For a Father's Pride (21 page)

She felt every bump of the road and sighed with relief and anguish that they had started to climb the rough path to Grouse Hall. She’d not been back there since Kitty’s wedding day
and knew she had a lot to explain, but she would have to play the whole situation by ear. How much, or how little, did Kitty know? What had her parents said about her disappearance from home?

The horse and cart pulled up outside the long, dark shape of Grouse Hall. A dim lamp shone in the window of what she knew to be the parlour. It flickered for a moment and then disappeared as
Daisy climbed out of the cart, her whole body shaking with the cold.

‘Thank you,’ she said to the old man who had driven her down the dale. ‘Are you not coming in to warm yourself?’

Another spit of tobacco and saliva was the answer, and then a few words. ‘Nay, you’ll not get me in there, no matter how cold the weather is. It’ll be worse in
there.’

He turned the horses round with another flick of his reins and made his way back down the track, leaving Daisy standing in the snow with her meagre possessions.

She looked around her, hardly able to make out the shape of the opposite valley sides, and then at the long, dark, gloomy house of Grouse Hall. Oh well, she’d have to make the best of it
and face what was to be. She picked up her belongings and made her way down the flagged path to the porchway. The previously broken gate and crumbling walls of the garden had now all but
disappeared, telling Daisy that there hadn’t been much money or love spent on the Middleton family home. She stepped up into the dry limestone porch and felt sick as she reached for the brass
door knocker, which was in the shape of a fox’s head. The last thing she wanted was for Clifford to greet her. She couldn’t face him – not yet; not until she knew how much Kitty
knew of her family’s actions.

The door opened and a flickering oil lamp lit up the face of its holder.

‘So, you’ve had to come home then. After all your selfish trailings, you’ve had to bury your pride and be looked after by your kin.’

Daisy recognized the voice immediately – it was her sister Kitty’s. But where was the rosy-cheeked, beautiful blonde woman she had left behind on that wedding day? Even by the light
of the dim lantern, she could see how gaunt Kitty was. And why did she have an almost venomous tone to her voice? Daisy had always loved Kitty deeply, and in years past her sister would never have
accused her of being selfish or proud.

‘Kitty, it is so good to see you again. I’m in your debt for letting me come and stay with you.’ Daisy wanted to hug her sister, but she sensed things had changed between them,
even though her letter had been warm and had welcomed Daisy with open arms into her household.

‘Aye, well, put the wood in t’ hole. I’m not keeping this door open for ever and letting this winter weather in.’ She closed the door against the winter chill.

Daisy picked up her bags quickly and followed Kitty into the darkness of Grouse Hall. She was shown the way by the rustling skirts of her sister and the dim golden light of her oil lamp.

‘You needn’t think I’ve made you any supper – we’re not made of money, like the posh family you’ve come from, so I hope you’ve eaten.’ Kitty
turned and looked at her younger sister. She hated Daisy for leaving her in the dale with a husband who treated her as little more than a slut, and with parents who had wanted constant attention,
while Daisy herself had the life of a free spirit, going where she wanted and with whom she wanted, only returning home when she thought she was ill and near death. ‘When you wrote, I thought
you were nearly on your deathbed, but you look well enough to me.’

‘I’ve eaten earlier in the day, so it’s no problem, Kitty dear. I’m feeling a lot better now. William sat beside me day and night for a week, nursing me back to health. I
still feel weak, but I don’t think I’m on my deathbed any more.’ Daisy felt she wasn’t wanted, and yet Kitty’s letter had not come across like that.

‘William? Who’s William, and why couldn’t you stay with him?’ Kitty hovered with the lamp. The way it shone made her face look like a phantom.

‘He was my boss, and was married with a wife and family. A better man you could not find this side of Leeds.’

‘So you were his strumpet who got in the way – that’s why you are back to us with your tail between your legs.’ Kitty turned and looked at her younger sister.

‘No, Kitty, it’s not like that. I was genuinely ill. I nearly died, and probably would have done, if he had let his wife continue looking after me. I swear I think she poisoned
me!’ Daisy had not said it out loud before, but now that she was away from the Middleton household she dared to.

