A Mother's Courage

by Dilly Court

  The stew was delicious and Eloise ate ravenously. Her appetite had almost deserted her during the last few days in Cribb's Hall and she had forgotten what it was to enjoy a meal. Despite her anxiety about Beth, there was something so comforting and reassuring about Gladys that Eloise found herself relaxing just a little. Ada ate sparingly, but Joss pushed his plate away after the first mouthful and only toyed with a slice of bread and butter. Eloise reached out to feel his forehead and her heart did a back flip inside her chest. 'He feels very hot, Mrs Danby. I think he might be coming down with the sickness.'

  'Very probably, love,' Gladys said, mopping up the last of her soup with a hunk of bread. 'Better to get it over and done with in my opinion.' She glanced at Ada and frowned. 'I shouldn't be surprised if that one doesn't go down with it too.' Gladys lowered her voice. 'Just how is she related to the Braithwaites, Mrs Cribb?'

  'My name is Eloise, but my family call me Ellie, Mrs Danby.'

  'And you can call me Gladys. We don't stand on ceremony up here.' Gladys leaned across the table to give Ada an encouraging smile. 'Now you've finished your dinner, why don't you take the little lad outside into the yard and let him have a run round?'

  'All right,' Ada said reluctantly. 'Will you read me a story later, Ellie?'

  'Of course I will. We brought one of your favourite books with us, I believe.'

  Ada jumped to her feet. 'Yes, we did. I can read a bit of it, missis,' she added, addressing the remark to Gladys. 'Ellie is teaching me to read. Come on, Joss, let's go out and see the chickens.'

  When they had gone, Gladys poured tea from a brown china pot which had been brewing beneath a knitted tea cosy, and she passed a cup to Eloise. 'The men will be in for their dinner soon, lass. It might be a good idea if you told me what has been going on with you, and what brought you to this sorry pass. Not that I'm being nosy, mind you, not at all, but I cannot help you if I don't know what has driven you from your in-laws' home. I'm thinking it couldn't have gone too well for you at Cribb's Hall. Am I right?' It was a relief to unburden her soul to Gladys, and Eloise withheld nothing, even going so far as to tell her about Ada's sad history and her harsh treatment at the hands of her mother, Joan Braithwaite. Gladys listened in silence until Eloise had finished. 'Eh, lass. What a sorry tale to be sure. You know you're welcome to stay here with us as long as you want.'

  'Thank you,' Eloise murmured, blinking back tears. It was almost harder to take the kindness and generosity shown by Gladys than it was to bear the insults that she had endured from her mother-in-law and Joan. 'You're very kind, Gladys. But as soon as Beth recovers I must be on my way. I need to get back to London and find work so that I can support my children.'

  'And Ada, what about her? The poor soul is simple, that's plain to see. She would be more of a hindrance to you than a help.'

  'I know, but I cannot desert her. It would be like leaving a child to fend for itself.'

  Gladys tipped her teacup, swirling the leaves round in the bottom and staring intently at them. 'You say she were born in Bridlington?'

  'Yes, and she was raised to think that Joan was her cousin and not her mother. Poor Ada is still searching for her own baby, which was taken from her soon after its birth, although if she lived, the girl would be almost a woman by now. In fact, probably the same age as your daughter, Meg.'

  Gladys looked up with a startled expression. 'Oh, Meg's not my daughter, Ellie. When our youngest daughter got wed, I needed someone to help me about the house and in the dairy, and we got Meg from the orphanage. She were about eleven or twelve then, and would either have been sent into service or to work in a mill. There's many an unwanted child that suffers a similar fate. She calls me Mother, and we treat her as one of the family, but goodness knows who her parents were.'

  'Well, I think it must have been her lucky day when you took her into your home,' Eloise said, smiling. 'And I must go and relieve her so that she can get her dinner. Perhaps you could send Ada up with Joss when they come indoors. I wouldn't want them to get in the way.'

