by Val Wood
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rosamund arrived home just after seven on the evening of the third day, hammering on the door because she didn’t have a key. She had never needed one.
‘Prepare a hot bath immediately,’ she told an astonished Jane, who had opened the door to her, ‘and tell my daughter I’m home.’
Jane dipped her knee. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Miss Margriet is out.’
‘Out! Out where? It’s after seven o’clock!’
‘We think she’s gone to ’fair, ma’am.’
‘What? Alone? Send Mrs Simmonds to me immediately.’ Rosamund dropped the blanket she was carrying on the floor, took off her coat and hat and threw those on top of it. ‘What on earth is happening? The world has gone mad.’ She put her hands to her head; she was shaking with fear and anger and with the battering she had had in the coach from York.
She hadn’t expected to spend two whole days at the races. On the evening of the second day William had been very downcast and she guessed that he had lost heavily on the horses. As he drove them back to the inn she had told him she would like to go home. He’d muttered that it was too late now and she replied sharply that she knew that but would like to return to Hull the following day.
‘No,’ he’d said. ‘You don’t understand. We can’t! These are the last races of the season. I have to make up my losses.’
‘And I have a young daughter at home,’ she had replied coldly. ‘I wish to return.’
He hadn’t looked at her but stared straight over the horses’ heads as he told her that in that case she would have to catch the coach, as he was going to stay.
She had been shocked. At first she couldn’t believe what he was saying, but glancing at him she saw that he was quite serious and not speaking in jest. ‘Very well,’ she had said, hoping that he would change his mind. ‘That is what I will do.’
But he didn’t change his mind. He told her he would escort her to the afternoon diligence and make sure she was safely on board before he left her. Except that he didn’t, and had asked the landlord to escort her as he’d left early for the races; nor had he told her that the coach journey would take six hours. This information was given to her by Isaac, who was most attentive to her well-being; having discovered that she had not travelled alone before, he had packed a parcel of bread and ham to save her the effort of competing for attention when the coach stopped for refreshments.
She had done some serious thinking as she travelled, huddled beneath the blanket that Margriet had so thoughtfully suggested she bring, and concluded that the only thing in her new husband’s favour was that he had not yet ventured into her bed. She would tell him that he could live in York if he pleased but that she would stay in Hull and he could visit her whenever he felt so inclined. She would not give him the opportunity of saying that she refused to live with him.
But now, trembling with fatigue as she sipped the cup of sweet tea that Mrs Simmonds had brought her and waited for Jane and Lily to fill her bath, she wondered what to do about Margriet. Should she inform the constable that her daughter was missing, or wait as Mrs Simmonds had suggested, for Margriet had gone out at the same time last evening and returned two hours later.
‘We think she’s gone to ’fair, ma’am,’ the housekeeper had said, unconsciously echoing Jane. ‘I’m really sorry, but short of locking her in her room, I don’t know what else I could have done. When she came back last night she told me that she had been with friends, so mebbe she’s gone with them again.’
But who were they, Rosamund wondered. The Sandersons? She would have her bath, and if Margriet hadn’t returned by then she’d send Jane round to ask if she was there. Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled as she realized she had no one to ask for advice. She thought she had never been so unhappy in her life, while the loss of Frederik seemed to loom larger than it had ever done, even when she was first told of his tragic death.
The door was locked when Margriet arrived home at eight o’clock and she had to ring the bell. Mrs Simmonds answered the door instead of Jane. ‘Your mother is home, Miss Margriet,’ she said, ‘and not well pleased. With any of us,’ she added irritably.
Margriet went into the sitting room. Her mother was flushed and seemed exhausted. ‘Are you unwell, Mama?’
‘Just extremely tired and very anxious. Where ever have you been? Mrs Simmonds didn’t know where you were. It was most irresponsible of you not to tell her.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Margriet said penitently. ‘I’ve made some new friends and they asked me to go to the Hull Fair with them – and oh, it was wonderful.’
‘But alone, Margriet! You should not have gone alone!’
