Emily (10 page)

Philip put down the book he was studying and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. He yawned and stretched and got to his feet. Mrs Purnell had promised to send the promissory note that afternoon but hadn’t said what time. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long as he had business of his own to attend to. He walked to the window and looked out and saw the young maid, whom Mrs Purnell had described as a treasure, turn the corner and look up at the houses as if looking for a number.

He also saw two men turn the corner behind her, and in an instant he knew from their demeanour and dress that they had no business to conduct in this respectable terrace, and as he took breath, he saw their assault on the maid. He flung himself down the stairs and out of the door, shouting, ‘Stop thief,’ as he ran along the terrace. By the time he reached the girl he realized that the men would have vanished beyond the main street, disappearing into the mêlée of dock workers and seamen around the dock area.

‘Are you hurt?’ He bent down towards her. ‘It’s Emily, isn’t it?’

Emily sat up, dazed. ‘Mr Linton! The packet’s gone! Those men –! What will Mrs Purnell say? Oh sir, I’m so sorry!’

He looked at the pale oval face and the blue eyes fringed by dark lashes and mused that she had the face of an angel. He helped her to her feet. ‘Come
inside for a moment, I’ll get my landlady to make you a cup of tea. You’re hurt,’ he added, as she winced.

‘I’ve wrenched my shoulder, I think,’ and she held up her hands too and he saw her bleeding fingers and palms, which she had grazed as she fell.

He escorted her into the house and called for his landlady. He couldn’t take Emily up to his room, that was one rule which couldn’t be broken. But he knew that Mrs Summers wouldn’t mind if he took her into her own sitting room. ‘Mrs Summers, there has been an accident! Have you hot water and bandages?’

‘You poor lamb!’ Mrs Summers was all sympathy when she saw Emily’s dishevelled state and heard what had happened, and she rushed to put the kettle on the fire.

Philip sat next to Emily and poured the hot water into a bowl and then cooled it, testing with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot, then he gently bathed her hands. He smiled at her and said, ‘This is good practice for me, I have just been reading how to treat injuries. Don’t worry,’ he assured, as he saw a trickle of tears on her cheek, ‘those thieves won’t be able to use what was in the envelope. It would have been in my name.’

There was relief on her face, though she flinched as the water touched the wounds on her hands. ‘I’m glad it wasn’t money, sir. Mrs Purnell said to be particularly careful, and the envelope felt very thick.’

‘Oh!’ He groaned and closed his eyes in exasperation. The silly woman had never sent cash!
‘It can’t be helped,’ he said lightly. ‘It might have been money, but it seems I wasn’t meant to have it.’

‘I’m so sorry, sir. Could I – could I pay you back out of my wages? But it won’t be until the end of the year.’

‘No, Emily, you can’t.’ How long it would take her! ‘And you don’t have to keep calling me sir.’

‘Begging your pardon, sir.’ Her cheeks suddenly flushed. ‘But I’m only a servant girl.’

‘And I am only a sailor,’ he said, hoping he hadn’t embarrassed her. ‘So we are equal. My name is Philip Linton.’

‘Yes, I know, Mr Linton,’ she said solemnly. ‘I do remember it from this morning.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course you do!’ He felt suddenly foolish. The servants at his home had been with them for years and everyone had their place, but they were used to his informal manner.

I’m not used to dealing with young women, he thought, apart from Anna and Louise. But, servant or not, she was incredibly lovely, softly spoken with a hint of country and such beautiful silky hair. But young, he pondered, and probably very vulnerable. ‘I’ll walk you back to Mrs Purnell’s and explain what has happened,’ he insisted, wrapping a bandage around her hand, and thought that if he had called for the note himself then this would not have happened. ‘I don’t want you to get into trouble, it wasn’t your fault. I saw exactly what happened.’

She demurred, saying that there was no need and that Mrs Purnell would be out until evening, but he insisted anyway and put on his jacket and escorted
her along the terrace and into Savile Street.

‘Do you know the area?’ he asked. ‘You don’t sound like a Hull person.’

‘I’m not, sir – Mr Linton. I’m from Holderness. It’s a country district, east of Hull,’ she explained. ‘I’ve lived by the Humber for most of my life and then I went to work for Mr Francis at Elmswell Manor.’

‘I know of Holderness, a very isolated place, I believe. And so you decided to come and savour the delights of the town, did you?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t really decide, it was decided for me.’ She paused, thinking back to when she was sent to Granny Edwards as a child and of when Mr Francis suggested she might work for him, and yet again when she was sent to Mrs Purnell’s. ‘I don’t think I have ever made a decision for myself, things just seem to happen.’

