The Glovemaker's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  Zeph would say neither yea or nay on my behalf but within a few weeks I noticed a softening and shift in his manner with me. As if to prove that Providence was on my side, he began to cast his eyes around our assembly in hope of finding someone more enthusiastic. They alighted upon a young widow called Mary Allenby who was bringing up her children in straightened circumstances. She offered to serve in the household while I was away.

  ‘Everything works out for them as love the Lord,’ whispered Ellinor in my ear on hearing the news. ‘Zeph’s bed won’t be cold for long!’

  As children cut their teeth on hard rusks so we were sent about the district, from township to township, expected to visit and encourage the faithful, stand up against the priests and, witness to our beliefs, take the punishment: all those dung-peltings, pillories and whippings. No meeting was too small or too poor for us to make ourselves known. My boots were worn out tramping over rough tracks and sodden fords but we were given an allowance to cover such necessities.

  We did not hide our purpose and nailed notices of meetings to doors and trees, knowing the constable and the angry priest would be hard on our heels. Sometimes we were greeted with courtesy and interest in the market place and church porch; other times staves were raised against us as warnings.

  Had there been just the two of us I would have been afraid, especially for Ellinor, who was less sturdily built than me. Few outside our beliefs could stomach the idea of women preaching in the street. But there were always Friends by our side, taking the stone-throwing and rotten eggs and curses in good grace. From them I learned how to stay quiet within and not provoke anger in my stance and demeanour.

  On travelling days we were at the mercy of the elements and reliant on Friends’ hospitality for shelter. Sometimes we were pushed further up the dales of the West Riding to support those experiencing yet more persecution. In our sights sometimes was the great hill of Pendle where our guide and leader, George Fox, had received his first vision; but there was no time to climb the heights and see the view from the holy mountain, for there was a special rally towards Skipton way where travelling ministers would gather together in defiance of the authorities.

  The Act of Toleration which had afforded us some leniency had lately been revoked and not in our favour. News came from all counties of raids and fierce fines, and of lengthy sentences. The constables and militia men were about their business in earnest, robbing Friends of every possession they could lay their hands on.

  Yet my heart lifted at the sight of familiar hills and dales, the greenness of the spring grass and those lines of grey stone walls. The nearness of Scarperton troubled me for I was duty bound to call on my grandfather and pay my respects. I was not sure a visit would be welcome but Ellinor promised to accompany me, curious to see for herself the ogre I had made of Elliot Moorside.

  I retraced the path I had taken with Nan all those years ago, through the wide gate and the park and round to the side entrance, not wanting to make a fuss. Ellinor stared up at the house with wonder just as I had done. ‘How can one man live in such a big dwelling? Do the Friends know you came from such splendour to live amongst us as a servant?’ she asked.

  ‘It was never home to me but a cold empty dwelling full of fine folk who talked of nothing. I was neither below stairs or above in their reckoning. My grandfather only wanted me for his own devices and when I refused to be obedient, I was dismissed, taking leave just as my father did. I come only to be respectful of the care he has taken on my behalf on that matter of my grandmother’s gloves.’

  My heart was beating as I looked up the window from which I had first seen Miles astride his horse. Ellinor did not know the power that weakness still held over me. In truth I hadn’t thought of him for months but seeing those grey stones, the courthouse and the bustle brought it all back to me. We waited at the door while stable boys stared at us lewdly.

  ‘I’ll have the skinny one,’ shouted one lad, mouthing kisses. We ignored them, being by now used to teasing and gestures. In our plain collars and grey cloaks and hoods we were taken for serving wenches looking for work. No one recognised me, for I had grown a little taller; my skin coarsened by wind and rain, my waving hair, bleached by the summer sun, drawn back tightly into my cap.

  Suddenly the door opened and Mistress Priscilla stood before us unsmiling. ‘There’s no work nor begging here,’ she said, ‘away with you,’ and she made to shut the door again in our faces.

