A Mother's Courage (4 page)

Eloise could hardly speak as her lips were
already numbed with cold. The wind seemed to
cut straight through her thin woollen mantle and
she cuddled the children closer to her. 'I think
so.'

The old man eyed her with some sympathy.
'Let me see if there's a carriage waiting for you
then, ma'am. You'll want to get the little ones
inside out of the cold.' He led the way along the
almost deserted platform to a waiting room
where a coal fire blazed up the chimney. 'You
wait in here while I go and take a look outside.'

Eloise went to sit by the fire, thankful at least
that Beth was still sleeping, and she lifted Joss
onto the seat beside her, holding him close as his
head lolled against her. She was tired, cold and
hungry, not having eaten anything since
breakfast, and then she had only managed to
swallow a couple of mouthfuls of toast. She
could still see the tears glistening in her mother's
eyes as she tried to make conversation at the
breakfast table. It had been a gloomy meal and
Papa had barely spoken at all, except to promise
to send a telegram to Cribb's Hall, asking them to
meet the London train. A spark shot out of the
fire and lay glowing on the tiles in the grate.
Eloise stared it at until its bright light turned to
ash. That was how her life seemed to be right
now. She had left everyone she loved in London,
and in a few days' time her parents would be on
board ship bound for Mombasa. Mama had
promised to write every day, but they had both
known that letters could take weeks, even
months, to reach England, if at all. Papa's
mission was at a place with an unpronounceable
name which was many miles from the nearest
town. Eloise tried hard not to think about the
dangers that might beset them. Wild animals,
poisonous snakes, disease – the list was terrifying
and endless.

She turned with a start as the door opened. It
was not the friendly face of the aged porter but
another, equally elderly man, with weather-beaten
features that seemed to have been
knapped from flint. 'Come with me, missis.'
Without waiting for her reply, he picked up her
luggage and left the waiting room, leaving the
door to swing back on its hinges so that she had
to wedge it open with the toe of her boot.

Eloise was too overwrought and nervous to
complain. With both children clasped in her
arms she followed the old man along the dimly
lit platform, out through the main booking office
onto the station forecourt where a ponderous
and old-fashioned carriage was waiting for
them. A young lad who had been holding the
horses leapt forward to open the door for her
while the coachman tossed her luggage onto the
box.

'Here lady, let me hold the young 'un while
you get in.'

She was hampered by her long skirts and
Eloise reluctantly allowed the boy to hold Joss
while she climbed the steps and settled herself on
the seat. 'Thank you,' she said, as he laid the
sleeping Joss on her lap. 'What is your name,
boy?'

'Ted, miss. I'm stable boy at Cribb's Hall.'

'Thank you, Ted.' She managed a wan smile as
he grinned at her and tipped his cap before
closing the carriage door. She leaned back
against the squabs that smelt oddly musty with a
faint hint of pipe tobacco and Macassar oil
lingering in the well-worn leather, but at least it
was a few degrees warmer inside than outside.
As the coach lurched forward, Eloise clung to her
babies for dear life. She could not imagine what
lay before them as the vehicle lumbered
onwards, plunging into pitch darkness when the
street lights came to a sudden end. It was a
moonless night and she could see nothing
outside the windows except the flashing of the
carriage lamps reflected in the snow, as the
carriage jolted over ruts and potholes in the road.
She drifted into the sleep of sheer exhaustion but
was awakened some time later by the sound of
voices and a cold blast of air as the carriage door
was wrenched open. Feeling dazed and disorientated,
Eloise allowed Ted to take Joss while
she stepped down onto hard-packed snow. She
blinked in the sudden light from the blazing
flambeaux that illuminated the imposing and
rather awesome frontage of the Gothic mansion.
The leaping flames of the torches reflected eerily
in the panes of the tall windows, creating the
illusion of lighted candles held in unseen hands
as if ghosts were performing a stately dance in
the empty rooms. Even the red-brick walls
seemed to glow as though the whole building
was on fire and the snow surrounding the
mansion was tinged with crimson, like spilt
blood. Eloise suppressed a shudder as she gazed
up at the turrets and gargoyles glaring down at
her from the roof.

