A crowd of women had gathered outside the shipping office in Eastcheap, their pale
faces masked with dread as they huddled together against the biting east wind. A
sleety rain tumbled from a pewter sky pitter-pattering softly on the cobblestones,
but not a sound could be heard from those patiently waiting for news of their loved
ones, except for the chattering of teeth and the occasional muffled sob.
Eloise
Cribb stood a little apart from them, but it was not that as an officer’s wife she
considered herself to be a cut above the rest. She was no snob, and her strict moral
upbringing as the daughter of a clergyman had taught her that all men were equal,
but she was uncomfortably aware that her elegant mantle trimmed with fur, and the
pert little matching hat, were in sharp contrast to the shabby clothes worn by wives
of the crew. She had scanned the gathering
for the familiar face of the captain’s wife, but she was not there.
Eloise knew that the poor lady was in an advanced state of pregnancy, and
her heart went out to her. How awful not
to know the fate of your beloved husband when you were about to give birth to his
child. The wives of the second and third
mate were clinging together for comfort, and, as she hardly knew them, Eloise had
acknowledged them with an attempt at a smile and then moved away.
She wiped a strand of long dark hair from
her forehead, blinking away the raindrops that trickled down her face like tears. In her heart she knew the answer even before
the heavy oak door opened and a whey-faced official representing the shipping company
appeared at the top of the stone steps. One
look at his pinched features confirmed her worst fears.
There was an audible intake of breath as the wives, sweethearts, mothers
and sisters waited for the inevitable announcement that the
Hellebore, which had now been overdue for several weeks, was lost at sea. A long drawn out groan of despair was
torn from the women’s lips as the official read out the company’s statement in a
voice choked with emotion. Eloise listened
but the only words that registered were those she had dreaded the most. ‘The Management
regrets to inform you that the tea clipper Hellebore
went down during a typhoon in the
China Sea
with the loss of all hands.’
A loud animal-like howl of pain was ripped
from a pregnant woman’s throat and several others fainted or collapsed in the arms
of their friends and relatives. Eloise stood
quite still, totally silent, unable even to cry.
Her brief marriage to First Officer Ronald Cribb had not been perfect, but she had
loved him dearly. The long months of enforced
separation had been hard to bear, but it had made their reunion all the sweeter
when at last he came home on leave. She shivered
convulsively as the harsh fact dawned on her that her two children, Joseph who would
be three in June, and Elizabeth, a babe in arms not quite four months old, were
now fatherless. She was a widow, and she
was virtually penniless. Stunned and too
shocked to feel either grief or pain, she waited in line while the counting house
clerk handed out the allotments to the distraught widows.
Eloise could tell by his tight-lipped expression that he was close to tears
himself, and she felt vaguely sorry for him in his onerous task, but her mind seemed
to be detached from her body as she held out her hand to receive the small brown
envelope. The clerk murmured condolences,
but he could not look her in the eyes and she saw that his hands shook as he fumbled
for the next pay packet. Eloise moved away
from the head of the queue like an automaton, putting one foot in front of the other
and yet barely conscious of what she was doing or which way she was going.
All she knew was that she must get home to her babies: poor fatherless little
mites, who now depended on her for everything.
Blinded by the rain and tasting the salt
tears that were flooding down her cheeks, she stumbled over the wet cobblestones
as she headed off in the direction of Shoreditch.
It was a long walk to
Myrtle Street
but she did not want to waste money on the bus fare, and she needed time in which
to compose herself. Her heart might be broken
into shards, but she must not let the little ones sense her despair.
At least they were warm and dry at home, safe in the care of her neighbour’s
eldest daughter, Mary, who was a stolid reliable sort of child, and could be trusted
not to leave Joss and Beth unattended.
Eloise
headed north towards Bishopsgate, barely noticing the crowds of workers who were
hurrying homewards. She was soaked to the
skin and her feet were blistered and sore, but she was oblivious to physical pain
or discomfort and she quickened her pace.
She wanted to be at home with her children.
She longed to hold them in her arms and to inhale their sweet, baby fragrance. Joss and Beth were her last link with Ronald. Her breath caught on a sob as the harsh
truth dawned upon her. She would never see him again.
