For The Sake of Her Family (17 page)

Alice stirred, gently calling his name: ‘Will? Where are you? What day is it?’ With her wet, matted hair and dark-rimmed eyes, she looked more dead than alive.

‘Quiet now, our lass. You’re all right. Mind, I thought I’d lost you for a while there.’ He hugged her tight in his arms as she struggled to raise herself from the bed,
face cringing with pain as she tried to prop herself up.

‘I’m sorry, Will, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know. I’m so cold . . . I’ve been to a dark place in my dreams. I saw Mum and she told me to go back,
that it was not my time yet. Will, I’m frightened. Did I die? If I did, I should be in the fires of hell for what I’ve done.’ Alice grabbed her tearful brother’s arm,
pleading with him for answers. He stroked her damp hair and held her tight, helping her lie down again.

‘Never you mind, Ali. What’s done is done. Let’s get you better, eh? Go to sleep now. Tomorrow’s Christmas Day and we’re together; that’s all that
matters.’

He pulled the covers over her and waited until she had dozed off before getting up to add another log to the fire. Then he crept downstairs to prepare the chicken he had killed for Christmas
Day. He had hoped that he would be celebrating Christmas in style this year, his first in his new home. But that would have to wait. Family mattered more, and Alice needed him; there would always
be other Christmases.

‘I could have done with that Alice. Trust it to snow and block her off from her work.’ It was lunchtime at the manor, there were sauces and stuffings to be
prepared, not to mention the huge goose to cook, and Mrs Dowbiggin was on her own. ‘Stop standing like a useless lummock and help me set the table.’ She was getting in a flap and poor
Faulks was catching it. Though she couldn’t speak of it to anyone, she was also worrying whether Alice was alive. Mrs Batty had told her the operation had been hard on the girl. ‘Oh!
Get out of the way. I can do better myself. Men – absolutely useless, no good for anything.’

Pushing the butler out of the way, she polished the cutlery on her apron, then arranged it to her satisfaction on the table. ‘See, that’s how you do it. There’s no secret to
it, is there?’

Faulks bit his tongue. It was no secret that Mrs Dowbiggin’s husband had run off with a neighbour, but Faulks thought better of telling her he could understand why the man had done it.
After all, it was Christmas.

The job done, Mrs Dowbiggin stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘I do love a well-set table.’ She was never one to miss an opportunity to sing her own praises. ‘Oh my Lord!
Is that my soup?’ She rushed out of the dining room as the smell of something burning assaulted her nose.

‘Nice job, Faulks, very impressive.’ Gerald Frankland strolled into the dining room and admired the Christmas table.

‘Thank you, sir. It was nothing.’ The butler smiled inwardly to himself at getting the praise that should have been Mrs Dowbiggin’s. ‘Would sir like an aperitif? And will
Miss Nancy be joining you?’

‘Damn, I think I will – just a small brandy. After all, it is Christmas. Nancy will be along shortly. Smells like Mrs Dowbiggin is going to surprise us with something exotic for
lunch. Is Alice helping her today?’

‘I believe not, sir. The snow has prevented her getting to work.’ Faulks poured a brandy from the sparkling cut-glass decanter and passed it to his master.

‘Pretty girl, don’t you think, Faulks? I believe Jack has his eye on her. I’d say she was a bit too spirited for him. What do you think, Faulks?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think it’s my place to say.’ Faulks bowed, then asked, ‘Will that be all, sir?’ Gerald Frankland’s remarks made him
uncomfortable and he wanted to escape, even if it meant returning to the hostile kitchen.

‘Tell Mrs Dowbiggin that we will be eating at one. And this evening I may have some friends joining us, weather permitting. I’m sure she will conjure something up to delight my
guests, even though there is no Alice to help her.’ Frankland smiled. Leaning against the huge fireplace, glass in hand, he watched as the mealy-mouthed butler departed for the kitchen.

‘Have you been tormenting our butler? I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You are wicked, Gerald. No wonder you have such a terrible reputation!’ Nancy entered the
room and beckoned for her brother to pour her wine. Her maroon satin dress rustled as she sat in a chair in the window alcove overlooking the garden. ‘You do realize the locals think this is
a brothel? Alice told me so; she was quite embarrassed when I asked her what the locals thought of us.’ She stared at her brother, smiling at his surprised expression.

‘Me? I’m nothing but a gentleman! Can I be blamed if Faulks and Mrs Dowbiggin believe every word I say? I swear I laughed myself sick when Mrs Dowbiggin fell for my story about Mrs
Batty – that old woman is the nearest thing to a witch that I’ve come across. I wouldn’t take my dog to her, never mind a young woman in trouble. If they believe that,
they’ll believe anything.’ He tilted his glass, savouring the last drop of brandy.

