A Surprise Visitor
‘These are worrying times, Ruth. We need to invest more of your money to keep us going. That way, I think we could survive for a couple of years. The merchants are taking advantage of the supply situation. Raw cotton is twice the price it was. Exports are getting more difficult, as most bought from us because of our cheap prices and we haven’t half the orders now that we had. Then there’s the lowering of sales here at home. Wholesale prices are being cut to the bone. It’s like we’re working for nothing to keep the workforce in jobs.’
‘I can’t give me mind to it, Amy, love. Me heart’s that heavy with me grief for George and thinking of our Seth’s plight. I’ve to leave it to you to decide.’
‘Eeh, Ruth, lass. You’ve to be strong. My heart’s breaking an’ all, but I keep going, and you must, too. We’ve got through a lot of bad times, and we know that sticking together and taking a day at a time helps.’
When she was upset, Amy often forgot to keep up her nice way of speaking that she’d learned from the elocution lessons she had attended in the Earl’s employ, and lapsed into her natural northern accent. Ruth liked to hear it; it felt good. Like she had her old sister back. Not that having a posh voice had changed Amy. And neither had her responsibilities, which were a heavy burden for a young woman; though what she lacked in age, Amy made up for in intelligence, and she fared well. Ruth was proud of her.
Amy had grown into a bonny lass. Her hair, which had been the bane of her life, now hung in neat ringlets, held back by a mother-of-pearl clip, though achieving this meant that she looked a funny sight in the rags she wore her curls in at night.
Ruth and Amy were sitting in what they called their parlour, but the toffs would call a withdrawing room. They both loved this room and had chosen the furniture and colour scheme together. The rich-looking but cosy sofas in soft silver-greys, with cushions filled with feathers, were Amy’s choice. The occasional furniture and a deep oak cabinet holding beautiful ornaments had been chosen by Ruth. They gave the room elegance. Amy had guided her, as she had seen such a room in the Arkwrights’ house when she was nanny to Lady Katrina’s child, and had wanted to make this one similar.
The walls they had covered in silver-grey silk, and the carpet set everything off, with its royal-blue colour with a pattern of sweeping grey pampas grass woven through it. Never had Ruth dreamed that she would sit in such a room, let alone own one. And yet it all seemed to fit her and Amy. They spent hours in here. Often with Ruth sitting at the grand piano in the corner, playing classical tunes, while Amy read a book or did some beautiful embroidery – one of the many skills that had been part of her tutoring to become a teacher. Ruth often wondered if Amy regretted not going on with that career. But then the schoolroom she’d set up for the workers’ children was a joy to her, and she could often be found taking one of the lessons, if she had time on her hands.
There hadn’t been much call for the charity work that the Earl had organized and that Amy loved to help with, though the need for it was increasing again, with the numbers now out of work. And it seemed likely that she and Amy would be putting more folk out on their backsides. Eeh, what am I thinking, but what else can we do?
‘You’re quiet, Ruth. Are you all right?’
‘Aye, but I’ve a couple of things on me mind. Both are tugging at me heart.’ She hadn’t told Amy about her encounter with the Earl, afraid that voicing it would taint the episode, as it was difficult to describe how it happened without it sounding sordid – happening, as it did, so soon after Lady Katrina’s passing. But now she felt the need to unburden herself. When she’d finished telling the story, Amy was aghast, but not for the reason Ruth thought she would be.
‘You mean, he actually said he loved you? Eeh, our Ruth.’
‘I knaw. I never expected it, but now I don’t knaw what to make of it. It’s unsettled me.’
‘But you should be joyous.’
‘I am, but I’m also afraid that’s not the all of it.’ She told Amy about Lady Bellinger and her threats. ‘And then, a couple of days ago, the Earl delivered a note to me, telling me that he was going back to his home in Northallerton. He left an address and asked me to visit him now and again. He said he needed time, but hoped we could rekindle the feeling we both knew we had for one another.’
‘But that’s wonderful. Oh, Ruth, you should be happy. I know it’s sad that Lady Katrina and her babby died – I loved her very much. And I know she and the Earl were happy, so he must be grieving badly. But this shows that although he loved his wife and made her a good husband, he never forgot you.’
‘That’s just it. What kind of man is he? I mean, he could have done just as he liked, for his class get away with owt. But he chose to abandon me, and to marry another because she was rich.’
‘Eeh, Ruth. The Earl was already betrothed to Lady Katrina when he met you. That isn’t something he could have got out of. And I think he was just as torn, as he did love Katrina. And, you know, he had to take on a great deal. He had to leave you behind, and forgive Katrina and take her child as his own.’
‘What are you on about, our Amy? Are you saying as Lady Katrina had an affair?’
‘I am. And with the worst one she could have . . .’ Ruth listened in amazement to what Amy told her. ‘It was during a furious row, going on between Lady Katrina and her sister, that I heard it, Ruth.’
