Pit Bank Wench (31 page)

Reaching the crossroads with Holyhead Road the horse faltered as a steam trolley lumbered towards it. Beneath his breath, Carver swore as he quieted the frightened horse. Guiding it to the left and into the quieter trolley-free Union Street, he gave himself back to his memories of the evening before.

Melissa had been barely able to eat for talking of her conquest of Arthur Payne. He smiled again, remembering the black look that had settled over the older woman’s face. Surely she had not wanted Arthur for herself? No. He flicked the reins. Of one thing he was sure: Cara Holgate held no love for Arthur Payne!

‘Arthur and I are to be married.’ Melissa’s boast had brought a frown to her cousin’s brow but she had refused to be put off. ‘He is such a darling, and so generous, I swear I shall be quite spoiled.’

‘
Arthur is a fortunate man.
’ Carver had spoken to Melissa, but his eyes had been fixed on Cara and as he watched the emotions chase over her face he had experienced a warm surge of confidence. He had planned the game he would play with her, planned it to the last detail!

‘
. . . he cannot be blamed for wanting to spoil so pretty a wife.
’

‘
You would not believe what he insisted upon giving me for my wedding gift.
’ The boast became a crow and pale grey eyes glistened with the thrill of possession. ‘
He gave me the whole of his interest in the new canal. Imagine, Carver! I have a business in my own right, signed over to me as a gift.
’

‘
You have a
part
share in the business of the canal.
’ His reply had been cold, the emphasis heavy.

Melissa had smiled at him then but the smile had held daggers. She had taken the meaning contained in his words and it stung.

‘
Melissa meant
 . . .’ Cara had tried to divert her cousin from saying more but the intervention came too late. Her animosity aroused, Melissa bristled and in doing so confirmed what he already knew.

‘
I have one-third and Cara also owns one-third. That places the majority of the business in
our
hands, and also the majority vote as to how it should be run. As you said, I have only a part share but placed with Cara’s
 . . .’ She hesitated, her smile thin. ‘
It puts you, my dear Carver, very much in the minority!
’

His hands tightened on the reins, but it was not anger that firmed his mouth so much as determination.

‘Smile while you can,’ he breathed softly, ‘smile while you can!’

Bringing the carriage to a halt and giving charge of it to an ostler, he climbed the steps that led into the Conservative Club, handing gloves and cane to a uniformed attendant. He often chose to dine here and now acknowledged the greeting of other businessmen who like himself frequented the establishment.

‘There you be, Felton!’ Brandy glass in hand, Rafe Langton called to him as he passed beyond the reading room and into the tastefully furnished lounge. Accepting the offer of brandy, Carver settled into one of the comfortable hide-covered armchairs.

‘I trust Harriet is well? It has been some time since I had the pleasure of seeing her.’

‘Been some time since I had the pleasure!’ Brandy well on the way to achieving its end, Rafe roared at his own coarse wit. ‘Then it never were much of a pleasure with Harriet. Fortunately a man can find that elsewhere.’

Lifting his glass, Carver breathed in the bouquet of the brandy but every ounce of his concentration centred on his companion. Langton was in talkative mood. A few more drinks . . .

‘Yes, pleasures can be found.’ Carver nodded. ‘But travelling out of town . . .’

‘Travelling?’ Glass halfway to his mouth Langton laughed again, full scarlet cheeks wobbling with the effort. ‘Who said anything about travelling?’

His glance innocent, Carver looked up. ‘Then where?’

‘You knows where, you sly dog. Ain’t far to Cara’s place.’ Suddenly thoughtful, he stared across at Carver. ‘Just why did you . . . ? Well, I mean, a woman like that, why pass her on to another man? I thought you and her were thinking of being wed?’

‘I may have thought of being wed, but not to Cara. Should a man marry his mistress, Langton, where would his pleasures come from then?’

‘Where indeed?’ Rafe laughed. ‘I must thank you for your tip, Felton, but it were a bloody expensive one to follow.’

‘Regretting it?’

Downing his drink and ordering another loudly, Rafe shook his head, a lewd smile spreading into his whiskers. ‘Not so far, and if she continues to perform in the same vein then I’ll think it money well spent. It only be my bad luck she be entertaining tonight – summat to do wi’ her cousin’s property, so she said. Probably her solicitor.’

