by Val Wood
‘Of course not,’ Melissa murmured. ‘Poor dear. But would Mrs Tuke not say? She adopted him and brought him up as their own, which was a very honourable thing to do for the child. She needn’t say who the parents were.’
Harriet sighed. ‘It’s not so simple …’
Before she left, Harriet told Melissa that she hoped that she didn’t mind that she had given her name in confidence to Noah’s real mother so that if she should change her mind about disclosing Noah’s true background, she could write to Harriet at the manor. ‘I don’t want any correspondence going to Mrs Tuke,’ she explained.
Melissa nodded. ‘You don’t trust her? Have you thought that you and Fletcher could leave the district and live together anyway?’ she said. ‘Or does that shock you? You would have the same name, no one would know.’
‘That’s what Fletcher said. But I have to think of Daniel. What would I tell him when he asked about his family? Do I lie and tell him that ’Tukes are his grandparents? And then what would he think of us? Of Fletcher and me?’
‘Indeed,’ Melissa said quietly. ‘What indeed?’
Christopher was on his way to tell Ellen of his decision to offer her the tenancy of another cottage. He went over and over in his mind how to break the news that she would have to leave Marsh Farm. Whatever I say, she’s not going to like it, he thought. She can be outspoken when she wants to be; Ellen’s not the quiet shy person she seems. He recalled the days when they were young and used to meet secretly. It was always her idea, he remembered. She was the one who came up with a time and place where they wouldn’t be seen, and he was the one who was nervous of being found out. Mrs Marshall too played a part, covering for Ellen if ever they were late back.
That was one of the reasons why he took care of the old lady, in case at some time she might let slip how he and Ellen used to meet. Not that there was anything really serious, he thought, remembering how sensible Ellen had been when she heard that his parents were inviting eligible young women to meet him. Still, it was a shock when she told him that she had decided to marry Nathaniel Tuke, although in a way it was quite a timely relief. She was becoming a little too passionate, he recalled, which was difficult for a young man, especially one in his position.
The thought that he might have had an ardent liaison with a servant girl would never have entered his first wife’s head, but Melissa, well, she was totally different. That’s why he had been so attracted to her; she was so much more worldly. She would have smelt a rat immediately, and dealt with it.
He hoped that Fletcher Tuke would be at home, but he wasn’t. As he entered the cottage, Ellen greeted him effusively.
‘I’m so pleased to see you, Christopher,’ she said. ‘I don’t see you often enough.’
‘Well,’ he said, embarrassed, ‘I don’t have a great deal of time. The estate …’
‘I know,’ she sympathized. ‘You do far too much, I’m sure. Would you like tea? And cake? I haven’t lost my touch at baking.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t, but I mustn’t stay long. Ellen …’ He paused. ‘I’ve come to tell you something.’ He saw her eyes light up and she put her fingers to her chin. ‘It’s about Marsh Farm. I won’t be renewing your tenancy agreement in November. The property is too big for you now, and I’ve decided to offer you another cottage instead. At a peppercorn rent.’
‘But …’ She stared at him. ‘Fletcher can work it. It’s not too big for him.’
‘I have other plans for the land,’ he explained. ‘I’m going to start warping the bottom field, which means they’ll be digging drains and building sluices; the land can’t be farmed whilst that’s going on.’
‘But that’s what Fletcher wants to do,’ she insisted, her voice rising. ‘He’s allus said that that’s what he’d do if ’land was his.’
‘But it’s not his, nor does he have the tenancy,’ he said gently. ‘It’s in your name, Ellen. It always has been, as you know, and I’m sorry but I won’t be renewing it.’
‘You’re pushing me out!’ Her eyes flared and a flush reddened her thin cheeks. ‘You can’t. A cottage! I need space for hens and a cow. And then there’s Fletcher to think of.’
‘I can,’ he said patiently. ‘And you don’t need more than a few hens. The cottage is nearer to Brough. You’ll know it; old Mrs Hall used to live in it. There’s room for a goat,’ he added, and wondered why he was even discussing it. ‘Do you want it or not?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’ll have to speak to Fletcher.’ She glared at him as she spoke and nodded significantly. ‘I’ll see what he wants to do.’
