen. I don’t think tonight’s event is to her taste. And besides, I just wanted to check with Mrs Batty that everything was in hand, and I knew Yates was with you.’ Charlotte lifted her skirts and started to climb the stairs.
‘Charlotte, I need to talk to you later. I’ve received a bill from the milliner’s in Settle that I didn’t authorize. They say it was your doing.’ Joseph looked stern as she stopped in her tracks.
‘It was only for a few things, Joseph. I’ve no say over my money any more; I didn’t think you would mind.’
‘We’ll talk later. The stairs are no place to discuss money matters, but needless to say, I’m not happy, Charlotte. I will buy what you need, do you understand?’ He lingered by the black-painted wrought-iron lion’s head that adorned the stair end and looked up at his wife.
‘I understand, Joseph. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do need to change.’ Charlotte knew the look that he gave her would mean a lecture later, and she could feel herself getting upset at the thought of being put in her place yet again. Especially on a night when she had been feeling happy at last with her life at Windfell Manor. She ran up the stairs and into their marital bedroom and waited for Lily, the butterflies mounting in her stomach at the thought of Joseph’s black look and the way he could make her feel, over spending a few pounds on herself. Damn it, she’d never be what he wanted her to be, and she was becoming tired of acting like a brainless doll. Surely no other husband in his position would quibble over a few pounds spent on a hat and gloves, for someone they loved?
Charlotte ran her hand over the beautiful blue silk ballgown that had arrived that morning for her to wear tonight. Joseph had gone to the bother of spending all that money without her knowledge, but when it came to buying something of her own choice, it was a different matter. He just liked to be in control of everything. It would seem that he and Mrs Dodgson were birds of a feather – both out to spoil anyone’s enjoyment. Her thoughts were interrupted by Lily’s timid knock on her bedroom door.
‘Come in, Lily.’ She left her bedside and sat on the stool at her dressing table, looking at herself. She’d changed this last month or two. The bloom in her cheeks had left her and now she was replacing it with rouge, to camouflage the drawn look of her face.
‘Oh, Mistress, people are starting to arrive. Your father’s here with his guest. And doesn’t Mr Dawson look handsome? The band is playing, an
d everyone is smiling.’ Lily could hardly draw breath between sentences.
‘My father’s here, and Mrs Cranston? Hurry, Lily, get me out of this and into my dress – I can’t wait to see them.’ Charlotte quickly finished applying the rouge and stood up, for Lily to undo the laces on the back of her bodice.
‘This dress is beautiful – it is the same colour as your eyes. Mr Dawson does have good taste.’ She slipped the silk dress over Charlotte’s head and then asked her to hold onto the bedpost, as she pulled on the laces to tie the back of the bodice up tightly.
‘Don’t lace it too tight, Lily, I can hardly breathe. He should have let me go to the dressmaker’s to be measured – this one’s a little tight.’ Charlotte breathed in and looked at herself in the mirror, before sitting down again for Lily to put her hair in place. ‘I can’t possibly have anything to eat if I’m to dance tonight, this dress is so tight.’
‘You look beautiful, ma’am.’ Lily brushed and curled Charlotte’s hair, pinning each curl into place and watching as her mistress looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Mr Dawson is a lucky man, to have one so beautiful on his arm.’
‘Do you think so, Lily? I think I’m the lucky one. As you say, he is a handsome man – a handsome man with very good prospects. That’s what my father told me when he first met him.’ Charlotte smiled at the young lady’s maid as she stood back and admired her handi-work.
‘Quite rightly so, ma’am.’ Lily looked at her mistress’s reflection and smiled.
‘Time to face the music, Lily, in more ways than one.’ Charlotte stood up and reached for her fan on the dressing table. ‘Thank you, Lily. What would I do without you?’
‘You’d manage, ma’am, I’m sure.’
‘Some days I wonder, Lily, I really wonder.’ Charlotte made for the bedroom door, leaving the maid to tidy her room.
