She was fast asleep half an hour later when a hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Startled, she looked up at a figure swathed in a loose dressing gown, holding a candle in one of the ornate candle holders normally kept in the dining room. She gasped as a blob of hot wax fell onto her hand.
'What is it?'
'Oh, Lord, it's the skinny wench. I thought there was another one.'
It was Richard's peevish voice. He swung the candle round and saw Jenny, who was just waking up. She pushed her hair out of her eyes as she sat up, demanding to know what was happening. Then, realising that her nightshift was stretched taut against her plump breasts, she pulled up the thin blanket.
Richard licked his lips and laughed. 'You'll do. You,' he added, thrusting the candle towards Molly so that more hot wax dripped onto her arm, 'get out of here.'
'What?'
'You heard. Go and sleep somewhere else. I don't want you here.'
'There isn't anyhere else,' Molly said, bewildered, and growing angry.
'There's the passage outside. Or the attic. Get out.'
He yanked at her arm and she almost fell from the narrow palliasse. Laughing, he dragged her to the door and pushed her out, slamming it in her face. Molly stumbled and fell against the door, but it was latched inside. She could hear sounds through the thin boards, and it gradually dawned on her what was going on.
Jenny was crying and begging to be let go. Richard didn't speak, but Molly heard the slap and winced as though she had been hit. Suddenly she heaved herself to her feet and ran down the passageway to where Cook slept in a small room on her own.
Molly pushed open the door, and shook Cook's shoulder. 'Cook, come and stop him! It's Richard, he's pushed me out and he's with Jenny. Oh, do wake up! She's crying!'
Cook snorted, gulped, and opened one eye. 'What d'yer mean, waking me up just fer that?'
'But – but, he'll hurt her!'
'So? She'll soon learn ter put up and shut up, if she knows what's good for 'er. The quality teks what they want, whatever we want.'
She would not interfere, and when Molly said she was going to wake Mrs Lewis, Cook sat up and grasped her wrist.
'Don't be a fool, gal! She won't believe yer. Even if she did, 'er precious Dicky bird can do what 'e likes.'
'But that's wicked!'
'It 'appens in most big houses, and yer won't be able ter stop it. Now go and get some sleep and let me 'ave some too.'
I don't have anywhere to sleep, Molly thought, as she crept back along the passage. She could hear Jenny crying, and Richard was grunting, like the pig he was. Molly curled up in a corner outside the doorway, and waited, wondering if Richard's father would believe her if she went to him. Her own threat to tell Mr Lewis of the episode with the hip bath seemed to have prevented Richard from complaining about her, but would his father believe them about this? Probably not. To her surprise it was daylight when she woke. The door of her bedroom was open, and Jenny was sobbing, curled up on the bed. Richard had gone. Molly saw the bruises on her arms and shuddered. They were much worse than the ones Johnny Cound had given her.
'Jenny, oh you poor thing! Did the brute hurt you?'
'I dain't get these bruises wi'out bein' 'urt,' Jenny almost snapped.
'What can we do? Shall we tell his father?'
Jenny sniffed. 'It won't do no good, Molly. There's nothin' we can do. I'll have ter put up wi' it. I've nowhere else ter go.'
Molly nodded slowly. Jenny was an orphan, her only relative an elderly uncle who lived near Clun. If she just left she'd not be able to get another job.
'Does it happen everywhere?' she asked. 'Cook said it did.'
'Cook?'
'I tried to get her to stop it. but she wouldn't. She said Mrs Lewis wouldn't believe me. But if we show her them bruises she'd have to! I'll come with you.'
'She won't want ter believe it of 'er precious son! You should 'ear how she talks about him when they have guests. He can't go wrong in her eyes.'
'Well, if he comes again, the two of us could fight him off. We can put a bolt on the door.'
'He'd break it down. It's no good, Molly, I'll be 'urt less if I just gives in next time.'
Molly couldn't persuade her, and all she could do was try to keep out of Richard's way herself when she had to take up his hot water. Luckily he was usually asleep in the mornings, not getting up until noon, and he never seemed to come home until long after midnight. About once a week he would come to their room and force himself on Jenny, who seemed resigned to enduring it. Molly learned to make a soft nest of blankets for herself in the sewing room, where she retreated on these occasions. Men, she decided, were brutes. Yet her father and brothers would never dream of behaving in such a way.
