Believing in Tomorrow, page 20
‘Because Lotty’s parents were going to be turned out of their cottage?’ he said incredulously.
‘Mainly because of that, yes, but I had been wondering for some time what to do in the future.’
He had thought she was happy here. Yes, they had their ups and downs but never for one moment had he thought she would willingly walk out of his life, that she would leave him. And without discussing anything beforehand. Or did she think he would countenance her continuing to live here while she built her damn factory and houses? She would be the talk of the county and he would be a laughing stock. Bitterly, he said, ‘I don’t know you. You have lived here for four years and I don’t know you. What would your father have said at you behaving in such a scandalous way?’
She looked into the granite face and her next words came out of their own volition. ‘My father, if he’s still alive and I pray he’s not, is a beast of a man. He killed my sister and nearly killed me before I ran away when I was a child. So I don’t care what he would think, or anyone else for that matter. I have to look after myself. I’ve always had to look after myself.’
For a moment there was a deep, cavernous silence between them, a silence so profound it was as though the world was holding its breath. His voice, when it came, was quiet and flat-sounding. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m – I’m not who I said I was, apart from my name.’
He shook his head, like a boxer after a heavy blow. ‘Explain.’
And so she did. She started her story from when she was born into the one-up, one-down cottage in the hamlet; the days working in the fields; Kitty’s death; the attack on her; her escape to North Shields and the Mallards saving her; their deaths and her being forced to work in the fish factory to survive – all of it, even the long evenings with Ruth and their thirst for knowledge and the elocution lessons with Miss Gray. He listened without interrupting but she didn’t fool herself that this was because he felt any empathy; his face was as hard as nails and his eyes black with rage. ‘And so I came here,’ she finished, keeping her voice from shaking with enormous effort, ‘but I always knew one day I would need to be self-supporting. I had considered buying and running a guest house in the future but then Lotty’s family nearly lost their home and the idea came to me to provide housing for such as they.’ She shrugged. ‘Whether you believe me or not, I was going to explain when you came home today.’
‘So it’s all been a lie, that’s what you are saying.’ She had never intended to stay with him and he had thought— What had he thought? The answer came back loud and clear. He was a fool, that’s what he was. There he’d been imagining that when the children were off his hands he would ask her to marry him and make a new life somewhere in a different part of the country, where the scandal of him marrying his housekeeper wouldn’t intrude on their life. Yes, they met head on at times and he knew marriage to Molly would never be a tranquil affair, but he had thought that under all their disagreements and different ways of looking at things she felt for him what he felt for her, even if it had never been spoken about. But he had clearly been wrong. He meant nothing to her. Not only that, but she was a completely different person to the woman he’d thought he knew – she had fooled him for years. He could strangle her with his bare hands.
‘My background is different to what I told you but I’m still the same person as I was yesterday.’
‘No, you are not.’ He saw her jerk, her hand going to her throat, and knew he had frightened her but he didn’t care. He wanted her out of his sight. ‘No, you are not,’ he repeated more quietly. ‘You are a stranger.’
‘I see.’ She stood up, her face chalk white but her back straight. ‘Then there’s no more to be said. I’ll leave immediately.’
‘I think that would be wise.’
‘What – what will you say to Oliver and Angeline?’
‘I don’t think that is any concern of yours, not any more.’ He wanted to hurt her just as she had hurt him. He wanted her to feel desolate and betrayed and torn apart inside, but there she stood, as cool and contained as usual. ‘I will pay you to the end of the month,’ he said stonily.
‘Keep your money, I don’t need it.’
And she certainly didn’t need him. ‘I pay my debts, Miss McKenzie.’
‘Then give it to Lotty for her family.’
‘As you wish.’
She left the study feeling physically sick and went straight to her room, closing the door and sitting down on the bed. He hated her. Hated and despised her; she’d seen it in his eyes. Pressing her hands against her chest, she swayed back and forth, moaning softly. She should have told him the truth about her beginnings before now, she knew that, so why hadn’t she? Why hadn’t she confessed that she had come from humble beginnings and hadn’t been born the gentlewoman she now portrayed?
The answer was stark and clear. Because she loved him and she hadn’t been able to bear the thought that if she revealed the truth about herself he would look at her the way he had just done in the study.
She became quite still, her hands dropping limply into her lap. She loved him. In spite of John seeing her merely as a servant, his housekeeper, she loved him as she had never done Matthew. Matthew had been her first love and it had been a sweet, innocent, happy feeling. She had felt safe and secure with him and his family and she had been eternally grateful for their care and affection for her, and her love for Matthew had been an extension of that. But John . . .
She shook her head, her despair too great for the relief of tears.
She loved John as a woman loves a man, knowing he wasn’t perfect, that he could drive her to wanting to hit him on occasion, that he was stubborn and narrow-minded and saw things totally in black and white, but still, in spite of all his faults, she loved him. And he despised her, which was her own fault. It was all her fault. She had put the final nail in her coffin with her plans for the factory and houses. He would never forgive her for any of it and as he’d said, he saw her as a stranger.
