Going Home (28 page)

‘Don’t worry about Moira,’ Amelia said and turned her head as Ginny came back into the room and poured water into a cup.

Ginny knelt by the bed and helped the woman to sip the water. ‘You need something stronger than that,’ Ginny muttered. ‘What is it you’ve got? Consumption?’

‘Aye, and it’s galloping away faster than a man
on horseback.’ She turned to Amelia. ‘Will you take my boy as well as Moira? I’d die happy if you would.’ She must have seen the uncertainty on Amelia’s face, for she added, ‘He’s a good worker, takes after his dada. Tum his hand to anything.’

They heard footsteps on the stairs and she grasped Amelia’s arm. ‘Not a word about me,’ she urged. ‘I don’t want the bairns to know. They think I drink and that’s why I take to my bed, but where in the world would I get money to buy drink when we can barely afford food?’

Moira came up the stairs followed by Kieran. The girl was very pale and thin and the boy was sallow-complexioned.

‘Why, miss, what you doing here again?’ Moira gave her a smile but glanced anxiously at the bed where her mother lay. ‘Mammy,’ she said. ‘You should be out of bed at this time of day. Come on,’ she urged. ‘You’ll have to help me with the begging. I’ve only earned sixpence this morning.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘There’s not enough money to buy our dinner and pay the rent.’

‘What about you, Kieran,’ their mother said wearily. ‘Did you manage to get a job?’

He shook his head. ‘No Ma, I didn’t. But I’ve to go back to the docks in the morning and I might get taken on as apprentice on a fishing boat.’

Mrs Mahoney gave a low cry. ‘Never,’ she said. ‘You’re a farmer’s boy, not a seaman. You’ll not
last a day on a boat.’ She gave an imploring glance towards Amelia. ‘Please, miss. I beg you.’

‘Moira.’ Amelia turned to the girl. ‘Miss Fielding in York is willing to take you back and teach you if you will help her in the house. You can live in a cosy little room at the top of the house where I used to stay when I was teaching. Your mother says that she is willing for you to go.’

Moira frowned. ‘But who’ll earn money if I’m not here? And besides there’s bad things happen in York. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.’

Amelia was startled, but Mrs Mahoney said, ‘Away with you, child. Forget about that. Bad things happen everywhere, not just in York. Sure it’s a fine city and Miss Fielding will take good care of you. Besides,’ her voice was breathless. ‘I’ve the promise of a job in a big house, but I have to live in and I can’t take you and Kieran with me.’

‘A job—’ began Moira but was interrupted by Kieran who complained, ‘But Mammy, what about me? Where will I go?’

‘You’ll come with us,’ Ginny broke in. ‘I’m looking for a willing lad to fetch and carry, and help with the coals. Can you do that?’

He nodded. ‘Will I be able to see Mammy or Moira?’ he asked.

‘Probably not often,’ Ginny answered truthfully, ‘because we live in the country. But you know as well as me that once you start work you generally only see your family once a year.’

‘What shall I do, Mammy?’ he muttered. ‘I’d like the job.’

Mrs Mahoney put her hand over her mouth and swallowed hard. ‘Take it, my brave lad, and make your mammy and dada proud of ye.’

Amelia and Ginny went off then to do their shopping with the promise that they would be back at three o’clock to collect the two children. ‘But first,’ said Ginny, propelling Amelia towards an inn, ‘we wash our hands thoroughly and I hope in God’s name that those two children haven’t caught what their mother has. It can go through a family like wildfire and I wouldn’t like to think they were bringing anything home to our family.’

‘Oh, Ginny.’ Amelia was horrified. ‘I didn’t think! They were both very pale and sickly-looking. We must let the doctor see them before they meet Lily or the twins!’

‘You’d be pale, Miss Amelia, if you lived the way that they do. I’d forgotten,’ she muttered. ‘I used to see it all the time when I lived in Hull. I didn’t realize that it was still here.’

The doctor checked Moira and Kieran over the following day and pronounced them free of disease but suffering from lack of proper food. ‘They’ve probably been living on bread and water,’ he remarked as he looked them over. ‘Give them some good food and they’ll be as right as can be. They seem to have good constitutions.’

Ginny went back into Hull armed with a
basket of provisions and returned to tell Amelia that she had arranged for Mrs Mahoney to go into the workhouse hospital, the same one where her son Eamon had died. ‘She said she would be happy there where he had been,’ she told Amelia. ‘So you are not to worry about her. I’ve arranged for a priest to visit her and we’ll tell the bairns all in good time.’

