The Fleethaven Trilogy (48 page)

Esther smiled at him in return and expressed her gratitude. She could not let him know that if only he had agreed to this almost ten years earlier, a great deal of unhappiness might have been prevented.

There was a cruel irony in the fact that after all this time she had what she had then wanted most in life. Now, it was not what she wanted the most. Not now, not since she had known real love.

She sighed softly to herself. Once the squire’s change of heart would have filled her with ecstasy. Although she did still feel a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that her future, and that of her daughter, was secure, the thrill, the pinnacle of all her dreams as she had once supposed securing the tenancy of Brumbys’ Farm would be, was no more.

She was standing shaking the squire’s hand and he was saying, ‘I’ll not forget the business of the motor car, my dear. Just give me a few days . . .’

True to his word, the following week the squire fetched the motor car.

Esther dusted her hands together. ‘I’m glad to see the back of that.’ she muttered, as the vehicle, coughing and spluttering, disappeared up the lane. But in her own mind she was doubtful she would see her money back.

Esther was wrong.

Two days later a smart pony and trap driven by a beaming Squire Marshall turned in at the gate of Brumbys’ Farm. Esther, rolling pastry at her kitchen table, dusted the flour from her hands with her apron and went out to meet him. She walked around the trap and patted the sprightly pony on its neck.

The squire climbed down and stood beside the trap, confident of her approval.

Esther looked up at him. ‘Oh, Squire, ‘tis lovely, but I don’t know whether I really ought to spend the sort of money this must have cost.’

‘Now, now, my dear, before you decide . . .’ As he spoke he was reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out what seemed to Esther to be a sheaf of papers. Holding them out, he added, still smiling broadly, ‘Just count that first, and if you’re still not happy then I’ll take this back and recoup all the money for you.’

Esther held the thin, white pieces of paper in her fingers. Puzzled she glanced up at the Squire. ‘Is – is this money?’

‘Oh I’m sorry, my dear. Of course, I hadn’t realized. Yes, each of those white pieces of paper is worth five pounds.’

‘Five pounds!’ Esther exclaimed. ‘Each?’

The squire nodded. ‘Yes, my dear.’

Swiftly Esther counted them, and then looked up once more. ‘There’s more money here than ever Matthew took from my box, Squire.’

The older man shrugged and avoided meeting her direct, questioning gaze. ‘Ah well, I don’t know about that, my dear. All I know is, I managed to get a good price for the motor and that is what is left.’

‘Is the pony and trap paid for?’ she asked sharply.

‘Yes, yes . . .’ He fished in another pocket. ‘Here’s the bill of sale. Now, Mrs Hilton, are you happy – or not?’

‘Well . . .’ Esther frowned over the money and the receipt she held in her hand. She could not be anything but happy, although she had a shrewd suspicion that the squire was not being entirely truthful with her. Had he really got such a good price for the motor car, so much that he had paid for this magnificent pony and trap and still left her with more than Matthew had taken in the first place? Or had he put in some money of his own? There was no way she could know without risking offending him. For once, if her suspicions were founded, she would have to swallow her prickly pride and accept the squire’s good intentions with equally good grace.

She looked up again at him, a smile spreading across her face. ‘I’m overwhelmed, Squire. Really. I don’t know how you’ve managed it – ’ there was a veiled hint in her tone that perhaps she guessed what he might have done – ‘but I’m truly grateful. Thank you.’

Relief spread across Mr Marshall’s face and he patted her shoulder benevolently. ‘Don’t mention it, my dear, don’t mention it. About that other little matter – if you care to come up to the Grange tomorrow afternoon. Mr Thompson will bring all the papers to be signed.’

‘That other little matter’, he called it. If only he knew what havoc that ‘little matter’ had caused in her life.

E
STHER
Hilton was mistress of Brumbys’ Farm – the legal tenant in her own right.

She had the land she loved, she had a healthy, growing daughter and a smart new pony and trap to take Kate to school and herself to the market and to church.

She had good friends; Will still came twice a week, and treated her and Kate as if they belonged to him even if the words of acknowledgement were not forthcoming. She had the Harris family; wonderful, motherly, laughing Ma Harris in whose eyes Esther had exonerated herself for her past indiscretions by her tender care of Matthew, and Mr Harris, quieter than his voluble wife, but always there to lend a hand when needed. And the Harris children – what would she do without Enid and the younger boys helping on her farm whenever they knew she needed extra hands, without her ever having to ask?

