A Mother's Wish (18 page)

‘So who was Toby’s father?’ Effie had to ask the question, but she could see from Nellie’s taut expression that she was not going to get a satisfactory answer.

‘There’s only one person who knows the answer to that, and she’s been dead these past eighteen years.’

‘I still don’t understand why Mr Westlake
thought I was Mirella. I don’t think anyone would describe me as a wild gypsy girl.’

‘Maybe not, but you’re pretty in the same way that she was. You look as though a puff of wind would carry you away, and I reckon those big blue eyes of yours have turned a few heads.’

‘I was happily married,’ Effie said hastily. ‘I loved my husband and it broke my heart when he died, but at least I have Georgie to remind me of him.’ She laid him back on the bed. ‘The thought of losing him is terrifying. I can’t imagine my life without him.’

Nellie thrust a cup of tea into her hands. ‘No need to talk like that. He’s a sturdy little fellow and no mistake. Drink this and have a bite to eat, but don’t think I’m going to wait on you hand and foot because I ain’t. I got enough to do keeping me eye on the master without acting like a lady’s maid.’

Effie took a sip of the hot, sweet tea. ‘Thank you, Mrs Halfpenny.’

‘There’s some of her old clothes in that chest of drawers if you need ’em, and I suppose you’d better call me Nellie, seeing as how you’re staying awhile.’

‘You’re very kind, Nellie.’

‘Well, I am too. I’m me own worst enemy with me big soft heart and kindly nature.’ Nellie marched to the door. ‘And as soon as
the young ’un is on the mend, you can repay me by doing a bit of spring cleaning, and there’s a pile of dirty washing to launder.’ She whisked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Effie drank the tea, but with the memory of the pan of lard dotted with dead flies still fresh in her mind she could not touch the bread and dripping. She spent the rest of the morning tending to her sick child. She held his small hand and stroked his forehead as she sang the lullabies that had sent him happily off to sleep when he was a baby. The sound of her voice seemed to calm him, and when she could sing no more she made up stories about anything that came into her head. There was no clock in the room and the only way she had of telling the time was by the height of the sun in the sky. She judged that it was about noon when Nellie brought her another cup of tea and a plate of bread and butter.

‘I was taking food up to the master,’ she said with a twitch of her shoulders, as if daring Effie to accuse her of another kind deed. ‘I don’t want you fainting from lack of nourishment so that I have to look after the nipper. I can’t abide kids, as I’ve told you before.’ She leaned over the bed. ‘Is he any better?’

‘He’s no worse, but thank you for asking.’

Nellie tossed her head. ‘I was just being
polite. He’ll soon be up and about and poking his sticky fingers into everything.’ She went to retrieve the breakfast tray. ‘I dunno what’s keeping young Toby and the doctor. It ain’t that far to his house, unless he was called out and Toby had to go searching for him.’ She snatched up the tray and left the room, grumbling beneath her breath.

Effie was not fooled for a moment. She had begun to realise that Nellie Halfpenny was not nearly as unfeeling as she made herself out to be. Beneath that steely exterior, Effie was beginning to believe that there really was a soft heart. She eyed the food warily and was going to push the plate away when she realised that she was extremely hungry. The aroma of freshly made bread was too tempting to resist, and when she took a tentative bite she found that it tasted as good as it looked and smelt. She ate hungrily, and having drunk the tea she began to feel stronger and more positive. Georgie was still feverish, but at least he seemed to be no worse.

There was little she could do other than to settle down and wait for Toby to return with the doctor. It was mid-afternoon when he burst into the room and Effie leapt to her feet. ‘Where is the doctor?’ she asked anxiously when she realised that there was no one following him. ‘Is he coming?’

Toby shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Effie. I’ve spent the day chasing him from one place to another and finally caught up with him at a difficult confinement. He said that there is very little he can do for a case of measles, but he’ll look in when the woman is delivered of her child.’

Effie sank down on the bed. ‘It could be too late then. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Don’t give up so easily.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out a small green bottle, which he placed in her hand. ‘I knew that there were gypsies camped on the edge of Epping Forest, and when the doctor wouldn’t come immediately I decided to pay my family a long overdue visit.’

‘What is this?’ Effie demanded, holding the bottle up to the light.