She would never have the chance to kiss him goodbye, or even have the small
comfort of seeing him laid to rest in a leafy cemetery where she might lay flowers
on his grave. She stumbled on through the
rain-soaked streets ignoring the curious looks of passers-by, but after a while
a painful stitch in her side forced her to stop and lean against a shop window gasping
for breath. As the pain ebbed away, Eloise
made a concerted effort to be calm. She must
try to think clearly. She must not panic.
As her breathing slowed down and the fog of misery began to clear from her brain,
she knew what she must do. She would collect
the children and take them home to the vicarage and to Mother.
Mama would make things right again.
She always knew what to do for the best.
Gaining strength from the thought of her
mother’s comforting presence and the familiar surroundings of her old home, Eloise
started off again, edging her way through the slowly moving forest of black umbrellas. She tried to focus her thoughts on happier
times, recalling her first meeting with Ronnie and the heady days of their whirlwind
romance.
They had met at a church social during one of his infrequent shore leaves.
Ronnie was not a religious man but, having nothing better to do, he had accompanied
one of his shipmates to the social evening, and he had always teased her about the
way they met, declaring that it was the ‘best worst evening of his life’.
Eloise was not fooled by his levity; she had known the first moment she had
set eyes on him in the church hall that he was the one for her, and she knew that
Ronnie had felt the same. He had charmed
her with his dazzling smile and craggy good looks.
She had noticed particularly how his bright blue eyes were crinkled at the corners,
caused no doubt by years of gazing across vast oceans into the far horizon, and
his lively sense of humour had quickly overcome her initial shyness.
They had danced every dance to the rather out of tune notes of Miss Brompton
on the pianoforte. They had sipped the fruit
cup, which was so well diluted that there was barely a trace of alcohol in the over-sweet
drink, and they had eaten fairy cakes baked by the Misses Bragg, two maiden ladies
who owned a millinery in
Pear Tree
Lane
.
‘Oy, look where you’re going, ducks.’ The
strident voice of a costermonger whose barrow she had bumped against brought Eloise
back to reality with a jerk. She bent down
to retrieve the oranges that had bounced into the gutter, which was oozing with
muddy rainwater mixed with straw and detritus from the streets. She gave them back
to him with a murmured apology.
He
squinted short-sightedly into her face. ‘I should get home and out of them wet duds
if I was you, miss. You’ll end up with lung fever if you’re not careful.’
Eloise managed a wobbly smile and went on
her way. Battling against the wind and rain,
it took her over half an hour to reach
Myrtle
Street
. It was not the most spiritually uplifting
of places in which to live, but the rent was reasonably cheap, which was essential
as they always seemed to be short of money.
Although Ronnie earned a good wage he was a spendthrift by nature, and no matter
how many times she had tried to make him live within their means he had never complied,
laughing at her attempts to balance the housekeeping, and telling her that ‘there
was plenty more where that came from’.
Cold, wet and tired, Eloise quickened her
pace as she walked down the narrow street lined with red-brick terraced houses which
had been built half a century ago to house the navigators, mostly Irish immigrants,
who were needed to construct the vast network of railways.
They had long since moved on, following the progress of the railways and
canals. Now these two up and two down dwellings
were crowded with people of all nationalities, sometimes two or three different
families sharing one house and a single privy in the back yard.
Eloise knew she ought to be thankful to have the house to herself, but living
in this deprived area had been a shock after the relative comfort of the large vicarage
in
Dorset
where she had grown up. Papa had not been
happy when he was given a parish in Clerkenwell, but he had seen it to be his duty
and had moved his family from the country to
London
. Eloise had been just sixteen then, fresh
from Miss Mason’s Academy for Young Ladies, and hoping that she might go on to become
a teacher, but Papa had insisted that she ought to stay at home and assist her mother
with her parish duties. It had not occurred
to her to flout his wishes, and it was no hardship as Eloise adored her gentle mother;
they were the best of friends, more like sisters, so other people had often remarked,
than mother and daughter.
