A Mother's Grace

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘I reckon the master don’t know what he’s taken on wi’ our Mrs Batley,’ she whispered. ‘She can be as stubborn as a mule when she has a mind to be.’

  Harry nodded but made no comment. He himself had no complaints whatsoever since coming to live in Swan Lane. Mabel had even begun to put warm bricks into his bed each night and he had never eaten so well. Already the waistbands on his trousers felt a little tighter and although his room above the stable was cold, it was his and he loved the peace and quiet of it.

  ‘I’d best be off,’ he said, glancing at the clock. ‘I have to get the carriage out and the horses harnessed in time to get the judge to the railway station otherwise he’ll have me guts for garters.’

  Mrs Batley tutted. Why the judge couldn’t get himself to the station she had no idea. It was only around the corner, less than a ten-minute walk away. Harry swallowed the rest of his drink in a gulp and seconds later he was gone, leaving Mabel to stare after him with a dreamy look in her eyes.

  ‘I reckon someone not a million miles away has got a soft spot fer a certain young man,’ she teased.

  Mabel flushed and rose to carry the dirty pots to the sink. ‘I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,’ she snapped a little too quickly.

  Mrs Batley let the subject drop, for now at least.

  The judge arrived home as usual at five thirty that evening. He appeared to be in a particularly ill humour as his wife went to meet him in the hall.

  ‘Have you had a good day, dear?’ she questioned with a perfunctory peck on the cheek as she helped him off with his hat and coat. It was raining cats and dogs outside, freezing rain with a promise of snow in it.

  ‘Not particularly.’ He glanced down at her swollen stomach with a look of repugnance. What men found attractive in pregnant women he would never understand.

  ‘Never mind, come through to the day room. There’s a bright fire in there and you can get warm. Mrs Batley has the dinner almost ready.’

  He did as he was asked and once inside he crossed to the small table where the whisky was kept and poured himself a generous tot. He scowled at the almost-empty decanter.

  Soon they were summoned to the dining room and when Mabel placed a pie in the centre of the table, he frowned. ‘What do you call this? It’s working men’s fare. Where is the joint of meat? Send Batley to me at once!’

  Mabel scuttled away as fast as her legs would take her.

  ‘He wants you in the dining room right now,’ she informed the cook the second she set foot in the kitchen and the older woman nodded.

  ‘What the hell do you do you call this, woman?’ growled the judge when she entered the room. Disgusted, he stabbed a finger towards the offending pie as she stared innocently back at him.

  ‘Why, it’s a steak an’ kidney pie. Is it not to your likin’?’

  ‘I expect a proper meal when I’ve been working all day,’ he thundered. ‘Especially after the measly meal you served me at breakfast.’

  ‘I-I’m sure it will be delicious, Jacob,’ Madeline ventured timidly, hoping to calm him, but her words only seemed to incense him further.

  ‘Speak when you are spoken to, woman!’ He cast her a withering look and she seemed to shrink in her seat.

  ‘Well?’ He turned his attention back to Mrs Batley who returned his stare calmly.

  ‘I can only make the reduced housekeeping money stretch so far,’ she pointed out. ‘An’ you did tell me to cut down on the butcher’s bill, if I remember correctly. I cut the wine order in half as well, you’ll be pleased to know. After all there’s two extra mouths to feed now to what there were when the old master were alive an’ I was managin’ on the same money as he always gave me. But now …’ She spread her hands and shrugged as his face turned puce.

  ‘We will discuss this later,’ he told her abruptly. He sliced into the pie and placed a generous portion on his plate. ‘Oh, and by the way, I shall be having a dinner party here next Thursday for my colleagues from the law courts. There will be eight of us dining that evening and I shall expect something special served.’

  ‘Huh! Not on the housekeepin’ you give me there won’t be,’ she said bluntly and turning about she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  When she recounted what had been said to Mabel, the girl was appalled. ‘Eeh, yer never did,’ she gasped.

  Mrs Batley nodded. ‘I did, true as I’m standin’ here.’ She puffed her chest out. ‘There’s only one way to treat bullies an’ that’s to give as good as yer get an’ that man in there is a bully, all right! Why, even his own little wife is afraid o’ him, bless her. But he’ll not get the better o’ me, you just mark my words. If he wants a warm house an’ good food on the table then he’ll have to pay fer it.’

