When her mother did not answer at once, Kitty looked up.
‘At the Manor, lass,’ Betsy Clegg said slowly. ‘You’ve been away a long time, Kitty.’ She paused, believing that she now knew the real reason for her daughter’s prolonged absence. ‘Harvest’s over, but he’s there to do a bit of threshing and waiting while Ben does his thatching work.’
Kitty stared at her mother, thankful that the other woman could not read her thoughts. For at that moment her mind was not on Jack, or his son, or even on her own uncertain future.
It had been last year’s harvest when all this had begun, when Miriam, playing the part of his Harvest Queen, had first met Jack.
How would Miriam feel, Kitty was wondering, if she looked out of the windows of the Manor House now and saw the handsome Jack Thorndyke in the stackyard beyond the wall?
Twenty-Seven
Mrs Grundy wept with disappointment.
‘After everything I’ve telled you, girl. You should’ve known better. And him! Jack Thorndyke. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I warn you time and again, but oh no, you knew it all didn’t you? And now ya’ve brought shame on ya mam and dad and to this house too. I thought it funny when the mistress and Miss Miriam returned without you. Bin hiding yasen away ’til it was over, ’ave ya? I ’spect you never even went abroad with Miss Miriam, did ya?’
Kitty shook her head. At least she didn’t need to lie about that now.
‘Huh. I thought as much. Well, that’s put paid to ya grand ideas of bein’ a lady’s maid good an’ proper, ain’t it? And after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me.’ The woman lifted the corner of her apron and dabbed at her eyes though whether her tears were for Kitty or for her own disappointment, the girl could not be sure.
‘Oh please, Mrs G.,’ Kitty moved towards her and made to put her arm about her shoulders, but the woman shrugged her off.
‘Don’t you touch me, miss. And don’t you go seeking out Master Edward, neither. He’s too young to know about you and your bad ways. Too young to be tainted with the likes of you.’
‘Tainted!’ Kitty was stung to retort. ‘Is that how you think of me now, Mrs Grundy? That I’ll defile those I touch?’
The cook did not answer at once but delved deep in the pocket of her apron, drew out her handkerchief and blew her nose loudly into it. She moved towards the range and dropped heavily into the wooden chair set to one side. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Kitty Clegg. I looked upon you like me own daughter and now look what you’ve done?’
Kitty came and squatted down in front of her, feeling the heat from the fire in the range on the side of her face. ‘But if you’d had a daughter, you’d have stuck by her, wouldn’t you? You’d have been shocked and angry, yes, I can see that, but you wouldn’t have turned her off, would you?’
Mrs Grundy sniffed noisily. ‘Well, mebbe not. But I’ll have to get used to it. Have to come to terms with it.’ Her eyes, still full of bitterness, bored into Kitty’s. ‘What’s ya mam and dad to say, then?’
Kitty sighed and stood up. ‘I think me mam would have stood by me but – but me dad’s turned me out. And – and she’s going along with it.’
‘Aye well, I can’t say I can blame ’im. He’s been through it afore and through no fault of his own. It must bring it all back to him. You might have thought of ya poor dad, Kitty, and what he’s had to bear.’
Kitty put her head on one side. ‘What are you talking about, Mrs G.? Brought what back?’
Mrs Grundy flapped her hand. ‘Oh never you mind. I’ve said too much already. I’m lettin’ me mouth run away with itself and saying things I shouldn’t, ’cos I’m that upset. Forget I ever said owt.’
Kitty said no more, but she would not forget. And in that moment she realized something else too. Through the long years that stretched ahead, never for one second must she let her ‘mouth run away with itself’.
‘Well then,’ she said, picking up the plaited rush cradle her mother had found for her, ‘I’d best go and introduce Jack Thorndyke to his son.’
Leaving the kitchen, she went out into the back yard, up the steps and walked the full length of the path through the garden. Near the door in the wall at the end she paused and looked back at the house. In the first-floor window of Master Edward’s room, she saw the shadow of a person standing, not close to the glass, but a little way back, as if not wanting to be seen and yet unable to stop himself watching. She was tempted to wave, yet did not. Mrs Grundy had left her in no doubt that her friendship with Master Edward must now be at an end, disgraced as she was. Kitty sighed heavily. The thought that she would never be allowed to sit and talk to the lonely young boy actually hurt her. She really liked Master Edward – Teddy. As she remembered the nickname he had insisted she call him when they were alone together, a wistful smile played on her mouth and tears prickled her eyelids.
