by Diane Allen
‘You are talking daft, woman. I never thought anything about her. I married you, didn’t I?’ Jethro looked blackly at his son and wife as they stood together, ready to take him on. ‘Do what you bloody like. You always have hidden behind your mother’s skirts, and if Danny bloody Atkinson has no more sense than to let you see his lass, then I’ll have to be bloody quiet. It’ll all end in nowt anyway, but don’t think you can come trailing home again, because I’ll not make you welcome.’ Jethro turned and walked towards the door. ‘Behave your bloody self and don’t bring us any shame.’ He grabbed the door handle and slammed the door behind him, leaving both Mazy and Ethan looking at one another.
‘Don’t fret, he’ll come round. You know what he’s like.’ Mazy reached for the teacups and kettle.
‘I thought he’d bray me again.’ Ethan breathed in deeply.
‘Nay, he won’t do that, not if Mr Atkinson says that he is alright with you courting Rosie. Now, we never mention what I said to your father – it’s not to be talked about ever again, and I only said it because I knew if he’d have been in your shoes now, he’d have done the same. You enjoy your time with Miss Rosie and leave your father to me.’ Mazy poured the tea and smiled at her beloved son.
Ethan looked at his mother, trying to understand his father’s secret love for his employer, and the love that his mother must feel for Jethro. She’d been second best all her married life, and had only just now let his father know that she was aware of this. That was no marriage; he and Rosie would be more secure than that – of that he was going to make sure.
‘We could make this look lovely. Just look at the garden, Ethan, we could fill it with vegetables. And it looks like there are two bedrooms. Room enough for a family, if we are ever so lucky again.’ Rosie blushed and felt a pang of sadness for the trauma and worry that she had been through, while thinking of the future and hoping for better times ahead with Ethan by her side.
Ethan looked around him at the overgrown garden and the ivy-clad walls of the unoccupied cottage. ‘Aye, I reckon we could make something of it. But I daren’t dream too much about it. Your grandfather might have plans for it and he may not even agree to us living here.’ He looked at the excitement on Rosie’s face as she peered through the peeling, paint-cracked windows into the kitchen and small living room.
‘Grandpapa would only be too happy to let us live here – it’s always been empty. He used to say that he would live in it sometime, but now he’s happy to be back with us up at Crummock.’ Rosie stood back next to Ethan and put her arm through his. ‘I’ll wait a bit longer and then I’ll ask him, once we have proved that we do love one another and that we are serious.’ She squeezed Ethan’s arm tightly and smiled. ‘Our own little house – just us two, where no one can tell us what to do. Won’t that be fine?’
‘It will, Rosie. In fact I could make a start on the garden in my spare time. I can clear the weeds over this winter, cut back these brambles and give the garden gate a lick of paint. Then everyone will know we are serious about each other. It’ll not do the cottage any harm anyway, as it looks so uncared for.’ Ethan looked around him. He would give the garden his time, as and when he could. ‘I hope that when the time comes your grandfather will agree, because it is, as you say, the perfect home for us. A home that we will cherish between us. We’ll do this, Rosie. Despite whatever obstacles they put in our way, we will show them.’
Ethan held Rosie tightly and looked around him. It was a lot of responsibility, but Rosie was worth it. That spring he had been a young lad without any cares. Now he had grown into a man, and he aimed always to be there for his Rosie.
24
‘Jane, you might as well make yourself useful today, while Harriet and I interview the new seamstress. You can go into Settle and give Lambert’s my instructions for the invitations that I need printing for our Christmas Ball. There’s no need for you to come into work, Aunt Harriet won’t have time for you and nor will I.’ Isabelle looked across at her daughter as she spread marmalade on her second slice of toast. ‘Have you any need of Jane today, James?’
James was engrossed in his morning newspaper and didn’t realize that he was being talked to, as he read about the latest divisions between the Triple Entente of Britain, Russia and France and the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria–Hungary and Italy. The division between the two military camps was beginning to make him more aware and anxious that all was not well in the world. Especially with the Irish Home Rule movement insisting on Irish self-government. The world was not a safe place.
