Without a Mother's Love (11 page)

‘He can take a lantern, can’t he, Benjamin?’

‘Of course, if he wishes.’ His father turned to him.‘You never stay long enough on a Sunday.’ The dinner had not lifted his father’s mood.

‘It’s difficult, staying with the supervisor and his wife. I have to fit in with their ways.’

‘And they know that you are expected to spend Sunday with your family.’ His father’s voice was sharp. ‘I want to talk to you, son, in my study at half past the hour.’

‘Yes, Father.’ He sighed. A telling-off, no doubt. He supposed he deserved it. He sat in the drawing room while his sisters drew his likeness and examined their efforts afterwards. They were talented, he thought. His mother was too, but their other drawings of garden flowers and ladies’ outfits held no appeal for him. Now, steam engines and the machinery they drove would be another matter. He was reading everything he could find about them and wanted to learn more. Perhaps his father wanted to talk about that. He was more cheerful when he went into the study.

‘Now, son, I know it’s hard for you, settling into your new lodgings, and it’s a long walk for you to come home, but your mother and me expect you here well before midday.You could at least make the effort to get home in time to go to church with us.’

‘I’m sorry, Father.’

‘And then you’re off again as soon as you’ve eaten your dinner.’

‘I’m not going back early today,’ he replied smartly. His father gave him a keen look, so he added, ‘It’s just that I - I’ve made some new friends.’

‘Family comes first on a Sunday. Who are these friends?’

‘I have told you about them. Tobias Holmes and his sister.’

‘Not them dissenters at the old farmhouse?’

‘They’re nice folk, and they’re doing a lot to help the families of miners who have no work. They have meetings in the old barn and a Sunday school and—’

‘Is that where you’re spending all your time?’

‘Miss Holmes gives the miners’ children tea in their farmhouse. They’ve cleaned it up and put in a cooking range like ours. You should see it, Father.’

‘They’re radicals, preaching all sorts of ideas to my labourers. I’ll not have you going there, do you hear?’ His father had raised his voice.

‘They’re not all radicals. Some just want to help.’

‘How, though? By stirring up trouble?’

Jared was annoyed at his father’s assumptions and responded angrily: ‘By feeding starving children!’

His father narrowed his eyes. ‘I know some do charitable work, but so does the church and we’re church folk. What would your mother say? I don’t want you involved with them.’

He wished he hadn’t started this conversation now.‘You don’t know them,’ he replied.

‘I know that being rebellious is part of growing up for you,’ his father snapped.

‘Well, I’m old enough to make up my own mind.’

‘No, you’re not! You stop this right now, my lad. You do as you’re told and behave yourself or I’ll give you the whipping of your life.’

Jared didn’t care about a whipping. He’d been hardened to those at school. But he was angry that his father had judged him and his new friends so harshly. He’d only made his situation worse by trying to discuss it. He heaved a sigh and muttered, ‘Yes, Father.’

His father nodded and pursed his lips. ‘Good. Now we’ll go into the drawing room together and listen to your sisters play their new piece. Your mother has something to say to you as well.’

Josephina and Juliana sang and played. They were attractive to look at and, although a little younger than he was, they were growing up fast. As he was. Jared realized that he would be as watchful as Sarah’s brothers about anyone who came courting them.

‘Excellent,’ his father said, when they had finished.‘We’ll have some jolly evenings this winter, to be sure. Now, Caroline, my dear, tell the children about our invitation.’

His mother beamed at them. ‘We are going to your uncle Hesley’s for our Christmas feast. He has written to invite us and I have said yes.’

‘Uncle Hesley’s? Why? You don’t like him.’

‘Jared!’ His father scowled.

‘Well, it’s true that I do not approve of the life he leads,’ his mother said, ‘but he is my half-brother and we are the only family he has outside Hill Top House. He wishes us all to be together for the festivities. I believe that, since his troubles at the pit and his injuries, he may have reformed a little. His grandson has finished at the university, and Hesley tells me he has engaged a governess for Cousin Olivia. He knows that I worry about her. I should think he wants to show us how well he can look after her.’