After a while she pulled herself together. She had to remain strong, at least until she had left Buttercup House and found somewhere to stay. She’d go and see the landlord at the Plough Inn first and see if he had a room available. If not, he might know someone who could take in a temporary paying guest. Failing that, she supposed she would have to travel to Morpeth and find accommodation there. Once she had somewhere to stay she’d decide what her next step would be.
She quickly packed her things – it didn’t take long – and then left her suitcase and bags on the bed and went along to the kitchen to say goodbye to Mrs McHaffie and Lotty. She told them she’d had a disagreement with the doctor and had decided to leave, but hopefully would find somewhere to stay in the village and would let them know when she did. They were shocked and horrified, and when Lotty insisted that she would accompany her and help carry her bags, Molly didn’t argue. In truth, she was feeling quite shaky.
As she and Lotty walked into the hall a few minutes later, John came out of his study. ‘Where are you going?’
She almost said, What do you care? but, conscious of Lotty and wanting to keep things as civil as possible, she said curtly, ‘Into the village.’
‘Now? Today? In this weather?’
‘You agreed I should leave immediately.’ She didn’t look fully at him; she couldn’t, because she knew she would break down.
‘I didn’t think you meant this immediately. Lotty, take Miss McKenzie’s things back to her room.’
‘No.’ Molly stopped Lotty with her hand. ‘Now is as good a time as any and it’s for the best. Lotty is helping me with my things and if I find somewhere to stay in the village she can tell you where to send any correspondence that might come addressed to me.’ Ruth’s letters arrived at regular intervals and one was imminent.
‘This is ridiculous.’ His voice grated with anger and frustration.
Still she didn’t look fully at him as she reached for the front door and opened it. ‘Goodbye, Doctor,’ she said flatly, hoping he wouldn’t detect the misery in her voice. ‘Everything should run perfectly well without me. The records of regular orders for food and coal and so on are listed in the ledger in the morning room, along with other information pertaining to the running of the house.’
She thought she heard him mutter something which ended in ‘. . . damn the house’, but by then she had stepped outside into the bitter cold. She took care not to slip on the steps, which were covered in a layer of ice; the last thing she needed was to fall flat on her face. That would nicely finish off what had turned into the worst day of her life.
She set off down the drive carrying her suitcase, with Lotty trotting along behind her with the other two bags. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Eighteen
‘So, where is she?’ Lotty had just walked in through the back door of the house which led into the scullery and then the kitchen, and Mrs McHaffie had almost pounced on her.
‘Well,’ said Lotty, feeling important for once, ‘she’s at the Plough for the moment but one of the barmaids said she knows of a cottage that’s coming up north of the village on the way to Cresswell. Lilac Cottage or Rose, somethin’ like that. The old lady who lives there has been ailing for years and her son’s saying she’s got to go and live with him in Ashington. The girl didn’t know if it’ll be for sale or rent but the son always calls in the inn for a drink when he comes to see his mam and he’s due in a day or two. The barmaid wouldn’t be surprised if he says his mam’s got to go home with him there and then, the weather being what it is.’
‘What’s it like, this cottage?’
Lotty shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
‘Well, you’d better take your hat an’ coat off and go and tell him she’s at the Plough but I wouldn’t mention this cottage for now. If that comes off the lass’ll tell us and that’ll be soon enough for him to know. I don’t know what’s gone on but it must have been quite a barney for her to walk out like this. And here was me thinking that the two of ’em might—’
‘What?’
‘Nothing, it don’t matter. Go an’ tell him and don’t get upset if he bites your head off. He’s all worked up.’
John was worked up. He was beside himself. He had been mad enough when he’d learned she’d bought a piece of land without so much as mentioning it to him first, and then even more furious when she’d told him the plans of what she intended to do with it; but all that paled into insignificance besides her calmly stating, in so many words, that he wouldn’t feature in this future she was building. He was expendable; he had served his purpose and she was going to move on. And then she’d further compounded what he saw as a deep betrayal by revealing that everything she had told him about herself was a lie. If ever a man had been taken for a fool, he had.
And just to leave as she had, as though she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. He ground his teeth, his stomach churning. Damn woman. Damn and blast her.
He slumped down in the chair behind his desk and put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the wood. When had he first admitted to himself that he loved her? He couldn’t say. Perhaps he’d known it from the first week she had been here but had hoped that if he didn’t acknowledge it the feeling would fade and die? It was so soon after Christabel, for one thing, and for another they were like chalk and cheese, oil and water – any damn definition you wanted to put on it. But as time had gone on it was as though she had inveigled herself into his bones and blood. He didn’t understand what it was about her, that was the thing. If he could have put a name to it, identified it and pigeonholed it, he could have dealt with it better.
He pressed his fingers against his temples as though he could force the knowledge out. How long he sat there he didn’t know, but when Lotty knocked on the study door and then opened it, it took him a moment to focus. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I thought you might like to know, Miss McKenzie found a room at the inn.’ Lotty’s voice was hesitant. She had never seen the master looking like he was now, not even when the mistress had died and that had been a terrible shock for everyone. One minute she’d been as right as rain, although complaining she’d got one of her headaches, and then she was gone. A bleed inside her head, they’d said, and for months afterwards every time Lotty got a headache she panicked.
