‘I’m all right, it will be worth everything when I see him go under. I hope he finishes up in the workhouse!’ Primrose shuddered before she went on, ‘I’ll know about the next batch soon, he’s got the women working overtime to refill the order.’
Parting at the edge of the marketplace, they went their separate ways.
Calling on the ‘Wives’ on the way home, Violet told them of the displeasure of the buyer of Woolley’s inferior nails, and related it again to her mother on reaching home.
They were, once more, playing a waiting game.
Fifteen
Riding home from his latest visit to Hobbins Street, Spencer counted his blessings. Violet Clancy had consented to become his wife. Never before had he felt this way about a woman and he’d shared a bed with a lady only once before. Violet set his pulse racing, made him feverish with excitement. He counted the hours until he would see her again.
Spencer couldn’t wait to share his news with his father who had been away on business for the last few days. Steering his horse off Trouse Lane leading to Gittins Manor, he made his way down the streets before taking off over the heath to his father’s factory at Stone Cross at a gallop. Spencer would tell his father now… today!
Keeping his eyes on the ground before him, Spencer avoided the holes in the heath that could befall his horse and endanger them both.
Dismounting and handing the reins to a lad who tended the horses, Spencer strode into his father’s office in the works, shouting, ‘Hello Father, I have some good news for you.’
Leaning back in his chair, Joshua smiled at his son before saying, ‘Good news is always welcome.’
‘Indeed, Father, I’m getting married!’
‘Well, my boy,’ Joshua stood to shake his son’s hand, ‘it’s about time!’ Laughing together they sat before Joshua asked, ‘Who is the lucky girl?’ It never occurred to him it might be Violet. He had considered that to be a flight of his son’s fancy.
‘You met her at the picnic father, it’s Violet Clancy.’
Joshua’s face fell as he asked, ‘Ain’t she the stepdaughter of that fella who drowned in the canal a few years ago?’
‘Yes,’ Spencer said bewildered at the instant change in his father’s mood.
‘Hmmm, you know the rumours that surround that family I presume?’
‘Yes father, and that’s all they are… rumours.’
Spencer knew the truth but could never admit that to his father; he knew Joshua would do his utmost to prevent the wedding taking place. No, he would not confirm these rumours to his father.
‘Son… I’m not sure this is a good match for you…’
Spencer cut across his father’s words with, ‘It is the perfect match for me, Father! We are in love and she has agreed to be my wife. I’m sure in time you will see how wonderful she is. Then you will know all the rumours around her family are speculative nonsense!’
‘Son, the girl has no money behind her from what I can discern, and I had hoped you would marry into a wealthy family.’
‘I don’t care whether she has money, Father!’ Spencer was becoming irate. ‘I love her, and that’s all that matters.’
‘I’m only thinking of you, lad, and I have to say I ain’t happy about this!’ Joshua went on.
‘I know you are worried but please don’t be. In the end it’s not about whether you are happy about the wedding, but more about me being happy with it – and I am!’
‘I understand that, but have you thought this through? It all seems rather sudden to me.’
‘Look, Father, I’m going to marry Violet Clancy with or without your approval! Naturally I would prefer to have it, as I don’t want this to always be a thorn in the relationship between you and me.’
Joshua could see he was determined and raised his hands in surrender at Spencer’s outburst, saying, ‘All right then lad, if that’s how you feel, then I very much look forward to meeting with your intended again.’ Seeing Spencer’s frown turn into a smile, he added, ‘Now then, shouldn’t you go and buy the girl a wedding ring before she changes her mind?’
Joshua clapped his son on the shoulder then watched him leave the office. Sitting in his chair once more, Joshua mulled over his doubts about Spencer marrying Violet Clancy.
*
The next few days saw Spencer visit the marketplace, where he requested that Mr Westley of Westley’s Jewellers make a wedding ring in the purest gold he had, and he dropped in on Mr Powell, his tailor, to be fitted for his morning suit. He did not intend for the grass to grow under his feet – just in case Violet should change her mind.
