Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  ‘Well, you chose a fine night to make your escape, I must say. How did you get here?’ She told him she had had sufficient money saved to cover the train fare. ‘And you came on your own? Good Christ, girl, you could’ve been murdered.’ Her shivering had transferred itself to him. ‘Look, take off your things and get into bed.’

  She sniffed and pulled away to look into his face. ‘In your bed, you mean?’

  ‘Well, yours won’t have any sheets, will it? They weren’t expecting anybody to drop in like this.’

  ‘But I’ve no nightgown or anything. I had to leave all my clothes behind when I climbed out of the window.’ He suddenly remembered. ‘What about Belle?’

  ‘She hates it too, but she said her mother would go hairless and only send her back.’

  ‘I’m glad one of you had some sense. Here.’ Nick pulled one of his own nightshirts from a drawer. ‘Put that on.’

  ‘In front of you?’

  He waved his hand flippantly. ‘You’re nothing much to see.’ He had viewed both his sister and his cousin naked – though they didn’t know it – and compared them, not lustfully, just with clinical interest.

  ‘You slug!’

  ‘Oh, very well, I’ll turn my back. But do hurry – I’m getting cold now.’ He listened to the swish of soggy clothes being ripped from an equally drenched body, then, at the silence, turned to find she was ready. ‘Get in.’

  ‘It isn’t right.’ Her white teeth gnawed at her lip. She knew that this was how babies came about. Nick, who knew everything, had informed both her and Belle some time ago.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, I’m your brother. Get in.’

  Smiling gratefully Rosie climbed into the still-warm bed whose sheets wafted of her brother, and looked at him as he rolled in beside her, pulling the blankets round them both and snuggling his body up to hers.

  ‘Oo, cuddle me, I’m freezing.’ She wriggled.

  Nick put his arms round her and hugged her body into his. He experienced an acute awareness, of soft mounds thrusting their erect tips into his chest, burning skin through his nightgown at breast and thigh, the smell of warm, damp feminine flesh, the whisper of breath against his cheek.

  ‘Goodnight, Nick.’ She kissed him and snuggled her head into the hollow twixt neck and shoulder.

  ‘Goodnight.’ While she shivered he lay with eyes open and thought for a while. It was odd, he had attached so much importance to carving himself a niche at the store that his growing body’s needs had passed almost unrecorded until now when the warmth of femininity curling into him stirred a note of wonder – and other things. Rosanna had stopped shivering. Her breathing had taken on the regularity of sleep. His own eyelids became heavy. However, before he dropped off Nick had decided with the same businesslike detachment he had used to gain his foothold at the store that tomorrow he must set about another, equally important task. He must find himself a woman.

  * * *

  ‘I think your most advantageous position would be to stay in bed until Nan and I go out to work.’ Nick stuck his legs out from under the blankets to test the air, then pulled them in quickly. ‘Fooh, it’s the best place to be as well.’ He directed his face towards the tangled head beside him. ‘Nan’s more likely to send you back than Grandad. If you catch him on his own before he sets off for his fields you should be able to get round him.’ A yawn. ‘Oh well, I suppose I’d better depart.’ He leapt out quickly and without embarrassment ripped off his nightshirt to stand naked by the washstand.

  Rosie pretended to hide her face but, as he sloshed water on himself, peeped over the bedclothes. He knew she was looking and grinned to himself, turning quickly to catch her. She snapped her eyes tightly shut. ‘Enjoy your geg?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she mumbled through the sheet. ‘Are you decent yet?’

  Still grinning he pulled on his clothes, dancing about unsteadily as he stepped into his trousers. ‘All right, you can come out now.’ He finished dressing as her puffy face emerged.

  ‘Will you bring me some breakfast?’ Muzzy eyes blinked at him over white linen.

  ‘Oh yes, what would madam like?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘Milk in one pocket and porridge in the other?’

  ‘A bit of dried toast would do.’ She pretended to be hurt at his callousness. ‘I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime.’

  ‘All right, if I can sneak anything from the table I will, but stay where you are and don’t make a sound.’

  Thirty minutes later Rosanna sat up in his bed devouring a piece of buttered toast.

