Outcast

by Josephine Cox

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mother!’ Gregory bent to kiss the wizened cheek. ‘Emma is everything I say. You’ll see. You’ll come to love her as I do.’ He was greatly relieved to see the old woman’s change of heart, and he believed above all else that his mother would come to bless the day when Emma came to live under this roof as his own darling wife. God had been good to him, and he would strive to be as loving and dutiful a husband, as he had always been a son.

  Emma also was glad of Mrs Denton’s change of heart. It had been so sudden and unexpected that it had at first worried her. But then she reasoned that the old woman must be prone to such swift changes of mood, for Gregory seemed to have accepted it and of course, he knew his mother better than she did. No doubt, in time she would get used to old Mrs Denton’s ways – though, in all truth, she had not taken to her, and would never go out of her way to keep close company with the old woman.

  As they climbed aboard the carriage for the journey back to Breckleton House, Emma began to think she was fortunate in finding such a champion as Gregory, who was kind and thoughtful in every way. And though there were many things she would change if given the chance, Emma was gradually coming to accept the deep and generous affection Gregory Denton had for her. She would make him as good a wife as she knew how – working at it that much harder because she knew she could never love him in the way she loved Marlow Tanner. Emma consoled herself with the belief that, because of her marriage to Gregory, Marlow would be safe. I am doing the right thing, she thought. But the deeper she thought, the more curious she became about the old feud between her papa and the river-people. There was something sinister about it, Emma knew – something ominous that rose like a phantom between her and Marlow. In marrying Gregory and removing Marlow from Caleb Crowther’s antagonism, Emma trusted that this phantom would no longer haunt either her or Marlow. The thought gave her a small feeling of contentment.

  Too trusting! Mrs Manfred thought, as she gave Emma a quiet sideways glance on their way back to Breckleton House. You’re too trusting, Emma, my girl! But, you’ll be all right, child . . . because I’ll never be far away.

  Upstairs in the house on Montague Street, old Mrs Denton watched from the window as Gregory said goodbye to his darling Emma and her companion. She ached with bitterness when she saw the look on his face, so filled with love. She recalled the way he had stood up to her, defending that Grady creature with the ferocity of a tigress defending its cubs. She recollected his words which were etched on her heart: ‘I shall be bringing her here to live . . . But, only for as long as it takes for us to buy our own home!’ But she had cleverly put paid to that idea by her devious little display. It had been a damned hard thing to do, but she was determined. Nobody would ever take her son away from under this roof. There wasn’t a soul alive who she would ever allow to part her from her darling Gregory – not even Emma Grady!

  As Gregory waved the carriage out of sight, Doreen Denton murmured venomously through clenched teeth, ‘So, Gregory, you think I’ll come to love her, do you? Never! Not while there’s a breath left in this old body of mine! Oh, but I’ll do what needs to be done, to keep you here, where you belong.’ She hurriedly climbed back into bed, contriving to look suitably exhausted for when her devoted son mounted the stairs to fetch her some refreshment.

  There was something else niggling her also. She’d seen this Emma Grady before, she was sure of it. But where? Where? It would come to her – one of these days it would come to her.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Lord love an’ save us, Marlow Tanner, will yer never go to bed?’ Sal Tanner squeezed her way through the narrow doorway which led from her sleeping cabin into the living area. She had been suffering a restless night herself, but for very different reasons than those of her brother. Firstly, the sound of his footsteps pacing up and down with increasing agitation, had prevented her from falling easily into a slumber; then, when she had eventually managed to close her eyes, the wind had picked up into a mad frenzy – shifting and thrashing the barge about until she gave up all attempts at getting a good night’s sleep. ‘It’s like the bloody divil’s ’aving a party underneath us!’ she complained with a shake of her tousled head.