Standing now on the gravel driveway to his house after his visit to the jeweller, Spencer looked up at the building he had bought with the inheritance from his mother and had named it Gittins Manor. He could barely remember her but he knew she had died in childbirth when he was a small boy. His father had kept the money safe in the bank for him until the day came when he would need it. Until that time he had lived at Gittins Lodge with his father.
He stared at the red-brick building with its pillars standing sentinel either side of the front door. Large windows looked out onto expansive lawns, which were dotted with small topiaries. Trees grew tall and straight and encircled the property behind which stood high walls.
The house at one time had been extended and had many rooms both up and downstairs. From the hall, the parlour, drawing room and study could be reached. On the other side of the hall was the living room, sitting room and music room. Each room had had another built onto it with a door leading out onto the gardens. These rooms lay empty but could be used as extra bedrooms if ever the need arose. The kitchen and scullery lay at the back of the house and an outbuilding housed a double privy. The long staircase led to eight bedrooms. A back staircase wound their way up to the servants’ quarters. Away from the house was stabling for four horses and a carriage. There was also included an old cottage down by the canal which was rather rundown and would need some renovation in the future.
Spencer had decided to have his house cleaned from top to bottom and the maid bustled about cleaning everything in sight; washing curtains and bed linen; chimneys were swept, stables and horses taken care of. The lawns were cut, topiaries trimmed and flowers tended. A flurry of excitement about the forthcoming wedding kept everyone busy day after day. The house was finally to have a new mistress.
Leaving the staff to go about their business, Spencer attended to his own down at the factory with his father. He watched as Joshua chatted to a couple of the women on the factory floor. Joining them, Spencer accepted their congratulations on his upcoming wedding when his father said to him, ‘You heard the latest?’
At once thinking he was about to release a tirade about Violet’s family, Spencer snapped, ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip and rumour, Father!’
‘Oh this isn’t a rumour, it’s a fact!’ Joshua’s smile split his face as he pointed to the women he’d been talking to. ‘These ladies here tell me Frank Woolley’s last consignment of nails has been refused as substandard! He’s set his workers on overtime to fill the order again!’
Looking at the women, they nodded confirmation of Joshua’s words.
‘How come?’ Spencer asked.
Joshua said, ‘No one is sure about what went wrong, but the nails were faulty! Neither use nor ornament!’ A hearty laugh followed as Joshua went back to his office and the women resumed their work.
Something wasn’t right about this situation, but Spencer couldn’t put his finger on quite what it was. Woolley’s nails were usually good – easily as good as the ones Gittins’ Nails produced, so what had gone wrong with that batch? How come all the nails made by different women had been faulty? Could it have been the iron used?
It was well known Frank Woolley was a bit of a tyrant in his factory as well as at home; his poor young wife could lay testament to that. Spencer had seen Primrose Woolley many times heading for the marketplace, her shawl pulled over her head trying to hide
the bruises Frank had inflicted on her.
He had been in the Green Dragon Hotel on occasion and heard Frank Woolley boast about his factory and lifestyle. Frank lived in one of the larger houses on Church Hill, an expensive area, but he had no servants; that’s what his wife was for, Spencer had heard him say.
Frank Woolley was not well liked in the town but he provided jobs, not well paid, but it was work. People thereabouts found work where they could, and once acquired – they held on to it. Life was very bleak without employment and the threat of entering the workhouse had seen people take their own lives before going in there!
Spencer suppressed a shudder as he silently thanked God for his own good fortune.
‘I wonder…’ Spencer said as he entered Joshua’s office, ‘what went wrong with Woolley’s nails?’
‘I have no idea,’ his father returned, ‘but if he doesn’t get it sorted, he’ll lose his buyer.’ Suddenly looking up at Spencer from his desk, a smile spread on the older man’s face, ‘If he should lose his buyer…’
Spencer finished his father’s sentence, ‘We could step in!’ He was not normally one for wanting his rivals to suffer, but then everyone knew Frank Woolley was not a good man.
