Salem Street

by Anna Jacobs

  He looked at her with a loathing so intense that it made him feel physically sick. “I knew you were a cold woman,” he said, somehow keeping his voice down. “I knew that I’d made a dreadful mistake in marrying you. But I never realised, no, I never let myself realise that you were so monstrous as to desert your own child when she’s ill.”

  “Monstrous!” she threw back at him. “It’s you who’s monstrous, condemning your wife and child to live in a cesspit like Bilsden. If anything happens to Marianne it’ll be your fault for bringing her here!”

  He felt nauseated by her very presence. “You are quite at liberty to leave, Annabelle …”

  “How very kind of you!”

  “ … but let it be understood that it will be for ever this time. I shall not permit you to return.”

  Silence stretched between them for a moment, then she shrugged her shoulders. “So be it! You were not the only one who made a mistake.” She turned to leave.

  “One moment, if you please. I shall make you a small allowance, and you have your house in Brighton, but I have no intention of keeping you in luxury.”

  She gave a sniff of laughter. “As you please. As you say, I have my house and some small investments from what mama left me. I presume you’ll allow me to keep those? I shan’t need a fortune to live in modest comfort and enjoy the company of civilised people.”

  He inclined his head in assent and spoke with a distant courtesy, which irritated her intensely. “I have no fears for you, Annabelle. Your sort always manages. However, I would prefer that you leave my mother’s jewellery behind for Marianne and I must warn you not to take anything with you but your clothes and personal possessions. My family silver, for instance. I know every piece of it.”

  Her mouth dropped open in astonishment, for he had never seemed very aware of material things. She had at that moment been calculating how many of the smaller pieces of household silver she could take with her.

  “I’ve always noticed more than you gave me credit for,” he added, as if reading her mind, “but I preferred to live in peace rather than wrangle with you over the housekeeping details. However, I do not wish Marianne to lose what small inheritance she has from my family.” He rang the bell. “Ah, Mabel, please tell Cora to pack Mrs Lewis’s bags. She has to leave immediately for Brighton.”

  Mabel dropped a curtsey, surprise in her eyes. “Yes, sir. And sir – there are some urgent messages.”

  “Thank you, Mabel. I’ll attend to them after I’ve seen Marianne. She didn’t look too well this morning.”

  Mabel bobbed another curtsey and scurried out to pass on the news that the mistress was leaving again, and her only back a few weeks, and that the master was looking furious. This was so unlike him as to cause considerable speculation below stairs.

  Jeremy turned to his wife. “Should you disobey my orders and try to take anything extra with you, Annabelle, I shall not only withdraw my financial support, but I shall instruct my lawyer to take over your Brighton interests. As your husband, I would be well within my legal rights to do so.”

  She inclined her head to signify assent, not trusting herself to speak to him, then she swept out without a word, to vent her anger on the servants as she systematically cleared out all her cupboards and drawers. Cora and Mabel gaped in astonishment as every trunk in the house was brought down from the attics and every single item of their mistress’s clothing was removed from its storage place – winter mantles, summer muslins, and even old clothes long discarded.

  “I have no intention of ever returning to this town,” Annabelle told them. You may come with me to Brighton, Cora, as my maid, or you may stay in Bilsden, but you had better decide quickly.”

  “You – you’re going to live in Brighton – for good, ma’am?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said? Are you totally stupid, girl?”

  Cora goggled for a minute, did a quick calculation that if she stayed her services as a lady’s maid wouldn’t be required any more, anyway, and said hastily that she’d rather go with her mistress, if that was all right. Mabel just stood and glowered. All her plans, all her waiting had come to nothing, and if Mrs Lewis were leaving, there was no hope of future changes that would give her a chance to become a lady’s maid.

  “Was you wanting a parlourmaid, Mrs Lewis?” she nerved herself to ask.

  Annabelle studied Mabel briefly. “No. You’re too fat and ugly! I shall hire my staff in Brighton.”

