by Anna Jacobs
She’d seen ladies there wearing walking dresses with gored skirts, but she’d heard you needed about four yards of double-width material to make one of those. She could probably have made one for herself using one of the new paper patterns, but she couldn’t have afforded to buy even the pattern on what her stepfather gave her, let alone the material.
He’d have seen no need to change the style of what she was wearing, the simple gathered skirts and blouses that she knew how to cut out and make.
Lyddie was in the kitchen, getting breakfast going.
‘I’d have brought up a cup of tea, if you’d rung, ma’am.’
Mattie decided to be honest. ‘I’m not used to being waited on. Anyway, I’d rather come down and get my own.’
‘Don’t let Cook hear you saying that. She doesn’t like anyone meddling in her kitchen.’ She studied her mistress anxiously. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being cheeky telling you that.’
‘Oh, Lyddie, I don’t think you’re cheeky at all. If you need to tell me something, just go ahead. You know far more about this house and how things should be done than I do. Let’s have a cup of tea together and you can tell me how you usually spend the day, what tasks you do, in what order.’
‘Well … Cook’s a bit tired today so she’s leaving the breakfasts to me – and what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over, does it, so I will sit down for a few minutes. I could murder a cup of tea.’
When it was ready she sat down and explained how the house was run, what her duties were, mentioning the scrubbing woman from the village, who also did the washing every Monday.
‘There’s a room just for doing the laundry in?’ Mattie asked in amazement.
‘Oh, yes. It’s out at the back. It has two big coppers to boil the water in and a good big mangle, and lines for drying inside as well as out, for when it’s rainy. It’s very well set up. Miss Newington was trying to make things more modern. She said there was no need for modern women to work like slaves.’
‘What am I to do with myself if there’s no housework for me to do and no washing either?’ Mattie wondered aloud.
‘Miss Newington used to write letters and go down to the village if anyone needed help there and sometimes Mrs Henty came up here to call on her. And Miss Newington used to do her accounts. She spent a lot of time on them.’
‘I couldn’t do the accounts to save my life,’ Mattie said. ‘I’m hoping Jacob will deal with that side of things.’
‘Well, I heard Miss Newington say once he was good with figures, and he must have been to collect her rents, so I daresay he’ll cope. I’m sure I don’t know anything about accounts, either.’ She drained the cup of tea with a happy sigh, then set it down and fiddled with its handle. ‘Um … I don’t know if it’s convenient but this should be my day off. I usually leave about ten and come back about eight. My family lives on the other side of the village. My dad is a cowman for a farmer there.’
‘Of course it’s convenient. As long as Cook can manage. I’ll tell her not to prepare anything fancy.’ She remembered Miss Newington saying Lyddie came from a big family who had trouble making ends meet. ‘And perhaps you could take some of the food that’s left over to your family? We don’t want it going to waste. We gave a lot away yesterday, but Cook made far too much.’
‘She wanted to show them she could do things properly.’ Lyddie beamed at her. ‘Mum’ll be that glad of the food. She says them young brothers of mine have hollow legs and they’re always hungry. I’d better ask Cook if it’s all right.’
Mattie realised she’d inadvertently made a decision without consulting the ruler of the kitchen and made a mental note not to do that again.
The children came clattering down the stairs and by the time she’d fed them, Jacob was back.
‘We need to get ready for church,’ he said as he finished a big plate of ham and eggs.
‘I’d rather not go today, if you don’t mind.’ It might be cowardly but Mattie couldn’t bear to face the people in the village yet, however friendly they might be, not until she’d got her own life and feelings sorted out. And she particularly didn’t want to face Mrs Henty who would, she was sure, not be at all friendly. ‘I’m feeling rather tired.’
‘I’ll tell people you’re still recovering from the pneumonia and that yesterday tired you out, which is true. We’ll have to let Ben go to church this morning because he’s in the choir, best baritone in the village, but I can’t see anything happening here today.’
‘You think Mr Arthur’s going to keep on causing trouble?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t want to take risks, though. If you keep the windows and doors locked, you’ll be all right inside the house. The rest of us can go to church in the dog cart.’
She sighed with relief as they all left, enjoying the prospect of having the house to herself.
It was good to walk quietly through the rooms and pick things up, open and close drawers. She would, she realised, be kept busy at first simply going through things in the various drawers and cupboards, finding out what she owned. Well, she’d enjoy that and it was good to know she’d have something to fill her time. If only her sisters were here to share her good fortune.
She went into the library and chose a book, but couldn’t concentrate on it and dozed off.
She woke with a start, unable to remember where she was for a minute or two. To her amazement, the clock showed she’d been asleep for nearly an hour.
It was the sunshine pouring in through the windows that drew her outside. The gardens might be neglected but the flowers didn’t know that and they were bursting into blossom everywhere. She’d always loved flowers. In the park you couldn’t touch them but here they belonged to her, and she could touch them or pick them, do whatever she wanted. A thrill ran through her at that thought.
She stood on the steps outside the front door looking out for a few minutes, then was tempted down into the garden. She’d hear if anyone drove up the lane and could easily run back into the house for safety.
