by Val Wood
‘Some studying!’ Lydia Percival trilled as they came inside for their coats. ‘Well, my word, what a clever girl.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Just one thing, Margriet. When you are out, don’t run; walk more slowly, as befits a young lady such as yourself. Your mama wouldn’t have been pleased to see you race along the street as you did just now. It isn’t becoming. And take care if you are out alone not to speak to anyone. Be circumspect at all times.’
Margriet bobbed her knee. ‘I will, Mrs Percival. Thank you so much for coming today.’
Mrs Percival’s eyebrows shot up at her effective dismissal. Margriet’s hand remained firmly on the door as she waited for them to leave, and Mr Percival touched his hat and ushered his wife out.
‘Oh, please be careful,’ Rosamund begged, one hand on her hat and the other clutching the blanket. ‘Please don’t drive so fast.’
William Ramsey plonked himself beside her and tightened up on the reins. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Rosamund. What fun this is. I’ve longed for a smart curricle like this for such a long time. They’re so very sporty. Built for speed.’
Rosamund glanced at him. She’d thought he bought it for her, though actually she would have preferred a dog cart for getting about; it would have been more convenient. ‘Where shall we stable the horses?’ she asked.
‘Oh, erm, at my place to begin with, and then we’ll find stabling in Hull until we decide where we’re going to live.’
‘But – you said we’d stay in Parliament Street. It’s a nice house, very convenient—’
‘Yes, yes,’ he cut in brusquely. ‘Don’t let’s worry about that now.’ He turned to her and smiled. ‘Let’s just enjoy the next few days. We’ll dine in the hotel tonight; I’ve invited a few friends over, by the way. The Knavesmire races tomorrow and then we’ll see what comes next.’
‘I don’t want to leave Margriet too long on her own,’ Rosamund told him.
‘She’ll be fine. She’s a very sensible girl, and besides, this is our honeymoon, Rosamund. Don’t let’s spoil it by thinking of Margriet.’ He leaned towards her and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘We’re going to think about us!’
And that was something she was afraid of. She had intended telling him that she didn’t want any more children, that childbirth terrified her, but she hadn’t. Neither could she tell him that the whole bedroom business was abhorrent to her.
Her entire body ached by the time they reached York. He had, it was true, tried to avoid the many deep ruts and wheel tracks on the road, but that meant swerving and she’d had to hold tight as he didn’t slow down but let the horses keep up their breakneck speed.
‘Almost there,’ he said, as they rumbled beneath the archways of the walls of York. ‘Have you been here before?’
She confessed that she hadn’t, and he told her that it was only a small market town and the only thing to recommend it in his opinion were the races held on the Knavesmire just outside the town. ‘There are lots of Irish immigrants here now,’ he said. ‘They came to escape the potato famine and there’ll be work for them now that the railway has come. Things should look up.’ He grew thoughtful. ‘Maybe we should invest in the railways, Rosamund; there’ll be money to be made.’
He drove more slowly through the narrow streets, and as Rosamund looked about her she saw the overhanging top storeys of buildings almost touching each other and blocking out any light from the darkening sky. She wrinkled her nose at the stench coming from some of the unmade muddy roads.
‘This is it,’ he said at last, reining in beside the timbered frontage of a very old building. ‘Here, take the ribbons for a minute whilst I shout for the lad.’
Gingerly, Rosamund took the reins. She hoped that nothing would startle the horses and make them bolt, but they seemed docile enough; their coats were sweaty and she thought that they had been driven too hard.
William came out again with the landlord and she was helped down. ‘This is my wife, Isaac. We were married today. Say how-de-do to her.’
The landlord turned to look at her. He drew in a breath and his mouth formed into an O. He glanced at William and then he grinned, showing only half a mouthful of teeth. Ushering her inside, he put her valise down on a not very clean wooden floor and gave her a bow. ‘Charmed to meet you, dear lady,’ he fawned. ‘Delighted to know that someone has been brave enough to take on my good friend Jack.’
‘Jack?’