And as Christopher spoke again, no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he regretted them. ‘Well, perhaps I’m wrong, but I understood from what Fletcher said that he had other plans. He told me that he didn’t want Marsh Farm.’
‘What?’ she whispered.
There was no going back. ‘He, erm, he thought that the tenancy was in your husband’s name and was under the impression it would come to him if he wanted it. He was surprised to hear that it was in yours.’ Christopher stood up to leave. ‘There’s plenty of time for you to think about the cottage. It’s very cosy, and not so close to the estuary. I’ll keep it for you until Martinmas. But I’ve nothing else to offer you, Ellen,’ he added. ‘So think seriously about it, won’t you?’
CHAPTER FIFTY
Ellen stewed for a week over Christopher Hart’s news and hardly spoke to Fletcher. She didn’t want to hear from his own lips that he wasn’t staying at Marsh Farm; neither did she want to hear that he might be considering a life with Harriet. Not that she thought of her by name, but only as that woman who had married Noah. Least of all did she want to be shuffled off to the small cottage where Mrs Hall had lived.
Then, in a sudden fit of pique she got dressed in her outdoor clothes, put the old horse in the cart and didn’t answer Fletcher when he asked where she was going.
‘Nowhere that concerns you,’ she said sharply. She climbed into the cart, cracked the reins and left, leaving him baffled and staring after her from the door.
She headed towards Brough Haven and Mrs Marshall; she wanted to chew over the position she found herself in with her old friend, but also wondered what she would have to say about the long absence since her last visit. She’ll understand, I expect. She’ll think of how upset I’ve been after being widowed so suddenly. She’ll know how my life’s been turned upside down.
But she wasn’t expecting to find the door closed when it was usually open, or to find her old friend sitting by a low fire instead of bustling about in her usual manner.
‘Whatever’s happened, Mrs Marshall? Are you sick?’
Mrs Marshall’s head was at a funny sideways angle but she managed to nod. ‘Had a funny turn,’ she mumbled. ‘I was hoping somebody’d come. Managed to keep ’fire in, but it’s burning dull.’
Ellen put down her basket and took off her coat, and then went outside to bring in some wood. ‘Soon have a blaze going,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cuppa tea?’ She bent towards her old friend and spoke loudly. ‘Good thing I brought some provisions; eggs and a fruit cake. Is there any milk?’
‘No,’ Mrs Marshall answered slowly, as if she had to think about it. ‘Somebody knocked yesterday – I thought it might be wi’ milk, but they didn’t hear me shout – and went away again.’
Ellen Tuke stood back and considered. It was strange, she thought, how life could hit you hard, but then gave you an unexpected lift. She made weak tea, as there was no milk, and poured a cup for each of them, and when she saw that Mrs Marshall was having difficulty holding the cup with one hand she held it for her as she sipped. Then she broke off a small piece of cake and fed it into her open mouth.
‘What I’m going to do, Mrs Marshall,’ she told her, ‘I’m going to mek you comfortable for today, then I’m going home, and tomorrow I’ll bring some more food, milk ’n’ that, and a mattress from ’spare bed, an’ I’m going to stop here until you’r
e on your feet again. How does that sound?’
Mrs Marshall emitted a small sigh. ‘You was allus a good lass, Ellen,’ she mumbled. ‘And it allus seemed – that I was ’onny one who ever knew it.’
Fletcher had his second argument with his mother when she announced that she was going to stay with Mrs Marshall the following day and didn’t know when she would be back; she also said that she would be taking the horse and cart, a mattress and several other things with her.
‘I’ll drive you,’ he said. ‘I’ll need Jinny and ’cart. In any case, you can’t keep ’hoss there. There’s no stabling, is there?’
‘She’ll be all right,’ his mother insisted. ‘I’ll put her in ’back garden.’
‘She won’t,’ Fletcher said adamantly. ‘She’s an old hoss; she likes her comforts.’
‘She’s ready for ’knacker’s yard,’ his mother countered.
‘I’ll tek you,’ Fletcher raised his voice, ‘and that’s ’end of it.’
