by Gracie Hart
Chapter 3
‘Oh, my Lord, Victoria, there’s Miss Ellershaw coming up our pathway! She must have found something wrong with one of the dresses that I made for her, else why would she be here?’ Eliza quickly came away from the window and checked her hair in the mirror, looking around at the sparse room to check all was in its place. ‘You go out and play, only in the front garden, mind, don’t be going and playing in all the dust on the street with that Betsy from the end of the row.’
Eliza pushed Victoria towards the front door and opened it as soon as she heard the knock from Grace Ellershaw. ‘Oh, Miss Ellershaw, what a surprise, please do come in, Victoria was just on her way out to play.’
Victoria squeezed past the unexpected visitor, smelling her sweet perfume.
‘Victoria, remember your manners for Miss Ellershaw.’
Victoria stood out on the garden path and turned to look at the well-to-do woman dressed in expensive clothes.
Victoria smiled angelically. ‘Sorry, Miss Ellershaw, I was just about to go outside and play.’
Eliza ushered Grace Ellershaw into the front room, or the parlour, as she called it.
‘She’s such a sweet child. You have brought her up so well, Eliza. I hope that your sister appreciates it.’ Grace glanced around the room before she removed her gloves and stood gazing around her at the sparseness of the small room.
‘She does, Miss Ellershaw. She writes quite frequently to us both and promises Victoria that someday soon she will return to her and take her to New York. But until then, Victoria keeps me company and gives me a purpose in life.’
‘I’m sure she does, Eliza, but perhaps you would like a life of your own? Is there no man in your life? Or are you like me? Self-sufficient and not about to be told what to do by a husband.’ Grace smiled when she saw the worried look on Eliza’s face. ‘I beg your pardon, it is not for me to probe into your personal life. Perhaps I could tell you the reason for my visit over a cup of tea.’
‘I do apologise, it is me who is forgetting my manners. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Eliza’s stomach churned as she walked into the kitchen and laid the only tea tray she had with the two cups that looked the least chipped. What was Grace Ellershaw doing at her house and why all the questions?
‘There’s no need for a tray, I’ll drink it here.’ Eliza jumped and turned to see that Grace had followed her into the kitchen. ‘Don’t think you have to stand on ceremony just because I have arrived at your door. May I sit?’ She made herself comfortable in the Windsor chair next to the fire. ‘This is one of my father’s houses, isn’t it? I must say you keep it spotless, Eliza. He should have no complaints about your tenancy.’
‘Thank you, Miss Ellershaw, I’m just glad that he allows us to stay here. After all, these are really pit cottages.’ Having allowed the tea to brew, Eliza passed a tea cup to Grace.
‘The pit isn’t as busy as it used to be, the house would be standing empty if you were not in it. But don’t tell him I told you so. He thinks I know nothing of business. Business is for men only and not for the likes of us women, or so he thinks, which brings me nicely to why I am here.’ Grace took a sip of her tea. ‘My dear grandpapa has agreed to give me some money to set up my own business and I can think of nothing better than putting my money into a high-quality dressmaker. One of quality, with a designer who already has a small but loyal following but who needs assistance in growing her skills. Indeed, I have already secured a premise on Boar Lane in Leeds. It is the ideal position for the more affluent ladies of the district.’
‘So you will no longer be needing my skills, Miss Ellershaw? Is that what you have come to tell me?’ Eliza could barely control her feelings. Grace Ellershaw and her friends were her best customers; without them, she would not be able to survive.
‘Oh, Eliza, ye of little faith. It is the contrary, my dear. I need you to be my designer, to help me run the shop. Who else would I ask? Why, you are quite the talk of my ladies’ circle. I’m sure with the right materials and better facilities your work and designs will be worn by all the best-dressed ladies in Leeds. So, my dear, will you join me in my venture? The details I will work out with you once you have agreed.’ Grace smiled at the look of disbelief on her dressmaker’s face, it would be good to support and help someone who did her best, instead of feeling sorry for her lot in life.
