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‘My wife is young and strong and has had a baby before. She is used to the rigours of childbirth...unlike you, madam.’
His voice had been soft, almost gentle, but Dawn knew the remark had been intended to wound and remind her of her miscarriage. ‘I might not be a mother, but I know well enough what a person in pain looks like. Eleanor should be examined by a doctor in case the babe is coming sooner than expected—’
‘My wife needs no fussing over. She doesn’t like that sort of thing.’ His voice was slightly raised now. ‘She was up yesterday and playing with her daughter. It is to be expected that there will be occasions when she feels tired as her time nears. She was like this before Lily was born.’
Mrs Grove gave a cough...or perhaps it was a snort, Dawn thought, on glimpsing the woman’s angry profile. ‘Nevertheless I insist that the doctor comes here today, to put all our minds at rest.’ Dawn’s voice was controlled but full of grit.
‘As I have said, we shall talk later, Mrs Fenton.’ Peter turned to the cook. ‘Let me have my wife’s drink. I shall take it to her. If she’s left undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon, then I’m sure she will feel better and be able to get up at dinner time.’ With a nod for Dawn he left the kitchen with the glass of lemonade Mrs Grove had thrust at him.
For a moment Dawn could only stare at the closed door, at a loss to know what on earth was wrong with the man for him to hold such a callous attitude. And why had he banned her from seeing her stepdaughter until dinner time? She knew that was what he had done. A weight settled in her stomach as she realised she had a battle on her hands. She wouldn’t give up on getting Eleanor the help she needed and hoped to glean some information from the cook as to what had recently happened. ‘Mrs Grove...’ she said, but was halted by the woman putting a finger against her own lips. A few seconds later Dawn heard footsteps receding along the corridor.
Dawn felt a chill creep over her. So Peter had been loitering to eavesdrop and from the way Mrs Grove had reacted she guessed he had done so before. Perhaps when a conversation had been taking place with her mistress. Did the vicar spy on his wife?
Dawn had never liked him, but never before had she felt uneasy in his company, or in his house. Now she did. Having observed Mrs Grove’s caginess, Dawn knew his servant felt the same misgiving as she did about the Reverend Peter Mansfield.
‘Don’t ask me questions about the master’s business. I’ll not gossip even if I have an answer to give.’ Enid shook her greying head.
‘Well, tell me this at least. You have had children, Mrs Grove. Is this a normal malaise for a woman in her condition? My stepdaughter looks so very ill.’
‘Some women do have a hard time of it. But he’s right about one thing: she’s young and once she was healthy, too. To my mind, there’s unhappiness in this house,’ Enid whispered. ‘And that can be as harmful as plague. But now that you’re here, m’m, things will be better. I know the mistress will be taken care of and little Miss Lily, too. Mrs Mansfield must be that glad you’ve turned up at last to help her.’
Dawn winced at that hint at her tardiness. ‘I wish Eleanor had put more in her letters. I would have come directly had I known she was ill.’
‘He reads her letters...them that comes and them that goes.’ Mrs Grove gave Dawn a significant glance.
Dawn started to question the woman, but Enid shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, m’m, but I’m done with it all.’ She looked sorrowful, but ploughed on. ‘I’ll leave your dinners on the stove before I go home, but I’ll hand in me notice now you’ve arrived to take care of things.’ She agitatedly resumed rolling pastry. ‘I expect he’ll find another cook quick enough. Plenty of women in the village want part-time work.’
Dawn had listened in astonishment. ‘What has caused Eleanor’s unhappiness?’
‘He’s the trouble she’s got,’ Mrs Grove muttered. ‘And the trouble the vicar’s got is to be found out there. Maybe the recently departed are playing on his mind.’ The woman pointed towards the graveyard that lay to the east of the church. ‘This warning I will give you and you’d best heed it: don’t be venturing out after dark that way, Mrs Fenton, ’cos you don’t know what you might meet.’ With finality the woman turned her back and busied herself with cups and saucers. ‘I’ll bring a tray to your chamber when the tea’s brewed. I must get on and get this pie in the oven. He likes his dinner on the dot. Six of the clock sharp.’
Dawn felt rather angry with the woman for talking such tosh. She knew that country folk could be superstitious and believed in gremlins and ghosts. But she didn’t! And she wouldn’t be taking heed of any warning. She believed the trouble in this house was most definitely of this world rather than the other.
