A Mother's Courage

by Dilly Court

  'I'm the boss,' Harcourt said blithely. 'I can afford to come in late if I choose. I don't do it very often because I believe an idle master makes idle servants, but today is an exception. I just wanted to tell you that from now on you must think of Cribb's Hall as your home.'

  'Thank you, but I'm not sure Mrs Cribb would agree with you. I think maybe it's too soon after losing Ronnie for her to take kindly to me.'

  'Nay, lass. You mustn't think that way. My Hilda can be a bit forthright at times, but she's a fine woman, and I'm sure she meant no harm. Some folks have difficulty in dealing with their loss, and Hilda thought the world of our Ronnie.' Eloise swallowed a mouthful of egg, wiping her lips on the starched white linen napkin. 'I'm sure you're right, sir.'

  'I know I am. Just give her time. I know it will be strange for you at first and you must miss your mother and father, but you'll soon settle in and adjust to our ways.'

  Eloise nodded, unable to speak. The mention of her parents had only added to her anguish, bringing the ready tears to her eyes. She struggled to regain her self-control. The last thing she wanted was to disgrace herself in front of this kindly man, who reminded her so much of Ronnie. Not that they looked alike – Ronnie had been tall and broad-shouldered with rugged good looks – but there was something in his father's smile and a light in his blue eyes that was a heartbreaking reminder of his son.

  Harcourt took a gold half-hunter watch from his waistcoat pocket. 'My goodness, look at the time. I must be going.' He stood up and laid Beth gently in Eloise's arms. 'Keep your chin up, lass. And don't let Joan bully you. She's not a bad old stick at heart, but you've got to stand up to her.' He bent down to ruffle Joss's curls. 'You be a good lad for your mother, young Ronald. One day, son, all this will be yours, and when you're older I'll teach you everything I know about the pie business. You'll grow up to be one of them kings of industry, young man, or my name isn't Harcourt Cribb.' There was a definite swagger in his step as he left the dining room.

  Eloise had listened to him with a leaden feeling in her stomach. So they were all in on the plot to turn Joss into a substitute for his father, even the kindly Harcourt. Ronnie had thwarted his father's plans for him to go into the wretched pie business, and unwittingly, and from no choice of her own, she had placed her young son in the family's power. A frightening glimpse of the future flashed before her eyes. Joss was not yet three, and yet his life was already being mapped out for him. Her hand shook as she held a cup of milk to his lips. The vision of her son being moulded into a pale replica of his grandfather was almost too much to bear. Suddenly her appetite deserted her and she pushed the plate of food away. As she wiped a smear of egg from Joss's face, Eloise grew even more determined to make her stand. No one was going to take her son from her. He was going to grow up to be his own man and she would fight to the death to protect him.

  She turned her head with a start as the door opened and Joan stalked into the dining room with an ominous frown on her face. 'The nursery is the correct place for feeding children,' she snapped. 'There'll be greasy fingerprints all over the best silk damask after this, mark my words. That material on the seats was imported especially from abroad and it cost a small fortune. It's not for the backsides and sticky fingers of little tykes like our Ronald. You should have waited in your room until you were told what to do, young lady.'

  Eloise rose slowly to her feet, controlling her temper with difficulty. 'What gives you the right to speak to me like this? I've done nothing to offend you, Miss Braithwaite.'

  'You took our Ronald from us, that's what you did. He were the apple of his mother's eye and you fair broke her heart.'

  'That's just not true. Ronnie left home to join the navy when he was little more than a boy. From what he told me he rarely ventured home, and now I can understand why.'

  'Your mother should have washed your mouth out with soap when you were young. How dare you use that tone to me?'

  'You leave my mother out of this. She is a wonderful woman and has never done anything wrong in her whole life.'

  Joan folded her arms across her flat chest and tossed her head. 'And she's gone away and left you to live off the charity of others. I don't call that the action of a wonderful mother.'

  Eloise put her arm around Joss as he began to whimper. 'You're frightening my boy. Leave us alone.' She pushed past Joan and led a sobbing Joss from the dining room.

