Charlotte glanced across the room towards Miles. ‘Mr Thornton too? Was he wounded?’
‘Twice, I think, but fortunately not seriously, though the last injury ended the war early for him. I had to wait until the very last month of the war, would you believe, before I got myself a Blighty wound. Still, we should be grateful. We’re both still here. So many of our fellow soldiers aren’t.’
‘It was a dreadful time,’ Charlotte murmured. ‘The papers were full of casualty lists every day and almost every family had someone involved. And waiting for the dreaded telegram . . .’
‘I know. And then the influenza that swept the country at the end of ’eighteen. I lost my wife and child in that epidemic.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He shrugged and sighed. ‘I wasn’t the only one who’d lost loved ones. All those mothers and wives losing their men in the war. And Miles, too, losing poor Louisa in childbirth.’
‘What – what was she like?’
‘Louisa? A lady in the very best sense of the word. Beautiful, charming, but with a deliciously wicked sense of humour. I can see a lot of her in Georgie. He’s a charmer, isn’t he, but in a nice way?’
Charlotte laughed. ‘He most certainly is. He’s adorable.’
She saw Felix glance down at her left hand. ‘You’re not married, Charlotte?’ She was startled, but pleasantly surprised, at the use of her Christian name after such a short acquaintance, but perhaps, she thought, that’s how things were done in the artistic world. She felt a sudden pang of longing; not, for once, to be married, but to be part of the exciting world of artists.
‘No – no, I’m not.’ She was stuck now for a topic of conversation and suddenly felt her inadequacy in socializing. But, like the perfect host, Miles arrived at her shoulder. ‘I’m so glad you and Felix are getting to know one another. I’ve heard a whisper that you are an artist too, Miss Charlotte.’
Now Charlotte blushed. ‘No – oh no,’ she protested. ‘Please – I don’t deserve such a title.’
Miles chuckled. ‘That’s not what I’ve heard. You’re being modest.’
‘No, no, really I’m not. I love drawing and painting – that’s true. But I’ve no talent. It’s just a hobby.’ She glanced across at her father as she added, ‘A secret hobby.’
‘A secret?’ Felix was scandalized. ‘You should never keep a talent hidden, my dear. You should be proud of it.’ He linked his arm through hers as dinner was announced and the guests moved through to the dining room. ‘Now, I shall insist I see your work. I will tell you – truthfully – if you have any talent.’
Charlotte smiled, but said no more as Georgie appeared at her other side and took her hand. ‘You’re sitting by me, Miss Charlotte. I arranged all the places especially.’
‘I see you have an admirer, my dear,’ Felix whispered. ‘But I do hope I’m placed on your other side.’
Indeed he was, and by the end of the evening, Charlotte could not remember ever having enjoyed herself so much. She’d even managed to ignore her father’s glowering looks from the other end of the table. She’d been monopolized by Felix and Georgie, so there’d been only a brief exchange of words between herself and Cuthbert Iveson. And she had the feeling that he was avoiding being seen talking to her. Besides, at the dinner table it was Euphemia who held sway, regaling them all with tales from their days of living abroad. As for Osbert, his attention was taken up by Philip sitting opposite him.
Miles sat at the head of the table, surveying his guests and making sure they were looked after and entertained. He watched Charlotte and Felix talking and was fascinated by how the girl’s face came alive as she talked and listened to Felix. But she was attentive to Georgie, too, turning every so often to make sure he was not left out.
She’s a kindly soul, he thought, who deserves a better life than the one she’s got.
As the party broke up at about eleven, Felix squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t know when I last enjoyed myself so much.’
‘Nor me,’ Charlotte said with guileless honesty.
‘And you must let me see your work. I’m staying the weekend with Miles. Perhaps you could come over tomorrow and bring some of your drawings and paintings. I—’
‘What’s that?’ Her father was at her side. He had his hat and coat on and was carrying his walking stick.
‘I was just asking your daughter—’
‘Oh please,’ Charlotte whispered, suddenly frantic. ‘Don’t—’
‘You’re the artist fellow, aren’t you?’ Without waiting for a response, Osbert turned on Charlotte. ‘What have you been saying? Making a fool of yourself again, I don’t doubt.’
