Authors: Freda Lightfoot
While Amos went through his usual ritual of washing, and a lengthy prayer on his knees, head bowed, Ella
slipped quietly out of bed and drew from the chest the nightgown Livia had persuaded her to buy. It was a deep blush pink with an edging of coffee-coloured lace around the low-cut neckline and short sleeves, quite unlike the modest white cotton nightgown she normally wore, which covered her from neck to toes. Within minutes she’d changed and was back in bed, the sheet flung back so that as he reached to turn off the oil lamp on the side table he looked at her for the first time.
His mouth fell open, his gaze riveted to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts above the low cut neckline. Ella, breathless with hope and excitement, smiled up into his face. ‘I’m so pleased you came, Amos. I’ve been hoping for so long that you would.’
Even as she spoke what she meant to be soft words of encouragement, she saw his face tighten with displeasure. His next words stunned her.
‘Is that what you wore when you cavorted with Danny Gilpin, and with George? Did you enjoy making me jealous so that I’d fall for your shameless tricks too? Just look at you. Like a whore of Babylon in that
get-up
. Where is your dignity, woman, your decency? You disgrace yourself and me by such wanton behaviour.’ And having delivered these blisteringly cruel words, he picked up the lamp and returned to the attic. Ella put her face in her hands and sobbed her heart out.
There was snow powdering the fells as Amos drove into Kendal the next morning, although it was only November. The hills were pin-sharp in the luminescent light, the river dancing at their feet, surging along with a chuckling glee on this first winter’s morning. Amos did not share its joy. He’d spent a miserable night alone in the attic going over everything in his head. Had he over-reacted? Did he see fault where none existed? Why should loving her shame him so?
He remembered what he’d felt when he’d first seen Ella with her pale silver hair and green-grey eyes. He’d been entranced by her silky skin, the wide loving smiles she’d shared with her sisters. How he’d longed to have that smile turn upon him. It had been at some function or other at Angel House that he’d first seen her, a time when Josiah had been in the business of buying land. Those plans didn’t seem to have come to fruition after all, and now his own marriage seemed destined to fail.
Yet why had he imagined she would come willingly
to his home, an isolated farm, and to his bed? He was a plain, dull farmer with nothing to recommend him at all, and she was a beautiful young woman.
And what had possessed him to think he could trust her? She was a woman. Weren’t all women sinners? Hadn’t she herself confessed to loving another, a Danny Gilpin?
Amos had prayed long and hard to his God, and finally vowed he could overcome any doubts and concerns he might have on the wisdom of this union. He’d wanted her, and foolishly believed he could make her happy, that she might at least come to love his children.
Now she was making eyes at another man in his own home, his own barn, and dressing like a hoyden, a harlot no less. Perhaps he shouldn’t have reacted quite so strongly last night, but he’d been haunted by the thought of her wearing that very same garment with
him
, her paramour. He’d had a sudden vision of the pair of them cavorting together in that very same bed, perhaps while he was out tending the sheep. Hadn’t he suffered enough? All he’d wanted to do last night, felt able to do, was to run from that knowing invitation in her eyes.
He’d spent a sleepless night, endlessly tossing and turning, feeling out of his depth, and not having the first idea what to do next. He’d risen at dawn and driven the cart into town to ask his father-in-law for help. Someone had to knock some sense into his silly young wife’s head, since she showed no sign of listening to him. Who better to turn to than her own father?
* * *
Josiah listened to the tale Amos told him in aggrieved silence, enraged that yet another of his daughters was about to become involved in a scandal. What was wrong with them all? As if he didn’t have enough on his plate to worry about right now without Ella creating mayhem.
Only this morning he’d received notice that the bank had frozen his accounts. They were about to appoint a receiver to look closely into his finances. He no longer had any say over the future of his own home, let alone Angel’s Department Store. One or both could be sold off at a knock-down price to the highest bidder, in order that the bank, and various other creditors, could have their pound of flesh. It made Josiah sick to his stomach to see his fortunes sink so low. Very soon, when word of his financial difficulties got out, his humiliation would be plain for all to titter and gossip over.
The only consolation, so far as Josiah could see, was that Hodson wouldn’t benefit from his downfall. His rival had sent round a note this morning saying that he was off to foreign climes, seeking a new future and a second fortune on the Riviera, for the sake of his dear mother’s health. Hah, a likely tale! Running for cover more like, after what he’d done to Livia, or rather failed to do. No doubt terrified she might spill the beans. Serve him right for not finishing the job properly and bringing her to heel as intended. Good riddance to bad rubbish, in Josiah’s opinion.
