For The Sake of Her Family (9 page)

‘While the cat’s away, the mice will play – surely you should know that?’ Uriah winked at her again and nodded at Mr Todd’s empty teapot.

Annie gasped. ‘Uriah Woodhead! Is that what you think? Well, let me tell you, there will be no playing around when I’m here – or away – so you can think on.’ Annie
slammed her tea towel on the counter. ‘You go and fill his teapot, Uriah – I bet he won’t feel your bottom, dirty old devil!’

Still fuming, she watched as her husband went to ask the offending customer if he needed more tea. ‘That’ll teach him to make light of men’s advances. You can’t trust any
man, lass, no matter how honourable they might seem. I feel I owe you that advice, seeing your mother’s not alive, bless her soul.’

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Woodhead. Old Todd’s ’armless enough. I reckon he just fancies his chances, but he’s playing the wrong game with me – I’m waiting for
Mr Right. He must be tall, good-looking and, above all, wealthy, because I never want to be poor again.’

‘Aye, lass, we have all wanted one of them in our time. Trouble is, you get what you’re given or what your heart determines. Take me and Uriah – his mother and mine fixed us
two up. They knew that I could cook and that he’d inherit the Moon one day, so we were lined up for one another as soon as we left school. Never mind love and looks; they didn’t enter
into it. But after a while you come to feel a bit of something about one another.’ Seeing her young helper gazing out into the yard as she wiped the pots, obviously lost in daydreams about Mr
Right, Annie laughed. ‘Have you been out with a lad yet, Alice?’

Alice shook her head.

‘That young Jack Alderson always looks so sweet on you – I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you out.’

‘Jack? Jack Alderson? Oh! The thought of it!’ Alice turned her nose up in disgust. ‘Him and our Will are best friends – they’d talk about me. Besides, he
hasn’t any money.’

‘Money isn’t everything, miss, just remember that. And don’t you be so haughty about Jack. He’s a grand lad, and his father has a good farm at the top of the dale.
It’s their own, too, so they’ll not be short of a bob or two. Aye, think on, young lady. All too often them that flash the cash are the ones with nothing in their bank balance –
take it from one who knows.’

Hands on hips, Annie Woodhead glared at her young employee. She hadn’t realized that the girl was so shallow. Who did she think she was? With no family to speak of and no real roof over
her head, Alice Bentham could do a lot worse than young Jack. It was high time she realized that beggars can’t be choosers. The more Annie thought about it, the more riled she got. She was
even beginning to wonder whether taking the young orphan in had been such a good idea.

Sensing Annie’s outrage, Alice kept her head down and focused on cleaning the pumps and wiping the bar down. She hadn’t meant to cause offence, but when the woman started trying to
pair her off with Jack . . . well, it just didn’t bear thinking about. No, her sights were set on something better than a common farm lad. Mind you, she hadn’t realized that
Jack’s dad owned his own farm; she’d always thought it was rented, like theirs had been. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to be nicer to Jack – after all, he did blush every time he
talked to her, and it was true that he never seemed short of a bob or two. She’d ask after him on Sunday when she met Will. Right now, though, she needed to come up with a quick excuse to
leave the bar for a few minutes – and it would only be a few minutes, she thought grimly, rubbing the brass foot rest with vigour.

‘Just going to pick up the bread from Mason’s, Mrs Woodhead. Shan’t be long.’ Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed her shawl and basket and darted out of the bar.
Sooner she got there, the sooner it would be over.

As she hurried to the secret rendezvous place, Alice’s stomach heaved with revulsion at what was to come. Still, if that was the price of his silence, what choice did she
have? The prospect of being branded a thief and the whole village getting to hear about it was far more terrifying than the thought of the old man pawing at her.

Her footsteps echoing on the cobbles, she turned into the deserted churchyard. What kind of man chose a church for such a disgusting purpose as these ‘little understandings’?

‘So, you’ve made it, bonny lass,’ came a voice from the side entrance of the church. ‘I knew tha would.’

Alice looked at the disgusting old man, the bulge in his trousers fighting to be released. He must have been fumbling with himself while he waited for her. When he reached out to stroke the side
of her face, she couldn’t help but cringe.

