Yet he made her feel all weak and feeble. Livia did her best to rally. ‘When do you go?’
‘Today. I’m catching the two o’clock train. Don’t worry, I won’t be away long, a week or two at most.’
‘A week or two!’ Livia swallowed, desperately damping down a growing feeling of panic.
He pulled a face. ‘A month at most. Will you miss me?’
A month could well be too late. But how could she tell him of her suspicions? If what she feared turned out to be true, it wouldn’t be his responsibility. Livia certainly wasn’t about to foist another man’s child upon him.
‘Can’t it wait till next month?’ she begged, but he only chuckled at her apparent neediness, enveloping her in his arms in a crushing embrace that filled Livia with a sad ache, as if she knew instinctively this would be the last time he held her in this way.
‘I’m delighted to see that you will indeed miss me, but maybe a week or two apart will give us both the space and time we need to think things through with regards to these other commitments of yours.’
He meant Jack, of course, but it was more than time and space she needed. It was a miracle.
It proved to be the longest two weeks Livia had ever experienced in her life as she waited daily for some sign that her fears were unfounded, for her normal courses to start again. She longed for Matthew to write and tell her how much he missed her and needed to make her his own. But wouldn’t that put her in a worse quandary? She couldn’t possibly accept him now, even if he did ask her to marry him.
How could this have happened to her? She and Jack hadn’t even been particularly close of late. And then Livia recalled the day they’d moved into the cottage and Jack had announced that he’d lost his job. He’d frightened her with his temper, they’d rowed, and then she’d felt so sorry for him she’d let him make love to her even though she hadn’t been in the mood. Nor properly prepared, obviously.
How very careless of her!
When a letter finally came from Matthew, it told her only that he’d been delayed and couldn’t rightly say when he might be returning. He was sorry but it might not be for a month or more as there were unexpected problems to be dealt with at the mill in Halifax.
Livia knew then that she’d made a complete fool of herself. He didn’t need her at all, didn’t miss her, didn’t love her, wanted her only in his bed for an affair. No doubt he agreed with his mother that she was a woman of low morals. That had been her attraction for him. He saw her as possible mistress material, nothing more. Someone to have a fling with, not settle down and devote the rest of his life to. Livia choked back the tears, hating herself for being so stupid, so trusting, so naïve.
Worse, she knew for certain now that her fears were absolutely correct. She was indeed pregnant and time was running out fast. When, a few days later, Jack again begged her to name the day and marry him, she found herself confessing the truth.
‘I think I may have to. I believe I’m expecting.’
His face lit up. ‘Oh Livvy, that’s wonderful.’ Picking her up in a great bear hug, he swung her round, kissing her delightedly, and then set her down with elaborate care. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t do that, should I?’
Livia laughed. ‘It’s all right, I won’t break.’ Oh, but she could. Her heart was already broken in two. It was all her own fault that she’d got into this pickle, yet she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of regret. She must no longer think of what might have been with Matthew Grayson. And when Jack got down on one knee this time and made a great show of proposing, she kissed him and laughingly accepted. This would be a new beginning for them both. She must put the past behind her and concentrate on the future, as she had done many times before.
Chapter Sixteen
It had been a long, bitterly cold winter in Kentmere, and as the green shoots of spring finally appeared on the hawthorn, and wild daffodils and cow parsley clotted the hedgerows, Ella began to dream with relief of warmer days ahead. She couldn’t ever remember feeling more tired and weary, partly due to the heavy load she was carrying around with her. She was so big, even though she still had a full month to go, and truly felt like a beached whale. Tilda and Emmet were excited at the prospect of a new brother or sister, and even their older sister Mary was surprisingly supportive, although as she was in service and only came home on Sunday afternoons to see her father and stepmother, she wouldn’t be so affected by a new arrival as her younger siblings. Ella missed Mary, as the older girl was good company and would have been much more useful about the house than her own sister.