‘I don’t know what to say! Surely you can’t think I’m worthy of all that? I’m just a seamstress that tries to make a living with what she’s got.’ Eliza could hardly hold back her tears.
‘You are much more than that. Given a chance you can make your own way in life and make me some money. So don’t think I’m doing this out of kindness, I expect a good return on my investment. However, in return, both you and the beautiful Victoria will gain much, a better home and respect in the community. In fact, if things work out well, perhaps you could become my business partner. Although we would have to keep that from my family. They wouldn’t understand, and might make things unnecessarily difficult for us both.’ Grace smiled. She was giving Eliza a leg up in life and she knew that she could not say no to her offer. ‘To us, Eliza. Let’s show Leeds how it is really done.’
Sarah Parker, Eliza and Victoria’s next-door neighbour, was living up to her name as a true nosy parker as she beckoned Victoria to come to her. ‘Victoria, Victoria, come here, child, I need to speak to you. Now, just you take these to your aunt. They’re still warm, I made them this morning and I thought I’d make enough for you both as well as for ourselves. With some dripping on, they will feed you this dinner time.’ Sarah Parker thrust two warm barm-baps wrapped up in a red-spotted handkerchief into Victoria’s hands. ‘Is your aunt all right? Does she know you are out playing on the street by yourself? I think she’ll have something to say when she sees the state you’re in, what have you been doing to get your apron so dirty? Did my eyes deceive me or was that Grace Ellershaw that’s just walked into your house?’
Victoria didn’t really want to reply to her nosy neighbour. Although thankful for her gift, she knew it had been a means to find out the latest gossip. ‘Miss Ellershaw is here. Aunt Eliza said I had to play in the front while they spoke, but I don’t know what about.’
‘Never mind, it’ll be something or nothing, I’m sure. Aye, child, you look so angelic, even though you are as mucky as my hearth. That curly black hair and dark eyes could win any soul over, it’s a pity your mother can’t see you. She doesn’t know what she’s missing watching you grow up, her and her fancy man, she should never have left. Now, go on take them home and don’t drop them.’
Sarah Parker watched as Victoria ran up her garden path. She shook her head as she closed the door behind her – she loved the poor little lass. It had been a shame her mother had abandoned her, but at least she was being brought up by her aunt the best she could. It was hard on them both, but Eliza was not short of love for her niece and was doing her best given the circumstances. But what was Grace Ellershaw doing there? That she would have to find out.
‘Oh, Victoria, how have you got so dirty in such a short time? I told you not to play out on the street, and what have you got in that handkerchief?’ Eliza looked up from her conversation with Grace Ellershaw as Victoria came running down the hallway with something wrapped in a red-spotted handkerchief in her hands. ‘I bet it’s next door we have to thank for whatever is within. She’ll have seen that we have a visitor and want to know why.’
Victoria nodded her head and passed the precious baps over to her aunt, while she stared silently at their visitor. She smelled so sweet and was dressed so differently to her aunt. Even though she had met her several times before, Victoria was slightly in awe of Miss Ellershaw.
‘Come here, and let’s wipe your face and hands and take that apron off, else Miss Ellershaw will think you’re a filthy street urchin.’ Eliza put the handkerchief containing the bread baps onto the table and lifted Victoria onto the wooden draining board of the sink and wiped her niece
’s face roughly with a tea towel. ‘There, that looks better. Miss Ellershaw can see what you look like now.’
‘She’s beautiful, Eliza, you should be proud of her and your sister should be grateful that she is in safe hands. Hopefully, my offer to you will make both your lives easier and you will not need the charity of neighbours for much longer.’ Grace Ellershaw smiled as she looked at the young innocent girl sitting by the sink and staring at her.
‘I can’t thank you enough for your offer of the position in your new shop, I don’t deserve it.’ Eliza tried to hold back her tears. It had been so hard bringing Victoria up without her sister’s help, and now Grace Ellershaw had decided to back her designs and get her out of the little lean-to that she had tried to run a business from for so long.
