Little Girl Lost (29 page)

The staircase was dark and she fumbled her way down the two flights to the bar room. It was full of rowdy men and a few women who turned to look at her. Isaac was busy serving ale and she tried to catch his eye, not daring to venture past the crowd of men. Then a young serving girl pushed past and she asked her where she would find Mr Ramsey's private room.

The girl looked at her blankly. ‘Don't know any Mr Ramsey,' she said. ‘You'll have to ask Isaac.'

She started to move away, but Rosamund put out her hand. ‘Would you ask him, please? I can't get his attention.'

The girl hesitated, but there must have been something in Rosamund's voice that commanded her respect because she nodded and pushed her way to the landlord. After a moment Isaac came hurrying towards her.

‘Begging your pardon, ma'am. This way if you please.' He raised his voice. ‘Out the way, lads – let the lady through. Mind your backs and your manners. No foul language please, we have quality here.'

His voice had its effect and everyone stood back to make way, some of the men pulling off their caps and hats and some giving a little bow. She couldn't tell if they were mocking her or not, for she was afraid to meet their eyes. Isaac gave a perfunctory knock on a door and opened it to a room full of people. A table was set for supper, with a huge pie in the centre surrounded by several dishes of steaming vegetables and a large jug of ale.

‘Here she is at last,' William called out, coming towards her. His face was flushed and she wondered if he had had more than the one tankard of ale he had ordered. ‘Quiet, everybody. Kindly be upstanding for the beautiful Rosamund, who did me the great honour of becoming my wife only this morning.' Rosamund blushed as everyone stood and cheered and she was led to a seat at the head of the table.

‘Wine, landlord, the best that you have, to drink a toast to my lovely bride.' William pointed a wavering finger at her before bending over her and whispering beerily that he would introduce her to everyone all in good time. Sitting near her was a portly, bleary-eyed man who murmured a name she didn't catch and opposite him was a pretty but rather blowsy young woman with rouged cheeks, wearing a low-cut gown and purple feathers in her hair.

‘How d'ya do, Mrs Ramsey?' she purred. ‘Marie-Louise Jarvis, but everybody calls me Lou. I'm an old friend of Jack's. You're a friend of his sister, I understand?'

‘Yes, I am,' Rosamund murmured, leaning away as a young maid served her a very large portion of meat pie whilst Isaac hovered behind her with a carafe of wine. She was suddenly overwhelmed. This wasn't the way it was meant to be. She had thought that she and William would have a quiet supper together, during which they could have talked and got to know each other better. She looked about her at his choice of friends and knew that they could never be hers. The sooner I can persuade him to come and live in Hull the better, she decided.

As the evening wore on the voices grew louder and more clamorous as the ale and the wine flowed everywhere but into Rosamund's glass, for she refused any more after the first two. A headache was beginning and she wondered how soon she could make her escape. William was sprawled with his elbows on the table talking nineteen to the dozen, yet she hadn't had any conversation with him since she entered the room.

Eventually she got up; of her nearest neighbours, the man was asleep with his head on the table and gravy on his chin, and the woman Marie-Louise had gone to speak to another group and was sitting on someone's knee. She made her way towards William, who looked up as if he were surprised to see her. ‘I'm going up to the room, William,' she murmured into his ear. ‘I'm very tired.'

He closed his eyes momentarily and gave a nod, his head almost dropping to his chest. Then he blinked at her and blew out his cheeks. ‘Right,' he slurred. ‘I'll be up as soon as this lot have gone, which will be when the barrel runs dry.' He slapped her rump, making her jump. ‘Keep the bed warm for me.'

She opened the door and closed it behind her, steeling herself to face the crowded bar room. She dodged between the drinkers and no one stopped her or made a comment, but when she reached the stairs she had to negotiate her way past a couple sitting in a close embrace halfway up and a hand reached inside her skirt to clasp her ankle. She kicked out and rushed upstairs to the safety of their room, where she closed the door and put a chair against it as there was no lock.

She breathed in. This was a nightmare. Surely in the morning, please God, she would wake and know that it was.

