Calico Road (36 page)

‘Exactly. You’ve taken my meaning. Don’t forget it. Now get down on your knees and apologise for this.’ He pointed to his cheek.

And heaven help her, she dared do nothing but obey.

He nodded and as she knelt there, kicked out and sent her flying across the room. ‘From now on I think you should make up a bed for yourself in one of the other rooms at these times of the month, for I find the sight and smell of you quite repulsive. In fact, go away this minute and don’t come back to my bed until you’ve something to offer a man.’

She struggled to her feet and left without a word, half-expecting him to hit her again as she passed. But he didn’t. She had never felt so humiliated in her life. She hated him even more for what he’d done this night.

He smiled as he watched her go. There was always a way to bring them to heel. He rubbed his cheek, which was still stinging. Why the hell had he married the bitch? She was nothing like her fecund sister. And, truth to tell, he preferred his women plumper and more stupid.

A week later Andrew allowed his wife to accept an invitation to visit her sister. He didn’t want to upset Jethro, after all, needed to make sure he kept the man as an ally. The young fool was acting like an idiot lately, though, treating his operatives far too softly, a practice which made difficulties for other cotton masters. Old John must be turning in his grave at the changes his son had made in the mill.

Andrew made a point of handing Harriet into the carriage himself. ‘I trust you’ll say nothing disloyal about me?’

‘Of course not.’

She sat bolt upright until the carriage left Tappersley, then leaned back and let out a long, low groan of relief. For a few precious hours she’d be free of him. She’d been terrified ever since he’d made that veiled threat to kill her, had hardly dared open her mouth – and hated herself for this cowardly subservience. She was sure now that he’d do her real harm if she stayed with him – and kill her if she remained barren. But how was she to escape – and stay free?

She sat lost in thought, not noticing the scenery. The only way Andrew allowed her to go away from home was in their own carriage with the coachman and another man riding with her. Even when she went to Halifax she was escorted round the shops by one of them.

Her only chance, she decided, was to get away by night and on foot. That might be possible at the time when she was sleeping alone. Only where could you get to on foot from Tappersley? Halifax? She knew no one there and was doubtful she could reach it during the hours of darkness. The only person she knew would help her was her sister, but Backenshaw was also too far away for a night’s walking. Andrew would catch her before she got there, she was quite certain. And then he would kill her.

As they drew near the tops she looked out at the Packhorse. Suddenly she pressed closer to the carriage window, struck by an idea. She could make it this far on foot, surely? And if the landlord could be persuaded to hide her then maybe he’d also agree to let Sophia know that she needed her sister’s help in getting away. She’d heard the servants talking about the inn, just snatches of conversation here and there which she’d pieced together afterwards. If he’d helped some of the people whom Andrew’s horrible overseer had ill-treated to escape, why not her?

It had taken her a few months to realise how brutal her husband was to the children he employed because he refused to let her go inside the mill, saying it was no fit place for a lady. But once again the servants’ idle gossip and what she’d seen from the upstairs window had revealed what he was hiding from her. She’d also caught snatches of conversation at the various social events they’d attended. People might behave politely towards her and her husband but she’d soon realised he wasn’t liked and that people, even other cotton masters, considered his mill a disgrace.

From what she’d seen things seemed to be getting worse in the mill, the workers there looking more downtrodden and weary, though she wasn’t sure whether this was Andrew’s fault or that of Jad Mortley. There had been two funerals in Tappersley in the past month – if you could call those hurried burials in paupers’ graves funerals. Young children from the mill, they’d been, because the splintered wooden coffins were too small to hold an adult body. She’d gone up to the rear bedroom to watch the pitiful little boxes carried out and taken to the churchyard with no ceremony, not even the church bell tolling, and certainly no mourners attending. It was as if the dead child apprentices were so much rubbish being carted away. That thought upset her greatly.

And yet workhouses from all over the North continued to send children here as ‘apprentices’. Andrew gloated whenever another group arrived, saying they were the cheapest of all his workers. They weren’t apprentices, in Harriet’s opinion, but slaves. The poor things looked hungry and gaunt whenever she saw them in church on Sundays, more like shrunken old men and women than children.

