Friendship's Bond
| Friendship's Bond | |
| Meg Hutchinson | |
| Hodder General Publishing Division (2010) | |
| Tags: | Sagas, Fiction |
Synopsis
He claimed to be a man of God. But he did the devil's work. Thomas Thorpe hides his carnal desires under the mask of a pious lay preacher. When Ann Spencer rejects his advances, he evicts her from her home, claiming she is living in sin with a young man not her blood relative. But Alec is a ward, not a lover. And Ann has made a promise to her dead father that she will protect the Russian boy with her life. Taken in by kind-hearted Leah Marshall, Ann and Alec repay her by working in the dairy. The two young people become substitutes for the children Leah has lost. But Thomas Thorpe will not leave them in peace. Playing on the paranoia engendered by the Great War, he sows seeds of doubt among the good people of Wednesbury about the foreigner in their midst. Once Ann becomes an outcast, he will be able to claim her unwilling body for his evil purposes.
Friendship’s Bond
Meg Hutchinson
Also by Meg Hutchinson
Abel’s Daughter
For the Sake of Her Child
A Handful of Silver
No Place of Angels
A Promise Given
Bitter Seed
A Love Forbidden
Pit Bank Wench
Child of Sin
No Place for a Woman
The Judas Touch
Peppercorn Woman
Unholy Love
The Deverell Woman
Sixpenny Girl
Heritage of Shame
Pauper’s Child
Ties of Love
For the Love of a Sister
The Wanton Redhead
All is Not Enough
A Step Too Far
A Sister’s Tears
Writing as Margaret Astbury
The Hitch-Hiker
The Seal
Devil’s Own Daughter
Non-fiction
A Penny Dip: My Black Country Girlhood
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
Copyright © Meg Hutchinson 2010
The right of Meg Hutchinson to be identified as the Author
of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without
the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in
any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and
without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious
and any resemblance to real persons, living
or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Epub ISBN 9781444713862
Book ISBN 9781444713848
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
An Hachette UK company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
For my husband who is, and always will be, part of me
Acknowledgement
I am very grateful to Pierre Gilliard for his wonderful book
Thirteen Years at the Russian Court
, which has proved an invaluable source for my research.
Chapter 1
‘
So what is it the Lord decrees? You are His self-appointed spokesman, the one chosen to carry His word, to interpret His will to those less favoured, so tell me: is it the Lord’s will I turn Alec from this house, that I leave him friendless and alone in a land foreign to him? Is that God’s decree or is it yours?
’
As she stared into the cold grey deadness of an empty fire grate Ann remembered these words, saw again the pinched mouth of Thomas Thorpe tighten, making his thin lips disappear while his pale eyes glittered with the displeasure her retort had aroused.
‘
I am simply telling you what the people are saying; they think it wrong that a young man and woman who are not of the same blood are living together under the same roof
.’
‘
The people! The people think it is wrong!?
’ she had replied quietly. ‘
And you, Mr Thorpe, how did you answer the people; did you, as you so frequently do, quote the Scriptures? Did you remind them of the words Jesus spoke, words which tell us to love our neighbour as ourself?
’
Had she hoped her words would touch the man’s conscience, have him retract what he must know to be untrue? Perhaps. Ann pulled her worn coat closer in an attempt to ward off a shiver, not so much because of the cold of an autumn morning as at the remembered icy gleam of his narrowed eyes. Thomas Thorpe’s sharply pointed nostrils had flared at her perceived reprimand.
‘
The congregation
,’ he had snapped, ‘
the congregation is concerned that chapel property, namely this house, is being put to misuse
.’
She had understood the implication of his words but had deliberately raised a questioning eyebrow. Whether self-elected bearer of the congregation’s misgivings or, as she suspected, the vessel of his own spite-filled intentions, Thomas Thorpe was going to be made to put his accusation into words.
Had she not challenged him, not confronted him in so direct a fashion then maybe Alec and herself would not now be homeless; but her indignation at the falsity of the allegation had swept away any thought of caution.
‘
Misuse? What exactly is the nature of the misuse the congregation fears? But then it is unfair of them to let you bear the brunt of their dissatisfaction; I cannot let you be their sole spokesman while they remain in the background. Therefore I shall meet with them in the chapel, I shall demand they say outright what they mean
.’
She had seen the result of that, the quick flicker of alarm flash across his eyes, the sudden uneasy twist of a stone-hard mouth; she had seen Thomas Thorpe’s guilt and he . . . ? He knew it had been observed, that he stood condemned by his own reaction; but the flare of recognition vanished as swiftly as it had come. Staring straight at her he had laughed, a low victorious laugh.
‘
That . . .
’
His laugh had become a snarl.
‘
That will not happen. You see, the congregation have expressed the wish you no longer be allowed to worship there
.’
‘
The chapel is a House of God, no one can deny me the right to attend divine service
.’
‘
Indeed
,’ he had answered, ‘
and as a responsible member of the Church I pointed out the same at the meeting
.’
Ann’s heart flicked as it had on hearing those words. There had been a meeting, one kept secret so as to afford her no chance to defend herself against any scurrilous allegation; and on whose instigation? The answer had been clear to read in those sly fox-like eyes: Thomas Thorpe’s.
‘
I reminded them of that
.’
The snarl had softened, his confidence of success lending a smarmy obsequious note.
‘
I said that while they might exclude you from their company you could not be refused entry into the building though I feel, given you are no longer welcome there, it would prove less painful for you should you choose to worship elsewhere
.’
No longer welcome! He had smiled with vulpine malice on hearing her sharp catch of breath at those words. Thomas Thorpe had been extracting revenge for her refusal to be flattered by his attentions; she had told him the advances he pressed were unwelcome, that she had no desire for a relationship other than that which existed at present. Was this why the meeting had been held without her knowledge? Had Thomas Thorpe’s vanity been so injured he would see her not only excluded from the chapel but shamed and humiliated in the eyes of its congregation, with her reputation sullied by unsavoury gossip? Or was there yet another reason, one even more important to Thomas Thorpe than revenge?
Watching him in this room yesterday she had felt supposition harden into certainty. The man was afraid of his own reputation being brought into question. Given the opportunity of coming face to face with her fellow worshippers she might denounce him, inform the people of the true characteristics of their so-pious lay preacher. Seeming to guess her thoughts he had gone on.
‘
You were aware when offered the tenancy of this house that it is the property of the chapel. As with that building, the congregation bought and now maintain it with their offerings and therefore their wishes as to its occupancy must as a courtesy be observed
.’
‘
And that wish is?
’
He had shuffled his feet, glanced at the hat held in his hands in a show of discomfort but the instinct which had told her his fears were for his own standing in the community had told her just as definitely there was no regret. It was no more than pretence, a fabrication designed to mask the spite he really felt, which could only be sated by seeing her thoroughly discredited.
‘
I’m sorry . . .
’
Had he smiled on saying that? Had the slight clearing of the throat been a suppressed laugh? A moment later those animal-sharp eyes had met hers with all the triumph of the victor about to deliver the final blow.