Mercy was becoming increasingly difficult. Learning that Ella was pregnant had done little to lighten her black moods. Almost the reverse. She would obstinately refuse to answer if Ella spoke to her or asked a question, and was never around when needed. Yet if Amos should ask her to do something, she’d carry out the task with alacrity, smiling and chatting to him quite openly.
The girl spent a great deal of time hanging around the farmyard flirting with Tom Mounsey instead of churning the butter or scrubbing the dairy as she ought to. All of this meant that the greater share of the work fell on Ella’s shoulders, despite her advanced pregnancy.
Amos, on the other hand, couldn’t do enough for his beloved wife. He would constantly fuss over her, bringing cushions and cups of tea, chiding her for working too hard, and insisting she rest more. ‘You need to take it easy,’ he warned, and Ella would laugh.
‘How can I when there’s so much work to be done? On top of all the washing and ironing, cooking and preserving, feeding the calves and working in the dairy, the yard needs sweeping and the kitchen floor needs scrubbing.’
‘Mercy can do all of that, can’t you, girl? You must put your feet up every afternoon at least.’
Mercy would smile and nod, and then the moment his back was turned she’d quietly slip away, knowing that Ella would soon grow tired of calling or searching for her and do the job herself.
One morning Ella took it into her head to turn out the kitchen cupboards. ‘Put the jars of preserves at one end of the kitchen table, Mercy, then the dry goods next to them. That should leave plenty of space to stack the plates and crockery, and other bits and pieces at this end. When all the cupboards are empty we’ll give them a good scrub out with washing soda. Don’t forget to stoke up the boiler, we’ll need lots of hot water for that job.’
Mercy mumbled something as she reluctantly set to, feeling very hard done by. This was clearly going to be a long morning and she’d hoped to get away early today as Tom had promised to show her a badger’s set in the woods. Not that she was at all interested in badgers, but if George saw her going off with Tom, it might make her neglectful husband sit up and take notice.
The task did indeed take far longer than Ella expected as the cupboards were full of the detritus of decades of family life and neglect. Some dusty, unidentifiable objects looked as if they’d been there for a century or more.
‘Whatever it is, it needs to be in a museum not my kitchen cupboard,’ Ella laughingly remarked as she examined some sort of roller with cog wheels and a wooden slide with a sharp blade. ‘Is it for grating cheese do you think, Mercy, or chopping onions?’
‘Maybe it’s a Victorian mouse trap.’
‘Oh, don’t! Not in my kitchen cupboard. The very idea.’
Ella was enjoying herself hugely. Contentment flowed through her as sweet as wine. Never would she have imagined finding such happiness in this most mundane task. Once she’d found pleasure only in wearing pretty dresses, dancing, and showing off. Now her dreams were of babies, of making a good dinner for her man when he came home tired at the end of a working day, and loving him each night in the privacy of their bedroom.
Amos and George always ate their midday meal out in the fields so they didn’t need to trek what could be miles to and from the farmhouse. Ella cut ham sandwiches for herself and Mercy, and obediently put her feet up on a stool while she ate it.
‘Have you thought of starting a family?�
�� Ella asked, curious to know what sort of future her half-sister planned.
Mercy made a scoffing sound in her throat. ‘Me, have a babby? Nay, I don’t reckon that’s on the cards.’
‘Why not? You had a loving mother yourself. Wouldn’t you like a daughter of your own?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing.’ Mercy thought of the few occasions George and she had made love recently, an event which was becoming pitifully rare, and felt her resentment burn fiercer than ever. ‘Some of us don’t have your good fortune to be able to pick and choose. I doubt we could afford another mouth to feed.’
‘Oh Mercy, don’t be silly. We’d never see a child of yours go hungry. We’re one big happy family.’ Ella smiled. She kept hoping these little chats might serve to bring the two of them closer, so far with little success. ‘Goodness, my back aches. It’s all that stretching up to the top shelves of those cupboards. The crockery will have to be washed before we put it back, Mercy dear. Fortunately there’s some of that lamb stew left in the larder, so no cooking today, but we must have that table cleared before dinner. Will you make a start while I just close my eyes for ten minutes?’