Unfortunately, Hodson’s departure had not come soon enough to save the day, but at least the man wouldn’t get his hands on Angel’s Department Store. That dratted
loan never would get repaid now, not if Josiah had any say in the matter.
There was at least some satisfaction in that.
But this could all have been so easily avoided, if only Livia had been more accommodating, and if Maggie had not carried out the ultimate disgrace. And if that workhouse brat hadn’t come into his life, threatening to ruin his reputation completely. Now Ella was about to embark upon an affair with some labourer her husband had hired.
Damnation! It was more than any father should be asked to endure. Would his daughters never learn to behave with proper decency?
His first reaction was to deny responsibility, on the grounds it was up to Ella’s husband to control her now, not her father. But then Amos made an interesting remark which brought him up short.
‘I’d foolishly imagined that things were getting better between us, so much so that I’d taken on extra help in the house and dairy: a girl called Mercy. I also took on her husband George as a hired hand to work with me on the farm. The girl is only seventeen or eighteen, young to be married, but I’ve checked the marriage certificate and I’m satisfied the union is genuine. Now this George has the gall to take a fancy to my wife. I saw them together the other day and I was sickened by the way he was touching her and she was lapping up the attention. I swear I’m at my wits’ end.’
Josiah became very quiet. Surely there couldn’t be more than one girl of that name in Kendal? It was not
a common one. Clearing his throat, he idly enquired. ‘Where did you meet them, this couple?’
‘It was Livia who introduced them to me at her friends’ house, and I thought…I mean…they seemed perfectly respectable and…’ Amos stopped, frowning, the first seeds of doubt forming in his mind. Had he said something wrong? Should he perhaps not have mentioned Livia, or her friends? He knew there was some form of estrangement between both girls and their father, something to do with their sister Maggie’s death, although why they should blame him for the girl’s suicide he had no idea. They had not told him the full tale and he had not asked, presuming it to be private, family business.
Josiah smiled. ‘Friends of Livia’s, you say? Then you may well be right that they are indeed respectable, although they could simply be some of her lame ducks. I’ll have a word with Ella, if you wish. Try to find out what’s going on, and remind her of the need to appreciate how very fortunate she is to have such a good husband. It’s time the lass grew up.’
Amos sighed with relief, and instantly stopped worrying about Livia. She was not his concern in any case. Didn’t he have enough to worry about with Ella, his lovely wife, whom he seemed to be losing just when he’d thought they were growing close at last? If Josiah could help, what more could he ask? He didn’t give a thought to Mercy. Why would he? She was nothing but a dairymaid, so far as Amos was concerned.
‘Thank you, Father-in-law. I would greatly
appreciate your assistance in this delicate matter.’
‘Consider it done.’
Nothing on God’s earth would prevent Josiah from taking this opportunity to finally deal with that misbegotten child and at least spare himself the ignominy of any further scandal.
That same afternoon, Josiah was sitting in Ella’s parlour drinking tea and eating her damson pie. Ella was wondering why she’d ever felt afraid of him. He was nothing more than a sad old man. He looked deeply weary, his flabby cheeks drooping even more than usual, the eyes more twisted, the mouth slack rather than firm and determined. He seemed to have aged noticeably since last she’d seen him, but she felt not a jot of sympathy for him.
Ella sat, spine rigid, with not even a polite smile to lighten her own grim expression. Nor did she pay much attention to whatever it was he was saying to her, something about how she should appreciate her good fortune, that she mustn’t create a scandal or misbehave, be a good little wife and other such nonsense. As if she would have the opportunity to be anything else out here in the back of beyond, even had she wanted to misbehave! Which she didn’t, in point of fact. But how could she be a good wife if her husband wouldn’t come near her?
She’d felt quite ill today, hardly able to comprehend that it had all gone wrong for them yet again. She kept hearing those words Amos had used, ‘
whore of
Babylon
’. What on earth did he mean? What was so wrong with wearing a pretty nightgown? She hadn’t even realised she was making a mistake simply by trying to look nice for him. Wasn’t she even allowed to be feminine, to enjoy being a woman now that she was a farmer’s wife? A preacher’s wife! She felt quite tearful at the thought, and very afraid. How would she ever reach him when he was so
good
, so morally upstanding, so bloody perfect?