‘Nonsense, all my friends love your dresses. Besides, Victoria here deserves a better life, which you will be able to give her if I have my way.’ Grace leaned over as she stood up and kissed Victoria on her now clean cheek.
‘You enjoy your bread while it’s warm, little one, and your aunt and I will talk more next week. Don’t get up, Eliza, I’ll see myself out. I’m sure you have a lot to think about.’ Grace smiled as Victoria reached for her bun.
‘No, no, please, let me.’ Eliza stood Victoria on the stone flags of the kitchen and rushed to open the front door to her benefactor and say goodbye, nearly crying as she closed the door behind her.
‘Oh, Victoria, God has sent us an angel today. If we are lucky we’ll never have to rely on next door’s charity again!’ Eliza scooped Victoria up into her arms and sobbed as she held her niece tightly to her.
‘I sometimes think my mama is an angel,’ Victoria whispered. ‘Perhaps she will come back for me one day. Why don’t I have a father? Everyone has a father. And what is a fancy man?’
‘My darling, Grace Ellershaw has done more for us today than your mother could ever hope to do. But your mother loves you, no matter that she has not kept her promise to return to you as yet. Don’t you ever forget that, my darling. And everyone has a father, yours is just a secret, a secret that one day your mother will tell you of, I’m sure. As for a fancy man, it’s nothing for you to worry about but I can guess where you’ve heard the word being said.’
Eliza kissed her innocent ward and wiped away her own tears. She sat back in the Windsor chair next to the fire and watched as Victoria ate her precious barm-bap and vowed that with Grace’s help she would always feed the child and school her as well as she could, regardless of her true parentage. It was the start of a new life and she was going to embrace it with arms outstretched.
Chapter 4
Four years later: New York, 1870
Mary-Anne stood at the stern of the steamship RMS Oceanic and looked back towards the mighty city of New York. She pulled her fur coat tight and shivered as she watched the ebb of waters flowing past her. She was finally leaving the shores of America to return home to England.
‘Are you all right, madam? Is there anything I can help you with?’ The steward smiled as he carried out the orders he had been given to make sure that the passengers in the saloon class were well looked after.
‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ Mary-Anne dismissed him quickly. She was anything but fine, but she could hardly burden him with her troubles. He wouldn’t care, after all. If anyone was to look at her in her fur coat and fine clothes, they’d think she had everything that most people wanted out of life. Little did they know that everything she wore was stolen, along with the money for her passage.
She leaned over the deck railings, looking down into the grey swirling depths, and then turned to watch the bustling crew as they hoisted the sails making ready for open sea, where the steam engine would need to be aided by sail power. She smiled as she heard the jovial voices of the steerage passengers two decks below her. Some would be returning home to their families, while others would be looking for another new start in Liverpool after failing to put down roots in the so-called great new land of America.
America had, at first, been exciting and new but then life had become just as hard as it had been in England and she’d had to live on her wits in the bustling city, just like she had at home. That, along with John’s drinking and involvement in politics, had finally convinced her she needed to return home, to be with her daughter, Victoria. The daughter she had not seen since she was a baby, some twelve years ago. Where had those years gone? She’d promised ever since she had left that she would return to bring her daughter to America, but one year had turned to two, three and more, and before she knew it the child was growing up with her sister Eliza tending to her every need.
A cheer went up from the decks below as the great ship passed Bedloe Island. The island was known as the gateway to America. It had been in the newspapers of late as a French intellectual proposed that the island should have a statue representing liberty built upon it as a celebration of independence and the friendship with France since the Civil War. No doubt it would be built, anything could be built or done in America if you had enough money or the right contacts.
She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. Had it really been twelve years since she and John had left Leeds to start afresh somewhere new? They had both been fleeing from their pasts but little did they know then that their new life would not be full of the dreams that they’d hatched together on their turbulent crossing to a new land. Little did they know that even in America, you had to work just as hard and be even cannier with money and your choices.
