‘Yes.’ Billy leant back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘We have. Me!’
Charles Craddock pulled off his shoes and threw them into a corner and flopped down into a chair. ‘Get me a brandy, I’m spent.’
Betsy was about to tell him to get his own, but there was some ill humour in his eyes that made her change her mind, so she crossed the room to a side table and poured him a large measure from the decanter. ‘You’ve been away ages, Charles. I’ve been so bored,’ she said petulantly. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Don’t start that again,’ he growled, taking the glass from her. ‘I’ve told you before to mind your own business.’ He pulled her down onto his knee. ‘Just keep that pretty nose out of it. God, Betsy, but you’re getting heavy.’ He pushed her out of the chair. ‘You’re eating too many chocolates.’
‘Well, there’s nothing else to do when you’re not here. I might just as well be back at home as sit here alone.’
‘Well go, then,’ he said carelessly and drained his glass in one swallow. ‘See if your father and brothers will welcome you back after being some man’s whore.’
She drew in a sharp breath. He couldn’t mean what he said? Surely he didn’t want her to go? A doubt crept in; he had been spending more time away from home of late, and when she had questioned him he always said he was going to see his mother. But he often arrived back during the early hours of a morning smelling of spirits, and she was sure that he had been gambling, for there was often a wad of money in his pocket; but he hadn’t asked her to accompany him recently.
‘Charles? You don’t mean that? You are teasing me?’ She tickled his ear with her fingertips.
‘Mean what?’ he said, catching hold of her hand.
‘Being a –
whore
, that’s not a nice thing to say about me!’ She stroked his face. ‘I mean more to you than that, don’t I?’
He caught her other hand and held her fast, and then yawned. ‘God, I’m tired.’ He let go of her hands. ‘Get me another brandy and then I’m going to bed for an hour.’
‘You haven’t answered my question, Charles,’ she persisted.
He sighed. ‘Which question? For God’s sake, woman!’
‘You said I was a whore!’ She whispered the words. She was beginning to be afraid.
‘Yes! And? That’s what you are, isn’t it?’ He folded his arms and scrutinized her. ‘How else would you describe yourself? You live here with a man who feeds you, gives you money, tumbles you in bed. Is there another word?’
‘I, I thought that I meant more to you than that,’ she stammered. ‘You seemed to care for me.’
‘So I do, little dumpling.’ He put out his hand to draw her near. ‘I think you are delightful, but don’t start questioning me about where I have been or what I have been doing; just keep on pleasing me the way that you do, and everything will be fine.’
‘But won’t there be more than just that?’ Still she questioned. ‘Don’t you want more from me than just to tumble me in bed?’
He laughed. ‘You’ll be saying next that you expect me to marry you!’
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think I expected that, not yet anyway. But I didn’t expect to have to stay in the house while you went out. We had such fun to begin with, horse racing and the clubs and parties. Now you don’t take me any more.’
‘Oh, I got bored with all that,’ he said lazily. ‘And
anyway, there’s hardly anyone around at the moment with this business at Willard’s bank. No-one dares gamble for fear of losing their precious businesses.’ He put his hand beneath his chin and speculated thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t mind taking a wager with your cousin Gilbert at the moment,’ he sneered. ‘I’d like to bet his failing company against a deck of cards.’
‘Gilbert’s company?’ She was shocked. ‘Masterson and Rayner, you mean?’
‘Yes.’ He guffawed. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Your precious Gilbert married a swindler’s daughter, who, when he was found out in his thieving enterprises, shot himself through the head. They say his brains were splattered all over the walls!’
Betsy was sickened, she felt tears come to her eyes. Poor Harriet. She was such a gentle creature; to have her father do such a thing must have devastated her! She started to weep as she thought of her own crippled father; and here she was, living a life of debauchery. Yes. That’s what it was. And it was true what Craddock said about her. She was a whore!
‘Come here,’ Craddock said invitingly, stretching out his arms and reaching for her. ‘I like it when you cry; you seem so defenceless and vulnerable – so innocent, and yet I know very well that you are not.’
She rose early the next morning and stood by the window looking out.
What a fool I am
, she thought.
What can I do?
She pushed to the back of her mind the reasons for not going home and concentrated on the present, rather than the future.