As Eloise opened the front door, she had
one thought uppermost in her mind. She would
put the children in the perambulator that Ronnie had bought when Joss was born,
and she would take them home to Mother. She stepped into the front room and shivered
as the warmth enveloped her. A coal fire
was burning brightly in the grate and beside it sat Mary, with Joss dandled on her
knee. She stopped in the middle of the nursery
rhyme she had been reciting to him and stared at Eloise with large brown eyes that
were too knowing for her tender years. ‘Is it bad news then, missis?’
Eloise took off her sodden, and probably
ruined, fur hat. Rainwater was dripping from her clothes staining the floorboards
on which she had expended much time and energy polishing them until they gleamed
like satin. She nodded, momentarily unable to speak.
Joss was holding his arms out to her, smiling with delight. ‘Mama, Mama.’
She bent down to kiss his curly blond head.
‘In a moment, darling. Mama needs to change out of her wet clothes.’
‘He’s not coming home then?’ Mary said in
a matter-of-fact voice.
The
harsh reality of Mary’s words struck Eloise like a blow, but she bit back a sharp
retort. The child was merely stating the
truth. There were many seafarers’ families who lived in the area, and there were
few who had not been touched by some sort of disaster be it death by drowning or
crippling accidents. She shook her head. ‘No, Mary. I fear not.’
‘You go upstairs and change out of them wet
things then, or you’ll be next. I don’t mind
staying on for a bit with young Joss, and the baby is still asleep.’
Eloise made her way slowly up the narrow
staircase; the boards creaked beneath her feet and her high button boots squelched,
leaving little pools of water on the bare treads.
In the bedroom at the front of the house, Beth lay sleeping in her cradle, her thick
golden eyelashes forming crescents on her rosy cheeks.
Her breathing was so soft that Eloise had to resist the temptation to touch
her, just to make sure she was still alive, but then the baby stirred slightly in
her sleep and Eloise began to breathe again, but her relief was tinged with bitterness. It was so unfair that Ronnie would never see
his beautiful daughter and that Beth would grow up without knowing her father. Eloise bit back a sob, and she was trembling
as she stripped off her wet clothes and towelled her skin until it glowed pink. Her breasts were engorged with milk and tingling. Soon it would be time to feed Beth, and
she must do this before she could even think of leaving the house. She must focus
on practical things; it was the only way to keep going.
She put on a clean shift and her only other
pair of stays, lacing them as best she could with fingers that burned painfully
now that the feeling was returning to her extremities.
She took a clean white cotton blouse from the cupboard and a plain navy-blue
serge skirt. She took off her wet stockings
and dried the inside of her boots as best she could with the end of the towel. She would have to put them on again as her
old boots had worn out months ago, and although her mama would gladly have bought
her a new pair it was more than just pride that prevented Eloise from asking for
help. Papa was not exactly mean, but he kept
a tight hold on the purse strings, and Eloise knew that when Mama gave her money
or bought her clothes it came out of her own allowance, which was not over-generous.
She sighed as she pulled on a dry pair of
much-darned stockings. Money had been tight
since Ronnie’s last leave. He had come home
hell bent on enjoying himself and had taken her to the music halls, theatres,
Cremorne Gardens
and the Zoological Gardens. They had eaten
out almost every night, either taking Joss with them or leaving him with Mary’s
mother, Fanny, who was pleased to oblige for a mere penny or twopence. No matter
how much Eloise had protested that they could not afford such a lifestyle, Ronnie
had merely laughed. If she closed her eyes
she could still see the merry gleam in his blue eyes and hear the infectious sound
of his laughter. ‘If I can’t take my lovely
wife out and show her off when I come home on leave, then it ain’t worth the pain
and trouble of separation.’ She could hear
him now. ‘Don’t worry, my love. I’ll send
more funds when I get to my next port of call.
I promise you that.’ But like the rest of
his promises, that one was never kept.
Beth
stirred again and opened her blue eyes, so like her father’s.
She began to whimper and Eloise scooped her up in her arms. ‘Oh, my little
treasure, what am I going to do? How will
we manage on our own?’ She sat down on the
edge of her bed and undid the buttons of her blouse, putting the baby to her breast. ‘We will go and see your grandmama; she will
know what to do.’