  'That's right,' Joan called after her. 'Run away when you know you are losing the argument. I know your sort, Eloise Monkham. You don't deserve to bear the name of Cribb.'

  With Beth clutched in one arm, Eloise hoisted Joss onto her hip and she hurried across the hall and up the stairs. She was out of breath and very much out of sorts when she reached the relative sanctity of her room. Mabel had been in the process of making the bed and she looked up in alarm. 'Goodness, miss. What's wrong?'

  Eloise lowered Joss to the floor and subsided onto a chair by the fireplace, rocking Beth in her arms. Mabel had been generous with the coal and its blaze sent out a comforting warm glow. Outside the window the snow was falling in huge feathery flakes. In the distance, Eloise could see the snow-covered wolds stretching as far as the eye could see. She realised then that she was marooned here in this icy wilderness, and there was no hope of escape, at least until the weather improved.

  'Can I do anything, miss? Shall I fetch you a cup of tea, or summat?'

  Eloise looked up into Mabel's anxious face and she smiled. 'No, thank you. I'm all right.'

  'Let me hold the baby, miss. I know how. I've got six younger brothers and sisters at home and me older brother, Ted, is stable boy here. I daresay you met him last night. He usually goes out with Mr Riley, the coachman, since the old fellow's rheumatics play him up in winter something terrible.' Mabel held out her arms and Eloise allowed her to take Beth. Almost immediately her screams quietened and she gazed up at Mabel with apparent interest.

  'She likes you,' Eloise murmured, not knowing whether to be pleased or hurt by the way her baby daughter took to a stranger.

  'She's a little flower, that's what she is.'

  Joss seemed to sense his mother's distress and he climbed onto her lap. Smiling, Eloise dandled him on her knee, tickling his tummy which always made him chuckle. He obliged her with a deep belly laugh. 'You're such a good boy, Joss. And I won't allow them to shut you up in their horrid old nursery.'

  Mabel shifted Beth to her shoulder and rocked her gently, patting the baby's back with a gentle hand. 'They've had the maids scrubbing it from top to bottom, miss. It's not such a bad place really, and I've heard tell that's what the gentry do. Grand ladies give their children over to nursery maids the moment they're born.'

  'Well, I'm not a grand lady, and I've no intention of allowing strangers to bring up my children.'

  'If you don't mind me saying, miss, you won't have much choice in the matter. If Miss Braithwaite and the mistress want it that way, that's the way it shall be.'

  'We'll see,' Eloise said grimly. 'They might be able to bully the servants, but I won't stand for it.'

  'You're very brave, miss. I shouldn't like to cross Miss Braithwaite.' Mabel pulled up a stool and sat down at Eloise's side. 'It's common knowledge that she hasn't been the same since she was jilted at the altar. You won't let on that I told you, will you?'

  'No, certainly not.'

  Mabel glanced over her shoulder as if afraid that someone might overhear her words, and she lowered her voice. 'Well, it weren't exactly at the altar, but as good as. He were a right handsome devil, so our mum said, but it turned out that he already had a wife in Whitby, and they say he had another in York, although I can't say for certain. Miss Joan were a good-looking woman then, according to our mum, and she were all set up to inherit the butcher's shop when their father passed on.'

  Momentarily diverted from her own problems, Eloise was intrigued. 'Go on.'

  'Well, Miss Joan thought she was too good to work in the shop and so she stayed at home, but her sister, her that
's the mistress now, was not so proud. She served in their father's shop alongside Mr Cribb, who was only a butcher's boy then. When old man Braithwaite died of a heart attack all of a sudden like, Mr Cribb took over the business but he married Miss Hilda Braithwaite and not her sister Joan. They lived above the shop and Miss Joan went off sudden-like to stay with her aunt in Bridlington – to mend her broken heart, they say. Anyhow, the master made enough money to buy the shop off Miss Joan, and when she returned from Bridlington a few years later, the master built this fine house and she's been living here ever since.'