He was curious as to why his mother was insisting that she would stay with Mrs Marshall until she was better, but on entering the cottage the next morning he realized why. It was a neat, warm place with a woodpile stacked at the side of the house, a vegetable patch, and a water pump and privy in the back garden. She’s going to settle in, he thought as he turned for home. She won’t ever leave and she’ll think she’s had ’last word, not only over me but over Christopher Hart too, and if he objects to her being there she can spread the rumour that he ousted her from Marsh Farm. He bit his lips anxiously. But whether she’ll ever tell that she gave birth to his child, if it is the truth, is another matter altogether.
Despondency crept over him as he drove back, and he didn’t take much notice of people hurrying towards the Haven. He only thought of the jobs he must do. He’d have to sell off the remaining farm stock, and clear the obsolete machinery out of the sheds and barn. He’d a few weeks yet before the end of the tenancy agreement, and Tom Bolton had made an appealing suggestion that he was thinking over very seriously; in the meantime he and Harriet had to make a decision about their future. Should they leave the district or brazen out the gossip that would ensue if they simply lived together?
Harriet hadn’t said much about that, but his view was that she wasn’t very happy about it. We haven’t really talked it through, he thought. Mebbe it’s too soon. It’s not a year yet since Noah died. Is that it? Is that why she’s reluctant to mek a decision? Or is she having second thoughts about marrying me? Has she changed her mind?
Melissa called Mary into her bedroom for a talk. ‘Harriet Tuke suggested I discuss my condition with you,’ she began, remembering Harriet’s advice to face Mary when speaking. ‘My doctor says very little, and also he lives in Brough, which is rather a long way if I should need him urgently.’
‘There’s generally plenty o’ time, ma’am, especially wi’ a first pregnancy,’ Mary told her. ‘But I understand it’s not easy to discuss women’s concerns wi’ a man.’ She clasped her hands in front of her ample body and smiled gently. ‘So is something bothering you, ma’am?’
‘Well, it’s just that I don’t know what to expect!’ Melissa said petulantly. ‘No one ever talks about such things. I’m very well, I think, but my husband thinks that I shouldn’t go out and should rest in bed most of the day. And then I’m so large!’
‘You’re also trussed up like a chicken,’ Mary frowned, ‘and that’s not doing either you or ’child any good. Will you permit me to loosen your corset, ma’am?’
‘Oh, please do,’ Melissa begged. ‘That’s one of the reasons why I agree to stay in bed so often. I’m so much more comfortable in my bedgown.’
‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t stay in your bedgown all day if you want to, ma’am. Who’s to say that you shouldn’t?’
The buttons on Melissa’s morning gown ran from the back of her neck to her waist and Mary began to unfasten them, tutting to herself as she did so. At last she slipped it down over her shoulders and then unlaced her corset. Melissa let out a huge breath. ‘Oh,’ she sighed. ‘That’s so much better. You know, I have actually refused to wear the crinoline. It’s bad enough trying to sit down without being girdled by steel rings!’
‘Quite right, ma’am,’ Mary agreed. ‘Shall I ring for your maid to fetch your bedgown?’
‘No. I can get it for myself,’ Melissa said. ‘And from now on I shall only wear what’s comfortable. Just help me off with all this paraphernalia, please, and then we can talk.’
But as Melissa asked questions, and then Mary asked questions, it began to dawn on Mary that perhaps it wouldn’t be too long before the birth. She asked Melissa to lie on the bed and gently ran her fingers over her abdomen.
‘If it pleases you, ma’am,’ she said quietly, ‘I could stay here until you’re delivered. I don’t think ’housekeeper’d mind if I shared a room wi’ one of ’maids. And I think, just as a precaution, mebbe Master Hart would ask ’doctor to call.’ She made this suggestion in a mild-mannered way as if there was no hurry at all.
‘Oh, if you think so, of course we’ll send for him,’ Melissa said. ‘And certainly you can stay. I should feel much more at ease if you would.’
‘There’s no rush, sir,’ Mary told Christopher Hart as she prepared to leave the house. ‘But if ’doctor could call in tomorrow to give his expert opinion …’
‘Tomorrow? But you said there was no rush,’ Christopher exclaimed. ‘Is the birth imminent?’
