She placed her hand on his arm to stay him. ‘Not tonight, William, it’s late. Wait until tomorrow. Don’t go when you’re feeling angry. You’ll say something that you’ll be sorry for. You know how Mildred always irritates you. Have supper and we’ll talk about it, and then – and then, in the morning, perhaps I could go instead?’
He looked down at her. ‘You’re trying to twist me around your finger, Ellen. And as for you, young woman,’ he turned to Sammi and shook a finger at her, ‘this time you have gone too far. No. I mean it. Don’t smile at me like that, you’re as bad as your mother. We cannot keep this child. We have problems enough of our own, without taking on other people’s, even if they are family. Like it or not, he has to go back.’
Ellen dropped Sammi off at the mill house the next morning as she had requested, and told her that she would collect her later in the day when she returned from her visit to Mildred.
That lady isn’t going to be pleased to see me without an arrangement
, she thought grimly as the carriage rocked along the Hull road. She and Mildred had very little in common, save that they had married two brothers.
Poor Isaac
, she mused.
We all thought that Mildred would be good for him; she seemed loving and kind, and he needed
someone strong to give him a push. But we didn’t realize what a tartar she would turn out to be
.
She wasn’t looking forward to this confrontation.
For no doubt, that is what it will be
, she pondered.
And the whole atmosphere in that house makes me feel creepy
.
Being a farmer’s daughter brought up on the Wolds, and marrying William who farmed on the plain of Holderness at the edge of the sea, she was used to open spaces and an abundance of brisk fresh air, and Garston Hall, which had been her well-loved home for nearly twenty-five years, since William’s parents had welcomed her as a young bride, with its spacious rooms and muslin drapes enhancing rather than obscuring the view of the garden and cliffs below, suited her very well.
Mildred was a banker’s daughter who had been brought up in a town house. She had an aversion to draughts, and kept her windows draped with nets and laces and heavy hangings to keep them out, but excluding also any natural light, so that the rooms were gloomy and dark even during the day.
It was noon before Ellen left the suburbs of Hull and the horses began their swift trot towards Anlaby. Such a pretty village. She echoed unconsciously Sammi’s thoughts from the previous day as they passed the grand mansions and large country houses which had been built, some on the common land where once sheep had grazed.
But she sighed and a sadness descended on her as she observed the progress and development of the land, here to the sheltered west of Hull. Not a sadness such as Sammi had experienced in her concern for the child, nor even for Victoria, her youngest daughter who was so frail, and certainly not for her merry son, Billy; but for her husband William. For William and her eldest son Richard, who were losing their livelihood, day by day, week by week, as the sea took its toll on the land which they all loved.
‘Please be seated, Ellen, and I’ll ring for refreshment. You are very fortunate to find me at home. I was expected at Mrs Beadle’s of Hessle this afternoon, but she has just this half hour ago sent a message to say that she is unwell and cannot receive me.’ Mildred fussed and prattled, plumping up cushions, straightening the numerous pictures on the walls, rearranging the bric-a-brac and ornaments which decorated the tables and what-not, and moving infinitesimally the glass dome which held an arrangement of waxed flowers to the exact centre of the table.
Ellen waited patiently. Mildred always went through this ritual whenever she called, even when she was expected. ‘Well, Mildred,’ she said, as her sister-in-law finally ceased her flutterings and sat down opposite her, ‘you have no doubt been expecting me?’
‘Why no!’ A pale flush suffused Mildred’s thin neck above her narrow white collar. Her hair, coiled in a low chignon, was covered by a crocheted net, and she patted it nervously. ‘As I just said, I was expected at …’ Her voice trailed away as Ellen looked directly into her eyes.
‘But you knew I would be coming sooner or later?’ Ellen persisted. ‘Surely, neither you nor Isaac expected William or me to accept the situation as it stands?’
‘I really don’t know what you are talking about, Ellen.’ Mildred’s round and once-pretty face shuttered, and she primped her lips firmly.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mildred.’ Ellen spoke impatiently. ‘Of course you know what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend. I’m referring to James and his child, the child that Sammi has brought home to us because you refuse to acknowledge it.’