  Harry joined them then and unlike Judge Kettle’s, his eyes lit up at the sight of the steak and kidney pie Mrs Batley placed on the table with a dish of vegetables.

  He smiled at Mabel and took a seat. ‘Oh, that smells lovely,’ he said appreciatively.

  Mrs Batley’s face brightened. It was nice to cook for someone who appreciated it and she piled the young man’s plate high, much to his delight.

  When they’d eaten, Mabel served the judge and his wife with apple pie and thick creamy custard – at least he didn’t moan about that – then hurried back to the kitchen to have hers. No one could cook an apple pie like Mrs Batley, as far as Mabel was concerned.

  When the meal was over, the judge went to his room to get ready to go out as he did most evenings, while his wife retired to the day room to read for a while before going to bed.

  ‘Where the hell does he find to go to?’ Mrs Batley mused as she put her feet up at the side of the fire while Mabel tackled the dirty dishes.

  Harry just stared into the dancing flames and pretended he hadn’t heard her so she wisely didn’t push the point.

  When Mrs Batley went to present the weekly accounts to the judge later that week, he hastily read through them and pushed a pile of coins across the desk to her.

  ‘You will find some extra there,’ he told her as if he were bestowing her with some great gift. ‘Please make sure that my dinner guests are presented with a good meal. My wife will discuss the menus with you.’

  ‘Right y’are, judge.’ She pocketed the money and left the room with a smile on her face. Happen he wouldn’t be such a skinflint in future.

  Mrs Batley went to discuss the menu with Madeline later that day, and the poor young woman flew into a flap.

  ‘But I haven’t a clue what to suggest,’ she told the older woman truthfully. ‘My father and I dined very simply and I have no idea what Jacob would like.’

  ‘It’s all right, pet,’ Mrs Batley soothed. ‘The old master had a few posh dinner parties himself from time to time so I’m happy to make suggestions. What about a nice melon for starters, something fresh for the palate? Then we could have beef with a red wine sauce – my sauces are quite tasty I’m told – followed by a fresh cream trifle an’ a selection o’ cheese an’ biscuits?’

  Madeline clapped her hands with relief. ‘Oh yes. That all sounds wonderful … but won’t it make rather a lot of work for you?’

  ‘Don’t you get frettin’ about that, lass. I enjoy cookin’ an’ I’ve got Mabel to help me.’

  Madeline looked relieved. ‘Thank you, you are so kind.’

  Mrs Batley gave her a crafty wink. ‘If the master should ask I’ll tell him you came up with the menu, eh? That’ll put you in his good books.’

  Madeline giggled, totally transforming her usual serious features and Mrs Batley was saddened. She was such a nice young lass and deserved to be married to a man that appreciated her.

  The dinner party was a huge success, although Mrs Batley suspected that Madeline didn’t enjoy it. The judge had invited two lawyers, another judge and their wives. The other women looked like multi-coloured butterflies in their silks and satins, and Madeline felt dull and dowdy by comparison.

  ‘As you can see, my wife i
s in a somewhat delicate condition,’ the judge apologised as he introduced them to her in the hallway while Mabel took their cloaks and bonnets. ‘So please excuse her for not looking her best.’

  Poor Madeline seemed to shrivel as she pulled her shawl about her and blushed, and the evening got no better for her as they sat down to the meal. One of the women present had known Jacob’s first wife and without even thinking how it might make Madeline feel she commented, ‘I do so miss, Julia, Jacob. We were such good friends and she was such a beautiful person. How sad that she should die giving birth to your child. Still’ – she glanced towards Madeline – ‘at least you are about to become a father now. How clever of you it was to marry a younger woman. I’m sure she will not have to endure losing one child after another as Julia did.’

  The conversation moved on to other things but for Madeline the night was ruined. Had Jacob married her simply because he hoped she could bear him a child? She thought it more than likely. After their disastrous wedding night, Jacob had only come to her rarely, and when he did the act was over in seconds. He had seemed relieved when she’d told him she was with child and had not attempted to touch her since, for which she was grateful.

