by Rosie Clarke
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten. I’ll take you into the village to catch the bus. I mentioned it was your birthday a few days ago, Em. It just slipped out, so don’t be embarrassed if he buys you a late gift.’
‘You shouldn’t have, Pa. Christopher can’t afford to buy me presents.’
‘Well, I expect it will just be some sweets or something.’ He arched his brows at her. ‘He likes you a lot, you know. I thought you two might get together – but you’ve been out to a dance twice with Harry Standen, to the pictures and a concert too.’
‘I like Harry, he’s nice,’ Emily said. ‘Ma says he has prospects and I should try to get him to marry me – but I’m not ready to think about marriage yet.’
‘I shouldn’t let you if you were,’ Pa said and turned away to cough into his handkerchief. This time Emily saw the blood and she grabbed it out of his hand.
‘You must go back to the doctor, Pa. You can’t go on like this …’
‘Well, I have and he’s doing some tests. If it’s what he thinks … I may have to go away to a sanatorium, Em.’
‘Oh Pa,’ Emily caught the sob back in her throat, because that sounded bad and she was afraid she knew what it meant. ‘You should’ve gone sooner.’
‘It will cost money to go away and I’m not sure I can spare the money.’
‘I’ve got a few pounds and some trinkets you can sell.’
‘No, Em. If I have to go, I’ll find the money somehow – but it’s how you’ll manage without me, that’s what worries me. Even if I put the arable land down to grass the stock is still too much for you.’
‘Bert will help me.’
Pa looked at her and Emily sighed. Bert was almost useless, except for very simple jobs. It took longer to explain what needed doing than it did to do it yourself. Emily could milk, water and feed the stock but the mucking out was hard work. Bert might do it but he could wander off in the middle. She would find it hard to manage – and she wouldn’t be able to help Ma much in the house.
‘I’ll find someone …’
‘Derek has offered to help more. I know you don’t like him …’
Emily hesitated. She longed to tell her father why she couldn’t bear her uncle near her but she had kept the secret too long. Even if Pa believed her, Ma wouldn’t. It would result in more rows – and Pa wouldn’t have Derek near the place if he knew. If Pa was ill, they just couldn’t manage without some help and so Emily had to keep her secret.
‘I’ll manage somehow.’
‘If there’s a war all the young men will be off. You won’t get anyone of any merit, Em. It’s my fault. If I’d been more successful you and Stella wouldn’t have had to worry if I died.’
‘I don’t want you to die,’ Emily said and tears caught at her throat. ‘Please don’t say things like that, Pa. You’re going to a sanatorium if you have to, and you’ll get better.’
He patted her cheek and nodded. Emily wanted to cry or scream and shout, but she couldn’t change things. All she could do was to make things as easy for her father as possible.
A dray cart had just pulled up at the inn that faced the market square in Ely. The horse was sweating after its long haul, steam rising off the gleaming chestnut coat. Someone came out of the inn and offered a bucket of water to the driver, who held it for his horse while his mate unloaded the heavy barrels and reloaded empty ones. The return journey to the brewery at the bottom of the hill would be much easier for the poor beast than the one coming up. It snorted as it dipped its snout in the water, making rude noises as it took a welcome drink.
Emily helped her father unload his treasures in the yard behind the shop, carrying them into a little shed so that he could stack them high. The shed was filled to bursting, tables piled upon chests and oak coffers tucked into odd spaces, even a broken mangle Joe had bought because he felt sorry for the woman who had nothing else to sell. As they were finishing, the back door of the shop opened and Christopher looked out at her.
‘Is it all done?’ he asked. ‘I’d have been out to help before but I was busy.’
‘Pa said you had a customer,’ she said and looked at him hopefully. ‘Did you sell anything?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I sold that silver rose vase your pa bought last week,’ Christopher told her, a gleam of satisfaction in his grey eyes. Christopher wasn’t as handsome as Harry Standen but he had a nice comfortable face and eyes that lit up from inside. ‘It was filthy and the bottom was a bit bent but I managed to straighten it and polished it up – came up a treat it did. I sold it for ten shillings and sixpence.’