  ‘It is Rejoice Moorside, Mistress,’ I replied, and this is my Friend in Truth, Ellinor Holt. We’ve come to pay our respects to my grandfather.’ I got no further with my explanation.

  ‘You’ve got a cheek after all these years, running away without a please or thank you. So now you’re back to beg for ’umble pie, is it? The Master’s not at home, I’m glad to say. You were the cause of his great distemper for many weeks . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry. I wished to thank him for his courtesies towards me. Please let him know I did appreciate his concern, and taking time to write on my behalf.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. If I tell him you’ve turned up it will only upset him and he is not a well man.’

  ‘I’m sorry, we’ll pray for his recovery and return of strength. May I beg a pitcher of water for my friend then? We’ve been on our feet since dawn to make this visit,’ I asked, seeing the look of exhaustion on Ellinor’s face.

  ‘Well I suppose you’d better come in, but not for long. I’ve a hundred and one things to attend to.’

  We were shown into the familiar kitchen. Nothing had changed but the faces of the girls at their tasks. They looked us up and down with pity but said nothing.

  ‘Is Master Miles well?’ I offered in politeness. She turned on me quickly.

  ‘Oh yes, very suited, betrothed to Melinda Catherwood. I gather you played fast and loose with him, using him as your unpaid lawyer by all accounts. Melinda is quite the young lady. It is good to know he has risen so well in the world.’

  Priscilla slammed down a jug of water and two pots to drink from but nothing more. We sipped the cool water and made to take leave.

  ‘I thank thee,’ I said without bobbing a curtsey as she would expect.

  ‘You haven’t changed then, that bold stare and brazen manner. I hear Quaker women have no manners. They have done your looks no favours. Your grandfather would be sick at heart to see such a drab pair on his doorstep.’

  ‘Then I will write to him in due course and tell him I called and you withheld my coming to him,’ I snapped.

  ‘Joy! That’s uncalled for,’ whispered Ellinor, shocked at my response.

  ‘She can wear all the plain clothes she likes. She don’t fool me with all that theeing and thouing. She’s still a haughty baggage full of wind. You deserve a knock back, turning up here without an appointment and expecting a welcome. Be gone with you. Maybe I will tell the Master you called and how coarse mannered you’ve become.’

  We scuttled out of the door without a word. It had all gone wrong and I was unnerved by the news that Miles would be wed. Why should he not, when I refused to even consider being seen in public alongside him? I had used him, she was right in that, but it had cost me hard to let him go.

  Ellinor was quiet, too quiet. ‘The news of the lawyer’s betrothal. Did thee know? Do thee mind?

  ‘No,’ I snapped and promptly burst into tears. ‘I knew I must take my leave of him but my heart has ached for the doing of it.’ She held my hand as if to give me some of her own strength.

  ‘I know how hard it is, but I’ve told you many a time, all things work for them that love the Lord. Be patient. It does not work for us to be yoked to an unbeliever. Only stay true to your beliefs and it will be rewarded. There’ll be someone amongst us, someone for each of us who will make our hearts leap with joy, a fit companion for the tasks to come. Don’t be discouraged,’ she smiled.

  I knew her words made sense but at that moment I would have given anything to be Miss Melinda Catherwood of
Leeds.

  In the months that followed that first foray into new districts our friendship grew apace. Sometimes we were sent just to give messages of support from one district meeting to another when there was persecution. Other times we were sent to make enquiries about new members. But there were gatherings where we listened to the rallying calls of visiting preachers who stirred up our hearts with their fervour and tales of the sufferings of others. Then we would report back all the news to our own gathering.

  The meeting at which I first saw Ellinor’s favourite preacher, Jacob Wrathall, was no different from many others I had attended, but there was something about this young man and his manner that made him stand out from other travelling preachers: something in his gestures, the deepness of his voice that commanded attention, those fiery sparks that flew from him, turning an ordinary First Day Meeting into a never to be forgotten encounter.

  We both felt the tension in the air, the ripple of interest as he rose to address us.