She wandered down a path, stopping to touch a flower here, a bush there. She could fully understand why Jacob loved growing things.
The cab slowed down and turned off the main road at a sign saying Shallerton Bassett.
‘Aah!’ Stan leant forward. ‘Nearly there.’
‘We’ll have to ask where the big house is and get the old lady to tell us where Mattie lives.’ Bart scowled out at the rural scene. ‘And I’m thirsty. I could murder a glass of beer.’
The cab drew to a halt a couple of hundred yards from the main road and the driver turned round to ask, ‘Where do you want to go now? The sign says turn left for the village, but there’s a big house up the hill there. Do you think that could be this Newington House you’re looking for?’
Stan swung out of the cab, standing on the step and looking at the big house in the distance. Surely this Miss Newington would know where Mattie was?
He was about to tell the driver to go there when it occurred to him that it might be useful to find out the lie of the land first. ‘You stay here. I need to stretch my legs. I’ll walk up the hill and find out.’
‘We could drive,’ Bart protested.
‘I want to have a look round first before I speak to anyone. You can stay here if you want.’
Bart scowled and heaved himself out of the cab. ‘No, I’m coming with you.’
The driver slid down in the seat, tipping his hat over his eyes. ‘If I’m asleep when you get back, give me a nudge. The baby kept us awake last night. It’s nice here in the sun.’
The two men began to walk up the hill but Bart grumbled non-stop, so Stan poked him in the ribs. ‘Shut up! Do you want to tell everyone we’re coming? And you’ll make less noise if you walk on the grass.’
‘What does it matter if they see us coming?’
‘I always like to have a look round in a new place. You can go back to the cab if you want.’
‘I told you, I’m coming with yo
u. You’ll be too soft with her.’
‘And you’re too hard on people. This time we do it my way. I don’t want you causing any trouble. You’re not to hit her, mind. I mean that.’
For answer, Bart spat into the grass.
In church the sun shone in through the one stained glass window, casting jewel colours over the hymn book Jacob was holding. He watched his son singing in the choir, smiling at how angelic Luke looked – the only time the boy ever did. Standing next to Jacob, Sarah joined in the hymns and fiddled with her skirt when the sermon started.
He didn’t try to get her to pay better attention, because Mr Henty’s sermons were not only boring but also a puzzle. The man didn’t seem able to make it clear what he was preaching about.
However, one word stood out in the clergyman’s first statement.
‘Today I shall talk about pride, a grievous sin and one we should all avoid. As it says in …’
The thought suddenly speared through Jacob: why was he so upset about Mattie inheriting the house? Pride, that was what it was. It was a man’s job to support his family, but if one member of a family got given a lot of money, then it should be used for the benefit of them all – and that’s what she’d wanted, expected.
The only thing getting in the way of that was Jacob’s own pride.
As the rest of the minister’s sermon flowed past him unheard, he remembered Mattie’s face. He’d hurt her yesterday – and again this morning. He hadn’t meant to but … No, honesty compelled him to admit to himself that he had known he was hurting her, but still hadn’t been able to stop himself doing it.
For once, Mr Henty’s sermon made its point. It was pride, Jacob admitted. He’d not wanted to be dependent on his wife. What man would? And yet he’d been happy to have her dependent on him, even though the thought of being a burden had upset her.
Mattie hadn’t known what to do about the inheritance, had been shocked rigid. So had he. But he should have helped her more, not turned away from her like that.
And actually, it was a wonderful thing to inherit so much – wasn’t it? For the first time he let himself enjoy the thought of what it’d mean for him and his children, what it’d mean for Mattie – and for any children he and she might have together. Their family would be secure, not dependent on other people’s whims, not having to answer to men like Arthur Newington.
The sermon ended and Sarah had to tug him to his feet as everyone stood up for the final hymn: ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’.
He heard his child singing away tunefully beside him and found himself joining in, singing with all his heart, because things were bright and beautiful – or they would be once he’d set things right with Mattie.
He’d go straight home after the service and apologise for his surliness, his unkindness. Then they’d sit down together and make plans. It was going to be all right, he was sure of that now.
But after the service, people wanted to stop him to talk, to congratulate him, to ask where Mattie was, marvel at her inheriting the big house – and, once they found out she wasn’t well, send their best wishes for her speedy recovery.
At one stage, as they stood in the churchyard, Luke tugged at his father’s jacket and Jacob looked round quickly, while trying to listen to old Mrs Bentley.
‘Can me and Sarah walk home now, Dad?’
‘Yes, you run along. Tell Mattie I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
He did his best to listen patiently to the old lady, and to the others who were waiting for him. He hid his frustration at this delay in speaking to Mattie. It didn’t matter really. He’d be with her soon.
Stan saw Mattie in the garden and put out one hand to stop Bart, then set his forefinger to his lips to tell his friend to be quiet.
Bart nodded, a gloating expression on his face.
No time to deal with him now. Stan moved forward quietly, thankful for so much grass.
She seemed lost in thought as she wandered through a gate in a high wall. He hurried forward, wondering where that led to. But it was only another garden, this time one with paths made of crazy paving going round little flower beds. Everything looked a bit of a mess. You’d think rich people could look after things better than this.
