A Mother's Shame (9 page)

‘Hmm!’ Martha said caustically. Obviously the young lady in question had got herself into trouble. There were more than a few youngsters dotted about the village who had been fostered out after being born in Hatter’s Hall. As her concerns about her own daughter surfaced, Martha’s frown deepened. It would be ironic if Maria had to wait on a young woman who was in the family way, if
she
was in the same condition herself. But Maria had not actually owned up to that, so she could only go on praying that her fears were not justified.

It was then that Edward strode in from the small sitting room at the front of the cottage with his Bible tucked under his arm, and much as her mother had done only moments before, he asked, ‘So how did your interview go?’

‘I start tomorrow.’

Martha noted the look of satisfaction that played briefly across his face and resentment surged through her. How could he even consider sending Maria to work in such a place? But then she should not have been surprised. Edward had never had any time for the girl, and no doubt it would suit him to have her tucked away in that godforsaken hole.

Seeing his wife’s expression, he said meanly, ‘Is that not good news then, Mother?’

‘There are many positions I would rather have seen her in,’ Martha retorted. She rarely answered him back or disagreed with him, but today she could not help herself.

‘I think she will be admirably suited to working there,’ he answered mockingly. ‘And her wages will come in more than handy each week. No doubt they will pay more at Hatter’s Hall than Mrs Everitt did.’

Martha took a deep breath before she said something she might regret, and sensing a row brewing, Maria said hurriedly, ‘I shall be perfectly all right, Mother, really I shall.’
But I wish I could take you and Emma with me,
her heart cried silently.

Her little sister, who had been listening to the exchange, inched up to her with tears sparkling on her long dark lashes. ‘You aren’t going away, are you, Ria?’ she asked shakily.

‘Not
very
far away,’ Maria assured her. ‘And I shall come home to see you every single Sunday afternoon. That will be nice, won’t it?’

‘But why can’t you stay here with us?’ Emma was openly crying now at the thought of losing the big sister she adored.

‘Because she is old enough to pay her way in the world and she needs to take whatever job she is offered and be thankful for it,’ her father rasped harshly.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door and grumbling, he hurried across to open it, which was just as well as it stopped Maria from responding.

The minute Edward opened the door a young, pitifully thin lad who was clad in clothes that were nowhere suitable for the terrible weather conditions outside tumbled into the room, bringing a gust of icy air and a flurry of snow with him.

‘What do you want, boy?’ Edward asked with not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

‘It’s me dad, sir,’ the poor child managed to say through chattering teeth. He dragged his greasy cap off and nervously twisted it in his hands. ‘Me mam said to ask you to come quick. She thinks he’s not long fer this world.’

‘Oh, you poor little soul,’ Martha said quickly before Edward could respond. ‘Of course he will come. Won’t you, Edward? But whilst he is getting his coat on you must have a warm drink. You look perished. Come on, come over here and sit by the fire.’

She saw the look of displeasure flicker across her husband’s face. No one had turned up for lessons today, no doubt because of the inclement weather, and she knew that he had been hoping to spend a quiet day at home. She had recognised the child instantly. He was one of the Bellamy children from the pit cottages in Chapel End, if she wasn’t much mistaken. Her heart ached for him as she hastily poured some of the leftover gruel into a thick pottery mug. He was one of at least seven children and she wondered how his poor mother would manage if she lost her husband. Ted Bellamy was a miner at the local pit – a good, hardworking man – but now it looked as if he was going to be the next victim of the flu epidemic, poor soul. And what would happen to his family then, she wondered. The cottage was tied so there was a terrible possibility that they might all end up in the workhouse in the Bull Ring in Chilvers Coton. She shuddered at the thought but was powerless to do anything about it.

Edward meanwhile was getting into his outdoor clothes and looking none too pleased about it. Eventually he lifted his Bible and told the boy unfeelingly, ‘Come along then or there’s every chance your father will have died before we even get there.’

The trembling child quickly drained the mug, then flashing a grateful smile at Martha, he followed Edward out into the snow without another word.

‘Poor little mite,’ Martha muttered. ‘What will become of him if his father dies? Happen it will be the workhouse for that family.’

