Tears stung Jake’s eyes. It was what she’d always called him – all his life.
Letitia looked up. ‘Go and tell Meg that he’s safe, but leave him with me. Come back for him in a little while, Jake. He’ll be safe with me, I promise.’
Jake nodded, a lump in his throat. ‘I know that, Matron. Oh, I know that.’
He returned later to find Letitia in her room, cuddling the little boy. A tender smile on his face, Jake watched her bouncing the child on her knee.
‘You used to do that to me,’ he said softly.
Letitia looked up at him, her eyes misty. ‘Fancy you remembering that. You can’t have been very old.’
‘There’s a lot I remember, Matron. All the beatings you saved me from, even though mebbe I deserved them.’
‘Isaac was too hard on you. Harder on you than on anyone else, but maybe that was because . . .’ She avoided meeting his gaze now.
‘Because?’ he prompted, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing,’ was all she would say.
Jake sat down opposite and leant forward, smiling at the little boy. ‘He’s a grand little feller, isn’t he?’ The child turned and beamed at Jake. He seemed to have recovered remarkably quickly from his ordeal and was now gurgling happily. Jake caught his breath. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a strange likeness in the child. A likeness to someone he knew.
‘What’s the master going to do about Waters and this Miss Finch business?’
Letitia looked up at him, seeming suddenly nervous.
‘He ought to report it all to the police,’ Jake went on. ‘What they tried to do must be against the law, mustn’t it?’
‘He will. He’s going to.’ Then suddenly she burst into sobs.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
‘Can I trust you, Jake? I mean – really trust you?’ Her eyes were imploring him. Something was causing her great distress.
‘Of course you can,’ he reassured her.
‘You – you won’t make trouble?’
‘Well, it rather depends on what it is. If you’re planning to say nothing about what’s been going on here, then I’m not sure I can give you that promise.’ He put his head on one side and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it has something to do with the Finches, has it? The fact that he’s the chairman of the guardians? You and the master might lose your jobs if you report his sister?’
She sighed heavily and stroked the little boy’s hair gently. The child leant his head against her bosom and began to suck his thumb. His eyes closed and he slept. His action was so trusting, so loving almost, that above his head tears now ran down Letitia’s cheeks.
‘Yes, that comes into it, but it’s only part of it. I’ll have to tell you, Jake, even – even if it means I’ll – I’ll be in trouble with Isaac. You see, my brother’s had a hold over me all these years because – because of something in my past.’ She still held the child close to her, rocking him gently, but her whole attention was now on the young man sitting in front of her. ‘Oh, Jake, my precious boy, you won’t hate me, will you?’
‘Hate you?’ Jake was puzzled. ‘Why on earth should I do that? I’ve a lot to thank you for.’
Letitia was shaking her head. ‘You mightn’t think so when I’ve finished telling you.’ She paused, as if summoning up the courage, the strength to speak of things she’d kept hidden for years. ‘A long time ago,’ she began haltingly, ‘I had a baby boy.’
‘Yes,’ Jake said.
She looked up at him, startled. ‘You – you knew?’
‘It was said around the place that that was why you loved all the little boys because you’d had one and lost him.’
She stared at him and then slowly shook her head. ‘Oh, I didn’t lose him, Jake. But, you see, I wasn’t married and my family –’ her tone was suddenly bitter – ‘my loving family wanted me to go away to have the baby and then give it up for adoption. But I wouldn’t. I loved the baby’s father desperately, but – but he came from a good family and – and he – well – he didn’t want to know.’
It was a familiar, age-old story. Jake touched her arm. ‘Go on.’
She took another deep breath. ‘It happened about the time that Isaac’s wife – left. He said that if I came here and took her place – as matron – so that he could keep his job, he’d let me have the baby here as long as I never let it be known that the child was mine. So – I went away, had the baby and came back here. Isaac took the child in as an orphan . . .’ Her voice trailed away and she gazed into Jake’s eyes.