‘The woman was lying!’ Mildred’s voice became shrill and she rose to her feet. ‘It has nothing whatever to do with us. We are a respectable family. The very idea is totally abhorrent.’
‘Then why are you sending James away?’ Ellen
spoke more quietly, she wanted this matter settling as quickly as possible and she had obviously touched a raw nerve with Mildred’s sensibilities. ‘Why can’t he stay, find the woman and give the child back? Explain – if there really has been a mistake?’
‘James is going away to avoid embarrassment, and I don’t wish to discuss it any further. As far as I am concerned the incident is closed.’ Mildred sat down again breathing heavily, the ruches on her bodice rising and falling rhythmically.
‘The incident! The incident!’ This time Ellen rose from her chair, her passions aroused. ‘You can’t call a child an incident! You can call what leads up to its conception an incident if that is how you see it, but we are talking about a human life.’
Mildred got to her feet once more and the two women faced each other, both their faces were flushed, their hands clenched. ‘How dare you speak so!’ Mildred’s voice was low and scathing. ‘I never thought to hear such things in my own home, especially from someone who is kin.’ She put her hand to her chest and breathed heavily. ‘Thank goodness Isaac isn’t here to witness this, or my daughter.’
‘A child who is reputed to be
your
grandson is at present under
my
daughter’s care and protection, and you worry over how Anne would feel?’ Ellen fastened her cloak and prepared to leave. ‘I just don’t understand you, Mildred. Where is your compassion? Would you leave it to a young and inexperienced girl to accept what should be your responsibility?’
Mildred’s face drained of colour and she seemed to be fighting for self-control. ‘I will say once more, and only once, this has nothing to do with us.’ She took a deep breath. ‘If Sarah Maria wishes to indulge herself over a child, then she should marry and have some of her own instead of collecting others’ waifs and strays. Good day to you, Ellen. You must excuse me, I have a busy afternoon ahead of me.’
Ellen didn’t answer. She picked up her reticule and whirled out of the door, the feathers on her small hat bobbing and bouncing, and it wasn’t until she was back in her carriage and heading back down the drive, her mouth clenched in anger and her eyes filled with tears of fury, did she realize that, although Mildred had offered her refreshment, she hadn’t actually given her any, and she faced the long drive home without the prospect of food or drink.
I shall visit the company
, she decided.
I will speak to Isaac, he surely will come to some arrangement; and if he is not there, then at least I shall see Billy and he will give me tea
.
Their younger son, Billy, had joined Masterson and Rayner as a very junior clerk who would learn the company business from the bottom up, and in time, if he proved adaptable, would become a director. William, Isaac and their brother Arthur had shares in the company, with Isaac in control as managing director, for he was seen to be the one with the most interest and expertise in the whaling industry.
William wanted only to continue farming at Garston Hall as he had always done, whilst Arthur, whose business was the railways, lived with his wife and three daughters in York, the northern base of railway operations. He had seen the fall from grace of the great George Hudson and assumed a complacent satisfaction, which he never failed to talk about, at his business acumen in having moved his shares from the Railway King’s company at just the right time.
Johnson negotiated the clumsy old carriage through the busy High Street, and Ellen looked up at the name above the company building: Masterson and Rayner. A name well thought of in the shipping industry.
And the name of Foster is still perpetuated
, she thought as the carriage pulled into the yard. Sarah Foster, her mother-in-law, who had married John Rayner, had been proud of her background, telling
in her gentle manner to anyone who was interested, that she was the first Foster to be born in Monkston and that her father Will, who had been an ordinary whaling seaman from Hull, was the bravest man who had ever lived. And in his memory, as well as Sarah’s, the Foster name was continued through their children and grandchildren.
‘Mr Rayner is not in the office at present, ma-am,’ said the clerk who greeted her. ‘Perhaps I can assist you? Or young Mr Rayner is here – Mr Gilbert.’
She stared at him for a moment and then blinked. ‘Oh, er, no. Perhaps I could see my son for a moment – Mr Billy Rayner? I won’t keep him long.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Rayner, I didn’t recognize you.’