I’ll have to be nice to Charles, so that he will want me to stay
.
‘Betsy!’ Craddock’s voice came from the depths of the bed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just looking out at the day,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s a beautiful morning, sharp but sunny. What shall we do? Would you like to go out or,’ smiling she came towards the bed, ‘would you prefer to stay in bed?’
He raised himself onto one elbow. He wasn’t
smiling, he had a most disagreeable scowl on his face.
‘Who’s a cross-patch in a morning?’ she teased as she turned back the covers.
‘Go back to the window!’ he demanded. ‘Go on, stand where you were before.’
Inwardly she cursed him as she returned to her place by the window. She ached from the night’s activities and his insatiable appetite. The light was strong and her bedgown transparent, they wouldn’t be going out again this morning.
‘You bitch! You whore!’
She put her hands to her face. ‘What? What is it? What have I done?’ The venomous expression etched on his face frightened her. He looked at her as if he could kill her.
‘You tricked me!’ He shot out of bed and grabbed her. ‘Or tried to,’ he hissed. ‘But it won’t work, my beauty, not on me!’
‘I don’t know what you mean! Charles, you’re hurting me!’ Tears came to her eyes.
‘Oh, don’t start that. It won’t work this time. You bitch!’
She tried to step back, away from his gripping hands and violent expression.
‘You thought to trick me! Thought to claim the bastard was mine! Well, I know that it isn’t. So you can clear out. Get your things and go. Why I didn’t notice before, I don’t know!’
She shook him off and involuntarily clutched her midriff. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she whispered. ‘Why should I trick you?’
‘That’s it,’ he spat. ‘Mother’s instinct – protect the child.’ He gave an assumed punch towards her and she flinched.
‘You’re mistaken,’ she panicked. ‘I’ve put on weight. You said you liked me this way.’
‘You’re pregnant!’ He pushed his face into hers. ‘You’re pregnant, and it’s not mine! I can’t sire children, thank God, for if I could I’d have half the
women in the town claiming I’d filled their bellies.’
‘No. No. I’m not. I’m not!’ Her voice didn’t seem to belong to her as she disclaimed the issue that had confronted her so often, and which she had rejected. ‘I can’t be! It’s not true.’
He put his head back and laughed. ‘Not true! Just look at you.’ He forced her over to the mirror and gathered her bedgown close to her body. ‘Turn sideways. That’s not chocolate! What a joke!’ He let go of her and rolled onto the bed and laughed to split his sides. ‘Chocolate!’ he gasped. ‘Chocolate!’ He suddenly stopped laughing and sat up. ‘Now get dressed and clear off!’ he snapped. ‘I want no pregnant women or bastards here. Whatever would my wife say?’
‘Your wife?’ she stammered. ‘You have a wife?’
‘Of course I have a wife!’ he barked. ‘How else could I afford to live the way I do?’
She stared at him for a moment, then without a word she turned and opened the wardrobe door and took down a gown.
‘Not that one,’ he said brusquely, putting on a dressing robe and going towards the bedroom door. ‘The one you came in. You take nothing that I bought you.’
She didn’t answer, but put back the gown and took down her yellow one, which in comparison to the others hanging beside it, now looked very shabby. It was also too tight.
I’ve put on weight, that’s all
, she deliberated as she strove to fasten it over the whalebone cage.
He doesn’t know what he’s talking about
. She stifled a sob.
It’s not true. It isn’t
.
She couldn’t fasten the bodice and she took a silk scarf and pushed it into the neckline, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it was one of his gifts, then she looked around the room to see if there was anything else of hers. Only her shawl and empty purse, nothing more; but on the chair were his jacket and trousers where he had carelessly thrown them.
She tiptoed across and slipped her hand inside the jacket pocket. Inside she felt a wad of crisp notes and in the trousers some coins. She withdrew two notes and stuffed them inside her bodice and hastily gathered a few coins which she put in her purse.
‘Will you let me take the cloak?’ she asked, holding it up in one hand as she went into the drawing-room. ‘It’s too cold for only a shawl.’
