Calico Road (22 page)

‘What that young woman needs is a husband.’

He didn’t say any more but those words left Sophia prey to more worries. Surely he wasn’t going to force Harriet into marriage? If he did, her sister would never speak to her kindly again.

That evening as they ate their meal in the soft glow of several ornate colza oil lamps, Jethro asked suddenly, ‘Are you well enough to entertain visitors to a meal and an overnight stay?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Suddenly she could hold the words back no longer, even if she angered him. ‘You keep trying to protect me and I keep telling you I’m feeling well. It’s the
boredom
which upsets me more than anything else. I think I’m going mad lately because you won’t even let me leave the house half the time.’

Another of those long, level looks then Jethro said quietly, ‘Well, this’ll give you something to do for now and we’ll think about other ways of occupying you afterwards. I want to invite my father’s friend Andrew Beardsworth to visit us. He came to the wedding, but I don’t think you really talked to him. He’s another who has risen in the world. And best of all for our purpose, he’s a widower looking for a wife. So we’ll invite your sister too.’

‘Harriet?’

‘Do you have any other sisters?’

Sophia was struggling to understand this new turn of events. ‘You’re trying to find a husband for her?’

‘Why not? I’ve heard her say she wants to wed, heard it more than once. I won’t force her into anything, but the connection with Andrew Beardsworth would be useful to me.’

‘I wish I could remember him better.’

‘He’s a little shorter than your sister, I should guess, and owns a thriving mill so he’s very comfortably circumstanced. I don’t know him very well, though, because he was my father’s friend rather than mine.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Forty. He has two children of twelve and ten. Daughters. Very polite children. He keeps them in order, as I shall keep ours. His wife died eighteen months ago and I know he’d like a son and heir before it’s too late.’ Jethro paused, steepled his fingers and looked at her again in that assessing way. ‘Do you want me to tell your sister about him or shall you do it?’

‘Let me.’

He inclined his head and picked up his knife and fork again.

‘What would you do if I had hysterics, ranted at you, threw things?’ Sophia demanded suddenly. This eerie calmness of Jethro’s annoyed her sometimes. Most of the time, actually. It was as if, outside their bedroom, he wore a mask. She still didn’t feel she really knew him. Oh, she knew his body – knew it well – but she had no idea what went on inside his mind.

‘If you had hysterics I’d probably empty the water jug over you.’

‘And suppose that didn’t calm me down?’

‘Then I’d slap your face.’ He put down his knife and fork and stared at her. ‘Is this a serious question? Do you feel hysterical?’

‘No. Just bored.’

‘Yes. So you said. I will do something about that, I promise. Your fretting could upset the child growing inside you.’

What about me? she wanted to scream at him. Don’t you care about upsetting me, or is it all for the child?

But she didn’t say it. She had just enough self-control left to keep those words inside her head. Jethro was, by everyone else’s standards, a very good husband and provider. Was she wrong to want more from him?

After some thought Sophia sent a message to Harriet asking her to come and visit, staying overnight. She mentioned that a friend of Jethro’s would also be visiting them but didn’t include their mother in the invitation or mention the reason for the visit.

She found herself pacing up and down the parlour as she waited for her sister, feeling unaccountably nervous. When the carriage drew up outside, all mud-splashed, she muttered, ‘At last!’ and went out into the hall to welcome her.

In the parlour Harriet went to warm her hands at the blazing fire. ‘It’s cold out. Winter is upon us now.’ She pulled a wry face at her sister. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to get away from Mother for a few hours. She fusses over things till I could scream.’

Sophia was impatient of this small talk. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Sit down and listen.’ She explained rapidly about Jethro’s friend and the possibility that this Andrew Beardsworth was looking for a wife.

Harriet grew thoughtful.

‘Well, have you nothing to say?’

‘What is there to say until I’ve met him? I only vaguely remember him from your wedding. If he’s at all presentable, I’d be very amenable to considering marriage. There’s no one suitable in our acquaintance, and anyway, your Jethro is right. They
are
inbred. This might be a golden opportunity for me, though I’m sorry he already has children, even if they are only girls.’