*
'I still say he didn't do it!' John Maebury thumped the table with his fist, glaring at John Cound, who glared back at him.
'And what do you know about it? The coat and shoes were found in his lodgings. That's proof,' Cound said, and nodded round at the rest of the men in the Sun.
'He said someone with a grudge put them there,' William Gough said. 'And in any case it's barbaric to transport him.'
'It's the law. Better than being 'anged, aint it? And he won't be transported. Since they Americans started fighting us, they've nowhere to send 'em.'
'They sent some to Gambia last year.'
'Where the 'ell's that?'
Gough shrugged. 'I don't know. Africa, I think. But the paper said the prisons are full, so some are being kept on hulks on the River Thames.'
Maebury turned away to refill his tankard. 'You spend too much time reading the newspapers. What's that matter to us? The River Thames is up London way.'
'It'll matter if some of them escape, and the goal fever spreads. You may think we're far enough away to be safe, but it only needs one vagrant sleeping rough in one of our barns, and the fever could be here.'
The others dismissed his concerns, and he fell silent, listening idly as they discussed village affairs. He paid more attention when Cound began to complain about Dinah Green. William liked the Greens.
'Too big for her pretty little shoes since she wed the schoolmaster,' he said. 'Had the infernal cheek to complain to me about young Johnny, and tell me to give him a thrashing!'
'What's he been up to now?' Gough asked. He'd caught young Johnny in mischief more than once, teasing the bull, stealing eggs from his hens, and watering the milk in the churns left outside the dairy.
'She says he beat young Molly Jones with a stick on her bare behind. In the churchyard. He says he was nowhere near the church. Have to believe yer own lads, don't yer? I think young Molly's out to make trouble for him. She was always showing off in school, just because she's older than him and John Green favoured her.'
This was a constant complaint. Cound never wanted to hear anything bad about any of his children, but especially not of his eldest son.
'She's had a bad time,' Gough said, and rose to go. He'd rather believe Dinah Green than young Johnny, but he didn't want to quarrel with Cound.
*
On her next day off Molly went to visit Dinah Green. She needed to confide in someone, but she didn't want to upset her mother by telling her how the wonderful job was turning into a nightmare. Dinah was alone when Molly arrived at Church Cottage. She listened, tight-lipped, to Molly's account of what was happening.
'Has he ever touched you?' she demanded.
Molly shook her head. 'He says I'm too skinny.'
Dinah laughed bitterly. 'Be thankful, Molly.'
'But he keeps trying to make me help him bath, even after the first time,' Molly said, and explained, giggling. 'I send George up, say I can't carry up all the water, and make him wait until I can get out of the room with him. George knows what he's up to, says he's been like it ever since he was fourteen. But no one dares tell his parents. They wouldn't believe it anyway.'
'But he isn't at home much, is he?'
'Thanks be!'
Dinah bit her
lip. 'You're still so young. Why don't you come home? Your family can manage, surely, and you'll find work here.'
There was nothing Molly wanted more than to come back home, but she knew how disappointed her mother would be after all her hopes. And if she walked out of this job without a character she wouldn't get another anywhere in Ludlow or the surrounding area.
'I'll stay. He doesn't want me while poor Jenny's there for him.'
'If he even tries, you're to come home straight away. Your Dad'd beat him to a pulp.'
Molly was well aware she could not risk that. If the Lewises complained her father would probably lose his job with Maebury, at the very least, and their home. The family would have to move. Then John and Edward, her younger brothers, might not be able to carry on with their schooling. She knew it was a strain to find even a couple of pennies a week for them.
'It might be too late by then, if he forces me,' she said. 'How can I stop him?'
'We all have to look out for ourselves in this world, Molly. Best thing is if you keep some heavy thing handy, ready to hit him hard. Men with sore heads aren't so likely to want a fight. Nor are men with sore marriage tackle,' she added, chuckling. 'Look, lass, hit the chap where it hurts most. Or use your knee. That'll take his mind off you. Or poke your fingers in his eyes. That'll stop him, and give you time to get away. If anything happens, come straight home, and forget the job. Your parents will understand, and you'll soon get another.'