When she’d mentioned to Sophia how much she pitied the children their husbands both employed, her sister had been surprised. Jethro treated his much more kindly, apparently, and had made a lot of changes for the better in the mill when he took over from his father. None of their apprentices had died during the time she’d been married, Sophia was certain. They weren’t rosy-cheeked, she agreed, because they rarely saw the sunlight, but they were decently clad and properly fed. She knew that for a fact because she saw them in church every Sunday. What’s more Jethro had discussed their diet with Tettie and the nursemaid had told her what they’d arranged. Better food than most of them would have got at home, the nurse said, and she was no fool.

Harriet sighed. Andrew was a monster in so many ways.

She was surprised to find the carriage drawing up in front of Parkside already. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed anything since the inn on the tops.

She was shown up to her sister’s bedroom, where Sophia had been resting. The child was showing quite clearly now and she was moving a little more slowly than usual, laughing at how sleepy she felt sometimes. But she looked to be in blooming health.

Tettie was there with her and studied Harriet shrewdly. ‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking out, but you don’t look well, Mrs Beardsworth.’

Harriet tried to smile at her, but didn’t succeed.

‘I know you’re wanting a child and I have a herbal potion that may help you.’

Harriet would have liked to refuse this kindly offer, but realised suddenly that it might soften Andrew’s attitude towards her, so nodded. ‘I’d appreciate that.’

‘I’ll find you a bottle before you leave, Mrs Beardsworth.’

When she’d gone Harriet looked at Sophia, tried to speak normally and couldn’t. Her sister looked so plump and happy, while Harriet’s own reflection in the mirror told quite another story. ‘You’re lucky in your husband, so very lucky.’ Unable to hold back the tears, she covered her face with her hands and started sobbing.

‘Is he still beating you?’

For answer Harriet took off her frock.

Sophia gasped at the sight of the yellowing bruises which covered large areas of her sister’s body. ‘Oh, Harriet, no! The man’s a monster!’

‘He often hits me, but now—’

Sophia moved across to gather her into her arms and hold her while she wept.

But Harriet knew better than to continue crying, which would make her eyes reddened and swollen, so forced herself to stop. ‘I’m terrified of him. Last week he threatened to kill me if I angered him in any way, because I’m already disappointing him by not giving him a son and am therefore worth nothing as a wife.’

Sophia gasped and put one hand up to her throat. ‘Harriet, no!’

‘I’m quite sure that if I don’t get away from him, you’ll be attending my funeral.’

‘Stay here. Don’t go back today.’

‘I can’t. He’s my husband, has rights over me, can demand my return by law. And anyway, what would your husband say? The Greenhalghs have been on friendly terms with Andrew for many years.’

They sat in silence for a minute or two, then Harriet went on, ‘I think I can get away, though. If I do and send you word, could you send someone to fetch me from my hiding place? Not your carriage but someone in a cart perhaps, so that I could hide in the back. You see, he makes me sleep on my own now when my courses come and I think next time will be my chance, my only chance, to leave. I’m very carefully watched the rest of the time, because he doesn’t trust anyone. I’ve been thinking about it on the way here, planning how to do it. I’d have to leave the house at night then go somewhere on foot and send you word. The only place I could think of was the inn, the one on the moors, the Packhorse.’

‘Jethro’s half-brother owns that inn! I’m not supposed to go there.’ Sophia paused, then smiled. ‘Mind you, he’s softening towards him. I’ve heard Jethro say a couple of times that the inn is at least better run than before and Toby Fletcher has earned a reputation as an honest man. I think what Jethro dislikes most is that his bastard brother resembles him so closely.’

Harriet looked at her in dismay. ‘But there’s nowhere else I can go.’

Sophia looked at the bruises where her sister hadn’t pulled up the neck of her gown properly. ‘If you do escape, even if it’s to the Packhorse, I’ll find a way to fetch you, I promise, whether it angers Jethro or not. I have plenty of money because he’s very generous with me. I can give you some now and send more later.’