‘Thank you, Ginny.’ Amelia was grateful. ‘How good you are.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Ginny. ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’

Early the next day, Ginny knocked on the bedroom door and called softly, ‘Mrs Linton!’ and entered the room.

‘What is it, Ginny?’ Emily was standing by the window in her night robe. ‘Has someone arrived?’

‘Yes. Mr Mungo. He’s ridden urgently from York and asks to see you and Miss Amelia. There’s a message from Mr Hawkins.’

‘I’ll get dressed. Has Philip gone out?’

‘Captain Linton left with Master Roger an hour since.’ Though Ginny called her mistress by her first name when they were alone, she always observed propriety with Captain Linton. ‘Shall I call Miss Amelia?’

‘Please. It must be urgent for him to have come so far so early. I do hope nothing is wrong.’

Nothing was wrong, Jack assured them. On the contrary, there was good news, but their
presence was needed as Miss Fielding appeared to be unwell.

Jack joined Amelia and her mother at breakfast and told them of the events in York. ‘So, you are saying that Ralph is the brother – or at least the half-brother of the Misses Fielding?’ Amelia said in astonishment.

‘It seems so incredible,’ said her mother, then paused in thought. ‘That time when Miss Fielding was ill. It was after Mrs Boyle and I were discussing convict transportation. Why did she not tell us then of her mother?’

‘Too ashamed, Mama,’ Amelia confided. ‘Harriet asked me questions about Ralph and then I told her about your past and she too became very agitated. They have kept their secret hidden for so many years.’

‘They were told to,’ Jack interposed. ‘By Edward Scott. Mr Thacker told us that Scott had threatened them when they were children that they must never tell anyone.’

‘Poor things,’ Emily Linton murmured. ‘He doesn’t sound like a very nice man. Come along, Amelia. We must do what we can. Thank you so much,’ she said to Jack. ‘You have been so kind.’

‘Shall I return to York with you, ma’am?’ he asked.

‘There is no need to trouble yourself. Perhaps – would you be kind enough to look after Mrs Boyle and her daughter whilst we are gone? And give them my apologies for deserting them?
I’m sure they will understand. My husband and Roger will be back this evening for supper.’

They took Moira with them; she was scrubbed and clean and wore a neat grey dress, with a cotton bonnet on her head. She preened as she sat in the carriage next to Amelia and wriggled on the cushions, and Amelia asked her, ‘What bad things happened in York, Moira, that made you think you didn’t want to go back?’

She hung her head. ‘My mammy said I shouldn’t talk about it, miss, that I’d make trouble for myself.’

‘If that’s what your mother said, then perhaps you shouldn’t,’ Mrs Linton advised. ‘But if it worries you then you may tell us in confidence, or Miss Fielding, and perhaps we can put your mind at rest. You are only young, perhaps it was an incident that you didn’t understand.’

‘Oh, I understood it all right, ma’am.’ Her eyes were bright and frank and seemed older than her years. ‘Sure I understood it right enough.’

When they arrived in York they found Elizabeth Fielding in a very nervous state, mainly it seemed over the confirmation of her mother’s death. Harriet, however, was in a condition of feverish excitement over the discovery of a brother she didn’t know she had. Her mood broke out from time to time in a flurry of exclamations and utterances.

‘I can hardly believe it, Amelia,’ she gasped, for what seemed like the hundredth time. ‘And
he is so kind and considerate towards Elizabeth. I’m sure she will take to him eventually. Not that she dislikes him, you understand,’ she added quickly. ‘No, nothing like that, she is just so upset over our mother’s death. Oh, goodness!’ she exclaimed yet again. ‘I cannot believe it! Do you think he will protect us from Scott, Amelia? I do hope that he will. Yet still – perhaps not, he is Scott’s son after all.’

‘Protect you? In what way, Harriet?’ Amelia was puzzled. ‘Was Mr Scott not your guardian when you were young?’

Elizabeth came into the parlour as she spoke. She wore a loose gown and her hair was not dressed but hung down her back, making her look young and vulnerable. ‘He became our guardian when Mama went away,’ she said. ‘He said there would be no-one else willing to look after a convict’s children, and if it wasn’t for him we would be in the workhouse. But I discovered later that he took on our guardianship so that he would have control of the annuity which our own father had left us. There was very little left when we came of age.’

