The Lonely Wife

by Val Wood

  ‘I haven’t done anything yet,’ she’d said. ‘It’s you I’ve to thank for bringing Mr Hallam here.’

  He’d seized her hand and swung it as if they were children, and grinned. ‘You took the bull by the horns, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘Do you know what that means?’

  ‘Ye-es, I suppose,’ she’d replied, rather taken aback by the fact that she was holding hands with a man who wasn’t her husband.

  ‘You seized the situation and dealt with it yourself and without anyone else’s say-so or permission,’ he’d said. ‘I notice that Charles isn’t here to put in his pennyworth.’

  She’d laughed and loosened her hand. ‘You do talk in riddles, Edward. But Charles agreed to go ahead with the plan and I didn’t in the least expect him to become involved. I’ll write to him and explain what is happening.’

  He’d given her a significant glance. ‘So you’ll be to blame if it doesn’t work?’

  She’d raised her eyebrows and given a slight nod, and he’d taken her hand again, swinging it until they were in view of Old Stone Hall, when he released it. ‘So we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t fail, won’t we!’

  Now, as she looked over the lawn from the sitting room window and thought of that day, she thought how incredible it was that so much had happened in so little time. The two residences were all but finished and she was the mother of a fine boy and running an estate. And for the simple things in life, there were daisies in the lawn. She had asked the gardener’s lad to leave some patches of them when he cut the grass, for she loved to see them during the day and especially in the evening when they looked like stars in the dusk.

  Charles, his parents and Paul had returned to London soon after the baptism, and her parents and Sophia had left the following day. She was alone again but for the servants. This won’t do, she thought. I am fed up with my own company so I will go calling. I feel fit and well, I’ve been churched and Laurence is baptized so no one will refuse us, and I will take my lovely boy out on his first visit. She rang the bell for Dora.

  ‘Ask Aaron to bring up the pony and trap,’ she told her. ‘You’re happy to drive, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I love it,’ Dora said eagerly. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re going calling.’ Beatrix laughed. ‘I’m taking Laurence out visiting. First we’ll call on Mrs Stokes and Rosie. They won’t mind about the time, but if they are not at home I’ll leave my card; and then we’ll go to see Mags, because she hasn’t seen the baby yet. So best bib and tucker, Dora, and a warm blanket for Laurie.’

  ‘Laurie! I like that, ma’am. Laurence will fit him better when he’s older. Are you taking the nursemaid?’

  ‘No, I’m not. She can have an hour off whilst I take my son out.’

  ‘Is it the done thing, ma’am?’ Dora asked. ‘It’s all right for such as my mother, but for ladies like you …?’

  ‘I’m visiting friends, Dora; they’ll be pleased to see me. It’s a lovely day and we’ll take extra blankets so that Laurie doesn’t catch cold. He won’t, will he?’ she asked, a little anxious now that Dora had queried the outing.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of him catching cold, ma’am, I was thinking of what people might say.’

  ‘I don’t care what people might say,’ Beatrix said petulantly. ‘I’m going to do what I think is right. I don’t want my child to be mollycoddled. I want him to grow up hardy and strong and able to make his own decisions without reference to society’s rule book.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am, and I’ll bring a warm shawl for you too whilst we’re driving.’

  ‘Thank you, Dora.’ Beatrix smiled. ‘Whatever would I do without you?’

  As they drove off in the pony and trap, another thought came to her. I think we should have a carriage, and then I could travel during wet weather and bring the nursery maid if I wanted to, though at the moment I’m very happy to hold Laurie on my knee. Charles can afford one; he’s always telling me about the wealth he will have now that he’s produced a son. Nothing to do with me, of course!

  Rosetta Stokes and her mother were very pleased to see her and not in the least taken aback by her travelling alone with only a maid, and were delighted to greet the infant Laurie.

  ‘His colouring is very like yours,’ Rosie remarked. ‘Which of course is a good thing. Fond relatives will comment that the child favours your side!’

  ‘They will, of course, though Charles’s colouring is very similar,’ Beatrix said, and considered that her mother had already mentioned that Laurie looked just like her as a child and Charles had asked if he favoured him. He will be a blending of the two of us, she thought.

