Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  ‘Ella and Joe,’ Jonathan corrected.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Mabel’s lower lip stuck out petulantly.

  Kate stopped, had a couple of words with Mr Overton and left the church.

  ‘If you’d excuse me, Miss Puttock,’ Jonathan said. ‘Mrs Delaney will have dinner ready so I ought to be heading home. Good day.’

  Without waiting for her to speak Jonathan strode down the aisle and out of the church.

  Mabel’s fair eyebrows pulled together tightly as she watched Jonathan stride down the centre of the church. How rude. She ought to be very cross with him for such ungentlemanly behaviour, but then why wouldn’t he furious at being accosted like that?

  Why on earth couldn’t that insufferable Kate Ellis just give him a deferential nod, as she should, instead of striking up a conversation? And just as she was about to ask him to dinner.

  Of course, Jonathan was too fine a gentleman to cut Kate Ellis dead as she deserved. Perhaps commanding riff-raff in the army had made him a little too affably disposed to the lower orders.

  She sighed, pulled on her gloves and swept down the aisle towards the main doors. She commended Mr Overton on his sermon and walked out of the church into the bright early summer sunlight where many of the congregation were still milling around.

  She adjusted the brim of her bonnet to shade her face and was just about to start for home when she caught sight of Jonathan heading for the back exit from the churchyard.

  Perhaps all was not lost. If she cut along the path to the rectory, she would be able to reach the side gate ahead of him.

  Gathering her skirts, she sped around, emerging on the other side of the church. Her shoulders relaxed. Jonathan hadn’t arrived yet.

  Mabel dusted herself down and, assuming an air of quiet contemplation, she gazed down at an old headstone. After she’d read Bridget Shanahan’s inscription for the third time, she ventured a quick glance around.

  Where on earth was he? She took a couple of steps along the path before she stopped dead in her tracks. He was there standing behind the solid square column of Raine’s monument. Alongside him stood Kate Ellis. He was holding her hand and she gazed up at him. They were clearly not talking about the service.

  Mabel’s blood turned to ice. She jumped back and took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart and throbbing temples.

  For a moment she stood motionless as fury gripped her and then, making sure they couldn’t see her, Mabel picked her way through the graves towards the family memorial. She pressed her back against the opposite side of the square column from Jonathan and Kate and held her breath.

  ‘Please, Kate?’ Mabel heard Jonathan say.

  ‘No matter how I feel, Jonathan, I cannot break the vows I made before God.’

  ‘We could go away . . .’

  ‘Oh, Jonathan.’

  ‘I don’t care where or how far, Kate, but . . .’ There was a rustle of clothing.

  Mabel clenched her fist as she imagined the passionate embrace taking place an arm’s reach from where she stood.

  ‘Please, Jonathan. I must go,’ Kate said, breathlessly.

  ‘But, Kate, I need you I—’

  ‘The children will be looking for me. I’m sorry.’

  There was a crunch of gravel. Mabel flattened herself against the rough stone. She stayed there, holding her breath, until they both walked away.

  Jonathan, her Jonathan and Kate Ellis . . . A painful lump lodged in Mabel’s chest. How could he? And with her!

  Her most cherished dream of walking down the aisle on her father’s arm to become Mrs Quinn danced before her eyes and then vanished. Grief flooded over her and for a couple of moments a sobbing hysteria gripped her, shaking her body and drenching her face.

  Mabel stumbled out of the graveyard and ran home. She dashed up the three steps to her front door and hammered on the knocker. Mrs West the housekeeper answered and Mabel strode into the hall. She ripped off her bonnet and threw it on the side table. Mrs West bobbed a quick curtsy and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

  Mrs Puttock came out of the front parlour. ‘What on earth is the matter, sweetheart?’ she asked.

  Mabel turned her tear-stained face away and hurried up the stairs. ‘Nothing, Mama, it’s just a headache, that’s all.’

  ‘Shall I bring you some camomile tea?’ her mother called after her.

  ‘No, Mama, I just need to rest,’ she replied, hoping her mother wouldn’t hear the tremble in her voice.