‘One day, Gerald Frankland, you will get yourself in trouble with that sense of humour. You know all too well they believe every word you say and still you tell them tales.’

‘My dear, let them believe what they will. No good comes to those who listen behind doors. Besides, they should know better.’ He helped himself to another brandy and sat down next to
his sister. Outside, a blanket of snow covered the grounds and turned the trees to sparkling white sculptures. ‘A white wonderland on Christmas Day. Mind you, it’s a bit of a hindrance.
I don’t think our friends will be joining us, so it will probably just be me and you tonight. There was some doubt as to whether they could make it even without the snow. The situation in
Russia is taking a turn for the worse; Tatiana wrote to me the other day to say that the Tsar is not in touch with his people. Many are dying of hunger and there have been protests on the streets
of Moscow.’

Gerald gazed out at the falling snow, remembering Moscow and his beautiful Tatiana. In his mind’s eye he pictured the way she’d looked the first time he set eyes on her, when she was
helping out in the hospital where Nancy had been treated. It was then he had fallen madly in love with his dark-eyed Russian, not knowing that she was a best friend to the daughters of the Tsar.
Why couldn’t he have loved a normal girl instead of one linked to the royal family of Russia?

‘Gerald, you’ve given me an idea.’ Nancy grabbed her brother’s hand. ‘You’ve got good contacts in Russia; Will’s struggling up at Stone House. How about
you sell one of your fireplaces to the Tsar? Now that would be something to talk about and it would get us noticed in this godforsaken place. Imagine the respect those loutish workers would give
Will then!’

‘Have you listened to a word I’ve said, Nancy, my dear? Your head is so full of Will Bentham, you’ve no thought for my worries. And may I point out his absence this Christmas
Day? Snow or no snow, I’d have thought that he’d at least have made the effort to see his employer and his beloved sister today.’ He finished his second glass of brandy, swilling
the last few dregs round the bowl of the glass before pouring himself another.

‘Look at the weather – would you go out in this? Let him have one day away from work, Gerald. Will’s tried really hard this last six months. He is turning things around for you
at Stone House, you know he is.’ Nancy offered her glass for a refill and smiled at her brother.

‘You are sweet on him, aren’t you, my dear. He’s only a country bumpkin, you know. Can you imagine what Mama and Papa would have said if they’d caught their special girl
going with a farmer’s son? Easy with the wine, old girl. We don’t want you tiddly before lunch – what would Mrs Dowbiggin say?’ He gave her a wink then half filled her glass
and handed it back to her.

‘No wonder women are demanding the vote, Gerald Frankland. Any more comments like that and I’ve a good mind to join the suffragette movement. I’ll drink as much as I like.
Getting back to Will, I am sweet on him, it’s true. He’s good company, he treats me kindly, and he’s not bothered by these terrible scars on my face. We are close.’ Nancy
blushed and took a deep drink.

Gerald shot her a dark look. ‘Oh, don’t be so stupid! He’s not in our class. A common labourer is not fit for the likes of you. Besides, he’s the first man you have
really known. However, I will see what I can do regarding the Tsar. That’s a good idea of yours – it would be quite something to have the Romanov seal of approval on our marble.
I’ll suggest it to Tatiana. You never know, it might get us both what we want.’ He raised his glass. ‘Cheers, old girl. Here’s to love and prosperity: long may we have both.
But keep away from common menfolk, eh?’

Alice tenderly propped herself up on the edge of the bed. Her legs felt like jelly and she couldn’t stop shivering as if someone had just walked over her grave.

‘There, our lass, slip your arm in here.’ Gently Will helped dress his sister and then gave her his arm to lean on, helping her to the warm fireside. ‘Not so fast. You’re
not ready to run the Derby yet,’ he cautioned, putting his arm around her thin waist to steady her. ‘We’re going to have to fatten you up, our lass. There’s nothing on
you!’

Having gently seated her in the fireside chair, he threw another log on the fire and wrapped their mother’s quilt around her to make sure that she was warm enough, before putting the
kettle on to boil.

‘Well, this is a queer Christmas Day compared to the ones we used to have. With last year’s and this one, I’m beginning to doubt it will ever be the same. Remember how Father
used to get merry on Mother’s sloe gin? By this time, she’d have been playing pop with him for hindering dinner and then, nine times out of ten, he’d hug her and give her a kiss
and she’d pretend to be mad with him, but really she was loving every minute. Can you remember, our Alice?’