‘Hasn’t
anyone
ever asked you to marry them, Harriet? I’d have thought the dowry Jethro could provide would have made a difference.’

‘Oswin asked me.’

‘
What? When did he do that?
’

‘A month after your marriage. Once word got round that there might be a dowry attached to me now. Though actually, Jethro hasn’t provided anything yet except the promise of one.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Oswin before?’

Harriet shrugged. ‘It might have upset you and I didn’t think Jethro would like that.’

Sophia threw up her hands in despair. ‘Can you do nothing without his approval?
You
aren’t married to him, after all.’

‘We’re dependent on him and I wouldn’t care to cross him. He’s very – forceful.’ She frowned at her sister, and after a moment’s hesitation asked, ‘What’s it like, being married to a stranger? What’s it like in bed?’

Sophia gaped at her, feeling a hot blush rising up her neck and face. ‘What sort of question is that?’

‘The sort I’ve been wondering about for a while because I’ve been considering whether to ask Jethro to find me a husband. He did half-promise to once, after all.’ Harriet waited, head cocked on one side, then prompted, ‘Well, what
is
it like?’

‘Jethro is very – um – considerate in bed. I think other men aren’t always like that. He’s polite and – and kind to me outside the bedchamber, too.’ In spite of herself, Sophia added, ‘But I still don’t feel I know him. He keeps his thoughts to himself most of the time.’

There was silence while she tried to recover her composure and Harriet stared thoughtfully into the fire.

‘I shouldn’t mind not knowing my husband very well,’ she said eventually. ‘It’d be a small price to pay for being married and having a home of my own. I hate it when people pity me for being unmarried at twenty-six.’

They were interrupted by a maid bringing in a tray laden with tea things, followed by another carrying plates of small cakes and scones.

When Sophia had served her sister, she asked hesitantly, ‘What shall I tell Jethro?’

‘I’ll tell him myself that the idea of marriage pleases me. I loathe living with our mother, especially now you’ve gone, and I’ll do anything to avoid having to spend the rest of my life serving her.’

‘She speaks as if it’s settled that you’ll stay with her.’

‘Yes. But I won’t if I can help it.’ Harriet smiled suddenly. ‘We’ll leave your Jethro to deal with her if anything comes of his plans because I’m sure she’ll object to the mere idea of my getting married. But she won’t dare go against him. For the moment I’ll just say I was invited to dinner tonight to make the numbers even and let her think there were other people here as well.’

Meg left for Northby early the following morning, on foot, carrying Nelly and a pitifully small bundle of clothing for the pair of them. She was ashamed to go home with so little, but she’d be even more ashamed to be sent home by the poorhouse guardians.

The weather was bitterly cold but she had Nelly wrapped up warmly in her pink shawl and she hoped to get a ride on a farm cart for part of the way at least. But no one stopped for her although she called out to them, so she continued to set one foot in front of the other.

The first evening she had a bit of luck. A woman about to turn into a lane stopped to greet her, studied her shrewdly then asked if she’d eaten that day. She was surprised when the bundle Meg was carrying in her arms moved and a baby peered out.

‘Nay, lass, were you intending to keep walking all night? What about the babby?’

Meg looked at her, so cold it took her a minute to think out an answer. ‘I have to get to Northby. No one would stop for me. So I’ve kept on walking.’

The woman clicked her tongue in dismay. ‘Here, give me your other bundle. You can sleep in my kitchen tonight and I’ll find some milk for the babby.’

It was like going to heaven to sit in front of a warm fire while Nelly smiled and cooed at the old woman who had taken them in.

‘I’m grateful,’ Meg said, surprised at how faint her voice was. ‘Very grateful indeed.’

‘If we can’t help one another, we’re poor sorts. I haven’t much, but I’ve enough to share with you tonight.’

‘I must leave early in the morning, make the most of the daylight.’

The old woman nodded. ‘I s’ll pray for you – and for your little lass.’