  At the top of the stairs she rushed along the landing to her bedroom. Staggering in, Mabel collapsed on her bed and sobbed.

  It had puzzled her why he’d been so distant of late. And now she knew.

  Because of her! she thought as her mind conjured up images of Jonathan and Kate Ellis entwined in each other’s arms. She runs a common chop house. For goodness sake!

  Mabel rolled onto her back and stared up at the lacy canopy over her bed. Eliza and Caroline had managed to secure a husband each and had already set the date for their weddings. Even Lottie, who had a nose like a boxer, was betrothed. And until an hour ago Mabel was sure she too would soon be leaving spinsterhood behind.

  Tears welled up again and rolled down her face into her hair.

  Of course, she didn’t blame him. It was her, that Irish Jezebel. It wasn’t his fault and if she hadn’t clouded dear Jonathan’s thinking Mabel knew he would have declared himself. But now she was ruining Mabel’s last chance of marriage. The sound of Jonathan’s voice swearing his undying love for Kate echoed around Mabel’s mind.

  She clenched her fists as fury coursed through her. She sat up and wiped her eyes.

  Jumping off the bed she went to her writing bureau and sat down. She pulled out a sheet of paper and picked up a pen. She jabbed it in the inkwell.

  Kate Ellis might be set to spend eternity in Hell but while there was breath in her body, she, Mabel Puttock, wouldn’t let her take dear Jonathan with her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kate sat in the pew nearest to the vestry in the deserted church looking straight ahead; she forced herself not to fiddle with her skirt fabric. Although it was an ordinary working day she had spent the best part of an hour that morning brushing her Sunday clothes and steaming her hat back into its proper shape. Her outfit now looked as good as new but it didn’t make her feel any better.

  The vestry door opened and Mr Puttock stepped out. He looked her over. ‘We are ready to see you now.’

  With her heart practically lodged in her throat, Kate stood up and followed him into the church’s office. At the far end, ranged behind the desk were Mr Overton, Mr Puttock, Mr Wendover and, on the far right, Jonathan.

  Automatically her eyes fixed on him. She didn’t need to, of course, as his image and his touch lived with her day and night. Although it was dangerous, as others might see her true feelings in her eyes, Kate couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of gazing at him.

  He was looking at her with a mixture of love and pain on his angular face. An unreadable expression flitted across his face and Kate’s heart ached.

  ‘If you would take a seat, Mrs Ellis,’ Mr Puttock said, cutting through her thoughts and indicating a straight-backed chair in front of the table.

  Kate sat and rested her hands on her lap.

  ‘Thank you for arriving promptly, Mrs Ellis,’ Mr Overton said.

  Kate smiled pleasantly as she fought to quell her disquiet. ‘Your note said you wanted to see me on a matter of some importance, sir,’ she said, in as even a voice as she could muster.

  ‘It is indeed,’ Mr Overton replied in his best pulpit voice. ‘I think you know everyone here.’ He waved at his fellow school guardians.

  ‘I do.’ She looked at Mr Puttock – he lowered his eyes but Mr Wendover smirked.

  ‘Unfortunately, Mrs Benson is unable to be with us this afternoon,’ continued the vicar, ‘but Captain Quinn has kindly given up his valuable time to attend in her stead.’ He spread his smooth white hand on the ta
ble before him.

  The knot in Kate’s stomach tightened.

  ‘Mrs Ellis, a very grave matter has been brought to the attention of the school guardians which may, if it proves to be true, oblige us to expel your children from the school.’

  ‘Expel Ella and Joe!’ Kate gasped. ‘But why? What have they done?’

  Mr Overton peered over his glasses. ‘Your children have done nothing. It is your conduct that has caused us to convene this extraordinary meeting, Mrs Ellis. We are here today to investigate a most grievous matter which came to light four days ago when I received this.’ He picked up a folded sheet.

  Kate stared dumbly at the flimsy paper in the vicar’s hand.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Overton,’ Jonathan cut in before the vicar could continue. ‘I would like Mr Puttock to enter into the minutes my strongest objection to this meeting taking place at all.’

  ‘Your objections are duly noted,’ Mr Puttock replied tersely.