  But now was not the time for such thoughts, so she fixed a false smile to her lips and tried desperately to get through the rest of the evening.

  Chapter Five

  ‘The food last night was wonderful, Mrs Batley,’ Madeline told her the next morning when she ventured into the kitchen after Jacob had gone to work.

  Mrs Batley glanced up from trimming the pastry on a mince pie she was preparing for their pudding that evening. The girl looked pale.

  ‘Why don’t yer come an’ take the weight off yer feet an’ share a hot drink wi’ me an’ Mabel,’ she invited. ‘We usually have one round about this time.’

  Mabel immediately pushed the kettle onto the hob and pulled out a chair for the mistress who sank onto it gratefully. She felt so ungainly now and seemed to waddle rather than walk.

  Mrs Batley dusted the flour from her hands and popped the pie into the oven before joining her young mistress. Madeline often slipped into the kitchen to have a word and the older woman sensed that she was lonely and bored. Still, she thought optimistically, all that will change once she has a baby to look after.

  ‘So how are you feeling?’ she asked as she laid three cups out and measured sugar into them.

  ‘Huge! Like a beached whale!’ The mistress grinned as she looked around the kitchen appreciatively before saying, ‘You keep this room so nice; the whole house in fact. And young Harry is doing a lovely job of decorating the nursery.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to say so, and yes he is,’ Mrs Batley replied. ‘He seems to be a nice lad although he’s very quiet. He doesn’t give much away about his past, if you know what I mean.’

  Madeline nodded. ‘I do know; I’ve found the same. He’d been working for my husband for about a year when we first got married but apart from the fact that I know Jacob rescued him from the streets, he’s not said anything else.’ She sighed and glancing towards the window said sadly, ‘I do tend to get bored lately. I was always busy when my father was alive, helping him with something or another.’

  ‘Perhaps a bit o’ fresh air might perk you up?’ Mabel suggested. ‘It’s market day today and I have to go and get a few things for Mrs Batley. It’s not far to walk but if you fancy comin’ you’ll need to wrap up warm. It’s enough to freeze the hairs off a brass monkey out there.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.’ Mrs Batley looked out of the window. It was so cold that the frost hadn’t thawed at all. ‘Everywhere’s goin’ to be very slippery,’ she pointed out. ‘An’ we don’t want yer goin’ yer length so close to yer time.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought o’ that,’ Mabel answered gloomily but Madeline seemed quite excited at the prospect.

  ‘I could hold on to your arm and take my time,’ she said. ‘And I’d love to see a little of the town. I haven’t been anywhere apart from to church since we moved here.’

  ‘I’ve got to drop a few bits in to me mam an’ I’m afraid it’s not very posh where she lives. Not at all the sort o’ place you must be used to,’ Mabel added worriedly.

  ‘Oh, that wouldn’t trouble me at all,’ Madeline assured her. ‘Believe me, I visited some very squalid slums with my father when I lived in Leeds … Not that I’m suggesting your parents’ home will be like that,’ she added hastily.

  She noticed Mrs Batley adding half a loaf to a large wicker basket and the woman explained, ‘I’ve done a fresh batch o’ bread this mornin’ an’ the old master always encouraged me to send anythin’ as we couldn’t eat – leftovers an’ whatever – to Mabel’s mam. She’s allus glad of it, bless her, wi’ so many mouths to feed an’ her husband crippled an’ it’s better than throwin’ it away. I hope that’s all right wi’ you?’

  Madeline smiled and nodded. ‘Of course it is.’ Then, glancing at Mabel, she pleaded, ‘Please may I come? It would be so nice to get out of the house for a while.’

  Always obliging, Mabel nodded. ‘Of course, but as I said be sure to put yer warmest coat on an’ I’ll see you back here in ten minutes.’

  Ten minutes later, Mabel lifted the heavy basket and the two young women set off down Swan Lane.

  As they passed St Mary’s Abbey Church, which Madeline had recently started to attend, Mabel said, ‘Did you know that the church used to be a priory with monks livin’ in one side of it an’ nuns in the other?’

  Madeline was amazed. ‘No, I had no idea,’ she admitted as she gripped tight to Mabel’s free arm. As they’d feared, the paths were treacherously slippery, and she didn’t want to fall. When they came to the end of the lane they turned left.