‘Thank you, Lotty. So she’s quite comfortable?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’
‘Can I get you anything, sir? A cup of tea or coffee?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll be leaving shortly for the surgery. Can you see to Miss Angeline when she gets home from school?’ It was his daughter’s first day back after being unwell and he hadn’t been looking forward to seeing her that evening. Cuthbert had admitted that he’d mentioned Angeline accompanying them on holiday to Rebecca, and by now Angeline would no doubt be expecting his blessing. Curse the man – he hadn’t got the sense he was born with, John thought irritably. He didn’t need aggravation from Angeline on top of everything else. Cuthbert had said he understood his reservations in view of the current uncertainty; whether he did or not, John didn’t know and right at this moment he didn’t care.
‘Of course, sir,’ Lotty said flatly. It had dawned on her that she would be left to deal with Miss Angeline’s tantrums now Miss McKenzie had gone. She left the study, closing the door quietly behind her, and went to report to Mrs McHaffie how the master had seemed.
Molly sat in the window seat of her room at the inn, gazing down into the courtyard outside but without really seeing it. It had started to snow again in the last few minutes, feathery white flakes falling from a leaden sky that promised more. The room held a double bed, dressing table and wardrobe, and it smelled of smoke from the small fire in the leaded grate that one of the barmaids had lit. She suspected there was something wrong with the chimney because every so often a gust of smoke billowed into the room. It was cold too, very cold, and after taking her coat off she had put it on again.
The landlord, a big cheery fellow with hair that stuck up like bristles and a bulbous red nose, had told her she could have meals in her room if she wished, to which she’d thankfully agreed. The thought of going downstairs to eat was beyond her. In fact, the thought of eating a meal altogether was beyond her at the moment.
She had made such a mess of everything, she told herself wretchedly, and there was no way back. He was lost to her. From living in his home and being part of his life for four years, eating with him, laughing, arguing – oh, yes, arguing – he now saw her as a stranger, and a stranger he would probably cross the street to avoid. She could blame no one but herself for what had happened and that made it all the worse.
When the tears came she cried for a long while to the point of exhaustion, and she must have dozed off sitting on the window seat because when there was a knock at the door she came to with a start that nearly saw her falling onto the floor. For a breathtakingly hopeful moment she thought it might be John come to tell her he was taking her back to the house, but then a female voice called out, ‘Miss McKenzie?’
She got up slowly. Her right arm had gone to sleep and was sending painful pins and needles down into her fingers. She also realized it was almost dark outside and before long she would have to light the oil lamp on the dressing table.
One of the barmaids was standing on the landing when she opened the bedroom door. ‘Sorry to bother you, Miss McKenzie,’ the girl said brightly, ‘but Mr Palmer was wondering if you’d want dinner tonight and if so what time?’
‘Nothing for tonight, thank you, but could I order breakfast in the morning?’
‘Right you are. It won’t be much – lunch and dinner are the main meals – but would cold ham an’ cheese an’ crusty bread be all right?’
‘That’s fine.’
The barmaid nodded, her round brown eyes bright with curiosity. She looked as though she was going to say something else and then thought better of it, merely smiling and walking away.
Molly had seen the girl out and about in the village before and knew she would be aware she was the doctor’s housekeeper. She sighed as she shut the door. Now the rumours and gossip would start.
In the days that followed, Molly’s fighting spirit rose up in her. She could do nothing about restoring whatever relationship had existed between John and herself, and she had to come to terms with the fact that she had ruined the friendship she believed had existed between them. That being the case, she had two options. She could either sit in this little room and cry and chastise herself all day, or she could get on with salvaging something out of the tangled mess her life had become and hope that one day he wouldn’t hate her so much. The first course of action wasn’t viable, not with her nature, and so that left the alternative. This didn’t stop her pacing the floor for hours at night, dissecting the last ugly scene with John until sheer exhaustion caught up with her and she slept for a few hours, but it did convince her she needed to be doing something and that being incarcerated in the inn wasn’t good for her either mentally or physically. She’d been worried that if she ventured outside she might run into him but she had to get over that, she told herself on the third morning at the Plough.
And it was that afternoon that salvation appeared in the form of a small, middle-aged man with bushy hair and a face like a rosy apple. May, one of the barmaids, knocked on her door and said that there was a Mr Donald Stefford downstairs in the bar who wanted a word with her. ‘It’s him, miss, the man I told you about the first day you came,’ the girl added in a whisper. ‘The one whose mam is ailing. I said you might be interested in the cottage.’
Molly thanked the girl, quickly tidied her hair and went downstairs. Mr Stefford was waiting for her and conducted her to a table by the fire, ordering two coffees from the barmaid and then coming to the point immediately. ‘May tells me you’re on the lookout for somewhere to stay. Temporary or permanent, like?’
‘Preferably permanent but either. I – I recently left my employment and want to make a new start somewhere.’