Watching brandy disappear down Langton’s throat, Carver said evenly, ‘I have no idea as to the others Cara has invited, I only know I have an invitation to call and bring a companion of my own choosing.’ Meeting the other man’s stare, he smiled. ‘We might arrive together but we need not leave so.’

‘Christ, Felton! Do you mean . . . ?’

‘I mean that after another brandy I shall be leaving for Cara Holgate’s house. Unless, of course, you prefer to dine here at the club then I invite you to accompany me.’

An hour later, following Langton into the carriage, Carver’s mood of confidence had deepened to satisfaction. He had just dealt the cards and given himself the winning hand.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘I thought you were gonna stand chewin’ the fat all night, Samuel Hollington! Don’t you know a biddy has supper to get?’

The shrill tones turning her attention from the tall figure now merging with the shadows, Emma felt pain shoot through her ankle as she swung round to face a plump woman dressed in wide black skirts and shawl, a tiny black bonnet perched on top of hair that was scraped back into a bun.

‘You might ’ave nothing better to do than gawp after a man, young woman, but there be some folk have more important things to tend to!’

The woman delved into her basket, taking out a black leather purse before sending a keen glance at Emma.

‘Now then, Mother Timms, we all know your Ben and his lads will be in the tavern ’til chucking out time.’ Samuel smiled genially. ‘So what do you say to a nice piece of rump steak?’

‘I says you can keep it!’ The woman’s button-bright eyes glinted as she looked at him. ‘Since when can a biddy afford steak? You slice me up a pound of belly draught, and make sure it has plenty of fat on it. My lads like a bite of pork dripping for breakfast.’

Lifting down a large piece of meat from a billhook suspended over the stall, Samuel cut several thick slices, handing them to Emma to wrap.

Offering a coin the woman hesitated then looked once more at Samuel. ‘Find me out a nice lean breast of lamb, that’ll make tomorrow’s dinner . . .’

‘Eh up, Mother Timms!’ Samuel’s whiskers lifted as he grinned at the woman. ‘Don’t you go telling me your Ben likes a bit of breast?’

‘Oh, he’d like it all right, but I ain’t got much left in that department, and if he can’t find a bit for free then he’d sooner do wi’out. My Ben won’t go spending his coppers on anything but his ale.’

Both of them laughing together, Samuel reached for a small cleaver. ‘You want this chopped, Mother Timms?’

‘Arr Hollington, that will be a help to me.’ She smiled at Emma. ‘He be a good man be Hollington.’

‘He might ’ave a chance to be a good man to a few more if you made your mind up quicker. There be folk ’ere wants to get on ’ome!’

Mother Timms turned slowly, wide skirts rustling, button eyes raking the small group of last-minute shoppers.

‘You want to be served sooner?’ Her voice rose, loud and asperic. ‘Then you should come to market sooner instead of sittin’ home on your arses drinking tea!’

‘I
don’t
spend my time sittin’ on my arse drinking tea!’

Cleaver held in the air, Samuel winked at Emma who had turned a worried glance to him.

Beyond the stall the black-clad woman scanned the group with a sharp irritated glance before settling on the one who had dared interrupt her nightly banter with the butcher. Eyeing the other woman up and down with a slow deliberate motion she nodded, setting the bonnet waggling on her head. ‘No, you don’t look as if you’ve been sat on your arse. Looks more like you’ve been lying on your back all day!’

‘Now then ladies, we don’t need any argument.’ Samuel brought down the cleaver as a burst of laughter filled the night air.

‘Don’t you go tellin’ folk what they need!’ The second woman directed her words at him. ‘’Tis time somebody told that old cow where to get off!’

‘This old cow still be strong enough to wring your scrawny neck, you big-mouthed . . .’

A scream cutting her off in mid-sentence the older woman turned to see Emma, hands clenched into fists she had pressed against her mouth, staring at the block on which Samuel chopped his meat.

Screams rising in a chorus around her, Emma’s stomach lurched as she lifted her agonised gaze to the butcher. The cleaver glistening in the candlelight was still raised above his head, but his face wore a look of disbelief.

