by Gracie Hart
Ruby led William upstairs to their bedroom where he made himself comfortable in the cushioned dimly lit room and reached for the pipe of opium that Ruby had placed there for his pleasure. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the Oriental poppy envelop his senses, calming him and making him ready for the pleasure that Ruby was going to bring him. He laid back and smiled as Ruby, her body now only partly clothed and her long dark hair hanging down over her naked breasts, knelt down and started to undress him. She was good. Her hands knew exactly what to do, how to arouse him and make him feel like the man he knew he was. Gone were the thoughts of Priscilla and the worries of his work as Ruby brought him to a climax the way only she could. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure of Ruby and the opium and felt reassured that he was William Ellershaw and everything he desired was his for the moment, albeit devoid of anything that could be called love.
Chapter 6
Eliza Wild watched her niece, the pride of her life, put pen to paper as the early morning sun beamed in through the bay-fronted window of their home at Aireville Mansions.
Victoria raised her head and looked at her aunt who had been more mother to her than her own since the day she had been born. ‘I find it hard, Aunt Eliza, I don’t know what to say some weeks. I wish I could meet her to know what she is like, even what she looks like.’
‘One day, she will send for you, she promised, and you know that she loves you, she’s always telling you so in her letters.’ Eliza ran her hand over her niece’s shoulders and sighed. While Mary-Anne’s letters to her daughter were always full of good news and promises, she had been more truthful to Eliza. Life in America had not lived up to expectations and Mary-Anne regretted throwing her lot in with John Vasey. The rich lifestyle they had both desired never appeared, leaving Eliza to bring up Mary-Anne’s daughter alone, and with hardly any payment from her absent mother to do so. Thank the gods that she had managed to better their prospects with help from Grace Ellershaw.
‘Am I like her, Aunt Eliza?’ Victoria put her pen down. She remembered when she and Eliza had very little, but now her aunt had made a name for herself as a well-respected dressmaker. Her skills meant that the shop on Boars Lane attracted only the best clientele.
Eliza smiled at her niece. ‘You are very much like her, you have the same handsome looks and complexion. But I think you also take after your grandmother, God rest her soul, who was sweetness itself. She never had a bad word for anyone.’
‘And my father? Did you ever meet my father?’ Victoria knew she was born out of wedlock but surely her mother must have mentioned her father and her aunt surely would know of him.
‘Victoria, it is best you know nothing of that man. He was wicked and took advantage of your innocent mother, the least said about him the better.’
This wasn’t the first time her niece had shown interest in her parentage, but she wasn’t going to tell her that her father only lived half a mile away and that his true daughter, Grace, was more of a guardian to her that he would ever be. The less she knew the better.
‘I’m sorry, Aunt, it’s just that I’m curious.’ Victoria hung her head. She would never find out who her father was through her aunt. Perhaps her mother would tell her if they ever were to meet.
‘Some things are best left alone. Just be content that both your mother and I love you a great deal and that we will always do what is right for you.’
Eliza left her niece, who was looking a little dejected, and went to look out of the back door. How could she tell Victoria that she was born because her father had virtually attacked her mother? It would break her heart. She stared outside at the snowdrops, a sure sign that spring was on its way. Her thoughts went back to her old home on Pit Lane. She had always wanted a garden there, instead, there was just the yard and wash house and the lavvy where her poor mother had lost her life. Life had been tough, and when Mary-Anne had left her holding baby Victoria, she didn’t know how she was going to live from one day to the next. She had nearly been at breaking point, thinking that she and Victoria would fare better in the workhouse, when Grace Ellershaw had come to her rescue. She remembered nearly feeling sick as Grace had rattled through her plans and then had shown her the premises all filled with the best quality materials and accessories. It was like a dream come true and she had decided, despite her misgivings, she would manage the store. She had named a range of clothes after Grace Ellershaw, and soon Eliza’s reputation of combining beautiful design with flawless tailoring meant that customers visited the shop from all over the country.