‘More likely he wants to borrow money from Father,’ Jared muttered.

When his father gave him a dark look but did not chastise him again, Jared knew he had been right.

His father said, ‘I haven’t any to lend him. He had a fright over the bank failure, so perhaps he has come to realize how important his family is to him. To all of us. I am sure that is why he is being so generous this festive season. So,’ his father stood up, ‘we shall make a special effort to be united, for your mother’s sake and for little Olivia.’

‘How old is she now?’

‘Thirteen. A year younger than Juliana. I shall offer to bring her here to stay with us for a while. She must be lonely there and my daughters will be good company for her.’

Chapter 8

The following afternoon, governess and pupil were walking in the pasture above Hill Top House.A fresh breeze was blowing and they could see the smoking chimneys of the ironworks in the distant valley.The town was spreading, with rows of cottages to house labourers for its prospering manufactories.The master’s pit was out of sight, on the other side of town where the navigation disappeared between the hill slopes. As they rested on a dry-stone wall, they saw riders approaching. There were two, and their horses slowed on the steep, rutted track to the house.

Harriet recognized one horse and its rider. ‘It’s Matt back already. Do you know who is with him?’

‘That’s Cousin Hesley,’ Olivia said quietly.

Harriet glanced at her. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see him?’

‘No. He pulls my hair and pinches me.’

‘Surely not. He is a young gentleman.’

‘He whips me, too, with his riding crop.’

‘He gives you punishment?’

‘Only when I get in his way. Then he laughs at me.’

Harriet frowned at the idea of such thoughtless behaviour. She reached across for Olivia’s hand and said, ‘We shall show him how grown-up you are now, and then he will treat you as a lady.’

They continued to watch as a cart laden with travelling boxes and sacks trundled a few hundred yards behind the riders. Cousin Hesley had brought provisions with him as well as luggage, but Harriet wondered why he had returned from his shooting and hunting.

‘We had better hurry back,’ she suggested. ‘Mrs Cookson will need our help.’

But Mrs Cookson sent them to the schoolroom with game pie and pickles for their tea, saying,‘The gentlemen are receiving visitors later. If I were you I’d stay out of sight until tomorrow.’

During the evening Harriet saw from her window several riders arrive. They were smartly clothed with fine coats, boots, and tall hats. Before long they were making a lot of noise in the drawing room.

After tea, she taught Olivia the words to more hymns and they sang them together as best they could without any music. This helped to drown the shouting downstairs and soon her pupil was sleepy from their earlier long walk. When Harriet went to fetch hot water from the kitchen, she hurried past the dining room.

Mrs Cookson was nowhere to be found and had left untidy debris from the gentlemen’s cold supper on the table. She put the food in the pantry, took the dirty pots to the scullery and wiped down the tabletop. The fire was low, but the water in the range boiler was still hot. She filled a ewer and hastened upstairs.

After Olivia had gone to bed, Harriet read, as she did on most evenings. She looked forward to this time and had found several books in the master’s library to occupy her. She sat by the window and lit a candle when the light faded. The noise downstairs lessened and she heard horses’ hoofs on the cobbles in the yard as, finally, the gentlemen left. She put down her book to watch them.

Young Hesley was out there, in his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, holding a lantern. When he turned he looked up at her window and Harriet drew back, wishing she had extinguished her candle. A few minutes later he walked into the schoolroom, closing the door behind him.

He was a handsome fellow, she thought, with the tall, straight stance and good features of his grandfather. But he carried a horsewhip in one hand and a silver hip flask in the other. His swagger made her nervous. His dress was dishevelled and she guessed he had been drinking all afternoon and evening.

‘So you’re the governess?’ he said. ‘Miss Trent.’ He spoke her name with a mild scorn that she found disrespectful.

‘Please be quiet, sir. Olivia is sleeping.’

‘Is she now? Just you and me, then?’

‘You will be good enough to leave my schoolroom, sir.’

‘It’s
my
schoolroom.’