Alice nodded wearily, feeling sad about times past. ‘I’m sorry, Will, you’d probably have been at the manor now, or up at Jack’s having dinner with them. And instead
you’re stuck with me. If I was you, I’d disown me – I’ve been nothing more than a prostitute, and now I’ve killed an innocent baby.’

‘Quiet, our lass. No doubt you had your reasons. I’m not going to ask who the father is, because I’d only want to go and bloody shoot him, so it’s best I don’t
know. Just promise me it isn’t Jack’s – although I know he’s too much the gentleman for that. He’d have married you if he’d have known you were in the family
way. Anyways, as long as you recover and we still have one another, that’s all that matters. Because, by God, we’ve been through enough this year.’ He picked up the singing kettle
and filled the teapot, stirring it thoughtfully.

Alice wrapped the quilt tightly around her. ‘It wasn’t Jack’s. And you’re right: it’s best you don’t know whose it was, because it would only cause trouble.
Don’t worry, Will, I feel weak, but I’ve learned my lesson. Next year I intend to start fending for myself – 1914 is going to be our year, the year when we both prove to each
other that we are strong.’

‘That’s right, Ali – come back fighting! Here, have a sup of your tea and I’ll see to dinner. Mother must be laughing her head off up in heaven at my attempt to cook, but
I’m determined to have a Christmas dinner of some kind. I’ve peeled the sprouts and tatties, and the chicken’s in the side oven – it may be a bit late, but we’ll eat
sometime today.’

‘You’re doing grand. Thanks for taking care of me, Will; I’m so grateful. There’s many would have turned their backs on me.’ Alice hung her head, gripped by
self-loathing.

‘Give over, Sis. Now, get your tea drunk and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Listen, I think I can hear the men up at the quarry huts singing – it must be bloody Christmas after
all!’

The faint sound of carols filtered into the little cottage, bringing hope and Christmas spirit to the exhausted pair. The roasting chicken and the warmth of the fire set Alice dozing while Will
listened to the melodies of his workforce. He didn’t know what the next year would bring, but surely it couldn’t be as bad as the last one. He prayed for it not to be.

‘So, Alice, you’ve made it back to us.’ Gerald Frankland contemplated the gaunt, ashen young girl. ‘You look ill, Alice. Are you feeling all right? Mrs
Dowbiggin informs me that you have had the flu. I hope that you have recovered sufficiently?’ He turned and gazed out of the library window.

‘I’m recovering slowly, sir, but I’m fit for work. Besides, I wouldn’t want to let Miss Nancy down, especially for tonight’s New Year Ball.’ Alice quickly
finished tidying the hearth and turned to make her escape from his questioning eyes.

‘Surely you are joining us tonight, Alice? Nancy has been insisting that you must. She would really enjoy your company and I’m sure she has a spare dress you could wear. God knows
I’ve bought her enough dresses, so there’s bound to be something suitable, not that I know much about these frivolous things. What do you say, eh? A few dance steps might put a bit of
colour in those pale cheeks.’

‘I don’t think so, sir. I’d feel out of place.’ Alice’s heart fluttered. She had long dreamed of the moment when she would be asked to the manor’s New Year
Ball, but she still felt a little unsteady and faint.

‘Nonsense! Your Will’s invited, so you can keep him company. I’ll speak to my sister, see if she can find you something to fit. I’m sure you will enjoy yourself.
It’ll be nice to see some sparkle in those blue eyes again.’

Gerald Frankland turned from the window to watch as Alice left the room, her cheeks flushed from his last comment. She didn’t seem at all well and he wanted to show his concern. Moreover
he knew his sister would feel more relaxed with her protégé by her side.

Alice closed the door behind her and leaned against it, brush and pan full of swept embers in her hands. Could she really summon the strength to attend the ball? The mind was willing, but her
body felt so weak . . . Yes, she resolved. No matter how poorly she felt, it had to be done.

‘Oh! Alice, you look absolutely beautiful! That shade of blue really suits you; it brings out the colour of your eyes. Here, let me tie the bow tighter to show your waist
off.’ Nancy studied her companion. ‘A bit of rouge on those pale cheeks and then you’ll be perfect.’ Alice peered at her reflection, gasping at the sight of herself. The
long sky-blue satin dress made her appear tall and slender, while her blonde hair – pinned up with the dragonfly comb that had been her birthday gift – gave her extra height. She almost
didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. A fortnight ago, she had been near death and now here she was, attending the dale’s largest social event. She smoothed the dress over her
thighs and turned sideways to admire the perfectly formed figure. Secretly she couldn’t help but be astounded: what had happened to the ugly duckling that she had once been?