by Diane Allen
Her only break was on a Sunday afternoon, when she could do as she pleased. Usually that meant spending time with Will, catching up on the week’s events. Wednesdays were spent at the manor; though she’d never have believed it in the light of their stormy first meeting, Nancy Frankland had turned out to be Alice’s saviour. Although she had a temper and sometimes did not get out of her bed, now that Alice understood the pain, both physical and mental, that tormented that petite body, she was prepared to make allowances. She was convinced that if she could only persuade Nancy to leave the manor occasionally and join her in visiting some of her favourite haunts it would do the poor girl the world of good. As it was, she would settle for enticing her out of her bedroom and down the stairs . . .
Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand grabbing at her skirts as she collected the empty dishes from Old Todd’s table. Alice flinched, but much as she hated him, she knew she daren’t upset him. She’d been naive enough to believe that if she submitted to his ‘little understanding’ it would only be the once. Now she knew better: he had a hold on her and he wasn’t going to let her forget it.
‘What about it, lass – fancy doing an old man a favour for an extra bob or two?’ Drooling at the thought of sex with a young virgin, he wiped his toothless mouth on his sleeve, smearing saliva over his chin.
Feeling sick at the thought of the old lecher’s hands on her, Alice retreated to the safety of the main bar.
‘Is Mr Todd giving you bother, Alice? He’s always been an old devil where the lasses are concerned. I wouldn’t mind, but his daughters are about your age. If only his wife knew. I bet he’s up to his tricks in every pub in the district.’ Annie Woodhead gave the culprit a discreet glance, watching him check his pocket watch while he finished his breakfast tea. ‘I’ll have words, if you want?’ she whispered.
‘You’ll do no such thing, Annie Woodhead!’ snapped Uriah, whose hearing was sharp enough when it suited him. ‘That’s what keeps the randy old devil coming back to us – he still thinks he’s a young stallion. Besides, Alice can handle him, can’t you, girl?’ He winked at her and smiled.
‘I can handle Mr Todd. I just wish he’d realize how daft he makes himself look. Has he no respect for his wife and family?’
‘While the cat’s away, the mice will play – surely you should know that?’ Uriah winked at her again and nodded at Mr Todd’s empty teapot.
Annie gasped. ‘Uriah Woodhead! Is that what you think? Well, let me tell you, there will be no playing around when I’m here – or away – so you can think on.’ Annie slammed her tea towel on the counter. ‘You go and fill his teapot, Uriah – I bet he won’t feel your bottom, dirty old devil!’
Still fuming, she watched as her husband went to ask the offending customer if he needed more tea. ‘That’ll teach him to make light of men’s advances. You can’t trust any man, lass, no matter how honourable they might seem. I feel I owe you that advice, seeing your mother’s not alive, bless her soul.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Woodhead. Old Todd’s ’armless enough. I reckon he just fancies his chances, but he’s playing the wrong game with me – I’m waiting for Mr Right. He must be tall, good-looking and, above all, wealthy, because I never want to be poor again.’
‘Aye, lass, we have all wanted one of them in our time. Trouble is, you get what you’re given or what your heart determines. Take me and Uriah – his mother and mine fixed us two up. They knew that I could cook and that he’d inherit the Moon one day, so we were lined up for one another as soon as we left school. Never mind love and looks; they didn’t enter into it. But after a while you come to feel a bit of something about one another.’ Seeing her young helper gazing out into the yard as she wiped the pots, obviously lost in daydreams about Mr Right, Annie laughed. ‘Have you been out with a lad yet, Alice?’
Alice shook her head.
‘That young Jack Alderson always looks so sweet on you – I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you out.’
‘Jack? Jack Alderson? Oh! The thought of it!’ Alice turned her nose up in disgust. ‘Him and our Will are best friends – they’d talk about me. Besides, he hasn’t any money.’