  ‘I am not here to give thee comfort but to call thee out from amidst thy congregation, hard pressed though they may be, for a greater task, a longer journey into danger. There has been a falling off of youthful attenders of late, but it gladdens my heart today to see so many young faces raised in eagerness to hear the word of the Lord as it is given me.’

  It felt as if his eyes, that were roaming around the room, rested for a second on mine, drinking in my very person so that I flamed with his gaze.

  ‘It gladdens me to see modest dress and not flesh on show. Only last week I saw a young Friend displaying her neck for all to see. I spoke to her in earnest. “Is this flesh for sale?” I chided, seeing her dressed like a common strumpet. She looked at me and blushed. “Nay, of course not.” “Then shut up thy shop at once,” I replied, giving her my neck band to hide her vanity.’

  My hand flew to my neck. Was there something in my dress to cause such a comment? My clean collar was still tight and secure across my breasts, my hair out of sight as usual but I recalled how I had once worn that blue gown so loosely and enjoyed the compliments.

  ‘Many of us, children of believers, have not been through the refining fires of sufferings as our parents did in times past,’ he continued. ‘I fear that time is coming again as those in authority try to trick us into swearing oaths and paying tithes. It will be a time of trial and scattering, a time of danger. So the Lord hath laid on my heart the burden of gathering a faithful remnant to go out into all the world and tell the truth. It is a time not for cosseting our young into little walking trips but of goading them into longer hikes in distant countries far from our shores.

  ‘Dearest young Friends, you are but pilgrims called to labour in far-off vineyards, to spend and be spent in the service of His truth, wheresoever that may be. Let our message of peace and hope drop gently as morning dew, refreshing the earth and all that grows therein, so we can gather a fine harvest in the years to come.’

  What was he asking of us, I wondered, raising my head, straining to glean another glimpse of his strong features and dark piercing eyes. As if reading my very thoughts he glanced once more in our direction.

  ‘I had a dream the other night that the Lord was sending me forth like Noah upon the choppy waters, in a vessel full of servants, sending us out to unknown shores in answer to their call for Truth. Friends across the great oceans are calling out for young voices, young hands and feet to travel in His service in the footsteps of Friends Fox and Widders.

  ‘Wildernesses call out for farmers and carpenters, families to set their cities on a hill for all to see. We must build a land not corrupted by false religion; men and women from Yorkshire to build a new York and Leeds, a new Bradford and Scarborough. Young men and women who will not shirk from menial work, servants and spinsters, bakers and shoemakers, all are needed, not just for their trade but for their faith.’

  I felt Ellinor shaking, tears rolling down her face, her eyes aglow with emotion and worship. ‘What have I been saying to you for many years and now the call is come!’

  There was a stirring along the benches.

  ‘It will cost many guineas to sail ships across the ocean, a lifetime’s wages, so I’ve heard,’ shouted a man from the back of the room. ‘And there are savages ready to steal and kill. I don’t want my daughters delivered into the hands of heathens!’

  ‘I heard tell of my neighbour’s kin who set sail and never arrived in Maryland. Their boat sank in the wild seas. There are enough heathen folk in this land without seeking others afar off,’ said another preacher.

  ‘I hear you, Brother Preston,’ said our preacher, raising his hand. ‘Not everyone is called to make such a sacrifice in yielding up the fruits of their loins. Not everyone is called to climb the ladder from this country to a far-off land. Those who are called know it in their hearts, for their dreams will be filled with such promptings as mine and with the Lord there is always a way. He never sends us new mouths but fresh meat, never a ship without sails and a fair wind. It is all a matter of trust,’ he replied, looking once more in our direction, it seemed.

  My heart was thudding with that dream of the broad river of endless water, a ship with sails bobbing up and down. Would I find my broad river only if I journeyed in faith and risked all?

  ‘Amen to Jacob’s ladder!’ shouted Ellinor, grabbing my hand in excitement, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s always been my wish to visit America. You know it?’

  ‘I do,’ I croaked. How easy to say: how terrifying to imagine.