‘My grandmother is a wise woman. She makes medicines for humans and animals using herbs that she picks in the fields and forests. I’ve seen her pills and potions work miracles.’

‘I don’t know,’ Effie said, shaking her head. ‘I’m not sure I believe in magic.’

Toby took the bottle from her and drew the cork. ‘Give the boy a couple of drops at a time mixed with a little water. She said that it would bring the fever down and make him more comfortable. Come on, Effie. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?’

She sniffed the mixture suspiciously, and she glanced down at her sick child. She had watched Owen breathe his last and she did not intend to see Georgie slip away before his time. ‘Pass me the jug of water and a spoon, please, Toby.’

He smiled. ‘Wise choice, Effie. We’ll soon have young Georgie up and about again.’

By evening there was a slight improvement in Georgie’s condition. Effie had not left his bedside other than to go down to the outside privy when she needed to relieve herself. Toby had remained long enough to eat a hasty meal, and leaving his horse to rest, he had saddled the mare that Effie had ridden the day before and set off for Old Ford lock where he intended to ask the lock keeper if the
Margaret
had passed that way recently.

Effie waited anxiously for his return, alternately sitting on the bed and watching Georgie or pacing over to the window which overlooked the tangled garden at the front of the house and the road beyond. It was dark by the time Toby returned, and having recognised his firm tread, Effie ran to open the door. She could see lines of fatigue around the corners of his eyes and he was coated in dust from head to foot. He glanced past her at the tiny figure in the bed. ‘Has the doctor been?’

Effie shook her head. ‘No, but the medicine seems to be working. He’s much quieter than he was this morning and he feels cooler to the touch.’

‘That’s good,’ he said tiredly.

‘Did you find anything out at the lock?’

He shook his head. ‘The lock keeper hadn’t seen them for weeks and no sign of Tom either. I’m sorry, Effie.’

Swallowing the bitter pill of disappointment, she laid her hand on his arm. ‘It’s not your fault, Toby. You did your best and I’m truly grateful.’

‘I’ll pay a visit to the tavern in the morning. I’m sure that Ben will have some news for me. I won’t give up until I find him, I promise you that.’

‘I just wish that I could come with you.’

A frown creased Toby’s brow. ‘The old devil hasn’t been bothering you again, has he?’

‘No. Nellie saw to that. She’s not a bad old thing when you get to know her. In fact she’s been quite kind and considerate today.’

‘Nevertheless, I’ll sleep up here tonight,’ Toby said firmly. ‘I’ll take the floor so there’s no need for you to worry.’

Effie smiled up at him. ‘I trust you completely, Toby.’

‘Damnation. I must be losing my touch.’

His expression was so comical that it made Effie laugh. ‘You are such a fool.’

He bent down to brush her cheek with a kiss. ‘Now I am a comic turn. You’ll ruin my reputation as a libertine and seducer of pretty women.’

She tossed her head. ‘I never believed it anyway. I think that the girls chased after you, and your reputation is quite unjustified.’

‘Damn it, Effie. Can’t you leave a fellow with a scrap of vanity?’ He pulled a face as he walked towards the door. ‘I’m going to stick my head under the pump in the stable yard and get rid of some of this Essex dust before it chokes me.’

Effie smiled to herself as she slipped into bed beside Georgie. In spite of everything, she thought how lucky she was to have found a friend like Toby. She could not think of many young men who would behave as valiantly, or with such chivalry, as the man who was labelled a didicoi and a horse thief by those who did not know him well. After a while she heard the soft thud of his stockinged feet as he returned to the room and the rustling of blankets as he made his bed on the floor. She closed her eyes and relaxed, safe in the knowledge that with Toby to protect her she could sleep easily.

The following day Georgie continued to improve. The doctor came eventually, and after a cursory examination he declared that the patient was over the worst. There had been no need to drag him out into the wilds of Hackney Marshes to see a child who was obviously on the road to recovery, he told them crossly. Having been charged a shilling for the privilege of being scolded for wasting the doctor’s valuable time, Effie had keep a rein on her temper as she saw him out of the house. She longed to tell him that it was the gypsy’s medicine that had cured her son, but she held her tongue. She was well aware that the general population were suspicious of travellers, and that included fairground folk and boat people as well as the Romany. She could tell by his superior attitude that he had taken her at face value, assuming that her gaudy patchwork skirt and low-cut blouse, given to her by Laila, had marked her out as one of them. She supposed that she could hardly blame him as the master of the house had jumped to a similar conclusion. Out of politeness, she held the doctor’s bag for him while he mounted his horse.