‘Money isn’t everything, miss, just remember that. And don’t you be so haughty about Jack. He’s a grand lad, and his father has a good farm at the top of the dale. It’s their own, too, so they’ll not be short of a bob or two. Aye, think on, young lady. All too often them that flash the cash are the ones with nothing in their bank balance – take it from one who knows.’
Hands on hips, Annie Woodhead glared at her young employee. She hadn’t realized that the girl was so shallow. Who did she think she was? With no family to speak of and no real roof over her head, Alice Bentham could do a lot worse than young Jack. It was high time she realized that beggars can’t be choosers. The more Annie thought about it, the more riled she got. She was even beginning to wonder whether taking the young orphan in had been such a good idea.
Sensing Annie’s outrage, Alice kept her head down and focused on cleaning the pumps and wiping the bar down. She hadn’t meant to cause offence, but when the woman started trying to pair her off with Jack . . . well, it just didn’t bear thinking about. No, her sights were set on something better than a common farm lad. Mind you, she hadn’t realized that Jack’s dad owned his own farm; she’d always thought it was rented, like theirs had been. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be nicer to Jack – after all, he did blush every time he talked to her, and it was true that he never seemed short of a bob or two. She’d ask after him on Sunday when she met Will. Right now, though, she needed to come up with a quick excuse to leave the bar for a few minutes – and it would only be a few minutes, she thought grimly, rubbing the brass foot rest with vigour.
‘Just going to pick up the bread from Mason’s, Mrs Woodhead. Shan’t be long.’ Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed her shawl and basket and darted out of the bar. Sooner she got there, the sooner it would be over.
As she hurried to the secret rendezvous place, Alice’s stomach heaved with revulsion at what was to come. Still, if that was the price of his silence, what choice did she have? The prospect of being branded a thief and the whole village getting to hear about it was far more terrifying than the thought of the old man pawing at her.
Her footsteps echoing on the cobbles, she turned into the deserted churchyard. What kind of man chose a church for such a disgusting purpose as these ‘little understandings’?
‘So, you’ve made it, bonny lass,’ came a voice from the side entrance of the church. ‘I knew tha would.’
Alice looked at the disgusting old man, the bulge in his trousers fighting to be released. He must have been fumbling with himself while he waited for her. When he reached out to stroke the side of her face, she couldn’t help but cringe.
‘Now, lass, remember our arrangement: if you keep quiet, I’ll keep quiet. And don’t forget, there’s a florin in it for you . . .’
He pushed her back against the granite church wall, fumbling with the buttons on his breeches, his breathing heavy with excitement. Thoughts rushed through Alice’s head, cutting out reality as he pulled her skirts up and tugged her bloomers down. His fingers caressed her intimate parts, making her quiver and causing him to lose control. He tried to thrust his tired manhood into her, but in a repeat of last month’s performance, he was too late. Anticipation had got the better of him. His moment had come and gone, leaving him weak and embarrassed.
To Alice’s relief, he hurriedly buttoned his breeches, hiding the offending organ, and then reached into his waistcoat pocket. His face was ruddy and his breath was short as he pressed the florin into Alice’s palm.
‘Remember, lass – you say nothing, I say nothing. I’m back next month, so you can earn yourself another bob or two.’
With that he slipped away, leaving Alice feeling sick and disgusted with herself. She pulled up her bloomers and adjusted her skirts, then leaned against the church wall, her body shaking, the florin clutched in her hand. No m
atter how she tried to justify her actions, a niggling voice kept telling her that she was no better than a common whore, taking the old man’s money. She knew her parents would be ashamed of her, firstly for stealing, but more so for letting a dirty old man touch her. A tear trickled down her cheek and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand.
Sticking her head out of the doorway to make sure he was gone, she did her best to compose herself before heading to the baker’s to pick up the bread. The shiny florin was still clutched in her hand. She’d been certain that everything would go the same as it had the previous month: all over in no time and him incapable of anything more than a bit of fumbling. But even so, was it really worth a florin and his silence? If she told the Woodheads about the bacon, and explained that she hadn’t meant to steal from them, that she’d only been trying to look after Will, perhaps they would understand. The way she saw it, it was Old Todd who was in the wrong, taking advantage of a young girl who was down on her luck.