‘I wasn’t alone, Mama. I told you, I was with friends!’
Rosamund was too tired to argue. She was worn out with the journey, from being jolted and racketed about on the potholed road, and was longing for her bed.
When Margriet had sneaked out after the newly-weds had departed she’d walked swiftly towards Land of Green Ginger, turned the corner and then stood as usual as if waiting for someone, looking up at the window of the Lindegroens’ house. The curtains looked rather grey and she hoped they hadn’t gone away, as there were many questions she wanted to ask.
She waited a few more minutes but Anneliese did not appear, so she decided to walk towards Market Place. She had gone only a few steps when she heard someone hailing her and turned to see the two girls who had been with Billy on the day she had walked to the pier.
‘Hello,’ they chorused. ‘We’ve seen you before. We met you with Billy.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m Margriet. Do you live round here?’
‘No,’ one of the girls said, and grinned. ‘We’re just passing by.’
‘Do you?’ the other one asked. ‘Did you say you lived in Whitefriargate?’
‘Yes, I did,’ she said. ‘I do. Where are you going?’
‘To Market Place to see if any of ’gypsies have come.’
‘Gypsies? Why?’
‘Cos ’fair’s coming tomorrow and ’gypsies generally come first and bring their hosses and sometimes they let us have a ride.’
‘Oh, of course! It’s October,’ Margriet said. ‘I’d forgotten about the fair. My father used to take me when I was very little.’ A sob caught in her throat. It seemed such a long time ago.
‘Come with us if you like,’ one of the girls said, and Margriet said she’d love to and asked their names. Betty and Mabel, they said, and they were both fourteen.
‘I’m nearly fourteen,’ Margriet said. ‘At least, I will be next January.’
‘Come on then,’ Mabel said. ‘You’ll be all right with us.’
She had been all right with them, and they had met up with Billy and some of his friends. They also met the gypsies, who allowed the two girls to have a ride on the ponies, and they shrieked with excitement as the men ran alongside them egging them on to go faster. They had offered Margriet a ride too, but she was too shy and shrank back and they’d smiled and called her a little rawnie. Betty told her later that it meant little lady. They asked her to come with them the next day to see the fair folk arrive and she said she would if her mother would allow it, but her mother didn’t come home. Once more she had slipped out in the afternoon and met the others on the corner of Parliament Street and watched as the tumbling clowns, the drummers, the trumpeting elephants, and the roaring lions and tigers in their cages processed down Whitefriargate towards Market Place. She had a moment of fright when she saw Jane and Lily watching too, but they didn’t see her in the crowd. It had been a wonderful day, and because she had had the forethought to take a sixpence from her purse before leaving home she had offered to buy tickets to see a side show. Billy, Betty and Mabel had gazed at her in astonishment and shaken their heads and looked at each other. Then Mabel had become the spokesperson and said that if Margriet really wanted to spend the sixpence, would she buy a hot potato that they could share?
‘Is six
pence not enough to buy three?’ she had asked, and when they said it was she had handed the coin over to Mabel. It was then that Margriet had learned that her new friends not only had no money, but did not have anywhere to live either. They slept wherever they could find shelter, in a basement or a shop doorway; for food they begged for coppers or ran errands, and in the winter went to the soup kitchens that were run by Mrs Sanderson and other ladies.
‘She’s great is Sandy,’ Billy said, scraping the potato flesh from the skin with his teeth. ‘We all love her, and Immi as well. They never forget us.’
They didn’t buy tickets for any of the events because none of them had any money, but they had shown her how to lift a flap of a tent and creep in to watch without paying until they were spotted and thrown out. She had been scared of doing that as she knew that it was wrong, but nevertheless it was very exciting.
They are vagrants, she thought as she lay sleepless in her bed. She had come across the word in one of the books she had borrowed from the lending library, and later she discovered many other things about the town she lived in that amazed and delighted her.