‘I would advise you to keep the curtains drawn in the boy’s room,’ he said, gruffly. ‘The child should be kept in the dark for at least a week to protect his eyes.’ Taking the bag from
her hands he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and rode off at a steady trot.

‘That was a waste of a shilling,’ Effie muttered, addressing his retreating figure. If he had not been in such a hurry to get the examination over and done with, and had paid more attention to the sparse condition of the sick room than to her manner of dress, he might have noticed that there were no curtains at the windows to draw. She took a deep breath of the fresh breeze skimming the farmland east of the marsh. She could smell the honey scent of clover and new-mown hay mingled with the summer perfume of roses and honeysuckle from the overgrown manor garden. Overhead a skylark warbled its melodious song and the drone of bees was like sweet music to her ears. After the stench of the city with its constant din of traffic and the noise and hullabaloo of the fairground, it was a relief to be once again in the quiet of the countryside. Here she had time to think and feel whole again, just as she had in the early days of her marriage. She smiled as she remembered how she had stood at Owen’s side while he steered the
Margaret
along the waterways leaving the smoke and dust of the East End far behind them. She lifted her face to feel the caress of the sun and she stretched her arms out wide. It was wonderful to be
outdoors, but she had left Georgie sleeping and she must be at his side when he awakened.

She walked back along the garden path, treading carefully so that she did not trip over broken roof tiles or get her skirt snagged on the brambles that rampaged around the house in wild profusion. Now that she could see it clearly in broad daylight, she observed that the half-timbered building was almost completely blanketed by ivy and briar roses. Crazy paving paths were half hidden by carpets of moss, while daisies and dandelions struggled for existence with tall grasses. It was difficult to imagine how the garden would have looked had any effort been made to prevent it from reverting to wilderness. Similarly with the house, Effie thought, as she entered the wainscoted hallway. The floor tiles were scuffed and dulled by many layers of dirt, and the oak staircase leading up to the first floor would have benefited from a thorough dusting and the application of beeswax polish. As Effie ascended the stairs, she trailed her hand along the banister. If she were the proud possessor of a home like this she would never allow it to fall into such disrepair and decay. She paused to straighten a portrait of a young man that hung askew and was in danger of crashing to the ground. She was
about to walk on but she paused to look again at the eyes which seemed to follow her as she moved. Despite the dirt that muted the colours so that everything looked beige or brown, she was aware that the eyes were a singular shade of blue. The brass plate was inscribed
A Portrait
of
Seymour
Westlake
,
Esquire
,
1845
. It was not surprising, she thought, that the gossips pointed their fingers at Mr Westlake, accusing him of being Toby’s father. She wondered if Toby had ever stood before the painting and seen the likeness to himself. Or perhaps she was just being fanciful and had fallen under the spell of the old house which seemed to sleep, like the beautiful princess in the fairy story, awaiting a kiss from the handsome prince to awaken her.

Startled out of her reverie by the sonorous tones of the long-case clock in the hall striking twelve, she hurried back to the Blue Room and found that Georgie was awake and staring at the patterns on the wall where the sun shone through the windows. She laid her hand on his brow and realised that his flushed cheeks owed more to the rash than to a high fever.

‘Mama,’ Georgie said, smiling. ‘Mama.’

Effie picked up the green medicine bottle and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Grandmother Tapper,’ she said out loud. ‘Thank you for my son’s life.’ She scooped Georgie up in her arms
and cuddled him. ‘My darling boy, nothing matters as long as you are safe and well.’

With Georgie still poorly but out of imminent danger, Effie spent the rest of the day keeping him amused, venturing down to the kitchen to fetch food and drink only when absolutely necessary. She could hear Seymour roaming about in his room and his bell was constantly ringing. The sound echoed throughout the house and sometimes Nellie responded to it but more often than not she allowed it to ring unheeded. Effie was beginning to feel sorry for the man who was locked up from morning until night, and sedated by large doses of laudanum when he became too much of a nuisance. No wonder he was going out of his mind. She decided to speak to Toby about it when he returned, but although she waited until late in the evening there was no sign of him, and she began to worry.