If he tried to blackmail her again, she promised herself that she would tell Annie. Surely she would understand?
It was a beautiful summer’s day. The sun shone, dragonflies skimmed and darted over the glittering river – and best of all it was a Sunday, so Alice could lie back in the long meadow grass amid the smell of new-mown hay instead of being cooped up in the Moon.
‘Yes! Yes! Our Ali, did you see that?’ Will’s voice rang out from the direction of the river, where he was playing ‘ducks and drakes’. ‘Seven leaps with one stone, right across to the other side of the Dee. Bet you can’t do that!’
‘When are you going to grow up, Will? Skimming stones is for kids.’ Alice was in no mood for her brother. She was having a hard time driving horrible thoughts of Old Todd from her head, and here was Will, so full of himself after his week with Jack at Stone House marble works that he hadn’t even noticed how unhappy she was.
‘Pardon me for breathing! What’s up with you, my lady? You used to enjoy playing in the river. Besides, it’s Sunday – we’ve got the whole afternoon to ourselves, nobody breathing down our bloody necks.’ He picked a buttercup and tickled his growling sister under the chin with it. Furious, she snatched the flower out of his hand.
‘I’m fed up with having no home, no money and no say in where my life is going. I don’t want to be a serving girl in a pub with part-time work at the manor. I want to be looked after, have fine clothes, maids and servants and a gentleman husband.’ Alice crossed her legs and pulled her skirt over them, then lay on her back, the sun’s rays filtering through her eyelashes, dreaming of the things she could do if she only had money.
‘Well, hard luck, our lass – you’re stuck here with me.’ Alice was forever harping on about wanting fine this and fancy that. Sometimes it seemed to Will that all his little sister thought about was brass. ‘If I’d known my company was going to be such a disappointment, I’d not have bothered coming. I should have gone shooting with Jack instead.’
Alice sat up quickly, bushing the buttercup debris from her bodice. ‘How is Jack? He wasn’t at the manor when I called on Miss Nancy.’
‘He’s all right. Why the sudden interest? Usually you don’t look the side he’s on.’
‘I’ve missed his friendly face, that’s all. And I was thinking, since he has such a kind disposition, perhaps I could entice Nancy downstairs next week so that she could meet him – I’m sure she gets fed up of my face. Of course, I’d have to get Lord Frankland’s permission first.’
‘Hark at you: “a kind disposition”! You mean he’s soft.’ Will was taken aback as much by his sister’s change in attitude as her newly acquired vocabulary. Alice never had a good word for his best mate. It was the opposite with Jack; he was always asking for news of Alice. ‘Any road, you’ll not be seeing Jack or his lordship next week. Jack’ll be at the marble works with me, and his lordship’s away in Russia until the end of the week. And when he does return, first thing he’ll want to do is see us.’ Seeing the effect his words were having on Alice, Will decided to antagonize her further by playing up his newfound importance: ‘Me and Jack are his lordship’s right-hand men at the moment. We have a lot to report. He’ll not have time for you.’
‘You two – his lordship’s right-hand men? Since when!’ Alice sat up.
‘As I’ve been telling you for the last hour, since he’s had us up at Stone House watching what goes on there. And by God, is he going to be altering things when we tell him what’s happening up there. Do you ever listen to a word I tell you?’
‘Not if I don’t have to. It’s always “Me and Jack this . . . Me and Jack that . . .” I just shut it all out.’
Alice primly smoothed down her hair and then put her hat on as if she were preparing to depart. Ever since she was a baby, Will had been able to gauge her mood by the set of her chin; when it was set firm – as it was now – there was no reasoning with her. He took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time.