Dawn could cook and clean...but why should she when the vicar was perfectly able to pay for a couple of servants? She knew she couldn’t do everything herself any more than Mrs Grove could. ‘Will you at least stay on until another cook is found and I will help with other tasks?’
‘Very well... I’ll do it for the mistress. I’ll stay until she’s back up on her feet and the new babe in the nursery. She’s been good to me, has Mrs Mansfield,’ Enid Grove said. ‘God bless her.’
* * *
‘You must tell your stepmama that you are simply feeling tired, my dear, and do not need the doctor to come. Mrs Fenton is fretting about your health.’ The vicar gave his wife a smile. ‘Now that you have rested in bed all afternoon you feel much better, don’t you?’
‘I do. My headache has gone,’ Eleanor said and rearranged the cutlery in front of her.
‘But, you don’t look better...’ Dawn fell silent, having noticed her stepdaughter’s startled look. Eleanor didn’t want her husband to be gainsaid.
‘I am quite well, I assure you.’ Eleanor picked up her soup spoon.
‘We will say grace,’ her husband reminded her before making a steeple of his fingers and closing his eyes. His wife rested her spoon on the bowl and copied him. Dawn simply bowed her head, glaring at pea soup.
Eleanor was still flushed and unsteady on her feet, needing to be escorted to the table by her husband. Earlier Dawn had gone to her stepdaughter’s room despite Peter’s veiled demand that she stay away. She had tried the door, but it had been locked and when she’d softly called through the panels Lily had whimpered to be allowed to see her grandma. Eleanor had then admitted she didn’t have a key to open it up.
The knowledge that Peter had locked his wife in her room increased Dawn’s feeling that something sinister was going on. But she wasn’t frightened, as Mrs Grove appeared to be. She was angry and determined to protect Eleanor and Lily. She wasn’t afraid of what was ‘out there’ as the cook termed it. But she knew there was a real danger from men who believed they knew what was best for their womenfolk when clearly they didn’t.
The prayer at an end the vicar poured them all a glass of ruby wine as though he were the most solicitous and amiable of fellows.
Dawn noticed that Eleanor glanced her way several times with a look that seemed to silently beg her not to again raise the subject of her health. So Dawn decided she would not. She’d deal with the matter herself, with or without his assistance.
The moment the meal was over Peter excused himself saying he had to go back to the church for a meeting with the verger.
‘Do you feel well enough to come into Wivenhoe with me tomorrow, Eleanor?’ If the doctor could not be brought here, then Dawn would take her stepdaughter to his house.
‘I can’t face travelling. And Lily can be quite mischievous.’
‘I expect she is bored being cooped up. She went to bed quite early.’
‘Peter likes her to be kept to a routine. Mrs Grove settles her while we dine.’
About to tell her stepdaughter that the cook was on the point of quitting, Dawn thought better of it. She imagined Mrs Grove had already told her mistress she was unhappy...and so was Eleanor unhappy. Dawn sensed Eleanor would never admit to it, though. Peter Mansfield had warned his wife not to mention whatever secrets they had. Eleanor should be anticipating the arrival of her second child with joyousness as Dawn’s friend Emma was. But there was no joy in this house.
‘Shall we play cards?’ Dawn suggested brightly.
Eleanor shook her head. ‘I’m sorry to be such poor company, but I think I shall go and say goodnight to my daughter, then return to my room.’
‘You’re not poor company. Just being with you and Lily is a delight for me.’ Dawn wished there was more truth in that statement. She had come to Essex in high spirits, but now felt utterly deflated. But she must stay cheery for Eleanor’s sake. ‘I’d like to say goodnight to Lily, if I may.’
‘Of course... I’ll call Mrs Grove in to clear things away.’ Carefully Eleanor rose from the table, but before she reached the sideboard to ring the bell she tottered. Quickly she recovered her balance and clattered the brass implement.
‘You’re still feeling giddy?’ Dawn had risen immediately and gone to her aid.
‘I’ll be fine by morning.’
‘I very much hope you will. Your dress is very stylish,’ Dawn said, wanting to boost her stepdaughter in some way. She fondled a blue-dimity sleeve. And your hair looks very pretty. She was encouraged to think that as Eleanor had presented herself looking neat at dinner, she was feeling better. She had declined Dawn’s offer to lend a hand with buttons and curling tongs.
