A Child of Jarrow

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  It felt so good to be back at Ravensworth. The rhododendrons that Emma loved were in full bloom. He plucked a blossom as he passed, but it fell in a shower at his feet.

  Alexander strolled through the gardens and around the lake, feeling a pang of longing for the previous summer when he had walked in the setting sun with Kate. Someone was fishing out on the water and birdsong filled the warm air, but it felt empty.

  He had no way of knowing if Kate still worked at the castle. There had been so much upheaval in the past months. Perhaps she had gone with Emma and was working for her in Newcastle? Suddenly Alexander was filled with a desire to find out.

  He made excuses not to return with his father to Darlington, insisting he visit their shipping agents on Tyneside.

  ‘I’ll return in a few days,’ he promised.

  ‘You better had,’ Jeremiah warned. ‘We have that theatre and supper party arranged for the De Wintons, remember. You miss that at your peril.’

  It did not take long to find the modern red-brick mansion that Emma and her new husband had taken overlooking the wooded gorge of Jesmond Dene. The couple were out walking when he called, so Alexander waited impatiently in the upstairs drawing room.

  ‘Tell me,’ he asked the maid, who showed him into the light, well-furnished room, ‘does a girl called Kate Fawcett work here?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, sir.’

  Alexander felt a stab of disappointment. ‘Never mind, thank you.’ She curtsied and left.

  Minutes later he heard voices below and went out to greet Emma.

  ‘Alex? This is wonderful!’ She threw out her arms to him as she mounted the stairs.

  ‘Mrs Wadsworth!’ he teased.

  She laughed and they embraced like mother and son.

  ‘How are you?’ She steered him back to the drawing room. ‘You look thinner. Tell me every detail of your South American journey,’ she ordered, ‘right from the beginning. James and I want to hear everything.’

  Alexander glanced behind them and saw her young husband stride in and hold out a hand in greeting. Alexander hesitated a beat then shook it.

  ‘James - it’s good to see you.’

  ‘Sir,’ James grinned.

  ‘You can call him Alexander now, dear,’ Emma said. ‘Remember your position.’

  The men laughed and sat down either side of her. Tea was brought in while Alexander enthused about Argentina and the riding.

  ‘Have you been back to Ravensworth?’ Emma asked abruptly.

  ‘Yes.’ His look was cautious. ‘It’s not the same without you there. Why did you not return to Farnacre?’

  She gave a smile of regret and reached out to hold James’s hand. ‘It would have been too awkward. You know how unkind gossip can be. Better to start afresh somewhere new. We’re thinking of doing some travelling for a while. Perhaps Argentina, if it’s so wonderful. What do you think, dearest?’

  James flushed. ‘Anywhere you choose.’

  Alexander could see his host found the situation awkward and so he declined an invitation to stay for dinner.

  ‘No, I return to Darlington tonight,’ he said, kissing Emma’s hand. ‘Papa is matchmaking for me this week.’

  ‘Polly De Winton, I hope?’

  ‘Why do you hope?’

  ‘Because she’d make you happy. She’s in love with you.’

  ‘How could you possibly know?’ Alexander laughed.

  ‘She was one of the few county friends who dared to send us a message of goodwill on our marriage. Polly’s been a visitor here - she talked about you a lot.’

  Alexander laughed it off. ‘You must have been stuck for conversation.’

  As he left, he asked as casually as possible, ‘By the way, whatever happened to that singing maid of yours?’

  Emma looked blank.

  ‘Your nightingale?’ he prompted. ‘Kate, I think she was called.’

  ‘Oh, the housemaid.’ Emma remembered. ‘She came with me to Famacre. I suppose she must still be there.’

  ‘The hall is closed up,’ he told her. ‘Caroline returned south.’

  ‘Then I don’t know.’

  James spoke behind them. ‘Do you mean Kate Fawcett?’

  Alexander’s heart jumped. ‘Yes - that could be her name.’

