Down Weaver's Lane

by Anna Jacobs

  Babs taught her to laugh, too, in spite of the way she was missing Jack. Babs even made Mrs Dalby laugh sometimes.

  In early December, when Emmy had been there for a month, a letter arrived which threw the household into a great fuss. Mrs Dalby’s son, Edward, was coming to stay for a few days.

  Babs rolled her eyes. ‘It’s all a lot of to-do about nothing. Master Edward never stays for long and spends half his time visiting old friends and relatives. She loves to see him, though, and it’ll put her in a good mood for days.’

  ‘What’s he like? And why do you call him “Master Edward” like that?’

  Babs grimaced. ‘Because for all he’s over thirty, he’s spoiled and acts like a child half the time, wanting this, wanting that. He never seems like a grown man to me somehow. He’s not half as nice as his father was, that’s for sure, an’ he talks in a plummy way, looks down his nose at us servants. He’s not married and the mistress is always trying to find him a wife. Fair makes me laugh, that does. You’ll see. There’ll be lots of visitors while he’s here - ‘specially them with unmarried daughters - but I’ve heard him say he don’t intend to wed till he’s forty an’ too old to have a good time.’ She sniffed. ‘We all know what sort of a “good time” he means, don’t we?’ She winked at Emmy.

  ‘He doesn’t pester the maids, does he?’

  ‘Bless you, no. Just let him try. I’d soon give him what for.’

  But Emmy looked at Babs’s plump face and frizzy hair, then across at Cook, solidly built and approaching fifty, and the old fear came creeping back. She wished she’d been born plain. It’d make life a lot easier.

  Edward Dalby arrived the next day. He was tall and lean, with features that looked too wide for his face, so that he was all eyes and mouth. When he smiled he looked a bit better, Emmy thought, but it worried her that he kept staring at her.

  ‘I don’t want the mistress thinking I’m trying to encourage him,’ she muttered to Babs as they cleared up the kitchen together on the second evening of his stay.

  ‘He has been gawping at you,’ Babs agreed, frowning. ‘The mistress hasn’t had a maid as young and pretty as you before.’ She studied Emmy, head on one side. ‘You’re a right lovely lass, though you allus look a bit sad.’

  Emmy shrugged. ‘I’m still missing my old friends.’

  ‘Or one old friend in particular?’ When Emmy’s colour deepened still further, Babs teased, ‘I don’t know why you don’t go back to that fellow of yours, I really don’t.’

  Emmy hesitated, then asked in a voice that shook slightly, ‘You don’t think Mr Dalby will try anything on, do you? Only he makes me feel nervous the way he looks at me.’

  Babs considered this, lips pursed. ‘I don’t know. Never seen him like this before, I must admit. Tell you what, though, you can come and sleep in my room while he’s here. We can put your mattress on the floor and the mistress need never know about it. Cook won’t say anything.’

  The next night the maids were late going to bed because of all the extra work of a dinner party. As Emmy was about to get undressed, Babs said, ‘Psst! Listen.’

  A moment later they heard footsteps creeping up the attic stairs.

  Emmy froze. ‘Babs!’

  Her friend made a shushing sound and they continued to listen as someone - it could only be Mr Edward - opened the door of Emmy’s room.

  A minute later the same footsteps were heard going back down the stairs.

  ‘Well, I’ll be blowed!’ Babs muttered. ‘The cheek of it. In his mother’s house, too. You’d better sleep in here till he goes, love.’

  ‘I shan’t feel safe while he’s in the house.’ Emmy could not believe this was happening to her again. What had she ever done to encourage these attentions? Who did these men think they were to pester her like this?

  ‘Oh, you’ll be all right in the kitchen during the daytime. He never comes back there.’

  But after Cook had gone out for her morning constitutional, which only snowy weather ever prevented, the mistress sent Babs to buy some embroidery thread, then went out shortly afterwards herself to call on a friend who lived just down the road.

  Realising she was alone in the house with him, Emmy began to worry.

  Not long afterwards she heard footsteps coming along the passage towards the kitchen. Glancing wildly round for something to defend herself with, she saw the meat mallet and put it near her.