‘Pa gave five for it,’ Emily said. ‘That was really good, Christopher. If you could do that every day we’d be all right.’
‘I sold an oak stool yesterday for five bob and a kitchen chair the day before for half a crown – but that’s all this week.’ Christopher looked anxious and flicked back a lock of sandy hair. ‘It’s not very much. I tried to sell that nice roll-top desk to a farmer this morning. Your father wants six pounds for it, but the customer wouldn’t give more than four. I wasn’t sure what to do. Mr Robinson isn’t an easy man to budge once his mind’s made up.’
‘Pa paid five pounds for the desk. It might as well sit there for a bit as let it go for less.’
‘Don’t look like that. Your pa didn’t give too much for it. Mr Robinson is a mean old sod. Someone else will pay what it’s worth, you’ll see.’
‘If you say so.’
They both heard the shop bell go. Christopher immediately went back inside and she followed, standing just behind the door that led into the little back room where Christopher made himself a cup of tea on the gas ring when he had time. The room smelled of glue and metal polish and the pine table was covered with an oilskin cloth and littered with bits and pieces he’d been mending. She examined a silver purse that had been dented when her father bought it; Christopher had managed to straighten and polish it and it was nice enough to sell for a few bob now. Tiptoeing to the door, she squinted through the crack near the hinges into the shop, and was shocked to see that the customer was a gentleman.
‘Good morning, Sir Arthur,’ Christopher said in the respectful tone he used for customers. ‘Is there something I can show you?’
‘Good morning, Christopher. Your father told me you were working here and I thought I would say hello – but then I saw that desk in the window and I believe it is exactly what my bailiff needs for his office. He has one but we are training an assistant and John must have his own desk. How much is it please?’
‘My employer told me to charge six pounds for it, sir – but it came up well with some polishing and I think it’s worth a bit more.’
Emily heard a muffled laugh and then the sound of drawers opening and shutting before Sir Arthur spoke again. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, silently praying that he would purchase the desk. The money would mean so much to Pa. He really needed some good sales because so far the takings would hardly cover the rent and Christopher’s wages. If things didn’t pick up Pa might not have his shop for much longer. And he needed to have the treatment for his cough.
‘I think I would agree with you, Christopher. You are a good salesman and your employer was lucky to get you. The desk is worth every bit of seven pounds and ten shillings and I should be happy to pay that amount – if you will deliver it to my house?’
‘My employer will do that on his cart,’ Christopher replied. ‘That is extremely fair of you, sir.’
‘Excellent. Here you are,’ Sir Arthur handed over the money. ‘If you ever tire of working here, Christopher, you may apply to me. I’m sure I could find a position for a bright lad like you.’
‘My father told me to come to you, sir, but I wanted to prove I could find a job for myself.’
‘And I respect that in you, Christopher. However, the offer stands, should you wish for a change of employment.’
Emily entered the shop as the bell rang and the door closed behind their customer. She looked at C
hristopher with respect.
‘Why didn’t you want to work for Sir Arthur?’
‘It would have meant working with my father. I think the world of him, but … you know how it is.’
Emily nodded and laughed. She knew exactly how that felt, because although she worshiped her pa they sometimes struck sparks off each other, especially if it was cold and wet and they’d been working hard.
‘I can understand that but … Sir Arthur might have paid you more than Pa can afford.’
‘I know but your pa is a fair man. He promised me a partnership if things go well. I’m willing to work for small wages now if I can be my own boss one day.’
‘You’re ambitious.’
Emily had known it already. She liked that he wanted to make something of himself, to be better than his father and get on in the world. It was what she wanted too, what she was determined to do somehow. She threw a smile at Christopher and then saw her father was waiting for her by the wagon. She told Christopher she was leaving and went out. Climbing on to the driving box, she noticed that Pa had bought a newspaper and the headlines were dire. It really did look as if there would be a war very soon.