‘Now, lass, remember our arrangement: if you keep quiet, I’ll keep quiet. And don’t forget, there’s a florin in it for you . . .’

He pushed her back against the granite church wall, fumbling with the buttons on his breeches, his breathing heavy with excitement. Thoughts rushed through Alice’s head, cutting out
reality as he pulled her skirts up and tugged her bloomers down. His fingers caressed her intimate parts, making her quiver and causing him to lose control. He tried to thrust his tired manhood
into her, but in a repeat of last month’s performance, he was too late. Anticipation had got the better of him. His moment had come and gone, leaving him weak and embarrassed.

To Alice’s relief, he hurriedly buttoned his breeches, hiding the offending organ, and then reached into his waistcoat pocket. His face was ruddy and his breath was short as he pressed the
florin into Alice’s palm.

‘Remember, lass – you say nothing, I say nothing. I’m back next month, so you can earn yourself another bob or two.’

With that he slipped away, leaving Alice feeling sick and disgusted with herself. She pulled up her bloomers and adjusted her skirts, then leaned against the church wall, her body shaking, the
florin clutched in her hand. No matter how she tried to justify her actions, a niggling voice kept telling her that she was no better than a common whore, taking the old man’s money. She knew
her parents would be ashamed of her, firstly for stealing, but more so for letting a dirty old man touch her. A tear trickled down her cheek and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

Sticking her head out of the doorway to make sure he was gone, she did her best to compose herself before heading to the baker’s to pick up the bread. The shiny florin was still clutched
in her hand. She’d been certain that everything would go the same as it had the previous month: all over in no time and him incapable of anything more than a bit of fumbling. But even so, was
it really worth a florin and his silence? If she told the Woodheads about the bacon, and explained that she hadn’t meant to steal from them, that she’d only been trying to look after
Will, perhaps they would understand. The way she saw it, it was Old Todd who was in the wrong, taking advantage of a young girl who was down on her luck.

If he tried to blackmail her again, she promised herself that she would tell Annie. Surely she would understand?

It was a beautiful summer’s day. The sun shone, dragonflies skimmed and darted over the glittering river – and best of all it was a Sunday, so Alice could lie back
in the long meadow grass amid the smell of new-mown hay instead of being cooped up in the Moon.

‘Yes! Yes! Our Ali, did you see that?’ Will’s voice rang out from the direction of the river, where he was playing ‘ducks and drakes’. ‘Seven leaps with one
stone, right across to the other side of the Dee. Bet you can’t do that!’

‘When are you going to grow up, Will? Skimming stones is for kids.’ Alice was in no mood for her brother. She was having a hard time driving horrible thoughts of Old Todd from her
head, and here was Will, so full of himself after his week with Jack at Stone House marble works that he hadn’t even noticed how unhappy she was.

‘Pardon me for breathing! What’s up with you, my lady? You used to enjoy playing in the river. Besides, it’s Sunday – we’ve got the whole afternoon to ourselves,
nobody breathing down our bloody necks.’ He picked a buttercup and tickled his growling sister under the chin with it. Furious, she snatched the flower out of his hand.

‘I’m fed up with having no home, no money and no say in where my life is going. I don’t want to be a serving girl in a pub with part-time work at the manor. I want to be looked
after, have fine clothes, maids and servants and a gentleman husband.’ Alice crossed her legs and pulled her skirt over them, then lay on her back, the sun’s rays filtering through her
eyelashes, dreaming of the things she could do if she only had money.

‘Well, hard luck, our lass – you’re stuck here with me.’ Alice was forever harping on about wanting fine this and fancy that. Sometimes it seemed to Will that all his
little sister thought about was brass. ‘If I’d known my company was going to be such a disappointment, I’d not have bothered coming. I should have gone shooting with Jack
instead.’

Alice sat up quickly, bushing the buttercup debris from her bodice. ‘How is Jack? He wasn’t at the manor when I called on Miss Nancy.’

‘He’s all right. Why the sudden interest? Usually you don’t look the side he’s on.’

‘I’ve missed his friendly face, that’s all. And I was thinking, since he has such a kind disposition, perhaps I could entice Nancy downstairs next week so that she could meet
him – I’m sure she gets fed up of my face. Of course, I’d have to get Lord Frankland’s permission first.’