‘William Jackson Ramsey,’ William said. ‘Isaac has always called me Jack. Have you saved us your best room, Isaac, as I asked?’
Rosamund looked about her. This wasn’t at all what she had expected. They were in the bar area; casks and barrels lined the walls, and long wooden tables were already taken by groups of men who seemed to be taking a great interest in her. ‘Is there another dining room?’ she asked. ‘You said you’d booked supper.’
‘And so I have.’ William took her arm. ‘Lead on, landlord, and take us to our accommodation.’
They were led up a set of very narrow stairs to a small landing and then up another even narrower set to the top floor, where Isaac opened a door to a long room. To her relief, it contained a large bed and a wash stand with clean towels, a wardrobe and an easy chair.
‘Thank you,’ she said in some relief. ‘This will do very well.’
‘Our best, m’lady,’ he said. ‘Nothing but the best for our Jack and his lady wife.’
‘Draw me a tankard of your best ale, Isaac,’ William said, ‘and I’ll be down to quaff it in two minutes. I’ve a thirst on me from the drive.’ He grinned as he spoke. ‘And I’ll need several more before the night is over.’
‘And for you, ma’am?’
‘A pot of tea up here, if you will,’ Rosamund said, ‘and a slice of bread and butter.’
William took hold of both her hands when the landlord had gone down, and opened her arms wide as if to look at her. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘here we are.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ she said nervously. ‘It was a tiring journey. I shall be pleased to have a rest before supper.’
‘And so you shall.’ He indicated the bed. ‘A very comfy mattress. And there’s no need to change for dinner – we don’t dress up here.’
‘But you said you’d invited guests!’
‘So I have, but you don’t need to worry about them. There’s no one to hold a candle to you.’
He blew her a kiss and left her, and she took off her boots and jacket, unfastened her waistband and climbed on to the bed, where she lay back and took a deep breath. Why was it, she wondered, that she felt as though she had made the biggest mistake of her life?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
William tapped on the door just as Rosamund was drifting off to sleep, and told her that their guests had arrived. ‘We’re eating at seven, so don’t be long,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait downstairs. Isaac will show you where we are.’
She rinsed her face and hands and straightened her clothes and hair. Searching in her valise, she found a lace cap and placed it on her head. ‘That will have to do,’ she breathed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. ‘How I hate to be rushed.’
The staircase was dark and she fumbled her way down the two flights to the bar room. It was full of rowdy men and a few women who turned to look at her. Isaac was busy serving ale and she tried to catch his eye, not daring to venture past the crowd of men. Then a young serving girl pushed past and she asked her where she would find Mr Ramsey’s private room.
The girl looked at her blankly. ‘Don’t know any Mr Ramsey,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to ask Isaac.’
She started to move away, but Rosamund put out her hand. ‘Would you ask him, please? I can’t get his attention.’
The girl hesitated, but there must have been something in Rosamund’s voice that commanded her respect because she nodded and pushed her way to the landlord. After a moment Isaac came hurrying towards her.
‘Begging your pardon, ma’am. This way if you please.’ He raised his voice. ‘Out the way
, lads – let the lady through. Mind your backs and your manners. No foul language please, we have quality here.’
His voice had its effect and everyone stood back to make way, some of the men pulling off their caps and hats and some giving a little bow. She couldn’t tell if they were mocking her or not, for she was afraid to meet their eyes. Isaac gave a perfunctory knock on a door and opened it to a room full of people. A table was set for supper, with a huge pie in the centre surrounded by several dishes of steaming vegetables and a large jug of ale.
‘Here she is at last,’ William called out, coming towards her. His face was flushed and she wondered if he had had more than the one tankard of ale he had ordered. ‘Quiet, everybody. Kindly be upstanding for the beautiful Rosamund, who did me the great honour of becoming my wife only this morning.’ Rosamund blushed as everyone stood and cheered and she was led to a seat at the head of the table.