He nodded. ‘Sometimes they do. We are not always in charge of our own fate. Would you like to see the ships?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Look, we’re practically there.’

She hesitated. Would it be right, walking along with a young gentleman? Suppose Mrs Purnell saw her? ‘I – er, I don’t know,’ she stammered.

‘It’s really only a detour,’ he persuaded, wanting her company a little longer. ‘A sort of long way round to where we are going anyway.’

Well, she thought, I was going to explore a little. Perhaps it might be all right. ‘Yes please,’ she said shyly. ‘I would like that very much.’

They walked slowly around the perimeter of the dock and Philip pointed out the types of ships, the
schooners with their sharply pointed bows, the specially strengthened whaling ships, the coal cutters and barges and he pointed out especially the oldest ship in the dock, the
Truelove
, the three-masted barque which had been captured during the American War of Independence and which was still plying the Arctic waters in search of the whale.

She noted that Philip Linton was greeted by cadets of Trinity House, smart in white duck trousers and gleaming brass buttons on their navy monkey jackets. She felt their admiring eyes upon her and some particularly paused and touched their hats, but Philip merely returned their greeting and walked on, not stopping to converse. They continued the circuit of the dock and came to the top of Whitefriargate.

‘Thank you very much, Mr Linton,’ she said. ‘You have been very kind. There is no need for you to trouble yourself further. It’s only a little way now.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘But it is no trouble. No trouble at all,’ and he insisted on continuing until they came to Mrs Purnell’s house, where they mounted the steps and rang the front-door bell.

Mrs Anderson answered the door and her eyes grew wide when she saw Emily and Mr Linton standing there and Emily’s hands in bandages. ‘My compliments to Mrs Purnell,’ Philip said, ‘I’m afraid Emily has met with an accident. She was set upon by two ruffians,’ he elaborated. ‘I saw it happen from my window. She was very brave,’ he added and deliberated that indeed she had been;
had the incident happened to either of his two sisters there would undoubtedly have been screaming and hysterics. ‘I think she needs to rest for a while,’ he said, keeping a poker face. ‘She has had quite a shock.’

‘Yes, sir. Very well, she can go to her room.’

‘Thank you very much, Mr Linton,’ Emily turned to him and saw the mischief glinting in his eyes. ‘I’ll explain to Mrs Purnell what happened.’

‘Do,’ he said, ‘and tell her I will confirm it if she desires.’

She managed to escape the questioning of Cook, Dolly and Susan by pleading a headache and a request to lie down, which Mrs Anderson could hardly refuse as Mr Linton had suggested it also. ‘It’s as well that Mrs Purnell isn’t back yet,’ she grumbled. ‘There’d be no lying down, headache or not, and don’t be getting ideas above your station,’ she cautioned, as Emily climbed the stairs. ‘I saw the look in his eye and that can only mean trouble for a lass like you.’

Emily took off her cloak and bonnet and lay down on her bed. How kind Mr Linton had been, he had treated her so well, as if she was his equal. And he was handsome, she smiled to herself, Mrs Purnell was quite right. His dark eyes were merry and his mouth – she checked herself. I mustn’t think of such things. It’s not right. He’s a young gentleman and I’m just a servant girl. He was only being kind, Emily. Don’t be so foolish.

That she was foolish, Mrs Purnell was convinced. ‘You should have kept it hidden beneath your cloak,’ she grumbled later in the day when Emily
confronted her with the news of the lost packet. ‘I trusted you.’

Emily paled. Mrs Purnell surely didn’t think she lost it on purpose, that she had been careless. ‘I asked Mr Linton if I could pay it back out of my wages, Mrs Purnell, but he said not.’

Mrs Purnell gave a great shout of derision. ‘Pay it back! Do you know how much was in there?’

Emily shook her head. ‘No, ma’am.’ How could she have known when Mrs Purnell hadn’t told her.

‘Fifty guineas! That’s how much! How long do you think it would take you?’ Mrs Purnell stared at her with a hostile expression, then seemed to relent. ‘Go along. I suppose it wasn’t your fault. I’ll see Mr Linton about it. And send Mrs Anderson to me,’ she called after her. ‘I’ve heard there’s cholera in the town so I’ve decided we shall go to Scarborough for the summer.’

