‘It’s all right.’ He kissed her and smoothed the hair from her face. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me, I won’t hurt you, I promise. Oh, Erin I love you so much!’ His hands travelled rapidly over her thin body. He was too eager; he must calm himself or he would frighten her off for ever – and he had waited so long for this. Thoughts of Peggy’s voluptuous body vanished as he clutched the woman he loved, hugging her, feeling her, loving her. ‘Erin, Erin, my love.’ His lips burnt down on hers – but there was no response. He drew a halt to his fevered lovemaking and looked down at her, his eyes suffused with passion, gleaming in the darkness. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips compressed and the body beneath him trembled with uncontrollable terror.
‘For pity’s sake!’ He made an exasperated exit from the bed, kicking out at the tangled covers and strode across to the wardrobe where the maid had hung his newly-pressed clothes.
Erin’s head shot up as he savagely thrust his legs into the trousers. ‘What are ye doing?’
He did not answer; the words remained strangled in his throat. Not until he had donned the rest of his clothes and she had reiterated her query several times did he stride back to glower over the bed. ‘What sort of creature do you think I am, Erin Teale?’ he barked, his voice on the point of breaking. ‘Blazes! If I wanted a sacrificial lamb I can get one anywhere. You come in here offering yourself up like the pieces of dead flesh I used to see at my work and expect everything to come right?’
She was sobbing now. ‘I thought you wanted me!’
‘I do! But not like that. If I just wanted something to stick it into I could go to a brothel again.’
She flinched at his bluntness, then realised what he had said. ‘Again? You’ve been to one of those places?’
‘Well, what did you think I was made of?’ he shouted. ‘My wife doesn’t want me, what am I supposed to do?’ It was all lies; he had only said it to punish her.
‘Oh, Sam!’ she wept. ‘I do want you, I do!’
‘Then show it to me, Erin. Love me,’ he begged, leaning over her.
‘I can’t! I can’t!’
He glared at her distorted face shining with tears, then straightened and marched to the door. ‘Where are you going?’ she screamed after him.
‘Anywhere! Away!’
‘But it’s the middle of the night. What will I tell people?’ She wiped her face on the sheet.
‘Tell them what you like,’ he answered, the door opening under his violent pull. ‘Tell them how I’ve done everything that’s humanly possible to please you. How I’ve given up my job because you wanted me to – how I’ve never abused you as some men might – or is that what you want? Someone who’ll knock you about and take his rights? Well, you won’t get that from me, I’m afraid, Erin, I’m no animal. I’m a man, with feelings, and I can only take so much. What d’you imagine all this does to me? To know that my body horrifies you. The way you look at me … you make me feel … loathesome … unclean.’ He was almost sobbing now.
The desperation of his words invoked her maternity, her compassion. ‘Oh, no you’re not, you’re not!’
He shook his head, not hearing. ‘It’s no good … every time I see you I want you … I’ve got to get away.’
‘Sam, I love you, please don’t leave me!’
‘I’m not leaving, I’m going home. When you’ve made your mind up what it is you want perhaps there’ll be a place for you, too.’
Miraculously, the fear vanished, replaced by the greater threat that she was about to lose him for good. ‘Sam, come back!’ She leapt up, falling from the bed, her feet imprisoned in the nightgown. ‘I know what I want. I’m all right. I’m not afraid now. Look!’ She swiftly wrenched the garment over her head and stood there in the centre of the room, naked and shimmering, in the rays of morning light that came creeping through the curtains.
Her beauty screamed out to him to go back; to plunge his body into that sweet-smelling flesh. But still he smarted over the way she had offered herself, as though making love to her husband was some sort of painful duty. He wanted her to feel the way he had felt on the hundreds of occasions she had rejected him – inadequate. Maybe then she would truly understand what it felt like, needing someone and having them throw your love back in your face. The remembered humiliations stronger than his need, he swallowed and said thickly, ‘It’s good that you’re not afraid of me any more, Erin. But I’m sorry, I’ve been disappointed too many times to trust you now. I’m going. It’ll give you time to think – to see whether you really do want me. If you decide that you do, I’ll be at home.’ Then he was gone.