  ‘I have been reading in the newspapers about Mrs Caroline Norton, the socialite,’ Mrs Stokes commented, referring to nothing they had been discussing but obviously eager to impart news. ‘She’s in the public eye again. You’ll have heard of her, I expect? No?’ she uttered in a surprised tone when Beatrix shook her head and murmured that she hadn’t. ‘I would have thought you’d have been sure to have heard of her, being a London gel. But perhaps you’re too young?’

  ‘Of course Beatrix is too young, Mama,’ Rosie broke in with a great sigh. ‘We both are! I only know of her because you’ve spoken of her so often.’

  ‘She’s one of my heroines,’ Mrs Stokes asserted. ‘Such a brave woman. Fighting her corner against all those influential powerful men.’

  ‘Mother’s favourite hobby horse,’ Rosie remarked laconically. ‘Poor Papa. He always goes out of the room when Mama begins one of her tirades, in case anyone thinks she’s talking about him!’

  ‘I never need to discuss your father,’ Mrs Stokes commented. ‘He is the most amiable of men.’

  ‘Always does what Mama wants, she means,’ Rosie added in a low voice, and Beatrix smiled.

  ‘So who is Caroline Norton?’ she asked. ‘Why should I have heard of her?’

  ‘Every woman should mark her words even if they live in a perfect marriage.’ Mrs Stokes got into her stride. ‘She embodies a warning to all women and has already influenced an Act of Parliament. She and her husband live quite separately, and she is about to bring another case against him.’ She laughed. ‘A most dreadful man,’ she went on. ‘Every woman will agree, and her case against him this time is that she has referred her creditors to him, for as I expect you will know, my dear, a husband is liable for his wife’s debts!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Beatrix left Rosetta and her mother with her thoughts in a whirl. She had stayed for only fifteen minutes but Mrs Stokes had regaled her with every detail of the apparently infamous society rebel and reformer Caroline Norton, who had taken her husband to court on several occasions; he had done the same to her and had even levelled the accusation that she and the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, who was a friend of hers, had engaged in an adulterous affair.

  Seemingly she had written a book based on her own experience of living with a brutal husband, who had refused to give her access to her children and banned her from seeing them.

  Why would Mrs Stokes tell me such a tale, she thought as Dora steered the pony in the direction of the Newby farmhouse. I feel quite unsettled. I’m a new mother, after all, and don’t wish to hear such things; but then she reconsidered. I suppose that every woman should know of Caroline Norton and the struggle she had to try to gain custody of her children. The law was changed as a result, and yet in spite of it all she didn’t win that conflict, for her husband took the children off to Scotland where the new English laws didn’t apply.

  Mags Newby greeted her enthusiastically, took Laurie from her as she bade her sit down, and put the infant on her own knee. ‘We’d heard you’d had a son,’ she said. ‘And you’re a right bonny bairn, aren’t you?’ she cooed at him. ‘I do love young babbies. They’re so helpless and dependent on us, aren’t they? I wish I’d had half a dozen more.’ She looked up at Beatrix and her voice dropped. ‘Edward and his sisters had a brother once, but we lost ’little lad even afore
he’d started to walk. Got pneumonia he did, so nothing could be done.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Beatrix said softly. ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been very difficult for you.’

  She couldn’t imagine the sorrow that she would feel if Laurie was taken from her, and with a sudden flash of pity she thought of the society woman championed by Mrs Stokes, who had had her children taken from her but had made it possible for other women to gain custody of theirs.

  Edward, followed by his father, came in just as she was leaving, and she saw him take a sudden breath when he saw her with Laurie in her arms.

  ‘Good day, Mrs Dawley,’ he murmured formally. ‘You look … very well. Might we take a look at your son?’

  ‘And put a silver coin in his palm,’ Luke Newby said over his shoulder. ‘Ma,’ he called to Mags, who had gone into the kitchen to fetch something, ‘have you got a silver sixpence?’ and followed her out of the room.

  ‘He’s a handsome lad,’ Edward said softly. ‘Has the look of his mother, no question about it.’ Without touching the baby’s face, with the tips of his finger and thumb he gently pulled back the shawl to take a better look, and nodded. ‘Her tender skin and golden hair.’

  Beatrix flushed and swallowed. ‘We – er, we couldn’t decide whose side he favoured,’ she murmured. ‘We’ll perhaps have to wait awhile.’