She took Grace’s advice of having a girl to look after young Victoria while she was at work and later, as she started to make money, appointed a tutor to teach her three days a week. The shop had done so well that now she and Victoria lived in comparative luxury. They were still in Woodlesford, but in a three-bedroomed house in a better area. They even had a maidservant, although today, being a Sunday, meant that she had the day off to visit her parents.
Things indeed had changed for her, but not for her poor sister who was just as penniless as when she first went to America. Mary-Anne had left Eliza with her child and worries, destroyed any hope she’d had of marrying Tom Thackeray and had hardly sent her a penny over the years. But still, she was her sister and she missed her, despite her having left all her troubles on her doorstep. Victoria was growing into a beautiful young woman and her mother wrote when she could afford the postage. That was how it was and Eliza couldn’t see it changing until someone or something came into their lives to make it different. No sooner had she thought that then she heard the doorbell.
‘I’ll get it, Aunt!’ Victoria cried.
A voice Eliza vaguely recognised came across the air. It couldn’t be, could it?
‘Well, this is a bloody swanky place you are living in, sis.’ Mary-Anne stepped into the kitchen with Victoria standing aghast behind her. ‘Are you glad to see me, or are you going to stand with your mouth wide open until next Christmas?’ Mary-Anne dropped her overfilled carpetbag and held her arms open, her eyes filled with tears.
‘Mary-Anne! It is you! I can’t believe it. Victoria, this is your mother!’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘I was just thinking about you—’
‘Bloody hell, I thought she was your maid and pushed her to one side. Let me look at you, girl. Yes, yes, I can see the resemblance, you are definitely my daughter, let me hug you this minute. You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this.’ Mary-Anne sobbed and hugged the dumbstruck Victoria. ‘My daughter, my precious daughter. How beautiful you are. I’m so proud of you and of you, Eliza, for looking after her so well. I can never repay you enough.’ Mary-Anne smiled at both of her relatives who were just as tearful. ‘Look at us all, you’d have thought somebody had died. Oh, but it’s good to see you both, we have so much to catch up upon.’ She put her arms around both of them and kissed them on their brows.
‘Oh, Mary-Anne, it is so good to see you. Just look at your fancy hair-do, hat, and fur wrap and look at your clothes! You sound different as well, I hardly recognised your voice.’ Eliza stood back to regard her sister.
‘Well, I’m just the same. Unlike this one here, just look at her. I can’t be her mother, she’s too beautiful to be mine.’ Mary-Anne held out her hand for Victoria to take and smiled at her precious daughter.
Victoria smiled, not knowing what quite to do. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’ She went to the kitchen sink and ran the tap as Mary-Anne gasped.
‘Well, I never. You’ve even got piped-in water! What we would have done to have that when we lived in Pit Lane.’ Mary-Anne removed her wrap and hat, carefully pulling out the pearl-ended hat pin and placing all on the kitchen table before sitting down and looking around her. ‘You’ve certainly landed on your feet, our Eliza. This house is a bit grand.’
‘I’ve been lucky and have worked long hours to get where I’m at, but never mind me.’ Eliza knew her sister wouldn’t have returned without good reason. ‘What brings you back
home after all these years? You’ve not sent us any notice, unless we have not received your letter yet.’
‘I’ve had enough of living with John.’ Mary-Anne sighed and dropped her head. ‘He’s always taking on other people’s problems instead of looking at our lives and how we live. And he’s too fond of the drink and isn’t afraid of using his fists. We have virtually nothing and I’m not content to live in that squalor. I want more in my life.’
‘But your clothes, your hair? You look every inch a lady.’
Victoria pulled up a chair after putting a teapot and cups and saucers upon the table, fascinated by her mother’s appearance.