Papa was right about the king’s garden and knocking old houses down to make Parliament Street, when he told me to imagine how it might have been before. What was it he had said? See it in your mind’s eye. What a strange thing to say and yet I could – I can. Thinking of her two days spent at the fair, she turned down the lamp and snuggled further into bed. The only question mark was over the name of Land of Green Ginger, because in the book no one seemed to know for sure why it was so called. She gave a secret smile. But I know.
But she hadn’t told her mother all of this for she knew she wouldn’t understand, and besides, Mama seems to be unhappy, and where is Mr Ramsey now?
Two days later William turned up, all smiles as if nothing untoward had happened. He greeted Margriet cordially, stayed three days and then went off again, saying he had business to attend to. He continued coming and going over the next few weeks, each time sleeping in the guest room, and Rosamund thought she could cope with that. He was with them on Christmas Day but didn’t return until the New Year, on the very day that she received a letter from her accountant.
‘I will see him, dearest,’ William told her when she said that Mr Clayton wanted to call to discuss several matters. ‘No need for you to worry about it.’
‘I would be grateful if you would,’ she said. ‘I really don’t have a head for figures.’
William kissed her cheek. ‘Why don’t you visit my sister whilst I talk to him,’ he suggested. ‘She was only saying the last time I saw her that you haven’t visited in weeks.’
‘It’s true, I haven’t.’ The fact was, Rosamund had thought that Lydia had been rather cool towards her when she had called after the wedding. Or perhaps it was her fault; she had been cross with William and perhaps was blaming Lydia. ‘I’ll send Jane with a card to say I will call, and I’ll take Margriet with me.’
‘Yes, do,’ he agreed. ‘It’s time Margriet grew up and took her place in the adult world. She’s becoming rather wild, I fear.’
Rosamund looked at him and wondered why he had said that, and what Frederik would have made of it, for he had thought his daughter could do no wrong.
It was a bitterly cold day when Rosamund and a reluctant Margriet set out to walk the short distance to High Street where the Percivals lived. Margriet didn’t want to call on them, but neither did she want to stay at home with Mr Ramsey, who, to add to her mistrust of him, had completely forgotten her fourteenth birthday.
A man was coming towards them as they walked down Silver Street, and he lifted his hat as they approached. ‘Mrs Van— erm, Ramsey,’ he corrected himself. ‘I was on my way to see you. Did you not receive my letter?’
‘I did,’ she said. ‘Mr Ramsey is at home and he will attend to any matters arising; you know how confused I get with figures.’
‘Ah!’ he said, putting his head on one side. ‘Well, if you’re sure? There are, erm, important matters to be attended to.’
She gave him a perfunctory smile. ‘Perfectly sure, Mr Clayton. Good day to you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
‘No, nothing untoward,’ William told Rosamund on her return from her visit to Lydia. ‘Clayton suggested that we might like to sell some of the shares in the company as business is good and the price has risen.’
‘In Frederik’s company, you mean? But why would we do that?’
‘Oh, purely to claim the profit.’ He smiled. ‘We could buy something, some new clothes, perhaps, if you would like? A piece of jewellery, some gewgaw for Margriet. I forgot her birthday, didn’t I?’ He pulled a downward mouth.
‘Mmm, you did. But there’s enough money in my allowance if I wanted to buy new clothes, and I don’t. I have enough.’
‘Oh, but that is your personal allowance. Clayton suggested that if some of the shares were sold, there would be a nice little nest egg to spend.’
‘I see. What do you think, William?’
‘Well,’ he said seriously, ‘shares and business stock go up and down, and at the moment I think we’d be as well selling some.’ He lifted a finger. ‘Not all of them, of course, just whilst they are so high. We’d be sorry if we didn’t and they dropped in price.’
‘If that happened we’d lose money on them, wouldn’t we?’
‘Exactly!’ He rubbed his short bristly beard. ‘What do you think, shall I instruct him?’
‘Oh, dear. I don’t know. Yes, if you think it wise to do so. You know more than I about this kind of thing. Yes. Tell him we’ll sell. He must think it’s a good idea if he made the suggestion.’