‘Son,’ Joshua said, ‘I want you to do something for me.’
Nodding, Spencer knew what was about to be asked of him.
‘I want you to keep an ear to the ground, see if you can find out what’s behind this, because if Woolley’s next batch is as bad, that buyer of his won’t pay. That being the case we could offer our nails – step in and secure the contract – and save the buyer’s day!’
‘Yes, Father. Even though our nails are a higher price, he might go for it – he’ll need his regular order filled on time after all.’
Rubbing his hands together, Joshua said, ‘Off you go, my son, see what you can find out!’
Riding back to town, Spencer again thought about the inferior nails and Frank Woolley’s predicament. It could have been just one faulty batch, in which case the next would be up to the usual standard. However, if something had gone wrong in the iron itself, or the sizing, then the next batch could also be faulty, Woolley would not be able to sell them and would be left with useless stock and no money coming in. With no money from the buyer, he would be hard pushed to pay his workers, which would mean the women would be laid off.
The thoughts followed in a stream in his mind. If Gittins’ Nails got the contract from the buyer then more nails would have to be made to fill the order; more staff would be needed – they could hire any women Frank Woolley laid off!
Spurring his horse to a gallop, Spencer determined to learn more and try to unfold the mystery of Woolley’s faulty nails. However, the first call he would make would be to Violet, he needed to see her again; he needed to tell her that her wedding ring was in hand before he placed it on her hand.
Sixteen
Primrose and Violet met in the marketplace as usual. The young woman was sporting yet another black eye and Violet’s concern for her grew.
Walking home together, Violet asked about her eye.
Touching it tentatively, Primrose said, ‘It’s nothing… just another of his rages.’
Watching Primrose as she limped alongside her, her disconsolate mood emanating like a living thing, Violet then asked why she was limping.
Stopping in her tracks, she rounded on her, ‘Don’t ask! Violet please,’ she said more gently, ‘please… just don’t ask.’
Walking on in silence, Violet’s heart went out to her. The child who had teased her mercilessly at school was walking beside her now, a careworn young woman.
‘Primrose, I’m sorry you’re having to go through this,’ Violet ventured, hoping not to upset the girl, ‘but hopefully it will all be worth it in the end.’
Primrose again stopped and as Violet looked at her questioningly said, ‘I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you when we were kids. I was a spoilt brat and there’s no excuses – just apologies.’
Violet sighed loudly then said, ‘Apology accepted. I’m sorry I gave you a pasting too.’
Primrose gave a tiny smile. ‘My mother was furious about the grass stains on my dress.’
‘I remember,’ Violet said as they walked on again. ‘Prim, it’s all in the past now so why don’t we forget that and concentrate on what lies ahead of us.’
‘Thanks Vi,’ Primrose smiled, pleased they were friends enough to shorten each other’s names.
The smell of Kath’s fresh baked bread hit them in a warm, tantalising wave as they stepped into the kitchen.
‘Hello girls, just in time. Sit down, tea’s just brewed.’ Kath pushed a plate of bread and cheese to Primrose who ate gratefully.
All his money, Violet thought, and he doesn’t feed his wife!
Primrose finished her food like she’d never been fed. Kath refilled her plate and poured the tea as the ‘Wives’ trooped in bearing more food and took their usual seats.
Martha had brought some apples her boys had scrumped from a farm across the heath; Annie had baked a farmhouse cake and Mary produced a pat of freshly made butter from Spittle’s Shop in the Holyhead Road – a real treat!
Everyone tucked in. Just then a knock sounded on the kitchen door, and in walked Spencer Gittins. Rounding the table, he kissed the back of each woman’s hand before going to Violet. Holding both her hands, he cast a glance to her mother, and on her nod of approval, he planted a tender kiss on his sweetheart’s cheek.