  He came in whistling. ‘Ah, Emmy, how about making me a cup of tea?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. If you’d like to wait in the parlour, I’ll bring it through to you.’

  His voice became softer. ‘But I’d rather wait here with you. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in years. It’s a pleasure just to look at you.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘I don’t like it when you talk that way, sir.’

  ‘Of course you do! All girls like to be told they’re pretty. And you’re wasted working as a maid. Haven’t you ever thought of doing something else?’ He took another step towards her, his voice low and persuasive. ‘I could set you up in a nice little house in Manchester and we could have some fun together. There’s lots to see and do there. I’d be generous with you.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m a respectable girl.’ She moved back but he followed. When she bumped into the table and could go no further, she begged, ‘Don’t, sir. Please!’

  ‘Why, Emmy, I do believe you’re nervous. I’d never hurt you, surely you realise that? I want to love you and—’

  As he took yet another step, she snatched up the meat mallet and held it threateningly in front of her, shouting, ‘I’m not like that.’ But her hand was shaking because this had brought back the memory of the night when Marcus Armistead had her trapped in the bed.

  Edward Dalby stopped moving and frowned at her. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said, sounding surprised.

  She couldn’t move, felt panic-stricken and kept seeing Marcus’s face, not Mr Edward’s.

  ‘Emmy, it’s all right. Emmy!’

  His voice was so loud, she jumped in shock and saw with relief that he’d taken a couple of steps back.

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean to frighten you. You can’t blame a fellow for asking, but I’d never do anything you didn’t want. Come and sit down a minute, you’re as white as a sheet.’

  She shook her head. She wasn’t going an inch closer to him and she wasn’t putting down the meat mallet till he’d left.

  At that moment Babs breezed into the kitchen, carrying a small parcel and talking even before she got through the door. But her voice trailed away as she took in the scene in the kitchen and the terror on Emmy’s face. She rounded on Edward Dalby, crying, ‘Shame on you, Mr Edward! Look how you’ve frightened her. What have you been doing to her?’

  ‘I haven’t laid a finger on her, I only -’ he shrugged and tried to make a joke of it ‘—offered to set her up in a nice little house in Manchester.’

  ‘Your mother’s maid! Very gentlemanly behaviour, that is.’

  ‘There’s no harm done and no need to tell my mother. She’ll take it the wrong way. Just as Emmy did. It was meant as a compliment.’

  ‘That sort of offer isn’t a compliment to a decent girl,’ Babs told him roundly, going to stand between him and Emmy and glaring at him. ‘And now, sir, if you’ll leave the kitchen, we’ll get on with our work. And we’d be grateful if you didn’t climb the attic stairs tonight.’

  He flushed and turned round, feeling annoyed to have been treated as if he’d done something wrong. It was a compliment to offer to set up a common girl like that. And if Carter had had any sense she’d have accepted and made some good money for herself. He was always generous with his mistresses.

  His anger mounted as Babs treated him with icy disdain from then onwards and Emmy avoided going anywhere near him. In the end he decided to leave a day early.

  Jack thought long and hard about how to find Emmy. In his lunch hour he went to see Parson, but Mr Bradley refused to tell him where she wa
s, except to say she’d found a new position and was safe. He also added a lecture about it being for the best.

  Jack said firmly, ‘It’s not for the best, sir, and I shall never get over her.’

  Outside he paused to stroke the dog. Hercules got excited every time he saw Jack, but was still moping. Giving the dog a final pat, he made his way down Weavers Lane to the bank, utterly determined to find Emmy.

  He looked so fierce as he insisted on seeing Mr Garrett that the teller gave in and took him straight through to his master.

  ‘I’m looking for Emmy Carter,’ Jack said without preamble. ‘I want to marry her. I think you know where she’s gone.’ He had found out that the banker had left town before dawn on the same morning as Emmy had vanished. Gentry never set off at such an early hour. It had to be connected.

  ‘Jack, believe me, I sympathise with you, but I can tell you nothing. I won’t break my promise to Emmy and besides, Parson and I feel she has done the right thing - the only thing - for everyone concerned.’