Downstairs in the supper room, Marie-Louise saw Rosamund leave the room and went across to William and put her arms round his neck. He pulled her on to his knee and nuzzled into her shoulder.

‘Now then, Jack,' she murmured into his ear, ‘and you a newly married man, to a real lady no less.' She nibbled his ear lobe. ‘And you with a taste for something more hearty.'

He put his finger over her lips and she opened her mouth to enclose it. ‘We need to go up in the world,' he whispered. ‘We'll be all right, Lou, trust me.'

She sucked on his finger and said softly, ‘Promises! Well, you won't forget us on the way up, will you, Jack?'

The next morning Rosamund awoke to find she was alone in the bed and only on her side had the blankets been disturbed. She heaved a sigh of relief. William had obviously been too drunk to get up the stairs. Someone tapped on the door and a female voice called out that she had brought breakfast.

‘One moment, please.' Rosamund got out of bed and put a wrap round her shoulders before moving the chair and opening the door.

‘Mr Ramsey said he'd be up in a few minutes, ma'am. He's been seeing to the hosses.' The maid put a tray down on the bed. There was a pot of tea, a milk jug, two cups and several slices of toast.

‘Thank you.'

As the girl left, William came bounding up the stairs. ‘Good morning!' he said, as fresh faced as if he had never taken a drink in his life, and kissed her cheek. ‘You were fast asleep when I came up last night, so I didn't disturb you. I slept in the chair.'

‘Really?' She didn't believe him. He couldn't have got into the room without waking her, but she was grateful that he knew he had transgressed.

‘Come on then,' he said jovially. ‘Tea and toast and then a hearty breakfast before we go off to the races. I want to show off my beautiful wife. I think you'll bring me luck, so we'll have a flutter or two, eh? What do you think?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I've never been. Is it exciting?'

‘Nothing quite like it. And we'll make everyone sit up and take notice when we arrive in the curricle.'

And in spite of herself she couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm and hope that today would be better.

Downstairs, the inn was as busy as it had been on their arrival the day before. Adding to the babble of conversation was the crowing and cackle of cocks and hens, fastened in crates, and the yapping and warning growls of dogs tied beneath their masters' feet.

‘This is a favourite meeting place for the local farmers,' William shouted above the clamour. ‘It's where they seal their market deals.'

‘I see.' Rosamund followed him into the room where they had eaten supper. The table was laid for breakfast, and as she sat down the maid came in with fresh coffee. Isaac followed her with two plates of bacon, eggs, sausage and chops.

‘Thank you,' she murmured. ‘But I'm afraid I can't eat all that.'

‘Eat what you can and I'll finish it.' William was already reaching for the loaf of bread in the centre of the table and tearing off a chunk. ‘Best breakfast in York,' he grinned. ‘Isn't that right, Isaac?'

‘So I'm told, but not for me to say.' The landlord leaned towards him. ‘Put me a guinea on Brass Monkey, will you, Jack, and take the wager out of the winnings?'

‘Is it a good bet?' William asked, and when told that it was he agreed that he'd have a flutter too.

They set off after breakfast, William telling her how she was going to love it, and when they reached the Knavesmire Rosamund was quite thrilled with the atmosphere. Besides the racehorses and their trainers, there were more people than she had ever seen in her life, thronging the side shows that had been set up to entertain them with tumblers and clowns, and inspecting stalls selling trinkets and greasy-smelling food.

William found her a place near the rails and said he was going to put on some bets. ‘I'll be back in a minute. We always meet friends round here.'

Rosamund looked towards the grandstand. ‘Can we not sit down under cover?'

‘Not unless you've a few guineas to spare,' he said. ‘That's for the gentry, not the likes of us, unless you're very rich, Rosamund.' He smiled. ‘But we want to be in the midst of what's going on, don't we?'

He walked away towards a crowd of people clustered about a man in a very tall top hat who stood beside a large board with numbers and names written on it. Rosamund turned to lean on the fence and gazed down the long stretch of track. She hoped she was going to enjoy the day, but she couldn't help thinking that she'd rather be at home. She rather feared that her life was changing, and she wasn't at all sure it was for the better.

