A Mother's Shame (8 page)

‘Would tomorrow morning at seven o’clock be convenient?’

‘Yes, ma’am. It would.’ Maria rose from her seat then, leaving Miss Belle slightly nonplussed as she watched her go. She just hoped that the girl would be as confident once she had met her new charge, since Isabelle Montgomery, as Mrs Bradshaw had informed her, was proving to be somewhat of a handful – to put it mildly.

Charles and Helena Montgomery were at breakfast on Monday morning when there was a tap at the door. Charles frowned with a mixture of irritation and anxiety. Joshua had already left for the ribbon factory and the staff knew better than to disturb him and their mistress whilst they were eating, but he guessed who it would be. No doubt Polly would have returned to find that Isabelle was missing by now.

‘See who it is,’ he instructed the young maid who was hovering at the end of the table.

‘Yes, sir.’ She bobbed her knee and hastened away, only to return almost immediately to tell him, ‘It’s Polly, sir. She says she has to speak to the mistress on a matter of some urgency.’

‘Can it not wait?’ he snapped.

‘It’s all right, Charles,’ his wife assured him as she rose gracefully from the table. ‘I shall soon see what the problem is. Perhaps Isabelle is unwell again.’

She moved past him leaving the scent of rose petals in her wake, but she had barely reached the door when he said anxiously, ‘Actually, I believe that Boyd has come to tell you that Isabelle is not in her room.’

‘What?’ Helena stared at him blankly then with a wave of her hand she dismissed the servant.

‘So where is she then?’ she asked bluntly once they were alone.

Shame-faced, her husband avoided looking at her. ‘Let’s just say that since I learned of our daughter’s . . . condition, quite by chance some days ago, I have taken steps to ensure that she will not ruin the rest of her life.’

The colour drained out of Helena’s face and she leaned heavily on the edge of the table. Surely he could not have carried out his threat to place their child in Hatter’s Hall. He could never be so cruel . . . could he? Especially as he knew how strongly she had been against the idea.

‘Surely you realised that we had to address the problem?’ His voice was loaded with accusation now, and lowering her head she nodded miserably.

‘Of course I did. But what have you done with her, Charles?’

‘I have placed her somewhere where she will be safe and well cared for until after the birthing.’ His eyes dared her to argue with him. ‘You must see that I had to do something before her condition became common knowledge.’

Helena could not argue with that. Hadn’t she been thinking along the very same lines? But even so, she had to know where her daughter was.

‘Is she somewhere local?’ she asked in a trembling voice.

Charles stared back at her. ‘It should not concern you where she is,’ he said stubbornly. ‘I have told you she is safe and that is all you need to know. You will see her again when this whole sorry mess is over with. As soon as the child is born I will find someone to foster it and no one need be any the wiser.’

‘B-but the baby will be our grandchild,’ Helena objected, as she had done before. ‘And what will we tell Polly and the rest of the staff? They will find it strange that Isabelle left so quickly.’

‘I have already thought of that.’ Charles strummed his fingers on the table, a clear sign that he was agitated. ‘We shall tell them that a schoolfriend of hers has taken ill and Isabelle has gone back to France to stay with her for a few months. But as for your remark about a grandchild, you must rid yourself of that notion immediately! How could we
possibly
have the child here without setting the tongues wagging? The staff are not completely stupid, you know!’

Composing herself as best she could, Helena took a deep breath. ‘And how is Isabelle supposed to manage if she has none of her clothes with her?’ she asked in a voice that was as cold as the snow outside.

‘You may tell Polly to pack her trunks and have them placed by the front door. I shall get Jacobs to have them delivered to her.’

‘Very well.’ Her heart was pounding now. If Charles was sending his manservant with Isabelle’s things then that must mean she was not that far away. But where? Could he really have carried out his threat? Her mind was working frantically as she considered the other places he might have taken her to. It was all very strange though. Why hadn’t Isabelle said goodbye to her – and why would she have left without her clothes and her possessions?