But then her thoughts returned to her own family’s pressing problems and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least now that Edward was out of the way she would have a chance to speak to her daughter alone. Emma had gone to settle on the rug in front of the fire and was playing with her dolly, so now Martha drew up a chair and taking her older daughter’s hand, she said softly, ‘Are you
really
all right to go and work in that place, pet?’

Maria nodded, and as she looked into her mother’s eyes an unspoken message passed between them. ‘Yes, Mam, I am. It will give me some breathing space to decide what I’m going to do.’

In that moment, Martha’s fears were verified and the breath caught in her throat. ‘How far on are you?’ she asked bluntly.

Maria lowered her head. ‘I reckon a little over two months.’ Tears began to trickle down her cheeks then as she mumbled brokenly, ‘I’m so sorry I’ve let you down. But . . . but Lennie said he loved me.’

‘Eeh, not young Lennie Glover.’ Martha groaned as she rubbed a workworn hand across her forehead. ‘Oh lass, didn’t I warn you to stay well away from him? Surely you knew he had the gift of the gab? Why, he’s bedded half the lasses in the village with his sweet-talking. Have you told him?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Maria sniffled. ‘And he promised he’d come and talk to Father about us getting married – but then he . . . he ran away. His mother says he’s gone to sea and there’s no telling when he’ll be back. But I’m sure he will when he’s had time to think about it. He loves me, Mam. He said so!’

‘Dear God.’ Martha stood up and began to pace up and down the length of the kitchen. Edward would surely kill her if he ever discovered she was with child, or at best, he would disown her. What was she to do if Lennie did not come back for her very soon? As if picking up on the fraught atmosphere, Emma looked up from her play and Martha told her sharply, ‘Go and play upstairs in your bedroom, Emma!’

‘But it’s cold up there,’ the child objected.

‘Do as you are told
now!’

Not used to being shouted at by her mother, the little girl skittered away, her footsteps clattering on the bare wooden stairs. Seconds later, the sound of her bedroom door being slammed reverberated through the small cottage.

Martha turned back to her elder daughter. ‘Hatter’s Hall is the last place I would ever have wished you to work in,’ she said in an unsteady voice. ‘But happen it’s as well you’ve got the job. At least it will get you out from under your father’s feet while we decide what to do.’ She could scarcely believe that her Maria could have been so foolish. She had always been such a good, obedient daughter. But then perhaps that was the problem. Edward had always ruled her with a rod of iron, giving her no freedom whatsoever, so Lennie Glover with his sweet-talking tongue would have seemed like a being apart. And how could she be a hypocrite and judge her daughter when . . . She stopped her thoughts from going any further. There was no good to be gained by looking back into the past. She must look to the future now, whatever it might hold.

‘Come on, lass,’ she said in a stronger voice. ‘Let’s away and get your bundle packed up. The Good Lord will provide us with a solution.’

Praying that her mother was right, Maria followed her upstairs.

‘Now you be sure to come straight home on Sunday,’ Martha fussed as she pulled Maria’s shawl up over her glorious mass of thick fair hair early the next morning. She was aware that Edward was sitting at the table watching their farewell with a satisfied glint in his eye, and in the whole of their life together she had never been closer to telling him exactly what she thought of him. He seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in the fact that Maria was going to work in that awful place. And it
was
an awful place. Everyone in the village knew that. There were even those that would have gone to the workhouse before they would set foot in the grounds. But with things as they were . . .

Maria had already said her goodbyes to Henry before he left for his shift down the mine, and now she lifted her small bundle. Then after hugging Emma, who had got up early and was crying softly, she kissed her mother’s pale cheek before turning and saying, ‘Goodbye, Father.’

‘Be sure you bring the whole of your wages home,’ he said. ‘And no frittering any of it away.’

Seeing the anger spark in her mother’s eyes, Maria swiftly opened the door and left. There was no point in delaying.