  ‘And dispose of the crumbs when you’ve finished,’ he warned. ‘They can get in the most uncomfortable places. Right, I’m off. I’ll see you tonight – if you’re still around.’

  ‘I will be,’ she grinned with certainty.

  The toast made her thirsty. Unfortunately Nick had been unable to bring up anything to drink. Clambering from the bed she went to the door, opened it and peeped round the edge. The landing was empty. She pelted lightly along the Axminster runner to the bathroom where she filled a glass with water. It was tempting to use the closet, but if she pulled the chain they would wonder who it was. She had better use Nick’s chamberpot instead.

  This she did and had just climbed back into bed when the door opened and Abigail came in. ‘God a’mercy on us!’ She seized her chest in fright, but on seeing the identity of the intruder relaxed and shut the door hastily, scuttling up to confront Rosanna, who had been equally alarmed.

  ‘Miss Rosie… You nearly frightened the life outta me!’

  ‘Ssh, Abi!’ Rosie put a finger to her lips. ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m here. Have Nick and my grandmother left the house yet?’

  ‘Yes, just this minute – Miss Rosie, whatever’ve you been up to? And what are you doin’ in Master Nick’s bed?’ At Rosie’s explanation she asked, ‘But where did poor Master Nick sleep?’

  ‘Oh, there’s plenty of room in here for two little bums. I didn’t deprive him of his comfort.’

  ‘Oh, Lord preserve us!’ The maid’s hands went to her face. ‘You slept all night wi’ Master Nick?’

  ‘Yes, what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘It’s… it’s just wrong, that’s all, very wrong. The master an’ mistress’d go off their heads if they knew.’

  ‘But why? I mean I’ve learnt enough to know it would be wrong to sleep with someone who wasn’t my husband… but for goodness’ sake, Nick’s only my brother! Surely there’s no wrong in that?’

  Abi studied the innocent face. Her response was awkward. ‘Well, it’s not my place to tell you… it’s just wrong, take my word for it. An’ I shouldn’t tell anyone else about it. If the mistress asks tell her you slept in your own room, say you sneaked some sheets from the linen cupboard. I’ll take some to your room right now an’ make ’em look as though they’ve been slept in.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, Miss Rosie, you don’t half get up to some tricks. You shouldn’t be knowing half o’ what you know… oh well, now you’re here what are you going to do? You can’t stay up here all the time.’

  ‘Is my grandfather still down there?’ Abigail said he was. ‘Well, I shall go down and throw myself on his mercy. Oh,’ she looked at the pile of clothes on the floor, ‘my tilings’ll still be wet. D’you think you could slip and find me something from my wardrobe? I left all my stuff at school.’

  Abigail tutted but did as she was asked and helped Rosanna to dress, then brushed out her tangled hair. ‘There, you look a bit more presentable now. Well, go on then, you’d better go before the master sets off for his work. Your Aunt Erin is downstairs, too.’

  ‘Oh, damn! I’ll have a harder job of it than I thought,’ sighed Rosie and gritting her teeth went to meet her fate.

  Patrick and Erin were as surprised as the maid had been, the former rising from his seat where he had been enjoying his newspaper until the whirlwind hurled itself at him. ‘Rosanna, darlin’! Whatever’s happened?’

  ‘Oh, Gramps, please,
please don’t send me back to that horrid school! I can’t bear it. Everyone hates me. The lessons are impossible. If you send me back I know I’ll die!’

  Patrick made her sit beside him, putting a comforting arm around her and dabbing at her wet cheeks. Erin looked on cynically. ‘Ye’ve hardly given school a fair chance to say if ye like it or not; you’ve only been there a fortnight.’

  Rosie ignored her aunt and directed her plea at Patrick. ‘Oh, Grandfather, please let me stay. I swear I’ll be no bother. Don’t send me back. Please, please.’