  Gladys put her teacup back on its saucer. 'They'll hardly be noticed. My Frank and the boys will see nothing but the food on their plates when they come in from the fields. You'll meet them later, but for now you go and tend to your babe.'

  Eloise rose from the table feeling much stronger and more positive now she had eaten. Acting on instinct, she bent down to drop a kiss on Gladys's wiry grey hair. 'You are so kind, and I am truly grateful to you.'

  Later that day, when the men came in for supper, Ada was sent upstairs to keep an eye on Beth while Eloise snatched a bite to eat. With obvious pride, Gladys introduced Eloise to her stalwart husband, Frank, a big, burly man with a kind smile and an easy-going manner. Then there was Reggie, their eldest son, who at thirty was still unmarried and rather bashful, but who exuded the same good humour and kindly nature as his parents. He was, so Gladys told Eloise in confidence, unofficially engaged to Maud Fosdyke, whose father owned the local ironmongery. They had been stepping out together for four years, and Maud was not getting any younger, but Reggie was a slow fellow and wouldn't be hurried. Then there was Jacob, his younger brother by a year, who was in contrast taciturn and disinclined to talk, seemingly more interested in his supper than in being agreeable to an uninvited house guest. Jacob was courting the miller's daughter, Gladys said with a beaming smile, and they would be married before the year was out. Two sons had not survived infancy, she admitted sadly, but her six daughters were all married and living close by. Between them they had already produced twelve children, with another two babies expected soon. Eloise could only envy this large, happy family, but their closeness made the separation from her own mother all the harder to bear, and as soon as she had eaten her meal of bread, cheese and pickles, washed down with farmhouse cider, she retired to her room to put Joss to bed in the cot that Reggie had hefted down from the attic.

  Ada was given a small box room at the end of the corridor, but she was scared to sleep alone in a strange house and she dragged her feather mattress and coverlet into Eloise's room, placing it on the floor in front of the hearth. With Joss settled in the cot and Ada lying by the fire, Eloise read them both a fairy story from Ada's favourite book, but after just a few pages she realised that they had both fallen asleep. Having reassured herself that Beth was no worse and that she too was sleeping peacefully, Eloise took her writing case from the valise and climbed into bed. She managed to write a few lines to her mother, but she could hardly keep her eyes open and she lay down to sleep.

  She was awakened in the night by a child crying and she sat bolt upright in the bed, staring into the faint glow of the fire as the embers turned into ash. For a moment she couldn't think where she was, or who was crying. Then it all came rushing back to her and she leaned over to examine Beth, but although she was still in the grip of the fever she was not making the noise. Eloise leapt out of bed as she realised that it was Joss who was wailing miserably. She snatched him out of his cot, and her worst fears were realised when she found that his little nightshirt was soaked with sweat and his body was burning up with fever. She lit a candle, and even in its pale light she could see that he was covered in a rash. She bathed his hot body with cool water from the washbowl, and finally she took him into her own bed, but he complained of earache and she spent the rest of the night walking the floor with him in her arms when the pain became too great for him to bear. His sobs eventually awakened Beth but Ada slept on, snoring loudly, while Eloise did her best to console her sick children. When the first light of dawn filtered through the lattice window, Eloise was exhausted and the children had fallen into a fitful sleep. Moving carefully so that she did not wake them, Eloise climbed out of bed. There were sounds of stirring in the house, and activity in the farmyard below. She could hear the clatter of milk pails and the swooshing sound of water being drawn from the pump, the lowing of cows in the milking parlour and the clarion call of the cockerel.

  She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and tipto
ed out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that she could hear the little ones if they should start to cry. Her bare feet made soft pattering sounds on the floorboards as she went down the stairs to the kitchen. She had hoped to find Gladys there but she stopped short when she saw Reggie sitting at the table drinking a mug of tea. He jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in his haste.

  'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' Eloise said, wrapping her shawl a little tighter around her body. Being seen in just her nightgown by a man who was neither her husband nor her father caused her cheeks to flame with embarrassment, but she could see that Reggie was just as uncomfortable. He righted the chair and stood behind it, staring down at his boots.