  Luke came back in holding a coin in his hand and Edward with a crooked grin stood back. ‘Da’s a believer in these old superstitions,’ he jested. ‘It’s supposed to mean he’ll always have money in his hand, or some such make-believe.’

  ‘Ah, well.’ Luke Newby touched the baby’s open palm with the coin and his tiny fingers closed around it. ‘There, you see, it’s as well not to take owt for granted.’ He looked at Beatrix. ‘It’s a clean coin,’ he said. ‘We washed it under ’tap just to be sure.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Beatrix said gratefully. ‘You’re all very kind.’

  Mags came back carrying a basket of apples. ‘That’s because we’re relieved that Charles didn’t bring some toffee-nosed young woman to live in Uncle Nev’s owd house,’ she commented. ‘We wouldn’t have been happy about that.’ She handed the basket to Dora, who was waiting by the door. ‘P’raps Cook can mek use of these,’ she said. ‘They’re early June drop, but good enough for baking. Thank you for bringing your new bairn to see us,’ she said, smiling, and peeking at the child once more. ‘Tek him home now. Keep him clear of any chills or draughts and he’ll thrive.’

  Edward went before them to open the door, letting Dora with the basket of apples out first and taking Beatrix’s elbow to make sure she didn’t trip over the step.

  ‘Thank you, Edward,’ she said softly, and glancing at him was confused by the expression on his face as he led her to the trap. It wasn’t so much a look of sadness as an indication of loss or hurt, and she knew instinctively that it was to do with her.

  Charles’s summer party was held in August. There had been a spell of long hot days so fortunately the harvesting hadn’t yet begun; it was being held back a week to take advantage of the weather. Beatrix had invited Mr and Mrs Stokes and Rosetta, who had become a particular friend, but they had already accepted another invitation, but her friends Sophia and Eleanor had accepted. Most of the guests were accommodated in Little Stone House, but apart from Paul, Beatrix didn’t know any of Charles’s friends, and as she wasn’t sure who were married and who were not she didn’t want to risk her own friends’ welfare and gave Sophia and Nell a room in the main house close to her own.

  She was introduced to the men who had brought their wives – or fiancées, as they described them; it was a word Beatrix had not heard before – and she vaguely hoped that Mrs Gordon had arranged enough beds. But it appeared that it didn’t matter too much, and, rather uncomfortably, she came to the conclusion that not all of them were married, or at least not to the young women they had brought with them.

  Charles’s friend Paul had come alone but knew most of the other men, and he was the one who was most courteous towards Sophia and Eleanor, bringing them glasses of champagne and serving them from plates of sweet and savoury pastries, little pastry cups filled with freshly cooked shrimps or cheese and local dishes of syllabub, flummery and sorbets.

  For those with a heartier appetite, Cook, assisted by Mags, had made a pork pie, boiled a ham, roasted a leg of pork and made rabbit stew to be eaten with a batch of freshly made bread; to follow was apple pie or steamed pudding with cream or custard.

  Beatrix, wandering amongst the guests, came to the conclusion that very few of them would have savoured any better food than they were eating now, and as the evening drew on and the guests pulled on warm jackets and shawls and placed blankets over their knees to sit sipping their drinks until late, the men dug deep into their pockets and put money in an empty dish to give to Cook.

  Charles came and put his arm about Beatrix’s waist, kissed her cheek and murmured, ‘Well done, Beatrix. A perfect occasion.’ He lit a cigar and said casually, ‘If you’re feeling tired don’t feel you must stay up late to act as hostess. This crowd,’ he lifted his hand to indicate their guests, ‘will be here until midnight at least.’

  ‘Oh, will they?’ she said. ‘Well, in that case I might take my leave. It’s past ten o’clock and I was awake very early this morning. Mrs Gordon and a maid will stay up to clear away.’

  He kissed her cheek again. ‘Off you go then. They’ll understand.’

  ‘I’ll say goodnight,’ she said, and he nodded.

  ‘I’ll be in later,’ he murmured as she moved away to take her leave of the guests. As she walked towards them she saw Sophia and Eleanor rise from their chairs and Sophia shake her head at Paul and move his hand from her arm. She greeted them and said she was going inside and saw a look of relief on Sophia’s face.