He was draped over a chair, one leg over the arm, and reading a newspaper. ‘And you’re hardly decent anyway.’ He grinned lewdly at her. ‘Your gown is too tight. Yes, take it.’ He flipped over a page of newspaper. ‘I shall take the gowns back to the shop. I’ll tell them that I am not pleased with the purchase, that they are quite unsuitable.’
‘I can’t believe that you are doing this to me, Charles,’ she said, in one last attempt to placate him. ‘Why have you turned against me so?’
‘Quite frankly I’m just tired of you, my dear.’ He threw the newspaper onto the floor and stretched his arms. ‘Apart from you being in the
family way
, as they say, and had I cared to we could have done something about that, you have long outlasted your time.’ He smiled patronizingly. ‘It’s time for us to move along.’
‘So you are turning me out! Well, in that case,’ she grew bold, ‘as I have been nothing more than a whore to you, perhaps I should have payment! I am leaving with less than I came with. I had my self-respect when I met you, now I have lost even that. You can at least pay me for my services, if I can’t have the clothes.’
‘Hah! The cheek of the bitch. I’ve fed you and kept you. Why should I give you money?’
‘Because if you don’t I shall find out where your wife lives and make sure that she knows what you are up to in this fine house. This
whorehouse
.’ She stared at him defiantly. She had nothing more to lose.
His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. ‘I’ve been threatened before,’ he scoffed. ‘But they’ve always changed their minds.’
‘I shan’t,’ she challenged. ‘And what’s more I should take my cousins Gilbert and Billy with me to substantiate my claim that I have been living here; they are gentlemen and would be believed. And,’ she glared at him, ‘I shall send my brothers to you.’
He swallowed and she saw a tensing of his chin.
He is at best a lily-livered coward
, she thought.
Is he more afraid of his wife than he is of a beating?
He got to his feet, and in a vain attempt to shame her, he sneered, ‘Very well. I’ll give you what I think you were worth,’ and went out of the room.
She held back her tears, indeed anger was at the forefront of her emotions, and held out her hand for the money he had in his hand when he came back into the room. He counted it out, then counted it again, and she held her breath for fear that he would realize that some of it was missing.
‘Take it.’ He almost threw it at her. ‘Now go, and if I hear one whisper of trouble from you, it will be the worse for you.’ His words were empty, he now just wanted rid of her.
‘I’m going.’ She put her chin up. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t see me again.’
She stepped out of the front door and banging it so hard behind her that the panes rattled in the windows, she turned towards the town and walked away.
Autumn had drawn to a close and winter was already tightening its grip on the land. The earth was wet and soggy with the heavy deluge of rain which turned the roads to Holderness into a quagmire, and then hardened into solid ridges which cracked axles and turned carts and carriages over after the biting north east wind dried the surface.
Sammi spent as much time as possible at Tillington, riding over on the back of Boreas and not risking taking the trap. She had told Mrs Bishop that a home had been found for Adam, and the woman had said that she was glad for his sake.
‘And for thine, Miss Rayner,’ she added, for she had disapproved of Sammi taking him out with her, saying quite bluntly that she was encouraging the rumours which were still circulating. ‘Tha’ll have some bairns of thine own one day, miss,’ she commented. ‘When tha finds some rich young gentleman that thy parents approve of.’
But some rich young gentleman would want to take me away from all those I care about
, Sammi mused, ignoring the twitch of window curtains as she trotted through the village towards the mill house.
I want to stay near to Mama and Pa and Victoria, and
–
everyone
.
If only Adam could stay within the family; if only Gilbert was honest, if only we didn’t have to keep his secret
.
Although she had said that she didn’t care what people thought of her, she was conscious of covert glances and whispers behind covered mouths as she
came into the village, and she was becoming tense and nervous.
She was apprehensive, too, over Uncle Thomas. He was quite often ill, brought on by worry over Betsy’s disappearance, and troubled that Mark had not been in touch with them either, so she spent time with him trying to cheer him when she felt little cheer within herself. The letters from Betsy had stopped coming, and Tom had not found any trace of her, though he had been several times into Hull. Luke Reedbarrow had also searched, but both men were hampered by their lack of knowledge of the town. Gilbert and Billy were both looking out for her, Tom had notified the authorities, and posters for a missing person had been pasted up in the streets of Hull.