The River Folk (20 page)

The dishes on the tray she was carrying rattled together as her hands shook. Mary Ann bit her lip and tried to steady her leaping heart, and for the rest of the day her lack of concentration earned her a sharp reprimand from Mrs Goodrick, which brought a satisfied smirk to Clara’s face.

It was late when Nellie Goodrick allowed her to leave the kitchen and, having gone to her room first, Mary Ann waited until she thought the way was clear for her to creep down to Randolph’s den.

The master, Bertram Marsh, was in his study, locked away with his cigars and a bottle of port. Mrs Marsh had retired to her bedroom. She wasn’t sure where Edwina was, but as she hadn’t seen her since dinner, Mary Ann hoped she would not run into her as she tiptoed through the house towards the east wing. Nervously, she tapped on the door and heard him bid her enter.

He was sitting in the deep armchair and when he turned his head and saw her standing in the doorway, he rose at once and came towards her.

Closing the door softly, he drew her towards the fire. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘I couldn’t get away before, sir,’ she said breathlessly.

‘Oh Mary Ann, please don’t call me “sir”. Not when we’re alone.’ He pulled a face. ‘Of course we must keep up the pretence outside this room. No one must know. You do understand that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said, though her tone was hesitant with disappointment. She wanted to tell everyone. She wanted to wipe away Clara Dobson’s smug expression and see the look of disapproval on the cook’s face that she knew would be there. But most of all, she wanted to see Dan’s face when she told him about Mr Randolph.

Randolph put his arms around her and drew her into his embrace, resting his cheek against her hair. ‘Oh Mary Ann, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you. Everywhere I went, I kept seeing your sweet little face, those dark, magnificent eyes and those pretty little dimples in your cheeks when you smile.’

He bent his head then and lifted her chin with his finger so that she was looking up into his face. Then he began to kiss her and the room reeled around her and she was borne along on a tidal wave of a new and exciting emotion.

Gently, he pressed her down on to the thick rug in front of the warm fire. He turned down the gaslights so that the only illumination in the room came from the flickering firelight. Removing his jacket, he lay down beside her. Propping his head on one hand, he let his gaze roam all over her, until she felt disconcerted and embarrassed by his scrutiny. With his right hand he stroked the hair from her face and caressed her cheek, then he allowed his hand to stray to her bosom where, deftly, he unbuttoned the topmost three buttons of her blouse, with her hardly being aware of what he was doing. Then his hand travelled down to her waist and thence to her groin where it rested.

He bent over and as his lips pecked gently at her mouth, he murmured endearments, such words of love and longing that Mary Ann had never heard before.

‘You adorable little creature. Don’t be afraid, my sweet Mary Ann. I won’t hurt you. I promise I won’t hurt you . . .’

It was two o’clock in the morning before Mary Ann stumbled up the back stairs to her room. She was sore and bleeding, for despite his promise, it had hurt when he had entered her, for she was a virgin. Despite the traumas of her early life that had left her with a worldly knowledge, she was nevertheless still ignorant and naïve in the desires of men and women carried away by tumultuous passion.

She was shaking now with a mixture of fear and yet exhilaration too. She was loved and desired and by such a man as Randolph Marsh.

‘Let’s keep this to ourselves, my darling, for now. I want you just for myself. But one day the whole world will know how much I love you and want you.’

At his words, her heart sang. He didn’t mean to keep their love hidden like some grubby little secret. He really loved her and he wanted to parade his love for everyone to see. Sleep was impossible. In the cold, dark attic room Mary Ann lay in her narrow bed a completely different person to the girl who had lain there only the previous night. Now she was a woman. Her body had responded to his like a woman’s and the next time there would be none of the pain. Randolph had told her so.

‘Next time,’ he had said, as they had lain together in the aftermath of his violent lovemaking, ‘it will be just as wonderful for you. I promise.’

It was their secret – a wonderful, exciting, daring secret – and Mary Ann hugged the knowledge to herself. She would tell no one. Not even Bessie. For somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, buried deliberately deep, Mary Ann knew that Bessie would be shocked and angry at what she had done this night.

‘You’re looking a bit peaky, love. Are you all right?’