Mercy sat smouldering with bitter resentment as Ella’s eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. So madam got to have a nap while she was sent back to work! Furious at this perceived injustice, she carried the tray back into the kitchen, slapped it down by the sink then softly let herself out of the house.
When Ella woke she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner and saw to her horror that she’d been asleep for a full hour. ‘Oh my goodness, look at the time.’ She pulled herself stiffly from the chair, wincing slightly at another jab of pain in her back. She felt so cumbersome and unwieldy. ‘Mercy, how are you getting on? Is the crockery all washed and dried?’
Mercy wasn’t in the kitchen, and Ella saw at once that not a single cup or plate had been washed. Cupboard doors stood open and the table was still cluttered with food stuffs, bread and cake bins, crockery and earthenware, dishes, plates, teacups and saucers, sieve and colanders, spoons and rolling pins, and a hundred other items which were normally stowed tidily away in the big kitchen cupboards.
Ella groaned. Where had the girl disappeared to now? What a menace she was. Annoyed with herself for falling asleep as much as with her half-sister’s idleness, she flung open the kitchen door and yelled across the yard.
‘Mercy, come here this minute. There’s work to be done.’
Silence. A cat rolled over in a patch of sun to blink sleepily up at her, but nothing else stirred. Even the dogs were with Amos out on the hills. With the lambing season underway, he was constantly checking that the ewes were all well.
Taking the water pail to the boiler Ella wearily began to draw water, only to find that it had gone out and the water was cold. Obviously Mercy had forgotten to stoke it up, but then in fairness, so had she, sleeping instead of working. Oh, if only Mercy had got on with the washing up, as instructed, she would have noticed and done something about it sooner.
‘Drat the girl. She really needs a good talking to.’
It took twice as long to boil the water on the stove, and another hour standing at the big stone sink washing all the crockery, still with no sign of the miscreant.
‘Right, I just have to put everything back and we’re done,’ Ella told the cat, who was now sitting by the door, hopeful of a saucer of milk. Smiling, Ella set one down for her. Even the cat was having kittens and not troubling to go hunting as much as normal. ‘What a fecund lot we are at Todd Farm,’ she chuckled, scratching the tabby’s ear and making her purr with pleasure.
Ella stacked the crockery onto several small trays, then lifted one and carried it over to the pot cupboard. It was as she climbed up onto the kitchen stool, tray in hand, that it happened. A wave of dizziness seemed to come over her, the ache in her back suddenly intensified under the weight of the heavy tray, or perhaps the soles of her shoes were slippy from the water that had dripped onto the kitchen floor. Whatever the reason, one minute she was starting to unload the tray onto the first shelf, the next it was flying out of her hands, cups and plates tumbling everywhere as Ella slid awkwardly down the steps and fell to the floor.
How long she lay among the shards of broken crockery Ella could never afterwards remember. It was Amos who discovered her when he fortunately came home earlier than usual because he wanted to check on how she was. For the first time Ella welcomed his fussing. He hugged her and kissed her, and gently helped her to a chair, asking if she was all right, if she hurt anywhere. He scolded her, too, and sent George scurrying for the doctor. ‘Bring him back with you. This is an emergency. She could lose the child.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Amos,’ Ella cried. ‘Pray for me. Please don’t let me lose the baby.’
Tears were rolling down her cheeks but Amos again turned to shout after George’s retreating figure as the young man raced to the stable for his horse. ‘And if you see that useless wife of yours, tell her I want to see her right away. Now!’
By the time Mercy appeared late in the afternoon, the doctor had already seen his patient, checked her over most thoroughly and ordered complete bed-rest. He departed with dire words of warning that next time Ella might not be so lucky if she didn’t heed his advice and get plenty of rest.
‘How was I to know that she’d start doing the job by herself?’ Mercy grumbled by way of defence, her lower lip falling into its familiar pout.