* * *
Naturally it had to be Peggy who commented upon Sam’s absence from the breakfast table the next morning, though her wording was ambiguous.
‘Did anyone hear the din last night?’ she enquired lightly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. ‘Someone was having a right old thunderstorm somewhere.’
Erin blushed and reached for the milk jug. ‘I’m sorry if we woke you, Peggy.’
‘Woke us? I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke them up in Sheffield, the ding-dong you were having. What was it all about? Anything I can help with?’
Having to share a bedroom with her husband last night had not made her any sweeter. Especially since Sonny had shown he found it just as distasteful.
‘I shouldn’t imagine so,’ said Erin, keeping her voice under control. An argument was just what Peggy wanted.
‘If you have matrimonial problems perhaps I … ’
‘All right Peggy, I think ye’ve said your piece,’ warned Patrick, spreading a knob of butter over his toast ‘Erin has enough to contend with – she doesn’t need your unkind remarks.’
Peggy bridled. ‘Why, I was only trying to help, I’m sure.’
‘Well, you’re hardly the one to assist with problems of a matrimonial nature, are ye?’ said Patrick, with a sideways glance at his son. How long was this false marriage going to go on?
Peggy, still annoyed that Erin and Sonny between them had foiled her plans for last night, left the table and flounced off to her room.
Thomasin itched to find out just what had occurred during the night, but as Hannah was still at the table she fought down her inquisitiveness.
Unfortunately, Peggy had stirred Hannah’s curiosity also. ‘Where is Samuel? I thought he was to stay the night?’
Erin looked down at her plate and let Thomasin answer for her. ‘He did, Mother, but he left early this morning.’
‘Without saying goodbye? And why has Erin not accompanied him?’ Hannah’s rheumatic hand trembled under the weight of the cup.
‘Erin is staying on for a few days,’ said Thomasin brightly. ‘I’ve decided she’s looking peaky and needs a rest. Living in the country can be hard work, Mother, as you well know.’ She deftly enlarged on this. ‘You never got used to it, did you? Being away from civilised society.’ William had taken her to share his weaver’s cottage when they were first wed, but Hannah had eventually talked him into moving back to the city.
‘Indeed I did not,’ sighed Hannah, it was only to please your poor father that I went there in the first place. I would never have endured such spartan living conditions for anyone but William.’
Thomasin saw that her mother was going to cry, and said quickly, ‘Well, you can stay here as long as you want, Mother. Have you any idea of how long that might be? Just so I can arrange the laundry and such; the maids like to be kept up to date.’
The cup rattled in its saucer as Hannah put it down. ‘But I thought I made my position clear … I understood that was why you and Patrick brought me here. I could never go back there, Thomasin dear, never. The memories … it would all be too painful.’
Patrick froze in the act of stirring his tea and looked at his wife. ‘Ye mean ye’ll be staying with us … for good?’ She turned autocratic eyes on him, the Hannah they were familiar with. Thomasin had been wrong in her assessment yesterday; here she was, as rampant as ever. ‘Am I to
understand that the offer is withdrawn?’
‘Oh no, Hannah,’ he replied swiftly. ‘But ye see … well … we didn’t expect … I mean, you’re welcome to stay of course …’
‘Good, that’s settled then.’ Hannah reached for a piece of toast as Patrick stood up dazedly to wander up and down, the spoon still in his fingers. What had he let himself in for?
Thomasin tried to change her mother’s mind. ‘Are you sure you won’t regret leaving your own little house, your independence? The memories aren’t all painful ones, surely?’
‘Impossible,’ said Hannah, snapping the toast with her swollen fingers. ‘William’s ghost would be there, always. Besides, I am a gregarious creature. Living alone I would waste away. No, you have plenty of room here, Thomasin, and I’m sure you would not begrudge your mother this little comfort after all she has done for you.’ The toast crumbled and fell to the plate. ‘Really! I shall have to take your domestics in order – this toast is like charcoal.’
