A Mother's Courage (5 page)

Mabel soon had the kindling alight and it sent
tongues of flame licking round the coals. She sat
back on her haunches and turned to Eloise with
a shy smile. 'You'll have a right good blaze in a
few minutes.' Scrambling to her feet, she
approached the bed. 'I'll fetch you summat to
eat, and some tea. Would the little fellow like
some hot milk?'

'Thank you, Mabel. That would be just the
thing.'

'And I daresay a jug of hot water wouldn't go
amiss. They say below stairs that you've come all
the way from London on the train. Nasty dirty
things them trains are, belching steam and
spitting out bits of cinder to fly into your eyes.
I've only been on one once, but that were
enough. Give me the pony and trap any day.'

Eloise's head was beginning to pound, but she
managed a weak smile. 'You're very kind,
Mabel. But I wouldn't want you to get into
trouble with Miss Braithwaite.'

Mabel tossed her head. 'Oh, her! A right nasty
piece of work is Miss Joan. Sour old puss she is,
it's no wonder she's an old maid.' She clapped
her hand over her mouth. ' I'm sorry, miss. I've
said too much. I was forgetting you're family.'

She backed towards the door, bobbed a curtsey
and had left the room before Eloise had a chance
to answer. Beth's cries could no longer be
ignored and Eloise was thankful that she would
now be able to suckle her baby in peace. As she
sat propped up on pillows, with Beth at her
breast and Joss curled up at her side, Eloise
closed her eyes, shutting out her surroundings.
Outside the house the wind moaned and sighed
like a soul in torment. Joss had his thumb
plugged firmly in his mouth and his cheeks were
tear-stained and grubby. Eloise stroked his
damp curls back from his forehead. Ronald,
indeed! How dare the hateful woman change her
son's name to that of his dead father? How could
she even think of shutting two small children up
in a nursery far away from their mother? Ronnie
would not have stood for such treatment, but
then he was not here. She was their only
surviving parent and it was up to her to care for
them, feed them and protect them from the cruel
outside world. She had not been looking forward
to placing their lives in the hands of her in-laws,
but she could never have imagined the hostility
with which she had been greeted.

What would she do? If she left Cribb's Hall,
where would she go? Her tired brain could not
find an answer. Tomorrow she would think of a
way, but one thing was certain, she would not
stay in this hateful house a moment longer than
was absolutely necessary.

Eloise opened her eyes and was suddenly wide
awake. The room was in almost complete darkness,
except for the pale outline of the window.
She sensed rather than saw a movement at the
foot of the bed where Beth lay sleeping in a
drawer from the chest. Joss was curled up at her
side like a warm puppy, but the sound of
breathing was not his, nor was it her own. There
was someone else in the room and Eloise
snapped upright in the bed. 'Who's there?' Her
voice sounded thin and quavery, like that of a
frightened child. She sprang from the bed to
snatch Beth from her makeshift cradle, and as
she did so she felt a waft of ice-cold air rush past
her, and the sound of a smothered sigh, or it
could have been a muffled giggle. Then there
was silence. With Beth in her arms, Eloise tiptoed
across the room to close the door, which had
been shut when she went to bed but was now
wide open. She stood for a moment, listening for
sounds of movement in the house, but all was
quiet. She had no clear idea of the time, but she
tried to rationalise her terrifying experience;
perhaps a maidservant had entered the room by
mistake? It would be easy enough in the dark.
There were no such things as ghosts, she told
herself as she closed the door. It must have been
a draught which caused it to open, and her
overactive imagination had done the rest. With
Beth in her arms, she hurried back to bed.

'I've brought you a cup of tea, miss.'

Eloise opened her eyes, focusing with difficulty.
This time it was not a phantom that had
awakened her, it was the reassuringly solid and
friendly shape of Mabel who stood at her
bedside, holding a cup and saucer in one hand
and a candle in the other. It was dark outside and
Eloise blinked at her, wondering why she had
been woken up when it was obviously still the
middle of the night. 'What time is it?'