  ‘She has an uncle in the gardens. Spoke to him at the late earl’s funeral. Said Miss Peters sent her and the other maids packing after we left.’

  Why hadn’t he thought of seeking out her Uncle Peter? Although how could he explain his interest in Kate without causing suspicion?

  ‘So she left the estate?’

  ‘Yes. Said something about her working in a public house. Bit of a comedown for a girl like her.’

  She must have gone back to Jarrow, Alexander thought in disappointment. The place was full of drinking houses, as far as he could remember. He hated to think of her there. Was she reduced to serving dockers in some dingy bar, shut away from the fresh air and sunlight? He had an urge to rush to the town and search until he found her, rescue her and take her into his own household.

  ‘Is it important?’ Emma asked.

  ‘No,’ he said quickly.’ She just crossed my mind - with all this talk of Ravensworth.’

  She gave him a curious look as he went.

  How stupid of him even to mention her. He had been harbouring a ridiculous dream all these months. Nothing could ever come of it. Kate was gone and he was never likely to see her again.

  All the way back on the train he felt wretched, but by the time he reached home he had convinced himself that he must put her from his mind. He would do something to please his father for once, and begin to court Polly in earnest.

  Chapter 18

  Late October 1904

  The snow came down so suddenly that drinkers at the Ravensworth Arms were caught unawares. The light went quickly from the short afternoon and they left the fug of the taproom for the thick, silent white world of a snowstorm. Some struggled home, cursing the lack of moon, while others returned to the haven of the warm inn.

  Kate was kept extra busy behind the bar and serving food, while Mary helped prepare rooms for stranded travellers. There was a commotion at the door.

  ‘Carriage gone in the ditch up the hill,’ Bram Taylor shouted the news. ‘I’ll take a couple of lads and see if we can pull them out.’

  Kate nodded for Robert to go and help. The gardener’s son had been calling in to see her regularly since the summer. He drank little but made it last all evening in the hope of exchanging a few words with her. She found him likeable but tongue-tied and was growing impatient that he would never ask her to walk out.

  ‘Tell them there’s mutton broth to warm them before they travel on.’

  Half an hour later, the men stamped back in with a blast of icy air and swirls of snow.

  ‘Two more for the night,’ Bram called cheerfully, ushering in two be-cloaked figures. ‘Mary, show them to our best bedchamber.’

  Kate glanced through the door to see her sister bobbing at the be-hatted gentlemen and leading them to the stairs.

  ‘Someone grand?’ Kate asked Robert in amusement.

  ‘Aye,’ he blew on his numb hands, ‘been at the castle - left too late. Coach is stuck fast. We’ve stabled the horses.’

  Kate grinned to hear him so garrulous. ‘Two more for supper then.’

  But Mary came back saying the old man was staying in the room.

  ‘Wants a bowl of broth taken up to him - too grand for sitting in a public parlour,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘Other one’s coming down. Now he looks a real gentleman - posh voice and clothes. Handsome too.’

  Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Suppose you’d like me to take the soup up to the old man while you serve down here?’


  ‘Aye,’ said Mary with a quick smile. ‘Ta, our Kate.’

  Kate knocked at the door to the large bedroom and went in. She found a thin man with sparse grey hair sitting huddled by the coal fire, wrapped in a blanket.

  ‘Soup, sir.’ Kate put it on the table next to him. ‘Are you warm enough?’

  He fixed her with red-rimmed, watery eyes. ‘Thank you, yes.’

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like? Mug of beer? I could warm it with the poker.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t touch the evil liquid.’

  Kate felt the reproof. ‘I’ll bring a jug of hot water for washing, then. Nothing devilish in that.’

  ‘Wait. Have I seen you before?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘Don’t know, sir. I used to work at the castle,’ she said with a lift of her chin.

  ‘That must be it,’ he said, and turned to his soup. ‘You may go.’

  Kate descended the stairs wondering who this man with the well-cut clothes and superior air could be. There was something familiar about him too. But the bar was busy and she had no chance to question Mary on his companion.