‘I stole my clothes from work, along with the takings from their cash box, so that I could make my way home. And my hair, well, I’ve always been blessed with good hair. I just titivated it up to keep a gentleman traveller interested in me on the passage to Liverpool. He paid for my needs all the way to Leeds, without any payment in kind on my behalf, I must add. I was grateful that I did take his eye, else I might still be in Liverpool, earning my pay behind a bar – or worse – to get me the rest of the way home. I managed to shake him off but it was hard. The poor bugger will be asking for me at the theatre, he thinks I’m an actress there.’ Mary-Anne glanced at her daughter’s shocked expression. ‘I’m sorry, Victoria, I must be a disappointment to you. I hope you never have to stoop so low.’
‘No, Mother. I’m grateful that you are here and that I can now get to know you. I’m sorry that you have had such a terrible journey and had to do what you did to get here.’
Although Victoria knew her life was now one of privilege, she had never forgotten those years when her Aunt Eliza had struggled to make ends meet. A time of being hungry and badly dressed in other people’s cast-offs and never knowing if they could pay the rent on Pit Lane. Even at her young age, she knew that life did not deal everyone a fair hand and that sometimes, no matter how you tried to better yourself, you could not change your fortune.
‘I’m not proud of it, but I had to come back home while I could, while John couldn’t use his charms to keep me by his side.’ Mary-Anne sipped her tea. ‘He doesn’t know I’ve left him. I just couldn’t take it any more. We had no money and lived in worse conditions than we ever did on Pit Lane. Nobody in America has any money except the filthy rich. It’s a case of the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. So I made a break for it. I just couldn’t live with him. He’s turning into another Bill, Eliza.’
‘Oh, Mary-Anne, you did right. You must stay with us until you get on your feet. In fact, I could do with an extra pair of hands in our shop on Boars Lane, so don’t you worry about a roof over your head and work. I’ll make sure you will have both. Grace, I’m sure, will agree.’ Eliza held her hands out for Mary-Anne to hold.
‘Grace Ellershaw?’ Mary-Anne sat back.
‘Yes, she owns the shop along with myself, although nobody is supposed to know that. She made me a partner a few years ago. You know she does. I wrote you – did you get my letter? I would have to ask her first.’ Eliza smiled.
‘I’d prefer that she doesn’t know who I am. Not yet. I decided on my way back home to keep the name of Vasey, even though John and I are not rightly married. I still wear his ring that he gave me, although no vicar or priest ever blessed us both, but it is a way of putting my past life behind me. I’m Mary-Anne Vasey, a respectable widow who has lost her husband in the Civil War, if anyone asks. Grace Ellershaw will hardly recognise me, it is that long since she saw me.’ Mary-Anne watched the surprise on the faces of her sister and daughter.
Eliza stared at her sister. ‘If that’s what you want, but I can’t see why.’
‘You know why, Eliza? Some people don’t forget the past and I aim, by hook or by crook, to get someone to pay for the pain I went through. But I will say no more. I’m not about to spoil our reunion with my dark thoughts. It is wonderful to be back home. Victoria, you’re such an elegant young lady. I am awestruck that I have such a beautiful, well-spoken daughter. I owe you a great deal, Eliza, and I aim to repay you one day, I really do.’
Mary-Anne yawned.
‘You look tired,’ Eliza said. ‘I bet you’ve hardly slept. Victoria, show your mother to our spare room. She can unpack her bag and perhaps have a nap before we have luncheon. We’ve all the time in the world to catch up.’
‘Luncheon? When did dinner time turn into luncheon? You’ve gone posh, our Eliza.’ Mary-Anne smiled as she picked up her bag and belongings.
‘I’m only trying to better myself, Mary-Anne. We’re not in Pit Lane any more.’
‘Then I’d better keep that in mind and not let the side down.’ Mary-Anne yawned again. ‘I am in need of forty winks, the journey has caught up with me. Can I ask that you keep my reappearance a secret for the moment? Grace does not need to be asked to employ me just yet, I have a little money on me for the next week or two.’
‘Of course, if that’s what you want, Mary-Anne, though I doubt we can keep it a secret for ever.’
Mary-Anne yawned again and sat down heavily on the small brass bed. Victoria put her bag down beside the side of the wardrobe. Mary-Anne reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed it tight.