‘And what happened to your boy . . . ?’ Jake began and then realization began to seep into his mind. Pictures from the past came flitting into his mind and, suddenly, he knew. ‘It’s me, isn’t it? I’m – I’m your – your son.’
Letitia nodded and whispered. ‘Don’t hate me, Jake. Please don’t hate me.’
He stared at her for a moment. The revelation was overwhelming and yet he felt no bitterness towards her, certainly not hatred. She’d been given no choice. Like many girls before her and since, she had got into trouble and had been forced into what she had done.
‘No,’ he said hoarsely and touched her arm. ‘No, I understand. I understand it all. Perhaps – the only thing I could have wished is that you’d told me before now. Years ago. I’d’ve loved to have known you were my mam.’
Fresh tears flooded down her face. ‘I’m sorry, Jake. Oh, I’m so sorry, but Isaac forbade it and I was so afraid that if I told you he’d have me sent away from here and I’d never see you again.’
‘I know, I know.’ He put his arm around her shaking shoulders. ‘And don’t worry, he needn’t know you’ve told me now. We’ll keep it our little secret, eh? Nobody else need know, though I would like to tell Betsy. We – we don’t keep secrets from each other. But she’ll not say a word. I promise you.’
Letitia nodded.
‘Well, well, this is a day for surprises and no mistake,’ he joked, recovering himself a little, though he knew it would take him some time to realize that all these years he had had a mother and maybe a father too.
He hesitated a moment, but then he had to ask. ‘Don’t tell me if you really don’t want to, but – but who was my father?’
‘I – well – that’s the trouble, you see. I mean, the trouble we’ve got now. What I’m leading up to tell you.’
‘You mean there’s more?’ he teased and clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘I don’t know whether I can take much more in one day.’
But poor Letitia wasn’t smiling. She was looking even more afraid. ‘Your father was – is – Theobald Finch.’
‘Theobald Finch!’ Now Jake was astounded, rendered speechless. Letitia – his mother, as he must now think of her – nodded.
‘Theobald Finch,’ Jake repeated, wonderment in his tone. And then his voice hardened. ‘And he deserted you. Wanted nothing to do with you – or me.’ It was a statement of fact, not a question, but nevertheless, Letitia whispered, ‘Yes.’
‘But – but why? He had no ties. He wasn’t married . . .’ He paused briefly and then asked, ‘Was he?’
‘It – it was his parents – his father mainly – they were still alive then – and he said it was shaming the family name. He – his father, I mean – even said how did Theobald know the child was really his.’ Here Letitia hung her head, reliving the shame she had felt then. ‘I was so naive, Jake. So trusting. I loved him so much and – and I believed he loved me . . .’ Her voice trailed away sadly as she relived her broken dreams.
Jake squeezed her shoulders. ‘I don’t blame you, not for a minute. But couldn’t your family . . . Mr Pendleton . . .’ Not yet could Jake think of the master as his uncle Isaac. ‘Couldn’t they have done something?’
Letitia shook her head miserably. ‘Mr Finch, Theobald’s father, was the chairman of the guardians in those days and Isaac feared for his job.’
‘I see,’ Jake said grimly. And he did. He understood it all. How a you
ng girl had been seduced and abandoned just because the father of her lover held a position of power in the town. The same position that Theobald now held and, as Letitia began to speak again, Jake realized with horror that Theobald was now wielding that same power over other people’s lives.
‘I don’t know what to do, Jake,’ she began. ‘Waters told me that Clara Finch wants to adopt Meg’s boy. Has done ever since he was a baby. When he was born, she promised Meg everything – money, a house, even the shop – but Meg wouldn’t give up her child.’
Jake stared at her. ‘What on earth does Miss Finch want with the child?’
‘She wants to bring him up as her own. She wants to bring up Percy’s son. In some twisted way she thinks of him as the son she might have had with Percy. She wants him, Jake, and she’ll stop at nothing to get him.’
‘And Meg? You say she won’t let her have him, even though – even though –’ Jake was unwilling to voice the doubts in his mind, yet Letitia was being honest with him, he couldn’t be any less so with her – ‘Miss Finch used all sorts of . . . of . . .’