Now to be forced to sit here in her own parlour and be lectured by her father was too much. Had Amos said something to him about their difficulties? She’d never forgive him if he had.
Ella watched with dismay as Mrs Rackett served Josiah a second slice of damson pie, glaring fiercely when she cut it extra large with a generous portion of cream, and banished her with a look. The older woman crept away, back to the kitchen. Ella held her tongue as her father launched into yet another lecture, this time about lack of gratitude on her part, and that of her sisters, for all he had done for them. The way he was singing his own praises almost made her laugh out loud.
She shut her ears to the sound of his voice, focused upon getting this little domestic scene over and done with as quickly as possible, and getting Josiah out of her house. Otherwise she might explode and hit him in the face with the remains of this damson pie. The visit had been unasked for and unexpected. His very presence in her parlour made her skin crawl. Ella waited with barely contained patience for him to mop up the
last piece of pie, then got to her feet the instant he laid down his spoon.
‘Well, thank you for calling, Father. It was interesting to see you and hear your news.’ Had he brought any news? She really couldn’t remember, not having paid proper attention to anything that he’d said. ‘I trust you will take proper care of yourself.’
‘I don’t seem to have any choice since my daughters are hell-bent on creating havoc,’ he grumbled. ‘You bring me nothing but grief.’
The pale winter light of the afternoon was darkening, and it had started to snow again, great piles of it starting to drift and pile up against the farmhouse walls. Ella had a sudden vision of Josiah’s motor getting stuck in the lane, compelling him to return and stay the night. She quickly handed him his hat and waterproof. ‘I don’t wish to hurry you but the weather is worsening and you wouldn’t want to get caught up in a snowstorm on your way home to Kendal, would you?’
She briskly ushered him off the premises, almost dusting the mat of the imprint of his feet and quickly closing the door before he’d even reached his motor. Let him drive into a snowdrift for all she cared, so long as he didn’t come back here. Ever!
But Josiah did not immediately climb into his Mercedes-Benz and drive away. Unseen by anyone in the gathering snow, he went to the barn and after hunting around for a likely spot, he set a gin trap just where George and Mercy would come down the stairs from the loft above. Half hidden by darkness and a scattering
of straw, they wouldn’t see it until it was far too late. Josiah didn’t much care which of them got caught in it. He would prefer it to be Mercy, but seeing her husband crippled would serve almost as well. The revenge would be just as sweet.
The snow hadn’t lain for long before a downpour of rain had banished it, sweeping the dale clean, and the following morning Ella woke to bright skies and crisp, clear mountain air. But not even the improved weather could lift her spirits following her father’s visit. Ella felt quite low. It disturbed her to think that he was still involved in her life, still ruling and controlling her, even though it was almost eighteen months since she’d left home. What right had he to lecture her on how to behave as a wife? Had Amos been complaining about her?
She’d thought her new nightdress was really quite elegant and tasteful when she’d bought it, not at all the kind a scarlet woman would choose to wear. Why did Amos always think the worst of her? Why hadn’t he thought her pretty? Why didn’t he trust her?
Coming to a sudden decision, she ran upstairs to the attic, empty at this time of day as Amos was out on the fells, probably checking on which ewes still needed to be served by the tup.
The attic was gloomy, with only a little light filtering in through the narrow fanlight, dust motes floating in a shaft of pale winter sunlight. It was bitterly cold with fierce draughts blowing in through the ill-fitting window; a wonder Amos didn’t freeze up here in wintertime.
The narrow bed where he’d made love to her so beautifully, albeit in a dream state, was rumpled and unmade, the single blanket thrown back revealing one worn grubby sheet, patched and thin. A crumpled pillow lay discarded on the floor. What was he thinking, living here all alone, revelling in self-pity and moral martyrdom, when he could be with her in a comfortable bed? How would they ever salvage this marriage if they didn’t sleep together?
Amos Todd, like his family before him, had been born in this ancient house; had lived, worked, and would no doubt die here in the peace and isolation of these hills where none of the new breed of tourists ever trod. He was self-sufficient and independent to a fault. A quiet, introspective man who trusted no one, not even his wife, who rarely even thought to cuddle his own children. What could a woman do with such a husband?
