The Favourite Child (9 page)

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Authors: Freda Lightfoot

Tags: #Romance, #Historical Saga, #Fiction

BOOK: The Favourite Child
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‘I just wish I knew a bit more about her.’

‘What is there to know? Stop worrying,’ And kissing her father on his whiskered cheek, pushed him gently in the direction of the door. ‘Go on. Get on with your paperwork, or read the
Manchester Chronicle
, whatever it is you do in that study of yours. Everything will work out fine, you’ll see.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ was all Simeon said, looking anxious. ‘But we’ll soon find out either way, I dare say.’

They found out the following morning when Edward stood before his parents, the one ashen-faced, the other beetroot red with fury, and calmly informed them that he had indeed asked Jinnie to marry him and that she had accepted. Furthermore, since he was of age, there was nothing they could do about the matter.

‘I have no wish for my wedding to be a hole-in-the-corner affair,’ he continued, standing firm. ‘You wanted me to wed Mother so, ever the obedient son, I mean to do so.’

As Emily made little choking noises, Simeon patted his wife’s heaving shoulders and faced his son with a barely contained anger. ‘I’ve never heard anything so stupid in all my life. Apart from any other reason, the lass is too young. Barely sixteen. I’ll not have you throw away everything we’ve worked for all our lives. A good future for you in the mill. A place in society. All you could rightly expect from life for some young chit.’

‘All
you
expected of me,’ Edward corrected Simeon but his face too was pale and drawn with tension.

It was clear to Bella that the question of Jinnie’s age had never entered her brother’s head and she went to give his arm a comforting squeeze. ‘Pa does have a point. She’s little more than a child and you’ve known her only a few short weeks. Why don’t you allow more time to get to know each other a little better.’

‘That’s the ticket,’ Simeon agreed, snatching at the possibility of a postponement at least. ‘You both need time to know your own minds.’

‘I don’t
need
time
. I know my own mind well enough.’ Edward’s pale, lean face took on a hunted expression and Bella s heart ached for him.

‘I’m sure you do,’ she hastily put in, throwing her father a fierce glance to silence him. ‘But this is all new to Jinnie. She needs time to adjust, to grow up a little. At sixteen she doesn’t even know who
she
is yet, let alone what she wants from life. It’s our duty and responsibility to help her to find employment, get strong and healthy, make her way in the world.’

‘You mean in
our
world.’

‘That’s not entirely what I meant but it’s true that you and Jinnie do come from hugely different backgrounds. Get engaged if you must, but the wedding should wait until she’s older. Two years might be about right.’


Two years
!’

Ignoring his protest Bella pressed on. ‘If Mother would agree, we could let her make a home with us, see that she is safe and well. It could be by way of a trial, or experiment: to give Jinnie time to mature a little as well as to make sure that you are both compatible. Marriage is for life after all.’

‘Quite so.’ This from Emily who appeared strangely calm. While Simeon stood in his favourite position by the empty grate, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as if at any moment he might catapult across the room and punch his son on the chin; Emily surprised them all by agreeing without protest to what she would otherwise have considered an outrageous suggestion. Perhaps because she believed two years would be ample time for her son to grow tired of this capricious notion.

Edward, however, was not appeased. ‘I think it would be presumptuous. I don’t need any - experiment - to know that I’m in love with Jinnie and want her for my wife. What’s more, she has admitted to loving me, so I don’t give a brass farthing if she isn’t
middle-class
.’

Emily’s eyes seemed not to be entirely focused as she confronted her son. ‘Sneer as you may but being middle-class is the life she would have to lead as your wife. She would have standards to maintain, social engagements, a diary of charitable functions to fulfil, a house to run and you expect this - this
street urchin
to be a suitable candidate for such tasks?’

Edward gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to hang on to his patience. ‘Those are tasks that
you
have chosen to do, Mother. Jinnie can make her own choices.’

‘They are
duties
! Your father isn’t just some tomfool overlooker, he’s the mill manager no less, with a position, nay status to maintain.
You are out of your head
if you imagine I will
ever
accept that girl, a trollop with a man for every day of the week I shouldn’t wonder, as
my
daughter-in-law. The very idea is monstrous!’

‘Nevertheless I will not give her up Mother. I mean to marry Jinnie without delay.’ Emily completely lost control and let out a great wail of distress as if the very idea of it were too dreadful to bear.

Bella hastily intervened, ‘I’m sure she isn’t like that at all, Mother. She’s really very sweet and can’t help being poor as a church mouse.’ Emily simply wailed all the louder.

‘Now then, let’s all try to keep calm, shall we?’ Simeon pronounced in his most pompous tones, looking about him in flustered desperation as if praying for deliverance when in fact no one seemed to be even listening to him.

Emily was certainly beyond listening to anyone. ‘I want that girl out of my house
this instant
!’

‘If she goes, then I go with her,’ Edward shouted back.

‘Happen it would be best if we set the subject to one side for a bit,’ Simeon suggested, attempting once more to placate, muffling Emily’s wails with a large white handkerchief as he fussed about her.’ What d’you say to that, eh? We’ll all sleep on it for a day or two. Take a breather, as it were.’

‘Two years isn’t very long, Edward. Besides, it will take Mother at least that time to plan the perfect wedding for you,’ Bella soothed, throwing a teasing smile in Emily’s direction to soften the words. It was not returned.

Edward’s expression was bleak as he watched his mother’s obvious distress, but Bella could see that he was weakening. ‘Two years! It seems like a life time.’

‘It’ll fly by. Till then you could walk out together, court her in the time-honoured way. Don’t you think Jinnie deserves that much at least?’