‘I know I haven’t been much of a mother to you, Victoria, but I have always loved you, you must know that. I didn’t want to desert you. A letter from you would fill me with hope for the future. A future with both of us in it, together.’ Mary-Anne’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I know that you love me, Mother. Your letters and Aunt Eliza have always made that clear. And I love you too, but it is going to take time for us to get to know one another, I think.’
She made for the door and closed it quietly behind her, standing for a second on the landing before going down to her aunt. What would life be like now? Eliza had always been her mother, and now she had to accept this stranger in to her life.
Mary-Anne lay on top of the padded counterpane on the bed, staring at the walls decorated with flock wallpaper. Eliza had clearly done well for herself. She’d come a lot further than she had, despite the distance she had travelled to get away from her shame to a supposedly better life. Perhaps she should have stayed, Mary-Anne thought as she looked up at the ceiling. However, she had done what she had done, and now it was time to seek some satisfaction in her life and hopefully some standing in the community. Today was the first day of her new life and with a roof over her head and, if she chose to accept it, the promise of employment with her sister, things were already looking more promising.
Chapter 7
Edmund Ellershaw, at his desk in his study, regarded the paperwork that surrounded him and grunted loudly. If only his family knew how much everything cost, then perhaps they wouldn’t spend his money like water. He looked at the pile of bills, which were demanding his attention. The bill from the tailor for a new suit that his son George had ordered was on the top and he picked it up, sighing at the frivolous detail and expensive cloth that his youngest son had chosen. He was spoilt, spoilt beyond belief. Why, when he was George’s age, he was glad just to be fed, never mind anything else.
He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a port, his hand shaking as he did so. He didn’t feel well from his previous night’s exploits down by the docks. Perhaps I should learn not to overdo it so much, he thought as he stood at the window and looked out upon the bleak March morning. After all, I’m not getting any younger. This morning he had caught an unwelcome glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, and he had thought that he looked as grey as pit dust. To top it off, now he had the shakes as the booze left his body. A medicinal glass of port would revive him, with a bit of luck, and maybe, by some miracle, the bill pile would disappear too. Not for the first time he cursed the fact that his bloody father-in-law had left all his money to his grandchildren. How was he going to get his hands on it now? And to make matters worse, George was dependent on him until he was twenty-one, when his grandfather’s inheritance would be released to him. That was nearly
another six months before he could persuade his youngest son to put his money into the pit. Could he survive until then? Not if bills like the one from the tailors kept coming in. And bloody William was no better, the upstart. Since he’d married that empty-headed slip of a thing from Levensthorpe Hall and gone into the wool trade he thought himself God’s gift. He was nowt, really. Edmund had made his own fortune – and lost it too – but William had been set up for life by his grandfather. He’d never once thought that it was his father who had put him through Cambridge and made him into the man that he was. He should show him more respect and stop making himself out to be something he wasn’t. Bloody children, sometimes he wished they’d never been born, then he wouldn’t have all this worry. Even his daughter Grace had shown him up going into business with that Wild woman, although he had to give her her due, at least she knew how to make brass. He could always fall back on her with her frills and fancies if need be. He sighed and sat back in his chair. He’d manage somehow. Something always turned up, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been short of a bob or two.
‘Edmund, are you hiding in here? It’s no good trying to keep a low profile, I know what time you came in at last night and that your clothes smell of cheap perfume and reek of ale. I suppose you’ve been up to your despicable ways again.’ Catherine Ellershaw burst open the study door without knocking to confront her husband. ‘Don’t you think you are getting too old for cavorting like a man possessed? Quite frankly, I feel sorry for the poor girl that has to put up with you, but at least she saves me from your desires. Though what I feel most upset about is that you make your wanton ways so public. All the servants are sniggering behind my back this morning. They all know what you’ve been doing.’ Catherine scowled at her husband as he held his head in his hands. Catherine looked at the glass of port next to his hand and sighed. ‘Hair of the dog, is it? Really, William, it’s not even noon yet.’