Thankfully it had stopped snowing sometime during the night but it still lay deep upon the ground and within minutes Maria was breathless as she tramped through it. But for all that, she found pleasure in her surroundings as she moved along. The snow made the soot-covered roofs of the little pit cottages she passed look clean and bright, as if some great unseen hand had whitewashed everything in sight. Soon the cottages were left far behind her as she trudged on, and eventually the high walls surrounding Hatter’s Hall came into sight. Maria paused and pulled her shawl more tightly about her. This would be her home for the foreseeable future. Until Lennie came for her, that was. It was a daunting prospect.

Once again when she reached the gates the old man shuffled from his hut to open them, and when she had passed through them, he quickly closed and relocked them before disappearing back into the warmth of his shelter without a word. As Maria forced herself to move on she had never felt lonelier in her life but she was painfully aware that there could be no going back now.

It took her some minutes to walk the length of the long winding drive, and again the sight of the stark brick walls and dark shuttered windows struck terror into her heart. She had the urge to turn and run back home, but what would happen to her then, when her father discovered that she was to have a child? The way she saw it, she could either stay here or risk being sent to the workhouse – and at that moment, this seemed the better of the two options, though only slightly.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head, and this time when she neared the house she turned towards the servants’ entrance. The kitchen was a hive of activity as breakfast was being prepared, and the cook scarcely had time to look at her apart from to say, ‘Ah, there yer are then. Miss Belle said as we were to expect yer, lass. No doubt she’ll be here in a minute. Just sit over there an’ get warmed through while yer wait, eh?’

Cook had barely uttered the words when the Housekeeper walked into the room. Her eyes instantly settled on Maria and she smiled stiffly. ‘Ah, good. I am pleased to see that you are punctual, girl. Come with me.’

Maria did as she was told and in no time at all was following the woman through a labyrinth of corridors, her sodden boots echoing on the cold stone tiles. Every now and again the sound of a wail from some poor demented soul floated on the air and Maria gulped deep in her throat. There seemed to be locked doors everywhere she looked and she rightly guessed that this must be the part of the asylum where the lunatics were kept.

Sensing the girl’s unease, the Housekeeper looked over her shoulder with a semblance of a smile as she assured her, ‘Don’t worry. They are all safely locked away. They cannot harm you.’

Eventually they came to a large sweeping staircase, at the top of which was another locked door.

‘This is where our more elite guests are kept,’ Miss Belle informed her as she unlocked the door from a number of keys that dangled from a chatelaine about her waist.

Maria found herself in much more pleasant surroundings. There was wallpaper on the walls here, and fine carpets were scattered across the highly polished floorboards. A number of paintings in heavy gilt frames hung at regular intervals along the walls. Maria would have liked to stop to admire them but she resisted and followed Miss Belle meekly.

At last the woman stopped in front of a door, and lowering her voice she told her, ‘The young lady you will be serving is within. You will address her as Miss Isabelle and ask no questions. Her first name is all that you need to know about her. Is that quite clear?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The woman nodded and tapped at the door, which was opened almost immediately by the sternest-looking woman Maria had ever seen.

‘Ah, Mrs Bradshaw, you will be pleased to know that the girl who I told you was coming to relieve you has arrived,’ Miss Belle said primly. ‘This is Maria Mundy.’

Mrs Bradshaw eyed Maria from head to toe before she said in a low voice, ‘And good luck to you, Miss Mundy. This one has a temper on her the like of which I’ve not seen for many a long day. In you come, girl. She’s all yours.’

Maria cautiously stepped into the room. She found herself in a bedroom that made her gasp with admiration. A large four-poster bed surrounded by heavy damask drapes stood against one wall, although most of the drapes had been ripped down and were strewn across the floor. There was fine carved furniture polished to a mirrorlike shine, and on the mahogany dressing-table, a number of perfume bottles had been overturned, the combined scents making the air smell sickly-sweet. Beautiful clothes were scattered everywhere and in the deep bay window a chair lay on its side. In all, it looked as if a hurricane had swept through the room – but there was no sign of the occupant.

‘Miss Isabelle is through there in her sitting room,’ Mrs Bradshaw informed her. ‘From now on it will be your job to see to her every need. You will sleep in the adjoining room when Miss Isabelle is settled for the night – but you may not retire until you are quite sure she has no further need of you. Do you understand, girl?’