Little Girl Lost (28 page)

There were just five of them at the ceremony. Mr Ramsey hadn't wanted a fuss, Rosamund said, and she didn't mind as it was not very long since she came out of mourning. Afterwards they went for a celebratory luncheon in a private room at a local inn; Mr Percival and Mr Ramsey had too much to drink but Mrs Percival was rather quiet, Margriet thought, and not her usual talkative self.

When they all arrived back home, Rosamund had excused herself for a moment and Mr Ramsey had sidled up to Margriet. Seizing one of her curls, he twirled it round his finger and whispered to her that he had a favour to ask. He said that he had booked a room in a hotel in York for the night as he wanted to take her mother to the races the next day.

‘What do you think?' he murmured. ‘Are you old enough to stay at home by yourself with just the servants to look after you?'

She backed away from him and declared that of course she was.

‘Oh, good,' he said. ‘Because I have another present coming for your mama, and,' he reached for a small box that he'd placed on one of the side tables, ‘this is for you.'

‘What is it?' She didn't want to take it. He needn't think that he could wheedle himself into her affections by giving her more presents.

‘Open it. Go on. Every young lady likes receiving gifts, doesn't she?'

‘I'll wait for Mama to come back,' she said, and sat down opposite Mrs Percival, who was gazing into the fire.

Presently Lydia looked up, and glancing at her brother said, ‘Just watch what you're doing, William, or you'll come a cropper.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about, Lydia.' He turned as Rosamund came back into the room, followed by Jane and Mrs Simmonds with trays of glasses and decanters.

When the servants had gone, he served wine for everyone and Mr Percival staggered to his feet and said, ‘A toast! A toast to the happy pair.' He took a slurp of wine, spilling much of it down his waistcoat. ‘A long and profitable life.'

Both men raised their glasses, and then Mr Ramsey raised his again and said, ‘And to our daughter Margriet, who looks so very charming.'

Aghast, Margriet stared at him. ‘But I'm not your daughter,' she gasped. ‘And I never will be. I'm Margriet Vandergroene. Frederik Vandergroene's daughter.' She put down the glass of lemonade she'd asked for and would have dashed out of the room, but William Ramsey seemed to have anticipated her flight and caught her arm, forestalling her, his fingertips firm on her wrist.

‘Not in flesh, I quite agree,' he said calmly. ‘But I trust, Margriet, that you will be as obedient a daughter as if you were my very own.' He smiled at her, but he had narrowed his eyes. ‘Now, my dear, open your present.'

When Margriet reluctantly opened Mr Ramsey's box it was to reveal a sparkling bracelet of glittering stones. Her mother exclaimed at its prettiness when she showed it to her, and Mrs Percival murmured, ‘How lovely,' but didn't show as much enthusiasm as might have been expected.

Margriet whispered her thanks and fortunately attention was diverted from her when Mr Ramsey turned to the window, glanced out and said triumphantly, ‘Now it's your turn, Rosamund. Here is your wedding gift arriving. Come and look.'

Everyone rushed to the window. Margriet followed more slowly and was astonished to see her mother grow pale and put her hand to her mouth.

‘But William,' she said. ‘I have never driven.'

Margriet looked out and saw by the steps a smart black and green two-horse curricle and a liveried driver.

‘I will teach you,' Mr Ramsey said. ‘Don't you love it? I've had my eye on this for some time.'

‘Very smart, dear boy,' Vincent Percival said, glancing at his wife. ‘Isn't it, Lydia?'

‘Very nice,' she murmured. ‘Is it new?'

‘Of course it's new! Would I buy second-hand for my new wife?'

Rosamund gave a nervous laugh. ‘It's very generous of you, William, but if there's a coachie, why do I have to learn to drive?'

‘Oh, he's only delivering it. We won't be keeping him; there's only room for two in any case, and now the best thing of all is that we are going off to the York races in it, so hurry and pack an overnight bag and we'll be off.'

Rosamund glanced about her as if not quite knowing what was happening. ‘Come, Margriet,' she said. ‘What will we take?'

‘Margriet isn't coming,' her husband said. ‘We have an understanding, haven't we, m'dear?' He gave Margriet a complicit glance and dumbly she nodded.

