And what if, just if, Tom should marry her? Then what would happen to me? I wouldn’t be mistress in my own home. I would take second place to Sammi!
We were travelling this road joyfully so little time ago
, Ellen mused.
First a wedding and now a funeral. Poor Isaac
. She felt sad at her brother-in-law’s death, but little sympathy for his widow, having considered for a long time that Mildred had not given much consideration to Isaac.
I wonder if she knows that Adam is Gilbert’s child? Hmm. I think not. She would view the situation quite differently if she did. Gilbert was always her favourite. It would still have been wounding to her sensibilities of course; she would have been angry, but I’m sure some provision would have been made for him
.
And James, how is he going to feel when he hears the news of his father? He will be devastated. Quite bereft. I hope that he will be there and not miss his father’s funeral as he did his brother’s wedding. My poor William
. She glanced at her husband sitting with his chin in his hand, looking quite miserable.
He has taken this very hard, he was very fond of his brother
. Sammi was gazing out of the window, her face expressionless.
And what shall I do about you, Sammi?
Her mother watched her.
She worries over Adam. As I do too
.
Gilbert must be confronted, she thought positively. She was reluctant to risk Gilbert’s marriage by challenging him, yet annoyed and distressed that he should so blithely let someone else take responsibility. Her gaze fell on Richard. He was looking out of the window at the stubble and the set ricks standing high, at the teams of men and horses who were harrowing the fields. There would be no problem
there. Richard would find himself a sturdy farmer’s daughter to wed and lead an uncomplicated life.
Tom is a good sensible lad
, she thought, giving him a sideways glance as he sat, his eyes on his clasped hands.
He’ll do well at the mill; he’s steady and reliable
. She watched him as his gaze lifted to Sammi, still staring out of the window as they bumped along the potholed road; and there was something in his expression which made her look at him again a few minutes later.
There is something troubling him
, she puzzled.
He is unhappy over something
. He was gazing at Sammi with such a brooding, longing expression, that Ellen was quite startled.
What could it mean? She shifted in her seat; Tom looked up and caught her watching him. He gave her a slight smile but with such a look of intense sorrow, which for a brief moment he wasn’t able to hide, that her heart went out to him. He looked away and she turned her thoughts to other things, but when she surreptitiously glanced at him again as they rattled into the streets of Hull, she saw that once more he had turned wistful eyes to Sammi.
Tom? Not Tom? Not Tom and Sammi? For a moment she was disturbed and confused; then as she discerned that what she saw written on Tom’s face was unrequited longing, and on Sammi’s was unsuspecting innocence, she became calm and practical. Gone were her thoughts of Tom’s steadfastness and reliability, and in their place was a picture of frustrated manhood. Sammi must come home immediately!
She is still unworldly, no matter that she thinks she knows about life. I must protect my daughter! Not from Tom, he wouldn’t harm her, of that I am sure, but from herself! She is so compassionate and warm-hearted that if she should discover how Tom feels about her, she might be swayed by his emotions before she is aware of her own
.
There was something wrong! Dusk was falling as James arrived at his home, but there was no sign of lamplight from behind the tightly drawn curtains at the windows. There were two carriages outside the door. One he recognized as belonging to the doctor, but the other he didn’t know. It was completely black and shiny and drawn by two black mares. He walked slowly up the steps. He could think only the worst. He turned the door-knob. The door was locked and he hadn’t a key. He rang the bell and waited, like a stranger to his own home.
Mary opened the door. Her eyes were red as if she had been weeping. ‘Oh, Master James. You’ve come at last. We were all hoping that you would.’
‘What’s happened, Mary? Is my father worse?’
His mother stepped out of the sitting-room. Her face was deathly pale and her words were tremulous. ‘Your father died early this morning, James. He knew no pain. He passed peacefully away in his sleep.’
She moved towards him and he kissed her cheek. ‘I didn’t realize, I didn’t know,’ he stammered. ‘I would have come before.’
If I had come immediately
, he thought,
I would still have had only a short time with him
. Guilt hit him like a blow.
But I could at least have told him what I was doing, and about the people I had met. He would have liked that. He was interested in me, unlike Mother. I would have told him about Batsford, and about Mariabella, and about Romanelli who has promised to introduce me to Rossetti. Now it is too late. He will never know
.