'Go on up, ma'am,' Ted said, handing Joss back
to her. 'They're expecting you in the big house.'
He tipped his cap and hurried to answer a
summons from the irate coachman. Eloise
couldn't hear what the man said, but it was
enough to make Ted snap into action. The
carriage drew away, heading towards the stable
block, and she was left standing alone at the foot
of the wide sweep of stone steps with her cases
on the ground beside her. For a moment she
thought that no one had noticed her arrival, but
then the double doors of the main entrance were
flung open and a woman in a severe black gown
stood in the doorway. She held an oil lamp in one
hand and she beckoned to Eloise. 'Come on in
then, if you're coming. Or do you want to spend
the night on the doorstep?'

Shocked by the woman's brusque tone, Eloise
carried the children up the steps, pausing at the
top to stare at the person who had addressed her
in such a rude way. 'I beg your pardon, ma'am.
But I thought I was expected here.'

'Of course you are. Come inside and let me
close the door.'

'My luggage,' Eloise protested.

'It will be dealt with, never fear.' She looked
Eloise up and down as if she were evaluating
the cost of her outfit. 'So you are Ronald's
widow.'

Eloise swallowed hard. She had thought this
woman must be the housekeeper, but she did not
appear to be a servant, despite the chatelaine
holding a bunch of keys which hung from her
waist. 'I am Eloise Cribb, but you have the
advantage over me, ma'am.'

'Such a grand lady and yet only a parson's
daughter without two pennies to rub together,
judging by the clothes she wears. I suppose our
Ronald was taken in by a pretty face.'

'I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, but you
have no right to speak to me in this manner.'

'So, you're not as soft as you look. You'll need
a bit of spirit if you're going to survive in this
house. I am Ronald's aunt, Joan Braithwaite.' She
turned on her heel, calling over her shoulder.
'My sister is waiting for you in the parlour.
Follow me.'

She led the way across the entrance hall, which
was as ornate and oppressive as the exterior of
the house. Stuffed animal heads and sets of
antlers hung from the oak panelling, and the
sound of their footsteps on the red, white and
black tiled floor came back as an echo from the
dark recesses of the upper floors. Eloise glanced
upwards, and for a moment she thought she saw
a pale face peering at her over the carved oak
balustrade. She quickened her pace in order to
keep up with Joan and the feeble gleam of the oil
lamp. Joss was snivelling softly with his face
pressed against her neck and she could feel his
small body rigid with fatigue. Only Beth slept on
oblivious of their new surroundings.

Joan opened a door on the far side of the hall
and went inside. Eloise followed her into the
large, high-ceilinged room lit by paraffin lamps
and candles. 'She's come,' Joan said, setting the
lamp down on a side table. 'Can't you stop that
child crying? It's making my head ache and
you've only been in the house for a few
minutes.'

An angry retort rose to Eloise's lips, but before
she could speak her mother-in-law rose from her
chair by the fireside. She shot a quelling glance at
her sister. 'That's our little Ronald you're talking
about, Joan.'

'You're mistaken, ma'am,' Eloise said, hardly
able to believe her ears. 'My son is called Joseph.
We call him Joss.'

Hilda drew herself up to her full height. 'He is
Ronald's son and heir, and he will be known as
Ronald from now on. You are welcome to stay in
my house, Eloise, but you are only here on
sufferance because you are the mother of my
grandchildren.'

'Ronald should have married a Yorkshire lass,'
Joan muttered, scowling. 'We have no time for
soft southerners here, miss.'

Looking from one hostile face to the other,
Eloise felt as though she had walked into a
nightmare. No one in all her life had treated her
with such open contempt and dislike. She was
numbed with fatigue and faint with hunger. If it
had not been so cold and dark outside, and if
Cribb's Hall had been closer to town, she would
have walked out there and then. Anger roiled in
her stomach. 'You have made it obvious that I am
unwelcome here, ma'am. If my presence is so
odious to you both, I will leave here in the
morning and take the train back to London.'

'That's right,' Joan sneered. 'Run away back to
your mama. Except that you cannot, because
your folks have abandoned you.'

'That's enough, you vinegar-tongued old
witch,' Hilda said, turning on her sister with her
lips curled in a feral snarl. 'This is my house and
you are here under sufferance too, don't you
forget it.'