  ‘We’re going in too,’ Eleanor told her. ‘It’s been lovely, Beatrix.’

  Beatrix said goodnight to everyone, the men kissed her hand and thanked her for her hospitality, the women smiled sweetly and she turned to go in. She found herself facing Paul, who took hold of both her hands and kissed her cheek, which she found rather strange considering she hardly knew him.

  ‘Thank you, beautiful lady,’ he slurred, and she realized he was inebriated. ‘Charles is a very lucky fellow. I must remind him that he has a lovely little wife here. Never mind gallivanting in London,’ he waved a hand around, ‘this is where he should be.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘That you will.’ He touched the side of his nose. ‘If not before.’

  She walked away towards the house, Sophia and Eleanor by her side. ‘Odious man,’ she muttered, pleased that he was staying in the annexe and not the main house. ‘I hope he didn’t upset either of you? He seemed so charming to begin with.’

  ‘He was,’ Eleanor said. ‘But he’s had too much wine. He’ll be sorry in the morning.’

  Dora must have been watching from the window, for the door was opened as soon as they reached the top of the steps. ‘Cook’s making hot drinks, ma’am,’ she told Beatrix, and looked at Sophia and Eleanor. ‘Would you like them upstairs, miss?’

  Sophia and Nell looked at Beatrix, who smiled and said, ‘Let’s all have them in your room, shall we? Then we can have a gossip about everyone.’

  Her friends giggled and Dora smiled. ‘I’ll bring a tray up, ma’am,’ she told Beatrix. ‘Cheese and biscuits? A slice of fruit cake?’

  ‘Some sliced ham and mustard and bread,’ Beatrix said. ‘I’ve hardly eaten anything. I was too nervous before and now I’m starving. Let’s have our own party upstairs. Come on, before anyone else comes in and catches us.’

  And feeling like schoolgirls again, they all ran upstairs.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Had Charles had his way, that year’s summer party might have set a precedent for an annual revelry, but the following summer Beatrix was pregnant again and suffering badly f
rom morning sickness which kept her in bed most mornings for months. She told Charles she couldn’t cope with so many guests and Charles, annoyed, said he would halve the number of invitations. Beatrix reluctantly agreed.

  When Charles arrived with Paul he was driving a brand-new black-and-red-trimmed brougham which he had ordered from a York carriage maker; he told Beatrix that he had also put in an order for a second-hand clarence in good repair with a waterproof hood, large enough to carry her and one other person plus two children.

  ‘You’ll need something sturdy for the roads around here,’ he had told her, and she had shrugged and said, ‘Yes, of course.’

  He hadn’t been to Yorkshire for two weeks and she saw that he’d caught the sun: his forehead was a fading red and the skin on his nose was peeling, his hair bleached almost white. ‘It must have been very hot in London,’ she remarked. ‘I’ll search out some calamine to take away the soreness.’

  ‘I’ve been in Rome,’ he disclosed, as she was gently smoothing on the lotion, and added that he had attended an international banking meeting, which she didn’t believe for one moment. ‘I wore a hat but it didn’t protect sufficiently. A crazy idea to hold a conference there in the summer. I won’t go again.’

  And he wouldn’t; he had vehemently told Maria, whose idea it had been that they should take a holiday in Rome, never to ask him to go abroad in the summer again. Reluctantly she ministered to him when he suffered heatstroke that kept him in a darkened room; then she had closed the curtains and left him there whilst she went off to explore the city.

  Beatrix on the other hand had kept on her sun bonnet whenever she went out during the hot weather, and at the end of June and beginning of July, when haymaking was under way and she had gone out in the fields to help with refreshments, she put up her parasol, with the result that her face and neck were only lightly tanned and the fine hairs on her arms were golden.

  Now, in mid-August, the harvesting of the winter corn began and the local community, as traditionally it always did, helped out in everyone’s fields. Whole families came to work, men, women and children moving from farm to farm to ensure a rich harvest for all. The calls and shouts and laughter could be heard over the fields and hedges as everyone began work, and some of the party guests wandered up the lanes to watch the corn being cut and stacked, but when it was the time for the Dawley fields to begin they beat a hasty retreat as swarms of thrips and flies descended on them. The party was not considered a great success as the guests scurried indoors to escape.