  ‘Rosie-posie,’ he hugged her slim, shaking body. ‘Whatever am I going to do with you?’ He was brought upright by a loud ringing. ‘Oh, Jazers, that bloody telephone will be the death o’ me! I’ll never get used to it.’ He deserted his grand-daughter and went to the hall where he beat Abi to picking up the receiver. ‘Hello! Hello! Yes, this is Patrick Feeney. Who? Oh, Sonny! Yes, yes she’s here, hang on.’ He craned his neck to take in the occupants of the dining room. ‘The school has been on to your father. Ye’ve had him worried out of his mind.’ He applied his mouth to the appliance again. ‘She’s all right, Sonny! We haven’t heard the full story yet but no doubt we… yes, yes. Oh, no, it’s no inconvenience. Oh, yes, I agree, it would be pointless. She says she hates the place. So, will I… ? Very well. Yes, I’ll rip the skin from her back… all right, Son. Goodbye, then. God go with ye. Yes. ’Bye!’ He replaced the receiver on its hook and returned to give Rosanna the news. ‘Well, your father wasn’t too pleased I can tell ye.’ Reseating himself at the table he dragged up the teapot and poured himself a cup. ‘But…’ he turned to her, ‘ye don’t have to go back if ye truly hate it.’

  ‘Oh, Gramps!’ She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him gratefully.

  ‘Careful now, ye’ll spill me tea.’

  ‘You and Sonny are as soft as each other,’ Erin told him. ‘I know what I’d do if it were my child who’d behaved so. I’d give her a good whipping and send her back. Ye get far too much of your own way, young lady. Ye must learn to curb that wilful streak – and what about Belle, might I ask? I bet ye didn’t spare a thought for her feelings when ye ran away an’ left her all alone.’

  ‘I asked if she wanted to come,’ replied the girl. ‘But she said no.’

  ‘No, she’s more sense, I’m glad to say. Well, and what are ye going to do with yourself now? Ye can’t sit around the house all day getting under the servants’ feet.’ Rosanna thought for a while, then said, ‘Could I go with you, Gramps?’

  ‘And do what – dig praties?’

  ‘Oh, please, I won’t get in your way. And it would keep me out of mischief if you’re there to keep an eye on me, wouldn’t it?’ came the sly addition.

  ‘It can get awful cold standing round doing nothing,’ said Patrick doubtfully. He wasn’t certain he wanted to take his grand-daughter among a bunch of rough labourers.

  ‘Oh, Grandad, I’ve had a splendid idea! Aren’t you always saying how you detest paperwork? Well, I could do it all for you. Oh, go on,’ she saw him weaken. ‘Just for today at least.’

  ‘Oh, all right then.’ He gave in as he always did to his grandchildren. ‘But wrap up warm, mind.’

  She kissed him again and, grabbing another slice of toast, pelted off to get her coat.

  ‘Ye shouldn’t let her take advantage, Dad,’ reproved Erin. ‘’Tis the same with all o’ them, they wrap ye round their little fingers. Ye should’ve made her go back. She’ll have to learn some day there are things we all dislike doing but we must do them all the same.’

  ‘Erin, what good would it do if I sent her back? She’d only run away again.’

  ‘Then ye should send her back again till she gets the idea. I’d like to have seen myself get away with it when I was her age.’ What angered Erin most was the opportunity of a good education which Rosanna so blithely tossed aside. Erin would have cut off her legs and crawled there on bleeding stumps to be granted the same opening.

  ‘Well, things are different these days. ’Tis obvious that Rosie isn’t cut out for learnin’. The best thing I can do for her is to keep her safe till it’s time to hand her over to her husband, whoever he may be. She’ll he happier being with me than at school. And, as she said herself, at least I’ll be able to keep an eye on her, won’t I?’

  * * *

  Patrick’s land was approximately two miles from the city. Here he not only grew produce for Thomasin’s store but supplied other retailers as well, his growing area having expanded considerably since the early days. Once there he steered Rosanna towards a large wooden building where the crates of fruit and vegetables were stored.

  She stepped past him into the barn, rubbing her arms to counteract the cold. ‘Where’s your office, Gramps?’

  He nodded to a hook on which was impaled an untidy selection of dockets and a notebook dangling from a string. ‘That’s it.’

  Her jaw dropped, then knowing that to complain might get her sent back to school she snapped it into a resolute grimace and strode across to seize a fistful of dockets. ‘Is there a table I can rest on?’

  Patrick handed her a piece of board and pointed to a crate. ‘Ye’ll have to sit on that an’ balance the board on your knee.’

  ‘So modern,’ she tendered sarcastically.