To his fury, Bart spoke. ‘So there you are, Mattie Willitt!’
She spun round, gasping, her face going white as chalk.
As Bart tried to surge forward, Stan grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back, then shoved him aside as Mattie took off running. He ran after her, catching her as she was fumbling with another gate at the other side of the garden.
He put one hand across her mouth as she opened it to shout for help. He didn’t want other folk there, needed to talk to her on his own. ‘Keep quiet.’
Footsteps shuffled up towards him, heavy breathing that he’d recognise anywhere. ‘Stay back, Bart.’
‘Don’t let her go.’
‘Leave this to me.’ He looked down at Mattie, so small and dainty in between his outstretched arms. She looked terrified. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, upset when she flinched as he moved one arm slightly.
She glanced to his side at her stepfather. ‘I’m not Mattie Willitt. I’m married now. My husband will be back from church soon. If you touch me, he’ll not be pleased.’
Bart gave his wheezing laugh. ‘I’m not frightened of anyone.’ He raised his clenched fists. ‘Not as long as I’ve got these.’
‘My husband’s as big as you,’ she said, but she shrank back from Bart.
Annoyed, Stan gave his friend a shove. ‘Keep back. You’ve no call to threaten her like that.’
‘No call! After what she’s done to me?’
Stan could feel anger rising in him. ‘Stay there and shut up, or I’ll damned well shut you up, Bart Fuller.’
For a moment the two men eyed one another, but Bart’s eyes fell first and he let his fists drop.
Stan turned back to Mattie, noticing how thin and frail she looked. ‘What’s happened to you? You don’t look at all well. Isn’t he treating you decently?’
‘I’ve had pneumonia. I nearly died.’
‘Serves you bloody right,’ Bart said, saw his friend’s annoyed glance and grunted.
‘What did you come here for?’ she asked.
Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Stan frowned, remembering rumours of how badly Bart had once beaten her. ‘You’ve no need to be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I want to find out …’ He looked sideways. ‘Go for a walk round the garden, Bart. I want to talk to her on my own.’
‘But I—’
‘You can ask her afterwards.’
After a moment’s hesitation, Bart walked away. ‘Five minutes,’ he called as he left the walled garden.
‘There’s a bench over there. Come and sit down.’ When she didn’t move, Stan took her arm and pulled her across to it.
‘What did you come here for?’ she repeated.
‘To ask you why.’
She didn’t seem to understand.
‘We were engaged, we’d got the banns being called. Why did you go back on your word like that, run away?’
‘I never wanted to marry you.’
Silence, then he couldn’t help asking, ‘Why not? I’d have treated you well and I’m a good provider. You wouldn’t have wasted the money I earned like my wife did, so we’d have got along all right. I had it all worked out.’
‘I just … didn’t want to marry you.’
‘Why didn’t you say so when you were asked, then? Why lead me on?’
‘I wasn’t asked, I was told. And I was too frightened of him to say no.’
Stan cursed himself. ‘I should have done the asking myself, but he said he knew how to deal with you.’
‘Threats. That’s how he dealt with us. Threats and bullying and beatings. And I didn’t like being sold to you. He boasted that you’d paid money for me.’
‘But that was
only to make things easier for you, to stop him making trouble. You know what an old miser he is.’
‘I can’t believe you came all this way to ask me that. Did you know I was married?’
He nodded.
‘How did you find me, anyway?’
‘Fanny Breedon saw you at the station the day you got married. She heard the name of the old lady who owns this house and that’s how I found you. I was coming to ask the old lady where you were, didn’t know you were staying here.’
Bart wandered up and down the path outside the walled garden, angry at his friend for being so soft with her. He pulled his watch out and looked at it. Two more minutes to go. He wasn’t giving Stan longer, because someone might come and Bart wanted uninterrupted time with Mattie to find out where her sisters were. He’d do what he had to in order to find out, thump her if necessary, whatever Stan said.
As he was walking along the path a little girl came skipping round the corner and bumped into him. She let out a little yelp of shock.
‘Watch where you’re going, you stupid brat.’ He gave her a quick clout over the ear.
She cried out and he shook her hard. ‘Shut up, you!’
The gate was flung open and Mattie ran out. ‘Sarah!’
He knew then how to get the information out of her. He scooped up the little girl in his arms. ‘Stay back, Mattie, or she gets hurt.’
Luke’s shoelace had broken and it took him a while to knot the ends together well enough to walk. His sister wasn’t in sight, but he didn’t feel like hurrying, so strolled on in the sunshine, looking at the big house.
His dad wasn’t happy about Mattie inheriting it, he could tell. And Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to live there, either. You didn’t dare move for fear of breaking something, and it was too far from all his friends. But that bathroom was smashing. He was going to have a bath there tonight. Wait till he showed the house to his pals!
He heard Sarah give a yell and it sounded as if she’d hurt herself, so he started running. But when he got to the corner he saw her struggling against a brute of a man.
He hesitated, but knew he’d have no chance against a fellow like that, so turned and ran back the way he’d come, praying that his dad was on his way home.