some extra jobs.’
There was the sound of chairs scraping across the red quarry tiles as everyone rose hastily from their seats and scurried off in different directions. Muttering oaths beneath her breath, Mary made her way back to the laundry. Damn and blast Mrs Benn. She had just been starting to enjoy herself. Not only that, she’d made such a hasty exit that she’d left half of one of Cook’s home-made scones on her plate. She pictured it, all dripping with butter and freshly made strawberry jam …
‘That Mrs Benn’s a bit of a tartar, ain’t she?’ she remarked to Alice, who was helping her with a particularly heavy batch of laundry. ‘Makes me wonder who is the boss in this house, her or the mistress.’
Alice giggled. ‘I reckon it’s Mrs Benn every time. One word from her an’ the lot of us jump. It’s her that’s responsible fer the hirin’ and firin’ so no one wants to upset her.’
‘An’ what about this here Miss Jessica?’
The smile slid from Alice’s face as she quickly looked around the yard to make sure that they couldn’t be overheard. ‘Least said about her the better. If the master so much as hears her name mentioned he goes off into a mood an’ the poor mistress falls into one o’ her swoons.’
‘But why?’ The sound of the laundry-room door slamming behind Alice was Mary’s only answer. Shrugging her shoulders she followed her.
Chapter Four
1845
Grabbing the handles of the old perambulator salvaged from Bessie’s coalhouse, Amy gave it a mighty tug and dragged it across the step and into the kitchen. The rain was coming down in great blistering sheets and both she and Molly were soaked to the skin.
Molly looked totally worn out, so leading her to the old rocking chair at the side of the hearth, Amy took off her gran’s outer clothing and then pressed her down on to it. She then took up the bellows and blew life into the fading embers before throwing a log on to the weak flames. Once she was sure that the flames had caught, she pushed the kettle into the heart of the fire.
You know, Gran, you shouldn’t have gone out in this weather. I’m quite capable of pickin’ a few logs and a bit of coal by myself.’ She was undoing the laces of Molly’s well-worn boots as she spoke and Molly smiled at her gratefully as she pushed her frozen feet towards the warmth of the flames.
‘Stop frettin’. There’s nothing much wrong wi’ me, lass. I’m just tired, that’s all.’
Amy was not so sure, but she had no time to comment because just then Toby entered, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘By, it’s wicked out there!’ he exclaimed, shivering. ‘It’s raining cats an’ dogs.’ Then, as he noted Amy’s wet clothes, ‘You’ve never been out in this, have yer?’ he asked, eyeing the contents of the pram, then without waiting for an answer he said sternly, ‘There was no need for you to go out an’ get that. You know I’d have gone and got it for you.’
‘I know you would, Toby, but I’m quite able to pick coal meself. I just wish Gran hadn’t insisted on coming along, that’s all. Besides, you already do enough for us as it is.’
Toby sighed. ‘Stubborn as mules you both are, that’s your trouble,’ he grumbled, although he was smiling. He could never help but smile when he looked at Amy, for even with her hair soaked and flat to her head, she was beautiful. He still came as regular as clockwork every evening, and over the last months, Amy didn’t know what she would have done without him – or Molly, for that matter.
Of late, Molly’s hands had become twisted with arthritis and she was forced to sit longer and longer at her loom each day to make ends meet. It had happened gradually over the last two or three years, and Amy was gravely concerned about her. Even after she had finished the steaming hot tea that Amy placed in her hands, she still looked all in and the girl patted her arm lovingly.
‘Why don’t you turn in, Gran?’
There was the sound of chairs scraping across the red quarry tiles as everyone rose hastily from their seats and scurried off in different directions. Muttering oaths beneath her breath, Mary made her way back to the laundry. Damn and blast Mrs Benn. She had just been starting to enjoy herself. Not only that, she’d made such a hasty exit that she’d left half of one of Cook’s home-made scones on her plate. She pictured it, all dripping with butter and freshly made strawberry jam …
‘That Mrs Benn’s a bit of a tartar, ain’t she?’ she remarked to Alice, who was helping her with a particularly heavy batch of laundry. ‘Makes me wonder who is the boss in this house, her or the mistress.’
Alice giggled. ‘I reckon it’s Mrs Benn every time. One word from her an’ the lot of us jump. It’s her that’s responsible fer the hirin’ and firin’ so no one wants to upset her.’
‘An’ what about this here Miss Jessica?’
The smile slid from Alice’s face as she quickly looked around the yard to make sure that they couldn’t be overheard. ‘Least said about her the better. If the master so much as hears her name mentioned he goes off into a mood an’ the poor mistress falls into one o’ her swoons.’
‘But why?’ The sound of the laundry-room door slamming behind Alice was Mary’s only answer. Shrugging her shoulders she followed her.
Chapter Four
1845
Grabbing the handles of the old perambulator salvaged from Bessie’s coalhouse, Amy gave it a mighty tug and dragged it across the step and into the kitchen. The rain was coming down in great blistering sheets and both she and Molly were soaked to the skin.
Molly looked totally worn out, so leading her to the old rocking chair at the side of the hearth, Amy took off her gran’s outer clothing and then pressed her down on to it. She then took up the bellows and blew life into the fading embers before throwing a log on to the weak flames. Once she was sure that the flames had caught, she pushed the kettle into the heart of the fire.
You know, Gran, you shouldn’t have gone out in this weather. I’m quite capable of pickin’ a few logs and a bit of coal by myself.’ She was undoing the laces of Molly’s well-worn boots as she spoke and Molly smiled at her gratefully as she pushed her frozen feet towards the warmth of the flames.
‘Stop frettin’. There’s nothing much wrong wi’ me, lass. I’m just tired, that’s all.’
Amy was not so sure, but she had no time to comment because just then Toby entered, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘By, it’s wicked out there!’ he exclaimed, shivering. ‘It’s raining cats an’ dogs.’ Then, as he noted Amy’s wet clothes, ‘You’ve never been out in this, have yer?’ he asked, eyeing the contents of the pram, then without waiting for an answer he said sternly, ‘There was no need for you to go out an’ get that. You know I’d have gone and got it for you.’
‘I know you would, Toby, but I’m quite able to pick coal meself. I just wish Gran hadn’t insisted on coming along, that’s all. Besides, you already do enough for us as it is.’
Toby sighed. ‘Stubborn as mules you both are, that’s your trouble,’ he grumbled, although he was smiling. He could never help but smile when he looked at Amy, for even with her hair soaked and flat to her head, she was beautiful. He still came as regular as clockwork every evening, and over the last months, Amy didn’t know what she would have done without him – or Molly, for that matter.
Of late, Molly’s hands had become twisted with arthritis and she was forced to sit longer and longer at her loom each day to make ends meet. It had happened gradually over the last two or three years, and Amy was gravely concerned about her. Even after she had finished the steaming hot tea that Amy placed in her hands, she still looked all in and the girl patted her arm lovingly.
‘Why don’t you turn in, Gran?’
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