‘And now?’ Amelia asked. ‘Does he not enquire about you?’

‘Oh yes.’ Elizabeth gave a cynical smile. ‘He comes to remind us of our faults and of our mother’s sins. He comes regularly to torment us.’

Amelia related this to Ralph later when he called. ‘I do believe that Elizabeth is frightened
of Mr Scott,’ she said. ‘She cannot bring herself to tell him not to come to the house.’

‘There are some people who find pleasure in hurting others, they like to manipulate and take control,’ Ralph said slowly and thoughtfully. ‘They are inadequate in themselves, yet want to feel power – like small boys who pull the wings off flies to see them squirm and suffer. I believe that Scott is like that.’ He gazed at Amelia and she saw sadness in his eyes. ‘I am ashamed to call him my father.’

‘It is not your fault,’ she said urgently. ‘You cannot take the blame for him.’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘But I must try to make amends for the hurt he has done, to my mother and to my sisters.’

Have I been mistaken about him? she thought. He appears to be most considerate and thoughtful. But she was startled and disconcerted when he spoke again in a harsher tone.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t say this to you, Amelia. You are a woman and not given to violence and wouldn’t understand.’ He curled his fingers into a tight fist. ‘But I could meet that man who brought me into being, and thrash him until he begged for mercy.’

LUCINDA BOYLE LOOKED
out of her bedroom window. She had retired to her room for a rest after luncheon, but had caught sight of her daughter and Jack Mungo walking together in the garden below, and she now sat in an easy chair gazing thoughtfully at the pair.

He was talking, moving his hands expressively as if explaining a point and Phoebe was shaking her head. He must be telling her of the extraordinary happenings at the Fieldings’ house, she pondered. How considerate it was of Miss Fielding to invite him to their supper party. That wouldn’t happen in Australia, she mused. I can’t think of one of our acquaintances who would invite an Aborigine into their home, unless it was to perform some menial task.

Her thoughts went then to her husband. He would be appalled at the very idea of social intercourse. Aborigines, convicts and dingoes were in the same class as far as he was concerned and he would shoot them all.

I don’t want to go back. The small nagging thought, which had been with her from the moment she had stepped onto the ship in Sydney Harbour, came back with full force. Yet how can I stay here without support? My brother would have to take me in, but I would be ostracized from society if it was known that I had left my husband.

And what would happen to Phoebe then? No man would marry her if her parents were separated. There would be such shame on her head! She gave a deep depressed sigh and peered down into the garden. Phoebe and Mr Mungo had moved out of sight, though now and again she caught a flash of white from Phoebe’s dress as they moved amongst the bushes and the herbaceous borders. Phoebe won’t want to go back to my brother’s house, not after such freedom here at the Lintons’. She will consider it far too staid and stuffy. But how else will I ever find her a husband?

The couple below appeared again from beyond the trees. This time Phoebe appeared to be doing all the talking. She had her hands clasped near her face and she was smiling. Jack Mungo was looking at her, though Mrs Boyle couldn’t see his expression as he had his head turned away from her. A sudden worry seized her. I ought to fetch Phoebe in. The sensibilities and prejudices of her own upbringing came to the fore. It was not seemly to spend so much time alone with a man who was
not your husband or your intended, even though Phoebe and Mr Mungo were in full sight of anyone who cared to be interested.

She stood up against the window intending to tap and call, but Phoebe looked up at that instance and smiled and waved and Jack too looked up towards her. She saw him say something and Phoebe nodded and they turned towards the house.

‘I must speak to Ralph,’ Jack was saying. ‘He is my friend and he wants to marry you.’

‘No, he doesn’t. Not really.’ Phoebe clasped her hands beneath her chin and smiled. ‘Besides, if
you
won’t marry me, then I won’t marry anyone.’

He wanted to reach out and hold her, but was aware, as they both were, that they were visible to any watchers at the house. ‘It would be so hard for you, Phoebe. You know of the difficulties you would encounter. How can I ask you to share such a life?’

‘Because I love you,’ she said simply, ‘as I always have, and because I am strong.’

‘What shall I tell Ralph? He will feel betrayed.’

‘Tell him he should marry Amelia. She would suit him much better than I.’

He laughed. ‘They don’t suit at all. They are always at odds with one another.’

‘All the more reason why they should marry, they will settle their differences then.’ She gazed tenderly at him. ‘I’m a woman, I know about these things.’