‘I'll come and help you pack, Mama,' she murmured, and led the way out of the room, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. ‘He told me that he was taking you to York tonight so that you could go to the races tomorrow, and asked me if I'd be all right on my own. He didn't say anything about buying a carriage.'

‘Will you be all right?' her mother whispered. ‘If it's only for one night? Mrs Simmonds is here, and Jane. They'll look after you.'

‘Yes, I'll be all right,' she said defiantly. ‘I don't need anyone to look after me.'

They decided what her mother would wear at the races and rang the bell for Jane to pack the valise, and then Margriet helped her mother to change into something suitable for driving to York. The seats of the curricle were set high and Rosamund didn't think she would be splashed if the road was muddy, but Margriet suggested she take a blanket in case the weather was cold on their return the next day.

‘How sensible you are, Margriet.' Her mother was quite tearful. ‘My little girl is grown up after all.'

But I'm not, she thought as she stood on the top step and watched Mr Ramsey hand her mother into the curricle. I'm not grown up at all. Mr Ramsey went to the other side of the curricle, handed an envelope to the driver, who pocketed it and hurried off, and then climbed in himself. He stood on the small platform, waved the whip in farewell and shook the reins. Her mother waved also, but nervously, Margriet thought, and she held on to the side of the vehicle as the horses moved off to the top of Parliament Street and then turned left and out of sight.

Margriet raced down the steps and up the street, her muslin skirt flying as she ran to watch the curricle's progress along the road. She couldn't see her mother beneath the hood but could make out Mr Ramsey's top hat and an arm as he flourished the whip, causing several people to scurry out of the way, until the carriage was finally lost to view.

She walked slowly back to the house. Mr and Mrs Percival were standing on the steps waiting for her.

‘My dear,' Lydia Percival said. ‘We were wondering if you might like to return home with us for tonight rather than stay alone. You are very welcome.'

Margriet shook her head. ‘No thank you, Mrs Percival,' she said politely. ‘I have several things to attend to,' which was a lie. ‘And I also have some studying to do.' This wasn't exactly the truth either, but it might be.

‘Some studying!' Lydia Percival trilled as they came inside for their coats. ‘Well, my word, what a clever girl.' She lowered her voice. ‘Just one thing, Margriet. When you are out, don't run; walk more slowly, as befits a young lady such as yourself. Your mama wouldn't have been pleased to see you race along the street as you did just now. It isn't becoming. And take care if you are out alone not to speak to anyone. Be circumspect at all times.'

Margriet bobbed her knee. ‘I will, Mrs Percival. Thank you so much for coming today.'

Mrs Percival's eyebrows shot up at her effective dismissal. Margriet's hand remained firmly on the door as she waited for them to leave, and Mr Percival touched his hat and ushered his wife out.

‘Oh, please be careful,' Rosamund begged, one hand on her hat and the other clutching the blanket. ‘Please don't drive so fast.'

William Ramsey plonked himself beside her and tightened up on the reins. ‘Don't be a spoilsport, Rosamund. What fun this is. I've longed for a smart curricle like this for such a long time. They're so very sporty. Built for speed.'

Rosamund glanced at him. She'd thought he bought it for her, though actually she would have preferred a dog cart for getting about; it would have been more convenient. ‘Where shall we stable the horses?' she asked.

‘Oh, erm, at my place to begin with, and then we'll find stabling in Hull until we decide where we're going to live.'

‘But – you said we'd stay in Parliament Street. It's a nice house, very convenient—'

‘Yes, yes,' he cut in brusquely. ‘Don't let's worry about that now.' He turned to her and smiled. ‘Let's just enjoy the next few days. We'll dine in the hotel tonight; I've invited a few friends over, by the way. The Knavesmire races tomorrow and then we'll see what comes next.'

‘I don't want to leave Margriet too long on her own,' Rosamund told him.

‘She'll be fine. She's a very sensible girl, and besides, this is our honeymoon, Rosamund. Don't let's spoil it by thinking of Margriet.' He leaned towards her and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘We're going to think about us!'

And that was something she was afraid of. She had intended telling him that she didn't want any more children, that childbirth terrified her, but she hadn't. Neither could she tell him that the whole bedroom business was abhorrent to her.

