Meg wrapped the sheet round herself but then had to clutch the table because she still felt a bit dizzy. ‘My legs feel very weak. We make a good pair, don’t we?’
‘Yes.’ Phoebe smiled at her. ‘You look a lot better than yesterday, though. You’ve got a bit of colour in your cheeks now. I’ll show you where to go but you’d better get dressed quickly before Toby comes back.’ She passed over a small pile of clothing, turned her back for modesty’s sake, then showed the lass where to go, thinking that her clothes were little better than rags, all stained and tattered around the hem.
Toby came in soon afterwards. ‘Well, Greenhalgh has driven off now. I hope he’ll stay away this time.’
‘There’s nothing you can do to stop him coming here. It’s a public place, an inn. What does it matter anyway? Most of the folk round here know about the connection between the two of you. Word usually gets out, however hard you try to keep things secret.’
‘I don’t like being reminded of who my father was.’ He looked at the empty nest of blankets. ‘She’s awake, then?’
‘Aye. And in her senses. Seems a nice enough lass.’
‘Shall I pick up the blankets or will she be lying down again?’
‘I’ll not be lying down. I have to get on my way.’
He turned to see her standing in the doorway, but for all her brave words she was using the door frame for support and looked as if a few steps were all she’d be able to manage. Her face wasn’t pretty, too thin for that, but her eyes were bright with intelligence and life.
‘There’s no need to leave yet. You’ll need a day or two to recover,’ he told her.
‘I don’t want anyone’s charity.’
‘If that’s all that’s worrying you, you can help Phoebe to pay for your food – which is all your staying on will cost me. She’s not well, as you can see.’
‘I keep telling you I’m all right,’ Phoebe protested, but her pallor betrayed her as did another bout of coughing that had her doubled up.
‘And I keep telling you that I’m not blind,’ Toby said, still in the same mild tone. He bent to pick up the blankets and when he started trying to fold them, the stranger took hold of one end and they managed the task more easily between them.
‘Thank you.’ He watched her sit down afterwards as if the effort had exhausted her and laughed suddenly.
‘What’s so amusing?’ she asked, not used to people who laughed and smiled so much.
‘I was thinking that you and Phoebe between you probably make up one whole woman.’
She found herself smiling and admitting in her own mind that he was right. ‘Well, then, as long as I’m of some use . . .’ She looked questioningly at the older woman.
Phoebe smiled at them both. Trust her Toby to ease the situation. ‘I’d be grateful for your help. What’s your name, lass?’
‘Meg.’
‘Just Meg?’
She nodded.
‘Then let’s get some of my good stew into you if you’re to help me. You look like you need feeding up.’
Someone called from the public room and Toby left to serve a customer.
Phoebe looked at Meg. ‘I can see from your face that you’ve had some hard times . . .’
‘I don’t want to talk about them!’
‘Not to me, not now when I’m still a stranger. But later, when you know me better, if you ever want to tell me about it, well . . . people say I’m a good listener. I’ve not had an easy life myself so I don’t sit in judgement on other folk.’ She set a bowl of stew in front of the young woman, cut her a slice of bread and turned back to her cooking.
Meg ate slowly, enjoying every mouthful because the food had been given to her in kindness.
After a while Phoebe had to sit down, shaking her head. ‘I’m that weak. Can’t seem to shake this off. Would you keep an eye on that kettle for me? Push it to the side of the hob when it boils. I’ll just lie down on the sofa for a minute or two.’
Within seconds she was sleeping so Meg finished eating her food, cleared her bowl away into the scullery she could see through an open doorway, and came back to pull the kettle to one side and stir the stew which was starting to simmer gently now. When Toby returned, she put one fingertip to her lips and gestured to Phoebe.
He nodded in understanding and sat down at the table, saying in a whisper, ‘I wouldn’t mind a bowl of that stew myself.’
‘I’ll get it for you.’
She did that but he could see that like Phoebe she was quite weak so gestured to a chair at the table. ‘Have a rest now. It takes time to get over a fever and I doubt you’ve been eating properly for a while.’