Laughing at the oohs and aahs from the women, he told Violet about the wedding ring he had ordered. Trying to eat, drink tea and talk at the same time, the little boy in him warmed Violet’s heart. He told everyone of the work being done at his house, Gittins Manor, in readiness for Violet taking up her role as mistress.
Amid the laughing and banter, Spencer said, ‘Primrose, it’s nice to see you enjoying the company of these wicked women.’ Spencer was unaware of the Wives’ Club and Violet had wondered whether it wise to tell him. The laughter increased and he continued, ‘I was sorry to hear of your husband’s misfortune with his buyer.’
Kath and Violet exchanged a look as Primrose said quietly, ‘Mr Gittins, I know nothing of business.’
‘Yes of course,’ Spencer returned, ‘my apologies. Please give your husband my good wishes.’
Primrose gave a curt nod in response.
As the talk once again returned to the forthcoming wedding, Violet sighed with relief that the subject of Woolley’s inferior nails had been dropped.
Kath assured Spencer that the wedding preparations were well under way, and with a polite refusal of his offer of financial help saw the young man happily on his way.
Primrose was the first to speak up once the women were alone, ‘It’s all over the town about Frank’s failure to sell his nails, but that young man had me worried there for a minute. I thought he knew about our plan!’
Kath asked, ‘What about the new batch? Did the wholesaler buy them?’
Primrose smiled and shook her head. Applause rang round the tiny kitchen.
‘What’s Frank gonna do now then?’ Martha asked.
‘He can’t pay the workers; he relies on that money for wages. Although he’s said nothing to me, I suspect he’s used up his savings on wages and more iron already! I think he might be laying off some of the workforce, but…’ she paused for breath, ‘he still won’t be able to pay the remainder. No one wants to buy from him – his reputation is sinking fast.’
More applause before Violet spoke, ‘Joyce, this is where you come in. You need to get to see Joshua Gittins, ask… ask for a raise or something, but see him! Let him know that Woolley’s buyer has deserted him and half the workers are being laid off. Tomorrow Joyce, get in there fast, make sure Joshua Gittins approaches the buyer before somebody else does!’
‘Ar, Violet,’ said Joyce, ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
*
After everyone had left, Kath called Violet upstairs. ‘I want you to have this,’
she said, showing her daughter a beautiful white lace wedding gown, ‘I wore it when I got married.’ Seeing the look of horror on Violet’s face, Kath hurriedly added, ‘No, not to John Sligo… to your dad!’
Violet’s fears laid to rest, she slipped into the dress which was her exact fit. The satin gown reached to the floor and was overlaid with white lace. The veil of fine net was draped over her head, reaching to her chin at the front and hanging to her shoulder blades at the back. The headdress of tiny white silk flowers holding the veil in place, Violet looked in the mirror, then to her mother. Tears rolled down their faces as they stared at each other. Finally it dawned on her – she was to be married.
Folding the dress carefully, Violet sat on the bed beside her mother, shed tears now drying on their faces.
Holding her daughter tightly, Kath whispered, ‘I know you’re scared, wench, but remember what you told me Spencer said, he would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to.’
Violet nodded as she recalled his words spoken out of earshot of their chaperones one day, if you prefer the marriage to be unconsummated… I would accept that… always.
The conversation had taken Violet completely by surprise. She remembered her horror of his broaching the subject of the bedroom. She had blushed to the roots of her hair as he had whispered those words, but she had loved him for them. Violet had confided in her mother, which had put Kath more at ease about the situation.
‘And,’ Kath added, ‘if you are ever unhappy for any reason, you come home to me. I will ask no questions, I promise – if you want to come home – you come home!’
Hugging her mother tightly, Violet whispered her thanks and her love and yet again they cried together.
*
The following day, Joyce acted out her part at work perfectly – according to her anyway.
‘I marched up to Gittins’ door and banged on it an’ walked straight in, cheeky as you like. I told him, “Mr Gittins,” I said, “I wants a raise.” Well, he looked at me one o’clock half struck before he said no, he couldn’t afford it.’
The Wives’ Revenge Page 9