A Mother's Shame (42 page)

When Mrs Bradshaw entered the room early the next morning she paused to stare at Maria, who had dropped into a doze by the fire with the sick baby still in her arms. She approached them quietly and was surprised to see that the child seemed to be slightly better. His breathing was a little easier and his eyes didn’t seem to be so feverishly bright.

Well I’ll be, she thought to herself. The night before, she wouldn’t have given a penny for the child’s chances – and yet here he was, apparently over the worst. She was used to seeing babies die in the nursery. The women who usually cared for them were not trained or equipped to look after children, but she had to admit that Maria was making a grand job of it – and despite herself she felt a measure of respect for the girl, especially as she was being held there against her wishes.

She cleared her throat and coughed quietly to let Maria know that she was there and the girl’s eyes instantly sprang open.

‘Oh, Mrs Bradshaw, I’m so sorry, I must have dropped off.’ She looked down at Johnny and after a moment she said, ‘I think he’s out of danger now, as long as he’s well looked after until he’s fully recovered. For a while I thought I was going to lose him, but the little chap has apparently had other plans.’

‘Your care of him has been most commendable,’ Mrs Bradshaw heard herself saying, but silently she scolded herself.
I must be going soft in the head! Happen it really is time for me to retire and go and join my sister at the coast. I’m getting too old for this!
Then, her voice sharp again, she told Maria, ‘The other babies are beginning to stir. Would you like me to send someone in to them while you go and have breakfast and see to your own needs?’

‘No, thank you. I shall eat in here with the babies,’ Maria informed her and with a nod the older woman strode out of the room and left her to it, her head feeling woolly from all the gin she had drunk the night before.

Maria gently laid Johnny back in his cot and began to heat some milk up in the pan on the fire for the others. It looked set to be another long day.

‘Did Father not come home last night?’ Josh enquired that morning at breakfast.

Helena waited until the maid had left the room before replying.

‘No, he didn’t, but I dare say it was due to the weather.’ The snow was still falling thickly. Overnight a dense white blanket had formed across the countryside and she had no doubt that some of the roads would be impassable already. ‘I expect he stayed at his club,’ she said then.

Or at Mrs Elliot’s, Josh thought to himself, pushing his plate away. He had been making a pretence of eating but the food seemed to clog up his throat.

‘It’s time I got ready to go searching again,’ he said.

‘You can’t go out in this weather,’ his mother objected. ‘The horse would never get through the snow.’

‘I don’t intend to take the horse. I shall go on foot. It isn’t that far into the village and I have to find that creature Lennie before he disappears back off to sea again. I’m sure that he has something to do with Maria and Faith’s disappearance,’ Josh said grimly. ‘And furthermore, I think Father knows more than he is letting on as well.’

Helena nodded. ‘I agree with you there, and as a matter of fact, Joshua, I have given him an ultimatum. Either he lets Faith come here to live when we find her, or I shall seek other accommodation and care for her myself. I just hope he has thought on it and is willing to be more reasonable when he does return. But do be careful out there, darling. The weather conditions are downright dangerous and I don’t trust that Lennie as far as I could throw him.’

‘You don’t need to worry about me, Mother,’ Josh assured her. ‘I am more than capable of handling the likes of Lennie Glover, and when I do finally find him I shall knock the truth out of him if need be.’

Helena watched him leave the room with a worried frown on her face before slowly crossing to the window to stare out at the white landscape. She wasn’t happy at all about Josh going out in such weather but knew it would be useless to argue. He could be as stubborn as a mule when he set his mind to something – a trait he had inherited from his father – so all she could do for now was wait.

It was almost lunchtime when Josh once again knocked on the door of Martha’s cottage, and whilst he waited for it to be opened he noticed that all the curtains were tightly drawn all along the row. He assumed that someone must have passed away – and when Martha answered the door and ushered him inside he soon found out who it was.

‘My husband died last night,’ she told him in a hushed voice, and removing his hat, he quickly offered his condolences. It was more than clear that the family were as poor as church mice and he wondered how they would manage to pay for the man’s funeral.

‘I am very sorry to hear that, Mrs Mundy,’ he told her sincerely. ‘Have you instructed an undertaker to do the necessary yet?’

‘No, not yet,’ she said hesitantly and her answer told him all that he needed to know.

