Cherry Tree Lane (10 page)

‘Very well.’ Emily went to stand by the window and watch Jacob work. She’d never seen him idle.

She made a cup of tea, chatted for a while, wanting to get to know the young woman better. As she walked slowly home, she admitted she felt rather tired today. She was getting old and it was frustrating not to be able to do all she wanted.

When she drew level with Jacob at the top corner of the field, she stopped and called, ‘Can you come up to see me tonight for an hour? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’

‘Yes, of course. After tea be all right?’

‘That’ll be fine.’

She was very thoughtful as she walked home. She was sure she’d found the solution to Jacob’s problems, but he was such a stubborn man. How was she to persuade him to do as she wished?

After tea Jacob strolled up to the big house, enjoying the cooler air, glad the evenings were so much lighter now. He’d left Mattie helping Sarah read one of her story books, and Luke pretending not to be interested but listening all the same.

He went round to the kitchen door and found Lyddie clearing up while Cook toasted herself in front of the fire.

Lyddie greeted him as cheerfully as ever. ‘Miss Newington is expecting you, Mr Kemble. Did you hear about our intruders? Isn’t it exciting? Miss Newington’s ever so brave. She keeps a shotgun in her bedroom an’ she used it last night. Me an’ Cook go to bed with our pokers right next to us an’ our doors locked. Do you think they’ll come back again tonight?’

‘Stop gossiping and take Mr Kemble through to the mistress,’ Cook said. ‘It’s her he’s come to see, not you.’

Jacob stopped beside her to ask, ‘Are you all right?’

She nodded. ‘But I don’t know what it’s coming to when a person has to use guns to keep their house safe in a Christian country. It’s not as if we’re ignorant heathens, is it? I mean, this is England!’

Smiling, he walked after Lyddie.

Miss Newington was sitting in the small drawing room at one side of the front of the house. It was shabby but still had a touch of elegance, and was decorated in colours which reminded Jacob of sweet peas just coming into bloom. Most folk used darker colours to be practical, but he supposed rich people didn’t need to worry as much about such things. He’d never been in this part of the house before, though he’d supplied the former owner with fresh produce from time to time after old Mr Newington turned off most of the staff. Miss Newington usually received him in the morning room at the back, where they went through the accounts on the table where she ate her meals.

They didn’t need as much of his fresh stuff these days at the big house, so Jacob took care to grow things that sold well at market in Swindon, including a few fancier items such as asparagus and artichokes for the better class of greengrocer. He picked his runner beans young and laid out his strawberries in little baskets, with leaves tucked in each side, or he had done when Alice was there to help him. He’d been improving his income gradually but since her death it had slipped back a bit.

When he was seated, Miss Newington stared at him disapprovingly. ‘You most certainly do need a wife, Jacob Kemble. Just look at you!’ She flicked one hand towards the big mirror over the mantelpiece.

He glanced at it quickly, shocked to see how scruffy his clothes looked, even though they were clean. ‘Well, I don’t want one. And even if I did, there’s no one suitable in the village. I’d not touch a woman like that Essie Jupe, nor let her near my children.’

‘I’d not ask you to. She’s a shrew. But there is one woman who might be suitable.’

He frowned at her, racking his brain to think who she meant. But he couldn’t come up with anyone, even on the outlying farms or among the people he dealt with in Swindon. ‘Who do you mean?’

She clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘The woman you found in the lane, of course. Mattie Willitt.’

He couldn’t frame a single word, so amazed was he. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

‘You must have a wife if you want that job – no, don’t argue, I’m not employing a man who can’t turn himself out smartly, not when he’ll be dealing with moneyed folk. Just think about it for a minute or two. Poor Mattie is homeless. She’s not a shrew, and she gets on well with your children. I’d guess she’s a hard worker, because she’s already trying to pay you back by doing your mending. And she’s a fine-looking young woman. You’re not telling me you’re not attracted to her. I’ve seen the way you look at her. So what could be more suitable?’