  ‘Aw, Sal . . . I’m sorry if I’ve upset your night’s sleep,’ Marlow apologized, coming to put his arms about her and leading her to the narrow seat which was fixed round the corner beside the small black stove. ‘Sit yourself down here, and I’ll fetch you a hot drink.’ He was wonderfully patient as she laboriously made her way on slow faltering footsteps, for, since her accident, neither her leg nor her nerves had fully recovered. Still, she was in finer form than the week before, and Marlow knew she’d be in even better form as the weeks went by. Smiling to himself at her merry abuse of him now, Marlow eased her on to the seat. Then, going to the small bench beneath the porthole, he lifted the hinged lid and withdrew from it a thick grey blanket, which he wrapped tightly around his sister’s ample form. Next he stoked up the stove with the small coke pieces from the nearby scuttle, and, seeing that the fire was going well, he went into the galley to fetch a small pan of water. By the time he had gone back into the galley and returned with two sizeable mugs, into which he’d spilled a good helping of tea, sugar and milk, the water was boiling. In another moment he was seated beside his sister, each of them warming their hands around the hot, comforting mugs, with their faithful dog, Jake, stretched out at their feet, indignant at having been disturbed from his night’s sleep.

  Pretending to sip the scalding-hot liquid, Sal gave her brother a crafty but concerned sideways look. God above, she thought, how tortured he looks. In all the time since their parents had been tragically taken from them, Sal could not remember ever seeing Marlow so badly troubled. And, oh she loved him so much that to see it now tore her apart. So deeply affected by his heartache was she, that Sal had to swallow several times in order to melt that great hard lump which was stuck hard in her throat, preventing the words she wanted to say from coming out. Even when she did manage to speak, the tears which were threatening to fall, trembled in her voice, ‘Aw lad, will yer stop punishing yerself?’ she asked, ‘Can yer not see what it’s doing to yer?’

  At once, suddenly aware that Sal had been closely watching him, and anxious not to be questioned on matters too painful to discuss, Marlow’s expression changed. When he turned his eyes to her, they were smiling, and the answer he gave was not the one he truly felt in his heart. ‘The only thing wrong with me is a sister who will insist on reading the darkest things into the smallest upset!’ he told her in a chastising voice.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Sal Tanner knew that she’d subtly been told to mind her own business, however gently it had been put. ‘Keep me long nose out? That’s what yer telling me, ain’t it, yer bugger?’ she laughed, although the laugh lacked merriment. ‘All right, fella-me-lad, I’ll not mek matters worse by harping on at yer,’ she conceded, unable to stop herself from adding, ‘Aw but lad, it’ll do yer no good to keep baying fer the moon, yer do know that, don’t yer?’ She waited for an answer, her troubled eyes never leaving his face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Sal.’ Marlow put down his mug on the small round hearth, and giving a deep inner sigh, patted the back of his sister’s hand, saying with a brighter smile, ‘I may be wanting the moon . . . but I’d be a bloody fool to think I could ever have it! I know that, sweetheart. And it’s only a matter of coming to terms with it.’ With this, he put his arm around her and drew her near to him. They stayed like this for a while, Marlow concerned that he was causing his sister to fret about him, and Sal, although comforted by his embrace, was still disturbed because she had never seen her brother in such a quiet, distant mood. Yet, she knew Marlow to be an honourable and sensible man and it was these very qualities which she counted on now. For, however much he loved Emma Grady and longed for her to be his, Sal Tanner knew that Marlow would never pursue her once she had made her marriage vows to another man. And that day couldn’t come quickly enough for Sal Tanner, because there was nev
er more heartache caused than when two men craved the same woman, and she wanted only one.

  In her heart, Sal gave thanks that Emma Grady had made her choice and promised herself to the Denton fellow; for Marlow was fooling himself in hoping that the likes of her would ever give her favours to a bargee. Indeed, Gregory Denton was not as high up as the Crowthers, but neither was he as low down as the mill-hands and bargees who worked beneath him. He evidently had both the seal of approval of Caleb Crowther and the devotion of Emma Grady. The thing was settled, and, as far as Sal Tanner was concerned, it had been settled the right way – though she would never be so callous as to declare such a thing out loud in Marlow’s presence. But in time he would come to see this for himself, she hoped. Until then, she must guard her tongue.

  Of a sudden, Marlow stood up, saying in a cheerful voice, ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow. I’ve to ferry a cargo of fowl from Liverpool to Lancaster, so, what say if I take you round the market afterwards . . . I need a new stout pair of boots, and you can choose that curtain material you’ve been going on about these past weeks.’ It was a deliberate ploy to change the subject, and also to compensate for his sister having been laid up in this cramped barge for such a long time, with little else to occupy her mind but his business.