‘Mother, I hope you aren’t going to interfere in the smooth running of my house?’ put in her daughter.
‘Interfere? I would not dream of it – though I feel it is time someone did. If this were my household I would hire someone who can cook. This meal was appalling.’
‘Yes, well I did intend to hire another cook until all this upset,’ said Thomasin, and turned away to hide a smile as she caught sight of Patrick standing directly behind his mother-in-law, moving the spoon in a circular direction above her head. They were in for a lot more stirring if she were not mistaken.
Thomasin finally captured her daughter when Hannah and Sonny had left the table. ‘At last! Now we can talk.’ She noted Erin’s look at her father. ‘Oh, pretend your father isn’t here. He knows all about it anyway, and I’m certain he’s as curious as I am to know what the Devil went on last night.’ She made a waving gesture as Erin opened her mouth. ‘Well, it’s palpably clear what didn’t go on! What’s wrong with you, girl? Can’t you get it past your stubborn fear just how lucky you are to have a partner like Sam? Look at Sonny – what sort of a marriage has he got? Look at poor Grandma; she’s just lost her husband. You’ve got a good marriage there, Erin – and all you can do is throw it away.’
Patrick frowned at his wife. ‘There’s no need to treat the girl so hard; she doesn’t need you to tell her, I know.’
Erin raised a hand. ‘It’s all right, Father. She’s got a right to be annoyed after we made such fools of ourselves last night.’
Thomasin shook her head and covered Erin’s hand. ‘You know I don’t mind you smashing the house to bits if it resolved anything – but did it? That’s all I want to know.’
Erin looked from one to the other, at their expressions of loving concern, then she allowed her mouth to turn up at the corners, moved the hand under Thomasin’s and gripped it reassuringly. ‘Yes, it did,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m going home.’
* * *
‘Bairns!’ snorted Thomasin when she and Patrick were left alone. ‘Nowt but trouble – as if we haven’t enough. And to have Mother on top of all that.’ She groaned. ‘I’m sorry, Pat love. I did try.’
‘Ah well,’ he replied. ‘I suppose ye could say I brought it on meself. ’Twas me who was playin’ Lord Bountiful.’ He accepted her offer of more tea. ‘Aye, thank ye. That’s one thing I like about being a master: ye don’t have to worry about being late for work.’ He scoured the advertisements on the front page of the newspaper. ‘Though with Hannah in the house I’m not sure I’ll be master for long. I’ll probably be glad of somewhere to escape to.’
‘Is that new lad framing any better?’ She was glad Patrick was seeing sense now and not trying to do all the work himself. Though if she could persuade him to take on even more help she would, that’s what the money was supposed to be for – to make life easier. Patrick tended to do the opposite; this last year had seen him add a further hundred and fifty acres to his land. And he had plans to buy more – if the work didn’t kill him first.
‘He’s better than he was, as long as Catch is there to keep an eye on him. These young uns are all the same ye know, won’t have work.’ His eyes roved the page. He touched his cup to his lips and, replacing it in the saucer, turned over the leaf.
‘Well, it sounds as if our Erin has got herself straight,’ said Thomasin smiling, then her happiness turned to something nearing confusion. ‘And have you noticed Sonny’s started looking a lot happier, too? It must be his painting – it certainly isn’t Peggy, there’s nothing so sure as that. Eh, that wife of his! I do believe if she hadn’t been forced to double up with Sonny last night she would’ve been in with Sam like a shot. Did you see the way she was looking at him yesterday? It’s a wonder his clothes didn’t catch fire – oh, which reminds me! Have you taken that bottle of sedative from the medicine cabinet? I noticed it was missing the other day … are you listening to me?’
He looked up vaguely from the paper. ‘What? Sorry, I didn’t … ’ He looked back down at the print.
‘What is it?’ His wife leaned forward concernedly. ‘Patrick?’ She stared at him worriedly. Now, when did he grow old? she asked herself with surprise, looking at the lines that dissected his tanned face, his grey hair. Time had always seemed to stand still for Patrick, it was she who had been the one to age – but now he had joined her, looking incredibly earth-weary.