He racked his brain for something to counter her arguments, could only come up with, ‘But we don’t know anything about her.’ And even to himself it sounded feeble, both the argument and his tone of voice. ‘She’s not got the marks of a wedding ring, though,’ he added before he could stop himself. He felt hot and flustered, didn’t like the knowing smile on the old lady’s face. ‘I can’t go marrying someone I’ve only just met.’

She folded her arms. ‘Very well. If you’re not going to even try, I’ll find someone else to look after this house for me.’

He looked at her face and knew she meant it. She was a stubborn woman and used to getting her own way. He ought to have said no to getting wed, said it straight out, couldn’t think why he hadn’t. Well, if truth be told, his thoughts were in such a tangle he didn’t know what to say or do. Because he did like Mattie Willitt. And he did need a wife.

Miss Newington stood up, saying calmly, ‘Well, I’ve got things to do even if you haven’t.’

He thought of all the benefits the job she was offering would bring, and in the end he said desperately, ‘What if Mattie doesn’t want to marry me?’

Miss Newington sat down again but her smile made him feel like an insect caught in a spider’s web. ‘You haven’t spoken to her already?’ he asked in horror, because if she had, he didn’t know how he’d face Mattie when he returned.

‘No. But I can do so tomorrow.’

‘I can speak for myself – if I decide … anything.’

‘In this case, Jacob Kemble, you’d do better with an intermediary.’

‘I’ll not have you threatening her or forcing her.’

‘She’s a determined sort of woman who ran away, ill as she was, rather than face a forced marriage with a man she disliked. I doubt that I or anyone else will be able to compel that woman to marry you if she doesn’t want to. So I’ll speak to her calmly and quietly about the possibility in the morning and you’re not to say a word about this until I do. I want your promise on that.’

He nodded. He could only hope Mattie would say no or Miss Newington change her mind or that he’d think of some better argument for not rushing into marriage with a stranger. ‘I’m still not sure.’

‘You’re a young man, Jacob. You need a wife. And Mattie needs a home.’

He found himself unable to summon up any further arguments. ‘I’ll be leaving, then.’ He stood up, then turned to ask, ‘What if the intruders come back tonight?’

‘I’ve got my gun and Horace is also armed. We’ll not be taken by surprise. No one is going to take my land from me. I’m going into Swindon tomorrow to make arrangements with my lawyer for a new will. When I inform my cousin what I’ve done, I think he’ll stop these attacks.’

She didn’t volunteer any more information, just escorted Jacob to the front door. He heard a key turn and bolts slide behind him. But you couldn’t put bolts on window glass, could you? And windows were easy to break. It was a worry to think of an old lady like her alone at the house, with only the servants, two of them old and one very young.

He had his own family to look after, though. If there were intruders around, he didn’t want them breaking into his home. Only he’d not heard of any other burglaries, just the attacks on the big house.

He walked back through the moonlit night, 0moving slowly because he had a lot to think about. He could sense spring doing its work around him, plants bursting forth, birds nesting, insects teeming. He stopped to lean on his own gate and stare across his field of carefully planted vegetables, fruit canes and bushes. It was wonderful the way things burst into life in the spring.

The thought couldn’t be held back any longer.
What would he do if Mattie said yes to Miss Newington’s suggestion?

His body twitched at the thought and with a soft sigh he admitted to himself that he was definitely attracted to her. But was that enough? He’d gone to school with Alice and they’d walked out together for two years before he’d plucked up the courage to propose.

He simply couldn’t imagine marrying a stranger and living so intimately together.

But he did like her … and he didn’t want to lose this opportunity of a better job, either, for the children’s sake … and Mattie had nowhere to go, no one to care for her. He couldn’t turn her loose in the world.

What was a man to do?

When he went back into the house, all was quiet. A lamp was turned low on the dresser and the fire was banked up. Luke would have seen to that. He was a good lad, but someone had swept up the ashes from the hearth, and Luke never noticed details like that. Had Mattie done that or had she suggested his son do it?

Jacob’s eyes were still used to the dim light outside so he didn’t bother taking the lamp as he peered into the front room to see if she was all right. There was enough moonlight spilling round the drooping curtain to show him how peacefully she was sleeping.