Ruth shuddered with fear as she listened to the cruel words spoken by Lady Bellinger to her own flesh and blood: ‘Don’t think for a moment that you and Frederick are ever going to get your hands on Daddy’s money. Your child is my husband’s bastard, and you know it. You only have to look at her and your wedding-night debauchery stares you in the face. Well, I’m going to make sure that Daddy knows. I’m just waiting for Frederick to fall out of favour. And he will. The tug of the heart is stronger than loyalty, and you know – and I know – where your husband’s heart lies. Haven’t you noticed how that witch is gaining in wealth? You don’t think for one minute that she’s done that on her own, do you?’
‘Oh, our Amy. I can’t believe it. That woman frightens me.’
‘She’s a nasty piece.’
‘Poor Lady Katrina. To have such a threat hanging over her.’
‘Aye, and I reckon that’s what made her miscarry her second babby. That night, she fainted and began to bleed. There wasn’t a nicer person, Ruth. Lady Katrina were lovely. Talk amongst the staff had always been that it was Lord Bellinger who took her on her wedding night, and not the Earl. But I’d never listen to the tales, so I don’t know why it was said. But I have to admit, the child does look like Lord Bellinger. And especially like his sister, who came to visit once. But, you know, the Earl loved that little girl and treated her as his own, so that says sommat about him, doesn’t it?’
‘Aye, it does. I were daft to doubt him. Oh, Amy, he’s in a bad place.’ Ruth told Amy more of what the Earl had said in his note about how he had been cut off by the Arkwrights.
‘Eeh, Ruth, the way them lot go on. That Lord and Lady Bellinger are underhand, and are trying to grow their empire at everyone’s expense. Though there are rumours that they’re failing and, if they’re true, that could make them even more dangerous.’
‘I’ve been thinking the same. She could make trouble for us. We’re to be on our guard, Amy.’
‘We are, I agree. But how we will know what they intend – if anything – I do not know. Now, what was the other matter? You said you had a couple of things playing on your mind, Ruth.’
‘Aye, I have, Amy love. What d’yer think of us closing the factory? Just until the troubles in America are over. And then me and you could go to Australia and bring our Seth and his family back and—’
Amy’s look of complete shock stopped Ruth from continuing. A silence fell. Ruth waited, not wanting to push for an answer. She knew Amy needed time to absorb this. Amy never made snap decisions, unlike herself.
When Amy did speak, the guilt Ruth already felt about her proposal deepened. ‘If we did that, Ruth, we’d put the rest of our loyal workforce out of work. Eeh, Ruth, it’s been difficult as it is, making the cuts we’ve had to. The number of homeless folk is growing by the day. I’ve seen to it that the charity work started by the Earl has begun to thrive again, and that the hungry are fed, as much as we can. But to put more out. No, I can’t do it. I suggest we carry on as we are. I can manage with . . . I – I mean. Oh, anyroad, the civil war can’t go on forever.’
Martha Bardacre, a motherly figure who took care of the house and cared deeply for the sisters’ welfare, came through the door at that moment. ‘We’ve got a visitor!’ Her tone held excitement. ‘Eeh, me lasses, you’ll never guess who it is.’
‘Give us a clue at least.’
‘She sings like a bird, Amy.’
Amy jumped up and hugged her. ‘Eeh, Martha, you had me going there. Where is she? Is she all right?’
‘I am, Amy. Hello, you two.’ Lettie breezed through the door. ‘I’m reet as rain, me lasses. Eeh, don’t get up, Ruth. Come here, me Amy.’
As Ruth watched the joy of Amy and Lettie’s reunion, her troubles seemed to halve. Just taking in the sight of Lettie, in her long purple frock with a red feathered boa around her neck and red boots, got her smiling and wondering if Lettie had become colour-blind or if this was the way they dressed in London. Because it wasn’t just her clothes. Lettie’s hair was piled high and clipped back into a bunch of ringlets, and her face was painted with rouge. Though she’d have said Lettie was a mite too thin.
When the pair finally parted, Lettie had left traces of her red lipstick all over Amy’s face. Ruth laughed out loud, but then found herself spitting Lettie’s feathers out of her mouth, as Lettie bent over her and enclosed her in her arms.
‘It’s wonderful to see thee, Lettie. More wonderful than you can imagine! Me and Amy have a lot to tell you. Sit down, and I’ll get Martha to fetch us some tea and cakes.’
‘Eeh, bugger the tea and cakes, haven’t you any whisky? By, I could down a reet good swallow of that.’
This caused alarm in Ruth. It wasn’t the whisky, but the way Lettie had said she needed one, as if her life depended on it. Something was amiss.
‘Are you really all right, Lettie? Has something happened? Your last letter said that you were doing so well.’
Lettie sank down onto the sofa next to Ruth. Her eyes filled with tears and her head shook. ‘It’s all over, I – I have—’ A spasm of coughing seized her. Her hand rummaged in her bag, and the handkerchief she pulled out and put to her mouth was blood-stained.