‘In another week or so, I think,’ Mary said calmly. ‘I’m going home to fetch a few things and then I’ll come straight back. Mrs Hart said she’d like me to stop till after she’s given birth.’
Christopher gasped. ‘I’ll get somebody to take you home and bring you back, then he can go immediately for the doctor.’
‘I said there was no rush, sir,’ Mary repeated. ‘But ’reason I want ’doctor to come is that I think Mrs Hart might be expecting twins.’
‘I’ll look after things here,’ Harriet assured Mary as the older woman gathered what she needed into a large black bag. The carriage driver was sitting outside waiting for her. ‘I hope Mrs Hart will be all right.’
‘She’s a healthy woman, I’ve no fears on that score, but as it might be two babbies, I’d rather that ’doctor came to check on her.’ She snapped closed the clasp on the bag. ‘I’ll see you when it’s over,’ she said. ‘It’s a good thing it’s midweek and we’ve done all ’washing, cos there’ll be plenty later on!’
Harriet watched her being driven away and was pleased that she had suggested Mary’s services to Mrs Hart; the mistress would be in good hands. She turned her attention to Daniel, who had crawled across the rug and was attempting to pull himself up by grabbing a chair leg.
How quickly the time has gone, she thought. It seems no time at all since he was a helpless baby in his swaddling clouts, and now he’s crawling and trying to stand and I must watch him every minute. She thought then of Noah and wondered how he would have dealt with having a child at his feet. Having had no love in his own life, would he have been able to give any to his son? And what was it he had said? “If it’s a lad I’ll decide how he’s treated.”’
She sighed heavily. What decisions would they have been, Noah? That he would be subject only to you? Would he have been given ’strap if he didn’t obey you? Would he have been allowed to mek his own choices in life? She thought then about Fletcher, who had made his own decision to leave his home, because he couldn’t bear to see her living with his brother. Soon I’ll have to mek my own decision about living with Fletcher, who isn’t, and can never be, my husband.
She suppressed a sob. Am I wicked to think that I want him to be, when Noah has not yet been found?
A sharp knock on the door startled her and made Daniel cry. She picked him up, soothing him. ‘It’s all right. It’s all right.’
It was Tom Bolton, Mary’s nephew. He scraped his boots on the iron scraper at the door when she invited him in, and doffed his cap.
‘Your aunt Mary isn’t here,’ Harriet began to explain. ‘She’s up at ’manor.’
‘No. No, it’s you that I called to see.’ He slapped his cap idly against his knees. ‘Though I’d hoped she might be here. It’s, erm, well, it might be nowt and be somebody else, but I thought to warn you afore rumours get about.’
‘What?’ She stared at him, hardly breathing. ‘Is it Noah?’
‘It might be,’ he mumbled. ‘But, well, it’ll be difficult to tell. I heard out on ’river that a body was seen in Brough Haven last night. I’m on my way to tell Fletcher. I thought we’d go together. After all, I knew Noah as well as anybody.’
‘Did you?’ Harriet felt shaky and abruptly sat down. She had known that this moment might come one day, but after all this time she still wasn’t prepared for it.
‘Oh aye. We had some grand drinking sessions together when you were – when you were …’ He glanced at Daniel, who looked back suspiciously and then turned his gaze away and buried his face in Harriet’s neck. ‘When you were expecting ’babby.’
‘Oh!’ she breathed. ‘Did you? I didn’t know.’
‘Course,’ Tom went on, ‘it might not be him. It could be Mr Tuke or anybody, so don’t get your hopes up.’
‘I won’t,’ she said softly. But it’ll be somebody’s husband, she thought, somebody’s father or son, and, for some family, a conclusion. An end of waiting and a chance to say goodbye.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
There was a flurry of activity in Brough as news spread that a body had been seen in the Haven the previous evening, and soon a small group of interested onlookers began to make their way down to the waterside.
A gusty chill wind tossed the quivering water on to the bank and then snatched it back again to rush and surge in a plunging vortex towards the middle of the Haven, where it swirled and eddied against the tide; ragged cloud hung beneath deeper rain clouds which scudded across the grey-blue sky, obliterating any light and turning day to night.