He grasped her arm and began to pull her towards the door. ‘Get yourself home. You’re a disgrace. I wish you’d never been born. I’d rather be childless than saddled with you.’
The other guests stood rooted to the spot, shocked to the core by the vicious words spilling from his mouth. Miles stepped forward, but Osbert was already pushing her down the steps and into the waiting motor car. Though Miles hurried after them, Osbert slammed the door and the vehicle moved off before he could reach it. He returned to his other guests, still standing where he’d left them.
Euphemia found her voice at last. ‘I see my dear brother hasn’t changed in all these years. That poor girl.’
It was a sentiment echoed by all of them, except one. Philip Thornton turned away with a smirk on his face.
When they arrived back at Buckthorn Farm, Osbert hustled her into the house through the door Edward was holding open.
‘Stay here,’ Osbert commanded. ‘Morgan – see that she does, else it’ll be the worse for you.’
White-faced, Charlotte watched her father mount the stairs.
‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ Edward whispered urgently as soon as Osbert was out of earshot.
‘There was an artist there. Felix Kerr. And Miles – Mr Thornton’ – she had begun to think of him as ‘Miles’ in her head – ‘told him that – that I painted.’
‘Oh dear!’ Edward murmured.
‘Yes,’ Charlotte said flatly. ‘Oh dear.’
Osbert had reached the top of the stairs, had turned to the left and disappeared. They both heard the door of Charlotte’s room being flung open, crashing back against the wardrobe that stood behind it. Then the sound of crashing, things being swept off a table, pots and paints scattered and, finally, whilst Charlotte closed her eyes and cringed, the sound of tearing paper.
‘Come on, love.’ Edward put his arm about her shoulders. ‘Let’s go to the kitchen.’
Dumbly, she allowed him to lead her, stumbling, through the door and into the warm, comforting kitchen. She was shaking. Mary, knitting by the range, let her work fall to the floor as she got up. Her worried eyes went to her husband.
‘It’s him,’ Edward said shortly. ‘He’s upstairs in her room, destroying everything, by the sounds of it.’
‘Destroying?’
‘Her paintings. Just because some chap at the dinner party – an artist – took an interest.’
‘In her,’ Mary asked shrewdly, ‘or in her paintings?’
‘Both, I expect.’
‘Come on, lovey. Sit down. I’ll make us some cocoa. Edward can go up in a bit and see if the coast’s clear.’
Mary was pouring hot milk into a mug, when they all heard footsteps in the passage and the door was flung open. Osbert came in, brandishing his stick. Bravely, Edward leapt up and stood in front of Charlotte.
‘Out of my way, man. This is between me and my hussy of a – daughter.’ He spat out the last word with venom.
He raised his stick, but Edward stood firm. ‘You’ll not hit her again. Not ever, not whilst I’m in this house.’
‘Then you can pack your bags and go. The pair of you. You and your good-for-nothing wife.’
‘Gladly, but if we do,’ Edward said with surprising calm, ‘Miss Charlotte goes with us. We’ll not leave her here to your tender mercies,’ he added wi
th sarcasm.
‘And where d’you think you’ll go, eh? The workhouse – the three of you.’
‘Mebbe that’d be preferable to staying here. Aye, I reckon it would, an’ all. But dun’t you forget, sir,’ Edward grabbed the stick and twisted it out of Osbert’s hand, ‘that me an’ my missis know a few secrets, now, don’t we? We’ve only stayed here all these years and kept silent for her sake. Not yourn. Never yourn.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ Osbert’s voice was a whisper now – a menacing, terrifying whisper. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Oh we would. Believe me, we would. Because she’s old enough now to know the truth. And now that Miss Charlotte’s aunt has come back, well, she’s someone of her own flesh and blood to turn to, hasn’t she?’
‘My sister will keep her nose out of my affairs, if she knows what’s good for her.’
‘I doubt you have any hold over her now – that is, if you ever had.’