‘Father, I’m so glad you and Mrs Cranston have made it.’ Charlotte opened her arms to hug her father and then to hug Lucy Cranston.
Lucy blushed. ‘Do you think you should be doing that, Lottie? I’m only a cook.’
‘Nonsense. You were like a mother to me, and I’m not too proud to admit it.’ Charlotte noted Joseph’s disapproving stare and covered her face with her fan as she watched him meeting and greeting their guests.
‘So, what do you think? Poor Yates and Jethro took all day putting up those ivy-and-holly bowers and swags. If I heard one swear word, I heard twenty, when the holly pricked their arms and fingers. Don’t you think the red ribbons just add to the effect?’ Charlotte gazed around the hall and smiled as people nodded their heads in respect at her presence.
‘Aye, it’s grand, lass, and that fiddle player can fair play. We’ll have to have a dance, won’t we, Lucy, after we’ve had something to eat? We’ll not be stopping long, though. It’s threatening snow out there, and you know what a bugger it is to get back up to Crummock with snow on the ground.’
‘You could always stay the night – we’ve plenty of rooms. I’m sure Joseph wouldn’t mind. Let me ask him.’ Charlotte started to walk away.
‘Nay, don’t bother, lass; don’t go asking Joseph. We’ll keep an eye on the weather. I’d rather sleep in my own bed and be back at home in the morning. Besides, there’s Lucy here. He wouldn’t know where to put her, because he’s made it quite clear what he thinks about our . . . er . . . arrangement.’ Wesley put his arm round Lucy’s waist. ‘Where I go, she goes now. I might even get around to wedding her yet.’
‘Give over, and be careful what you say, Wesley. We are with gentry.’ Lucy blushed.
‘Gentry, my arse; they are all hypocrites! There’s old Cartwright over there, who runs the snuff mill at Settle – everyone knows he’s got a floozy at Giggleswick. And then there’s Bernard Baxter right there, talking to his wife – it’ll be the first time he’s had her on his arm for months; he’s usually occupied with the chambermaid at The Lion.’
‘Father, please, these are all Joseph’s friends.’ Charlotte fluttered her fan, aware that her husband was making his way over to them.
‘I was nobbut saying.’
‘Well, don’t,’ said Charlotte, before reaching her hand out for Joseph.
‘Are you enjoying your visit to us, Mrs Cranston?’ he enquired, to the blushing, flustered woman who stood next to his protective wife.
‘I am, thank you, sir,’ answered Mrs Cranston quickly, while thinking of the advice she had given her young ward about how to woo her handsome partner.
‘My cook has done wonders tonight; you must help yourselves at our table and enjoy the music. Charlotte has been busy all day organizing everyone – I’m surprised she isn’t quite worn out.’ Joseph raised his glass of wine to his lips and watched his wife as she averted her gaze.
‘I’m quite fine, thank you, my dear. I’m more concerned about the weather not being kind to our guests. My father says it looks like snow.’ Charlotte was trying to draw out an invitation for her father to stay the night, but it was not forthcoming.
‘We will have to be vigilant to nature’s wishes. I’ll ask Jethro to alert me, should we indeed get snow. I’m sure you would need to get home at the first snowflake. Crummock is such a remote farmstead.’ Joseph took another sip from his glass and looked at Mrs Cranston as she lowered her eyes. She knew all too well why they were not allowed to stay. ‘But now, let’s eat. I’ll go and ask Yates to announce dinner being served. It’s no good having a dog and then barking yourself.’
Charlotte felt embarrassed by her husband’s arrogance. How dare he make Mrs Cranston feel unwanted, and liken his butler to a dog.
‘Come, Father, you must try Mrs Batty’s cooked ham, it melts in the mouth; and the plum chutney she made from the fruit in the orchard just gives it that added tang. Sit next to me, Mrs Cranston, so you don’t have to make conversation with anyone you don’t know. I know how uncomfortable that can feel.’ Charlotte linked her arm through Lucy’s and led them to their seats at the table.
