Hope (15 page)

‘Albert, it’s time to get up,’ she said gingerly. ‘The fire’s lit and the kettle’s almost boiling. I have to go now.’

She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but he grunted at her call and turned over, making the bedsprings squeak.

‘Don’t go back to sleep again, it’s nearly half past five,’ she said, louder this time.

He muttered something, enough to know she’d woken him, so she turned and went back downstairs to put her boots on.

She’d got one boot laced when he appeared on the stairs in his long woolly underclothes. ‘You haven’t laid the table for me,’ he said indignantly as he got down to the kitchen.

‘I haven’t got time for that nonsense,’ she said without thinking. ‘I’ve got fires—’

Before she even finished the sentence he slapped her round the face so hard she felt as if her head had come off her shoulders.

‘That nonsense!’ he roared indignantly. ‘I’ve been trying to teach you Renton pigs some polite behaviour.’

Hurt as she was, Hope wasn’t going to snivel to him. ‘Is it polite behaviour to hit women?’ she yelled back at him.

He pounced on her, both hands going round her neck as if to strangle her. He lifted her right off her feet and then smashed her head back against the wall. He let her drop, and as she fell to the floor he kicked her in the stomach.

‘You will never answer me back again,’ he snarled at her. ‘I could have sent you to the workhouse, but out of the goodness of my heart I let you come here to live. For that I expect gratitude and humility.’

With his lips curled back, bloodshot eyes, matted black hair and a sour smell wafting from him, he was terrifying as he glowered down at her.

She was too hurt even to cry, but when he turned away for a moment she knew she must seize the opportunity. She got up gingerly, then bolted for the door, threw it open and ran out.

After just a few yards the pain in her stomach made her double up. The wind was bitterly cold, cutting through her like a knife, and she’d left her shawl on the chair. She forced herself to stand up and carry on walking, but each step was agony and her head began to throb too.

She was staggering like a drunk by the time she got to the stable yard; so dizzy she couldn’t even see straight. But a ray of light spilling on to the yard from the kitchen window stopped her from giving in and collapsing. It was just a few more steps to safety.

Baines was dressing when he heard Rose cry out. Thinking she was having trouble with the stove, he came out of his room beyond the servants’ hall in his shirtsleeves, only to find her kneeling on the kitchen floor beside young Hope who appeared to be in a dead faint.

He assumed it was only the result of exertion on an empty stomach; he’d found young girls were prone to passing out if they did too much before their breakfast. But Rose was lifting the girl’s head to put a cushion beneath it, and as she withdrew her hand, he saw it was covered in blood.

Baines had more than enough on his plate already. Cook had died during the night, and along with the sadness he felt at losing a dear friend so suddenly, he also had the worry of how they would manage until the mistress could find a suitable replacement for her. Now this!

He rushed to get the smelling salts and wafted them under Hope’s nose. When she began to come round, her first words were a halting apology. He turned her on to her side to examine her head, assuming she’d had a fall on the drive. Then he saw livid red fingermarks on her neck and knew it was no accident.

‘Who did this to you, Hope?’ he asked.

She didn’t reply, just looked at him with fear-filled eyes.

‘Come on, tell me,’ he insisted. ‘Was it a poacher?’

Poachers were a problem. They were usually after pheasant or deer on the Hunstrete estate, and if the gamekeeper was after them they cut through Briargate’s grounds. But Baines had never known a poacher attack anyone who wasn’t threatening them.

Hope appeared too shocked to answer, so he told Rose to get a bowl of warm water and a cloth so he could bathe her wound. She was in the scullery when Nell came into the kitchen.

‘Hope!’ she exclaimed, her face blanching as she saw the blood. ‘Did Albert do this to you?’

Baines was astounded that Nell would immediately consider her husband a suspect, and was glad Rose was out of earshot. But as Nell dropped to her knees by her younger sister, her expression held such anger, along with horror, that it was clear she had some good reason to blame Albert.

Baines had always held Nell in the highest regard. Had it not been for his position and the fact that he was so much older than her, he might have been tempted to admit he held romantic ideas about her too. Yet he was glad for her when she took up with Albert, for she clearly wanted a home of her own and children. Albert appeared to be a good choice of husband: he was steady and hardworking, even if he was a trifle dour.