Mabel grinned as she put the cup on the
bedside table. 'It's six o'clock, miss. We're early
risers here. The master leaves for the factory
prompt at seven every day except for Sunday.
The mistress has breakfast at ten minutes past
seven precisely, so I thought I'd give you time to
get up and dressed. She's a stickler for time, as
she is in all things.' Mabel bustled over to the
fireplace and began clearing the ashes from the
grate. 'I'll soon get the fire going. Then I'll fetch
you some hot water for washing.'

Eloise sat up in bed and wrapped her shawl
around her shoulders. Beth was awake now and
hungry. Joss was still sleeping, and Eloise moved
carefully so as not to disturb him as she put Beth
to her breast. 'Thank you, Mabel,' she said softly.
'You're very kind.'

'Why no, miss. I'm just doing my job.'

Eloise reached out for her tea and took a sip.
'What time do you start work, Mabel?'

'Half past five, miss. Except on Sundays when
it's six o'clock. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, nothing. I must have had a nightmare
because I thought someone came into my room
last night. The door was wide open although I
know I closed it before I got into bed.'

'I daresay it were the wind, miss.' Mabel
scrambled hastily to her feet. 'That's done. I'll
fetch you the hot water now.'

She bobbed a curtsey and had sped from the
room before Eloise had a chance to continue the
conversation, leaving her even more mystified
than before. In her heightened state of emotion,
she was quick to notice the subtle change in
Mabel's demeanour. Perhaps she was protecting
someone? It was just possible that one of the
servants walked in their sleep. That would be a
commonsense explanation and it might explain
Mabel's reluctance to speak.

Joss stirred and opened his eyes. 'Mama?' He
clambered to his feet, wrapping his chubby arms
round her neck to give her a rather moist kiss on
her cheek.

'Hello, sleepyhead.' She brushed the tip of his
button nose with her lips. 'Be a good boy for
Mama while she sees to Beth, and then we'll get
dressed and go down to breakfast.' Eloise kept
her tone light, but the thought of facing her
mother-in-law and Joan filled her with trepidation.
Then there was Ronnie's father. At the
wedding he had appeared to be so overshadowed
by his domineering wife that he had
merged into the background. In fact she could
hardly remember him at all. He had seemed nice
enough, and had welcomed her to the family, but
Hilda Cribb had been tight-lipped with disapproval,
even though she had made an obvious
effort to be pleasant. Maybe she had wanted to
show her best side to her son's new wife and
family, or perhaps people changed as soon as
they entered the grim portals of Cribb's Hall. If
his wife was anything to go by, Harcourt Cribb
would probably beat his servants, whip his
horses and ill-treat his workers. Eloise hitched
Beth over her shoulder and rubbed her back until
she emitted a satisfactory burp. Joss was jumping
about on the bed with unbounded energy: at
least their ordeal of yesterday did not seem to
have upset her children. Eloise swung her legs
over the side of the bed and laid Beth in her
makeshift cradle while she dressed. Her skirt
and blouse were sadly creased and crumpled,
and felt rather damp, but they would have to do.
She would ask Mabel to iron the rest of her
clothes and hang them somewhere warm to air –
if there was such a place in this cold, damp
house.

Half an hour later, Eloise made her way to the
dining room, following Mabel's somewhat
vague directions. With Beth on her hip and Joss
holding her hand, she counted the doors leading
off the entrance hall, which seemed just as
forbidding in the early morning as it had done
last night. The stuffed deer heads stared glumly
down at her and a fox with its tongue hanging
out between bared teeth seemed to be smirking
at her discomfort. Dark oil paintings of Highland
scenes with stags at bay and another depicting
dead pheasants, trophies of the shoot, did
nothing to lighten her mood. After trying several
wrong doors, finding two locked and one that
turned out to be a cloakroom, Eloise at last came
to the dining room. The aroma of fried bacon,
sausages and hot toast assailed her nostrils and
she realised that she was ravenously hungry. So
was Joss, judging by the way he dashed towards
the table and attempted to climb onto the nearest
chair.