‘James, are you listening or am I talking to a brick wall, as usual?’ Isabelle put her knife down sharply.
‘Sorry, my dear, I was just reading about the worries of the world. It will only take a small spark to throw the world into chaos.’ He sighed and folded his newspaper. ‘Now, what did you ask?’
‘Do you need Jane today or can she have the day at home?’ Isabelle looked disdainfully at her husband. All he did was worry about world affairs, and consequently she had lost count of the times he had condemned her compliments about Luke excelling in the cadets at school, as he feared that war would soon be rearing its ugly head.
‘No, no, I don’t think so. I’ve quite an easy day today. But she can join me in the Leeds branch tomorrow, and then she can keep an eye on me. I’m sure you’ll be happier if she does.’ James looked sharply at Isabelle, knowing full well that she still didn’t trust him.
‘You never told me that you were interviewing today. Could I not take the interviews with you, instead of Aunt Harriet – surely it would be more fitting?’
Jane looked at her mother. She still wasn’t being included fully in the running of Atkinson’s and resented the fact.
‘You will get your chance in time, Jane, but at this moment leave it to Harriet and me. She has the experience, and it is her position they will be filling. She does tell me, however, that you are showing promise in your sewing and cutting skills. She was quite impressed when I spoke to her about you.’ Isabelle sipped at her tea. ‘Now, are you willing to walk into Settle and take my instructions to the printer’s? It would be a good help, and the weather is quite pleasant for the first day in November.’
‘I suppose I could. I’m obviously not needed in the store.’ Jane looked across at her father. ‘Am I really to come with you to Leeds tomorrow? Will I have time to look around the arcades and perhaps do some shopping?’
‘If your mother agrees, I don’t see why not. You haven’t been for a while, and it won’t hurt the staff there to meet you and realize that you are the future face of Atkinson’s.’ James smiled at the excitement his daughter was showing. ‘And I suppose you will be wanting some spending money – so I’d say “yes” to delivering your mother’s invitation instructions. Although I can’t say I’m looking forward to a ball. Opening our house to half the dale does not fill me with pleasure.’
‘I don’t know what to do regarding the invitation to Harriet and Danny and their family. Harriet told me the other day that Rosie is walking out with Ethan – Mazy and Jethro’s son. Now I don’t want to sound a snob, but I do hope they don’t bring him along as part of their family. Imagine, the stable boy coming as a guest into our home on such a grand occasion. What would people say?’ Isabelle breathed in deeply and shook her head in disbelief.
‘Rosie is walking out with Ethan?’ Jane squealed. ‘Has she no pride? I wouldn’t be seen dead walking out with him, he’s so common.’
‘Keep your voice down, Jane, Mazy will be able to hear you.’ Isabelle quietened her daughter quickly.
‘He’s not a bad lad. I’d have thought Rosie might have set her sights higher. It will suit your stepfather, Isabelle. I can’t see your problem. Just ask them all as a family and then, if Ethan comes with them, he does; and if not, you have no problem.’ James smiled to himself. Jane was so much like her mother.
‘I just hope he doesn’t. It could be quite embarrassing. Now, come with me, Jane, and I’ll give you the instr
uctions for the printer, before your father and I catch the train into work. Make sure you ask to have them printed for the middle of the month. I want us to be the first in the district to announce our intentions. I want to get one ahead of the Fosters at Anley Hall. Mary Foster is always bragging about how grand her Christmas Ball is, so let’s better her this year.’ Isabelle got up from the table, leaving James thinking how mother and daughter both had attitude; if they thought themselves far better than the rest of society, they were heading for a fall.
‘My mother would like two hundred invitations to be delivered no later than the fifteenth of this month to us at Windfell.’ Jane stood next to the counter, looking at the printer with his blue ink-stained hands.
‘Two hundred, you say, with envelopes?’ The printer looked up over his glasses at Jane and waited for a reply.
‘Yes, and my mother asked if you could place a design around the invitation, something tasteful, like bells or holly?’ Jane looked around the small printing-press room, whose walls were covered with posters and wooden printing blocks, with all different typefaces and designs upon them.