‘That would help. Andrew doesn’t give me any money. His men pay for what I need.’

After a pause, Sophia asked, ‘Where shall you go afterwards?’

‘I don’t know. Anywhere. London, perhaps. The further away from
him
the better.’

Jethro didn’t join them for the midday meal this time because he was busy and would eat in his office. Harriet was glad of it, didn’t feel she could have chatted cheerfully today.

After they’d eaten Sophia went across to her pretty little desk and pulled out a drawer. ‘Here. Take as much as you want.’

But Harriet hesitated. ‘Andrew might find it. How could I ever explain where I got it from?’

‘He wouldn’t find it if we sewed it into the lining of your muff.’ Sophia took out her sewing box and they sat together as they had so many times before, setting stitches and speaking quietly.

But the time passed too quickly and Harriet looked at the clock with a sigh. ‘I’ll have to leave now, I’m afraid. Can you send for my carriage, please?’

It was getting dark as they reached Tappersley. She found her heart thudding in apprehension as she climbed the steps to the front door.

She joined her husband for the evening meal, feeling sick with worry about the night to come. When he took her tonight, would he use her roughly, beat her? She tried not to show her fear of going to bed, but knew he sensed and enjoyed it.

For something to talk about she told him about the herbal potion Tettie had given her.

‘I’m glad to see you behaving more sensibly,’ he said. ‘Go and fetch it.’

She left the table and went upstairs for the brown glass bottle.

He took off the stopper, sniffed it and pulled a wry face. ‘Let’s hope it works.’

‘She said – Tettie, I mean – that it might take two or three months to work and she’ll send me some more bottles when she’s brewed another batch.’

‘Good.’

The trouble was, Harriet was even more certain now that she didn’t want to bear him a child. She hoped desperately that the potion wouldn’t work. But she’d take it ostentatiously and perhaps this would allay his anger, buy her some time without beatings, because she felt that if he didn’t stop ill-treating her she’d go mad.

18

O
ne fine day in January Jethro rode up Calico Road with his groom Peter, on his way to visit the Packhorse and claim his free pot of beer. He didn’t know why he bothered to do this when it was so much trouble, but he liked to keep an eye on his bastard brother and derived a certain secret amusement from the man’s stiffness with him. It was a relief to him that Fletcher wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, that the fellow had made no attempt to benefit from their relationship and had kept his promise to stay away from Backenshaw.

What Jethro couldn’t understand was why he kept coming here.

When he got close to the inn he saw a carriage getting ready to leave, the coachman fussing with the reins, the attendant groom shutting the door on the occupants. He reined in his horse till it had creaked away down the hill, the horses’ hoofbeats seeming to echo for a long time in the frosty air.

He looked at Peter, waiting patiently behind him. ‘I don’t want the people in that carriage comparing my face to
his
.’

His groom pulled a wry face. ‘You can’t change his face, sir, whatever you do.’

Only Peter dared speak to him like that. Only from Peter would Jethro ever accept criticism. But that damned resemblance between him and Toby continued to irk him. It was unreasonable, he knew, but there it was.

‘See to the horses and then get yourself a pot of beer at my expense,’ he told the groom as they stopped in front of the inn. ‘And keep your ears and eyes open while you’re here, see if you can find out what they think of Fletcher.’

Jethro stopped in the doorway of the public room, letting the warmth generated by its fire wash around him. There were a couple of locals enjoying a drink in one corner and a young woman he didn’t recognise was carrying a tray of empty dishes out from the private parlour. She stopped dead at the sight of him and the tray shook in her hands, so that the platters on it rattled and seemed in danger of falling off. He hurried forward to steady it.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I thought for a minute – but you’re not him.’

‘No. I’m a relative. Is Fletcher around? I need to speak to him.’

‘I’ll go and find him for you. He’s probably out in the stables.’

Meg whisked into the house place and told Phoebe about the new arrival in a whisper, keeping a watch over her shoulder in case the gentleman followed her. ‘He wants to see Toby.’