She didn’t protest. ‘I do want to work for my keep, though. I’ve vowed never to be beholden to anyone again.’
‘That’s all right. Just do what you can and we’ll all help one another.’
He watched her when she wasn’t looking in his direction. She was stick thin but had lost that sallow waxy look at least. He wondered yet again what had brought her to this, but knew better than to ask. You got to know people when you were working in an inn, which ones wanted to talk and which didn’t. She definitely wasn’t the sort to tell her private affairs easily to a stranger.
Rain began falling again during the late afternoon and when the customers left, Toby closed the inn earlier than usual.
‘We’re all tired. Let’s go to bed.’
‘We’ll find you a proper bed tonight, love,’ Phoebe said. ‘You can have the bedroom next to mine. It’s small, but we cleaned it out for a maid so we only have to make up the bed.’
‘I’ll help her do that,’ Toby said. ‘You look asleep on your feet, Phoebe love.’
They two were so comfortable together, Meg envied them. ‘I can do it myself.’
‘Quicker with two of us.’ He smiled at her. ‘Go up with Phoebe and I’ll fetch some sheets from the linen cupboard.’
When he joined her in the bedroom, she had her arms wrapped round herself and was staring out of the window.
‘What can you see?’
‘Rain beating against the panes, darkness, nothing really. I’m glad to be inside tonight. It’s hard sleeping out when it’s wet.’
‘Must be.’ He pulled back the blankets and shook out one of the sheets. ‘You look tired out. Catch hold of that end. We’ll do this more quickly together.’
Within a few minutes the feather mattress had been shaken into softness and the sheets put on the bed. He stepped back and looked at her. ‘I’ll just go and fetch you up a hot brick, then I’ll get off to my own bed.’
He was back within the minute, carrying a brick wrapped in flannel. ‘There. That’ll warm you up.’
She hadn’t tried to get into bed, not till she was sure she was safe with him. She watched him tuck the brick into the bed and move back to the door. He didn’t look at her in
that way
.
When he’d gone she set the chair back under the door handle so that no one could sneak in without her hearing. He seemed nice, hadn’t tried to touch her while they were making the bed, but you could never be too careful when you were a woman on your own. Then she took off her top and skirt and crawled into bed.
She was so bone weary she’d expected to fall asleep immediately. But she lay awake for a while because she had recognised a new feeling. The first tiny tendril of hope had crept into her mind – hope that she would find something to do with the rest of her life, hope that the future wouldn’t be as bleak as this past few weeks had been, hope that her little daughter was sleeping peacefully somewhere kinder than this life had been to her.
Jethro arrived home and went to find Sophia. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘That you’d seen my damned half-brother in Halifax and—’ He cut off further words, horrified that he’d betrayed his secret to her.
She moved across the room to him and laid one hand on his arm. ‘I’d guessed he was your brother, Jethro. The resemblance is too strong for a distant relationship. That’s why I said nothing. I didn’t want to upset you.’ For once his mask of imperturbability wasn’t in place and as she looked up at him she saw how conflicting his emotions were. ‘Do you want to tell me about it – or shall we not mention it again?’
His hand came up to clasp hers and with a tense exhalation of air he drew her across to sit on the sofa. ‘I used to see him in the street when I was a lad, but I didn’t find out much about him until I was nearly grown, then my father told me. And I was angry, because Fletcher is older than me – and I don’t like him to wear my face. Does that sound stupid?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I wanted to send him away and my father tried to fix things . . . paid men to persuade him to go to Australia or America, the further away the better. Only he wouldn’t leave, said he belonged here in Lancashire.’
‘Who was his mother?’
‘A woman who worked in the mill. She came to Backenshaw from somewhere else after the baby was born, though my father never had anything to do with her again because he’d married my mother by then. The woman died a few years ago but
he
stayed on in Backenshaw, working for a carpenter. He’s good with his hands everyone says. Well thought of too, but I always hated him. Still do.’ He paused for a moment, wondering if that was true and amended it to, ‘Well, not hate, but I don’t like the fact that he exists.’