‘Oh, I had. I still have, because I doubt she’s ever told that milksop of a husband of hers the truth about herself. She was a whore, that’s what my dear sister was. Still is, by the look of the way she dresses. I won’t have her corrupting her.’ He stabbed his finger towards Charlotte. Irrationally, at such a moment of drama, Charlotte realized that she couldn’t remember when her father had ever called her by her name. She had always been ‘girl’, ‘her’, ‘she’ or even, on occasions, ‘it’.
Seeing that he was not going to get beyond the stronger, fitter Edward, Osbert turned away. ‘Go on, then. Get out. Do your worst. See if I care. There’s plenty more to take your place. And you can take her with you – and welcome. I never wanted her in the first place.’
As the door swung to behind him, the three in the kitchen were left staring at it.
Twenty-Eight
The following morning Charlotte rose with bleary eyes and a heavy heart. Whilst she’d never been really overwhelmingly happy, she’d never been sad. She’d never realized that her life should, and could, be very different. But now the misery lay like a heavy weight on her chest.
I’ll go and see Jackson, she thought. Maybe he’s well enough to talk to me. But it was Peggy who opened the door of their cottage and when Charlotte saw her face, her own worries were forgotten.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Peggy?’
The woman’s face was pale and drawn – no doubt from the illness. But the anguish it showed could have nothing to do with a bout of influenza. For a moment Peggy stared at her, almost as if she didn’t recognize her. The older woman was locked in some private grief that obliterated everything else.
‘Is it Joe?’
Mutely, Peggy shook her head.
‘One of the others, then? Are they worse? Have you called the doctor again? You must—’
‘No, miss.’ Peggy’s voice was husky with weariness following a sleepless night. Her eyes were dark hollows and her mouth quivered. She was close to tears. ‘Please, miss. I can’t say. Just leave us.’
‘No, I won’t. There’s something obviously very wrong. And I want to help.’
‘You can’t help. Nobody can.’ Peggy’s voice was flat, drained of emotion. For some reason her world was in tatters.
‘Don’t shut me out, Peggy.’ Charlotte touched her hand. ‘You’re like my family. You, Joe, the boys – ’ She forced a smile, trying to cheer Peggy somehow. ‘Even that little rapscallion, Tommy. And Lily, too.’
At the mention of her daughter’s name, Peggy’s mouth trembled. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Miss Charlotte . . .’ She covered her face with her hands and as Charlotte stepped forward to put her arms round her, Peggy wept against her shoulder.
‘You can tell me,’ Charlotte murmured against her ear. ‘Whatever it is. You know it will go no further.’
Peggy sniffed, raised her head and scrubbed at her face with the corner of her apron. ‘It’ll get round eventually, miss. Bound to. You can’t keep summat like this secret for long. Everyone’ll know soon enough.’
‘Then—?’
‘But we’re so ashamed, miss. We never thought summat like this’d happen to our little family. We’ve tried to bring the bairns up proper. To know right from wrong. But this – it’s destroying my Joe. Lily was the apple of his eye and now she’s brought shame on all the family.’
Realization began to dawn in Charlotte’s mind. ‘She’s – she’s not – ?’
Peggy nodded. ‘She’s got ’ersen into trouble.’
‘Who’s the – the father?’
‘She won’t say. We thought it might be Eddie Norton. You know, the stable lad at the manor. Seems he’s always been sweet on our Lily. But Jackson went to see him. Gave him a bit of a leathering, I reckon, but the lad still denied it. When they’d both calmed down, Jackson says Eddie was genuinely shocked.’
‘She really won’t tell you? But – but surely – I mean, perhaps they could get married.’
‘She’s shut up like a clam and barricaded herself in her bedroom. Well, I say her bedroom. It’s Tommy’s room now, ’cept when she comes home for a night or two. Then he moves in with the boys. They’ve got Grandad’s old room.’ She sobbed afresh. ‘All Joe can say is, “Thank God me poor ol’ dad’s not here to see this.”’
Charlotte caught her breath. When Lily comes home, Peggy had said. Of course, the girl spent most of the time at the manor now as a live-in maid. A shudder ran through her as brief images flashed into her memory. Lily emerging from one of the outbuildings and Philip appearing moments later; Lily and Philip holding hands in the icy weather. Lily and Philip . . . Oh, surely not.