Molly doubted she'd be able to find another job. She'd be without a character, and in the way all the news seemed to be known all over the town, people with jobs for maids would be unwilling to employ her.
*
She was deep in thought as she walked slowly back to Ludlow, for it was a very hot day and even now, in the early evening, the sun was fierce. In Stanton Lacy she sat down beside the river, took off her shoes, pulled up her petticoats and dipped her feet into the cool water.
'Molly?'
Swiftly she turned. She hadn't heard or seen anyone. 'Johnny Cound? What do you want?'
He came and sat down beside her. 'I wanted ter say I was sorry, you know, fer teasin' yer.'
'And hitting me!'
He blushed. 'Yes, I know. But that were our Billy. Look Molly, I like yer, an' I'm sorry. Can't us be friends?'
Molly snorted with contempt. 'I don't want to be friends with the likes of you. Go away and leave me alone.'
His eyes narrowed. 'No pesky gal refuses me,' he said, and grabbed her by the shoulders. 'Kiss and be friends?' he asked, beginning to laugh.
Infuriated, Molly shoved as hard as she could. Johnny staggered backwards and missed his footing, one foot waving helplessly over the sloping bank. He lost his balance and slid, cursing, through the mud and into the river. As he spluttered, struggling to get to his feet, she laughed, picked up her shoes and stockings, and ran.
When she was safely in the churchyard, hidden from view of the road, she stopped to put them on, and then went on her way, grinning at the look of astonishment on his face. Johnny Cound, wanting to kiss her? They'd never had much to do with one another. He'd always been with other boys, scorning the girls. A pity she'd not been in a position to try out Dinah's ideas, but it was somehow more satisfying to give him a ducking and make him look foolish. She chuckled as she thought of him trying to explain his wet clothes to his mother. Mrs Cound was a stern woman, not likely to believe he'd missed his footing on some bridge or stepping stone. It served him right, and if he felt foolish enough perhaps he'd not bother her again.
*
Elizabeth smiled to herself. The hay was all cut, they'd been asked to supper by the Pearces that night, and when they got home she would whisper her news to William. He'd be delighted. Little Will would be three in November, and it was time he had a brother or sister. She was surprised it hadn't happened before, especially after all the times she and William made love. They'd both like a girl this time.
William reacted as she'd expected. He picked her up and swung her round, kissing her in delight. Then he set her down gently.
'Sweetheart, I shouldn't be doing this. Will it harm the baby?'
She laughed. 'No, of course it won't! I've only been sure myself for a couple of days, so the baby must be tiny!'
He made her sit down in the parlour, and fetched two glasses of her own cowslip wine.
'We must celebrate. To you and the babe!'
'And to you. It needs both of us,' Elizabeth chuckled.
'But mine's the easy part. You have to do all the hard work. When little Will was born I didn't think I could ever go through that again, I was so worried for you. It seemed to take so long, and your mother wouldn't let me near you.'
'Quite right, it's woman's work. And it wasn't so bad. Seeing Will's little face, and his mop of red hair, made it all worth while. And they say second babies come faster and easier.'
'When's it due?'
'I think late February or early March. I do hope it's a girl! If it is, what shall we call her?'
'I've always liked Ann.'
'After your sister?'
'Yes, but we had Lancet with William for my grandparents, so you should choose this time.'
'I like Ann too. And we don't want another Elizabeth.'
'Now go to bed. You need to rest, and I'm going to look after you.'
*
Richard returned to the university, and to Jenny's relief he spent the Christmas vacation with friends. At Easter he came home again and Jenny had to suffer him once more. Molly could offer no help. Then in October Jenny was dismissed.
Molly was in the main bedroom, cleaning, with the door and window open to get a breeze, when she heard Mrs Lewis in the small adjoining room she called her boudoir. She was speaking to Cook.
'The slut will have to go. I'll not have girls like that under my roof. She had the infernal cheek to blame my Richard! As if he'd even look at such a drab. Could it have been George? If so, he'll be sent packing as well.'