Then, resolutely, she turned her back on the house and opened the garden door leading into the stackyard beyond.
‘And what have we got here then?’ Jack bent over the tiny bundle wrapped in a shawl against the autumn wind and touched the baby’s cheek with his rough fingertip. ‘Yours, is it, Kitty Clegg?’
Neatly avoiding answering his question directly, she said softly, ‘He’s your son, Jack Thorndyke.’
Jack straightened up and looked down into her face. ‘Oh aye?’ he said guardedly. There was a pause before he added harshly, ‘Think I ain’t had that one thrown at me afore now, young Kitty?’
The girl gasped and her eyes widened. ‘But he is, Jack. He is your son. Why, he even looks like you. See . . .’ She pulled open the shawl and the baby screwed up his tiny features, opened his mouth and bawled, resentful at his cosy nest in the cradle being disturbed. ‘See his black hair and his nose. He’s got your nose, Jack. You can’t deny that. You’ve got to believe me. He is yours.’
The huge shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘I aren’t saying he isn’t. But if you think you’re going to tether me to you ’cos of a bairn, you’ve got another think coming.’
‘But we could be a family, Jack. I’d look after you. You and the baby. I’ll do anything you want, if you’ll only—’
‘I aren’t the marrying kind, Kitty. I’ve told you that afore.’
‘But don’t you want to give your son a name? Surely you don’t want him to grow up a – a . . .’ She hesitated and Jack threw back his head in a loud guffaw as she shrank from saying the word.
‘ . . . a bastard. Can’t bring yourself to say it, eh Kitty?’ He bent his dark head towards her, thrusting his face close to hers. ‘Well, you ain’t catching me with that one ’cos you’re not the first to try it and,’ he added cruelly, ‘you probably won’t be the last.’
‘Jack . . .’ Kitty almost sobbed in her frustration and was on the point of dropping to her knees, of begging him, but some spark of pride deep within her flared and shone brightly. Instead she raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.
‘Very well, Jack Thorndyke, if that’s all you have to say, I’ll be on me way. We’ll manage on our own. Me and your son. Though where we’re to sleep tonight, I don’t know, ’cos me own dad’s turned me out.’
‘Now, now, young Kitty, hang on a minute. Don’t go getting all uppity on me. I haven’t said I won’t stand by you, only that I won’t marry you. I won’t marry anyone, Kitty. I’ve always told you that. You can’t deny it.’
Kitty’s lower lip threatened to tremble. No, she couldn’t deny it. That was exactly what he had always said. But carried away by her own overwhelming passion for him, she had not believed him. Like countless young girls blinded by love, she had thought she could change him.
In that moment, as she stared into Jack’s undeniably handsome face, Kitty Clegg grew up. He would not change – not for her, not for anyone. She could either take what he offered – whatever that was – or turn her back on him, walk away and make her life without him.
‘Jack . . .’ she tried, just once more. She stepped forward and held o
ut the child towards him. ‘Would you like to hold your son – just for a moment?’
He took the little bundle into his great arms and bent his head, looking down into the tiny features nestling in the shawl. The baby screwed up his face, wriggling and stretching.
‘Strong, ain’t he, for such a little chap?’
‘Yes, yes, he is,’ Kitty said eagerly, desperate to hear a change of heart, a slight weakness in his resolve. ‘He’s a fine, healthy boy. A son to be proud of, Jack.’
With a sudden movement he thrust the bundle back into her arms and stepped away. ‘Now then, none of your woman’s wheedling, Kitty Clegg. I’ve work to do.’ He turned and strode away from her.
Though she called again, ‘Jack. Jack . . .’ he did not look back.
Twenty-Eight
‘I’ve got to see the mistress.’
Mrs Grundy straightened up from where she had been bending over the range and turned to face Kitty, standing once more in the kitchen of the Manor House. Setting the cradle on the table, Kitty moved towards the door leading to the upper part of the house.