  Jack glared at him. ‘I don’t happen to agree and I’ll find her with or without your help because I’ll not stop looking until I do.’ He turned and walked out, furious that they were conspiring to keep him from Emmy.

  As he hurried back to the mill, he saw a carriage coming down the hill and in it Marcus Armistead. The man was looking so smug and self-satisfied that Jack stood and scowled at the vehicle. It wasn’t fair that a wicked fellow could get away with ruining honest folk’s lives, just because he was rich.

  An hour later Mr Butterfield placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘What’s wrong, Jack?’

  He sighed. ‘They know where Emmy is and they’re trying to keep me from seeing her.’

  ‘There are other young women, you know,’ Isaac said gently. He held up one hand. ‘I know, I know. First love can be very painful. But there are other reasons for marrying, reasons that make more sense financially.’ He stared into space and dropped the first hint. ‘I myself have two daughters, both of whom will have decent dowries to bring to the young man who marries them. A thousand pounds each.’

  But Jack didn’t even hear what he was saying. He thought vaguely that it was kind of Mr Butterfield to try to cheer him up when everyone knew the head clerk has his own troubles. They said his wife was up half the night sometimes, yelling and shouting. That he had to give her laudanum to calm her down.

  Edward Dalby was relieved to get back to Manchester, but could not get the pretty maid out of his mind. The cheek of it, turning down a good offer like that! And treating him as if he’d done something wrong in making it. The annoyance festered and one evening, when he was drinking with a few of his friends, it spilled out.

  Marcus Armistead laughed. ‘Why don’t you simply take matters into your own hands and kidnap the girl? Once the deed is done and she finds out how much you’re willing to pay her, she’ll soon change her tune.’

  Edward was a bit startled by this suggestion. ‘That’s a bit thick, isn’t it? I mean, this is England, not the Barbary Coast. You don’t go round kidnapping girls and forcing them into your bed.’

  ‘Then stop moping and find yourself a more willing mistress,’ Marcus replied, thinking him a fool. ‘In the stews of Manchester there are dozens of pretty girls who’d be more than willing to accommodate you. And some of them are nearly virgins.’

  The men round the table burst out laughing.

  ‘Go to The Golden Swan,’ one advised. ‘They’ve got the best girls in town there, willing to accommodate all a chap’s needs.’

  ‘Bit pricey there, what?’ another said.

  ‘Worth it, though. Dashed obliging girls.’

  Edward sighed. ‘Trouble is, I can’t get Emmy out of my mind.’

  Marcus stiffened. ‘Emmy?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what she’s called.’

  ‘Light brown hair, curly, big blue eyes, trim figure, very pretty indeed?’

  ‘Yes.’ He stared at Marcus. ‘You sound as if you know her.’

  ‘Mmm. Surname’s Carter, isn’t it?’

  Edward thumped the table. ‘That’s the one! How the hell do you know her?’

  Marcus grinned. ‘Because she used to be my mistress. Her uncle took her away from me and hid her somewhere. She didn’t go with him willingly, either.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like the same girl. She started to tremble when I tried to kiss her. She definitely wasn’t making that up.’

  Marcus laughed for a very long time, then shook his head. ‘She’s still at it then, egging fellows on without seeming to. That’s how she caught me. Best little actress in town, that one is.’

  ‘Then what the hell is she doing slaving for my mother?’

  ‘Who knows? Perhaps she’s trying respectability for a change. After all, it’s not every girl who can have a second try at being a virgin, is it?’ He let the laughter die down and changed the subject easily. The rest of the evening passed in drinking and then half the members of the group made a visit to The Golden Swan.

  Marcus made sure to leave the whore house at the same time as Edward Dalby and walk to the cab rank with him. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you were saying. Look, Emmy’s not the sort of girl I’d like to have working for my mother. Are you sure you should leave her there? I mean, if she goes off the rails again, well, your mother could be seriously embarrassed by her behaviour.’

  ‘I’d never thought of that, but you’re right. I’ll write to Mother straight away. No, better still, I’ll go and see her this weekend.’ The idea caught Edward’s fancy, for he was still smarting from the way the two maids had treated him.

  The following Saturday Edward Dalby arrived in Carbury unannounced and when Emmy opened the door she gasped in shock at the sight of him.