It had stopped raining, and
Myrtle Street
was cloaked in darkness when Eloise finally left the house with both children tucked
up together in the perambulator. It was bitterly cold and the air smelt of soot
with a hint of snow to come. Eloise wrapped
her muffler a little tighter around her neck and she stepped out briskly, heading
towards
City
Road
. The streets were quiet at this time on a freezing January evening, and she was
able to pass unnoticed in the shadows between the pools of flickering yellow gaslight. Her breath curled like smoke around her face
and head, but the two children slept peacefully in the warm cocoon of blankets in
the perambulator. Her heart ached as she
looked down at their innocent faces. How
she would manage she did not know. Ronnie
had never saved a penny in his life, nor had he thought to take out life insurance. She would have to find work and quickly too. Mother would help.
Mother would know exactly what to do.
Eloise quickened her pace, breathing more easily as she saw the spire of her father’s
church looming above the pall of smoke that always hung over this part of the city.
There was light shining from the vicarage
windows and Eloise sighed with relief. She
had not stopped to wonder if her parents might be out at a church meeting or a social;
she had just followed her instinct to fly home where she knew she would be safe. She knocked on the door, muffling the sound
of the iron door knocker with her hand lest it should wake the babies.
She listened for the sound of approaching footsteps on the encaustic tiled
floor and her throat tightened with unshed tears when finally the door opened and
she saw her mother’s slender figure silhouetted against the gaslight in the hall.
‘Eloise! My darling girl.
What brings you out on a night like this?
And with the babies too.’ Grace Monkham held the door open wide. ‘Bring them in
out of the cold.’
Eloise pushed the perambulator into the porch
and collapsed in tears in her mother’s arms.
Grace stroked her hair, holding her daughter
to her bosom. ‘Oh, no, Ellie. It isn’t –
it can’t be …’
‘Ronnie’s dead, Mama. His sh-ship went d-down
with all hands in the
Ch-China Seas
.’
‘What’s wrong, Grace?’ Jacob Monkham came
out of his study, holding a copy of The Times
in his hand. ‘What’s happened?’
Grace held up her hand. ‘It’s Ronnie. There’s
been a terrible disaster at sea. Have we
got any medicinal brandy, Jacob?’
‘I’ll see if there is any in the chiffonier.
Take her into the parlour and sit her by the fire.
She looks perished.’ Jacob disappeared into the dining room on the far side of the
hall.
‘There, there, darling,’ Grace murmured,
leading Eloise into the welcoming warmth of the parlour. ‘Sit by the fire and Papa
will bring you something to make you feel better.’
Eloise collapsed into the comfort of a red-velvet
wingback chair by the fire, ‘My babies, Mama. It’s too cold for them in the porch.’
‘Don’t worry, my dear. Janet will look after
them. It’s you I’m more concerned with at
the moment.’ Grace tugged at an embroidered bell pull. ‘Do you feel up to talking,
Ellie?’
Eloise fished in her pocket for a handkerchief,
and realising that she had forgotten to bring one, she looked to her mother. Without the need to be asked, Grace took a
clean square of white lawn from her pocket and pressed it into Eloise’s hand with
a rueful smile. ‘In all your life, Eloise, I have never known you to have a hanky
when you needed one. You were always like
that even as a child.’
Eloise blew her nose and was composing herself
to tell her mother everything when Janet, the cook-general, put her head round the
door. She glanced at Eloise and her sandy
eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She cast
a questioning glance at Grace. ‘What’s up?’
Grace hurried over to her, lowering her voice.
‘There’s been a tragic loss at sea, Janet.
Will you take the babies upstairs and put them to bed in Ellie’s old room?’
Eloise attempted to raise herself from the
chair but her legs would not support her.
She gulped and sniffed. ‘Mama, they cannot sleep in a proper bed.
They’ll roll out and hurt themselves, besides which I really ought to take
them home.’
‘Nonsense, I won’t hear of it.
This is still your home, and you must stay for tonight at least.
You are in no fit state to be alone, darling.’ Grace motioned to Janet to
go about her business. ‘You know what to do, don’t you, Janet?’
‘I should think I ought to, ma’am.