Charlotte hugged Peggy again, feeling tears stinging her own eyes too. Then she stood back and said briskly, ‘Now, come along, let’s see what we can do to sort this out. May I come in?’
‘I don’t know, miss, Joe won’t—’
‘Never mind Joe. I’ll deal with him.’
With a sigh Peggy gave way. She was obviously troubled about her husband’s reaction as she led Charlotte through the back scullery and into the kitchen, but Joe didn’t even look up. He was sitting hunched in front of the range, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. And, at this moment, Charlotte thought, no doubt it felt as if it did.
‘Joe?’ She sat down opposite him and reached across the hearth to touch his hand. ‘Joe, don’t be angry with Peggy. I want to help. What can I do?’
Slowly, he raised his head and stared at her for a moment. In a low, defeated tone, he said, ‘There’s nowt can be done, Miss Charlotte. If she won’t even tell us who the – the bastard is, who’s—’ For a brief moment he was roused out of lethargy by the anger surging through him.
Peggy stood between them, wringing her hands. ‘She – we ought to tell them at the manor. She – won’t be going back.’
‘Leave it!’ Joe snapped and then said more calmly, ‘leave it for now. They’ll think she’s still looking after us. It can wait a day or two. Till I’ve got me head round it.’ He paused and added heavily, ‘If I ever do.’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘Oh Lily. My Lily. My little girl,’ he moaned, his shoulders shaking, whilst Peggy looked helplessly at Charlotte.
Charlotte waited patiently, until Joe became calmer. ‘Joe, I promise I won’t do anything behind your back – without your permission, but I really believe I could help you. Will you trust me?’
Slowly, he raised his head. ‘Miss Charlotte, I’d trust you wi’ me life. I know you’d never knowingly do anything to hurt me and mine. But, I beg you, don’t tell anyone. Not yet.’
Charlotte bit her lip. ‘I understand how you feel, Joe, but I may not have much time.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Charlotte sighed. ‘There’s been trouble at home. My father’s more or less told me to leave. Mary and Edward too. At the moment, I don’t know if he was serious or whether it was just said in a fit of temper. All I know is my own future is uncertain.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It seems my father intends to leave all hi
s worldly goods to someone else, leaving me penniless. Even I never thought his bitterness went quite so deep.’
She saw the glance that passed between husband and wife and a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. ‘You – you knew?’
Joe looked guilty and Peggy wouldn’t meet her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, miss. Mr Thornton told us in confidence.’
‘And did he tell you too,’ Charlotte added bitterly, ‘that my father tried to – to blackmail him into marrying me to ensure his son’s future?’
Joe nodded and Charlotte felt the flush of embarrassed shame creep into her face. But then she sighed. It wasn’t the fault of these good people. They’d been put in an invidious position. Again, she reached across and touched Joe’s hand. ‘It’s all right. I understand and respect you keeping the man’s confidence. But, Joe, I’m begging you to let me help you now. Lily’s – condition – is bound to be obvious very soon. What difference would a few weeks make when we may be able to sort something out?’
Joe sighed and glanced up at his wife. Peggy gave a little nod.
‘I suppose you’re right, miss. Do whatever you think best. I know you’ll have our best interests at heart. And Lily’s.’
‘You can be sure of that, Joe. Very sure.’ There was a moment’s silence before she asked gently, ‘So, do you want to know what I intend to do?’
Joe shook his head. ‘No, miss. I can’t take any more. Not just now. Just – leave me be. Leave me be.’ The last was said in a whisper as he buried his face in his hands again.
Twenty-Nine
It took all Charlotte’s courage to saddle a horse and ride to the manor. Leaving her horse with the stable lad, she entered through the kitchen door. Mrs Beddows greeted her.
‘Am I glad to see you, Miss Charlotte. D’you know when we can expect Lily back? We’re run off our feet here. She’s such a good little worker. I never realized just how much work that lass gets through until she’s not here, if you know what I mean.’
Charlotte smiled weakly. ‘It – it might be a little while yet, Mrs Beddows.’
Sons and Daughters Page 19