‘I can see I’m wasting my breath here.’ Slipping the watch back into his waistcoat, he picked up his cap and set it on his head. ‘The trouble with you, our Alice, is you think of nothing but yourself. If you’d bothered to listen, you’d know the work I’ve been doing at Stone House could very well lead to something better. By the end of the week, when his lordship comes back, I know for certain there’ll be one out of work up there. And he’s in a cottage that might just do us two – that is, if you can be bothered to live in a two-up two-down.’
Alice said nothing, just sat and watched him as he turned away from her, thumbs in waistcoat pockets and his cap at a jaunty angle, and set off along the riverbank. When he got to the bridge, he raised his hand in a wave. She didn’t bother to wave back. Let him stew. Always going on about his life, couldn’t be bothered to ask about her. She tore off tufts of grass and threw them in the river, watching as they were carried by the current, veering round stones and whirling in giddy circles. All the while, Will’s words echoed in her ears, bringing back memories of another occasion when she’d been told that she thought only of herself: the day her mother died, the day her father had shouted at her for hiding up the fell while her mother lay dying. Was she so selfish? She didn’t think so. She was trying to make the best of her life, that’s all.
Tears welling in her eyes, Alice pulled her feet together and wrapped her arms around her knees, slowly rocking her body back and forth. She felt so lonely: nobody in the world to look after her, and now she’d upset Will on their afternoon off. Her and her big mouth and sulky moods!
There had been times when the only thing that kept Will and Jack at Stone House was the knowledge that on Lord Frankland’s return O’Hara would be brought to account for his brutal, tyrannical behaviour. Finally the two weeks had come to an end and they could stop counting the days: this morning they would make their report.
They had decided to talk to his lordship at the manor rather than risk being overheard at the marble works. As they sat on the kitchen-garden wall awaiting his summons, Will could see that Jack was nervous. He was nervous himself; from the moment Lord Frankland had given them their orders, they’d known that a difficult choice lay ahead. Spying for their employer didn’t sit easy with them; it went against the grain to run to the boss telling tales. What’s more, though he hadn’t dared lay a hand on them over the past fortnight, O’Hara had watched them like a hawk, his menacing presence and reputation for violence sufficient to remind them that they would suffer if they didn’t keep quiet.
‘I say we tell him exactly how it is, every last detail.’ Jack couldn’t hide how he felt about the foul-mouthed foreman. After devoting much of the fortnight to tending the horse and trying to nurse it back to health, he hated its abuser with a vengeance.
‘If you don’t, I’m certainly going to. Once his lordship hears about all those illegal money-making schemes, I bet you anything he’ll have O’Hara gone by the end of the day. It’s small wonder that Stone House isn’t making any profit.’
‘Aye, he’ll
lose his job, all right. And then the bastard will come after us. He’ll break our necks for telling on him.’
Knowing the truth of this, they both fell silent. They remained that way for some time, until Will decided to break the gloom by introducing a lighter topic of conversation.
‘I don’t know what got into our Ali last Sunday. One minute she was in the mood from hell, and the next – you’ll not believe this, Jack – she actually asked after you! She can be a funny bugger sometimes, our lass.’ Will kicked his heels against the kitchen-garden wall.
‘What did she say? Is she missing seeing me at the manor?’ Will blushed from head to toe.
‘Aye, she did say she missed you. She was thinking of introducing you to Miss Nancy – rather you than me! Two crazy women together? Good luck with that, mate.’ Will grinned and slapped him on the back.
‘Will, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now . . . Would you mind if I asked your sister to take a walk with me one evening, or perhaps on Sunday when she has more time?’ Jack stared at his feet and shuffled the gravel underneath them, not daring to look his best friend in the face.
‘You what? Our lass? Get away! God, you must be a glutton for punishment, either that or you’re light in the head, man! Do you honestly mean it? Because if you do, I suppose I’d better say you can. Not that it’s up to me – she’s her own woman, our Ali. I daren’t tell her anything. You’ll soon find that out yourself.’
‘Cheers, Will. I’ve kept looking at her and thinking how bonny she is.’ Jack beamed.
‘Man, I don’t want to know! She’s my sister – just you remember that.’ Will grinned.