‘Listen to this.’ He began to read from the newspaper. ‘The headline reads: Victory Over House of Ill-Repute. “Several charitable bodies were today celebrating the closure of that infamous building ‘Traveller’s Comfort’ after a successful battle in the police court. Magistrates told the brothel-keeper,”’ here he paused for effect, ‘“Richard William Feeney, ”’ Thomasin gasped as he continued, ‘“That his house was a vile slur on this fair city and the continued referral of his courtesans to the magistrates’ proceedings would no longer be tolerated. An order was made that the house must be closed within twenty-four hours or Feeney would be faced with more serious charges. The true purpose of this supposed lodging house came to light when a known woman of the town, Maria Stanton, was witnessed by a police officer accosting several gentlemen in Spurriergate. After several such instances Stanton persuaded one of the gentlemen to go with her. The officer followed them to a house in Micklegate where on gaining entry he found all of the upstairs rooms occupied by persons of opposite gender, some of whom were in an advanced state of undress. Stanton was taken to the police station and subsequently charged with wandering abroad and indecency. Further to this, two police officers visited the said establishment two days later and found a man and a woman in an upstairs room. The man, Richard William Feeney, was arrested and charged with keeping a bawdy house. In his defence Feeney – whose mother owns a number of grocery stores in the city,”’ Thomasin groaned, ‘“emphatically refuted the charge and said that he was simply the proprietor of a legally-registered lodging house. He did admit that the woman, Stanton, was in his employ, but argued that it was in the capacity of chamber-maid; if she had committed an act of indecency then it was from an independent stance and not of his instigation. Of the initial police visit to his house, Feeney provided evidence that he had not been present on the night in question and therefore could not be held responsible for his staff’s behaviour in his absence. He had, he told the court, been forty miles away in Scarborough and produced a receipt for bed and brealfast at the Grand Hotel and also a railway ticket. Cross-examined, the arresting officer, Sergeant Rhodes, agreed that the defendant had indeed not been present during the raid and the woman concerned had admitted that she was responsible for her own misdemeanour. However, there had been other instances of girls in Feeney’s employ appearing before magistrates and despite his plea of ignorance Feeney was found guilty of permitting his house to be used for immoral purposes…”’ Patrick had read enough and tossed aside the paper in disgust, then looked at his wife.
What the newspaper account did not mention was that a member of the bench had met with an un
fortunate experience in the said house – a five pound note had been stolen from his trouser pocket while he was being entertained. Being, supposedly, a pillar of society the magistrate had little redress, but he now grasped this opportunity to get his own back by ordering the brothel to be closed down. Dickie, fearing a long sentence, decided not to make any cheeky comment. Even the regular instalments that Dickie paid out for police protection were useless in this case. The high ranking officer, finding himself in danger of demotion by his involvement, backed down. Dickie as usual was on his own.
Thomasin was rendered mute. Leadenly she reached for the paper that Pat had discarded and read the rest of the article for herself. ‘… sentence was waived in order for Feeney to carry out the magistrates’ ruling. A spokesman for the York Society for the Prevention of Youthful Depravity praised the bench’s bold decision and said: “There is still a long way to go before the respectable people of this city can walk its streets without fear of molestation, but today’s closure marks a great triumph for decency.” ’
‘Why’s he doing this to us, Tommy?’ cried Patrick from the heart. ‘I thought he was supposed to be a rich man? Men of his position don’t need to descend to that level to earn their living, do they?’
‘Of course not,’ came the wooden response. ‘He’s just doing it to spite us; drag our name through the mud. Who else do you think told them about his mother owning a number of grocery stores? I trade under the name Penny, so they’d hardly have drawn the connection unless he’d told them. He wants to make sure we all suffer with him.’
‘But what has he got to be spiteful about? Sure, I would’ve thought he’d had enough out of us.’
‘Nothing’s enough for Dickie,’ she said quietly, laying down the paper. ‘And I have the feeling that this isn’t the last we’re going to hear of our son.’
For My Brother’s Sins Page 62