She looked so pretty he lingered there, studying her face. Then his eyes went back to the curtain and he realised why the moonlight was getting in. How long had it been hanging loose like that at the edge and why hadn’t he noticed it before? Something was wrong with the end of the runner; he’d have to fix it when he had a minute. Only he never seemed to have a minute to spare.

He might have if he married, though.

He locked the back door, checked that Sarah had put the porridge pot on the edge of the hob to cook gently overnight and crept up to bed. But he didn’t get to sleep for a long time because Miss Newington’s suggestion had thrown both his mind and body into turmoil.

He was only thirty-one and his body had been making its needs plain for a while. The idea of marrying Mattie didn’t seem as bad now he’d got over the shock. In fact, the thought of having a wife again was growing on him. No, not a wife, not any woman – her.

What would the children say? Should he do it? Would Mattie agree to marry him? And if she did, would she feel forced into it? That was the last thing he wanted for her.

Round and round his thoughts went and it was a long time before he got to sleep.

In the morning Jacob was tired and no closer to reaching a decision. He supervised the children’s preparations for school, as usual. He was about to carry breakfast to his guest when the door to her room opened and she came out, pale still but again with a hint of colour in her cheeks. Definitely on the mend, thank goodness.

‘Sit down and I’ll get you something to eat. There’s some porridge left or you could have bread and jam.’

‘Porridge would be fine.’

‘We have it every morning,’ he said apologetically. ‘Cooks itself overnight, so it’s easy. We usually put a spoonful of golden syrup on it, or honey, and cream of course.’

‘Porridge is very nourishing. Thank you. I’ll … um … just nip outside first.’

When she got back, she washed her hands in the scullery and sat down. He watched as she poured a little cream over the porridge. ‘Take more. We’ve always got plenty of milk and cream because I trade fruit and vegetables for them with a neighbouring farmer. We never lack food, at least, even if I don’t iron our clothes very often.’

She allowed herself some more cream and took a spoonful of golden syrup, dropping it neatly into the middle. ‘This is a real treat. I’m feeling very hungry this morning.’

‘That’s good.’ He poured them both a cup of tea and sat sipping his, wondering what she’d say when Miss Newington broached the idea, wondering if he should try to prepare her. No, he’d given his word not to mention it.

In the end, he set down his cup. ‘I’ll get out to work, then. I’ll be back to make you something to eat at midday.’

‘Thank you. But if you’ll tell me what you want, I’ll make yours. I’m sure I can manage that. If you have some vegetables, I could put some soup on to simmer.’

‘That’d be a rare treat. We’ve a few shreds of ham on a bone. You could add that for flavour. Are you sure you’re up to it?’

‘I shan’t overdo things.’

When he’d gone, Mattie continued to eat her porridge slowly and with relish. What had made him so stiff this morning? Did he wish to be rid of her? She didn’t think she could walk far yet, let alone find herself a job. And she had very little money, one week’s housekeeping only, not nearly enough to tide her over until she was well again.

No, he’d said they had bedrooms in the attic, that she could stay and be their housekeeper. Perhaps he’d changed his mind. Or perhaps he wasn’t cheerful in the mornings. Some people weren’t.

She pushed the bowl away, not able to finish the huge helping he’d given her. She hated to waste it, so covered the bowl with a plate, then cleared up the kitchen a little. But even that much exertion left her tired and then the coughing started again.

Still, she’d helped out a bit and if she had a rest, she’d be able to do more of the mending before she put some soup on for the midday meal.

She must show him she wouldn’t be a burden.

Emily nodded to Jacob as she walked through the gate and along the neat gravel path to his front door. The plants looked to be flourishing. He certainly had a way with them.

She opened the kitchen door and found Mattie sitting by the window with a basket of crumpled clothes at her feet, darning a sock. Good sign, that. Emily couldn’t abide idleness in young or old. ‘Good morning, my dear. How are you feeling today?’

‘A little better as long as I don’t do too much. I started to clear up the kitchen, then had to lie down and rest. I fell asleep for a while.’

‘You’re doing well, though, looking a lot better. You can’t hurry nature. Give yourself time to recover.’ She sniffed. ‘Something smells good.’