  The sound of footsteps outside the door made Mabel suddenly alert and she leapt to her feet. 'I'd best get on or I'll be for it.' She laid Beth back in her cradle before going to the door and peeping out. She turned to Eloise with a worried frown. 'I won't be a moment, miss. There's summat I must see to before I finish off in here.' She slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Eloise waited for a moment, half expecting Joan to erupt into her room and scold her for keeping a servant from her duties, but the sound of footsteps grew fainter and it seemed that Mabel had been called away. Eloise thought no more about it, or of Joan Braithwaite's personal tragedy that had blighted her life. She could feel little sympathy for a woman who had shown her nothing but hostility. Joss jiggled about on her knee, reminding her to play with him, and she obliged, but her mind was racing as she tried desperately to think of a way to escape from Cribb's Hall. She had no relations to whom she could appeal for shelter; both Mama and Papa had been only children and their cousins had either emigrated or were long dead. She had no money of her own, and no qualifications other than that of a reasonably good education.

  Gradually, lulled by the rocking movement and the warmth from the fire, Joss fell asleep in her arms. Eloise rose slowly to her feet and laid him in the middle of the bed, with pillows on either side to prevent him from rolling off and hurting himself. There was an old-fashioned escritoire placed beneath the window, and on further investigation she discovered a bottle of ink and a quill pen. She unpacked her leather writing case, which had been a twenty-first birthday present from Ronnie, and she settled down to compose a letter to her mother. The simple act of putting pen to paper brought Mama suddenly so close that Eloise felt her presence almost as if she were in the room. She wrote slowly and chose her words carefully. The harsh truth would only upset her mother and Eloise made light of her trials, omitting entirely the harsh way in which she had been received by her mother-in-law and Joan. She was so intent on her task that she did not hear the door open behind her.

  'So, I take it you are writing to your sainted mother.'

  The sound of Hilda's strident tones made Eloise jump and a large blot of ink splattered across the sheet of paper. She put the pen down, controlling the urge to snap back at her mother-in-law. Taking a deep breath she rose to her feet, facing Hilda with a defiant lift of her chin. 'Yes, ma'am. I was writing to inform her that we had arrived safely.'

  'And to complain of your treatment too, no doubt.'

  'No, ma'am. I would not want to distress my parents by telling them that I was an unwelcome guest in your home.'

  Hilda inclined her head slightly. 'You have that much backbone at least.' She went to sit in the chair by the fire. 'I admit that I was not best pleased when your father wrote informing us that you and the children would be coming to stay. He might be a man of God, but he assumed a great deal when he foisted you on us in our state of grief.'

  'I realise that it is very hard for you, Mother-in-law, as it is for me. I believe that we both loved Ronnie equally, and suffer a great deal from his loss.'

  Hilda's tight-lipped expression did not falter. Her eyes were like cold steel as she regarded Eloise with an unflinching stare. 'I'm a plain woman, Ellen. I speak my mind, and I am sure you would not want it any other way. I neither know you, nor do I care about you, but I do care about Ronald's children and I will do my duty by them. Young Ronald and Elizabeth will have the best of care and the finest education that our hard-earned money can buy. As Ronald's widow you have a right to stay in our home, but the children will be raised as we think fit. You may see them as much as you please, providing that you do not spoil them. They will have the upbringing suited to their situation in life.'

  Eloise gripped her hands together behind her back so that Hilda would not see how they trembled. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep the tears of anger and frustration at bay and she controlled her voice with difficulty. And what is that, pray?'

  'Don't take that hoity-toity tone with me. I know that you and your folk look down on us because we're in trade. Well, we might have made our brass from selling sausages and meat pies, but our fortune was gained through honest toil. Young Ronald and his sister will be looked after by a nanny until they are old enough to be sent away to school. Ronald will learn to be a gentleman as well as a man of business, and the girl will be educated like a proper young lady. You should be grateful to us, Ellen. We could have turned our backs on you, as your parents have done, but I know my duty. So long as you abide by my rules, you will get on well enough in this house. Go against me, and you will find out that Hilda Cribb can be a hard woman.'