'Joss, darling. Wait for Mama.' She stopped
short as she realised that they were not alone in
the wainscoted dining room. Seated at the far
end of the vast mahogany dining table was her
father-in-law, a small, grey-haired man with side
whiskers and a moustache which sat oddly on
his round cherubic face, as if someone had stuck
them on for a joke. He half rose from his seat, and
he was smiling. 'Come and sit down, lass. I'm
sorry I wasn't here to welcome you last evening,
but I had business in Leeds and didn't get home
until past midnight.' He motioned her to take a
seat beside him at the table.

'Thank you, Father-in-law.' Eloise lifted Joss
and set him down on a chair. She did not immediately
take a seat, but paused awkwardly, not
quite knowing how to express her condolences
to Mr Cribb on the loss of his son. It was hard
even to think of Ronnie without breaking down
into tears. 'I – I just wanted to say – I mean –
Ronnie's death came as such a blow to me, I can
only imagine how it must feel to his parents.'

Harcourt stood up, mopping his eyes with a
red silk handkerchief. 'Nay, lass. There's no need
for you to fret about us. Mother and me have
always known the risks that our Ronald took by
choosing a life at sea. Don't think we don't feel
his loss as keenly as any other parents, but we're
private folks and we keep our tears to ourselves.'
He held out a chair for her. 'Sit down and have
summat to eat. Heaven knows you've no meat on
your bones as it is. We don't want you fading
away, now do we?' He chuckled deep in his
throat and he patted her on the shoulder. 'What
can I get you, lass? Bacon and sausage – our own
make of course. Scrambled eggs, kippers – we
have the lot here. We keep as good a table as any
of the gentry round these parts, and I swear by a
good breakfast as being the best start to the day.'

'Some scrambled eggs would be lovely, thank
you.'

Harcourt hurried off towards the chiffonier,
which was positively groaning beneath the
weight of silver serving dishes. A maidservant
answered the tug of a bell pull and he sent her off
to bring a fresh pot of tea and some toast. He
returned with a plate piled high with scrambled
egg for Eloise and a smaller one for Joss. 'Here,'
he said, holding out his arms. 'Let me hold the
little lass while you eat. She's a right bonny little
thing, isn't she? I'll wager she has blue eyes just
like young Ronald here. They take after our
Ronnie in that respect.' He cleared his throat and
sat down, cradling Beth in his arms.

'I don't want to hold you up,' Eloise murmured,
choosing to ignore the fact that Harcourt
had called Joss 'young Ronald', but it made her
even more determined to have the matter out
with her mother-in-law at the first opportunity.
She continued to spoon egg into Joss's mouth. He
could feed himself but it was a messy business
and she didn't think that Hilda would be too
pleased if she came down to breakfast and found
her grand dining room turned into a pigsty.

'I'm the boss,' Harcourt said blithely. 'I can
afford to come in late if I choose. I don't do it very
often because I believe an idle master makes idle
servants, but today is an exception. I just wanted
to tell you that from now on you must think of
Cribb's Hall as your home.'

'Thank you, but I'm not sure Mrs Cribb would
agree with you. I think maybe it's too soon after
losing Ronnie for her to take kindly to me.'

'Nay, lass. You mustn't think that way. My
Hilda can be a bit forthright at times, but she's a
fine woman, and I'm sure she meant no harm.
Some folks have difficulty in dealing with their
loss, and Hilda thought the world of our Ronnie.'
Eloise swallowed a mouthful of egg, wiping
her lips on the starched white linen napkin. 'I'm
sure you're right, sir.'

'I know I am. Just give her time. I know it will
be strange for you at first and you must miss
your mother and father, but you'll soon settle in
and adjust to our ways.'

Eloise nodded, unable to speak. The mention
of her parents had only added to her anguish,
bringing the ready tears to her eyes. She
struggled to regain her self-control. The last
thing she wanted was to disgrace herself in front
of this kindly man, who reminded her so much
of Ronnie. Not that they looked alike – Ronnie
had been tall and broad-shouldered with rugged
good looks – but there was something in his
father's smile and a light in his blue eyes that was
a heartbreaking reminder of his son.