He put his hand to his eyes to quell his tears, and
his mother took him by the arm and led him into the study which had been his father’s. ‘Stay here a moment, James, until you have recovered,’ she said quietly. ‘Then, when you feel able, come into the sitting-room. The doctor is here, and the undertaker. The funeral service has been arranged for tomorrow.’
‘And Gilbert? Where is he?’
Surely
, he thought,
Gilbert should be here making arrangements, not Mother!
‘Gilbert has been here most of the day, he came as soon as he received my message. He sent off a telegram to your lodgings this morning, and has been busy notifying everyone who needed to know. He has only just gone home, you have missed him by only half an hour.’
‘Gone home?’ He looked at her with dull eyes. ‘But this is his home.’
She put a nervous hand to her throat. ‘Not any more. He and Harriet are married.’
He stared at her. ‘Married?’ Anger took place of sorrow and he raised his voice. ‘Without telling me? Am I so unimportant that I wasn’t told?’
‘It was a lapse on Gilbert’s part that you were not told,’ his mother admitted. ‘Your father was very angry with him, but it was because of your father’s illness and all the extra work that Gilbert had to do, that he forgot to mention his marriage in his letter to you.’
‘Some marriage!’ James said bitterly. ‘If Gilbert forgot about it. It doesn’t bode well for it.’
‘I’m sorry, James.’ His mother was contrite and it occurred to him that she didn’t normally apologize. ‘You are right to be upset. Gilbert can’t forgive himself for the lapse.’
And nor can I
, James resolved.
But at least I know now exactly where I stand. When my father is safely put to rest I shall leave this house and never return
.
It was stiflingly hot in the town, even though it was only just ten o’clock in the morning. At Gilbert’s
decree, Masterson and Rayner had closed their office for the day out of respect for his father. A large gathering of shipping magnates and business people, as well as employees, were expected at the service at St Andrew’s Church in the parish of Kirk Ella, where the parishioners of Anlaby worshipped.
Billy dressed and ate breakfast and walked into the town to meet his parents’ carriage at the appointed time. He was early, so he cut across The Land of Green Ginger where the banks were just opening their doors, and crossed the junction of Silver Street and Whitefriargate.
A group of women and children from the workhouse were standing around in random fashion outside the Custom House, and two uniformed policemen were bearing down on them in a high-handed manner, which could only mean, Billy thought, that they would be moved on. He gave a quick glance at their situation and continued on down Trinity House Lane towards the church of The Holy Trinity and the cellars.
He put his fingers inside his high collar and eased it a little. It was so hot; he wrinkled his nostrils, the air was close and muggy, permeated with the smell of blubber and fish oil.
Jenny was sitting at the top of the cellar steps, she had an old frayed blanket around her shoulders and her feet were bare. ‘’Morning, Master Billy.’ Her face was pale and she seemed to have lost her normal cheerful manner. ‘You’re about early,’ she commented. ‘I’d have thought tha’d be in thy nice office at this time of day.’
‘I would be normally, Jenny, but I’m going to a funeral and the office is closed today.’
She pursed her lips in sympathy and nodded.
‘Are you not well, Jenny? You look pale. Paler than usual, I mean.’
Though what a fatuous remark
, he thought.
How can anyone look well, living down in that rat hole?
‘I’m all right. It’s just that I’m so tired I could sleep for a fortnight. I’ve been up all night, you see. One of ’bairns down there was sick. He was vomiting all night and I couldn’t stand ’stink any longer, so I came up to ’street and thought I’d kip out here.’ She shook her head in disapproval. ‘But I was bothered all night long. Allus some fellow nudging me with his boot. I got quite ratty in the end. I told ’em straight – get off to Leadenhall Square, I told ’em, plenty of willing girls there, and don’t be bothering decent women. By,’ she said, an impish grin lighting up her face, ‘I could have made a packet o’ money, Master Billy, if I’d been willing.’
He froze in disbelief. Jenny didn’t seem to realize that she had been lucky. Sooner or later some man would come along who wouldn’t take no for an answer and would force himself upon her, regardless of her wishes.