Mary Ann was startled and her heart began to thump at Bessie’s question. She knew the cause, but how was she to avoid telling the truth? Bessie was far too sharp not to know a lie when it was being told to her. So Mary Ann decided that the truth, but not the whole truth, was the best policy.

‘I’ve not been sleeping very well. I’m tired.’ She did not, however, add that the reason she was missing her sleep was because she spent the late hours of most nights in Randolph’s arms.

‘Are they working you too hard?’ Bessie persisted. ‘Is this teaching thing, as well as all the work you have to do at The Hall, too much for you? It’d be just like Nellie Goodrick to work you all the harder just because you’re Miss Edwina’s favourite.’

And Mr Randolph’s favourite, Mary Ann was thinking, but she shook her head and said, ‘No, no. I love doing that.’

She was silent now, her eyes downcast. It was not only the lack of sleep, but the fear too. Mary Ann was not so ignorant – Bessie in her matter-of-fact way had seen to that – that she did not know the risk she was taking. Any day, she might become pregnant. What would happen then? Would Randolph stand by her as he had promised?

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he had whispered. ‘I’ll always take care of you.’

But would he marry her? The words had never been spoken. He had never said as much, but he had promised not to hurt her and, always, to look after her. So, didn’t that amount to the same thing? Didn’t that mean that one day she would be his wife?

‘I adore you,’ he told her constantly. ‘I’ve never known anyone like you before. I’ve been waiting the whole of my life for someone like you.’

Starved of love for most of her young life, Mary Ann’s hungry soul fed on his words. Even in the warmth of Bessie’s kitchen, the memories made her shiver with desire for him, the feel of him, the smell of him and the sound of his whispered words.

‘Are you catching a chill, love?’ Bessie persisted in her concern.

Mary Ann forced a smile on to her mouth. ‘Me? Ill? I’ve never been ill in me life, Auntie Bessie.’ She put her head on one side as she deliberated. She must act as normally as possible or this wise, perceptive woman might start to probe a little too deeply.

So, as she always had done when she visited Waterman’s Yard, Mary Ann asked, ‘Where’s Dan?’

Dan walked her back to The Hall that night and insisted on seeing her right to the door the servants used. Mary Ann’s heart was skipping wildly, afraid that Randolph might be waiting for her in the shadows. But no, she reasoned inwardly. Randolph would be waiting in his room, their little love nest, for her to come to him.

‘Are you really happy at The Hall, Mary Ann?’ Dan asked her as they walked along. He reached out and took hold of her hand in the darkness and put it through his arm so that they walked closely together. ‘We want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you?’

Only a short time ago, Mary Ann would have been ecstatic at his action. She would have read far more into his affectionate gesture than perhaps he meant. Now, knowing that he was once more seeing Susan, she realized it was no more than a brotherly protectiveness.

Added to that, she now knew so much more about desire and she had the love of a man of position in the community, a man of standing. Oh, if she were to become Mrs Randolph Marsh and live at The Hall as its future mistress . . .

‘Of course I’m happy there. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I just wondered, that’s all. You’ve often said that Mrs Goodrick is very severe with you, and that you and Clara don’t get on.’

‘Huh,’ Mary Ann expressed derision. ‘Who are they, anyway? I don’t care about them.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Dan said reasonably. ‘But they could make your life very difficult.’

In the darkness, Mary Ann smiled to herself, hugging her delicious secret. She couldn’t wait to see the look on the faces of the cook and that uppity housemaid when Randolph made the announcement that they were to be married.

‘Are you going to marry Susan?’

‘Oh, well now,’ Dan sounded embarrassed. ‘It’s early days yet. Her father has only recently given permission for us to see each other again.’

‘Permission? What on earth do you need his permission for?’

‘Susan’s not twenty-one yet. And besides, she wouldn’t want to go against her father. Nor would I,’ he added wryly. ‘Don’t forget, he’s my employer. Not only that, if he were to sack me, he’s got a lot of influence amongst the river folk. I’d be hard pressed to find another job round here.’

Her clear laugh rang out in the night air. Now that her sights were no longer set on Dan, she could joke about such things. ‘Then you should marry me,’ she said, with teasing flippancy. ‘I don’t have any parents to object.’