  Mabel flushed crimson and turned to leave the room.

  Annabelle nodded to Cora, showing no pleasure in her acceptance. “You had better pack your own things, then. But do it rapidly. I’m not staying in Bilsden a minute longer than I have to. We’re leaving first thing in the morning, if it takes us all night to pack. Mabel! Oh, you’re still there. Good! Please send someone over to the livery stables before you do anything else. I want a carriage first thing in the morning to take me to the station in Manchester. No, they’d better send two vehicles. There’ll be all my luggage, too. And send to the carpenter’s for boxes. He is to provide them tonight or not at all.”

  Seething with fury, Mabel turned to obey.

  Upstairs in the nursery suite, Jeremy found his daughter to be a bit feverish, but quite cheerful. He sat on her bed and chatted for a few minutes, noting her symptoms, then he tucked her up and asked Ellie to step outside for a moment.

  “There’s scarlet fever going round,” he said abruptly. “I’m not sure whether Marianne has that or the influenza. It’s even possible that she has only a cold. Can you keep a closer eye on her than usual and call me if you think she’s worse, or if you notice any other symptoms?”

  “Yes, sir. Would you want me to move my bed in with her? I could keep an eye on her during the night, then.”

  “It might be the best thing, if you don’t mind.”

  “She won’t like it. Thinks herself too old for that sort of thing.” Ellie smiled and then waited, as he still seemed to have something on his mind. The poor doctor was grossly overworked at the moment. Your heart went out to him, sometimes.

  Jeremy cleared his throat, finding it hard to continue, so marked was the contrast between the reactions of his wife and of Ellie to his daughter’s illness. And Ellie was only a hired servant. “I am – I’m touched by your loyalty, Ellie. I shall not forget it.” He cleared his throat again. “I must explain – my wife is leaving for Brighton tomorrow. She dislikes illness.”

  “Yes, sir, I had heard.” Mabel hadn’t waited to spread the news around the house.

  “She will not be returning.”

  Ellie’s eyes flew to his face in surprise. “Not returning? Not ever?”

  “No. I told her that Marianne was possibly very ill, but she still insisted on going, so I told her not to return. I thought you ought to know the truth, Ellie. In case Marianne gets upset. But please don’t spread the news. I’ll see Mrs Cosden later and tell her what she needs to know.”

  “Yes, sir.” Oh, the poor man, she was thinking. As if he hadn’t enough on his plate! He didn’t deserve this.

  “And I’ll tell Marianne myself, when she’s better.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you all these years.”

  Ellie turned bright red with pleasure at this unexpected compliment. “I’m happy to be of service, sir. I’m very fond of Miss Marianne.” And of him, she suddenly realised. He was such a nice man and yet he seemed so lonely and unloved. She realised that he was still speaking and forced herself to concentrate.

  “And Marianne is fond of you, Ellie. Rightly so. You’ve been more of a mother to her than my wife has.” He sighed and left to attend to his patients and she watched him go sadly. Poor man! Then she brightened up a little. Life would be much more pleasant without Mrs Lewis around.

  26

  March to April 1845

  When Jeremy Lewis visited Salem Street the next day, William was slightly worse and An
nie’s face was haggard with worry. The other women were not around and he accepted a cup of tea from her, glad to be able to spend a few minutes peacefully.

  “You’re looking tired, Jeremy,” she said, as she handed him the cup. She had not realised that she was using his given name, for although he always called her Annie, she had scrupulously stuck to Dr Lewis.

  He had not noticed, either. “I am tired. What with the influenza and now this outbreak of scarlet fever, I’m run off my feet. And it’s going to get a lot worse, I fear. I had three new cases of fever today, very young children, not boys from the school. So it’s spreading.”

  “And you the only doctor,” she said sympathetically. “There’s too much work for one doctor in Bilsden now.”