Harcourt took a gold half-hunter watch from
his waistcoat pocket. 'My goodness, look at the
time. I must be going.' He stood up and laid Beth
gently in Eloise's arms. 'Keep your chin up, lass.
And don't let Joan bully you. She's not a bad old
stick at heart, but you've got to stand up to her.'
He bent down to ruffle Joss's curls. 'You be a
good lad for your mother, young Ronald. One
day, son, all this will be yours, and when you're
older I'll teach you everything I know about the
pie business. You'll grow up to be one of them
kings of industry, young man, or my name isn't
Harcourt Cribb.' There was a definite swagger in
his step as he left the dining room.

Eloise had listened to him with a leaden feeling
in her stomach. So they were all in on the plot to
turn Joss into a substitute for his father, even the
kindly Harcourt. Ronnie had thwarted his
father's plans for him to go into the wretched pie
business, and unwittingly, and from no choice of
her own, she had placed her young son in the
family's power. A frightening glimpse of the
future flashed before her eyes. Joss was not yet
three, and yet his life was already being mapped
out for him. Her hand shook as she held a cup of
milk to his lips. The vision of her son being
moulded into a pale replica of his grandfather
was almost too much to bear. Suddenly her
appetite deserted her and she pushed the plate of
food away. As she wiped a smear of egg from
Joss's face, Eloise grew even more determined to
make her stand. No one was going to take her
son from her. He was going to grow up to be his
own man and she would fight to the death to
protect him.

She turned her head with a start as the door
opened and Joan stalked into the dining room
with an ominous frown on her face. 'The nursery
is the correct place for feeding children,' she
snapped. 'There'll be greasy fingerprints all over
the best silk damask after this, mark my words.
That material on the seats was imported especially
from abroad and it cost a small fortune. It's
not for the backsides and sticky fingers of little
tykes like our Ronald. You should have waited in
your room until you were told what to do, young
lady.'

Eloise rose slowly to her feet, controlling her
temper with difficulty. 'What gives you the right
to speak to me like this? I've done nothing to
offend you, Miss Braithwaite.'

'You took our Ronald from us, that's what you
did. He were the apple of his mother's eye and
you fair broke her heart.'

'That's just not true. Ronnie left home to join
the navy when he was little more than a boy.
From what he told me he rarely ventured home,
and now I can understand why.'

'Your mother should have washed your mouth
out with soap when you were young. How dare
you use that tone to me?'

'You leave my mother out of this. She is a
wonderful woman and has never done anything
wrong in her whole life.'

Joan folded her arms across her flat chest and
tossed her head. 'And she's gone away and left
you to live off the charity of others. I don't call
that the action of a wonderful mother.'

Eloise put her arm around Joss as he began to
whimper. 'You're frightening my boy. Leave us
alone.' She pushed past Joan and led a sobbing
Joss from the dining room.

'That's right,' Joan called after her. 'Run away
when you know you are losing the argument. I
know your sort, Eloise Monkham. You don't
deserve to bear the name of Cribb.'

With Beth clutched in one arm, Eloise hoisted
Joss onto her hip and she hurried across the hall
and up the stairs. She was out of breath and very
much out of sorts when she reached the relative
sanctity of her room. Mabel had been in the
process of making the bed and she looked up in
alarm. 'Goodness, miss. What's wrong?'

Eloise lowered Joss to the floor and subsided
onto a chair by the fireplace, rocking Beth in her
arms. Mabel had been generous with the coal
and its blaze sent out a comforting warm glow.
Outside the window the snow was falling in
huge feathery flakes. In the distance, Eloise could
see the snow-covered wolds stretching as far as
the eye could see. She realised then that she was
marooned here in this icy wilderness, and there
was no hope of escape, at least until the weather
improved.

'Can I do anything, miss? Shall I fetch you a
cup of tea, or summat?'

Eloise looked up into Mabel's anxious face and
she smiled. 'No, thank you. I'm all right.'