The second day Meg felt a little better and she now had some bread for Nelly, at least. The old woman had said it was for both of them, but Meg would happily do without for the pleasure of seeing her child fed. Only one cart stopped for her, and the driver could only set her a couple of miles along her way, but it was a help. After that she hardly saw a soul, but managed to keep walking for most of the day.

That night she sneaked into a barn and lay in the warm hay till morning.

When the farmer found her he chased her away, called her a ‘dirty beggar’. But when Nelly cried in terror at the loud voice he stopped, muttering, ‘And a baby too! Shame on you.’

Meg was ashamed. Deeply. But what else could she do now?

After that it was just a matter of grim endurance, putting one foot in front of the other. As it grew dark she was surprised to realise she recognised this place. Northby, the top end, near the mill where she’d once worked.

She’d made it!

‘I got us here, Nelly,’ she whispered in a hoarse voice, shaken by a bout of shivering. ‘Just another few minutes an’ we’ll be there.’

When she stood outside the house, though, she hesitated, suddenly afraid to knock. But it had to be done, so she raised one hand, letting the bundle of clothes slip. The knock didn’t sound very loud. She waited but no one came to the door. Maybe they hadn’t heard. Raising her hand again, she did her best but hadn’t the strength to knock really loudly.

This time it opened and Jack stood there. She said his name then blackness took her and she knew no more until she regained consciousness lying on the rug in front of the fire, with him holding her in his arms.

She let them do as they wanted with her then. They fed the baby and they fed her some broth. Even her mother spoke gently to her.

When she’d finished her tale, Jack said, ‘Nay, why should you go into the poorhouse when you’ve allus got a home with us? You did right to come here.’

Then Meg knew she and Nelly were truly safe and could let herself slip into sleep.

11

I
t took a while for Meg to regain her energy, even though she was eating regularly now. She and her daughter were living in the front room and she spent a lot of time just lying on the bed in there, too weary to do much but care for her child.

But gradually she started to feel better and began helping with the housework or going for short walks on fine days with Nelly in her arms. Most of the time her mother ignored her, hardly saying a word unless she wanted a job done, and that suited Meg just fine. Jack talked to her in the evenings, though, and she to him. Those gentle conversations made the heaviness in her chest lighten, the pain of her husband’s death start to fade and gave her hope for the future. Eh, he was a wonderful brother, Jack was!

In mid-December her mother started making sharp remarks about having to stretch the food to fill two more mouths. It had surprised Meg that no such remarks had been tossed at her earlier, but perhaps even Netta could tell when something was impossible.

If she was to start work her mother would have to look after Nelly, something that worried Meg greatly. Even though Nelly too had recovered and was at a delightful age, gurgling and waving her fists at anyone who paid her some attention, Netta never picked her up voluntarily. Ginny, Joe and Jack were always cuddling her though, and the baby got excited at the mere sight of them. Even Shad deigned to stop and have a word with his little niece every now and then.

Meg agonised about leaving Nelly in her mother’s care but felt she had no alternative. She would have to stay in Northby to get the help she needed, but more important, she wanted her daughter to be near the rest of the Staleys. A person could be killed in a snap of the fingers, it seemed, so there had to be other family around – just in case – for Nelly’s own sake.

One day Meg waited till everyone had gone to work or school then asked her mother to sit down and talk to her.

‘I can’t sit and gossip like some do,’ Netta said at once.

‘It’s important.’ Meg hesitated, then asked right out, ‘If I find myself a job, will you look after Nelly for me?’

‘What other choice do we have? But I’ll only do it if you hand over your money to me like the others do.’

There was silence then Meg nodded – reluctantly.

Netta’s expression brightened but quickly grew sour again. ‘They’re not taking anyone on at the mill.’

‘I know. I’ve already asked about that. I thought I’d walk round Northby today and see if I can find another sort of job, only I need you to mind Nelly while I do that. Folk don’t like to take you on if you’ve a baby in your arms.’

‘You’re right there. Eh, you’d have been better not marrying in the first place, but would you listen to me? No.’