‘Sir, you are intoxicated!’

‘And you are not.’ He offered her the flask.‘Join me, governess.’

‘No, sir.’

He flicked his whip across the table leg.‘I said join me, damn you!’

Harriet jumped, shocked by his language and behaviour. She moved to the door, intending to hold it open for him to leave. But as she neared him he snaked an arm about her waist and pulled her close.

At first she was angry that he gave no thought to his sleeping cousin, but then her fury heightened. He had assumed she would obey him without question. She tried to remove his arm but it was anchored firmly around her body. ‘Not thinking of running, are you?’ He grinned.

She strained her head away from him. Her anger was turning quickly to fear. He was tall and strong, he smelled strongly of spirits, and his grip was tight. She was frightened of what he might do next.

She had never experienced such an attack from a gentleman - or, indeed, from any man - and could only say, ‘Stop this at once, sir.’

It was inadequate, she knew, for he was not listening to her. But in her increasing panic she could not think what else to do. Mrs Cookson could not help her. She was in the stables, probably drunk by now. And she dared not call for the master for he was sure to blame her for the incident. It was always the servant’s fault.

‘Comely armful, aren’t you? What was your name? Ah, yes. Miss Trent. The comely Miss Trent. The governess.’ His speech was slurred and he spoke with an exaggerated slowness as if he wanted to be sure that he articulated the words correctly.

Her heart was pounding with dread and she tried to steady it by breathing slowly. She knew she was no match for his strength. He tossed aside the whip and took the flask from his other hand, draining it into his open mouth. Then he threw it across the room. Dread turned to horror as his hand fell on the swell of her breasts and he dug his fingers roughly into her flesh. She squealed and tears sprang to her eyes. ‘No, sir. No,’ she begged. ‘Please let me go.’

‘Over here,’ he growled, and dragged her towards the schoolroom table, pushing her backwards and pressing his body to hers.
^‘
C
^’
m
^’
on, governess’ he slurred. He grasped her chin. His florid face and open lips had made contact with hers before she knew what was happening.

She screamed in her throat and struggled to break free of him. As she did so the schoolroom door banged against the wall and, over his shoulder, she saw the master standing in the doorway with a lighted candle in a brass holder. ‘Oh, no!’ she cried.

Hesley’s grip slackened and he slumped over the table. She scrambled away from him to stand alone in the centre of the room. The master would dismiss her for this. And without a testimonial. Oh, Lord, no! Where would she go and what would become of Olivia?

‘Stand up straight, Hesley, and get yourself off to bed,’ the master barked.

Hesley turned his head slowly and gave his grandfather a look of contempt. The master took him by the scruff of his shirt, hauled him across the room and flung him out of the door. Harriet heard the younger man stagger along the landing as the older one turned to face her with a questioning look.

‘Sir, please believe me, he came here uninvited . . .’ Harriet began anxiously.

‘I know my grandson, MissTrent.
^’
He sniffed audibly and looked her over in the candlelight. ‘And your gown becomes you.’

She was relieved that he had sent away his grandson but she had the same uncomfortable feeling she’d experienced with him before: humiliation, as though she were a beast being sized up for market. She remembered Mrs Cookson’s warnings about the Mextons, and although she was grateful for the master’s intervention, she wished he would not stare at her so.

Harriet swallowed. ‘What will you do, sir?’ she asked.

‘Do?

‘Am I dismissed, sir?’

He guffawed. ‘Why should I want to dismiss you? You are an excellent servant, and mine until you are one-and-twenty at the very least. As I said, I know who is at fault here.’

She breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘You will be kind enough to ask your grandson not to visit the schoolroom.’

‘He will keep away from you. I shall see that he does.’

‘Thank you, sir. Goodnight, sir.’

He stood looking at her for what seemed a long time, then turned away. She closed the door quietly after him and went through to her bedchamber. She hoped Olivia had not woken and heard any of the unfortunate incident.

 

‘You must do something with your time, Hesley.’

‘What do you mean? Am I not a gentleman?’

‘You must use your education.’

‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’