In the light of Nell’s revelation, Baines now saw a reason for why she wasn’t the vibrant, talkative woman she used to be before her marriage. Up till now, he’d thought this to be the result of increased responsibility, or perhaps disappointment that she hadn’t found herself with child. It had certainly never crossed his mind that Albert himself might be the cause.

When Rose came back, Nell took the bowl of water from her and began cleaning the head wound, murmuring little endearments to Hope and begging her to tell her how this came about. Baines watched Hope’s face, and he could see she was fighting the urge to admit the truth. That was practically proof enough it was Albert, for the child clearly wanted to protect her sister from shame and embarrassment.

Baines felt a little faint himself now, for the law wasn’t kind to women; fathers and husbands could inflict tremendous punishments on female relatives with no fear of prosecution. If Albert could do this to a young girl, what might he do to Nell if she took him to task for it?

Sir William was the person who ought to deal with it. A stern warning that he would be watching out for Hope and Nell in future would probably bring Albert to heel. But Sir William was weak. ‘Feeble’ was how Cook had once described him, and though Baines had reprimanded her for saying it, she was right.

Surrounded by doting women as a child, and overindulged, Sir William had never learned to be a real man. He might be charming and look gallant and handsome as he galloped around the countryside on Merlin, but in fact he was completely irresponsible.

Baines knew that the business interests in London and America which his master used as an excuse to be away from here so often didn’t really exist. He had a circle of friends there, but it was horses, card games, balls and parties he shared with them, not business.

Sadly, he wouldn’t give a damn if his gardener was ill-treating his wife and her sister. As long as the grounds continued to be admired by his friends, the man who was responsible could do what he liked.

Hope wriggled away from Nell’s ministrations and got to her feet. ‘I’m fine now, Nell, I only fell on the frosty drive,’ she insisted. ‘I must go and light the fires.’

‘Let me light the fires, Mr Baines,’ Rose begged. ‘Hope’s not right yet, that’s a nasty wound she’s got. Couldn’t Nell do what’s necessary down here and stay with her?’

Baines recognized self-interest; Rose was just scared of being left to do the cooking today.

‘Fair enough, Rose,’ he said gravely, for it was clear that Hope wasn’t fit for heavy work. ‘You run along and see to the fires. And make sure Ruby pulls her weight.’

The minute she’d gone, Baines turned to Nell. ‘I think it would be best for Ruth to come down here. Cook, God rest her, has no further need of her help and Ruth is a very able cook. You can get Master Rufus up and bathed before your duties for the mistress.’

Nell nodded, but she put her hand on his arm and drew him towards the scullery to talk more privately. ‘What am I to do, Mr Baines?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘I know it were Albert, even if Hope won’t tell me. I’m often afeared for myself with him, but I never thought he’d lay a hand on her.’

‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Baines sighed. ‘On top of all the usual daily tasks, I have to make arrangements for Cook’s funeral and talk to Lady Harvey about a replacement for her. Hope will be safe here with Ruth.’ He put one hand on Nell’s shoulder, wanting to reassure her he wasn’t dismissing her because he didn’t care. ‘We have to tread carefully, Nell, and weigh up the consequences.’

Once Baines had gone, Nell turned back to Hope, tenderly smoothing her hair back from her forehead. ‘Tell me the truth, my little love. It were Albert, weren’t it?’

‘No, I told you I fell on the drive,’ Hope lied.

Nell closed her eyes with exasperation. ‘Is that what you intend to tell Ruth and James?’

Hope nodded.

Nell fastened a piece of wadding over the wound on her sister’s head, then placed a mob cap over it. ‘I can’t hide those fingermarks on your neck so easily,’ she said pointedly. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be able to think of some excuse for those too.’

At five o’clock that evening, Nell walked down the drive to the cottage carrying a basket containing a loaf of bread and a meat and potato pie Ruth had made for her that afternoon. Her heart was thumping with fright, but she had never been more determined in her whole life.

Hope was staying in Ruth’s room at Briargate for the night. She had stubbornly stuck to her story that she just fell on the drive, and Nell knew it was her way of protecting her. But this afternoon Hope had vomited, and Baines had insisted she went to bed immediately and stayed there. Even Hope wasn’t brave enough to argue with him.