  The night wore on and the snow stopped, but nobody seemed in a hurry to go home.

  ‘Give us a song, Kate!’ a miner from Kibblesworth called. ‘Then we’ll gan home.’

  Taylor encouraged her with a wink, so she went and stood by the fire and began to sing popular songs.

  ***

  Pushing back his chair, Alexander thanked the pretty, thin-faced maid and headed for the stairs. Behind, the door to the taproom opened and a blast of noisy singing spilt out. He hesitated. Jeremiah was upstairs waiting to talk over their latest business at the castle and a possible trade mission to Germany. The bar looked warm and welcoming. A swift whisky before bed would do no harm. His father could wait.

  Alexander turned back. As he stepped through the door, a woman’s voice came strong and clear. ‘The Waters of Tyne’, he thought in recognition. In an instant he was reminded of a summer’s evening at Ravensworth.

  His insides clenched. That voice. It wasn’t just the song that was familiar. His heart started to thud. Alexander pushed his way into the room, past the drinkers at the bar. The singer was staring into the flames, her soft cheeks flushed in the firelight, hair glinting.

  Kate!

  He did not think he had spoken aloud, but she chose that moment to turn and look across the room. Her eyes widened in astonishment and she faltered in her song. They gazed at each other in shock.

  Kate, seeing how others turned to stare, recovered herself and ploughed on with the song. Seeing how flustered she was, Taylor called a halt to the singsong and told his customers to drink up and get off home before the snow started again.

  Kate dashed for the safety of the kitchen. Her heart drummed so much she felt sick and breathless. After all this time! She had not set eyes on him for over a year and had given up any hope of seeing him again. Yet here he was, conjured out of the storm, and instantly he had the effect of making her legs useless and her words trapped in her throat.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Mary demanded.

  ‘Just catching me breath,’ Kate gasped, clutching the table.

  Taylor called, ‘There’s glasses to clear!’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Mary offered, alarmed by Kate’s look.

  Kate nodded and sank into a chair. This was ridiculous! How could he affect her so? He probably hardly remembered her or his once rash promise to take her riding. Though his aghast look suggested he had recognised her. Was it embarrassment that coloured his lean face?

  She stood up and splashed water on her cheeks. No one was going to make her cower in the kitchen. She had nothing of which to be ashamed. Kate emerged and set about clearing the bar. Alexander was sitting at a table by the fire being served by Mary. She was laughing at something he said.

  Kate’s insides somersaulted to see his sensuous smile and tawny eyes, and she felt a stab of jealousy. She busied herself with clearing the glasses and saying good night to the last of the drinkers. As she wiped a table close to Alexander, she heard him speak her name.

  ‘Kate,’ he said in a low voice, ‘do you not remember me?’

  She looked up and felt her face burn under his reproachful look. Remember him? How could she not!

  ‘Aye, sir,’ she managed to say, continuing a vigorous mopping of the table.

  Alexander felt dashed. He had found her again after all this time, having forced her from his mind, yet she hardly gave him a passing glance! Their summer walks must have meant nothing to her. Or was she wary of him after he broke their tryst?

  ‘Kate, come and sit with me.’

  She glanced at the landlord, who was ushering people out of the door. ‘I can’t stop, sir.’

  ‘Then just a word,’ he insisted. ‘You could bring me another whisky.’

  She nodded and went to pour the drink. Mary shot her a suspicious look.

  ‘How does he know you?’ she hissed.

  ‘From the castle,’ Kate whispered. ‘I used to clean his room.’

  ‘Fancy him remembering that,’ she said in surprise.

  ‘Aye,’ Kate said, and hurried back. As she put the glass on the table, Alexander stopped her with a hand on hers. She jolted.

  ‘I’m sorry that I never got the chance to see you again,’ he said softly. He watched her intently. ‘Everything changed when Lord Ravensworth died.’

  She nodded.

  ‘How have you been, Kate? I thought you’d returned to Jarrow.’