‘No reason why you should.’ She smiled faintly at the embarrassed clerk, and pressed her fingers to her temple; she was starting a headache and his words had triggered a train of thought which was muddling through her mind.
‘Hello, Ma! What brings you here?’ Billy kissed her warmly on both cheeks. ‘Come upstairs into Uncle Isaac’s office, he won’t mind. He’s out at a meeting somewhere, but he’ll be back soon.’
‘Will you be home this weekend, Billy?’ He didn’t come home every weekend and she missed his exuberant chatter.
‘Perhaps not. One of the fellows here has asked me if I want to join him and a party to visit the theatre, and afterwards there’s a glee.’
She surveyed him anxiously. He was very handsome, everyone said so, it wasn’t just a mother’s pride. At nineteen he was tall, slim and willowy as a reed, and with a shock of hair as fair as hers, unlike his siblings who all had a tendency towards shades of red. She was understandably anxious: living in Hull, he was no longer under her influence. He was bound to be attractive to women, she thought affectionately, and vulnerable too – look what happened to James!
‘A glee?’
‘Yes. You know, music and singing and such.’ He smiled down at her teasingly.
‘Yes, I know what a glee is, Billy, but you won’t take strong drink, will you? Just drink a little wine, it’s safer.’
He pulled out a leather chair for her to be seated. ‘All right,’ he said, amused. ‘I will. Don’t worry. Let me send for some tea for you, you look tired.’ He opened the door and called out to someone below.
She looked around the room, she hadn’t been in it for a long time. The large desk which her late father-in-law, John Rayner, had once used, was still set near to the window with a view onto the river below; a wooden filing cabinet on the opposite wall held private papers. Two embroidered texts sat side by side on the window wall, which she guessed were Mildred’s work, and opposite the desk were two portraits, one of John Rayner as a child and another as he had been in his capacity as chairman of the board of directors. Between the two was a smaller picture set in an oval gilt frame. It showed an older man, his wrinkled hands clasping a cane, this was Isaac Masterson, uncle of John Rayner and founder of the company.
‘Will you excuse me for a moment, Ma? I must just see Hardwick about the accounts I’m working on. They’re bringing you some tea.’
‘I don’t want to keep you from your work, Billy. Tea would be lovely. Off you go, I’ll rest for a while and, if Isaac hasn’t returned, I’ll go home. You know how your father worries if I’m late.’
‘You didn’t say why you were here.’ Billy paused with his hand on the door. ‘Shopping, I expect?’ He gave her a quick merry smile as she nodded her head in response.
No point in discussing the issue of the child with him yet, not until it was resolved. He obviously hadn’t heard or he would have mentioned it. There were no
secrets between this branch of the Rayner family. Open discussions were always the order.
Mildred would be most uncomfortable to listen in to our conversations. A respectable family!
She mused over Mildred’s statement.
She will think that we are morally decadent and quite irresponsible, bringing up our children to see animals being born, to know about babies and how they are conceived. And
her
children were not allowed to play games as ours were! They were shut up in the nursery with their nurses or taken for decorous walks in their fashionable little suits and gowns. They never knew what dirt was!
Such ignorance. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, and meditated; yet it was one of Mildred’s own sons who had committed the unpardonable sin of bedding some poor girl and had given her a child!
The door opened and she opened her eyes, expecting the maid with the tea.
‘Aunt Ellen!’ Gilbert’s face flushed, he’d pushed open the door into his father’s office, totally oblivious of her presence. ‘I, er, how nice to see you!’ He stammered out a greeting and dropped the papers he was carrying.
‘Hello, Gilbert. I’ve been to see your mother, and thought as I was passing through Hull, I would call in to see your father.’
‘My father?’ He rubbed his chin nervously.
Strange
, she thought as she watched him.
He is the one who appears so debonair, such a sport, such a very merry young gentleman, yet here he is acting like a schoolboy
.
The maid brought in the tea and Ellen drank it gratefully. ‘I didn’t see James while I was at Anlaby; I was hoping to,’ she added.
Gilbert shuffled amongst the pile of papers which he had retrieved from the floor and heaped onto the desk. ‘He – er, left me a note to say he has gone to York.’