And then there was Danny Eland.

Oh, Danny, Esther would say countless times to herself watching him about the farm with Kate, or doing little jobs for her, you’re the growing image of Matthew. What am I to do about you?

Despite all this if there was still an aching loneliness in her heart, a secret sadness which she could share with no one, then she would tell herself sternly that she had much to be grateful for and that she couldn’t expect to have everything she wanted in life.

Nevertheless, there was a restlessness about her, a longing that even the work-filled days and exhausted nights could not subdue.

‘Our Enid’s getting wed, Esther,’ Ma greeted Esther one morning.

‘Oh, Ma, how wonderful. I didn’t even know she was courting. Who is it?’

Ma’s round cheeks wobbled with pleasure. ‘It’s a young feller who’s come back from the war – Walter Maine. Lost a leg, he has. He’s got a wooden one but you should see him get about, Esther. I couldn’t believe it. Before I met him,’ Ma clasped her hands in front of her ample bosom, ‘I have to admit I was a bit doubtful. I thought he’d be a cripple, like. Not a bit of it! One crutch he uses but can he move!’ Her laughter cackled so loudly that the hens, pecking in a leisurely way in the yard, squawked in alarm and scuttled for cover. ‘He’s not idle either.’ There was pride already in her tone for her future son-in-law. ‘Learning to be a blacksmith, he is, so’s he’ll have a trade.’ Her tone dropped. ‘You know our smithy’s lad never came back from the war . . .?’

Esther nodded and Ma went on, ‘So I reckon he’s glad to have a young ‘un to take on.’

So many lives altered by the war, Esther thought, but aloud she asked, ‘When’s the big day?’

Ma shrugged and stretched her mouth into the familiar toothless grin. ‘We thought Midsummer Day – they’ve no reason to wait any longer. There’s attic rooms above the smithy they can have and the smith’s wife says she’ll be glad to have Enid’s help, and,’ Ma added, our Enid’ll even help out in the smithy itself if need be. She ain’t afraid of work.’

Esther smiled. ‘No, I can vouch for that.’

Ma’s round face took on a dreamy expression. ‘Eh, but what wouldn’t Ah give to see me girl in a fine white dress on her wedding day?’ She sighed and then added in a more matter-of-fact manner, ‘Ah, well, there it is – frippery’s not for the likes of us. She’ll have to have a new costume that’ll serve her after her wedding day.’

As Ma waddled away down the lane towards the Point, Esther watched her go, a plan forming in her mind.

The sewing machine she had brought back from her Aunt Hannah’s was now in constant use. She made smocks and dresses for Kate and simple skirts and blouses for herself. Could she, Esther asked herself, make a wedding gown for Enid?

It would be the most complicated thing she had ever tackled, but she could afford to buy a length of material out of the extra money the squire had got for the car – or that he said he had got.

Esther smiled. The squire had been good to her, so why should she not pass on a little of that kindness to someone else? She owed the Harris family so much. First young Ernie, and now Enid and the younger boys. And Ma herself. Even though there had been a time of estrangement between them over Jonathan, now it was as if their differences had never happened.

The very next day found Esther bowling along the lane towards the town in her smart pony and trap. It gave her a sudden thrill to be driving her own trap, to be dressed in a smart costume – even though it was the one she had bought for her aunt’s funeral and therefore black. But she was still in mourning for her husband and only the ruffle of her white blouse showed at her throat in the open neck of the close-fitting jacket.

On her arrival in the busy main street, however, some of her newfound confidence ebbed away. She was not used to coming shopping, frequenting what were to her the smart shops in the town.

As she entered the largest drapery store in the main street, the bell clanged loudly, heralding her arrival. She felt that everyone in the shop turned to look her up and down and suddenly Esther felt very much the country mouse come to town.

For a moment her nerve almost failed her completely when a woman customer at the counter turned to leave and saw Esther standing uncertainly just inside the door. As she came towards her, Esther recognized her as a member of the church congregation and a woman of whom Martha Willoughby always made a great fuss.

Esther drew a sharp breath and waited for the woman’s scathing look and sarcastic remark. In readiness to do battle, Esther’s chin came a little higher and her green eyes sparkled with defiance.