He hunted for the word and Letitia supplied it. ‘Inducements?’
He nodded and then murmured, ‘Well, well, wonders will never cease.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why,’ his tone hardened as he added, ‘Meg didn’t accept such a tempting offer.’
Letitia stared at him. To her, the reason was simple enough. ‘She loves her little boy, that’s why not.’
The child, still sleeping against her bosom, stirred and opened his eyes. At once, he beamed up at Jake.
‘Besides,’ Letitia said softly. ‘Just look at him, Jake. He’s no more Percy Rodwell’s child than you are. I’m guessing, of course, but who does he remind you of?’
Jake stared at the boy, who reached out with chubby arms to be lifted onto Jake’s knee, where he sat smiling up at him. Jake’s gaze roamed over the boy’s face. The fair curling hair, the bright blue eyes, the wide smile. Even in one so young, it was a reassuring kind of smile – a smile you could trust.
‘My God,’ Jake breathed. ‘He’s the spitting image of him, isn’t he? I knew he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think who it was.’
‘It looks as if the rumours were true after all, Jake,’ Letitia murmured.
He looked up and met her gaze. Solemnly he said, ‘He’s Dr Collins’s son, isn’t he?’
Fifty-Three
Meg reached out and took the boy from Jake and into her arms. She held him close and murmured endearments.
‘Ron says Mrs Benedict’s fine,’ Jake reassured her. ‘A few bruises, but angry more than hurt. She’ll not let the matter rest, though, I can tell you, whatever the Pendletons do or don’t do.’
Meg sighed with relief. ‘I’m glad. She’s been very good to me, but I don’t suppose she wants me back. I was going to have to leave anyway soon. We had a letter from the new owner’s solicitor. She’s not going to be allowed to have lodgers.’
Jake was grinning. ‘Well, I think you needn’t worry about that any more. The new owner is Theobald Finch, and after what his sister’s been up to I don’t think he’ll make any more trouble. In fact –’ Jake wrinkled his forehead and added shrewdly – ‘maybe he knew nothing about it. It might’ve been just Clara up to her tricks.’
‘So – you mean, I can go back to Mrs Benedict’s.’
Jake nodded. ‘Whenever you’re ready. I’ll take you back in the cart.’
But Meg was shaking her head. ‘No, no. I’ll walk. I could do with some fresh air after that awful cell. And as for Robbie –’ She stroked his hair and her eyes softened – ‘well, to think of him being shut in that – that box.’ She couldn’t bring herself to call it a coffin.
‘He’ll soon forget about it,’ Jake said gently. ‘It’ll soon seem like a bad dream for the little chap. That’s all.’
‘I hope so,’ Meg said fervently. ‘Oh, Jake, I don’t know how to thank you.’ She touched his arm.
Watching them together, Betsy’s heart turned cold. There was a fire in Jake’s eyes when he looked at Meg that Betsy had never seen before. It was never there when he looked at her. And she could see it too in Meg’s eyes. It was as if they belonged together, as if only a cruel Fate kept them apart. Fate – and her, Betsy thought. If he wasn’t married to her, then . . .
She turned away. She didn’t want to see any more, didn’t want to see the love in Jake’s eyes when he looked at Meg. But he called to her, held out his arm. ‘Come, Betsy, let’s go with Meg to the gate. And bring Fleur to say “hello” to young Robbie here.’
Stony-faced, Betsy carried her daughter and watched as the two babies reached out their chubby arms to each other, gurgling and crowing. Jake and Meg looked on fondly, but it took Betsy all her resolve not to snatch her daughter away.
They walked to the end of the yard and stood awkwardly at the gate. Meg turned to Jake. There were tears in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Jake,’ she said simply. ‘For – for everything.’
Jake put his arms around her and held her and the little boy in her arms close to him. There was no need for words. His forgiveness was complete and Meg knew it. As Jake stepped back and looked down into Meg’s upturned face, Betsy felt as if her heart would break. It was torture for her to watch Jake gently wipe away the tears on Meg’s face. She almost turned and ran, yet something held her there.