Edward cast his sister a sheepish smile. ‘I suppose I was denying her a bit of courting and I do want Jinnie to have the best wedding that money can buy. A proper bridal gown and everything.’ He was clearly warming to the scheme so that he didn’t recognise the glazed expression that still lingered in his mother’s eyes as he dropped a kiss on to her brow. ‘Two years then, and not a day longer. But we marry the minute Jinnie reaches eighteen, not a day later. She has no family of any sort, so you can stand in for her till then Ma, and be the mother she badly needs.’

‘You expect me to be that trollop’s
mother
?’ Emily spluttered. It was the last straw. Anyone would have thought he’d asked her to dance naked in St Peter’s Square, so shocked was she by the suggestion. But it was clear there were to be no further arguments. The matter, so far as Edward was concerned, was settled.

 

His half demented mother was carried to her bed and tucked in with a hot water bottle. Bella administered a sleeping draft while Simeon declared she’d be as right as ninepence in the morning, before escaping to his study.

Not when she learns that all her fears are well founded, Bella ruefully admitted to herself.

On her way up to bed, she peeped in on Jinnie and found her sleeping as soundly as a child, which was what she still was in a way: an irresistible combination of emotional vulnerability coupled with a worldly wisdom beyond her years. She seemed so frail and tiny in the huge bed, arms flung back upon the pillows, elfin face with its violet bruises beneath the closed lids seeming even more marked in the dim light cast from the lamp Bella carried.

‘Mother would not hesitate to throw you out on the streets if she knew about the abortion,’ she told the sleeping girl. Bella couldn’t even be certain how Edward would react when he learned the truth about the “accident”. Yet it couldn’t be kept from him indefinitely, not if he truly meant to marry her. He was sufficiently conservative to want a traditional family life, something which Jinnie could never provide.

‘You must tell him in the morning,’ Bella whispered, before quietly slipping out of the room and softly closing the door.

Whether or not Jinnie would have summoned the courage to reveal the truth about herself the next morning was not put to the test. Sometime during the night Bella awoke to find her father shaking her by the shoulder in obvious agitation.

‘It’s your mother, lass. She’s not well. Not well at all. She’s taken a bad turn in the night. I’ve sent for the doctor.’

It seemed that when Simeon had finally gone to his bed, after a stiff whisky or two in the quiet of his study, Emily had again started raging and railing over her inconsiderate son. She’d complained bitterly about Edward’s utter selfishness, the lure of evil women and got herself into such a lather of distress that she’d fallen back onto the pillows jabbering nonsense, her twitching body suddenly gripped by a seizure.

Emily Ashton had apparently suffered a stroke. The doctor who issued this damning diagnosis was not their usual family practitioner but his new partner, Dr Nathaniel Lisle, and for that reason alone Simeon refused to accept it.

‘Utter poppycock!’ was his immediate reaction. ‘My wife is as fit as a flea and always has been.’ Then he turned upon his son, standing bemusedly by the bed in his dressing gown and carpet slippers. ‘This is all your fault, you and your damned notions of fancy weddings to some guttersnipe you know nothing about. Look what a proper pickle you’ve got us all in.’

Edward recoiled, as if he’d been struck, beside himself with guilt and no matter how much Bella assured him that the seizure may well have happened anyway, he refused to be comforted. It was only when he found Jinnie on the front doorstep, attempting to sneak away that he pulled himself together sufficiently to beg her not to leave him, for how could they be blamed for falling in love?

‘I need you more than ever now, Jinnie.’

‘But you’d be better off without me,’ Jinnie told him though her tears. ‘I’ve brought nowt but trouble, like your ma says.’

‘Stuff and nonsense. I mean to buy you an engagement ring and marry you just as soon as you’re old enough. Bella thinks we should wait till you’re eighteen and I’m not against the idea, now that I’ve had time to think on it. Can you wait that long? We could walk out together, get to know each other better. I’ll take such good care of you, dear Jinnie. Do please say that you will. How could I face life without you beside me.’

‘You don’t ever have to try,’ Jinnie said, and the pair clung together, kissing away the tears as they held each other tight in a warm embrace. In spite of his mother’s stroke, not for one moment was Edward prepared to risk losing her.

Over the days following, the nature of Emily’s plight became all too apparent. She lay in her bed quite unable to move, hands curled into furious fists, mouth twisted in a macabre leer, above which blazed a pair of eyes dark with anger.

Not knowing how to put things right, Simeon sat day after day in his study, head in hands, refusing even to go to the mill. Anxious-looking clerks hovered in the hall but he refused to receive any of them. His life had fallen apart. It took all of Bella’s tact and persuasion to persuade him to carry on.

‘Where would any of us be if the mill were to go bust and you were to be blamed for it? You have to go to work Pa, if only to see that others are doing what they are paid to do. Mother won’t even notice you are gone, since you now have to sleep in the dressing room.’

‘She may need me.’

‘I shall be there to see to her.’ With sinking heart, Bella thought this could well prove to be her lot in life from now on. Though she and her mother had never been close, it was more than she could bear to see her like this. Bella abandoned her regular afternoon calls and instead devoted herself entirely to Emily’s care, bathing her, feeding her with sips of beef tea, chatting to her or reading snippets of news from the
Manchester Guardian
in the hope of engaging the interest of this wreck of a woman who lay prone and twisted with rage in the great brass bed. The prospect of years stretching ahead caring for an invalid mother filled her with dismay, coupled with a very real sense of guilt that it should. Dear heaven, she would go mad. ‘Besides, we can’t afford for you to lose your job. Who would pay for Mother’s care then? She’s going to need a great deal in the future, even when she starts on the road to recovery which I’m sure she’ll do soon.’

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