Pauper's Gold (46 page)

The two men glanced at each other.

‘If you think we can do it, lass, well, yes, of course,’ Ernest said.

‘I’m sure we can. There’s just one more thing,’ she said as she stood up. ‘I’ll have to go and see Mr Edmund.’

‘Well, I wish you luck,’ Josiah said.

And almost beneath his breath, Ernest muttered, ‘You’re going to need it.’

‘I’ll go now,’ Hannah said firmly, before her nerve failed. ‘Get it over with.’

If the coming meeting with Mr Edmund hadn’t been so nerve-racking, Hannah would have enjoyed the walk up the hill, through the village and into the grounds of the Manor.
It was a hot, still day with only the sound of birdsong and the distant weir to disturb the peace.

Edmund was in his bedroom, sitting near the window so that he could look out, down the river valley. As she approached him, Hannah could see that the upper part of the mill was plainly visible. He
was slouched to one side of his chair, a rug over his knee. The left side of his face was drawn down, giving him a lopsided appearance. But he recognized her at once, for he began to splutter. He raised
his right arm and, with a trembling hand, waved her away, making strange, unintelligible sounds. Saliva dribbled from the side of his mouth.

He was a pitiful sight, yet Hannah hardened her heart. He’d been a cruel, ruthless man and even now, when he was helpless, he was still trying to turn her away.

Ignoring his feeble protests, she sat down in a chair opposite him.

‘Adam’s gone,’ she said bluntly, sparing him nothing. ‘You’ve driven him away.’

He made a noise and prodded his forefinger at her.

‘Yes, I’ve no doubt you blame me. And you’re right. I have much to answer for.’ Another grunt from Edmund, but Hannah went on. She leaned towards him. ‘But
it’s me you should have sent away – not Adam. You could have done. You were good at it once. Remember Nell Hudson?’

He dropped his gaze and let his hand fall back into his lap.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I see that you do.’ She paused and then added softly, ‘I wonder just how many bastards you’ve sired.’

Now Edmund brought forth a growl of anger, but Hannah only laughed. ‘You probably don’t even know how many might come banging on your door one day to demand a share of their
birthright.’

‘Huh!’

‘They’d get short shrift from you, I’ve no doubt. But Adam is your legitimate heir – and I am his wife and I intend to keep the mill running until he comes back to claim
his rightful inheritance.’

Edmund shook his head and made angry noises, but Hannah went on, relentlessly, ‘And here’s something else for you to think about. I am carrying his child – his legitimate child
– and your grandchild.’

With a great effort, Edmund reached out towards the small table placed beside him. A glass of water stood there and, thinking he wanted a drink, Hannah half rose from her chair to help him. But
Edmund grasped the glass with his one good hand, picked it up and flung it at her. It struck her on the left-hand side of her forehead, just below her hairline, leaving an inch-long cut and
spilling the water down her blouse and skirt. The glass fell to the floor and smashed as blood began to trickle down Hannah’s face.

She did not move, did not raise her hand to touch her forehead. She stood there, quite still, staring at him for several moments, then slowly she turned and walked from the room, her resolve
more steadfast than ever.

Hannah did not visit Edmund again, though she heard that he was improving slowly. She had plenty to occupy her at the mill.

For the first few months, the mill ran smoothly. There was still plenty of cotton in the storeroom and another delivery arrived, but the man who brought it was gloomy.

‘Don’t know when I’ll bring you any more,’ he told Josiah, who checked the paperwork assiduously. ‘There’s a mill in Lancashire threatening to close.
We’re going to go through some hard times. You mark my words . . .’

Josiah did mark his words and passed on the man’s dire predictions to both Hannah and Ernest, but Hannah refused to be downhearted.

Things were so much better. She’d arranged for the local doctor to visit the mill twice a month. Any worker who wished to consult him could do so. From the moment she’d suggested
such a notion, Ernest had been all for the idea, but Josiah had shaken his head. ‘It will cost too much. If we’re facing hard times, we didn’t ought to be letting ourselves in for
extra expense.’

It was strange how quickly the three of them had assumed ownership of the mill and full responsibility for its running and the people who worked there. Hannah had even thought about releasing
all the apprentices who were still tied to the Critchlow name – just like she hoped the poor slaves in America would win their freedom, so she wanted to set the bound apprentices free.