‘Lord! Oh, Lord!’ a woman whimpered. Another sobbed, ‘Oh, dear God!’

But no one moved, even the blood-stained cleaver remained suspended in mid air. Then Samuel laughed, a short confused sound as he looked first at his bleeding wrist then his hand . . . lying severed on the chopping block.

‘You must lie still, Emma, there’s nothing you can do.’ Face creased with concern, Daisy pressed her down on to the pillows.

‘But Mr Hollington . . .’

‘He be at Hallam Hospital,’ Daisy answered, replacing the bed covers Emma had thrown aside.

‘What about Mrs Hollington . . . does she know what happened?’

‘She knows. She be there with him now.’

‘I don’t remember.’ Emma shook her head. ‘I . . . I saw . . . but I don’t remember.’

‘Ain’t surprising, seeing as you fainted.’ Daisy bustled about with kettle and teapot. ‘Went out like a candle in the wind so Liam Brogan said.’

Passing a hand over her forehead, Emma tried to soothe the pounding in her brain. ‘Mr Brogan? But he had gone . . .’

Adding milk then sugar to the cups she reached from the rickety dresser, Daisy filled them to the brim with scalding hot tea.

‘Arr, but not so far away he didn’t hear the screams. He ran back to see what the commotion was and found you flat on the ground and poor old Mr Hollington staring at . . . well, you know what he was staring at. Any road up, a few seconds later some men came to the stall. Liam sent one of them to bring a constable to see off the women still screaming and crying, then set another in a hansom along of Mr Hollington. Told him to stay by him at the hospital until he got there himself.’

Taking up both cups, she handed one to Emma with a curt instruction to drink it.

‘After that he saw to bringing you home,’ Daisy went on between sips of tea. ‘Near give me heart attack it did to see you laid across that handcart. He said you was all right, just fainted, then told me what had happened and said as he would go along with Mrs Hollington to the hospital. He looked wondrous pale when he carried you in, Emma, and he laid you down on the bed that careful like, you would think he was handling a china doll.’

Liam Brogan had brought her home. Emma frowned with the effort of trying to remember. She had watched him walk away, listened to those women bicker, and then . . . but the rest was too painful to think of.

‘We should be with her.’ Emma laid her cup aside. ‘Mrs Hollington should not be alone at the hospital, she needs someone with her.’

‘Liam knew you would say that. He said to tell you he will stay as long as it takes, all night if need be; then he will see Mrs Hollington back to the house. He also said to tell you both that the cart be put away and the tin box that holds the takings be on the dresser in the kitchen. As for the knives and things, I washed them meself.’

‘Thank you, Daisy.’

‘Found me something to do while you was . . .’ Daisy broke off, her eyes clouding with sudden tears. ‘Eh, Emma! I was so scared when I saw you, I thought at first you was in labour with the child, and then when you didn’t move or make a sound I thought you was dead. Lord, Emma! The shock near finished me.’

The child! Emma touched a hand to her stomach, remembering the sickening lurch it had made as she had looked at Samuel’s severed hand. Had that terrible sight affected the child in her womb? Stories told by the pit bank women of children born with defects caused by experiences that had terrified the mother while she was carrying came crowding in on her.

‘
. . . there is a child within you . . .
’

The words sounded clear in her head, clear as when Jerusha has spoken them.

‘
. . . a child that will be born . . .
’

Emma closed her eyes against the memory. Her child would be born, but would it be whole?

‘If you are sure you feel well enough to be left for a minute or so then I’ll go and put some coals on the fire over at the house. Mrs Hollington will want it warm to come back to.’

Afraid the sight of tears she could not entirely restrain would add to Emma’s grief, Daisy hastily carried the cups to the sink.

‘She’ll appreciate that.’ Emma tried to smile but the fear inside her was too strong.

Climbing from the bed as the door closed behind her friend, Emma reached for her skirts.

Liam Brogan had run back to the butcher’s stall. He had taken charge, seen the injured man off to hospital then brought her home. Had he asked about her husband? Emma’s fingers paused on the buttons of her blouse. He had called her Mrs Price as he’d left the stall. He’d thought she was married, that her child had a father.

‘
. . . it will bear its father’s name . . .
’

Clear as before Jerusha’s words echoed in her mind.