‘Jenny?’ How could he couch the question?
She looked up at him and smiled. Her eyes were shadowed beneath the lids, but so bright and trusting.
He swallowed. ‘Jenny? Erm – have you … have you ever been with a man? Has a man ever—’
‘Taken me, does tha mean, Master Billy?’ she asked candidly. ‘No. I’ve managed to dodge them up to now, though I’ve had a few narrow squeaks. Mark you,’ she folded her arms about her thin chest, ‘it can’t be all that bad. I heard tell of a friend, she’s a bit older than me, about fourteen, and she’s got herself fixed up regular. And she’s got a room to share with only a couple of others; ’windows are broken and roof leaks, but she’s got money for food, and a nice frock to wear for her customers.’
‘Jenny!’ He spoke on impulse. ‘Would you like to move away from here if I could manage it?’
She gazed at him suspiciously. ‘Where to?’
‘Perhaps as a kitchen maid in my mother’s house?’
‘She’d never take me!’ she said, a touch of derision in her voice. ‘Why should she?’
He didn’t know why she should,
But I’ll ask
, he thought.
Or at least I’ll ask Sammi first and see what she thinks
.
‘Anyway,’ Jenny eyed him questioningly, ‘what about ’other bairns who are here? They rely on me. How can I go and leave ’em?’
‘You’d have to, Jenny.’ What a caring girl she was, in spite of the life she was leading. ‘You’d have to think about yourself for once. Surely the others would understand?’
‘Would I ride in that little carriage?’ Her face was brightening with expectancy.
‘Possibly.’ He grinned as the idea took hold. ‘But think about it and I’ll speak to my family about it.’
‘All right,’ she beamed. ‘I’ll think about it and ask other ’bairns what they think I should do. They probably wouldn’t mind, they’d be glad for me. Some of ’em, anyway.’ Her face clouded again. ‘Some of ’em are too sick to care one way or other.’
‘What’s the matter with them?’ he asked. ‘What sort of sickness have they got?’
She shrugged. ‘Vomiting and sweaty – some is worse than others. Must have ate something disagreeable,’ she said dryly. ‘Too much rich food, Master Billy!’
He set off back, walking along the Old Harbour side where there was a slight breeze blowing, and towards the North Bridge where he had arranged to meet the carriage. It was waiting for him already and he started to run. ‘Sorry, Ma, Father. I’ve just had a meeting with someone. I’ve been arranging a new maid for Sammi.’ He studied the astonishment on their faces. ‘I hope you’ll approve.’
After the funeral, the family and a few close friends returned to Humber Villa while the company of black carriages, carrying employees and former shipping colleagues of Isaac Rayner, snaked its way back through the villages into Hull.
Some of the men withdrew into the smoking-room,
but the close family gathered in the drawing-room and talked quietly while they ate and drank the refreshments which had been provided for them.
James stood slightly apart and observed them. His mother appeared to be remarkably calm, yet when in church, as he sat at one side of her and Gilbert at the other, he had noticed that, although her face was unseen below the thick black veil, her shoulders shook and her hands holding the prayer book trembled.
Sammi had caught his eye once or twice during the service as she’d sat in the pew across the aisle and had given him a sympathetic nod. He knew that he would have to speak to her before she left and tell her of his decision about the child. Her father, Uncle William, was very sombre, he seemed to feel the loss of James’s father very keenly; James had observed him several times during the service, surreptitiously blowing his nose with a large white handkerchief, and Aunt Ellen taking his arm and patting it.
Uncle Arthur, on the other hand, who had made the journey from York, was quite composed; he had a glass of wine in his hand and was chatting to someone about financial shares, and which were the best to buy, while his wife sat nearby, sipping tea. Gilbert was busying himself playing host, and James thought that the role suited him well. They had barely had the chance to do more than greet each other, and he guessed that Gilbert was embarrassed over the wedding lapse. Harriet was sitting in a corner talking to someone and James decided that the nicest thing about Gilbert was Harriet. But he needed to talk to Gilbert about financial arrangements their father might have made; he had very little money, the fifty pounds sent to him was almost gone. His father’s lawyer had been at the service and he assumed that his father’s will would be read shortly.