The next instant, Ella was ripping the sheets and blanket from the bed. She tore off the pillow case, stripped the mattress bare, and gathered the whole lot into a bundle ready for Mrs Rackett to wash. Not satisfied with that, she pushed the mattress off the bed and propped it against the wall. Then she unscrewed the legs from the base of the bed, and completely dismantled it. Let Amos try and sleep in it now. He’d find precious little comfort on the bare floorboards.
* * *
Amos never went near his attic bedroom during the day, but Ella heard him pass her bedroom door and climb the rickety stairs about half an hour after she’d retired for the night. She heard the door of the loft open, his footsteps move across the floor, and imagined him carrying in the oil lamp, placing it on the box he used as a bedside table. The silence now was deafening, the only sound being the thump of her heart. What would he do? Would he come to her, or obstinately sleep with no covers on the bare mattress?
It was almost a relief when she again heard his step on the stair, and then the door of her room opened.
‘I suppose you did this.’
Ella was sitting up in bed in her new silk nightgown, the light of her own bedside lamp illuminating her fair beauty as she smiled shyly at him. ‘I thought it time we became man and wife proper, Amos. Or that you at least talked to me, instead of hurling insults because I simply want to look pretty for you.’
His face took on that tight, condemning look, and for a moment she thought all was lost, that he’d stalk away again, as before. But then he softly closed the door and came into the room. He looked all gangly and uncomfortable standing there, not quite knowing where to put himself, his expression almost sheepish.
‘I’ve been wondering lately if happen I’ve been a bit too judgemental, like, a bit hard on thee.’
Ella couldn’t help smiling at this understatement, and the way he’d slipped back into the old-fashioned ‘thee’ again. She patted the bed, inviting him to sit, and without
protest, he did so, perching on the edge as if she might contaminate him if he came too near.
‘I certainly think it’s time we were more open and honest with each other, don’t you? I’ll start, shall I, by admitting that I never wanted to marry you, and objected most strongly. I gave in only because of the retribution my father would have inflicted upon my sisters, had I not obeyed him.’
He frowned. ‘What sort of retribution?’
Ella told him then about the many beatings their father had regularly given his three daughters while they were growing up, either by use of his fists, or the leather belt from around his waist. She described that day when Josiah had finally broken her resistance by hanging Livia by her wrists, like a piece of meat from a butcher’s hook, in a cage he kept specifically for that purpose in the tower room. Amos looked shocked and appalled by this, at first reluctant to accept the truth, but by the time she was done explaining his treatment of her mother, and her true relationship with Mercy, he believed every word.
‘He kept a mistress?’
‘Several, I believe.’
‘And rejected Mercy because she was the child of one? But the fault was not the child’s.’
‘Indeed not.’ Ella almost sighed with relief that he was taking this so well. ‘She is an innocent, albeit one with a huge chip on her shoulder. But then why wouldn’t she when her own father had her locked in the workhouse.’ Ella went on to relate the tale of the birching Josiah had ordered.
‘How could he treat you all so badly, his own children?’
‘I wish I knew. I suppose because he never loved us, never loved anyone but himself. Do you love your children?’
‘Of course.’
She looked at him then, her gaze challenging. Ella was deeply afraid of saying the wrong thing, yet knowing that if they didn’t begin to break down these barriers between them, they’d never get anywhere.
‘You gave little sign of it when I first came here. It’s been a real battle to even get you to allow them to play, as normal children should. And don’t tell me Esther wouldn’t approve, because Esther isn’t here any more, but you are. They would also like it if you gave them a hug now and then. It’s quite safe to love them. You aren’t going to lose them, Amos. I understand your fears about sickness and infections, having learnt about Esther’s final days, but you don’t need to be quite so paranoiac about cleanliness, or frightened of loving them. Neither Tilda nor Emmett is going to get sick and die, as their mother did. They’re healthy and strong, but you will most certainly lose their love if you don’t show them yours.’
Having said her piece, what she’d been longing to get off her chest for some months, Ella held her breath and waited for his reaction, not even daring to look at him.
‘Do they hate me?’ he asked at length, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Is it too late?’
She smiled, and there was such shame in his face that her heart went out to him. ‘No, of course it isn’t. It’s
never too late to tell someone that you love them. Not if it’s the truth.’
