The Shoemaker's Daughter (35 page)

Emily looked up at him puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’ she said quietly.

‘Do you often have stomach pains, Emily?’ he asked. ‘Trouble with your courses?’

‘Sometimes,’ Emily said, ‘but what’s wrong with that? Every woman has to go through it.’

‘Quite so but occasionally, rarely in fact, such problems can affect your ability to have children.’ He smiled, ‘Though I doubt if that would apply in your case, at any rate don’t worry about it. I’ll give you something that will clear the trouble up in no time.’

When the doctor had gone, there was a knock on the door and John entered the room, a cup of hot tea in his hand. He looked concerned.

‘What’s wrong, Miss Emily?’ he asked, standing beside the bed staring down at her, his face white. ‘Bad news, is it?’

Suddenly Emily knew she had to talk to John, he was a wise, loving man who might be the only person in the world who cared a damn about her.

‘Sit down, John,’ she said. She took his hand as he perched on the foolish little rattan chair beside her bed.

‘I’ll be honest with you, John, I’ve fallen in love with you in spite of myself.’

When he would have interrupted, she held up her hand. ‘No, don’t say anything yet, just hear me out.’

‘I want to marry you, John, I want to be your wife and take your name.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It wouldn’t be all roses, we’d be the talk of Swansea and people will point a finger at you and say you are a fortune hunter. If none of that bothers you, I think we could be very happy together.’

The colour rose to John’s face, he was clearly startled by her suggestion and yet there was a warmth in his eyes that encouraged Emily to go on.

‘There is one more drawback, I may not be able to bear you a child.’ When he remained silent, she sighed heavily.

‘But it is a great deal to ask, that a man take on such a lot of problems, forget I spoke, you have your own life to lead.’

John raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. ‘I am a plain man,’ he said, ‘I was married to the same girl for twenty years, had two children by her. I am forty-two years of age, old enough to be
your
father and so I hope I have gained some little wisdom of the world. If you want me, I’d be honoured to have you as my wife.’

It was a long speech for a man like John Miller and tears came to Emily’s eyes. She stretched up and touched his cheek with her free hand. ‘You are a handsome, well-set-up man,’ she said, ‘you are honest and you care about me which is most important. I love you and I will be honoured to have you as a husband.’

‘I’ll be good to you, Emily,’ John said hoarsely, ‘have no fear on that score.’

‘I haven’t,’ Emily said softly and she leaned forward and kissed him. His lips warmed to hers and, as John held her close, Emily knew for the first time what it was like to feel real happiness.

Sarah was more than a little surprised when she heard the news. ‘You and my dad, going to be married?’ she said incredulously. ‘Why?’

‘Because we love each other.’ Emily was a little annoyed by the girl’s attitude but it was only to be expected, she told herself, everyone in Swansea would be showing the same surprise that the high and mighty Miss Grenfell was marrying a man from the lower orders. Well, let them talk, she was practically an outcast from society anyway. Emily had made up her mind to the marriage and that was all there was to it.

The wedding, with only Sarah and her brother Ray as witnesses, took place at St Paul’s Church in Sketty. It was a fine day with the sun shining brightly.

As the ring was placed upon her finger, Emily smiled up at John, loving him so much that she wanted to cry. She felt a sense of unreality as she walked from the church into the sunshine and then John turned to her and smiled.

‘Well, Mrs Miller, what is it like to be a married woman?’

‘I’ll tell you when I’m more used to the idea,’ Emily said leaning lightly against his shoulder. There was no party, no fuss and, together, Emily and John returned to the emporium.

The arrangement of the rooms had been quickly altered, what once had been Hari’s apartment was now turned into an extra drawing-room and a study where Emily could work on her books. Her own bedroom larger than the other was to be the room she shared with her new husband. Sarah was to have the night off so that the newlywed couple could have the house to themselves.

They ate supper with Emily only picking at hers. She was nervous, strung up, not knowing what to expect of John. She had vowed to be a proper wife and yet he had been married before, comparisons were bound to be made and Emily feared she would be found wanting.

