A Mother's Courage (12 page)

'Thank you,' Eloise murmured, blinking back
tears. It was almost harder to take the kindness
and generosity shown by Gladys than it was to
bear the insults that she had endured from her
mother-in-law and Joan. 'You're very kind,
Gladys. But as soon as Beth recovers I must be on
my way. I need to get back to London and find
work so that I can support my children.'

'And Ada, what about her? The poor soul is
simple, that's plain to see. She would be more of
a hindrance to you than a help.'

'I know, but I cannot desert her. It would be
like leaving a child to fend for itself.'

Gladys tipped her teacup, swirling the leaves
round in the bottom and staring intently at them.
'You say she were born in Bridlington?'

'Yes, and she was raised to think that Joan was
her cousin and not her mother. Poor Ada is still
searching for her own baby, which was taken
from her soon after its birth, although if she
lived, the girl would be almost a woman by now.
In fact, probably the same age as your daughter,
Meg.'

Gladys looked up with a startled expression.
'Oh, Meg's not my daughter, Ellie. When our
youngest daughter got wed, I needed someone
to help me about the house and in the dairy, and
we got Meg from the orphanage. She were about
eleven or twelve then, and would either have
been sent into service or to work in a mill. There's
many an unwanted child that suffers a similar
fate. She calls me Mother, and we treat her as one
of the family, but goodness knows who her
parents were.'

'Well, I think it must have been her lucky day
when you took her into your home,' Eloise said,
smiling. 'And I must go and relieve her so that
she can get her dinner. Perhaps you could send
Ada up with Joss when they come indoors. I
wouldn't want them to get in the way.'

Gladys put her teacup back on its saucer.
'They'll hardly be noticed. My Frank and the
boys will see nothing but the food on their plates
when they come in from the fields. You'll meet
them later, but for now you go and tend to your
babe.'

Eloise rose from the table feeling much
stronger and more positive now she had eaten.
Acting on instinct, she bent down to drop a kiss
on Gladys's wiry grey hair. 'You are so kind, and
I am truly grateful to you.'

Later that day, when the men came in for
supper, Ada was sent upstairs to keep an eye on
Beth while Eloise snatched a bite to eat. With
obvious pride, Gladys introduced Eloise to her
stalwart husband, Frank, a big, burly man with a
kind smile and an easy-going manner. Then
there was Reggie, their eldest son, who at thirty
was still unmarried and rather bashful, but who
exuded the same good humour and kindly
nature as his parents. He was, so Gladys told
Eloise in confidence, unofficially engaged to
Maud Fosdyke, whose father owned the local
ironmongery. They had been stepping out
together for four years, and Maud was not
getting any younger, but Reggie was a slow
fellow and wouldn't be hurried. Then there was
Jacob, his younger brother by a year, who was in
contrast taciturn and disinclined to talk, seemingly
more interested in his supper than in being
agreeable to an uninvited house guest. Jacob was
courting the miller's daughter, Gladys said with
a beaming smile, and they would be married
before the year was out. Two sons had not
survived infancy, she admitted sadly, but her six
daughters were all married and living close by.
Between them they had already produced
twelve children, with another two babies
expected soon. Eloise could only envy this large,
happy family, but their closeness made the
separation from her own mother all the harder to
bear, and as soon as she had eaten her meal of
bread, cheese and pickles, washed down with
farmhouse cider, she retired to her room to put
Joss to bed in the cot that Reggie had hefted
down from the attic.

Ada was given a small box room at the end of
the corridor, but she was scared to sleep alone in
a strange house and she dragged her feather
mattress and coverlet into Eloise's room, placing
it on the floor in front of the hearth. With Joss
settled in the cot and Ada lying by the fire, Eloise
read them both a fairy story from Ada's favourite
book, but after just a few pages she realised that
they had both fallen asleep. Having reassured
herself that Beth was no worse and that she too
was sleeping peacefully, Eloise took her writing
case from the valise and climbed into bed. She
managed to write a few lines to her mother, but
she could hardly keep her eyes open and she lay
down to sleep.