‘Then please allow me to approach him for you. It’s the least I can do under the circumstances. Had your daughter not accompanied my sister abroad she would be here still to help with the expenses, and there will be no cost to you, of course.’

Martha’s pride reared its ugly head and she bristled as she told him primly, ‘That is very kind of you but I don’t accept charity.’

Henry had come to join them by then and he laid his hand on her arm, saying quietly, ‘Don’t throw Master Josh’s kindness back in his face, Mother. Perhaps we could consider it as a loan until we are in a position to pay him back fully?’

She stared at her son as her thoughts raced. Even the cheapest coffin that Harry Boot the undertaker could supply would cost more than the meagre amount of money she had available and there would be nothing left at all for food for Christmas even though Henry was tipping up every penny of his wages, God bless him.

Seeing Martha hesitate, Josh rushed on, ‘That would be most acceptable. I could call and see the undertaker now on your behalf on the way to see if I can find Lennie Glover. I only called in on the off-chance that you might have heard from Maria.’

‘Very well then, I accept your offer – but only on the condition that it is a loan. Thank you kindly, sir.’ The woman then told him sadly, ‘And I am afraid we have heard nothing of Maria, and with every day that passes my fears are increasing. What if we never discover what has become of her and the baby?’

‘We will!’ Josh told her through gritted teeth. ‘I won’t stop searching for her until we do, I promise you.’

‘And I’ll come along and help,’ Henry told him now. ‘Just give me two minutes to get my boots and my coat on, and we’ll be off.’

Josh said he’d be glad of his company, so Henry hurried away and ten minutes later the two young men were back out in the lane battling their way through the thick snow.

‘We can try his mother’s house again,’ Josh said, ‘although I have visited her countless times already and she has denied even seeing him.’

‘I shouldn’t take too much notice of what old Ma Glover says,’ Henry panted. ‘She wouldn’t know the truth if it were to smack her atween the eyes. He’s probably been holing up there the whole time we’ve been searching for him. But it occurred to me that if we’re going to find him anywhere, we’ll find him in the Salutation of an evening. Lennie likes his drink, so if she denies seeing him again we’ll bide our time till the inn opens and try our luck there.’

‘Capital idea!’ called Josh, and they carried on in silence, intent on getting to the undertaker’s to order a coffin for Henry’s father.

*

‘There is an er . . . a
gentleman
here asking to see you, sir,’ Charles’s valet informed him as he entered the Smoking Room. Each club member was allocated their own valet for when they were resident at the club and Dawson had looked after Charles for as long as he could remember.

‘Really?’ Charles placed his cigar in the ashtray. ‘Did you get his name?’ He had no idea who might be asking for him.

Dawson shook his head. ‘He didn’t say, sir, but he looks rather a rough character if I am allowed to say so. Should I send him on his way?’

‘No, Dawson, I’ll see him. Send him through, would you?’

‘Very well, sir.’ Dawson bowed stiffly and hurried away.

Charles drew on his cigar, waiting. There was a tap at the door and Lennie Glover slid into the room, his eyes darting about as he took in the luxurious surroundings.

‘Oh, it’s you again, is it!’ Charles said impatiently. ‘What do you want this time, man?’

Lennie smirked as he twisted his cap in his hands. ‘Well, the thing is, guv’nor, that last bit o’ cash yer gave me didn’t last me long, what wi’ havin’ to look after me old mother an’ what not – so I were wonderin’ if yer could forward me a bit more.’

Dull colour crept into Charles’s cheeks as he struggled to control his temper. This vile little leech was sucking the life’s blood out of him and he had just about had enough. Lennie had already paid him three visits since he had assisted in the kidnap of Maria and Faith from the docks, and each time he had gone away with his pockets bulging in return for his silence, but Charles was at the end of his tether now. He was no man’s fool and it was time Lennie discovered it.

‘You have been handsomely paid and you have had all you are getting from me,’ he said firmly.

The smile slid from Lennie’s face and his expression became ugly. ‘I’m very sorry to ’ear that, your worship, ’cos it ’ud be a cryin’ shame should yer missus find out the hand you had to play in the babe’s disappearance, wouldn’t it?’

‘Are you
threatening
me?’ Charles hissed, but Lennie was in no way intimidated.