‘By heck, girl, you’ve got a cheek and no mistake.’ The cook’s face was bright red, though whether from bending over the heat, or from anger and embarrassment caused by her former kitchen maid, even she could not have said. ‘And why do you think the mistress will want to concern herself with the likes of you?’ She paused and added, pointedly, ‘Now?’
Kitty thrust her chin out determinedly. ‘She will. That’s all.’
‘Well, she ain’t here. She’s gone to visit Sir Ralph.’ Mrs Grundy nodded her head knowingly and the smirk on her mouth held a look of triumph. ‘There’ll be a wedding afore long, if I’m not much mistaken. At least Miss Miriam does things properly. But then, she’s a lady.’
Kitty stared at the cook and realized in that moment the enormity of her rash decision to take Miriam’s child as her own. She, Kitty Clegg, was now the outcast, while Miriam sailed on blithely deceiving everyone.
Through clenched teeth, Kitty said, ‘Then I’ll see Miss Miriam.’
‘Oh no, you won’t . . .’ Mrs Grundy began, but before the stout cook could make a move towards her, Kitty had whirled about and was through the door and down the three steps into the hall. There she hesitated, poised on her toes, listening. She had no wish to run into the master, and yet at this moment she would face even him. This family had a duty to help her, she told herself.
Then she was running up the twisting stairs towards Miss Miriam’s bedroom. She rapped on the door and, without waiting for a reply, flung it open and marched into the room.
Miriam was sitting at the dressing table, brushing her hair and still in her nightgown although the morning was half over.
‘What on earth . . .?’ she began, obviously startled by Kitty’s sudden appearance. But her surprise was soon replaced by anger. ‘What are you doing here? How dare you burst into my room like this?’ The girl turned from the mirror and stood up. ‘You have no right even to be in this house. Get out.’
Kitty stood her ground. ‘I wanted to see your mother, but she’s not here.’
‘No,’ the girl smiled and smoothed her long hair. ‘No. She’s gone to see my future father-in-law to discuss the terms of the marriage settlement.’ The smile became smug. ‘After Christmas, we shall go to London. I’m to have a Season next year, be presented at court and then my engagement to Guy Harding will be announced.’ Miriam tilted her head to one side and her eyes glittered with malice as she said, ‘You could have been a part of all that, Kitty, as my personal maid. You could have come to London with me. Oh I’m going to have such a wonderful time and you could have been there too, if . . .’ she paused with deliberate intention, ‘if you hadn’t been so foolish as to get yourself pregnant by Jack Thorndyke.’
Kitty gasped and knew she turned pale. She felt suddenly dizzy and swayed slightly. So that was it. Miriam intended to play the part to the hilt, even pretending that Kitty had really given birth to Jack Thorndyke’s son. She was going to deny her own involvement completely.
‘But I need your help.’
‘Help? From me? Why should I help a maid who has brought shame on herself and all of us?’
Kitty, recovering swiftly from the shock, said, ‘Your mother would help me, if she were here. She promised.’
Miriam moved closer, thrusting her face close to Kitty’s. ‘And you made certain promises too. Promises you’re breaking already. You shouldn’t even be here.’
‘Jack won’t marry me,’ Kitty blurted out.
Miriam’s smirk broadened. ‘I never thought for one moment that he would,’ she drawled. ‘You’re a fool, Kitty Clegg, if you harboured such hopes.’ She turned away and sat at the dressing table once more, picked up the hairbrush and began to brush her hair with long, languid strokes.
‘Of course,’ she drawled, her glance catching and holding Kitty’s gaze in the mirror, ‘I don’t know the man concerned, but I can imagine that his sort cannot be relied upon.’
Kitty could not believe what she was hearing. Miriam was playing her part so well that it seemed she believed she had never lain with Jack Thorndyke, had not borne his child. Now, she was denying even knowing him.
Kitty’s mouth tightened. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it?’ She added grimly, ‘Well, so be it then. I’ll not look to you or your family for any help. I’ll grant you one thing though, Miss Miriam. You’re a good actress. You should go on the stage.’
Kitty spun around and pulled open the door.
‘Oh Kitty,’ Miriam said and the girl paused momentarily in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder.