Ella caressed his hands, so rough and hard, yet so gentle. ‘I know you love them really, and that you loved Esther. I’ve no wish to interfere with what you had with your first wife, but you’re married to me now, and life moves on, things change. I confess I once foolishly fancied myself in love with Danny Gilpin, but that’s all it was, a silly fancy, a boy and girl crush. I spoke the truth when I said we did nothing to be ashamed of. You were the one who took my virginity, Amos, the night I came to your little eyrie upstairs.’
His face flushed crimson at the memory. ‘You were so beautiful, I thought I was dreaming.’
She smiled shyly at him. ‘It was lovely. Perhaps we were both dreaming.’
‘And I spoilt everything by mistrusting you again.’
‘And throwing biblical insults at me. Not quite right to use the Bible in that way, is it?’
His flush deepened. ‘I was ashamed of my own weakness in wanting you.’
‘Why? It’s not a disgrace to love your wife, Amos, even the Bible would approve of that.’
He looked sheepish. ‘I know, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to trust you because of what happened before, with Esther.’
Ella pushed back the bedclothes and edged closer to lean against his shoulder. ‘Why, what happened, Amos? Tell me about Esther.’
‘She took a fancy to a quarryman. She’d often go down
there, claimed to be fascinated by the stone and watching the men work. Then I came home unexpectedly one day and found her with one of them. In this bed.’
‘Oh, Amos, how dreadful!’ Ella was appalled, and understood everything now. ‘You must have been devastated.’
‘I never could trust her after that.’
‘Nor any other woman.’
‘I suppose not. She took to driving into Kendal once or twice a month, supposedly to market, but I suspected her of meeting him there instead.’
Ella sighed. ‘That must have been difficult for you to live with. No wonder you would never let me go into town. And then she got sick?’
‘She caught scarlet fever, but I stood by her.’
‘That was brave and noble of you.’
‘She was still my wife, no matter what she’d done. It’s Christian to forgive.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘We all make mistakes, Amos, and you did indeed look after her well. I’m sure she couldn’t have asked for better care.’
He put his arm about Ella, stroked her silver fair hair, then let his hand fall away, as if he didn’t feel he had the right. ‘But I took it out on you, and on the children. I felt so stupid, so used, not trusting anyone. I closed in on meself. I thought, why would anyone love me?’
There was such sadness in his eyes, Ella could bear no more. ‘I do. I love you, Amos. I do really.’
He looked at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
‘I know I didn’t want this marriage, and behaved very foolishly when I first came here, grumbling and moaning the whole time, not being prepared to pull my weight and do my duty as your wife in any way. I was perverse and provoking, half expecting you to turn violent and hit me when I disobeyed you, as Father used to do.’
‘I would never do that, although you were very stubborn at times.’ He half smiled. ‘And really quite funny: being chased by the geese, falling in the bog, afraid of the cows, and not making any cheese but still wanting to take it to market to sell. I liked it best when the rats scared you into my arms.’
She gazed into his brown eyes. ‘That’s when you first kissed me.’
‘I liked that bit quite a lot.’
‘Then why don’t you do it again?’ It was about as clear an invitation as she could give. ‘I love you, Amos, and there’s no shame in that. I’m not a bad woman, I’m your wife. What more can I say?’
‘You could say that you forgive me, because I love you too, Ella,’ he murmured, so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. ‘I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you at your father’s house.’
‘Oh, Amos, I think I started falling in love with you when you rescued those new-born lambs in the snow, although I didn’t realise it at the time. I also quite enjoyed seeing you bathing in the river.’
His eyes widened with shock. ‘You were spying on me?’
‘I was,’ and she grinned wickedly at him.
Then he was indeed kissing her, and when he finally paused for breath, all she could say was, ‘Oh, kiss me again. And again, and again, and again.’
Amos readily obliged, and Ella sank back on the pillows in her pretty nightgown, which he at once set about gently removing, having properly admired it first and remarked on how pretty it was. They both began to laugh with the sheer joy of finding each other, and of finally bringing down that wall of silence and distrust.
Much later, when they lay with their arms about each other in the big comfortable bed, Amos said, ‘So this is what it feels like to be in love?’
Ella sighed with happiness. ‘It is indeed, my love, and the best part is that it can only get better and better.’ And pulling him to her once more, proved she was right.
The next morning Amos brought Ella a cup of tea in bed, kissing her and telling her to sleep in while he went to collect the cows for milking. It was George who found him some time later, alerted by his pitiful cries, caught fast in the gin trap Josiah had set.