Having looked after you since you was a girl and Miss Eloise since the day
she was born, I think I can still remember how to make up a bed for the little ones
in drawers from the chest.’ Janet tossed her head and her white mobcap wobbled dangerously
on top of her frizzy, pepper and salt curls. ‘Leave it to me, Miss Eloise, and don’t
you fret.’
She bustled out of the room, passing Jacob
in the doorway. He carried a brandy bottle in one hand and three small glasses in
the other. He put them down on an occasional
table and poured out three tots, handing one to Eloise and one to his wife. He downed the third in one gulp.
His bushy white eyebrows knotted together over the top of his aquiline
nose. ‘So there’s no hope then, Eloise?’
She sipped the brandy and the fiery spirit
caught her at the back of her throat, making her cough. ‘N-none at all, Papa. The Hellebore
went down in a t-typhoon with the loss of all h-hands.’
She mopped her eyes with the hanky. ‘I’m sorry, I c-can’t stop crying.’
‘I am sorry, my dear.’ Jacob patted her awkwardly
on the shoulder. ‘You know that I didn’t approve of your marriage to Ronald, but
I am grieved by your loss However, in time I am sure that …’
Grace laid her hand on his arm. ‘Not now,
Jacob. Eloise does not need a sermon at this
moment in time.’
‘I only meant to offer words of comfort,
Grace.’
‘Perhaps they will be more welcome tomorrow,
my dear, after the poor girl has had a good night’s sleep.
Why don’t you go back to reading your newspaper and leave her to me.’ Grace
reached up to kiss him on his whiskery cheek.
‘Very well, but tomorrow I will offer up
prayers in church for the departed.’
Grace pushed him gently towards the doorway.
‘Of course you will, dear. But right now I think that Eloise’s physical needs are
more important. I doubt if she’s had supper,
or if she’s had anything to eat at all today.’
His stern countenance melted just a fraction.
‘Trust you to be practical, Grace. I’ll be
in my study if you need me.’ He left the room casting an anxious glance at Eloise
and shaking his head. ‘Very sad, very sad indeed.’
‘Now, darling,’ Grace said gently. ‘Everything
will be taken care of. Take off your boots
and I’ll fetch a warm mustard bath for your feet, and Janet will make you some supper
when she’s seen to the children.’
‘Thank you, Mama, but I couldn’t eat a thing.’
‘You must keep your strength up, if only
for the children’s sake.’ Grace paused with her hand on the doorknob. ‘I can only
imagine how you must be feeling at the moment, Ellie, darling.
But the pain will grow less in time, believe me.’
Eloise managed a weak smile. ‘I expect you’re
right, Mama. But part of me just refuses to believe that Ronnie is gone forever.’
Grace’s dark eyes filled with tears and her
lips trembled. She nodded her head and slipped
quickly out of the room.
For the rest of the evening, Eloise drifted
between disbelief and despair. She seemed
to have regressed into childhood again as Grace and Janet fussed over her with tempting
little dishes of food, a hot mustard bath for her icy feet, and a warm crocheted
blanket to wrap around her shoulders. The interior of the old vicarage was slightly
shabby and the furniture might not be in the latest fashion, but it was a warm and
welcoming home filled with many memories, most of them happy.
When it was time for bed Eloise was touched to find that Janet had warmed
the sheets with two stone hot water bottles, and one of her mother’s frilled lawn
nightdresses had been laid out on the satin coverlet.
A coal fire burned brightly in the grate, making companionable crackling
sounds and the air in the room was fragrant with the scent of dried lavender.
Joss
and Beth were sleeping peacefully in two large drawers taken from the oak tallboy,
and Eloise leaned over to kiss their plump cheeks before climbing into her old bed.
She turned off the gaslight and snuggled down beneath the covers, watching the shadows
on the walls created by the flickering firelight. She could smell her mother’s scent
in the fabric of the nightgown, and the starched white sheets were as smooth as
glass. It was all so familiar and comforting,
but Eloise knew there was no going back.
She was not the young girl who had dreamt of becoming a teacher, of love and romance
with a fairytale ending when she married her prince.
