by Linda Finlay
Linda Finlay
* * *
A FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Acknowledgements
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For My Family – I love each and every one of you
1
There had been no joy this day. It had in fact been the most miserable Christmas she could remember, Eliza thought, shivering beneath her thin cover.
The time had dragged with no cheer, no presents or special meal. Her father had been in a foul mood, and her two younger brothers so fractious it had taken all her energy keeping them out of his way. Even her mother had taken to her bed, saying she felt poorly. If only her two elder sisters had come home for the holiday things might have been better.
At nearly fifteen years old, Eliza was too grown up to be sharing a room with her parents, even with the dividing curtain supposedly affording her privacy, but their moorland cottage was so tiny she had little choice. Drawing up her knees for warmth, she closed her eyes and dreamed of happier times.
Suddenly she was jolted awake by her parents’ violent arguing.
‘But how could it have happened, woman?’ her father roared.
Her mother gave a harsh laugh. ‘If you don’t know by now, Fred, then I’m not going to be the one to tell you. You’ve only yourself to blame. Since being on short time at the mine, you’ve thought of nothing else but your carn …’
‘It’s not my fault the copper’s running out,’ he cut in. ‘If rumours are true, I’ll be out of a job come the New Year, and let me tell you this, I’ll not be sitting here listening to another blubbering brat bawling its eyes out. Anyhow, we’ll probably be out on the streets by then. No job, no pay; no rent money, no home.’
As her mother’s sobs filled the room, Eliza’s heart turned over but it was her father’s next words that turned her already chilled body to ice.
‘And as for that good-for-nothing feeble filly through there, she’s naught but a burden. Why, she can’t even get a job. And as for marriage prospects, let’s face it, no decent man will want a wife who’s clumsy and looks like a …’
‘Hush, Fred, she’ll hear you,’ her mother whispered. But her father was in his stride.
‘She puts a drain on our meagre budget and what for? So she can spend her time picking flaming flowers to put in that blooming box of hers.’
‘That’s not fair, Fred. Eliza helps me with the little uns. Besides, it wasn’t her fault she was born frail and with that twisted foot.’
‘Pah, cloven hoof, you mean,’ he snorted. ‘She’s a devil child, the curse of our lives. If I had my way …’
Hearing the crack of his belt, Eliza cowered further down the straw-filled mattress, her heart beating faster than the pistons on the mine steam train. She hardly dare breathe in case he heard and tore back the curtain, as he had before. The creaking of the old bedstead as he slumped on his mattress signalled the end of their discussion and she let out a sigh of relief. Safe for another night she might be, but she couldn’t carry on like this.
As her father’s guttural snores filled the room she planned her escape. She knew she couldn’t steal away before dawn, for it was true her movements were clumsy and would be certain to wake the household.
With the first streaks of grey stealing through the window, Eliza heard her parents rise. Still bickering, they clattered noisily down the stairs. There was the slamming of the door as her father went out to the privy and the banging of pots as her mother prepared breakfast. Having quickly dressed in her warmest clothes, Eliza gathered together her few remaining garments and carefully wrapped them around the precious box her grandfather had carved for her. She waited until she heard her father stamping his way down the road towards the mine, then, knowing her mother would be busy feeding her brothers, she stole out of the cottage.
The biting wind took her breath away and she almost changed her mind. But with her father’s words still ringing in her ears, she snatched up a piece of sacking hanging by the door and threw it round her shoulders, securing it with a knot. Then, with a stick to help her, she headed west, away from the Mole Valley Mine. She hoped there’d be work that day, because all the families for miles around relied on the mine for their survival. Of course, there’d been rumours that the copper seam was running out, but it was still a shock to hear the mine could soon close for good. Now her poor mother was pregnant again. No wonder she’d taken to her bed yesterday; she must have been worried sick. There was no way Eliza could stay and add to her burden, but now she’d made her escape, where should she go?
Drawing the sacking tighter round her, she doggedly picked her way over the frosted grasses of Grampy Ridge. It wasn’t really called that, of course but, playing there as children, she and her sisters decided it looked like an old man and the name had stuck. Of course, that was years ago, when her own beloved grandfather had been alive. Oh, Grampy, she thought, if only you were here to guide me and tell me what to do. As the terrain became steeper, she began to stumble and knew if she was to put any real distance between her and the cottage, she needed to head for flatter ground.
Realizing the sounds of the mine had faded into the distance, Eliza leaned on her stick and peered around to get her bearings. A watery sun was bravely breaking the clouds, and far below she could make out a line of hedging, which surely meant there was a lane beyond. With her foot dragging, progress was slow, but finally she reached a stile and laboriously clambered over it. Once in the lane, she slumped against a mile stone while she regained her breath. She idly traced the letters before they registered. It was only four miles to Buckland. Her spirits lifted. Of course! Her sisters, Hester and Izzie, worked at the manor there and would be sure to help her. She continued her journey with renewed vigour and a definite purpose.