‘What?’ she said curtly, without any of the deference she had once shown her young mistress.
‘If you’ve nowhere to go,’ Miriam drawled, ‘I believe there’s a place called the workhouse that takes in the homeless of the parish, including fallen women.’
Kitty stared at the beautiful face in the mirror and wondered how such loveliness could be so spiteful, almost to the point of wickedness.
‘I wish you joy, Miss Miriam. I just hope Mr Guy knows what he’s taking on.’
As she began to turn away, she saw Miriam swivel on the stool, saw her raise her arm and heard her screech of rage. Before she could duck, the hairbrush came flying through the air to hit Kitty smartly on the forehead. The pain jolted her and she reached up to touch her head, expecting to feel the stickiness of blood, but instead she found the tenderness of a bruise that would swell very quickly. Slowly she reached down and picked up the brush and then, taking deliberate aim, she flung it towards the startled Miriam. Her aim was poor and the brush flew past Miriam’s head and hit the mirror behind it, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces and making such a noise that surely the whole household must hear.
‘Temper, temper, Kitty,’ Miriam mocked. ‘Now you’ve brought seven years’ bad luck on yourself.’
‘My bad luck started the day I got mesen tangled up with you, miss.’
Miriam shook her head. ‘Oh no, Kitty Clegg, your bad luck began when you got tangled up with Jack Thorndyke. He’s your bad luck.’ Her emphasis on the word ‘your’ did not go unnoticed by Kitty. Miriam was cleverly passing the whole burden of guilt – her own guilt – on to Kitty, and she, foolish girl that she was and rendered helpless by her love for Jack and now the baby too, was taking it on to her own shoulders.
There was nothing left to say between them, nothing that could be said, so Kitty turned away, sick at heart. Quietly, in the silence that followed the tumult, she closed the door with the feeling of finality lying heavy in her breast.
She was moving away towards the stairs, when she heard her name called softly. She half-turned to see Master Edward’s face peering round his bedroom door. He beckoned her and when she hesitated, he hissed, ‘Kitty, come here. Just a moment.’
Glancing back towards Miriam’s door, Kitty bit her lip but then, thinking that she had little else to lose now, moved towards him and
slipped into the room. Softly Edward closed the door and they stood staring at each other.
Despite her own problems, Kitty smiled at him. ‘Why, Master Edward, I do believe you’ve grown. You’re taller than me now.’ And, as she took in the fact that he was fully dressed, added, ‘And you’re up and about. I do hope that means you’re better.’
The boy – a young man now for in three months’ time, in January, he would reach his sixteenth birthday – smiled at her. She noticed that he had put on a little weight, that his fair hair shone with health and his eyes sparkled with vitality. Gone, too, was the pallid complexion of an invalid. ‘I’m much better than I used to be, Kitty,’ he was saying. ‘I still get asthma attacks, but they’re not so severe. I’m even going away to boarding school now. I started at the beginning of September and I’m going back tomorrow. I’ve just been home for the weekend.’
‘Really? And do you like it?’
‘It’s great. Forget all those horror stories you hear about boarding school. I’ve made friends with several other chaps, two especially . . .’ He stopped suddenly as his gaze roamed over her face and he registered the bruise now swelling on her forehead.
‘Oh Kitty, did my sister do that? I heard the commotion.’
Kitty put her fingers up to touch the lump and winced. ‘Yes, I didn’t duck quick enough.’
‘Come, let me bathe it for you.’ He touched her arm and, although she protested, Edward drew her across the room towards the washstand and made her stand meekly while he wetted the corner of a towel with cold water and held it on the bruise.
With his face solemn now and so close to hers, he said, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your trouble, Kitty. If there’s anything I can do . . .’
Anger welled within her and Kitty felt a sharp retort spring to her lips. She was about to say, Oh yes, Master Edward, your family are great at making offers of help and fine promises, but when it comes to carrying them out then it’s quite another story, but she held her tongue. This boy, probably more than any other member of the Franklin family, even Mrs Franklin, would, she knew, always keep his word. So close to him, she looked into his eyes and read there his concern for her and his sadness. And there was something else too. Was it disappointment? Disappointment that she had so disgraced herself by bearing an illegitimate child.
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