  ‘That’ll be right grand!’ Sal Tanner was at once enthused by the idea. ‘Over four years them curtains ’ave been at them there winders . . . an’ if I wash the buggers just once more, they’ll end up in tatters!’ Now, she was on her feet, tugging at the worn floral curtains and addressing Jake, who peered up with only half-awake, droopy eyes. ‘Blue ’uns, I think,’ she said, ‘bright blue ’uns, wi’out flowers on.’ She made her way back to the cabin, muttering to herself, and, just before disappearing through the narrow doorway, she turned to tell the bemused Marlow, ‘Nothin’ wi’ green on! We don’t want to upset the little folk. Well . . . unless there’s some right grand material there, an’ nothin’ else ter choose from, eh? But if it’s got any green in it at all . . . we must ask permission from the little people first. Oh, yes!’ Even after she was out of sight, Marlow could hear his sister’s voice, low and reverent, and he knew she was talking to the ‘little people’ – asking them whether she might be allowed to choose a material which had a little green in it.

  Later, as he stood at the window in his own berth, from where he gazed out across the water, Marlow found himself smiling at Sal’s fervent belief that the colour green was most precious to the ‘little people’, and that anyone using it, wearing it or keeping it without their permission, would be horribly punished. It was a peculiar belief of Sal’s which went as far back as Marlow could remember. But Sal had always been that bit different from anybody else he’d ever known; eccentric some folks called her. Whatever her little quirks and fancies though, she had a heart of gold and she was all the family he had, and if anybody was ever to cause her harm, he’d tear them limb from limb!

  Marlow was a man of deep loyalties and great passion. And now, as he watched the wind churning up the waters outside, he felt his own heart churning over and over with his memories of Emma. Sal was right, he thought, he might just as well be crying for the moon. He had heard from her own lips her declaration of love for Gregory Denton. Yet Marlow would have laid down his life in the belief that it was he whom she really loved. Had he really been fooling himself when he’d seen that same look in her eyes that was in his own? When his mouth had covered hers and she had trembled in his arms, was he so wrong in feeling their hearts beat as one? Could a man be so misted and blinded by his own love that he should imagine such a thing? Dear God! How could he tell? What else could he be guided by if his own instincts proved him wrong? The more Marlow tortured himself for an answer, the more he realized that only Emma herself could confirm or deny what he felt in his heart; only she could raise or dash his hopes. But Emma had told him that she loved the man who would soon be her husband; she had begged him to leave her be; and Marlow knew that, however much it grieved him, he had to respect her wish. Nothing good ever came of a man forcing himself on a woman – particularly a woman so soon to be wed. Oh, but it was a hard thing to do! And even harder for Marlow was the thought of remaining in these parts once Emma had become Mrs Gregory Denton.

  Of a sudden, Marlow thought he and Sal might sell off the barge and go to America – the land of opportunity they called it. But then he considered how Sal would react to such a proposition, and his hopes were dashed. Sal did not possess such a spirit of adventure as he. She was a home-loving soul who wanted no more than a fire with which to warm her outside, and a bottle of booze to warm her inside. They were both born and bred river-folk, but, whereas he would now be tempted to sail the seven seas, Sal would never leave the shores of old England, not for all the treasure in the world. Marlow knew this, and though it might curtail the boundaries of his own existence, he loved her nonetheless. He was bound by his love for the sister who had selflessly raised him. He was also bound, and even more deeply, by his hopeless love for Emma. He could no more suppress the love he felt for her than he could graciously accept her rejection of him – however much he might wish otherwise.

  ‘I wish you were coming with me, Manny.’ Emma lifted the hem of her wedding gown and, seeing that Mrs Manfred had gathered together her sewing paraphernalia, stepped down from the stool, at once beginning to feverishly strip the ivory silk gown from her body as though its very touch was unbearable to her skin.

  ‘Stuff and nonsense, Miss Grady!’ declared Mrs Manfred, easing her aching back into the chair and frowning as Emma carelessly flung the expensive wedding gown over the bed. ‘Don’t be so rough with that dress!’ she chided, at the same time dropping her sewing basket to the floor and adding in a weary tone, ‘Twice they’ve had the blessed thing back, and still they can’t get it to sit right on you, child! I did tell Mrs Crowther that it would save time and money to let me make the alterations in the first place.’ She blew out her cheeks in exasperation, ‘And here we are . . . the very evening afore your wedding, and it’s all rush and push!’ She scraped the straying locks from her face and seemed to visibly sag.