‘Perhaps you would like to have a look at some ideas, while I see what this young man behind you is in need of? I’m sure he won’t take long to serve.’ The printer looked over Jane’s shoulder at the young blond-haired man who stood waiting his turn, then reached for some Christmas prints for the decoration on the ball invitations.
‘Yes, I suppose I could.’ Jane turned to look at the customer behind her as she moved to one side to choose the decoration. She stopped for a second as she glanced up at the young man. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite think who. She smiled at him as he stepped up to the counter while she made her way to the side of the office.
She listened in to the conversation between him and the printer as she looked slowly through the selection.
‘So that’s fifty funeral cards to be picked up by yourself tomorrow. We can deliver them for you, but that will of course be extra,’ the printer said quietly.
‘Nay, I’ll deliver them myself. My grandfather would have liked that and it’s only right that I do so,’ the young man said.
‘Right you are, sir, they will be ready for you by midday tomorrow. May I give you my condolences from all at Lambert’s? We will be thinking of you and your loss.’ The printer passed the details over to his young apprentice and watched as his customer left the shop.
‘I think we will have this one, Mr Lambert, it looks very seasonal and I think it will be tasteful enough for Mama.’ Jane pointed at a print of a holly swag with a silver bell in the centre. ‘It’s very eye-catching and should look good on our invitations.’
‘That’s a good choice, Miss Fox, it is very popular.’ Mr Lambert folded the corner of the print down to remind him of her choice and put it to one side. ‘Anything else, Miss?’
‘Erm, no. Well, yes, there is! Can I ask who the young man is that you’ve just served? I thought I recognized him, but his name escapes me.’ Jane peered at the old man while he answered her.
‘That’ll be old Bill Brown’s grandson, Daniel. He’s just lost his grandfather and was ordering his funeral cards. Your grandfather will know them – they farm over at Ragged Hall. No doubt he’ll be delivering an invitation to your grandfather, as all the farmers in the district knew and respected the old gent.’
‘Oh, I didn’t think I knew him. I just thought his face looked familiar. I must be thinking of someone else. However, you are correct in thinking that my grandfather will have dealt with his grandfather, if they farm.’ Jane picked up her posy bag and looked at the printer.
‘Aye, he might not know Daniel Bland, for he’s just come to live with the old man, from what I hear. He’s been keeping him company in his hour of need. It’s a sad day for him.’ Mr Lambert shook his head as he turned away from Jane.
‘Indeed, Mr Lambert. I should have given my condolences to him as well. I do hope he calls in at Windfell so that I may do so.’ She looked sympathetically at the printer. ‘Good day, Mr Lambert.’
‘Aye, good day, lass. I’ll see to your invitations for you.’ The printer watched as Jane made her way out of the shop.
She walked up through busy Duke Street, her head held high as she acknowledged fellow shoppers and neighbours. But her mind was on the good-looking man who had stood behind her at the printer’s. What a pity he would probably be taking the funeral card to Crummock and not to Windfell, for she would have liked to have seen more of him and introduce herself. He had seemed strangely familiar, but at the same time she had never seen him before in her life. She smiled to herself as she thought of the mop of blond hair and the blue eyes; he was a good-looking man, that was for sure.
‘So, you enjoyed your day with your father?’ Isabelle looked at her daughter as Jane flicked through the pages of The Lady, seemingly uninterested in the contents, just as she was in the Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal that had been discarded to one side, as she decided that she couldn’t be bothered to read either magazine on this quiet Sunday morning.
‘Yes, it is so different from here. Leeds is so full of life, and the shops . . . well, our little shopkeepers in Settle just can’t be compared to the bustling arcades in Leeds. The ladies are more fashionable and the gentleman are that well groomed, I swear even I must have stood out like a country bumpkin.’ Jane sighed.