  ‘If I may continue, Captain Quinn?’ Mr Overton said.

  Jonathan nodded sharply but his disgruntled expression remained.

  The vicar turned his attention back to Kate. ‘The letter states that you, Mrs Ellis, are deeply embroiled in an adulterous relationship with an unnamed man. Is this true?’

  The floor seemed to shift under Kate’s chair. ‘I . . . I . . .’

  ‘So you don’t deny it?’ Mr Puttock’s voice barked from a long way away.

  Kate forced down her panic. ‘Of course, I do. It’s a lie. Who sent it?’

  ‘Someone too cowardly to sign their name,’ Jonathan replied.

  Mr Wendover glared at Jonathan. ‘Someone who takes the moral welfare of the children in our charge as seriously as we do.’

  ‘But who does so in an underhand way, to prevent Mrs Ellis from facing her accuser,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘But I’m sure you’ll agree we have to question Mrs Ellis,’ Mr Puttock said.

  ‘Question her about what?’ Jonathan replied.

  ‘We need to discover the truth,’ Mr Overton chipped in.

  ‘The truth is, I have not broken my marriage vows,’ Kate said forcefully.

  ‘And, as far as I can see, other than a piece of malicious gossip, there is no evidence that she has,’ Jonathan added, fixing the vicar with an unwavering look. ‘I further propose that as Mrs Ellis has refuted the allegation the whole matter should be dismissed.’

  Mr Overton fiddled with his signet ring. ‘I don’t know . . .’

  ‘While I applaud your sense of fair play, Captain Quinn, you don’t know all the circumstances,’ Mr Wendover said.

  ‘And what circumstances might that be, Mr Wendover?’ Kate asked, as her anger overtook her fear. ‘Haven’t I already said the letter’s a pack of lies?’

  ‘You have, but it is our duty to weigh up all the facts.’ He gave her an oily smile. ‘For example, it is common knowledge you were raised as a follower of Rome and that you were with child when you wed. However, like the true Christian he is, Mr Overton overlooked your lack of virtue when he recommended that your daughter be given a place in St Katharine’s. And of course Captain Quinn, not knowing about your moral frailty or – how can I put it delicately – your husband’s wayward nature, offered your son a place in the school. I’m sure if he’d been aware of the full story he would have come to a different decision.’

  Jonathan’s mouth pulled into a hard line. ‘I’d advise you not to judge me by your own standards, Mr Wendover,’ he replied icily.

  ‘In my experience, there’s no smoke without fire.’ Mr Wendover looked back at Kate and his piggy eyes roamed slowly over her. ‘Who is the man?’

  Although her heart pounded in her chest, Kate managed to maintain her unruffled expression. ‘There is no man,’ she replied firmly.

  ‘Will you swear to that?’ Mr Overton asked, eagerly.

  Kate nodded.

  The vicar’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Well, if you’re prepared to lay your hand on the Good Book and assure us that you are innocent of any wrongdoing, Mrs Ellis, then I for one am prepared to let the matter rest. What say you, gentlemen?’

  Mr Puttock and Mr Wendover muttered their agreement.

  ‘Captain Quinn?’

  ‘I see no need for Mrs Ellis to swear anything,’ Jonathan said, looking at her. ‘As, like every other man and woman living under English law, Mrs Ellis is innocent until proven guilty. And I tell you this: one spiteful anonymous letter would be thrown out as evidence in any court in the land.’

  Jonathan glared furiously at them and the three men shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  ‘Thank you, Captain Quinn,’ Kate said, quietly. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

  Their gazes locked for a heartbeat and then Kate looked away.

  Mr Puttock went to retrieve the church Bible from the altar. He returned in a few moments and placed it on the table in front of Mr Overton.

  Kate stood up, walked to the table and placed her hands on the embossed leather Bible. ‘I swear by almighty God I have known no other man except my husband since the day I married.’ She crossed herself and all four men did the same.

  Kate stepped back. ‘Is there anything else you require of me?’

  ‘No,’ replied Mr Overton. ‘I believe we can draw a line under this matter.’

  ‘And there will be no more talk of my children being expelled from St Katharine’s?’