  'Er, morning, ma'am.'

  'I was looking for your mother,' Eloise said hastily. 'My little boy was taken ill in the night. I'm afraid he has the measles, and I wondered if someone could go for the doctor.'

  Reggie raised his eyes and his rugged features crumpled with concern. 'I'm right sorry to hear that, ma'am. I'll go for him myself.'

  'That's very kind of you, Reggie. I would be so much obliged if you would.'

  'I'll go right away.' Smiling shyly, he picked up his cap and jacket and made for the door, but he paused on the threshold. 'Ma's out collecting eggs, but I daresay as how she won't be long. Shall I tell her you want her?'

  'No, please don't disturb her. I can manage until the doctor comes.'

  He nodded his head briefly. 'Aye, well, there's tea in the pot. Help yourself, lass. I mean, ma'am.'

  'No, please. My name is Eloise, but my friends call me Ellie.'

  'Ellie. That's a pretty name,' Reggie said, flushing beneath his tan. 'I'd best go.'

  As he left the house, a blast of cold air pungent with the smell of the farmyard blew into the kitchen. Eloise poured a cup of tea for herself and one for Ada, which she laced with sugar and then took upstairs to her bedroom.

  When Dr Robinson arrived later that morning, he confirmed that Joss had measles, but that in his opinion it was just a mild attack. He examined Beth and to Eloise's intense relief he told her that the crisis was past. Beth was quite poorly, but there was no sign of complications and she should make a complete recovery, although there was no question of their being able to travel for a week at least. The little ones would need careful nursing, rest and nourishing food until they were completely restored to health. Eloise shook his hand warmly and thanked him profusely. Her relief was so great that she had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, but that would be an improper thing to do, and she thanked him once again. Slightly embarrassed, Dr Robinson refused to accept any payment, saying that Gladys had more than made up for his fee with newly laid eggs, a jug of cream and a pound of butter. He left the farm, promising to return in a couple of days' time to check up on his patients.

  The ensuing week was a much happier one for Eloise once she was certain that her children were on the road to recovery. Away from the stultifying atmosphere of Cribb's Hall and the constant carping and interference from Hilda and Joan, Eloise began to relax and to feel more like her old self. The open-handed kindness of the Danby family acted like balm to her soul. Frank said little, but when he spoke to Eloise she couldn't help noticing that he lowered his great booming voice to a whisper, bending his shaggy head and smiling gently at her, as if he was dealing with a highly strung thoroughbred filly. Jacob rarely spoke to her at all, but she took his silence for shyness rather than ill temper, and Reggie did everything he could in his clumsy, bumbling way to make her feel at home. Sometimes he brought her little posies of cowslips and sweet cicely, or a juicy apple from their winter store. He unearthed a slightly tatty rocking horse from the attic and carved a wooden boat out of a block of wood, both of which went a long way to keep Joss amused. Eloise wondered what Maud Fosdyke would have thought about all this, but at least she could honestly say that she had given him no encouragement. However, as the days went by Reggie's apparent fondness for her began to be a worry, and she raised the subject during a conversation with Gladys, who laughed and said that Reggie was a big soft-hearted marshmallow and that Maud was not the sort of woman to stand for any nonsense. Maud would sort him out.

  In some ways, Gladys reminded Eloise of her own mother, particularly by the way that she had taken them all under her wing like a mother hen with a brood of stray ducklings. In between her chores, Gladys took turns at sitting with the children, who in their convalescence were sometimes crotchety and difficult to amuse, but this allowed Eloise some time to herself. Ada was less clinging now, which also helped. She and Meg had formed an unlikely alliance. Despite the fact that Ada was old enough to be Meg's mother, they got on so well together that they were soon the best of friends. Meg took Ada with her wherever she went on the farm, allowing her to try her hand at milking and she taught her how to skim off the cream and to churn butter. This left Eloise free to take walks in the countryside, breathing in the sparkling clear air that was unpolluted by the stench of the city. Quite often, in fact too often to be written off as pure coincidence, Eloise came across Reggie during these walks. Sometimes he would apparently be walking in the same direction on some errand which was immediately forgotten as he fell into step beside her, and occasionally he would be driving the farm cart and would offer to take her up beside him while he drove to market, or visited the feed merchant. Even after such a short time, Eloise sensed that he was developing a genuine fondness for her. She found it touching and rather sweet, but she gave him no encouragement, hoping that he would forget about her when she had left the farm and return to Maud before she grew tired of waiting for him to pop the question and married someone else.