'It weren't George,' Cook said. 'He's got a woman somewhere down by the river.'
'Well, if she won't confess we can't get her decently wed. She'll have to put up with the shame. I won't have her here. My own girls are growing, and they do not want such an example before them.'
'No, Ma'am. Have you another girl in mind to take her place?'
'Oh yes, I waited until I found someone before I dismissed her.'
Molly was still seething with annoyance when she was summoned to the drawing room.
'Well, Molly, I have been pleased with your work since you have been with me. Jenny is leaving, and I want to offer you her place. It will mean an extra five shillings a year, and you can teach Lizzie, who will be taking your place, her job.'
She realised there was nothing she could do. She couldn't help Jenny, who would have to beg her elderly uncle to take her in, and accept her bastard when it came. Poor Jenny, she'd be dependent on parish relief now, for Richard would disclaim any responsibility even if his mother questioned him, and from what she'd overheard that seemed most unlikely. Jenny would have no help from him.
Would Richard now expect her to take Jenny's place in bed? Molly gritted her teeth. She'd leave rather than endure that, go home, find work helping the local farmers. But he might force her. He was strong, much stronger than she was despite his flabbiness. Remembering Dinah's advice, after some thought Molly went to explore the attic, where all manner of things had been put when they were no longer of use. She searched, and to her delight found an old poker which she recalled had been in the kitchen when she first came to the house. Cook had demanded a longer one, saying the fire burnt her with this short one, but for Molly it was perfect.
She hid it under her bed, and wedged the door with an old chair she'd also brought from the attic. That would give her warning, enough time to arm herself if Richard thought of using her to replace Jenny.
The night was undisturbed, and the following day Lizzie appeared. Younger than Molly by several months, she was a plump blonde,
thankful to get away from her home on Brown Clee, and looking forward to the more exciting life in the town.
'There be the market, and lots o' folk to watch,' she said when they were in bed. 'The men at 'ome do all be miners or farm workers. I want ter live in Ludlow, marry a tradesman, and 'ave me own good house.'
Molly was amused. 'How old are you?' she asked. 'Fourteen? Surely you don't want ter be tied to a man yet? Having a baby every year or so.'
Lizzie pouted. 'I'm turned fifteen, an' I don't want ter spend the rest of me life cleaning other people's houses. What's Mrs Lewis like?'
'Fair enough if you don't give trouble.'
'And Master Richard?' She giggled. 'He said it were a shame ter cover up me 'air with a cap, when I took 'is water up.'
'You want to watch him,' Molly warned. 'He got Jenny, who was here before you, into trouble and she was turned off without a character.'
Lizzie shivered. 'Like that, is 'e? Well, if 'e wants me, 'e'll 'ave ter pay!'
She refused to listen to Molly's warnings, and Molly was not surprised when Richard appeared the following night and ordered her out of the room.
'You're still too skinny,' he sneered, 'but don't be jealous, your turn will come.'
Molly glanced at Lizzie, whose eyes were glittering with excitement. She wouldn't protest and weep as Jenny had. Molly shrugged, and remade her bed in the sewing room. She felt guilty but relieved that Richard had chosen Lizzie and not herself.
*
Molly enjoyed her new job. It was better caring for Mrs Lewis's fine china and ornaments, spending her time in the reception rooms instead of running up and down the stairs all day long. It also gave her opportunities of reading the newspapers and books when Mr Lewis, as he frequently did, left them on the desk in his small library.
She'd missed being able to read since she left home. Dinah had lent her books, mainly of poetry and some plays by a man called Shakespeare, to add to the Bible which was the only book her parents possessed. She could have borrowed them still, but Molly was afraid they might get damaged if she brought them here. The newspapers were interesting, especially as Mr Lewis had the London Public Advertiser and several journals sent to him, as well as the local Shrewsbury paper. When she knew Mr Lewis was safely away from the house, she dared to glance for a few minutes at any books left out on the table by his chair, prepared, if anyone caught her, to say she was tidying them. One book he seemed particularly fond of was an account of a sea journey some years before by a sailor called James Cook. Once an atlas had been left open on the desk, and Molly was able to find some of the names she'd read about in the book. They all seemed so very far away, on the other side of the world.
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