She was the widowed mother of two very young children; she had a home of
her own and she must now make a life for herself.
She knew that she could rely on her parents for help, although if the truth were
told she had always been a little scared of Papa, whose mind was seemed to be on
a loftier plane than that of ordinary secular folk. Eloise closed her eyes, but
she was certain that she would not sleep a wink.
When the sound of a baby crying awakened
her, Eloise sat bolt upright in bed. At first she could not remember where she was,
and when she recognised the room she could not think why she was here.
Then it all came flooding back to her and it was not just the bitter chill
of the January night that made her shiver.
Beth’s cries were becoming more insistent and Eloise swung her legs over the edge
of the bed, moving carefully so as not to disturb Joss, and she lifted Beth up in
her arms. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders,
she returned to the warmth of her bed, where she sat propped up on pillows while
Beth suckled hungrily. Eloise closed her
eyes, comforted by the physical closeness of her baby and the feeling of the small
mouth tugging insistently at her nipple.
Whatever happened, she would protect her children. Things might look bleak now,
in the small hours of the morning, but she would find a way to support both them
and herself. If she could get some kind of
teaching post in the church school, perhaps Mama and Janet would help look after
the children in the daytime. They could return
home to
Myrtle Street
at night, and she would not be completely dependent on her parents.
She would talk it over with them in the morning.
Next morning at breakfast, Eloise broached
the subject but the reaction she received was far different to the one she had anticipated. Mama looked stricken and Papa pushed his plate
of buttered eggs and bacon to one side, barely touched.
He cleared his throat and rose from the table, pacing the floor with his
hands clasped behind his back. ‘This comes
at a most unfortunate time, Eloise.’
‘I don’t understand, Papa.’
Grace reached out to touch Eloise’s hand.
‘Your father has something to tell you, Ellie.
We weren’t going to mention it yet. I mean, with things as they are …’ Her voice
trailed off and she cast a beseeching look at her husband. ‘Jacob, I think you ought
to tell her exactly what you plan to do.’
Eloise looked from one to the other and cold
fingers of fear clutched at her heart. ‘What have you to tell me? Please, just say
it, Papa.’
Jacob came to a halt by his chair and sat
down suddenly, as if his legs had given way beneath him. ‘There’s no easy way to
say this, particularly at a time when you are not quite yourself. But you must know
that I have not been particularly happy working here in
London
. I didn’t want to leave my parish in
Dorset
but I did my duty and uprooted us all to come here to this filthy, vice-ridden place.’
Grace frowned at him. ‘Just tell her, Jacob.’
‘Some time ago, Eloise, I applied to the
Missionary Society for a posting to
Africa
. Nothing came of it for a while, and then I heard recently that I had been accepted. To put it briefly, in two weeks’ time your
mother and I are leaving on a ship bound for
Mombasa
. We will be gone for at least two years before we are eligible for home leave,
and it could be even longer.’ Jacob picked up his teacup and took a mouthful of
tea, which he swallowed convulsively. ‘I have been called, Eloise.
I have to go.’
Stunned and disbelieving, Eloise looked to
her mother for help. ‘No, surely not. I can’t
believe that you would both go so far away, especially now.’
‘My dear, I don’t want to leave you, but
I have no choice.’ Grace bowed her head and her fingers plucked at the starched
napkin lying on her lap. ‘I have to go, my love.’
Eloise leapt to her feet. ‘But I need you
here, Mama. You can’t desert me.’
A broken sob escaped from Grace’s lips. ‘Oh,
Ellie. If only things were different.’
Jacob glared at Eloise, his brows lowered.
‘That’s enough, Eloise. Your mother must
do her duty and accompany me on my mission.
I cannot abandon my calling just because you have lost your husband.
I warned you against marrying him, but you wouldn’t listen to me.
Now you must live with the consequences of your foolish liaison.’
‘Papa!’ Shocked by his violent tone, Eloise
could only stare at him in dismay. ‘How can you speak to me like that?’
‘Jacob, please.’ Grace held her hand out
to him. ‘You’re making things worse.’
‘Eloise is a grown woman now.