Nell hadn’t discussed Albert any further with Baines because he had been far too busy sorting out Cook’s funeral. But she had thought through all the possible lines of actions she could take and weighed up the consequences of each.

All of them were likely to bring her and Hope even greater misery. Legally she had no rights; a wife was a man’s property and she was expected to obey him. Nell suspected that the same law meant Albert could do anything he liked to his sister-in-law too because he had given her a home.

It had been very tempting to ask Lady Harvey for some help, but she’d quashed that idea for Nell knew if her mistress refused, she might retaliate and blurt out something she would regret.

Captain Pettigrew had called many times in the last three years, always when the master was away. Maybe they didn’t get up to anything wrong, but Nell could feel a charge in the air between them and her ladyship was always lost in a dream when he left, sometimes even a little weepy.

Nell could understand, at least to a certain extent. Over the years she had come to see that Sir William wasn’t the perfect husband she once took him for. He was careless with his wife, preferring the company of his friends in London to her. Maybe he’d always been that way and that was why her mistress fell for the Captain’s charms in the first place.

Without Lady Harvey’s help Nell couldn’t run away from Albert, and anyway she didn’t want to leave the job she loved, or her family. If James and Matt were to find out Albert had beaten Hope, they would take their revenge. But Albert was an intelligent, determined man and he knew the law. He’d get James and Matt arrested, they would end up in prison, and she and Hope would be completely at his mercy.

She couldn’t even hope that by now he was feeling ashamed of himself, as she knew that he didn’t love her. He didn’t love anyone but himself.

While there was no way she could either be rid of Albert or punish him, she didn’t intend just to lie down and let him walk over her. As her father had been very fond of saying, ‘
There’s more than one way to skin a cat
.’ And Nell felt she had found a way to skin Albert.

Inside, the cottage felt no warmer than outside, and Nell fumbled in the darkness for the candle and matches she always left on the shelf by the door. Once the candle was alight, she carried it over to the table and lit the oil lamp.

The stove was out, just as she had expected, and the breadboard on the table held just a few crumbs and the bread knife. A broken cup lay on the floor, clearly hurled by Albert, and the hearthrug was scuffed up, but there was nothing else out of place. She picked up the pieces of china and looked for further clues as to what had gone on that morning. Her eyes fell on a splattering of blood on the whitewashed wall by the door.

In a strange way she was glad to see it, for it was the confirmation she needed to give her the courage to carry out her plan. She had the stove lit within five minutes. She put the pie in to warm through, laid the table and then ran upstairs to make the bed and collect the slop pail.

Just after six, she heard Albert’s boots scrunching on the stones of the drive and her bowels contracted with fear. She was spooning some tea into the warmed pot as he came in. He stood for a second in the doorway, his eyes narrowing in surprise to find Nell there as she usually arrived back much later than him.

Even after all the misery he’d put her through, she could still admire how handsome he was. Six feet two inches of rock-hard muscle, and a face that would make many a woman swoon: large dark blue eyes framed by long lashes, a perfect straight nose and a well-shaped mouth. He had shaved off his beard soon after their wedding, and though there was a dark shadow on his chin now because he hadn’t shaved that morning, his slightly cleft chin was attractive. Even his teeth were still good, and he often pointed out that she should be ashamed that she’d lost so many of hers.

‘I’ve got a nice meat and potato pie for your supper,’ she said pleasantly. ‘And this tea will be brewed in a moment.’

‘Where’s the girl?’ he asked as he hung up his coat by the door.

‘Up at the house,’ she replied. ‘My father always asked how Mother was, and kissed her when he came in.’

He looked hard at her, clearly not really understanding the sarcasm, but he said nothing and went over to the bowl of water she had ready and washed his hands.

She poured his tea in silence, took the pie from the oven and put it on the table, then cut him a slice of bread.

Every sound seemed magnified, the scrape of his chair on the stone floor as he pulled it out to sit down, his first sip of tea and the crackle of the wood in the stove. Albert was mostly silent, and she usually chattered just to break the deadly quiet. But this time she said nothing, just served him up a large portion of the pie.