Dan did not answer and for a moment both of them were silenced by bitter memories flooding back. She felt him squeeze her hand closer to his side in the gesture of comfort.

As they rounded the corner and the dark shape of The Hall loomed before them, Dan asked, ‘When shall we see you again? Next Sunday?’

‘Unless Miss Edwina and me call on our way home from school in the week. We do that sometimes.’

‘Are you enjoying that? The teaching, I mean?’

Mary Ann’s reply was swift and genuine. ‘Yes. I’m quite surprised how much I like the children. I never had much to do with other kids, being an only one and not going to school an awful lot.’

Again, the reference to her past life made Dan bring the conversation round to looking forwards, not backwards. ‘Should you like to be a teacher?’

Her answer this time did not come so quickly. She had other plans now, plans that meant she would be a lady of leisure with no need to earn her own living or have any occupation.

‘I wouldn’t mind teaching embroidery, but to be a proper teacher, well, I don’t think I could. I mean, I haven’t been to school enough myself and there’d be a lot of examinations to take.’

‘Would there be so many if you were just to teach embroidery?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Miss Edwina says that a lot of those would be practical exams and she thinks that maybe I could scrape through the written ones.’ She was playing a part now, with no real intention of ever taking such examinations. She wouldn’t need to as Mrs Randolph Marsh.

‘Here we are then, safely to the door. You’re not late are you? You won’t get into trouble with Mrs Goodrick?’

‘No, no. I’m in good time.’ But it was not Mrs Goodrick she was thinking of. She was in good time to go up to her room and then to slip down the stairs again to see Randolph.

The windows of his room were just across the lawn between the two wings of the house and Mary Ann could not resist glancing across towards the soft lighting shining beyond the leaded panes. He was there. He was waiting for her. In fact, she fancied she saw the outline of his shape standing at the window.

With a spark of devilment, she stood on tiptoe and kissed Dan’s cheek. ‘I’ll see you Sunday, if not before. Thank you for seeing me home, Dan. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Mary Ann. God bless.’ To her surprise, he reached out and took her by the shoulders. Then he bent his head and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

He released her so quickly that she was caught off balance and put out her hand to steady herself against the wall. She gave a small gasp of surprise, but he had turned away and before she could utter a word he had disappeared into the darkness.

Half an hour later, Mary Ann was tapping softly on the door of Randolph’s room. She put her hand on the knob in readiness for his soft, ‘Come in.’

Suddenly the door was flung open, wrenched from her grasp and she found herself being pulled roughly into the room, the door being slammed behind her. Now he was gripping her shoulder so strongly that his fingers dug into her flesh.

‘Who was that with you? I saw you. I saw you kissing him. I’ll kill him. Tell me . . .’ He shook her. ‘Who was it?’

Mary Ann gave a nervous laugh and tried to make light of it. She was afraid and yet a feeling of exhilaration flooded through her. He must really love her to get so jealous.

‘It was only Dan.’

‘Dan who?’ he shot back.

‘Dan Ruddick. He walked me home, that’s all. One of them always does.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked harshly. ‘One of them?’

‘One of the Ruddicks. I lived with them before I came here. Didn’t you know?’

His grip began to slacken a little, but a new fear was creeping through Mary Ann’s veins now. Did he not know who she was? Did he not know her background or her terrible past?

He was calmer, but his tone was still sharp as he asked, ‘Why did you live with them? Are they your family?’

‘Sort of. They took me in after my parents . . .’ She hesitated only momentarily before adding, ‘Died.’

‘The Ruddicks?’ he said slowly and thoughtfully. ‘They live in Waterman’s Yard, don’t they?’

Quietly, Mary Ann said, ‘Yes.’

‘And your surname is?’

Almost inaudibly, she said, ‘Clark.’

‘Mary Ann Clark.’ He said the name as if realization had just come to him.

She looked up at him, desperately afraid now that she was going to see his face twisted with anger and revulsion, but it was expressionless as he stared down at her for what, to Mary Ann, holding her breath, seemed an interminable age.

Then slowly, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. ‘You poor little thing. I never realized who you were. What a dreadful thing to happen to anyone. And to someone as sweet and lovely as you.’