‘Well, you keep your eyes to yourself while you are under this roof. I remember that you used to flutter your eyelashes at Clifford before we were married. No self-respecting sister would
keep away from her newly wed sister for months, then run away from home because she was jealous.’ Kitty spat out the words as she mounted the creaking stairs up to the bedrooms.
‘You’re in Clifford’s father’s bedroom. He died while you were sulking over my marriage.’ She turned the key in the lock and bade Daisy enter the cold, unwelcoming
room.

‘Kitty, I’m sorry. It’s true that I made eyes at Clifford, but I was young and foolish then. I’d never come between you and your husband. But you’ve been told
wrongly about me sulking, and why I left Grisedale – please believe me. One day I’ll be able to tell you, but not now.’ Daisy didn’t know if she was thankful her sister
didn’t know the truth, but at the same time her parents had made up a complete pack of lies to cover her true plight.

‘I’ll think what I want. Why should our parents lie to me?’ Kitty bent and lit a small piece of candle that stood in a square brass candlestick by the side of the bed.
‘Don’t burn it long. This’ll have to last you all week, for we aren’t made of money. And lock your door. Clifford will be back later tonight, providing the snow stops
falling, and he’ll have his hunting mates with him, who can get a bit rowdy.’

Daisy stood by the side of the bed watching her sister disappear with the lamp.

‘Oh and, Daisy, Clifford likes his breakfast as soon as it’s light. You might as well earn your keep while you are under our roof.’ And with that she left, leaving her sister
alone in the dim room.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Daisy looked around her. The small stub of candle flickered and danced as a draught from the rotten window blew across the room. It was freezing, and the room
smelled damp and fusty. The covers on the bed felt damp, and the fire in the fireplace was not lit; nothing made Daisy feel welcome. The one good thing was that Kitty was definitely oblivious as to
why she had left home. Perhaps it was best that she left Kitty thinking it had been jealousy that had caused her to leave. Her sister would soon see how Daisy felt about the dastardly Clifford
– there would be no love lost there.

She picked up the candle and stared out of the window. She could see nothing but the occasional solitary snowflake that flickered down too near to the window to survive, and her own ghostly
reflection in the glass. She was tired and hungry. She’d lied to her sister; she’d not eaten since early morning, and now the hunger, cold and tiredness were getting the better of her.
She moved across to the door and locked it; the last thing she wanted was Clifford entering her room in the middle of the night.

She shivered; it was too cold to undress, and so she wrapped her cloak around her and climbed into bed. Lying there, she wondered if the bed had been changed since old Middleton had died –
from the smell of it, she doubted it. She shivered again and pulled the covers tightly around her. Why had she come home? Things were worse here than anything she’d put up with in Leeds. If
she’d kept her distance from Angelina, she would have survived. The little bit of warmth from the covers gradually made her dozy and soon she felt her eyes closing. Perhaps in the light of
day things would look better.

Voices from the room below made Daisy wake suddenly. It was not yet light, and she stared into the darkness as she heard a man laugh loudly from the room below her.

‘Come on, Middleton, you know we know your hand. Put it down and let’s get it over and done with, so that we can be away before the cock cries.’ The deep, booming voice of a
man she was not familiar with could be heard above the rest.

Then she heard her brother-in-law’s voice and it made her shiver. She had not heard it since that fateful wedding day.

‘Damn you, Oversby. I’m sure these cards are fixed. How else do you keep winning?’ She heard Clifford Middleton’s chair scrape across the stone flags as he rose in
frustration. ‘You’ll have to wait for your brass – all I’ve got is on the table. I’ll make it right on market day at Hawes, come Tuesday.’

‘Aye, and I’m the Devil himself. How many times have I heard that from you? If you haven’t the brass, don’t play. You never learn, do you?’

A third voice could be heard. ‘Let’s away, Josh, it’s bloody freezing in here and it’s still blowing a blizzard. I’m away to my bed and my wife to warm
me.’

‘Middleton, I’ll take three ewes in payment. Fetch them up to Yore House when this weather breaks. And make sure they’re not geld. You owe me more than three barren sheep, and
well you know it.’