After they had eaten, Emily carried the remains of the supper into the kitchen, she would leave it, Sarah would see to the dishes in the morning.

Sarah had acted as a part-time help upstairs, the work was easy with just Emily to think about, but now Emily would need to employ a full-time maid, she could not expect her shop assistant to wait on her when she had a husband to consider.

John poured her a glass of port and sat opposite her, a little uneasy in his waistcoat and his good solid boots. He seemed to feel out of place and Emily knew it would be up to her to make the first move.

‘I think I’ll go into bed, now,’ she said smiling as she rose to her feet. ‘Give me a few minutes to get ready and then will you join me please, John?’

His face lit up with happiness. In one movement he was on his feet and gently he took her hands in his.

‘Do you really love me, Emily?’ he asked softly. Emily looked up at him.

‘We are man and wife and those vows I made, they were made in happiness and love.’ She was trembling as she undressed and when she looked down almost shyly at her nakedness, she wondered if John would be pleased or disappointed in her.

Drawing her night-gown over her head, Emily shivered and then slipped between the sheets, a little fearful of what was to come. John was a man who respected women but he was a full-blooded man nonetheless and she prayed he would see her as just a woman and not as Emily Grenfell, daughter of the landed gentry.

When he came to bed, John smelled fresh and clean and there was a hint of the fragrance of pipe tobacco about him.

He settled down beside her and she turned to him, putting her arms around him, burying her face in his warm shoulder. With a soft moan he twisted his hands in her loosened hair and then his lips were warm against her throat.

John was gentle and expert in the art of making love. He caressed her with teasing hands and lips and all the time he murmured soft endearments. Emily felt wanted and loved and, as she warmed to his embrace, she felt passion overwhelm her fear. Suddenly she knew, she could give herself to John without restraint, he was her lover, her teacher and, most of all, he was her husband.

23

Craig stood in the drawing-room of Summer Lodge and watched as the handsome youth strode up the driveway of the house. William was a well-set-up young man and extremely intelligent, his swiftness to learn was a source of delight and Craig had come to look forward to their meetings at the weekends.

Craig was sometimes able to hear a crumb of news about Hari and these he digested with eagerness. He had never ceased to regret his stupidity in letting Hari get away from him, he should have married her when she was free.

Craig had become friends with the eldest daughter of Lady Caroline Grey but Elizabeth, though pleasant, lacked the richness of spirit that characterized Hari Morgan.

‘Will, good to see you.’ Craig opened the front door himself, the maid whom he had been reluctantly forced to engage was busy in the kitchen helping the old couple prepare Sunday luncheon. As Craig stood in the hallway, he became aware that the smell of roasting beef was permeating the house.

‘You’d be welcome to stay and share my dinner,’ Craig said smiling, ‘there’s always far too much food cooked in this house.’

‘I’ve got to get back,’ Will said reluctantly, ‘Hari isn’t feeling too good, got to stay in bed so the doctor says and I’m trying to catch up with the fine work on the shoes, you see.’

Craig closed the door of the drawing-room and moved to the table where he had spread a variety of maps for the day’s lesson.

‘What’s wrong with Hari?’ He could not conceal the concern he felt and Will smiled.

‘It’s all right so long as she rests in bed a few days, seems the baby is due much sooner than expected, though I don’t understand too much about it myself.’

‘Look at these maps,’ Craig forced himself to concentrate on the lesson, ‘I want you to learn the names of the continents today and fix in your mind where they are in relation to each other.’

There was silence in the room as Will pored over the maps, a frown of concentration furrowing his brow. Craig sat in the window, staring out into the garden and pondered on William’s news about Hari. Slowly, a suspicion began to form in his mind.

The suspicion grew into a deep-rooted certainty, Hari must be carrying
his
child, not Edward’s, the baby was the result of the night he and Hari had spent together. Those wonderful hours that had gone flying past like minutes.

He rose restlessly and rubbed his hand through his hair, Hari would have a son, an heir to the Grenfell estate, he was certain of it.

Craig felt exultant, he wanted to rush out to see Hari, confront her with his suspicions, make her agree that the child she carried was his.