‘Wine, landlord, the best that you have, to drink a toast to my lovely bride.’ William pointed a wavering finger at her before bending over her and whispering beerily that he would introduce her to everyone all in good time. Sitting near her was a portly, bleary-eyed man who murmured a name she didn’t catch and opposite him was a pretty but rather blowsy young woman with rouged cheeks, wearing a low-cut gown and purple feathers in her hair.
‘How d’ya do, Mrs Ramsey?’ she purred. ‘Marie-Louise Jarvis, but everybody calls me Lou. I’m an old friend of Jack’s. You’re a friend of his sister, I understand?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Rosamund murmured, leaning away as a young maid served her a very large portion of meat pie whilst Isaac hovered behind her with a carafe of wine. She was suddenly overwhelmed. This wasn’t the way it was meant to be. She had thought that she and William would have a quiet supper together, during which they could have talked and got to know each other better. She looked about her at his choice of friends and knew that they could never be hers. The sooner I can persuade him to come and live in Hull the better, she decided.
As the evening wore on the voices grew louder and more clamorous as the ale and the wine flowed everywhere but into Rosamund’s glass, for she refused any more after the first two. A headache was beginning and she wondered how soon she could make her escape. William was sprawled with his elbows on the table talking nineteen to the dozen, yet she hadn’t had any conversation with him since she entered the room.
Eventually she got up; of her nearest neighbours, the man was asleep with his head on the table and gravy on his chin, and the woman Marie-Louise had gone to speak to another group and was sitting on someone’s knee. She made her way towards William, who looked up as if he were surprised to see her. ‘I’m going up to the room, William,’ she murmured into his ear. ‘I’m very tired.’
He closed his eyes momentarily and gave a nod, his head almost dropping to his chest. Then he blinked at her and blew out his cheeks. ‘Right,’ he slurred. ‘I’ll be up as soon as this lot have gone, which will be when the barrel runs dry.’ He slapped her rump, making her jump. ‘Keep the bed warm for me.’
She opened the door and closed it behind her, steeling herself to face the crowded bar room. She dodged between the drinkers and no one stopped her or made a comment, but when she reached the stairs she had to negotiate her way past a couple sitting in a close embrace halfway up and a hand reached inside her skirt to clasp her ankle. She kicked out and rushed upstairs to the safety of their room, where she closed the door and put a chair against it as there was no lock.
She breathed in. This was a nightmare. Surely in the morning, please God, she would wake and know that it was.
Downstairs in the supper room, Marie-Louise saw Rosamund leave the room and went across to William and put her arms round his neck. He pulled her on to his knee and nuzzled into her shoulder.
‘Now then, Jack,’ she murmured into his ear, ‘and you a newly married man, to a real lady no less.’ She nibbled his ear lobe. ‘And you with a taste for something more hearty.’
He put his finger over her lips and she opened her mouth to enclose it. ‘We need to go up in the world,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll be all right, Lou, trust me.’
She sucked on his finger and said softly, ‘Promises! Well, you won’t forget us on the way up, will you, Jack?’
The next morning Rosamund awoke to find she was alone in the bed and only on her side had the blankets been disturbed. She heaved a sigh of relief. William had obviously been too drunk to get up the stairs. Someone tapped on the door and a female voice called out that she had brought breakfast.
‘One moment, please.’ Rosamund got out of bed and put a wrap round her shoulders before moving the chair and opening the door.
‘Mr Ramsey said he’d be up in a few minutes, ma’am. He’s been seeing to the hosses.’ The maid put a tray down on the bed. There was a pot of tea, a milk jug, two cups and several slices of toast.
‘Thank you.’
As the girl left, William came bounding up the stairs. ‘Good morning!’ he said, as fresh faced as if he had never taken a drink in his life, and kissed her cheek. ‘You were fast asleep when I came up last night, so I didn’t disturb you. I slept in the chair.’
‘Really?’ She didn’t believe him. He couldn’t have got into the room without waking her, but she was grateful that he knew he had transgressed.
‘Come on then,’ he said jovially. ‘Tea and toast and then a hearty breakfast before we go off to the races. I want to show off my beautiful wife. I think you’ll bring me luck, so we’ll have a flutter or two, eh? What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been. Is it exciting?’