‘Be happy, Meggie,’ Jake murmured.
She nodded and whispered hoarsely, ‘You too, Jake. You too.’ For a brief moment her eyes met Betsy’s. ‘Look after him,’ she whispered.
She’s giving him back to me, Betsy thought in surprise. She knows she only has to say the word and he’ll go with her, but she’s not going to do that. She’s not going to take him from me. Unable to speak, Betsy nodded and moved closer to Jake. She put her arm around his waist, laying claim to him.
Meg nodded, gave one last tremulous smile to Jake and then turned away. She hitched up her little boy to sit on her hip and walked away from them down the lane without looking back.
Jake took Fleur into his arms. She was whimpering and holding out her arms towards the little boy, who was being carried away from her.
‘There, there,’ Jake said absently, his gaze still on Meg as she walked further and further away.
They watched until she turned the bend in the lane and was lost to their sight. Jake let out a deep sigh, as if, finally, he was letting Meg go. ‘She’ll be all right,’ he murmured softly. ‘She’s a fighter, is Meg. She’ll be –’ his gaze still lingered on the spot in the lane where she had disappeared – ‘fine.’
Then, seeming to shake himself, he pulled Betsy closer and kissed her forehead. Smiling down at her, he asked, ‘Now then, wife, what’s for mi tea?’
Fairfield Hall
Margaret Dickinson
A matter of honour. A sense of duty. A time for courage.
Ruthlessly ambitious Ambrose Constantine is determined that his daughter, Annabel, shall marry into the nobility. A self-made trawler owner and fish merchant, he has only his wealth to buy his way into Society.
When Annabel’s secret meetings with a young man employed at her father’s offices stop suddenly, she finds that Gilbert has mysteriously disappeared. Heartbroken, she finds solace with her grandparents on their Lincolnshire farm, but her father will not allow her to bury herself in the countryside and enlists the help of a business connection to launch his daughter into Society.
During the London Season, Annabel is courted by James Lyndon, the Earl of Fairfield, whose country estate is only a few miles from her grandfather’s farm. Believing herself truly loved at last, Annabel accepts his offer of marriage. It is only when she arrives at Fairfield Hall that she realises the true reason behind James’s proposal and the part her scheming father has played.
Through the years that follow, Annabel will know both heartache and joy, but the birth of her son should secure the future of the Fairfield Estate. Yet there ar
e others who lay claim to the inheritance in a feud that will not be resolved until the trenches of a bitter world war.
ISBN: 978-1-4472-3724-2
Acknowledgements
The Workhouse at Southwell, Nottinghamshire, which has been magnificently restored by the National Trust, is the inspiration for the setting of this novel. However, the characters and story are entirely fictitious and have no relation whatsoever to any inmates or staff, past or present.
My love and thanks, as always, to my family and friends for their constant support, help and encouragement.
Without Sin
Born in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, Margaret Dickinson moved to the coast at the age of seven and so began her love for the sea and the Lincolnshire landscape. Her ambition to be a writer began early and she had her first novel published at the age of twenty-five. This was followed by twenty-five further titles including Plough the Furrow, Sow the Seed and Reap the Harvest, which make up her Lincolnshire Fleethaven trilogy. Many of her novels are set in the heart of her home county but in Tangled Threads and Twisted Strands, the stories include not only Lincolnshire but also the framework knitting and lace industries of Nottingham. Her 2012 novel, Jenny’s War, was a top twenty best seller.
www.margaret-dickinson.co.uk
ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
Plough the Furrow
Sow the Seed
Reap the Harvest
The Miller’s Daughter
Chaff upon the Wind
The Fisher Lass
The Tulip Girl
The River Folk
Tangled Threads
Twisted Strands
Red Sky in the Morning
Pauper’s Gold
Wish Me Luck
Sing As We Go
Suffragette Girl
Without Sin Page 36