Daisy listened as the two other card players mounted their horses outside her window. Clifford swore at their departure and kicked out at something in the kitchen, making it crash onto the
floor. She heard his footsteps coming up the stairway along the landing, and stopping short before her doorway. The adjoining bedroom door creaked and slammed shut behind him, and then she heard
him climb into bed and demand sex from her sister. As she heard the knocking of the bedstead against the crumbling walls, she knew Clifford Middleton had not changed his habits since she had been
gone. Indeed, if anything he had become worse. The cries of her sister, and the fact that he was paying his debts with farm stock, told her all she needed to know: Clifford Middleton was still a
complete bastard. How could she stay at the hellhole of Grouse Hall? But how could she leave her sister now? She must regain Kitty’s trust and make her strong enough to leave Clifford.

In the cold light of dawn Daisy was still awake. As she had listened to Clifford and his lovemaking, the memories of the afternoon when she’d given herself so unwillingly
had come flooding back to her. Never again, she knew better now.

She rose from her bed and looked around the room. It was sparse, and the walls that took the brunt of the north winds were green with mould, while the wall connected to the barn and cowshed was
in need of pointing, with a crack that ran the full height of the wall. She ran her fingers down the rubble-filled crack. She could just about smell the hay in the barn over the damp of the room.
It was a comforting smell, reminding her of summer days spent playing with her older sister in the hay fields of the dale; days when they had picked wild flowers and caught tiddlers in the River
Clough, then returned home only when they were hungry or when the day was drawing to a close. Where had those days gone? They had been over all too soon, and the dark days of puberty had taken
their place.

What a fool she had been. And how cruel her parents had been. She wasn’t the first innocent lass to have a child out of wedlock, and she wouldn’t be the last. The shame was
Clifford’s, and well she knew it. The unmarked grave under the apple tree back home was his doing, and she prayed to God that she’d never forget it. She shivered as she looked out of
the window. The skies were grey, and the dale outside was covered with a white blanket of snow. It looked as if another blizzard was on its way. How different from the sheltered streets of Leeds.
Her mind wandered back to the city: Freddie would be lighting the fire at the shop and grooming Ginger; Angelina the witch would be feeding her Charlie; and William would be getting ready for
another day of business. And Jim? Oh! Would Jim be waking up in the arms of Susie? She guessed so and her heart felt heavy. How could she have been so daft as to have set her cap at that man. It
seemed she’d not learned anything after all.

Fearing the wrath of her sister, she quietly unlocked her bedroom door, thanking the Lord that she had a key to secure it with. She hid it in her skirt pocket – at least she’d be
safe at night. She made her way down the dark, creaking stairs. The handrail was nearly black with the age of the bog-oak from which it was carved, and it was as smooth as a baby’s bottom
with the passage of time and with the hands that had run back and forth over it. It came to an end in two snarling carved lions on either side of the stairway, showing that Grouse Hall had been a
residence of some importance in years past. Now it was just a farmhouse, in need of drastic attention to stop the wind blowing through the cracks and the damp seeping into its occupants’
bones.

The hallway was flagged with sandstone flags that had been rubbed smooth with the century’s passage of feet, and the walls were panelled in the same bog-oak as the staircase, making it
dark, with the only light coming in from an arched window at the end of the passage. In the heavy, grey light of the winter’s morning Daisy felt her way along the edge of a wooden settle that
was the only piece of furniture in the hallway. She knew where the kitchen was, from previous visits, and made for the last door along the passage. Passing the door where the early-morning card
game had taken place, she noted the empty beer flagons and the chair that had obviously been in the way of Clifford’s temper.

The kitchen was pitch-black when she entered. The wooden shutters blocked any light from entering, except for the thinnest sliver of grey light that picked up dust particles playing and dancing
for Daisy’s amusement. She made for the huge oak door and pulled the heavy bolt back, throwing the door open to the morning’s light. She shivered in the cold blast of January’s
morning air. It was fresh as the ice that covered the horse-trough and it hurt her lungs as she breathed in deeply. How she’d missed the sight that lay in front of her: the glisten of frost
on snow-covered grass, and the shimmering rolling dale, broken up only by a wooded copse and the straight lines of the slave-built drystone walls. She was home. How she’d missed it. She
hadn’t realized until now, but her heart had yearned to come home, while her head had been content with her city life.