‘Nothing quite like it. And we’ll make everyone sit up and take notice when we arrive in the curricle.’
And in spite of herself she couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm and hope that today would be better.
Downstairs, the inn was as busy as it had been on their arrival the day before. Adding to the babble of conversation was the crowing and cackle of cocks and hens, fastened in crates, and the yapping and warning growls of dogs tied beneath their masters’ feet.
‘This is a favourite meeting place for the local farmers,’ William shouted above the clamour. ‘It’s where they seal their market deals.’
‘I see.’ Rosamund followed him into the room where they had eaten supper. The table was laid for breakfast, and as she sat down the maid came in with fresh coffee. Isaac followed her with two plates of bacon, eggs, sausage and chops.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t eat all that.’
‘Eat what you can and I’ll finish it.’ William was already reaching for the loaf of bread in the centre of the table and tearing off a chunk. ‘Best breakfast in York,’ he grinned. ‘Isn’t that right, Isaac?’
‘So I’m told, but not for me to say.’ The landlord leaned towards him. ‘Put me a guinea on Brass Monkey, will you, Jack, and take the wager out of the winnings?’
‘Is it a good bet?’ William asked, and when told that it was he agreed that he’d have a flutter too.
They set off after breakfast, William telling her how she was going to love it, and when they reached the Knavesmire Rosamund was quite thrilled with the atmosphere. Besides the racehorses and their trainers, there were more people than she had ever seen in her life, thronging the side shows that had been set up to entertain them with tumblers and clowns, and inspecting stalls selling trinkets and greasy-smelling food.
William found her a place near the rails and said he was going to put on some bets. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. We always meet friends round here.’
Rosamund looked towards the grandstand. ‘Can we not sit down under cover?’
‘Not unless you’ve a few guineas to spare,’ he said. ‘That’s for the gentry, not the likes of us, unless you’re very rich, Rosamund.’ He smiled. ‘But we want to be in the midst of what’s going on, don’t we?’
He walked away towards a crowd of people clustered about a man in a
very tall top hat who stood beside a large board with numbers and names written on it. Rosamund turned to lean on the fence and gazed down the long stretch of track. She hoped she was going to enjoy the day, but she couldn’t help thinking that she’d rather be at home. She rather feared that her life was changing, and she wasn’t at all sure it was for the better.
Someone was calling ‘Rosie, Rosie’ and then ‘Rosamund’. She turned, and with a sinking heart saw Marie-Louise and her escort from the night before bearing down on her. That was when she knew for certain that life as she had known it was definitely changing for the worse.
Margriet had stood on the steps until the Percivals had turned the corner into Whitefriargate, before going inside and closing the door. She listened. There was not a sound in the house except for the chink of crockery coming from the kitchen. They’ll be making a cup of tea now that everyone has gone.
She suddenly felt very alone and wondered what she might do. She’d brought several books home from the library, but she didn’t want to read, not yet; she’d look at them tonight. She decided to go out and have a look around town, just as she used to with Papa. Maybe she would see the boy Billy and his friends.
She raced upstairs to change, ignoring what Mrs Percival had said. I’ll run if I want to, she thought rebelliously. What did she know about anything? Taking off her muslin dress, she threw it on her bed and looked in her wardrobe. After a moment she brought out a plain skirt she had worn for school, a white blouse and her ‘everyday coat’, as her mother called it, which was rather short for her now, coming down to mid-calf. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t see anyone she knew, except perhaps the Sandersons, and they wouldn’t notice what she was wearing. In fact, she rather hoped that she might see Julia or Florrie and be invited to tea.
She crept downstairs, deciding that she wouldn’t tell Mrs Simmonds that she was going out. She might try to stop her, or tell Jane to go with her, and she didn’t want that. Quietly she opened the door and closed it behind her, glad that the kitchen window didn’t look over the front of the street. She ran swiftly down the steps, and without in the least planning her route sped off in the direction of Land of Green Ginger.