One of Mrs Purnell’s friends had another friend who knew an eminent doctor who had advised, in confidence, that there had been a case of cholera at the workhouse, which backed up against the houses in Parliament Street. Mrs Purnell had turned pale at the disclosure, she couldn’t abide the thought of disease, and the news that cholera was practically at her door was enough for her to make an instant decision. Her friend, Mrs Marshall, was taking a house in Scarborough and invited her to share it. ‘We can share a cook,’ she said. ‘Mine is excellent, and we’ll take our own maids.’

Emily and Dolly were to go with her, and Cook and Mrs Anderson were to stay behind in Hull. ‘I wish I could go,’ Susan grumbled. ‘There’ll be nowt to do here.’

‘There’ll be plenty to do, my girl.’ Mrs Anderson overheard her. ‘We shall spring-clean the house from top to bottom whilst ’mistress is away. I’ll be sure that if cholera strikes here it won’t be because of any dirt in this house!’

‘I heard say it’s ’cos of dirty water.’ Cook roused herself from her chair by the cooking range. ‘But I
don’t believe that. ’Water looks clean enough to me.’

‘Mrs Purnell and Mrs Marshall are going to travel by train.’ Dolly butted in. ‘I heard them talking when I took ’tea in. But you and me, Emily, are going by coach with ’luggage.’

‘By train! I’ve never seen a train!’ Emily was impressed. ‘Oh, I wish it was us going on it, Dolly.’

‘Dirty, noisy things,’ Mrs Anderson snorted. ‘They’ll not last, mark my words. They’re a novelty, that’s all.’

Though she might have wished for the adventure of a train journey, as Emily stepped into the hired coach which was taking them on the long journey to Scarborough, she felt a thrill of excitement to be travelling in a proper coach, like a proper lady, even though she and Dolly were hemmed in by boxes and cases full of items which Mrs Purnell had deemed were absolutely essential for her summer stay at the spa resort.

‘It can be very breezy at Scarborough,’ she’d advised, so Emily packed her own warm shawl and an extra winter shift. ‘It can also be very warm.’ So Emily also packed lightweight cotton blouses, and for Mrs Purnell she packed two dozen dresses, some grand for the formal parties she would attend, and some simple, of plain brocade or satin, with fewer frills and ribbons, which would be worn for card parties or afternoon tea. She packed two warm coats and one thinner one, as well as a cloak with a hood and numerous hats.

The coach with Emily and Dolly in it set off two days before Mrs Purnell’s departure by train, in
order that they could unpack and iron and prepare for their mistress’s arrival. Mrs Marshall’s servants were to do the same, arriving at around the same time.

‘You’ll like Ginny, Mrs Marshall’s maid,’ Dolly chatted as they rattled and bumped out of the streets of Hull towards the coast road. Dolly had been to Scarborough before and was very excited to be going again. ‘She knows all that’s going on with ’grand folk as well as servants, who’s seeing who and who’s getting married and all that.’

Emily barely listened to Dolly’s chatter as they drove across the North Bridge and out along a different road from the one she had driven down with the carrier when she had first come to Hull. Then she had come along the Hedon turnpike, which ran alongside the river; now she was travelling along the Holderness road, which would eventually lead them to Bridlington, another coastal town. Her heart warmed as they left behind the town of Hull and adjoining hamlets and travelled through undulating countryside so reminiscent of her former home, and yet she was saddened as she thought of the childhood she had left far behind.

After travelling for about an hour, they came to a small village and passed a large, handsome building of red-brown brick, with a gabled front porch. ‘That’s a workhouse for ’poor,’ Dolly said idly. ‘Poor beggars. Fancy being stuck out here with nowt to do.’

Emily sat forward and put her nose to the window. ‘Where are we? Where are we?’ Her
question was urgent for the countryside seemed familiar. Dolly shrugged. ‘Ask coachie,’ she suggested.

Emily pushed down the window and leaned out to call up to the box. The driver had slowed down as he passed through the village and so heard her as she shouted to him.

‘Skirlaw,’ he called back. ‘Yon’s Skirlaw’s workhouse, built specially for poor folk.’ He grinned at her. ‘Want me to drop thee off?’

She managed a smile, but she gazed back at the building with a sense of misery swamping her. Could this be where her mother and brother had spent their days? She felt it most likely, for she was sure that this was the coach road she and Sam had crossed over, towards the narrow lanes and byroads on their journey towards the Humber and Granny Edwards’s cottage. I might have been at the workhouse too, she pondered, if Ma hadn’t sent me off with Sam; and for the first time ever she suddenly realized that her mother, by sending her away, had been saving her from a life of poverty and degradation.