‘I wouldn’t put it quite that way,’ he sneered, studying his grimy fingernails, ‘but things ’ave a nasty way o’ gettin’ about, don’t they?’

‘GET OUT NOW!’ Charles roared. ‘Before I have you thrown out, you good-for-nothing piece of scum!’

‘Oh, I’ll go if that’s ’ow yer feel,’ Lennie retaliated. ‘But afore I do, I should warn yer, yer goin’ to regret this!’ And with that he turned and stormed from the room, leaving Charles to clench his hands into fists of rage.

‘Have my horse saddled and brought round to the front,’ Charles ordered Dawson when he reappeared in answer to the bell. Charles had spent the evening at his club but sleep had eluded him and he had tossed and turned as he fought with his conscience. But now at last, after Lennie’s visit, he knew what he must do and there was no time like the present. He pulled on his coat and his thick gloves.

‘Are you sure it is wise to venture out on the horse, sir?’ Dawson said cautiously. ‘I am told the roads out of town are impassable already and—’

‘Do as I say NOW, man!’ Charles thundered and Dawson scuttled away to speak to the stable-lad. It was no skin off his nose, he thought, if the arrogant fool chose to break his neck in the drifts. He pitied the horse though.

Fifteen minutes later Charles was astride his horse. He threw the shivering stable-lad a coin for his trouble.

‘Thank yer kindly, sir.’ The lad doffed his cap and hurried away to the comparative warmth of the stables, clutching his coin. Prince was skittish and obviously uncomfortable with the deep snow but Charles drove his heels into his flanks and urged him slowly forward, swiping the snow from his eyes as he went.

Lennie meanwhile had taken all the shortcuts across the fields towards Charles’s home. He knew the whole area like the back of his hand, and aware that Charles would try to beat him to Willow Park, he was eager for revenge. If he could get to Helena first and inform her where Maria and her grandchild were, he had no doubt that she would reward him handsomely and then he could make haste to Liverpool, slip aboard a ship – as a passenger this time – and be out of England in no time, a richer man. He would live like a king, in warmer climes.

When he came to a curve in Tuttle Hill he stopped to catch his breath in the icy air. This was the same path that Charles would take, Lennie knew – if only he could slow him down! And then an idea slowly formed in his mind . . . Taking a ball of string from his pocket, he carefully weighed it in his hand, thinking. Then he sprang into action. It took only a matter of minutes to stretch it across the path, securing it at each end, and pat the deep snow back into place to conceal it. And then he settled down behind a tree, to wait. It was bitterly cold and the light was already fast fading from the afternoon. Pulling the collar of his coat higher up his neck, he shuddered. His hands and feet were blue and he was beginning to lose the feeling in them, but he could be patient. If things went to plan, this time his prize would go beyond the sums that Charles had already paid him. He would soon have enough money to live like the toffs he envied so much.

*

‘Damn weather,’ Charles cursed beneath his breath as he urged his horse up the steep hill. Prince’s nostrils flared as he lifted his legs high and felt for the ground underneath his hooves, but now they were on the outskirts of the town and Charles pointed him in the direction of home.

‘Come on, damn you!’ he shouted at the horse as the snow deepened and the animal became more skittish. He was foaming at the mouth now and tossing his splendid head from side to side, but Charles drove him on relentlessly. When he reached home he intended to admit to Helena his part in Maria and the baby’s disappearance. After a lot of soul-searching he had realised that he still had strong feelings for his wife and that he had for many years behaved very selfishly, especially following the visit from Lennie. He prayed it would not be too late to make amends, even if it meant accepting his daughter’s flyblow into his home and allowing his son to marry the girl of his choice. Charles was a proud man and set in his ways, so he was aware that it was not going to be easy, but if the alternative was to lose his wife, he knew now that he could not risk it. Nor could he risk Lennie blackmailing him for the rest of his life.

‘Come on, Prince,’ he urged. They were on Tuttle Hill now and the snow was so deep that it was hard to tell where the lane ended and the deep ditches started. Charles knew that he should really dismount and lead the horse until they came to a safer stretch, but he had never been a patient man and he had no intention of changing now. Lifting his riding crop he brought it down hard on Prince’s rump and before he could stop him, the horse suddenly whinnied with terror and began to slide to the side.