‘Tell you what,’ Ernest suggested, unwilling to see such a good idea quashed by the careful clerk. ‘Why don’t we ask all the workers to contribute a penny a week towards
the scheme?’

Hannah stared at him. ‘What – every week whether they need a doctor or not?’

Ernest nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it being done in other places. It’s not much, yet folk feel reassured that if they really need a doctor, they’re not going to be faced with
a huge bill to pay. And there’s one mill I’ve heard of that has a visiting dentist as well. There’s a room set aside with all the equipment in. A chair and everything.’

‘Oh, now you are taking it too far,’ Josiah said, but Hannah laughed.

‘Now
I’ll
tell
you
what,’ she said. ‘We’ll sound out all the workers. See what they think, and if they agree we’ll certainly have the doctor
come regularly, and if the money will run to it, we can have the dentist come if anyone needs him.’

Ernest beamed and Josiah shrugged philosophically. As long as his books balanced, he didn’t mind what the new mistress of the mill did.

And as for Hannah, she was happier than she had thought it possible to be. The mill was still working. As yet, they hadn’t even had to put any of the workers on short time and now she was
looking forward to the birth of her child in a few months’ time.

Every month she wrote diligently to Auntie Bessie and Nell, and in return she received letters written by Jim – dictated to him, of course, by Bessie and Nell. Whilst they hadn’t
approved of what she had done, they nevertheless still assured her of their love and wished her well.

‘Don’t forget you’ve a home here with us if you ever need it. You and your little one,’ Jim wrote in every letter.

Despite the threat of hard times to come hanging over them all, Hannah thrived and bloomed. There was only one thing that caused her deep sadness.

Not one word had come from Adam.

Sunday afternoon was the only time Hannah allowed herself some free time; the rest of the week was fully occupied with running the mill. On a surprisingly warm October
afternoon, she walked along the narrow path across the footbridge over the waterfall and pulled herself up the steep, precarious path on the hillside opposite Millersbrook village and the Manor.
Panting a little, she realized there would be not many more weeks when she would be able to tackle the climb. Smiling gently to herself, she ran her hand lightly over the swelling mound of her
belly. ‘You’re growing fast, my little one.’ And she felt a flutter of movement and believed the child she carried beneath her heart already understood. She walked on until she
rounded the curveof the hill directly opposite the impressive manor house that stood on the edge of the cliff above the deep valley where the River Wye meandered. Sitting on the grass to catch her
breath, she eyed the long windows glinting in the sunlight and wondered if Edmund was behind one of them, watching her.

Then her thoughts turned, as they always did when she came up here, to Luke. Her gaze roamed the hillside. She could almost see herself and Luke running up the hill, fancied she heard the echo
of their young and innocent laughter. Tears filled her eyes and she pulled at the grass at the side of her. A lump came to her throat and a sob escaped her lips.

‘Oh, Luke, if only you hadn’t died,’ she whispered. ‘If only—’

‘Hannah? You all right?’

Hannah jumped at the sudden sound of a voice. For one fleeting, foolish moment, she thought it was Luke.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and squinted up against the sun to see Ted standing a few feet away, grinning down at her.

‘Ted!’

He came and sat down beside her. ‘Should you be up here?’ he asked, genuine concern in his tone. ‘Auntie Lily says you’re . . . well, you know.’ All of a sudden,
the young man was embarrassed.

Hannah smiled and said, ‘I’m fine. I’m only five months gone.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘But you’re right. I won’t be able to come up here many more
times. It was a bit of an effort today, I must admit.’

‘Well then, you’re not to come up again,’ Ted said firmly, but his bossiness was tempered by an affectionate grin. ‘At least, not without me.’

‘And what would your girlfriend say to that, eh?’

Ted laughed. ‘Which one?’

‘Oh, you!’ Hannah laughed and punched his shoulder lightly.

‘If you ever want any help, Hannah, you’ve only to say the word.’ Now Ted was being serious.

‘Thanks, Ted.’

She felt his gaze on her. ‘There is something, isn’t there?’

‘Well . . .’ She plucked at the grass again self-consciously.

‘Come on, out with it.’

‘It’s just that there’s two rooms at the apprentice house that we – that I – haven’t got cleaned out and whitewashed. I can’t really take in lodgers
till I get them done. And I need to. Adam—’ Her voice broke as she spoke his name, but she pulled in a deep breath and struggled on, ‘was doing all that, but . . .’