‘By, it’s a grand spread, Lottie. I expect my eyes are going to be bigger than my belly, there’s so much to eat.’ Wesley watched as Yates served him a steaming bowl of chicken broth. ‘Just what you need on a cold winter’s night. And then I will try a bit of that ham, our Lottie. It looks bloody good.’
Charlotte smiled. Her father loved his food, perhaps a little too much.
‘I shouldn’t have eaten all that ham, Lucy. By, have I got a pain right between my shoulder blades. It must be wind. And it hurts right into my chest.’ Wesley stopped mid-dance, bending double to catch his breath after doing an extra-fast jig.
‘You’re just a silly old bugger – you’re not sixteen any more.’ Lucy stood over him.
His red face looked up at his love and he grinned. ‘Aye, but we showed these young pups how it’s done, and I’ll do it again just once more, before I go and get the horse and trap. Just let me get my breath,’ puffed Wesley.
‘You silly old fool, you will not. Everybody has seen us cavorting around the floor. Even Lottie was embarrassed by us, and I saw Joseph mutter something under his breath.’
‘Aye, perhaps you are right – maybe we should call it a day. We could do with getting home. Let’s just sneak out. Our Lottie won’t miss us. Look, she’s talking to that po-faced, unhappy-looking housekeeper. By gum, this pain is bad. I hope that stable lad has harnessed my horse. I told him to about half an hour ago, when I went outside to see what the weather was doing.’ Wesley tried to straighten himself and winced as a pain as sharp as a needle went down his arm.
‘Let me help you. We are going home. We’ll sneak out the back door, then we won’t spoil Lottie’s night by making her aware that you aren’t well.’ Lucy grabbed his arm and walked with Wesley steadily through the long corridor to the back door of Windfell Manor.
‘Bugger, it’s starting to snow. But at least my horse and trap are ready.’ Wesley felt the cold air restrict his chest from breathing, and gasped as the snow-filled air bit into his lungs. ‘Bloody hell, lass, I’m
done for. I can’t breathe.’
‘Wesley, Wesley!’ Lucy shouted as he fell to the floor. ‘Wesley, what’s wrong?’ She bent down beside him as he fought for breath.
‘I’ll go and get Dr Burrows – he’s in the manor,’ said the stable boy as he stood over the elderly couple and realized that there was something wrong. He ran for help.
‘Wesley, can you hear me? There’s help coming, the lad’s gone for Dr Burrows.’ Lucy held her beloved’s hand; she could feel his pulse getting weaker by the minute as he struggled for breath. His breathing laboured, and then weakened to almost nothing.
‘I’m sorry, lass. I love you, you know that, don’t you? Take care of my Lottie, ’cause I know that I’m knackered,’ Wesley whispered with his dying breath, which was hardly audible to the sobbing Lucy.
‘Oh, Wesley, no. No, you silly old fool, you shouldn’t have danced like that.’ Mrs Cranston knelt on the granite chippings of the great driveway of Windfell Manor and cradled the true love of her life as tears fell down, mixing with the falling snowflakes onto the body of Wesley. ‘I loved you, you old fool, and we were going to be married. Why, why, why?’ She sobbed and cradled the dying man as Dr Burrows rushed out of the manor with a crowd of merrymakers behind him, all wondering what the fuss was about.
Dr Burrows bent down beside Lucy and felt for Wesley’s pulse on his neck. Realizing that he had arrived too late, he gently closed the man’s staring eyes. ‘I’m afraid he’s dead. A heart attack, by the look of those lips. I’m so sorry; he wasn’t a fit man.’
‘Father, Father, when are you going to learn to take it steady?’ Charlotte pushed her way through the crowd, believing that her father had simply over-exerted himself, as the stable boy had been overheard saying.
Dr Burrows stood up from the side of the grieving Lucy and put his arm around Charlotte. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but your father’s dead. There’s nothing we can do.’