  ‘Not while I’m headmaster,’ replied Jonathan.

  Mr Overton shuffled his papers together. ‘Well, good day, Mrs Ellis, and once again thank you for your prompt attendance.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Kate replied, icily. ‘I know you are all busy men.’

  Jonathan rose and came out from behind the table. ‘Let me see you out,’ he said, as the vicar and the other two guardians started to discuss different matters.

  Kate turned and headed towards the door. Jonathan was already there holding it open. As she reached him Kate paused. Standing so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to throw herself in his arms, Kate looked straight ahead and walked back into the chilly church and her empty existence without him.

  Mrs Benson lowered herself carefully back against the cushion on the chaise longue. The ache on her left side threatened to take hold again but then it subsided. She breathed out. She eyed the foul-tasting medicine, which was four-fifths laudanum, topped up with cherry cordial. She would have to take it later but she could do without it for now.

  She had picked up her Bible and started to flick through the familiar pages when someone hammered on the front door. It opened and closed and then there was a light knock.

  ‘Come.’

  Willamore appeared. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, madam. It’s Captain Quinn. He seems very unlike himself.’

  Mrs Benson sat up. ‘Show him in.’

  The butler stood back and Jonathan entered. ‘I’m sorry to—’ He saw her and stopped. ‘You’re unwell. I’ll come back when you’re better.’

  ‘No, you won’t, young man,’ she said, in her firmest voice. ‘You’ll stay and tell me what has brought you hot-foot to my parlour.’

  For a moment she thought he was going to argue but then he strode to the window and stared out with his hands clasped behind his back. Mrs Benson nodded at Willamore and he left.

  Jonathan turned. ‘The vicar’s wife told me it was still just a mild chill so I am shocked to see you so unwell.’

  ‘It was, but unfortunately it allowed the malignancy within to finally get the upper hand.’

  A look of genuine grief flashed across his face and she loved him for it. Yes, God taketh away but sometimes he giveth back, too.

  ‘Don’t look so melancholy, my dear,’ she said. ‘We have to die of something. Now tell me what happened at the guardians’ meeting. As I know that’s where you’ve come from.’

  Jonathan clenched his fists. ‘Blasted gossip-mongers. No court in the land would give credence to such a letter. It’s against the rules
of justice but that didn’t stop them quizzing Mrs Ellis.’

  ‘Well it’s their duty to investigate anything that might tarnish the good name of the school.’

  ‘But this was clearly a malicious allegation from someone too cowardly to sign their name.’ He balled his fists as he struggled to master his temper. ‘I suppose if they’d only dealt with the matter at hand it wouldn’t have been so bad, but they dragged up all the dirt surrounding Mrs Ellis’s marriage and her husband’s prison record – which has nothing to do with her. They even asked her to swear her innocence on the Bible.’

  ‘Did she?’

  Jonathan looked indignant. ‘Of course she did. I’m just thankful I insisted on attending, or goodness knows what might have happened.’

  ‘It must have been very difficult for you, seeing Kate treated so,’ Mrs Benson said, quietly. ‘Especially as you are the unnamed man in the letter.’

  Jonathan looked astonished. ‘But . . . how?’

  She laughed. ‘My dear Jonathan, I have seen young men fall in love for over fifty years. I know the signs. And I’m not at all surprised. Kate is a very beautiful woman. And I can see by the way she looks at you that your feelings are reciprocated.’

  ‘But aren’t you going to remind me she’s married?’

  ‘I will if you like, but will it stop you pursuing her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I won’t waste my breath. But have you any idea who wrote the letter or how they found out?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can only think that someone must have seen us in the churchyard last Sunday. I caught Kate after the service and asked her to come away with me. She refused and we parted. But surely if they saw us together, why didn’t they accuse me too?’

  ‘Because I suspect that the author of the letter isn’t so much interested in upholding morality as separating you from Kate,’ Mrs Benson said.

  He looked at her bleakly for a moment then turned and walked back to the window.

  ‘My poor Jonathan,’ she said quietly, as she studied him staring out of the window.

  ‘This is a mess,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘If someone has tried to destroy Kate because of my feelings for her, then I must leave.’