  ‘That gown will never feel right,’ Emma interrupted. Then, having put on her nightgown, she came to sit cross-legged at the older woman’s feet. ‘It isn’t the dress, Manny . . . it’s me !’ she said in a quiet, forlorn voice.

  ‘Come here, child,’ said Mrs Manfred, holding out her arms as Emma gratefully leaned into them. ‘Tell me what’s playing so heavy on your mind. This past week you’ve seemed to be miles away.’

  ‘I sometimes wish I was miles away,’ replied Emma, feeling cheered by Mrs Manfred’s comforting presence, but growing more and more dismayed by the fact that from tomorrow, when she left this house as Gregory Denton’s wife, these long intimate talks with this darling woman could, never again be taken for granted. ‘Oh, Manny!’ she said now, her eyes sorrowful as they looked up to that kindly face, ‘I shall miss you so very much.’

  ‘Away with you, Miss Grady!’ came the retort, ‘You’ll be that busy as Mrs Denton . . . what with being a wife and running a house, together with making new friends and afore long, looking forward to being with child.’ Here, she smiled warmly and gave Emma an extra tight hug. ‘Well . . . there’ll be little time left for missing anybody, I can tell you!’ She became nostalgic as she thought of times long gone, of a husband she had lost, of the children she never had, and her eyes grew misty. ‘Be happy, child,’ she said softly, stroking the girl’s hair, ‘you must try to be happy.’

  Emma wondered about Mrs Manfred’s past, for it was something the dear lady had always been reluctant to discuss. Yet, seeing how deeply affected she seemed, Emma felt obliged to ask, ‘Were you happy, Manny . . . with your husband? Were you very much in love on the day of your wedding?’

  ‘Bless you, of course not!’ came the surprised reply. ‘It was a rare thing for a lass to be in love with the man she married. Often, she had little say in who it was to be . . . very much the same as you. Circumsta
nces prevailed and convenience was more important than whether or not the two loved each other. Oh, but, I can tell you Miss Grady that you do grow to love a man over the years.’ With this she paused and gazed into Emma’s uplifted eyes with deliberation. When she spoke again, her voice was soft but serious. ‘Tomorrow you’ll stand in God’s church and you’ll be asked to give yourself to the man who stands beside you. When you make your vows, it can’t be just your voice that speaks . . . it must also come from the heart. There will only be room in your heart for one man – and that man must be your husband. From the moment you give those vows, you give yourself also, all of yourself, mind and body, to Gregory Denton.’ Cupping Emma’s small troubled face between the palms of her hands, she asked meaningfully, ‘You do know what I’m saying, child, don’t you?’

  Emma was left in no doubt as to what Mrs Manfred was saying. What she was telling her was that she must put Marlow Tanner out of her heart for ever! She was stressing the purity of the marriage vows Emma was shortly to take, and the total commitment they demanded. Mrs Manfred was warning Emma, but Emma could also sense the older woman’s fear. Yet, she need not be afraid, thought Emma, for hadn’t she herself gone over it all again and again these past weeks? Hadn’t she tormented herself and questioned the rapid sequence of events which were taking her along at such frightening speed that she could hardly catch her breath? Didn’t she know how serious, and demanding, and final were the vows which she would utter in that church tomorrow, before God and before Gregory? And wasn’t she all too painfully aware of how, in that moment, she would be called on to ban all thoughts of Marlow Tanner from her mind? Never again must she think of him; never again must she indulge herself in her memories of that splendid, radiant smile which lit up her heart as nothing else could; never again must she close her eyes and listen to the soft murmur of his voice which caused her heart to tremble so. Those dark, laughing eyes and the feel of his strong arms about her . . . that wonderful, exquisite sensation when his mouth had covered her own in a kiss which had spread its pleasure throughout every corner of her being. These things would all be forbidden her. In their place would be Gregory, a kind and gentle man who, Emma knew, loved her perhaps in a way she would never deserve. But she would try with all her heart.