As she headed for the staircase, Helena had to accept the fact that Charles must have removed Isabelle from the house by force. But where could she be, other than at Hatter’s Hall? There was no way that Helena was prepared to wait until after the child’s birth to see her daughter again. Somehow she was going to have to find out where Charles had taken her. The way she might do this occurred to her as she climbed the stairs. But first she would instruct Polly to pack Isabelle’s possessions as Charles had requested.

As soon as she had spoken to Polly, she hurried back downstairs. Opening the green-baize door at the end of the long hallway, she strode through the kitchen, causing Cook’s mouth to drop open as she hastily stood up from the table where she had been enjoying a cup of tea following the breakfast rush. It was a rare thing to see the mistress in the kitchen apart from when she came to discuss the menus each week.

‘It’s all right, Cook, do carry on,’ Helena told her as she let herself out into the snow in the back yard. She then lifted her billowing skirts and daintily picked her way across to the stable-block where Hoskins was busily rubbing down one of the horses.

‘Is your Steven about?’ she enquired without preamble and Hoskins scratched his head.

‘Aye, ma’am, he is that. He’s up above wi’ his mother.’ He pointed to the crude wooden staircase at the end of the stable-block that led up to the living quarters he shared with his family.

‘Then would you be kind enough to tell him that I wish to see him immediately?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Right away.’ Hoskins shot off to do as he was told as Helena stood there tapping her foot impatiently. The horses whinnied and scratched at the straw-covered floors of their stalls, but at that moment Helena was oblivious to them.

Young Steven Hoskins came down the staircase looking anxious. ‘’Ave I done summat wrong, missus?’ he asked, full of concern.

‘Oh no, not at all,’ Helena assured him with a smile as she took his hand and led him to the other end of the stable-block where they could not be overheard. Steven was eleven years old. A good, hard-working lad already and Helena had a soft spot for him.

‘I would like you to do a little errand for me if you would,’ she told him.

He nodded instantly. ‘O’ course I will, missus, if I can.’

‘Good boy. Now here’s what I want you to do . . .’ Helena leaned down to him and after a whispered conversation he nodded.

An hour later, Jacobs loaded the trunks containing Isabelle’s possessions into the carriage and climbed inside, and as Hoskins urged the horses on, Helena watched from the drawing-room window as young Steven slipped from the shelter of the stables and leaped up onto the back of the carriage.

A pang of guilt sliced through her. The poor boy. The weather conditions were appalling and she just hoped that he would be able to hang on long enough to report back to her where Isabelle was. If he could manage to do that, she would see that he was well rewarded, but for now all she could do was wait for his return.

Two hours had passed when the maid came to inform her, ‘Young Steven is here, ma’am, and he says he needs to see you.’

‘Send him in please, Rose.’

The maid looked mildly surprised but went to do as she was told and the boy came into the room holding his cap respectfully as he peered about him in awe. He had never been further than the kitchen before, and the house beyond the green-baize door was even grander than he had imagined.

‘So, Steven, did you manage to do what I asked of you?’ Helena’s nerves were taut and she spoke more harshly than she had intended to. The poor child looked frozen through.

‘Yes, missus, I did.’ He shuffled from foot to foot for a second then went on, ‘I clung onto the back o’ the coach fer dear life an’ luckily me old man didn’t spot me. Then when it stopped at some big gates I realised it was goin’ to go through ’em so I jumped off an’ hid in the bushes.’

‘And where were these gates?’ she asked anxiously.

‘They were the gates leadin’ to Hatter’s Hall, missus.’

Helena suppressed a shudder at the thought of her daughter being confined in such a place, and her worst fears were confirmed. How could Charles have done such a wicked thing? But she forced herself to say calmly, ‘Are you quite sure, my dear?’

He nodded vigorously. ‘Oh aye. An’ when the coach went in I legged it back ’ere in case me da spotted me.’

‘You have done very well,’ she told him, pressing a number of coins into his hand. ‘Now there is just one more thing I need you to do for me. I want you to promise me faithfully that you will not speak of this to anyone.’

‘Yes, missus.’ Steven was staring down at the coins in his hand in wonder. The mistress had given him a whole shilling and already he was wondering how he was going to spend it.