Someone was calling ‘Rosie, Rosie' and then ‘Rosamund'. She turned, and with a sinking heart saw Marie-Louise and her escort from the night before bearing down on her. That was when she knew for certain that life as she had known it was definitely changing for the worse.

Margriet had stood on the steps until the Percivals had turned the corner into Whitefriargate, before going inside and closing the door. She listened. There was not a sound in the house except for the chink of crockery coming from the kitchen. They'll be making a cup of tea now that everyone has gone.

She suddenly felt very alone and wondered what she might do. She'd brought several books home from the library, but she didn't want to read, not yet; she'd look at them tonight. She decided to go out and have a look around town, just as she used to with Papa. Maybe she would see the boy Billy and his friends.

She raced upstairs to change, ignoring what Mrs Percival had said. I'll run if I want to, she thought rebelliously. What did she know about anything? Taking off her muslin dress, she threw it on her bed and looked in her wardrobe. After a moment she brought out a plain skirt she had worn for school, a white blouse and her ‘everyday coat', as her mother called it, which was rather short for her now, coming down to mid-calf. She didn't care. She wouldn't see anyone she knew, except perhaps the Sandersons, and they wouldn't notice what she was wearing. In fact, she rather hoped that she might see Julia or Florrie and be invited to tea.

She crept downstairs, deciding that she wouldn't tell Mrs Simmonds that she was going out. She might try to stop her, or tell Jane to go with her, and she didn't want that. Quietly she opened the door and closed it behind her, glad that the kitchen window didn't look over the front of the street. She ran swiftly down the steps, and without in the least planning her route sped off in the direction of Land of Green Ginger.

Rosamund arrived home just after seven on the evening of the third day, hammering on the door because she didn't have a key. She had never needed one.

‘Prepare a hot bath immediately,' she told an astonished Jane, who had opened the door to her, ‘and tell my daughter I'm home.'

Jane dipped her knee. ‘Begging your pardon, ma'am, but Miss Margriet is out.'

‘Out! Out where? It's after seven o'clock!'

‘We think she's gone to 'fair, ma'am.'

‘What? Alone? Send Mrs Simmonds to me immediately.' Rosamund dropped the blanket she was carrying on the floor, took off her coat and hat and threw those on top of it. ‘What on earth is happening? The world has gone mad.' She put her hands to her head; she was shaking with fear and anger and with the battering she had had in the coach from York.

She hadn't expected to spend two whole days at the races. On the evening of the second day William had been very downcast and she guessed that he had lost heavily on the horses. As he drove them back to the inn she had told him she would like to go home. He'd muttered that it was too late now and she replied sharply that she knew that but would like to return to Hull the following day.

‘No,' he'd said. ‘You don't understand. We can't! These are the last races of the season. I have to make up my losses.'

‘And I have a young daughter at home,' she had replied coldly. ‘I wish to return.'

He hadn't looked at her but stared straight over the horses' heads as he told her that in that case she would have to catch the coach, as he was going to stay.

She had been shocked. At first she couldn't believe what he was saying, but glancing at him she saw that he was quite serious and not speaking in jest. ‘Very well,' she had said, hoping that he would change his mind. ‘That is what I will do.'

But he didn't change his mind. He told her he would escort her to the afternoon diligence and make sure she was safely on board before he left her. Except that he didn't, and had asked the landlord to escort her as he'd left early for the races; nor had he told her that the coach journey would take six hours. This information was given to her by Isaac, who was most attentive to her well-being; having discovered that she had not travelled alone before, he had packed a parcel of bread and ham to save her the effort of competing for attention when the coach stopped for refreshments.

She had done some serious thinking as she travelled, huddled beneath the blanket that Margriet had so thoughtfully suggested she bring, and concluded that the only thing in her new husband's favour was that he had not yet ventured into her bed. She would tell him that he could live in York if he pleased but that she would stay in Hull and he could visit her whenever he felt so inclined. She would not give him the opportunity of saying that she refused to live with him.