The woman was on her way out, but as she drew near to Esther she said, ‘Good morning. Mrs Hilton, isn’t it? How nice to see you in town.’ The woman did look her up and down, but there was no disdain in the glance. To Esther’s astonishment, it was more a look of admiration.

‘G-good morning,’ Esther managed to stammer in reply and then she gazed about her almost in awe of the large shop with its shelves of bolts of cloth, its prim woman assistant behind the counter.

The customer, her hand resting lightly on the door handle, made no move to leave the shop but stood, her head slightly on one side, watching Esther. There was a friendly smile on her mouth.

Esther felt she could confide in her. ‘I – er – I’m looking for some material suitable for a wedding gown.’ As she saw the woman’s eyebrows rise Esther added hastily, ‘Oh, not for me! It’s for a friend of mine who’s getting married and I thought – well – I’d like to try and make her a wedding dress.’

The woman’s smile broadened. ‘Then I know just the person to help you.’ She turned and led the way back towards the counter and Esther followed.

‘Miss Davenport, would you be kind enough to assist Mrs Hilton with the choosing of a fabric suitable for a wedding gown?’

‘Certainly, madam.’

The woman turned back to Esther and made her farewells. ‘Miss Davenport will look after you. She is a fine dressmaker herself – ’ she leaned towards Esther with a conspiratorial air – ‘she’ll give you a few tips, my dear.’

Esther smiled. ‘Thank you. You’ve been very kind.’

‘A pleasure, my dear. A pleasure. I’m so glad we met.’

Esther watched her go as the doorbell clanged behind her. How friendly she had been, and yet Esther was sure that the woman – whose name she still did not know – must have witnessed several of Martha Willoughby’s sarcastic remarks towards Esther in the past.

If you’d like to come this way, madam, perhaps I can be of assistance.’

‘Of assistance’ Miss Davenport certainly was and when Esther finally left the shop, she couldn’t think when she had last enjoyed herself so much.

Her arms were full of material and lace trimmings, and her head was bursting with advice and suggestions.

‘Do come back and see me again, Mrs Hilton, if you have any problems,’ Miss Davenport insisted as she held open the door for Esther.

When her work was finished that evening and Kate safely in bed, Esther spread out the creamy silk material on her parlour table. She wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. Now, she thought, Enid’s slightly shorter than me, but her size and shape are much the same as mine. So I reckon if I make it to fit myself, I shan’t go far wrong.

The most anxious moment was actually putting the scissors into the lovely fabric, but once she had cut out the pieces and begun to pin and tack them together, Esther’s confidence grew.

Two weeks before the wedding, the dress was almost finished. Esther chewed her thumb thoughtfully as she stood looking down at the gown which she had spread out on the narrow bed in the little room beyond the nursery that so long ago had been her bedroom when Sam Brumby had been ill.

She heard voices from downstairs and carefully shutting the door, Esther went down to find Ma Harris and Enid sitting in the kitchen talking to Kate. Esther jumped visibly at seeing them there, thinking for a moment they had found out about her making the dress.

They were both smiling up at her as she looked from one to the other.

‘We’ve come to ask you summat, Esther lass,’ Ma began. ‘Go on, Enid, you ask her.’

Enid giggled nervously. ‘I – we – was wondering if you’d let Katie be me bridesmaid . . .’

At this Kate jumped up and down clapping her hands. ‘Oh, Enid, Enid! Oh do say I can, Mam.’

‘Now wait a minute, Kate,’ Esther said. ‘Be still, child. Let me talk to Enid.’ She turned back. ‘I don’t understand, Enid. What about your own sisters?’

Ma Harris and Enid exchanged a knowing look and shrugged their shoulders.

‘That’s the very reason we’re asking your Kate,’ Ma said. ‘And we’re asking Danny Eland to be a page boy. Just the two of them, that’s all we want. Enid dun’t want a lot of fuss and you should hear the squabbling that’s been goin’ on in our house over who’s to be her bridesmaid. She can’t have ’em all and so we thought this was the best way to settle it. That way none of ’em’s noses is out o’ joint!’

Ma and her sayings, Esther thought irrationally, and then she murmured, ‘Danny, you say?’

It was strange how circumstances seemed always to contrive to bring those two – Kate and Danny – together, however much she might wish it otherwise.