‘I’ll be off home when I’m done here, m’m.’ Mrs Grove had come into the room to start collecting the used crockery.
Dawn gave the woman a questioning glance.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, usual time, Mrs Mansfield,’ the cook added before departing with a loaded tray.
‘Will you retire early, Mama, or stay up after saying goodnight to Lily?’
‘I think I’ll play solitaire in the sitting room, just for a little while.’ Dawn had found the cards in a bureau drawer in that room earlier and had whiled away an hour while waiting for dinner to be served. She glanced at the window. ‘The sun has made an appearance at last.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Just before it is due to set.’ Heavy cloud had covered the heavens for most of the day, but had parted to allow a narrow strip of blue to be visible. But still it was bitterly cold. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, if it is fine, we could walk in the garden. Once I’ve unpacked my things I can give Lily her presents.’
‘She’ll like that. You are good to her and to me, Mama.’
They had been slowly walking the corridor towards the stairs, but Dawn suddenly halted and put an arm around her swaying stepdaughter. ‘Hold on to me!’
Eleanor was no lightweight now she was big with child, but Dawn managed to guide her to a chair in the sitting room. She would have preferred to get her to her bedchamber, but knew she would struggle to support her up the stairs. ‘I’ll fetch Peter,’ Dawn said determinedly. ‘Enough is enough. You are sick, my dear, and urgently need a doctor’s care. If he still refuses, I will fetch the fellow myself!’
Eleanor put out a feeble hand as though to detain her, but Dawn ignored her, dashing out into the corridor and then out of the house.
Picking up her skirts, she flew along the cinder path towards the church. It was about a quarter of a mile distant and she arrived breathless, but burst in through the heavy oaken doors, calling her stepson-in-law’s name. The place seemed deserted. Nothing stirred in the cold, eerie space and the only sound was her voice echoing back at her.
Dawn’s heart was in her mouth as she hurried outside. Usually she would be happy to avoid the dratted man; now when she needed him, he’d disappeared. She had a feeling of dread rolling in her stomach. Intuitively she knew that Eleanor was in immediate need of a doctor’s care.
‘Mrs Fenton?’
Dawn whipped around at the sound of that familiar baritone...a voice she had heard recently after a long, long silence from him. She stared almost without breathing as a tall male figure approached along the path. The pale sun behind his head was burnishing his fair hair with a silvery halo, making it impossible for her to read his expression. But she imagined her shock at seeing him was plain on her face.
Chapter Four
‘Mr Valance?’ Dawn uttered in astonishment.
‘I thought it was you, Mrs Fenton. I was just about to ride off.’ He gestured to a horse tethered close to the lychgate.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Dawn blurted out the first thing that came into her head and in her agitated state it sounded rather rude.
‘I have an estate over yonder.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the coast. ‘Croxley Grange.’ He gave her a half-smile. ‘It is quite a coincidence that we appear to be neighbours. I would have mentioned it in London, but you seemed in a rush to get away that day.’
Indeed, she did regret having left him before discovering that news. But she’d no time to dwell on it now. The spontaneous surge of excitement at seeing him so unexpectedly hadn’t lessened her anxiety over Eleanor.
‘I came to find the vicar, but he doesn’t appear to be around.’ Jack thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Unfortunately, I’m in need of the fellow’s services. An elderly servant has passed away. I wanted to speak to Mansfield about a funeral.’
‘Oh... I’m sorry...’ Although still in turmoil Dawn issued an automatic condolence. Her fear for Eleanor and her unborn child had put a throb in her temples to beat in time with the erratic thump beneath her ribs. ‘I am also searching for the vicar. He is married to my stepdaughter and she is very unwell. The doctor must be brought to her without further delay. She is with child and close to her time.’
‘Do you want me to fetch the doctor?’ Jack offered with a concerned frown. ‘Wilson is not far away; he recorded the death at the Grange just a short time ago.’
‘I would be most grateful, sir, if you would find him and bring him urgently to the vicarage.’
Jack extended a hand to her. ‘Would you like a ride home?’
‘No...thank you... I can easily walk. Please be quick, sir, I beg of you. I am very worried about Eleanor.’