Then common sense asserted itself, the child would bear Edward’s name, would be born in wedlock, to all intents and purposes would be Edward’s child. Craig closed his eyes against the knowledge that he must keep his suspicions secret for Edward’s sake and for Hari’s peace of mind.

Will’s voice penetrated his thoughts. ‘Africa then is the biggest of the continents, is that right?’

Craig rose from his chair and moved to the table, pointing a finger at the map.

‘Just study the map, William.’ He tried to force himself to concentrate but the mixed emotions he was feeling drove out rational thought.

‘Will, would you mind if we skipped the lesson today?’ he said. ‘How about a mug of ale down at the Lamb and Flag instead?’

‘All right.’ Will rose from his chair and stared shrewdly at Craig. ‘You are worried about Hari, aren’t you? You care about her, anyone could see that.’

‘You’re right.’ Craig sighed and moved into the hallway, picking up his jacket.

The maid came from the kitchen and bobbed a curtsy, her dark eyes on William.

‘Anything you need, sir?’ she said deferentially to Craig.

‘Thank you, Maria,’ he said, ‘I’m just going out for a while but I shall be back in good time to enjoy that roast dinner, don’t you worry.’

It was a fine crisp September day, the late sun was warming the streets and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn brown. Soon, Craig thought, his son would be born and he would have no rights in the matter. He would be an outsider looking in on the happiness that could so easily have been his. And the knowledge was like a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hari was seated in the window, the patterns she’d been working on lying idle in her lap. Edward was away on business and the silence of the house suited Hari’s mood of lethargy. All she had become was a child-bearing vessel, without conscious thoughts other than the welfare of her baby.

She had worried for a time about who was the father of her child and the more she brooded, the more convinced she became that the baby could not be Edward’s.

Should she tell Edward the truth, she wondered, or would it be kinder to keep her doubts to herself. But at last, she had come to the conclusion that it would only hurt her husband to know the truth.

To tell Edward about the time she had given herself to Craig would serve no purpose except to relieve herself of the burden of guilt. Instead, she decided to live with that guilt, in that way only one of them would be unhappy.

The new young maid entered the room a look of avid curiosity on her face. ‘You’ve a visitor,’ she said, ‘a Mrs Miller, Miss Emily Grenfell as was.’

Hari concealed her surprise and looked up slowly, struggling for composure.

‘Thank you, Jenny, show her in, there’s a good girl.’ The maid scarcely bobbed a curtsy, after all Mrs Morris was only a working girl like herself who had come up in the world, she wasn’t a real toff.

Emily entered the room with an anxious look on her face but in spite of that, she appeared to be well. Her fine-boned face had rounded out a little and there was a sparkle of happiness in her eyes that was difficult to ignore.

‘Hari, I had to see you, to talk to you,’ she began breathlessly. ‘Please don’t send me away, just listen to what I’ve got to say, please.’

‘Thank you, Jenny.’ Hari nodded meaningfully to the maid who was loitering in the doorway. When the door closed Hari indicated a chair and carefully placed the designs she’d been working on on the table, aware that her hands were trembling.

‘I know we’ve had misunderstandings,’ Emily said, ‘and most of it has been my fault but now that’s in the past and I really feel it’s time we put it behind us.’ She smiled diffidently, ‘After all, we’ve so much in common now that we’re both married women, haven’t we?’

‘Please sit down,’ Hari said, her mouth was dry with nervousness.

Emily leaned forward. ‘I wanted to talk to you as a friend, I’ve no-one else, Hari, and I’m so very happy that I want to share it.’

‘Yes.’ Hari didn’t know how to react to this new, gentler Emily.

‘I love my husband,’ Emily continued, ‘oh, I know the gossips are having a field day, the high and mighty Miss Grenfell has married beneath her but I haven’t.’ She rushed on without pausing. ‘John is a fine man and I’m a very lucky woman.’

Hari didn’t speak, the pain was deep inside her, Emily’s happiness was self-evident, how she wished that she was half as happy. But she couldn’t be happy, not without Craig.