‘Hark at you: “a kind disposition”! You mean he’s soft.’ Will was taken aback as much by his sister’s change in attitude as her newly acquired vocabulary.
Alice never had a good word for his best mate. It was the opposite with Jack; he was always asking for news of Alice. ‘Any road, you’ll not be seeing Jack or his lordship next week.
Jack’ll be at the marble works with me, and his lordship’s away in Russia until the end of the week. And when he does return, first thing he’ll want to do is see us.’ Seeing
the effect his words were having on Alice, Will decided to antagonize her further by playing up his newfound importance: ‘Me and Jack are his lordship’s right-hand men at the moment. We
have a lot to report. He’ll not have time for you.’

‘You two – his lordship’s right-hand men? Since when!’ Alice sat up.

‘As I’ve been telling you for the last hour, since he’s had us up at Stone House watching what goes on there. And by God, is he going to be altering things when we tell him
what’s happening up there. Do you ever listen to a word I tell you?’

‘Not if I don’t have to. It’s always “Me and Jack this . . . Me and Jack that . . .” I just shut it all out.’

Alice primly smoothed down her hair and then put her hat on as if she were preparing to depart. Ever since she was a baby, Will had been able to gauge her mood by the set of her chin; when it
was set firm – as it was now – there was no reasoning with her. He took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time.

‘I can see I’m wasting my breath here.’ Slipping the watch back into his waistcoat, he picked up his cap and set it on his head. ‘The trouble with you, our Alice, is you
think of nothing but yourself. If you’d bothered to listen, you’d know the work I’ve been doing at Stone House could very well lead to something better. By the end of the week,
when his lordship comes back, I know for certain there’ll be one out of work up there. And he’s in a cottage that might just do us two – that is, if you can be bothered to live in
a two-up two-down.’

Alice said nothing, just sat and watched him as he turned away from her, thumbs in waistcoat pockets and his cap at a jaunty angle, and set off along the riverbank. When he got to the bridge, he
raised his hand in a wave. She didn’t bother to wave back. Let him stew. Always going on about his life, couldn’t be bothered to ask about her. She tore off tufts of grass and threw
them in the river, watching as they were carried by the current, veering round stones and whirling in giddy circles. All the while, Will’s words echoed in her ears, bringing back memories of
another occasion when she’d been told that she thought only of herself: the day her mother died, the day her father had shouted at her for hiding up the fell while her mother lay dying. Was
she so selfish? She didn’t think so. She was trying to make the best of her life, that’s all.

Tears welling in her eyes, Alice pulled her feet together and wrapped her arms around her knees, slowly rocking her body back and forth. She felt so lonely: nobody in the world to look after
her, and now she’d upset Will on their afternoon off. Her and her big mouth and sulky moods!

There had been times when the only thing that kept Will and Jack at Stone House was the knowledge that on Lord Frankland’s return O’Hara would be brought to account
for his brutal, tyrannical behaviour. Finally the two weeks had come to an end and they could stop counting the days: this morning they would make their report.

They had decided to talk to his lordship at the manor rather than risk being overheard at the marble works. As they sat on the kitchen-garden wall awaiting his summons, Will could see that Jack
was nervous. He was nervous himself; from the moment Lord Frankland had given them their orders, they’d known that a difficult choice lay ahead. Spying for their employer didn’t sit
easy with them; it went against the grain to run to the boss telling tales. What’s more, though he hadn’t dared lay a hand on them over the past fortnight, O’Hara had watched them
like a hawk, his menacing presence and reputation for violence sufficient to remind them that they would suffer if they didn’t keep quiet.

‘I say we tell him exactly how it is, every last detail.’ Jack couldn’t hide how he felt about the foul-mouthed foreman. After devoting much of the fortnight to tending the
horse and trying to nurse it back to health, he hated its abuser with a vengeance.

‘If you don’t, I’m certainly going to. Once his lordship hears about all those illegal money-making schemes, I bet you anything he’ll have O’Hara gone by the end of
the day. It’s small wonder that Stone House isn’t making any profit.’

‘Aye, he’ll lose his job, all right. And then the bastard will come after us. He’ll break our necks for telling on him.’