‘Very well, off you go then. And thank you, dear.’

He made a slight bow before turning and skipping from the room like a spring lamb.

Once left alone, Helena gave way to her emotions and tears trickled down her cheeks. Her poor girl. She would become as mad as the other afflicted souls who were incarcerated in that dreadful place if she left her there for long. But what could she do about it, and where else could Isabelle go? As she paced restlessly up and down the fine Turkish carpet, her mind sought a solution – and finally it came to her. Without wasting another second, she hurried to her little writing table and began to pen a letter.

Once the letter was sealed, Helena pushed it deep into the pocket of her billowing skirts. On the hall table was a silver tray where Charles placed the mail that he wished to be posted. Normally she would have added hers, but today she had no wish for him to know who she was writing to, so for the second time that day she went to the stable-block again in search of young Steven.

Cook was kneading dough at the table and again her mouth dropped open as the mistress appeared.

‘Don’t mind me, I have no wish to disturb you,’ Helena told her as she wafted past.

‘I wonder what’s goin’ on?’ Cook said musingly to no one in particular when Helena had disappeared into the swirling snow, then shrugging she continued with what she was doing. Something was afoot; she could sense it, what with Miss Isabelle disappearing and the mistress in and out of the kitchen. But then no doubt she’d discover what it was all in good time.

Helena found Steven sitting on a haybale in the stables whittling away at a piece of wood. At sight of her he jumped up and she smiled at him kindly before saying, ‘I wonder if you would like to earn another shilling to go with the one you already have, Steven?’

His eyes sparkled greedily as he nodded. ‘Yes, missus, I would that.’

‘Then I have another errand for you, but once again I would prefer it if you told no one about it.’

‘I can do that all right, missus.’

Helena glanced towards the door. ‘Do you think you could make it to the village? I have a letter that needs to be posted as a matter of urgency. I hear that Mrs Everitt who owns the post office is indisposed but I believe that her niece has arrived to keep the shop open for her until she is better.’

Again Steven nodded, so now she withdrew the letter from her pocket and handed it to him with some money. ‘You will find there is more than enough to cover the cost of postage, and you may keep the change.’

‘Thanks, missus. I’ll go right now.’ And whilst I’m there I’ll treat meself to a twist of aniseed balls, the lad thought to himself, his mouth already watering at the thought.

Seconds later he had shot away and Helena stood there for a moment watching him until the snow had swallowed him up. She just hoped that he would get there and back safely. She would never forgive herself if anything were to happen to him. There was no need for her to worry about him knowing who the letter was addressed to. Steven was not educated and therefore he could not read. Not that it would have made much difference even if he could.

As she picked her way back across the icy cobblestones to the kitchen door, Helena Montgomery chewed on her lip. Now she must decide how she was going to put the rest of her plan into action. But first she would go and visit Isabelle, whether Charles liked it or not. She was her mother, after all.

Maria was exhausted by the time she got home and her mother quickly led her to the fire and helped to pull her sodden boots off.

‘So how did it go, pet?’ she asked anxiously, half-hoping that Maria had not got the job.

‘I am to start tomorrow,’ Maria said dully. ‘I shall live in but I shall be allowed to visit home every Sunday afternoon.’

‘Oh!’ Martha began to knead the girl’s hands. She looked fit to drop and not at all well. Martha could hardly believe that after tomorrow she would only see her precious child once a week, and the thought of her working in that dreadful place almost broke her heart. Could she have known it, Maria was worried about her too. She hated the way her father treated her mother and often wondered why Martha had stayed with him. He treated her more as a skivvy than a wife, but then the girl knew better than to ask. She supposed her mother must have her reasons.

Now Martha hurried away and returned with a bowl of thin gruel. ‘Drink this,’ she urged. ‘It will take the chill off and then you can tell me what the place is like.’

The whole of the village was curious about Hatter’s Hall, although not curious enough to want to venture anywhere near the place.

‘I shall not be working in the asylum side of it.’ Maria took a sip of the steaming drink before going on, ‘I shall be working as a maid to a young lady of quality who is to be there for some months, although I have no idea who she is.’