Chapter 12
‘Well, I think it is appalling,’ Lady Prior said as the family faced each other in the drawing room that evening. She placed her hands, one on each arm of her chair, the diamonds in her rings catching the light. Her hair had been dressed in a coronet of plaits that evening and was fastened by a comb studded with amethysts, her gown of purple silk regal and becoming despite being long out of fashion. ‘We haven’t had anything like this in the district for years. What kind of a world is it these days when a young girl isn’t safe a few yards from her father’s inn?’
‘What was she doing out at that time of night?’ Lady Barton said. An attractive woman in her youth, she had put on weight over the years and looked pale and ordinary beside her mother. ‘Her father should have kept a better watch over her in my opinion.’
‘Young girls will slip off to meet their lovers.’ Lord Barton poured himself a brandy from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. The oil lamps had been lit and cast a gentle light over the room, some of them with exquisite glass bowls that were fragile and beautiful, relics of their owner’s youth. Electricity was not allowed at Priorsfield Manor and was in the family’s opinion long overdue. ‘She had no mother to teach her how to behave. Bracknell has been a widower for years. At least my daughters have more sense than to go wandering off to meet strange men late at night.’
‘I hope my granddaughters have more self respect than to behave in such a loose fashion,’ Lady Prior said. ‘These common gels have no idea of what is proper.’
‘That is a bit unfair,’ Jonathan said. ‘There are plenty of young women who come from ordinary families who wouldn’t dream of slipping out to meet a stranger behind their father’s back.’
‘Do you think he was a stranger to her?’ Amy frowned. ‘Arthur was called in on the case you know, because he is a JP and he has to be informed of anything of the kind in his jurisdiction. It was his opinion that the girl knew her attacker. Her dress was torn but bruising occurred only about her throat. If she’d been attacked and put up a fight she would have been more badly bruised.’
‘Please don’t,’ Lizzie cried. ‘It is such a horrid thing to happen – and just a few miles from us.’
‘You are perfectly safe here,’ Lady Prior told her and patted her hand. ‘No one would dare to attack you on my land.’
‘Lizzie will not be allowed to go for walks on her own until this rogue is caught,’ Lord Barton said. ‘She ought to be safe on our land but I would not guarantee it at the moment. No more long walks until this business is settled, Lizzie.’
‘I would be afraid to go far with a murderer about,’ Lizzie said shuddering. Her dress of pale lilac lace over silk complemented her grandmother’s ensemble and suited her English rose complexion. ‘Amy shouldn’t either.’
‘Arthur has already made me promise not to ride out without a groom unless he can accompany me,’ Amy assured them. ‘Don’t be too upset, Lizzie. You would never dream of meeting the kind of man that would do this so you are perfectly safe. Besides, Arthur thinks he will be long gone; it was obviously someone just passing through.’
‘Not necessarily if she knew him,’ Lady Prior said. ‘Now that is quite enough of all this. I think we should talk about your dance, Amy. I have decided to give it to you, as a part of my wedding gift so there is no need for your father to commit himself to finding the money. How many guests would you wish to entertain, my dear? I was thinking of around two hundred – is that enough for you?’
‘Two hundred guests would be splendid,’ Amy said, her face lighting up with pleasure. ‘It is very generous of you, Grandmama.’
‘Granny, if you don’t mind. Nicolas and Lizzie call me Granny. I much prefer it.’ Lady Prior’s eyes darted to her eldest grandson. ‘Jonathan, would you mind waiting on me in the morning? I shall receive you in my dressing room at eleven if you please.’
Jonathan had been in the act of pouring a brandy and looked startled. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Have you?’ Lady Prior arched her sparse brows. ‘If you have I have no notion of it – but I do not wish to talk business this evening. We shall speak tomorrow if it suits you.’
‘Well, I had arranged to inspect the rebuilding of Morgan’s cottage wall but I can change that to another time. Although …’ he hesitated, then, ‘yes, of course. Whatever you wish.’