Amos was not so easily beguiled by feminine charm. ‘You should have been here with her, helping. Where were you?’
Mercy’s eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t meant anything dreadful to happen to Ella, only to stand up for her own rights. ‘I just went for a bit of a walk, that’s all. I’m surely entitled to an hour or two off? It’s not fair. I can’t be with her all the time. It’s not my fault.’
There was some justice in what she said, even so Amos refused to be mollified when he thought of what might have happened, and now was not the moment to scold his wife. ‘You promised me that you’d make sure she didn’t overdo things.’
‘I’m not her flippin’ minder,’ and sticking her head in the air Mercy made to march off, but Amos was too quick for her. Grabbing her arm he gave the girl a little shake.
‘While you live under my roof and eat the food at my table, you’ll do your bit to help. Yes, you can take a walk now and then, but only when there’s someone else around: Tom or George or myself. My wife is not to be left alone. Ever! Do I make myself clear?’
Mercy managed to jerk her head in what might pass for agreement, but Amos said again, ‘She is never to be left alone. This is a remote dale miles from anywhere. We must all look after her during this vulnerable time. We don’t want any accidents. Do you understand?’ And when Mercy again only nodded and pouted, ‘Well?’
‘Yes, yes, I understand.’
‘Good, now you will need to take good care of her while she’s laid up. Fetch her meals on a tray, help her to wash and visit the privy. You will nurse your sister well, Mercy, and live up to your name for once.’
Mercy’s cheeks flared bright pink, resentment burning hot and fierce in her breast. Why was she always blamed for everything? Why was it her fault if Ella was so stupid as to climb on a kitchen stool and then fall off? How she hated this place. If it weren’t for George, she’d walk out this very minute and never look back.
* * *
Ella did not enjoy being confined to her bed for one day let alone for a week or more, although she’d accepted the gentle telling off she got from Amos with good grace. It had been foolish of her to start that task on her own. She should have waited for Mercy to return, or gone looking for the girl. If only she’d been born with Livia’s patience and caring qualities. She might not be quite the empty-headed, selfish person she’d once been, but Ella knew she still had to learn to think things through properly, and see consequences before disaster fell about her ears. Nor did she have her sister’s skill at understanding people. Livi
a had visited the farm a number of times during the course of the winter and spoken to Mercy on each occasion, although she might well have spared herself the trouble for all the good it did.
Ella still didn’t feel able to cope with the girl at all well. Maybe it would be better if she got a job at the store instead of here on the farm, which she clearly hated. Except that George loved it, and wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else, and Mercy would never leave her beloved George. Oh dear, what a muddle!
Amos had put a tiny hand-bell by the bed for her to ring whenever she needed anything. Now, feeling hungry and knowing that the men had already taken breakfast and gone back to work, she rang it.
‘I think I could manage a little porridge if you’d be so good as to fetch me some,’ Ella told Mercy when she finally answered the summons. ‘With a little honey, if you please.’
When the dish was brought to her a good half an hour later, no jar was set on the tray. ‘I specifically asked for honey, yet you’ve not brought any.’ Ella tasted a mouthful of the porridge. ‘Ugh, it’s salty!’
‘Oh, sorry!’ Mercy gave a careless shrug. ‘I thought you liked it done that way. We always had it salted in the workhouse.’
Ella stifled a sigh. ‘This isn’t the workhouse, Mercy. We can afford honey, and you know very well I have a sweet tooth. Please take this porridge away and bring me a fresh portion.’
‘Oh, but I salted the whole pan. Sorry.’
She didn’t look sorry at all, rather there was a gleam of triumph in the turquoise blue eyes. Through gritted teeth Ella strived to hold on to her rapidly diminishing patience. ‘Then you will have to make some more.’
The girl’s face fell. ‘But it takes ages to make porridge, and the oats won’t have been soaked, and I still have to clean the milking parlour and see to the dairy. I can’t do everything on me own, can I?’
Angels at War Page 16