  ‘I do apologise. If I’d known I was to get a secretary I would’ve ordered a bureau and a leather chair. ’Twas your suggestion, Rosie, remember.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not complaining, Gramps.’ She pulled out a handkerchief and dusted off the crate before sitting on it. ‘Right then, you go ahead, I’ll make a start.’

  He tugged his forelock. ‘Oh, ’tis all right with milady if I go see to me men, then?’

  ‘Quite satisfactory. Run along, young man.’

  When the door had closed Rosanna heaved a sigh and stared around her at the crates of cabbages and turnips. Still, anything was better than school. She followed the piece of string that was attached to the notebook and captured the pencil at its other end. Opening the book she glanced back over previous pages then settled down to enter the dockets. It seemed simple enough and didn’t take long. With nothing more to do she became bored. Slipping from her seat she went to the door and peeped outside. It looked quite pleasant now that the sun was out. The impulse that was a frequent visitor to Rosanna took hold of her feet again, luring them first over the threshold, then – all thought of work dispersing on the chill air – propelling her towards the sunlit fields.

  The path that led from the storehouse took her along the perimeter of the growing area. She wandered unhurriedly down its bumpy route, consuming the sights and sounds. Her grandfather’s figure was as a midget’s way across the far side of the field where he doled out orders to his men. Holding her face to the sun she smiled and stretched her arms joyfully. Ah, freedom! How lovely to be away from that school.

  Adjacent to the path was a hawthorn hedge. Periodically she would stop and delve into its folds, seeking out the small creatures that might be waiting, quivering, for her to pass. Coming across a deserted nest she inserted two fingers into the elongated funnel – which signified to her that it belonged to a long-tailed tit – feeling the interior for an unhatched egg; it was empty. She wandered on.

  Where the hedge finally stopped there was a small but dense clump of woodland which looked interesting. She drifted amongst the group of trees scuffling her shoes through the carpet of rotting leaves. A sudden crack brought her head up. She stared as a young man emerged from behind a tree, his hands at his breeches.

  Instantly aware that he was not alone the youth started, then swiftly turned his back on her, fingers scrabbling busily at his clothes. When he turned back his weathered face had even more colour than usual. They held each other’s eyes for a split second, then abruptly the young man swivelled and would have gone had Rosanna not called to him, ‘Hello! What’s your name?’

  He faltered, then performed a half-revolution, evidently greatly discomforted. ‘Rabb, miss.’

/>   ‘Your first name.’ She pushed herself from the tree trunk on which she had been leaning and sashayed up to him.

  ‘Timothy, miss.’ He was not as tall as her grandfather. Their eyes were almost on a level – but then Rosanna was not short.

  ‘How do you do? I’m Rosanna Feeney.’ She extended her hand.

  The youth darted suspicious eyes at it, then, wiping his own down his breeches, slowly accepted the handshake, nodding. Rosanna couldn’t take her eyes from him. He had the loveliest face she had ever seen on a man. In fact it wasn’t a man’s face at all – soft and gentle, timid even – it was the face of a deer, brown eyes wary, poised for flight. Yet the hand she still clasped was very masculine with squared fingers, the bared forearms that led away from it taut and sinewy, powerful. His shoulders would be that way too, thought Rosanna, looking at them. Under that shabby workman’s coat was a body like one of those statues in the park that Piggy had always steered her away from. She experienced a sudden hotness. Sometimes, whilst lying in bed she had pulled up her nightgown to roam her hands over her naked body. Closer examination had divined a brown line that travelled from her navel to disappear into soft curls, and when she brushed her fingers lightly over it all sorts of shivers ran through her body. She felt it now, although no one had touched her.

  Her voice did not betray her, remaining conversational. ‘I’m Mr Feeney’s grand-daughter.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Earlier he had pulled down his sleeves, unsettled by her scrutiny, but now the embarrassment seemed to have been overcome. His eyes held her face. ‘At least I guessed.’ He stared at her for a good while longer, then bluntly terminated the meeting. ‘I have to go,’ and he moved off.

  ‘Oh, please!’ She took a step after him. ‘Won’t you stay and talk a while? I’m so bored.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Though he stopped walking. ‘The master doesn’t pay to have men stood idle. Besides, he wouldn’t like me talkin’ to you.’