  ‘This is Queen’s Road, the main road through the town. We’ll come to the shops an’ the market stalls soon.’

  Madeline couldn’t stop smiling. It was lovely to be out in the fresh air even if it was bitterly cold. She had put on her thickest coat and warmest dress and although it was fairly plain, she still looked very smart compared to Mabel who was forced to brave the winter weather with nothing more than a woollen shawl about her shoulders. As they approached the shops, Madeline looked about with interest. There was a baker’s shop with loaves of crusty bread and cakes displayed in the window and a butcher with braces of pheasants and pigs’ heads dangling from large hooks. Madeline quickly looked away from that. Next was a hardware shop displaying metal buckets and ceramic bowls, sweeping brushes and seemingly everything anyone could need for a kitchen. Next to that was a dress shop and further on a haberdasher and a milliner with a smart bonnet trimmed with peacock feathers displayed in the window.

  ‘Ain’t that just the most beautiful bonnet you ever saw? One day I shall have a bonnet like that.’ Mabel sighed as she paused to stare at it longingly and when Madeline agreed that it was indeed very fetching she reluctantly moved on.

  Soon they were assailed by a myriad of sounds and smells as they arrived at the stalls that had been erected in rows all down either side of the street. One stall was piled high with what appeared to be second-hand clothing and this was one of the busiest stalls of all as women with pinched faces rummaged eagerly through them.

  ‘That’s the rag stall. Me mam gets all the kids’ clothes from there,’ Mabel informed Madeline. ‘You can get some rare old bargains. She sells second-hand boots an’ all an’ sometimes yer can drop on a pair that have hardly been worn. I got these from there fer tuppence.’ She stuck out her foot proudly to show a sturdy black lace-up boot. They were very cumbersome and quite ugly and Madeline felt they would have been far more suited to a man, but Mabel was clearly very happy with them so she smiled and nodded.

  ‘I’m just goin’ to pop into here,’ Mabel told her, pointing to a shop that was displaying brightly coloured hanks of wool in the window. ‘Batty asked me to pick her up a roll o’ black wool fer darnin’ her stockings.’

  While she was gone, Madeline p
ounced on a red item that she had spotted amongst the tumble of clothes on the rag stall. It turned out to be a muffler, thick and warm with hardly any signs of wear so she paid for it hastily and when Mabel reappeared she handed it to her with a smile.

  ‘This is for you, I thought you looked rather cold.’

  Mabel’s mouth gaped with pleasure and surprise at the kind gesture and in seconds she had wound it about her neck.

  ‘Ooh, it’s just lovely.’ She giggled as she admired her reflection in a shop window. ‘An’ me neck an’ shoulders are as warm as toast now. Thanks, missus, it’s one o’ the nicest gifts I’ve ever been given.’

  With one hand still stroking her present, they moved on and soon came to the cattle market where pens that held a variety of loudly protesting animals – pigs, cows, horses, and chickens in cages and nearby farmers were loudly bartering their worth.

  ‘We’ll drop these off to me mam then we’ll get the things Mrs Batley asked for,’ Mabel told her as she headed off up Abbey Street. Soon they came to a long, narrow alley and as they moved along it, a sickening smell met them.

  ‘That’s the shared privy an’ the pig pen,’ Mabel said apologetically. ‘All year round the people from the court feed the pig on scraps, then just before Christmas the pig is slaughtered an’ they all get to share it fer Christmas dinner. Then in the New Year they buy another piglet from the cattle market an’ it all starts over again.’

  Secretly, Madeline was sure that she couldn’t have eaten an animal that she had nurtured all year but then she supposed that needs must. She found herself in a dismal courtyard with four tiny cottages, two on either side of it.

  ‘This is where me family lives,’ Mabel told her, heading towards the furthest door. ‘They were originally built fer the ribbon weavers that used to live an’ work here. The attic used to house their looms but people use ’em as an extra bedroom now.’

  Seconds later, she stepped into a small room and beckoned Madeline to follow her. It seemed to be full of children of various ages ranging from a baby crawling about the flagstones to a girl who looked to be slightly younger than Mabel.