  ‘You may well gasp, young lady!’ he said, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her into his mother’s parlour.

  Mrs Dalby uttered a squeak of shock and pressed one hand to her breast when her son erupted into the room, dragging a protesting Emmy behind him.

  He threw the girl to her knees on the rug and stood over her, enjoying the fear on her face. He’d teach the bitch to reject his offer like that!

  ‘It’s come to my attention that this young woman is no better than she ought to be,’ he announced dramatically, folding his arms.

  Emmy scrambled to her feet and retired behind the sofa. ‘It’s not true, Mrs Dalby! I don’t know why he’s saying this.’

  ‘Edward dear, do you have to be so violent? You’ve given me palpitations now. Emmy, go and fetch me some of my cordial and then bring us some tea. Edward, sit down and let us talk about this quietly. I’m sure you’re mistaken.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ He moved to prevent Emmy leaving the room. ‘She’s going nowhere, Mother, until I throw her out of your house.’

  Emmy was getting angry in her turn. ‘Why are you saying this? It’s not true. You don’t know anything about me.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, don’t I? Well, does the name Marcus Armistead mean anything to you?’

  She froze, staring at him as that hated name echoed in her head. She couldn’t believe Marcus had managed to track her down and was still trying to ruin her.

  Her expression convinced him that Marcus had been telling the truth and his anger flared even higher. ‘You see, Mother! She does know him.’

  ‘He—’

  ‘Be quiet, you slut! To think that my mother employed a creature like you in her house.’

  Mrs Dalby stared at him in horror. ‘Edward dear, how can you be sure? I promise you, Emmy has done nothing but work hard and cheerfully, and I simply can’t believe—’

  ‘I know because she used to be his mistress. Her uncle took her away from him and put her back to work with you.’

  His mother stared at him then looked at Emmy, her expression uncertain.

  ‘It isn’t true,’ Emmy said, loudly and emphatically. ‘Marcus Armistead tried to kidnap me and I hit him over the head when I escaped. Since then he’s been pursuing me
to get his revenge.’

  ‘Marcus Armistead?’ Edward laughed loudly. ‘I rather think if my friend had kidnapped you, you’d have stayed kidnapped. He’s a very smart fellow, not to mention a respected member of Manchester trading circles and a gentleman of property. And you, young woman, are leaving this house immediately.’ When his mother would have spoken he held up one hand. ‘No, Mother. Father is no longer here to protect you and it’s my duty to keep an eye on things.’

  ‘But it’s nearly dark and she can’t—’

  ‘She’ll be quite at home on the streets at night, believe me.’ Besides, he intended to follow Emmy and make his offer again, rather more forcibly this time. She might be a bit more grateful and if she wasn’t, he might just take Marcus’s advice.

  ‘He’s lying to you,’ Emmy said to her mistress, tears of mingled anger and shame streaming down her face that she should be treated like this. ‘But if you believe him, I’ll go back to Parson Bradley’s house. I beg you to let me stay here till morning, though, ma’am. I’m not at home on the streets, whatever your son says.’

  But Edward was furious at being contradicted in front of his mother and annoyed that Emmy had stopped cringing away from him. He wanted her afraid and grateful. So he grabbed her shoulder and frog-marched her out of the room, saying loudly, ‘Out, you!’

  After a moment’s shock she began to struggle and scream, ‘Help! Help!’ feeling sure he meant no good.

  Babs erupted out of the kitchen followed by Cook, to watch open-mouthed as Edward tried to force the still screaming Emmy up the stairs.

  Mrs Dalby tottered to the door. ‘My cordial!’ she gasped.

  ‘What’s he doing to Emmy?’ Babs demanded, ignoring her mistress’s request.

  ‘Taking her to pack her bags, throwing her out. It appears she’s - well, not a good girl.’

  ‘Emmy Carter? I don’t believe it. And I’m not leaving him alone with her, either, not if you dismiss me for it. Your son, ma’am, tried to creep into her bedroom last time he was here - against her wishes. This is just to get his own back on her for refusing.’ Babs ran up the stairs before her astonished mistress could stop her.