‘Very well. I think I shall retire now. Nicolas, will you lend me your arm please? I find I am tired and may need a little help up the stairs.’
‘Of course.’ Nicolas had sat observing the others but taking no part in the conversation. He stood at once and went to offer his grandmother his arm as support. ‘You should have asked sooner if you were tired.’
‘No, no, I shall spend more than enough time in bed once I’m unable to get about. I like to sit with my family at night, though I cannot keep late hours.’
‘I shall go up now,’ Lizzie said and rose. She kissed her mother’s cheek and smiled at her father. ‘Goodnight, Papa. Don’t worry. I shan’t do anything stupid.’
‘I have every confidence in you, my love. Sleep tight and don’t worry about this unpleasant business.’
‘Goodnight, Amy – unless you’re coming up?’
‘I’ll pop in and say goodnight soon,’ Amy said. ‘I want to talk to Father for a while.’
Lizzie nodded, following her grandmother from the room. She waited patiently for Nicolas to help the elderly lady up to the landing, then ran up the stairs and caught them at the top.
‘Goodnight, Granny. You’re not unwell, are you?’
‘Not at all, my love. Run along now. I want a few words with Nicolas.’
Lizzie kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight then.’
She went past them and down the hall. What did her grandmother have on her mind? Had she decided to put Jonathan out of his misery at last? Nicolas had no expectations at all and was uninterested in the question most of the family found of such burning importance. However, Lizzie knew her grandmother’s feelings too well to believe that she would not leave Nicolas some part of her estate.
Going into her room, Lizzie sighed as she sank down on the comfortable bed and released her hair from its ribbons. The style was a little too young for her but she had no maid of her own and was forced to do her own hair if Mrs Marsh was busy with her mother and Amy. Tying it back with a ribbon was the easiest way to keep her thick, ashen locks tidy for they had a natural spring and would not stay confined for long in any other way.
As she undressed she wondered vaguely what Amy wanted to say to their father that was so important it needed to be said that night.
‘A maid of your own?’ Lord Barton frowned at his daughter. ‘You’ve always managed with Mary or Mrs Marsh before. Doesn’t one of the parlour maids help you now and then?’
‘Yes, Mary someti
mes comes to help with my gown or dress my hair. Her work is adequate for when we dine alone at home, Papa, but I am going to be dining out more in the future. Mary has other duties. I need another maid. Besides, Mrs Marsh doesn’t always have time for me and Mother.’
‘It would take some time to find a trained lady’s maid these days – and she would be expensive. Perhaps we could get another girl in to help with Mary’s work and Mrs Marsh could give her some extra training in dressing your hair.’
Her father sipped his brandy, twirling it so that the rich liquid clung to the glass as it warmed in his hands and gave off a wonderful aroma. The glass was heavily cut and matched the others on the large silver tray. Despite the old-fashioned furniture, the room was comfortable, its colours of crimson, gold and blue rich rather than faded, the drapes having been renewed only five years previously. A jade chess set stood ready on a table made for the purpose and small pieces of silver, figurines and porcelain bowls cluttered every available surface.
‘That would be sufficient for the moment. I shall of course have my own maid when I’m married. Arthur will insist on her being properly trained.’
‘He will also pay her salary, Amy. You know very well I’m pushed to the limit now – and I refuse to ask your grandmother to pay for a dresser for you.’
‘Then I suppose I shall just have to accept extra help from Mary.’ Amy looked disappointed. ‘I shall ask Arthur to advertise for a suitable girl.’
‘We could do with another girl to help in the kitchen and perhaps do some of Mary’s work,’ Lady Barton said. ‘Mrs Marsh has been asking for some help for Cook for a while now. I’ll tell her to look for someone who won’t mind what she does. June could move up to parlour maid, and the new girl will do the rough work.’
‘If that is your wish,’ Lord Barton said. ‘You had best speak to your mother about her wages.’
‘Mama always pays for the kitchen staff,’ his wife said. ‘It is the reason I suggested it happen that way. She might not be as happy to pay for Amy to have her own dresser.’