‘That’s sad, if you’re brothers.’
‘
Half
-brothers.’
‘It’s still a close relationship.’
‘Not for me.’
‘What does he do? Where does he live? In Halifax?’
‘Why do you need to know?’
‘If I’m to avoid him, it’d be useful to know where not to go. But if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t ask again.’
He shrugged. ‘Fletcher lives in that inn on the tops, the one on the road to your sister’s, the Packhorse. My father gave it to him just before he died. I was against that and tried to buy it back, but Fletcher wouldn’t sell, said he liked living there.’
‘He’s far enough away from Backenshaw now, surely?’
‘Not for me.’ Jethro leaned his head back against the sofa and sighed. ‘I have to go across to Halifax occasionally, or to see Andrew. Every time I pass that inn I think of Toby Fletcher and grow angry.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine feeling like that about my sister.’ When she said that she saw a look of anxiety cross his face. ‘What is it? What’s the matter with Harriet?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Jethro.’
He turned his head to look at her. ‘I think I’ve done your sister a disservice, introducing her to Andrew. She’s not happy and he’s – well, too abrupt with her.’
Sophia looked down at her skirt, tracing the edge of a frill very carefully. ‘I know she’s unhappy, but she won’t talk about it.’
‘Oh, hell!’ He pulled her into his arms and, for the first time since their marriage, embraced her openly, in daylight, outside their bedroom in a place where any of the servants could have seen them. ‘I’m sorry, Sophia. I meant it for the best. She seemed so eager to get married and move away from your mother, and he wanted a wife.’
‘I don’t blame you. There was no way you could have known he’d be unkind to her. But I can’t help worrying about her.’
‘No use dwelling on it. The deed is done now. Well, I’d better get back to work.’
She watched the bland expression settle on his face again and was sorry, but once he’d gone she smiled. She’d seen behind that mask today. It felt like an important step for both of them.
As for the brother, it seemed strange to think of Jethro having one, especially one who looked so like him. But if he wanted to keep his distance from the fellow, then she’d do as he wished.
14
I
n the morning Meg woke and stretched luxuriously because this was the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in. She was feeling so much better today, warm and cosy and – oh, dear, she’d promised to help out in the inn in return for her food and keep! What was she doing lying in bed like this when it was full daylight already? She threw off the covers, finding the November morning very cold.
There was water in a pretty jug sitting on a polished washstand. She couldn’t resist stroking the flowers on the jug and running her fingers over its shiny surface. She listened but could hear no sounds of movement so risked taking off her underclothes and giving herself a quick wash all over. What a pleasure that was! If only she’d had prettier clothes to put on afterwards, not her ragged old things. By the time she was dressed again she was shivering but didn’t care. It was worth it.
From the top of the stairs she heard someone moving about in the house place and hurried down to join Phoebe – but it was Mr Fletcher who was riddling the fire to get rid of the night’s ash.
He turned as he heard her come in. ‘Phoebe, can you – oh, it’s you, Meg. Have you seen Phoebe this morning? She’s usually down before me.’
‘No, I haven’t. Shall I go and knock on her door?’
He looked down at his filthy hands and back at her. ‘Would you? And if she doesn’t answer, just peep in and check that she’s all right. I’m a bit worried about her.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She ran back up the stairs, happy to be of use. When she knocked on the bedroom door, she heard a sound from inside and peeped in. There was enough daylight coming round the edges of the curtains for her to see that Phoebe was lying in bed with her eyes closed, looking pale, her breath rasping in her throat.
As Meg tiptoed across to stand by the side of the bed Phoebe opened her eyes. ‘What time – is it?’
‘I don’t know but Mr Fletcher said you were usually up by now and he was worried, so he asked me to come and see if you were all right.’
Phoebe tried to sit up but after a brief effort let her head drop back on to the pillows. ‘I feel dreadful,’ she admitted in a croaky voice. ‘But he needs me. Will you help me up? I’ll manage all right once I get going, I’m sure.’
‘I don’t think you should even try. You look really poorly. Besides, he’s got me to help him today, so he won’t be on his own.’