‘I’m sure you didn’t. As you know, you and I keep well abreast of fashion. It’s just that the ladies who attend our Leeds shop are wealthy, as with most of the shops in the arcade. Step a few streets back and you would see another side of Leeds – the poverty and the slums that townspeople still live in. So you must think yourself fortunate, Jane. You have been born into a privileged lifestyle. Did your father have a good day?’ Isabelle wanted to quiz her daughter. It had been James’s first day back in Leeds since the fateful crash, and she had done nothing but wonder how the Leeds store had reacted to his return.
‘Yes, he was busy all day. He had a queue of people wanting their picture taken, so we were both kept on our toes. We barely had time for lunch, let alone anything else. I was hoping I would have had time to browse in a few shops, but all I managed to get was this magazine at the station. And this is full of what the perfect wife and mother should be, and it doesn’t keep my interest.’ Jane flung The Lady to one side. ‘Did you find a replacement for Aunt Harriet – one you both agreed on – without my input?’
‘Yes, we did, thank you. She’s called Margery Sutcliffe and lives in Skipton, so she’s ideal. Her seamstress skills are excellent, and she comes highly recommended by her previous employer. I think you and she will get on well. She’s a bit plain in looks, but perhaps that is not a bad thing. She dresses well, and that’s more important.’ Isabelle pulled on her gloves and looked at her daughter, who didn’t look happy, knowing that she had not been trusted to interview the new seamstress. ‘Come to church with me and your father. You know you should attend, no matter how much you despise going. The walk there will do you good, and will stop you from brooding.’
‘I’m not brooding. I just dislike Sundays. Perhaps Luke will come and brighten up the day, although all he thinks about is how to shoot his gun and how smart he looks in that uniform of his. Stupid idiot!’ Jane sighed again. ‘But church is one step worse, so I’ll find something to do. I’ll write a letter or two in the morning room and tell my friends about the ball at Christmas, then they’ve time to plan their dresses.’
‘Suit yourself, my lady. But going to church shows your standing in the local community, and it doesn’t hurt to be seen there. We will be back for lunch, so we won’t be long.’ Isabelle walked over to the doorway and left her daughter in the morning room, reaching for pen and paper from the desk next to the window. Jane was in a mood and was best left alone.
Jane watched her mother and father walk down the drive and past the beech trees that were blowing in the northerly wind. Her mother was holding onto her hat, despite the hat pin keeping it in p
lace, and Jane shook her head, wondering why they hadn’t taken the trap instead of walking the half-mile to Langcliffe.
She reached for her pen and looked at the blank pages of paper in front of her. She didn’t feel like writing, but as usual on a Sunday that was all there was to do – that and a gentle walk, as her mother had reminded her. She breathed in deeply, sat back in her chair and looked outside: a walk or letter writing? Both were equally boring, she thought, as she picked up the pen again and dipped it in the inkpot. She stopped when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves as they disturbed the pebbles on the drive outside the window. She looked out, but could see nobody, so presumed it was Jethro or someone visiting him, or one of the staff, as she couldn’t hear the doorbell being rung and answered. She picked up her pen once again and started to write.
She stopped quickly, almost knocking her inkpot over, as there was a knock on the morning-room door.
‘Enter,’ Jane shouted, as she looked at the words written half-heartedly on the nearly blank piece of paper.
‘Begging your pardon, Miss, but there is a gentleman here. He came to the back door, wanting to see your grandfather. I’ve told him that he no longer lives here, but once he explained what his business was, I thought that perhaps you would like to save him the bother of travelling all the way to Crummock. Our Ethan will be calling on us this afternoon, and he could take the card back with him.’ Mazy looked at Jane and waited, with the visitor standing patiently behind her.
‘The card?’ Jane looked up.
‘Yes, Miss. Mr Bland here is delivering his grandfather’s funeral card.’
Jane got up from her desk and looked past Mazy, ignoring her question.
‘Mr Bland, how good it is to make your acquaintance. Please do accept my deepest condolences, on behalf of myself and all my family, on the loss of your grandfather. I’m afraid it is as Mazy says: my grandfather is now living at Crummock with his son. But, as Mazy is suggesting, we can make sure the invitation reaches him safely later in the day.’ Jane looked up at the blond-haired young man she now knew to be Daniel Bland, and was even more taken with his striking features.