She sighed. Poor John. She had loved him once, and could put up with his radical views, but not his fists. During the Civil War that had ripped their new homeland in two, John had just put his head down, knowing that one man on his own could not stop the war. He also had escaped conscription, not wanting to take part in someone else’s war while waging his own fight for Ireland in his head. But as depression was starting to build up in the country, he once again had felt the need to stand up for his fellow countryman, as Protestant gangs fought with Catholic gangs in the working-class area that they lived in. Inevitably, he’d end up in a brawl, which he’d then take out on Mary-Anne when he came home, though always to his shame the following morning.
Last week the neighbours had run for the police to come quickly when they had heard John threatening Mary-Anne and had worried for her life. On their arrival, the police had taken John away, locking him up in the cells to cool down and leaving Mary-Anne alone with her thoughts. It was in despair of her plight, sitting alone in their rooms in the tenement house on Orchard Street after a hard day working at Lord and Taylor on 20th Street, that she had decided to leave the man she had supported for so long and return home. After all, she was worse off than she had ever been at her original home of Woodlesford. She was living in a tiny two-roomed apartment, with all of the rest of the world’s unwanted people as neighbours, sewing night and day to just to keep a roof over their heads and to keep John out of trouble. She just had to get away.
Mary-Anne felt her heart flutter as she remembered stealing the clothes that she was now wearing from her employer along with the week’s takings that she had been entrusted to bank on her way home. She had enjoyed her work there. It had been exciting working for the stars of Broadway, even though customers could sometimes be temperamental and highly strung and the hours long. She took a sharp breath as a pang of guilt came over her. Mr Lord had been exceptionally kind to her. He had put a lot of trust in her when many would not have given her time of day. However, what was done was done, and there was no turning back, she thought as the winds that were carrying her back to England caressed her face.
She was a tougher, more knowledgeable woman now, and had a burning desire to do better in life. And then there was the matter of the abusive mine owner Edmund Ellershaw. Twelve years away from his ugly face and lecherous ways had not lessoned her loathing of him – instead it had given her time to dwell on the matter of Victoria’s birth. She was now strong enough to confront him and demand some support from the
bastard, and that was even more reason for her to return home. To get even with the man who had ruined her and her mother in turn. Now it was his turn to pay. She smiled as a handsome young man that had been watching the departure from America just like her, caught her eye.
‘Are you going home or just visiting Liverpool?’ Mary-Anne enquired, noticing her fellow passenger’s finely made clothes and sleek appearance. He certainly looked wealthy.
‘I’m going on business to Liverpool and then on to Leeds. I’m in the wool trade and I’m to visit our British suppliers.’ The young man looked at the auburn-haired beauty that stood in front of him and thought her a little forward as she made eyes at him.
‘Ah, that is a coincidence, I too am on my way to Leeds. My sister is a top-class dressmaker with a shop on the corner of Boars Lane. You must call in and purchase something for the lady in your life. I can assure you it will be of the best quality.’
‘I would indeed, if I had a love in my life. But, unfortunately, my life is too busy for me to have anyone waiting for me at home. They would never be able to expect more of me than a few fleeting moments a week before I moved on to my next trader to visit.’ The man smiled at Mary-Anne.
‘That is truly a shame, Mr err …’ Mary-Anne looked at her fellow passenger and waited for his reply.
‘Ashwell. Mark Ashwell, and you are?’ Mark Ashwell could not help but notice the rich clothes that adorned the woman’s most attractive figure.
‘Mary-Anne, Mary-Anne Vasey. I’m travelling to Liverpool and then on to Leeds to appear onstage at the newly opened Thornton’s Music Hall.’ Mary-Anne held her right hand out to the young man to shake and looked coyly at him. She wished that she had removed the wedding ring from her hand but she could pass herself off as a widow in the music hall as easily as a single woman. The ring was a cheap thing John had once bought her as a promise, but it had proved empty like most of his – he had never made an honest woman of her. And there was safety in pretending to be someone else – she’d blown most of her money on a saloon-class ticket, thinking it a better place to hide in her stolen finery, especially if Mary-Anne Wild would soon be wanted for theft. She’d heard enough theatre talk from her customers over the years to be able to fake an alternative career.