‘But he didn’t get it finished before he went away,’ Ted said gently.

Unable to speak, Hannah nodded.

‘Consider it done.’ Ted grinned. ‘I’ll—’

Whatever Ted had been going to say was cut off abruptly by an angry voice. ‘Another poor sod in tow, eh?’

Startled, Hannah and Ted turned towards Daniel standing a few feet away, his hands clenched angrily by his side, his face thunderous. Ted rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Hannah up
too. He knew who Daniel was, knew he was the twin of the boy who’d died years earlier, but that was all. He was unaware of the young man’s bitterness, much of which was directed at
Hannah. Knowing nothing of this, Ted thought that Daniel’s interest in the pretty young woman was what any red-blooded young man’s would be.

He grinned at Daniel. ‘Jealous, a’ ya?’

Daniel’s frown only deepened and he spat crudely on the ground. ‘I wouldn’t want her if she was the last woman on this earth. You’re welcome to her. But I’ll warn
you, she’s bad news. She’s trouble. And you,’ he shook his fist at Hannah, ‘you’re no better than a whore.’

He turned and began to run along the narrow, precarious path.

‘Daniel . . . !’ Hannah cried, frightened that he would stumble and pitch headlong down the steep hillside.

Ted caught hold of her arm, fearful that she was going to go after Daniel. ‘Let him go, Hannah.’ He paused as they both stood watching until Daniel had disappeared around the curve
of the hillside. ‘What’s eating him, then? Fancies you himself, I bet.’

If it hadn’t been so serious, Ted’s remark would have been funny. As it was, Hannah smiled but it was a sad smile. ‘He hates me. He blames me for Luke’s death.’

Ted was puzzled. ‘How can he do that?’

‘Mr Edmund was . . . was . . . well, Luke came to my rescue, if you know what I mean.’

Ted’s face was grim. He knew all about Edmund Critchlow and his reputation with girls, especially the young girls at the mill.

Hannah sighed. ‘That’s when they fought and Luke fell in the wheel. I suppose . . . I suppose Daniel’s right in a way. If it hadn’t been for me, there wouldn’t have
been a fight and Luke would still be alive.’

‘And you’re still blaming yourself, aren’t you, Hannah?’

Hannah sank to the ground and covered her face. ‘Oh, Ted, I’ve been so stupid and . . . and wicked.’ Tears flowed down her face.

‘Oh, now come on, Hannah, love.’ Ted squatted down on his haunches beside her. ‘I can’t bear to see you cry.’

She could see she was embarrassing him, so she sniffed and brushed away the tears with the back of her hand. She forced a tremulous smile.

Now she was calmer, Ted took hold of her hand and held it between his own. His touch was warm and comforting. ‘Come on, tell Uncle Ted all about it.’

‘I . . . I thought you’d’ve known. I told Mrs Grundy.’

‘Oh, Auntie Lily wouldn’t say a word to a soul. She knows how to keep a confidence. And so do I, Hannah.’

‘I set my cap at Adam Critchlow – deliberately – to get revenge on his father.’

‘Well, yes, I’d sort of guessed that, but I don’t quite know why you had to go as far as marrying him. That did surprise me a bit.’

‘Well, I had to. How else would it’ve really hurt Mr Edmund? He’d’ve just sent me away and that’d’ve been the end of it. But now, I’ve ended up hurting
myself and . . . and the man I now love.’

‘You mean, you
love
Adam Critchlow?’

Hannah nodded.

‘Oh.’

There was a long silence between them until Hannah could bear it no more. ‘So now you see why Daniel hates me, why Adam hates me and . . . and now I suppose you will too.’

‘No,’ Ted said at once. ‘No, Hannah, because I can understand now how it’s all come about. My family felt very bitter about our Lucy’s death so if anyone can
understand why you’ve acted the way you have, then it’s me.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘When Lucy died I reckon me dad wanted to kill Edmund Critchlow with his bare hands. But
he’d only have hurt all the family even more if he’d’ve faced the hangman for it, wouldn’t he?’

Hannah nodded.

‘And, like you say, it’s you that’s hurting now because you fell in love with Adam.’

Again, Hannah nodded silently.

‘See.’ Ted nudged her and winked, deliberately trying to lighten her mood. ‘I said you should have married me.’

‘Oh, Ted . . .’ she was crying and laughing too now.