She was awakened in the night by a child
crying and she sat bolt upright in the bed, staring
into the faint glow of the fire as the embers
turned into ash. For a moment she couldn't think
where she was, or who was crying. Then it all
came rushing back to her and she leaned over to
examine Beth, but although she was still in the
grip of the fever she was not making the noise.
Eloise leapt out of bed as she realised that it was
Joss who was wailing miserably. She snatched
him out of his cot, and her worst fears were
realised when she found that his little nightshirt
was soaked with sweat and his body was
burning up with fever. She lit a candle, and even
in its pale light she could see that he was covered
in a rash. She bathed his hot body with cool
water from the washbowl, and finally she took
him into her own bed, but he complained of
earache and she spent the rest of the night
walking the floor with him in her arms when the
pain became too great for him to bear. His sobs
eventually awakened Beth but Ada slept on,
snoring loudly, while Eloise did her best to
console her sick children. When the first light of
dawn filtered through the lattice window, Eloise
was exhausted and the children had fallen into a
fitful sleep. Moving carefully so that she did not
wake them, Eloise climbed out of bed. There
were sounds of stirring in the house, and activity
in the farmyard below. She could hear the clatter
of milk pails and the swooshing sound of water
being drawn from the pump, the lowing of cows
in the milking parlour and the clarion call of the
cockerel.

She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders
and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door
slightly ajar so that she could hear the little ones
if they should start to cry. Her bare feet made soft
pattering sounds on the floorboards as she went
down the stairs to the kitchen. She had hoped to
find Gladys there but she stopped short when
she saw Reggie sitting at the table drinking a
mug of tea. He jumped to his feet, knocking his
chair over in his haste.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' Eloise
said, wrapping her shawl a little tighter around
her body. Being seen in just her nightgown by a
man who was neither her husband nor her father
caused her cheeks to flame with embarrassment,
but she could see that Reggie was just as uncomfortable.
He righted the chair and stood behind
it, staring down at his boots.

'Er, morning, ma'am.'

'I was looking for your mother,' Eloise said
hastily. 'My little boy was taken ill in the night.
I'm afraid he has the measles, and I wondered if
someone could go for the doctor.'

Reggie raised his eyes and his rugged features
crumpled with concern. 'I'm right sorry to hear
that, ma'am. I'll go for him myself.'

'That's very kind of you, Reggie. I would be so
much obliged if you would.'

'I'll go right away.' Smiling shyly, he picked up
his cap and jacket and made for the door, but he
paused on the threshold. 'Ma's out collecting
eggs, but I daresay as how she won't be long.
Shall I tell her you want her?'

'No, please don't disturb her. I can manage
until the doctor comes.'

He nodded his head briefly. 'Aye, well, there's
tea in the pot. Help yourself, lass. I mean,
ma'am.'

'No, please. My name is Eloise, but my friends
call me Ellie.'

'Ellie. That's a pretty name,' Reggie said,
flushing beneath his tan. 'I'd best go.'

As he left the house, a blast of cold air pungent
with the smell of the farmyard blew into the
kitchen. Eloise poured a cup of tea for herself and
one for Ada, which she laced with sugar and
then took upstairs to her bedroom.

When Dr Robinson arrived later that morning,
he confirmed that Joss had measles, but that in his
opinion it was just a mild attack. He examined
Beth and to Eloise's intense relief he told her that
the crisis was past. Beth was quite poorly, but
there was no sign of complications and she
should make a complete recovery, although there
was no question of their being able to travel for a
week at least. The little ones would need careful
nursing, rest and nourishing food until they were
completely restored to health. Eloise shook his
hand warmly and thanked him profusely. Her
relief was so great that she had to restrain herself
from throwing her arms around his neck and
kissing him, but that would be an improper thing
to do, and she thanked him once again. Slightly
embarrassed, Dr Robinson refused to accept any
payment, saying that Gladys had more than
made up for his fee with newly laid eggs, a jug of
cream and a pound of butter. He left the farm,
promising to return in a couple of days' time to
check up on his patients.