  He sighed. “Yes. I’ve been thinking of getting an assistant, a junior partner whom I could train to my own ways. I should have got one before now, but Annabelle objected to anyone coming to live with us. Well, I have someone in mind, someone I met in London, and I shall send to ask him immediately.” He sipped his tea and said abruptly, “I think my daughter may have the influenza.”

  “Oh, no!” She stretched out her hand in sympathy and then was overcome by confusion as he kept hold of it.

  “You’re a fine person, Annie. I admire you greatly.”

  “Please, Jeremy – don’t …”

  “I’ve got to talk to someone,” he begged, clasping her hand in both of his. “And there’s no one else. I’m not very good at making friends – too wrapped up in my work, I suppose. And my wife – well, you know what she’s been like.”

  She stopped trying to pull her hand away and let it rest in his, soft and warm, with the fingertips roughened from sewing. “Yes. I know. Is – is Marianne very ill?”

  “I don’t know yet. You never know with the influenza. She’s feverish and complaining that she aches all over. But she’s got Ellie, at least she’s got Ellie.”

  Annie thought he put an unexpected emphasis on this statement and looked at him questioningly.

  He was silent for a moment, then he began to talk, slowly and painfully. “You might as well know. I expect it’ll be all over Bilsden soon. My wife has gone to live in Brighton – permanently. She knew Marianne was ill, but she wouldn’t go near her, or even delay her plans to leave. She’s afraid of illness, I know. But to abandon her own daughter like that! I was disgusted, sickened by her. So – so I told her – I told her not to come back.

  “Never?”

  “Never. I can’t stomach any more of her shrewishness, Annie. She makes the whole house unhappy. You of all people know what she’s like.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “It’ll cause talk. I had hoped that she would stay here until Marianne grew up. A girl on the verge of womanhood needs a mother. But a mother who would leave her sick child, refuse even to see her, well, I think we shall be better off without her. When Marianne recovers, I shall see my lawyer and put our separation on a legal footing.”

  Annie made a sympathetic noise in her throat.

  “I must see that Marianne doesn’t feel the lack too much,” he went on, thinking aloud, rather than talking to her. “She’s nearly a young lady now. Perhaps one of my cousins would come and live with us to keep her company. I don’t know. I haven’t kept in touch with the rest of my family since my parents died.” He sighed and let Annie’s hand fall. “Thank you for listening to me. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my worries when you have enough of your own.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” she replied quietly and his face brightened a little at her words. “We all need someone to talk to. I have my brother and several good friends. Sally’s almost a mother to me, and there’s Bridie, too. I’m luckier than you. I feel honoured by your confidences, Jeremy.”

  He sighed and stood up. “I must go now. Thank you again, my very dear friend.”

  When Jeremy came the next day, Annie was asleep and he wouldn’t let them wake her. He felt renewed just to visit the house. He hadn’t realised how lonely he’d become, how short of real friends.

  William’s rash came out as expected, but he also developed a raging temperature. As the boy grew worse, Jeremy found it hard to persuade Annie to keep her hopes up. William’s face was flushed, his forehead was burning hot and his tongue was heavily furred. He kept complaining that he was choking.

  Annie and Kathy shared the nursing, leaving the running of the house and any business matters to Alice, but Annie took the major part in the nursing, spending every minute she could with her son, and only consenting to go and lie down when she was too exhausted to care for him properly.

  Night ran into day in a blur of William’s delirious ravings. When he burned with fever, they sponged him with boiled water; when he shivered, they covered him carefully. They fed him sips of water as often as he would take them, but he could eat nothing, for his tongue was swollen. He lost weight visibly, his limbs seeming thinner every day. Tom was a tower of strength to the whole household, and Dr Lewis’s calls helped Annie, too. Pauline Hinchcliffe sent baskets of hothouse fruits and other delicacies, which were wasted on the patient, but which were a comfort to Annie, as were all the signs of her friends’ concern.