Although the ground was flatter now, the track was deeply rutted and strewn with dislodged stones. Hefting her bundle higher onto her shoulder, she picked her way carefully round them, trying to ignore her rumbling stomach. She should have grabbed some breakfast before slipping away, but the
n her mother would have returned to bed, expecting Eliza to look after the little ones. Recalling the scene from the previous night, she shivered. Of course, she’d known her father had taken against her but when she’d asked her mother why she’d said it was because, having two daughters already, he’d been hoping for a son. Yet, even when her mother had given birth to two boys in later years, Father’s feelings towards Eliza hadn’t changed. Her mother did her best to stand up for her but she was weak, always backing down when his temper was roused.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the horse and cart until it pulled up alongside her.
‘Need a lift?’ a cheery voice called out. She looked up to see a young man grinning at her. Instinctively, she smiled back.
‘I’m heading for Buckland Manor.’
‘Well, isn’t that a coincidence, that’s where I’m taking this lot,’ he said, nodding to the load piled up behind him. ‘Jump up.’
Gratefully, she tossed her bundle onto the seat and began clambering up after it. Seeing her awkward movements, he leaned over to help, but she shot him such a defiant look he busied himself with the reins instead. Patiently he waited until she was settled, then called to the horse to move on.
‘You visiting someone, then?’ he said, jerking his head towards her bundle.
‘My sisters, Hester and Izzie Watts, work at the manor. I’m Eliza,’ she added with a smile in case her rebuttal had offended him.
He nodded and grinned back. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Eliza. Carrot Top at your service.’
‘That’s never your real name,’ she exclaimed.
Winking, he lifted his cap and tufts of ginger hair sprang to attention. ‘’Fraid so, but you can call me Carrots,’ he said. Then his manner became serious.
‘You’ll not be catching Hester at the manor. Her ladyship’s gone to Barnstaple for the festivities and Hester, being her personal maid, has gone with her. Izzie will be there, though, helping in the kitchens.’ He turned to look at her. ‘She’s a bonny maid and I can certainly see the resemblance.’
‘Oh, Izzie always had the looks,’ Eliza answered, looking down at her feet as she recalled her father’s words.
‘And she’s not the only one, if you don’t mind my saying. Mind you, I’ve seen more meat on a sparrow.’ Despite the chill wind, Eliza felt her cheeks grow warm. He must be jesting for, with her hazel eyes and straight brown hair, she was really quite plain. Izzie, on the other hand, had eyes the colour of a summer sky and hair like sun-ripened corn. Sighing, she changed the subject.
‘Do you work at the manor?’
‘I help out in the grounds, for my sins, although Bert, the head gardener, says I’m more hindrance than help. Of course, my mistaking his prize leeks for weeds didn’t help.’
‘You never did!’ Eliza exclaimed, then saw his lips twitch and knew he was teasing. A bitter gust of wind caught them full in the face and she shivered.
‘’Tis a right lazy wind today and no mistake,’ Carrots said with a shake of his head.
‘Pardon?’ she asked.
Laughing at her puzzled look, he explained, ‘Goes right through you instead of round you.’ He reached behind and grabbed a blanket. ‘Here, put this over you before you catch your death.’
Gratefully, she draped the warm cover around her shoulders, snuggling into the soft, fleecy material. As the warmth penetrated her chilled body, she stared around at the passing landscape with interest. She’d never been this far west before. Here, where the protective beech hedges neatly lined both sides of the track and the chequered pattern of green fields rolled gently into the distance, was completely different from the harsh, windswept uplands she’d just left.
‘Where does this lane lead?’ she asked.
‘Town of Barnstaple eventually. ’Tis a fair hike but that’s where you’d end up. Anyhow, this is where we leave it,’ Carrots said, as the horse automatically turned left and slowed by a gatehouse.
Carrots tipped his cap and was waved on through the archway. The driveway beyond was flanked with tall trees which stood proud like sentinels, in front of which wobbly hedges lined the gravelled sweep.
‘Why are all those hedges leaning over like that?’ Eliza asked. ‘They seem at odds with everything else being so tidy.’
He laughed. ‘Something to do with his lordship’s ancestors, I think. Apparently it denotes a significant happening, though don’t ask me what. They just look to me like they’ve had one too many,’ he added with a grin.