  Joss and Beth were recovering rapidly now, and Eloise planned to continue their journey to London as soon as Dr Robinson agreed that the children were well enough to travel. She knew she would have mixed feelings on leaving the farm, where she had met nothing but kindness, but she would not impose any longer than was absolutely necessary on the Danbys. She must return to London to find work and lodgings until her parents returned from Africa. It was as simple as that.

  Eloise was returning from her walk one afternoon with a large bunch of primroses in her hand, which she intended to give Gladys. The sun was shining and the hedgerows were alive with small rodents, insects and nesting birds. The white flowers of the blackthorn shone like tiny stars in the tangle of black branches and twigs. The damp earth, warmed by the spring sunshine, exuded a rich fruity smell and the woods were carpeted with sweetly scented bluebells. As she drew nearer to the farmyard, Eloise could see Dr Robinson's trap with his old cob waiting patiently between the shafts, occasionally pawing the cobblestones as if to remind his master of his presence. She quickened her step and almost bumped into Ada who was lolloping along in her gangly fashion, following Meg who was running on ahead and laughing wildly. For a split second, Eloise saw what appeared to be an incredible likeness, not so much of their features as the ungainly way in which they moved and their peals of childlike laughter. It was, of course, just her fancy and she pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she hurried into the house.

  She found Dr Robinson and Gladys sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and munching on slices of fruit cake. Joss was on the floor playing with a mongrel puppy and Beth was attempting to crawl, but was hindered by her long nightgown. Their swift recovery from what could have been a fatal illness seemed like a miracle to Eloise, and she smiled to see them looking so well and happy.

  'Ah, Mrs Cribb, good news,' Dr Robinson said, getting to his feet. 'Both Joss and Beth are doing so well that, in a day or two, you will be able to continue your journey without fear of prejudicing their recovery.'

  'That's wonderful,' Eloise said, smiling. 'Thank you so much, Dr Robinson. You've been so kind and I'm truly grateful.'

  He made a deprecating noise and shook his head. 'All in the line of duty, Mrs Cribb.'

  'Well, I for one am not happy,' Gladys said with a mock f
rown. 'For it means I shall have to say goodbye to my little ducks, and to Ellie, who has become almost like a daughter to me.'

  'I can never thank you enough, Gladys,' Eloise said, taking off her bonnet and shawl and hanging them on a wooden peg behind the door alongside the family's outdoor clothes. 'You have made us feel so much at home. I will miss you very much, but I must return to London.'

  'There is someone else who will be more than sorry to see you go, Ellie,' Gladys said with a knowing wink. 'I think our Reggie might have something to say to you, if the great lummox can find the right words, although what poor Maud will make of it, heaven only knows.'

  Dr Robinson picked up his top hat and gloves. 'I must be going. Thank you for the tea and cake, Gladys.' He turned to Eloise with a hint of a smile. 'I shan't need to call again, so I'll wish you good fortune and a safe journey back to London.'

  'Thank you, doctor. Thank you for everything.' Eloise stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his bewhiskered cheek.

  He looked slightly taken aback and a genuine smile lit his normally sombre grey eyes. 'You are a brave young woman, Mrs Cribb. It has been a privilege to know you.' As he went out through the door he was almost bowled over by Meg, closely followed by Ada. Both of them were dishevelled and giggling uncontrollably.

  Gladys leapt to her feet. 'Good heavens! Just look at the state of you two. What a pair indeed. Go back outside and clean the mud off your boots. You can wash your hands too before you come back in my nice clean kitchen.'