  ‘Then we shall both go.’ She smiled as if it were as easy as floating leaves on the duck pond.

  ‘How? Neither of us has got the price of one passage between us.’ One of us had to be sensible. Was it fair for this man to stir us up?

  ‘Then we will save until we have enough. You heard Friend Jacob. Coins will be found for our passage one way or another. They will want spinners and servants as well as weavers and farmers. They will want travelling ministers too,’ she added.

  ‘We’re not learned folk,’ I replied.

  ‘Don’t be false, Joy, your reading and numbering is better than most. Why should not the likes of us be useful in the vineyard?’

  ‘We will have to get permission to go and I’ve only just had permission to travel abroad in our own country. Nothing can be done without a certificate of recommendation.’ Someone had to throw cold water on all these flames.

  ‘They have to allow our inner promptings.’ I had never seen Ellinor so agitated. She kept glancing over at the preacher as if willing him in our direction. It was not the time to dampen her enthusiasm with such thoughts as how to survive once we got to our unknown destination. We must not be beholden to others to give us free passage, or could we?

  Such was the consternation, the flood of ideas that I was parted from meat and sleep for many days afterwards. I ploughed up and down the same furrowed ridges trying to cost what we might need and how to convince our meeting that Jacob Wrathall’s words had sewn such a seed of hope in our hearts.

  I would like to say that once the idea of Jacob’s ladder to the New World caught hold in our minds, the way forward was like the simple parting of the Red Sea before Moses. But once again I learned that nothing worth having is ever got without a deal of heart searching and hard work, patience and persistence. The heat of those first giddy weeks soon cooled in the harsh sharp winds of our everyday lives. There were rush lights to be dipped, broth and roasts to prepare, wool to be spun and cloth to be sold, meetings to attend and more and more prisoners to visit in the jail.

  Jacob Wrathall came and went as he pleased on his mission to gather emigrants and visiting ministers. He often supped with us and the parlour was packed to hear his news. There were many across Yorkshire who felt this call to make the passage to the New World but it would take months of preparation at the right season for a ship to sail in safety.

  I sat in the candlelight watching the hearth flame flickering across his face. His voice was deep and rich, his words both simp
le and learned, his lean body animated with enthusiasm. His eyes were like burning torches and when his glance turned in my direction I felt the heat of them burning my cheeks.

  Then I glimpsed Ellinor sitting in rapture, her face aglow with worship. He was the object of her desire and my heart shrank back for a moment seeing her passion for him so plain, so raw.

  How long she had waited in patience for the Lord to direct her path. Had he rewarded her with a vision of what might be between them? If I had any notions towards Jacob Wrathall it must be in friendship only. I was not worthy to wipe her shoes but my heart ached with a strange jealousy and envy to see them sitting together talking with such fervour. There was a furnace of agony within me until I tore myself from the room to prepare a supper for our guests.

  Suddenly I was no longer sure that I wanted anything more to do with Jacob’s ladder if this was to be the outcome. Two’s company, three’s a crowd in such matters, I sighed. I had imagined Ellinor and myself working alongside each other, good companions travelling together. My mind was racing ahead. If she went as his wife then I would be left to persuade the elders of my sincerity to travel on my own. Suddenly I felt very alone.

  One by one as the year passed, we watched the first enthusiastic volunteers slink away, discouraged by family and friends and the cost of this enterprise. For a few days after Jacob’s visit I resolved to abandon the whole idea of it myself but the dream came strongly in the night and I saw clearly the faces on the shore waving to me, beckoning me forward to join them. I woke refreshed and determined not to be a spoke in the wheel of Ellinor’s hopes. If she was to be joined with Jacob in wedlock who was I to stand in the way?

  I wrote to my uncle Windebank stating my intentions. He wrote back with loving concern that I would always be a wanderer but that I was giving in to fantastical notions. Time alone would tell if they were genuine. He suggested I returned to Windebank for a while to think all this over in the chill moorland air.