Eliza shook her head, then gasped as she caught her first sight of the manor. It was a magnificent pink stone building sporting a castellated roof from which tall chimneys soared skywards. The formal lawns were dotted with ornate little pavilions and she was just thinking how marvellous it would be to work in such a grand place when the cart tilted as it veered left onto a narrower path that led round to the back of the building and she had to hang on to the side of the seat.
‘Do you want me to tell Izzie you’re here?’ Carrots asked, jumping down and helping her from the cart.
Before she could reply a gruff voice shouted, ‘There you are, Topper. Get a move on with them supplies, will you?’
‘Coming, guv,’ Carrots shouted, then turned to Eliza. ‘Best do as I’m bid. The servants’ entrance is over there.’ He pointed to an annexe on the side of the building.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said, taking her bundle and stick, then heading for the door he’d indicated.
‘Take care of yourself, Eliza. Tell Izzie I’ll see her in the usual place, usual time,’ he called after her.
Although she rang the bell nobody answered. As she dithered, wondering what to do, another gust caught her sideways, nearly blowing her off her feet. Tentatively she turned the knob and to her surprise the door opened. Anxious to be out of the gale, she stepped inside and stood looking around. Compared to the cottage, even here in the servants’ quarters the furnishings seemed quite grand and she was just admiring the artistically arranged holly and ivy when a strident voice made her jump. Looking up, she saw a stern-faced woman, dressed in black, glaring at her over the polished balustrade.
‘Be off with you. We don’t want any beggars here.’ Eliza looked down at her mud-spattered skirts and worn boots, and grimaced. She should have thought to tidy herself up.
‘I’m not a beggar,’ she said, ignoring the woman’s terse manner. ‘I’ve come to see Izzie, she’s …’
But the woman was having none of it. ‘Out I said and out I meant,’ she shouted, pointing to the door Eliza had entered by.
‘But …’
‘Now, or I’ll have Bert set the dogs on you,’ she snarled, looking so fierce Eliza couldn’t help thinking that with a face like that, they surely didn’t need to keep dogs. Knowing it would serve no purpose to protest further, she squared her shoulders and retraced her steps.
2
As soon as she was safely outside, Eliza collapsed against the wall, fighting back her tears. What was she to do now? Suddenly a window nearby was flung open, and she was engulfed her in a balloon of steam. Once it had cleared, she saw a jolly-faced woman beckoning. Eliza moved closer.
‘Come to see Izzie, did I hear you say?’
Eliza nodded, glancing apprehensively back at the door. She didn’t want to get her sister into trouble.
‘Don’t mind the housekeeper, dearie. She’s had her nose put out ’cos her ladyship left her behind. My, you look perishing. Take yourself down to the summerhouse and wait in there.’ She indicated the direction. ‘Izzie’s due a break. I’ll send her down. You hungry?’ she
asked. Then when Eliza nodded again: ‘Off you go then and I’ll see what I can rustle up.’
The window snapped shut and, feeling more cheerful, Eliza hurried down the path with its neatened borders. The red sandstone outbuilding with its ornate portico was bigger than the family cottage and she couldn’t believe how luxuriously furnished it was inside. Thankful to be out of the biting wind she sat on one of the seats, sinking right into the plush crimson cushions, and closed her eyes.
‘Eliza, I couldn’t believe it when Cook said you were here.’
Eliza started as the door opened and Izzie was blown in on yet another gust. Jumping up, she waited while her sister carefully set a tray down on the wooden table, then threw her arms around her.
‘Oh, Izzie, it is good to see you. You’re looking well and so smart,’ she exclaimed, noticing how grown up her sister looked in her smart pale blue and white pinafore.
‘Afraid I can’t say the same about you, sis. You always were like a string bean but now you look positively starved. Here, have some of Cook’s stew.’ She handed Eliza a steaming bowl. It smelled delicious and she tucked in ravenously. Izzie looked on indulgently. ‘It’s chicken,’ she informed her. ‘And I helped make it. Well, I chopped up the vegetables, anyway. Cook baked fresh bread this morning, too.’
Whilst Eliza ate, her sister told her about the Christmas party the staff had held, and how Hester was now her ladyship’s maid. Then, when Eliza had mopped the last vestiges of gravy with the generous crust that accompanied it, she turned and took her hand.
‘What’s up, Eliza? Why have you come all this way? There’s nothing wrong with Mother, is there?’ she asked, her eyes clouding with concern.
Eliza shook her head. ‘Mother’s expecting again, but she’s all right. It’s Father …’
‘He hasn’t hurt you, has he?’ Izzie asked, perceptive as ever.
‘Oh, Izzie, it was terrible. He called me a devil child and said no man would ever want me. The mine’s closing, you see, and he said I was a burden on the household budget so I decided to leave.’ The words tumbled out in a rush and she took a deep breath. ‘Do you think I could come and work here?’ she asked.