'I won't forget it because you never let me,'
Joan hissed.

'No, I won't, because if I hadn't taken you in
you would have had to go into service.'

'I am in service, you bitch. Who runs this
house? Answer me that. I do, and I do it for nowt.
You won't get cheaper than that.'

'And I have to put up with your miserable face
every day of my life,' Hilda shot back at her.

Eloise stared at them in disbelief. They were
goading each other like two wildcats. If they had
fur she was certain that their hackles would be
raised. Any minute now she expected them to
tear at each other with their claws. She cleared
her throat. 'Excuse me, but all I ask is a bed for
the night for myself and the little ones.
Tomorrow I'll leave, and you will never be
bothered with us again.'

Hilda turned to her, staring as if she had only
just realised that she was in the room. 'No need
to adopt that high and mighty tone, my girl. You
are Ronald's widow and the mother of his
children. Where else would you go?' She retired
to her chair by the fire. 'Joan, ring for Mabel and
ask her to show Eloise to her room. You can take
the little ones to the nursery.'

'What?' Eloise backed towards the door, holding
the children to her with real fear gripping at
her heart. 'No, I won't hear of it. My babies sleep
with me. I won't have them shut up in a strange
room.'

Joss began to wail in earnest, and awakened by
his shrieks so close to her ear, Beth too began to
cry.

'Good grief, are we to put up with this?' Joan
stormed. 'The sooner you get a girl from the
village to act as nursemaid the better, Hilda.'

'My babies sleep with me,' Eloise shouted,
close to panic. 'And I will care for them. I won't
have them looked after by a stranger.'

'You'll do as you're told when you're under
my roof,' Hilda said with narrowed eyes. 'But,
for tonight perhaps it's best that you keep them
with you.'

'Thank you,' Eloise said weakly. Her nerves
were shattered and she was close to collapse. All
she wanted to do was to lie down in a warm bed
holding her babies in her arms. Tomorrow, she
would think about what to do next, but for now
sleep was what she craved.

Joan pushed past her to tug at a bell pull. 'The
girl will take you to your room.'

'Have you eaten?' Hilda demanded. 'We have
our tea at five o'clock on the dot. We keep regular
hours here in Cribb's Hall, but if you and the boy
need food, Mabel will oblige.'

Inexplicably, this modicum of kindness brought
tears to Eloise's eyes. 'Thank you, ma'am.'

'If you're to live here with us, then you shall
call me Mother,' Hilda said, inclining her head
regally, as if this were a huge honour. 'And I
shall call you Ellen, which is a good no-nonsense
name.'

'Ellen,' Joan repeated, rolling the name round
her mouth with relish, as if it were a sugared
almond or a piece of chocolate. 'That's better. I
can't be doing with fancy names myself.'

'Call me what you please,' Eloise said tiredly.
'I'm sure I don't mind at all.'

Joan wrenched the door open in answer to a
timid knock. 'Mabel, show Mrs Ellen to her
room.'

'And fetch her some tea and bread and butter,'
Hilda said with a condescending smile. 'Never
let it be said that we don't keep a good table at
Cribb's Hall.'

As Eloise walked past her, Joan caught hold of
her arm, her bony fingers pinching Eloise's flesh.
'You may call me Aunt Joan, though don't think
that gives you cause to take liberties, young
woman. You are as nothing in this house.
Nothing.'

Eloise had no answer for this. Her main
concern was for her little ones and she followed
the flickering trail of candlelight as Mabel
crossed the hall and mounted the stairs. Up and
up they went until Eloise lost count of the
number of stairs they had climbed. Her room
was on the third floor, just below the attic rooms
where the servants slept. It was cold and had a
damp, fusty smell, as if it had been unused for a
long period of time. Heavy, mismatched furniture
loomed out of the shadows creating monster
shapes, and the sash window rattled as if shaken
by unseen hands. Mabel lit the candles on the
mantelshelf and on the washstand. 'It's a bit cold
in here, but I'll put a match to the fire and it'll
soon take the chill off the room.'

'Thank you, Mabel.' Eloise went over to the big
brass bedstead and sat down, still clutching the
children to her. Beth needed a feed and Joss was
so tired that he was merely snivelling in a low
moan that went straight to her heart.