  Others in the Rows had fallen ill. The Gibson household was the worst affected in Salem Street, perhaps because of Emily’s sloppy ways and their poor dietary habits. Little Edward died of the scarlet fever after a very few days and Peggy soon became grievously ill. When Tom brought the news of Edward’s death, Annie stared at him glassily through eyes gritty and burning from lack of sleep. She seemed not to understand what he was saying, or not to care.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

  “Yes. Edward’s dead. I’m sorry. But I can do nothing for them. I must keep my strength up for William. He shan’t die, too! He shan’t!”

  He thought she seemed almost like a mad woman.

  Although the rash faded, William didn’t get any better. His ears hurt him and his body was still burning hot to the touch. Nothing seemed to reduce his temperature for long and after a while it became obvious that he could not take much more of this. Annie insisted on sitting up with him at night, afraid that he might slip away during the dark hours if she were not with him.

  One night, when William was at a very low ebb, she drove Kathy forcibly up to bed, but allowed Tom to stay with her. They were later joined by Jeremy Lewis, who had come from Number Three. One look at William and he abandoned any idea of telling Annie that her little half-sister was dead and that Emily was now down with the influenza.

  “I’ll stay,” he said abruptly. “I may be of some help to you. The boy can’t go on like this. Why don’t you go and get some sleep, Tom? You’ll be in a better state to help Annie later if you do.”

  After a bit of persuasion, Tom agreed. “I wouldn’t leave you on your own, our Annie,” he mumbled apologetically, “but I’m dead on me feet an’ as long as you’ve got the doctor …”

  “You go.”

  Annie and Jeremy worked together on the boy, sponging down his burning, emaciated body to try to reduce the fever. In spite of a sleeping draught, he still had bouts of wild delirium, thrashing around and begging them to pull him out of the fire.

  A little after midnight, when they had got William temporarily quietened down, Annie suddenly collapsed in tears. “I can’t – he’s not going to …” she sobbed incoherently, feeling that she could not go on any longer like this. Jeremy could not help folding her in his arms and holding her close.

  “Shhh, my love, shh!” He rained kisses on her wet cheeks.

  She clung to him, forgetting everything in her terror for her son and her need for comfort and reassurance.

  “Oh, Jeremy, I can’t t-take any more. He’ll die and what’ll I do without him? I love him so! I don’t care how I got him, I love him and I c-can’t bear it if he …” Her sobs redoubled.

  Gradually her hysteria subsided and she relaxed in his arms. “I shouldn’t …” she whispered.

&
nbsp; “We’re hurting no one. And as you said the other day, that’s what friends are for. You’re not alone.” She managed the ghost of a smile as he threw her own words back at her. She laid her head against his chest and sighed tiredly, then jerked up.

  “It’s gone quiet. William …”

  They turned back to the boy, now lying still and white on the makeshift bed. Jeremy put Annie gently aside and felt for his patient’s pulse, more fearful for her than for the boy.

  She stood frozen to the spot, hardly able to breathe. After a long-drawn-out moment, when she held on to consciousness only by a last thread of willpower, Jeremy turned to her and smiled. “It’s all right,” he said, near to tears of joy himself. “He’s still very weak, but he’s breathing more easily, his pulse is slower and his forehead’s cooler. The fever’s broken, Annie; William’s turned the corner.”

  She crumpled to the floor as a roaring blackness overwhelmed her and it was several minutes before she regained consciousness.

  “William’s all right,” Jeremy told her gently as soon as he could see that she understood what was happening. “He’s weak, he’ll need careful nursing, but he has a good chance now. Oh, my love, don’t cry!” He held her to him, kissing her hair, murmuring endearments.

  After a moment she pushed him away and said in a low voice, “Jeremy, this can’t be. You’re a married man and anyway, I don’t – I can’t love you in that way.”

  He stiffened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

  Her heart ached for the loneliness that radiated from him and she put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Jeremy, I hope we can stay friends. You’ve been such a good friend to me, to all my family.”

  He was staring blindly across the room, but his voice was almost normal. “Yes. Friends it is, Annie.”