The ensuing week was a much happier one for
Eloise once she was certain that her children were
on the road to recovery. Away from the stultifying
atmosphere of Cribb's Hall and the constant
carping and interference from Hilda and Joan,
Eloise began to relax and to feel more like her old
self. The open-handed kindness of the Danby
family acted like balm to her soul. Frank said little,
but when he spoke to Eloise she couldn't help
noticing that he lowered his great booming voice
to a whisper, bending his shaggy head and
smiling gently at her, as if he was dealing with a
highly strung thoroughbred filly. Jacob rarely
spoke to her at all, but she took his silence for
shyness rather than ill temper, and Reggie did
everything he could in his clumsy, bumbling way
to make her feel at home. Sometimes he brought
her little posies of cowslips and sweet cicely, or a
juicy apple from their winter store. He unearthed
a slightly tatty rocking horse from the attic and
carved a wooden boat out of a block of wood, both
of which went a long way to keep Joss amused.
Eloise wondered what Maud Fosdyke would
have thought about all this, but at least she could
honestly say that she had given him no
encouragement. However, as the days went by
Reggie's apparent fondness for her began to be a
worry, and she raised the subject during a
conversation with Gladys, who laughed and said
that Reggie was a big soft-hearted marshmallow
and that Maud was not the sort of woman to stand
for any nonsense. Maud would sort him out.

In some ways, Gladys reminded Eloise of her
own mother, particularly by the way that she
had taken them all under her wing like a mother
hen with a brood of stray ducklings. In between
her chores, Gladys took turns at sitting with the
children, who in their convalescence were sometimes
crotchety and difficult to amuse, but this
allowed Eloise some time to herself. Ada was less
clinging now, which also helped. She and Meg
had formed an unlikely alliance. Despite the fact
that Ada was old enough to be Meg's mother,
they got on so well together that they were soon
the best of friends. Meg took Ada with her
wherever she went on the farm, allowing her to
try her hand at milking and she taught her how
to skim off the cream and to churn butter. This
left Eloise free to take walks in the countryside,
breathing in the sparkling clear air that was
unpolluted by the stench of the city. Quite often,
in fact too often to be written off as pure coincidence,
Eloise came across Reggie during these
walks. Sometimes he would apparently be
walking in the same direction on some errand
which was immediately forgotten as he fell into
step beside her, and occasionally he would be
driving the farm cart and would offer to take her
up beside him while he drove to market, or
visited the feed merchant. Even after such a short
time, Eloise sensed that he was developing a
genuine fondness for her. She found it touching
and rather sweet, but she gave him no
encouragement, hoping that he would forget
about her when she had left the farm and return
to Maud before she grew tired of waiting for him
to pop the question and married someone else.

Joss and Beth were recovering rapidly now,
and Eloise planned to continue their journey to
London as soon as Dr Robinson agreed that the
children were well enough to travel. She knew
she would have mixed feelings on leaving the
farm, where she had met nothing but kindness,
but she would not impose any longer than was
absolutely necessary on the Danbys. She must
return to London to find work and lodgings until
her parents returned from Africa. It was as
simple as that.

Eloise was returning from her walk one afternoon
with a large bunch of primroses in her
hand, which she intended to give Gladys. The
sun was shining and the hedgerows were alive
with small rodents, insects and nesting birds.
The white flowers of the blackthorn shone like
tiny stars in the tangle of black branches and
twigs. The damp earth, warmed by the spring
sunshine, exuded a rich fruity smell and the
woods were carpeted with sweetly scented
bluebells. As she drew nearer to the farmyard,
Eloise could see Dr Robinson's trap with his old
cob waiting patiently between the shafts, occasionally
pawing the cobblestones as if to remind
his master of his presence. She quickened her
step and almost bumped into Ada who was
lolloping along in her gangly fashion, following
Meg who was running on ahead and laughing
wildly. For a split second, Eloise saw what
appeared to be an incredible likeness, not so
much of their features as the ungainly way in
which they moved and their peals of childlike
laughter. It was, of course, just her fancy and she
pushed the thought to the back of her mind as
she hurried into the house.