She has children of her own and she will have to follow the path in life
which she has chosen. You have another family,
Eloise. Your children have grandparents in
Yorkshire
. They must take some responsibility for
their son’s wife and children.’
Eloise faced her father across the breakfast
table. ‘I would sooner die than go to live with them, Papa.
Ronnie’s mother hates me, I know she does.’
‘Really, Eloise.
Don’t be so dramatic,’ Jacob retorted angrily. ‘When we met at the wedding
I thought she was a sensible, down to earth woman, and she went out of her way to
be pleasant.’
‘Maybe to you, but I know that she would
rather that Ronnie had married a plain
Yorkshire
girl, not a soft southerner.’
Jacob rose to his feet, scowling. ‘This is
hysterical nonsense. You are overwrought.’
Grace pushed her chair back from the table
and she went to stand beside Eloise. ‘Stop it, both of you.
This is all wrong. We should be helping
our daughter, Jacob. We should be comforting
her in her loss, not abandoning her to the care of strangers.’ She wrapped her arms
around Eloise and hugged her. ‘My poor girl, it will break my heart to leave you.’
‘Stay with me, Mama.
Don’t follow him to the wilds of the
Dark Continent
. Stay with me and the children. I can find
work. We’ll manage somehow.’
Jacob thumped his hand down on the table,
causing the crockery and cutlery to bounce and jiggle. ‘That’s enough, Eloise. Your mother knows her duty and that is to
accompany me on my mission. You are an ungrateful girl and a wicked daughter to
try to turn her against me.’
Eloise glared at him over her mother’s bent
head. They were both sobbing now, but she
was also furious. ‘How can you stand there and pretend you are a man of God when
you treat your wife and daughter like this?
You call me wicked, Papa, but I think it is you who are bad and unfeeling, and unchristian.’
‘That’s enough.’ Jacob strode round the table
and he caught his wife by the shoulders, dragging her away from Eloise. ‘This behaviour
will stop now. Grace, I expect better from
you. This sort of outburst is unseemly in
a woman of your age and station in life.
You are behaving like the lowest of the low slum women who rant and rave quite out
of control. This sordid, godforsaken part
of
London
has had a terrible effect on both of you, and you will be better off away from here.’
Grace tried to break free from him, but he
held her by the wrist. ‘Jacob, let me go. You’re hurting me.
In all our years of married life I have never gone against your wishes, I
have followed you wherever your calling led us, but I think you are quite wrong
in this. You are putting the needs of others
above those of our daughter.’
‘I am doing God’s will, Grace.
You will come with me, and Eloise will go to
Yorkshire
to live with her in-laws. I am going to my
study to write them a letter explaining the situation right now, and I hope by the
time I am done you will have composed yourself and remembered your duty to me.’ He slammed out of the room.
Eloise and Grace stood in shocked silence
staring at the closed door. Eloise was the first to recover and she placed her arm
around her mother’s shoulders. ‘I am so sorry, Mama.
I didn’t mean to come between you and Papa.
I just can’t bear the thought of you being so far away, especially when I need you
so much.’
‘My
darling girl, I would give anything to change the situation, but your father is
a stubborn man. Once he has made his mind
up to something, I don’t think even God himself could dissuade him from his purpose.’
Grace’s brown eyes were magnified by unshed tears, but her lips quivered in a wry
smile.
‘Don’t go with him, Mama.
Stay here with me. I’ll work my fingers
to the bone to keep us all.’
‘I wish it were that simple, but your father
needs me and, whether I like it or not, my place is at his side.
I just hope that if he finds missionary work not to his liking he will agree
to return home. You can be certain that I
will do everything in my power to persuade him to come back to
England
. I wouldn’t mind living in the poorest parish
in the land if I could be near you and my grandchildren.’
Eloise laid her head on her mother’s shoulder,
too distraught even to cry. ‘Oh, Mama, what shall I do without you?’
Grace hugged her fiercely. ‘You will go on
for your children, Ellie. As I will go on
for you, and one day we will be reunited, I promise you that.’
‘Oh, Mama, I wish I was as brave and strong
as you. But whatever happens, I’ll keep my
children with me and I won’t go and live with the hateful Cribbs in
Yorkshire
. I would rather die.’
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