William took out his pocket watch and checked the time. ‘I’ll call round now and tell him, and he can instruct the broker before the end of day.’
‘Is that new?’ Rosamund asked. ‘I thought you had a silver one.’
‘What?’ He stood up to leave. ‘Oh, my Albert chain!’ He fingered the heavy gold links. ‘No, I’ve had it a long time. A family heirloom.’
Rosamund was perplexed; she had meant the gold watch, not the chain. It was a moment before she realized that William must have made a mistake – Prince Albert had set the fashion for wearing a chain so William’s couldn’t have been a family heirloom, because the queen and Albert had only been married for ten years. She gave a little shrug. Perhaps the watch was a family heirloom. A misunderstanding, nothing more.
When he returned, William was furious. ‘I wanted to get off to York first thing tomorrow,’ he said brusquely, ‘but that stupid fellow says that the broker will need your signature to sell the shares. I pointed out that you were married to me now and therefore I could deal with it, but he says not!’
‘Oh, there’s no need for you to stay if you need to be in York. When he comes with the papers he’ll show me where I should sign.’
‘No, I’ll wait. Another day won’t matter, I suppose.’ He chewed on his lip. ‘He could lose me a business deal, that’s all.’
‘Could I not sign something to say that you may deal with any of my concerns?’
‘I can in any case,’ he barked. ‘I don’t need your say-so! It’s the law of the land. What’s yours is mine. It’s just that your former husband seems to have made it awkward regarding the sale of shares. I’ll have to speak to the lawyer and find out what’s going on.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I’m sure Frederik only did it for the best. He was a very considerate man.’
He came up close and breathed into her face. ‘I dare say he was, but he can’t change the law.’
Rosamund was shocked by his attitude, and rather afraid. Although he didn’t touch her, she could see how angry he was, but why? She knew that women had few rights, every woman knew that; Frederik was unusual in that he had never used a penny of the dowry she had brought to their marriage, always saying that by rights that should be hers and not his, and he would support her and any children they might have, and he had. Her dowry, as far as
she knew, was still intact.
Mr Clayton brought the share papers for her signature the following day. ‘I do beg your pardon, Mr Ramsey, and yours too, Mrs Ramsey, for the inconvenience this might have caused, but the matter of buying and selling shares isn’t my field at all. It’s the broker who does that and he’s instructed by Mr Webster, who has the overall jurisdiction. However, I understand that there is a ready buyer for these and so the monies will be in your bank almost immediately.’
Rosamund signed where he indicated and wondered why Mr Clayton should have suggested they sell the shares if it wasn’t his field; it seemed most odd. It was also strange, she thought, that he seemed nervous of William and barely looked at him as he said goodbye.
‘I’m getting rid of him,’ William said when the door had closed behind him. ‘He’s useless. I’ll look after the accounts from now on. Why should we pay him for adding up figures when I can do it just as well?’
Rosamund nodded. ‘Of course. If that is what you think.’
‘It is,’ he said bluntly. ‘And now I’m off. I’ve wasted enough time already.’ His coat was hanging over the banister rail and he picked it up and turned to give Rosamund a peck on the cheek. ‘Lots to do. I’ll be back in about a week,’ and he was gone.
It was three weeks before he returned and he explained that he had been extremely busy. She asked him what he had been doing and he replied vaguely that he had fingers in many pies. For amusement only, he told her, for he didn’t really need an occupation as such, but he liked to be engaged in new projects. He didn’t ask her to return to York with him and she didn’t mind that in the least.
On the anniversary of their wedding in October he insisted on taking her to a country hotel near Bridlington to celebrate and gave her a gold necklace that delighted her. A week later he observed that the catch seemed loose and insisted on returning it to the jewellers. She told him that there were excellent jewellers in Silver Street who would be able to adjust it; she hadn’t noticed that there was a fault, but he said that it was an expensive piece of jewellery and he wanted a replacement.