Her entire body ached by the time they reached York. He had, it was true, tried to avoid the many deep ruts and wheel tracks on the road, but that meant swerving and she'd had to hold tight as he didn't slow down but let the horses keep up their breakneck speed.

‘Almost there,' he said, as they rumbled beneath the archways of the walls of York. ‘Have you been here before?'

She confessed that she hadn't, and he told her that it was only a small market town and the only thing to recommend it in his opinion were the races held on the Knavesmire just outside the town. ‘There are lots of Irish immigrants here now,' he said. ‘They came to escape the potato famine and there'll be work for them now that the railway has come. Things should look up.' He grew thoughtful. ‘Maybe we should invest in the railways, Rosamund; there'll be money to be made.'

He drove more slowly through the narrow streets, and as Rosamund looked about her she saw the overhanging top storeys of buildings almost touching each other and blocking out any light from the darkening sky. She wrinkled her nose at the stench coming from some of the unmade muddy roads.

‘This is it,' he said at last, reining in beside the timbered frontage of a very old building. ‘Here, take the ribbons for a minute whilst I shout for the lad.'

Gingerly, Rosamund took the reins. She hoped that nothing would startle the horses and make them bolt, but they seemed docile enough; their coats were sweaty and she thought that they had been driven too hard.

William came out again with the landlord and she was helped down. ‘This is my wife, Isaac. We were married today. Say how-de-do to her.'

The landlord turned to look at her. He drew in a breath and his mouth formed into an O. He glanced at William and then he grinned, showing only half a mouthful of teeth. Ushering her inside, he put her valise down on a not very clean wooden floor and gave her a bow. ‘Charmed to meet you, dear lady,' he fawned. ‘Delighted to know that someone has been brave enough to take on my good friend Jack.'

‘Jack?'

‘William Jackson Ramsey,' William said. ‘Isaac has always called me Jack. Have you saved us your best room, Isaac, as I asked?'

Rosamund looked about her. This wasn't at all what she had expected. They were in the bar area; casks and barrels lined the walls, and long wooden tables were already taken by groups of men who seemed to be taking a great interest in her. ‘Is there another dining room?' she asked. ‘You said you'd booked supper.'

‘And so I have.' William took her arm. ‘Lead on, landlord, and take us to our accommodation.'

They were led up a set of very narrow stairs to a small landing and then up another even narrower set to the top floor, where Isaac opened a door to a long room. To her relief, it contained a large bed and a wash stand with clean towels, a wardrobe and an easy chair.

‘Thank you,' she said in some relief. ‘This will do very well.'

‘Our best, m'lady,' he said. ‘Nothing but the best for our Jack and his lady wife.'

‘Draw me a tankard of your best ale, Isaac,' William said, ‘and I'll be down to quaff it in two minutes. I've a thirst on me from the drive.' He grinned as he spoke. ‘And I'll need several more before the night is over.'

‘And for you, ma'am?'

‘A pot of tea up here, if you will,' Rosamund said, ‘and a slice of bread and butter.'

William took hold of both her hands when the landlord had gone down, and opened her arms wide as if to look at her. ‘Well,' he said, ‘here we are.'

‘Yes, indeed,' she said nervously. ‘It was a tiring journey. I shall be pleased to have a rest before supper.'

‘And so you shall.' He indicated the bed. ‘A very comfy mattress. And there's no need to change for dinner – we don't dress up here.'

‘But you said you'd invited guests!'

‘So I have, but you don't need to worry about them. There's no one to hold a candle to you.'

He blew her a kiss and left her, and she took off her boots and jacket, unfastened her waistband and climbed on to the bed, where she lay back and took a deep breath. Why was it, she wondered, that she felt as though she had made the biggest mistake of her life?

William tapped on the door just as Rosamund was drifting off to sleep, and told her that their guests had arrived. ‘We're eating at seven, so don't be long,' he said. ‘I'll wait downstairs. Isaac will show you where we are.'

She rinsed her face and hands and straightened her clothes and hair. Searching in her valise, she found a lace cap and placed it on her head. ‘That will have to do,' she breathed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. ‘How I hate to be rushed.'