  She eyed him. Had he asked about her? ‘I thought I’d have to when Lady Ravensworth left, but I found work here with Mary - she’s me sister.’ Kate nodded towards Mary, who was watching them with interest.

  ‘Two pretty Fawcett daughters - no wonder the inn is so popular.’

  She smiled, unable to resist his charm. ‘It’s more to do with the snow than a couple of lasses.’

  Taylor called over as he bustled Mary from the room. ‘Kate, don’t be bothering Mr Davies. You’re needed in the back.’

  Alexander’s grip tightened for an instant. ‘I want to see you again - talk to you.’

  ‘It’s not possible here,’ she said, looking around nervously.

  ‘When is your next day off?’

  ‘Sunday week.’

  ‘I’ll come back then. Meet me, Kate,’ he urged.

  She nodded quickly and pulled her hand free. Hurrying from the room, she did not dare look back for fear he would see the longing in her face.

  ***

  The next day, the men left early after bowls of porridge in their room, which Mary took up to them. Kate wondered if she had dreamt the previous night’s conversation and was sure Alexander would not return on her day off. Still, as the day drew near her hopes and nervousness grew. If he came at all, would he call boldly at the inn and ask for her? Should she walk into the village and look out for him?

  Mary, who was working that Sunday, was suspicious of her evasiveness.

  ‘Are you ganin’ to meet Robert?’

  ‘No, but I might walk up to Ravensworth and call on Aunt Lizzie.’ Kate avoided her sister’s look. She did not dare tell her in case it came to nothing. Mary would ridicule her for being a romantic fool with ideas far above herself.

  The afternoon came, bright and blustery, and Kate set out, unable to contain her restlessness any longer. Even if he never came, she could not be confined to the inn. She would walk all afternoon until it grew dark and her yearning was spent.

  As she picked her way along the muddy verge, where lumps of snow still lingered under hedges, she heard the hooting of a train as it pulled into Lamesley station. It was coming from Newcastle on its way south and Kate thought nothing of it. She knew if Alexander came it would be from the other directi
on.

  She stopped under the sheltering wall of St Andrew’s church. Her mother had once described sitting on the church wall as a small girl, long, long ago, watching a Liddell wedding. As beautiful as an angel, she said of the young bride, in a voice of rare softness. Kate looked up at the stone wall and tried to imagine Rose as an excited child perched up there, clutching the hand of her old grandmother, who had been a servant at Ravensworth.

  How different life would have been for them all if Rose’s mother had not left the village to marry an Irishman on Tyneside. Kate touched the cold stone and felt a strange bond with the place, deep roots that went back through the generations. She was connected to these ancient stone walls, dun-coloured fields and rounded Durham hills that seemed changeless under the cold open sky. They were her inheritance as much as anybody else’s.

  Footsteps approaching made her glance round, her mind still half in the past. The familiar figure striding towards her with a glint of silver-topped cane made her heart jump. He had come as promised!

  Alexander grinned in delight to see her waiting at the church gate for him. It quelled his nervousness at the thought she might have gone out for the day, not believing his words. But here she was, looking pink-cheeked and dreamy under the last copper leaves of autumn.

  He stopped short, curbing his urge to reach out and seize her hands.

  ‘You came to meet me!’

  ‘Sir,’ she blushed, ‘I was on me way up to see me aunt. I wasn’t sure ...’

  ‘That I’d keep my promise? I don’t blame you, Kate, after the last time. I intended to meet you, but I couldn’t get away. There was no way of letting you know. I thought you would understand.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And I tried to find you at the lake - but you never came.’ His voice was reproachful.

  ‘I did go!’ she protested. ‘Twice that following week. But you weren’t there.’ She stopped, going hot under his gaze.

  He smiled in delight. ‘So you did think of me! I’ve thought of you often, Kate.’ He stepped towards her. ‘You still appear in my drawings. Even in South America you haunted me.’

  ‘South America!’ she gasped.