  'I do not want my babies to be looked after by a nanny,' Eloise said through gritted teeth. 'I will not allow it.'

  Hilda rose majestically to her feet. 'You won't allow it? Listen to me, young lady. While you are living under my roof you will do as I say, and I say that the little ones will be raised in the nursery. Of course you will have to be there to feed the girl child, until she is weaned, and they will be brought down for an hour or so at teatime, just like they do in the best of houses. We have come up in the world, Ellen. Harcourt and I are no longer mere butchers, we are the new gentry, and we have standards. If you don't like it, you know where the door is, but Ronald's children stay here. Do I make myself plain?'

  It was all too plain, and Eloise soon discovered that she was powerless to prevent her mother-in-law from carrying out her wishes. A girl had been found in the village and next day she was ensconced in the nursery as the nanny, and the children were put into her care. No matter how much Eloise railed against the decision, no one paid her any attention. Even Harcourt brushed aside her complaints when she cornered him after supper that evening. He was not as brutal as his wife, but he put Eloise's anxiety down to nerves and the fact that it was not so long since she had given birth to Beth. He patted her on the arm and with a kindly smile told her that she would soon get used to it, and even enjoy the freedom that she would have with her babies cared for by another.

  By way of a slight concession, Eloise was allowed to have her possessions moved to a room adjacent to the nursery, and Hilda only sanctioned this for practical reasons as Beth could not yet go through the night without being fed. 'But,' she had added, having given way just an inch, 'you will not find the room as comfortable as the one you were given in the first place.'

  This was patently true, as Eloise found her belongings had been taken to a room half the size of the previous one, situated at the back of the house, overlooking the stable yard and outbuildings. There was a single bedstead with a plain white coverlet, a deal washstand, tallboy and a wheel back chair which would have been better suited to the kitchen than to a lady's bedroom. A rag rug by the bed was the only splash of colour on the brown linoleum which covered the floor. Eloise realised that she might have won the last battle but she was rapidly losing the war. Hilda might have appeared to have given way but in reality had consigned her daughter-in-law to a servant's room. However, that was the least of Eloise's worries. She cared for nothing as long as she was close to her babies, and she made herself as comfortable as possible in the austere surroundings of her new room. The one advantage was that she would be able to hear the children if they cried in the night, which was just as well as it turned out that the new nanny, a hefty country girl with a bovine expression and, Eloise suspected, very little between her ears, was an extremely heavy sleeper.
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  On the first night away from her children, Eloise had just only just fallen asleep when she was awakened by the sound of Beth's wailing. She leapt out of bed, not stopping to put on her wrap or even to snatch up a shawl, and she hurried into the nursery to find both children awake and sobbing. Nancy Thwaite was sound asleep, lying on her back and snoring. Eloise picked up the children and took them into her room. The fire had gone out and the room was bitterly cold. The curtains barely met in the middle of the window and the sashes rattled as the wind howled round the house, hurling handfuls of sleet at the glass. Eloise scrambled into the bed, holding the children close to her until their sobs quietened. Beth fed hungrily and Joss snuggled up against Eloise's side and was soon asleep.

  Eloise had intended to take the children back to the nursery, and she had certainly not meant to fall asleep, but she was awakened suddenly by someone shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find Nancy standing over her holding a lighted candle in her hand which was shaking so much that melted wax was dripping onto the coverlet. 'What's wrong?' Eloise roused herself with a feeling of panic, which subsided as soon as she realised that Beth was sleeping peacefully in the crook of her arm and Joss was breathing softly at her side. 'What's the matter, Nancy?'

  'I saw her, mistress. She were leaning over the cots. I thought she'd taken the babes.'

  Eloise could barely understand what she was saying, as Nancy's teeth were chattering together and she was shaking from head to foot. Eloise raised herself on her elbow, speaking softly so as not to frighten the children. 'As you see, they were with me. You must have been having a bad dream.'