Jack dipped his head, then strode to his horse, swinging up lithely into the saddle. He wheeled the stallion about and, with a raise of his hand in farewell, spurred the magnificent beast into a furious gallop. Dawn stared after the blur of horse and rider, entranced by a maelstrom of emotions. Gladness and overwhelming relief at having his help, astonishment at seeing him again were all jumbled together, but overriding it all was still her fears for her stepdaughter. With her skirts in her fists she raced back the way she had come.
* * *
‘I think you were right, Mama... I think the babe might be coming,’ was the panted greeting Dawn received when she burst into the sitting room. Her stepdaughter was bent double over her aching abdomen. ‘But something is not right.’ Eleanor raised her frightened eyes, peering at Dawn through lank strands of fair hair that had loosened to drape her forehead.
‘Hush...the doctor is on his way,’ Dawn soothed, kneeling by the side of Eleanor’s chair. She took her trembling hands, chafing them. ‘I could not find your husband, but I was fortunate enough to bump into a gentleman I know from town. Mr Valance told me he lives close by. He has ridden straight away to fetch Dr Wilson.’
‘You should have waited and asked Peter to go, Mama.’ Eleanor sounded anxious.
‘I should have done no such thing,’ Dawn said quietly. ‘The doctor’s visit is long overdue.’
‘I don’t know the name Valance,’ Eleanor gasped.
‘Never mind...it doesn’t matter,’ Dawn soothed. ‘Are you able to get upstairs, do you think? Or would you rather wait here for the doctor to examine you?’
‘I must get to my bed and lie down. Peter won’t like the doctor looking at me here. It is not seemly... He will be cross.’
‘So am I cross.’ Dawn struggled to control the volume of her voice. ‘Your husband’s negligence is unforgivable.’ She got to her feet and with an effort gently assisted a groaning Eleanor to stand up. ‘If you feel it will be too much for you to manage the stairs, then you must stay here.’ She muttered to herself, ‘And etiquette be damned.’
Eleanor made no more than a few steps towards the door before whimpering.
Dawn gently helped Eleanor reseat herself. It was a great pity that Mrs Grove had just left. The woman might be getting on in years, but she would have been another helpful pair of hands. ‘Would you like a drink? Some lemonade?’
‘No...don’t leave me...’ Eleanor gasped, tightening her clasp on Dawn’s fingers.
‘I won’t... I swear...’ To prove it Dawn gave her stepdaughter her other hand to hold as well. ‘It will all be fine...you’ll see, my dear,’ she croaked out in reassurance, but turned her head to shield the anguish in her eyes.
* * *
After what seemed like a wait of an hour but was probably less than half that time, there was the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway. Dawn sighed in utter relief. Gently easing her hands from her stepdaughter’s cold grip, she hurried to open the door, hoping it was the doctor and not the vicar returning.
‘Please, come in here, sir.’ A tubby gentleman was heading down the hall, bag in hand. She’d guessed he was Dr Wilson a moment before the fellow barked that name, doffed his hat, then carried on into the sitting room. Jack Valance had entered the house, too, but was tactfully loitering a distance away.
‘Might I be of any assistance?’ He took a few steps closer to Dawn.
She knew that they might need him. The middle-aged doctor would have no better success than would she in getting her stepdaughter safely up the stairs to her bedchamber. Yet it would be more practical and less embarrassing for Eleanor if the doctor attended to her there.
‘You have already been a great boon to us, sir, but if you would just wait a moment, there might be something else.’
‘Anything. Just name it.’
Dawn gave him a grateful smile, then quickly went back to the sitting room. Having closed the door, she turned about. She needed no spoken verdict, she could read the bad news in the doctor’s grim features.
‘She has lost the child.’ He had ushered Dawn closer to the wall to keep their conversation from his patient’s hearing.
‘But...surely it is just coming early?’ Dawn’s argument emerged in a desperate murmur.
‘I fear the baby is dead, ma’am, and has been for a while. An infection has set in and made Mrs Mansfield very ill.’
Dawn felt frozen in shock, yet far back in her mind she realised she had known that a tragedy was about to happen. And so had her stepdaughter. Swiftly Dawn blinked away the tears that had started to her eyes. Eleanor’s gaze was on her, watching for a sign of reassurance, and she would give it, false though it was. This was no time for bald truths that might make the poor girl hysterical. She forced her lips into a fiercely encouraging smile for Eleanor.
‘It would be better if she were upstairs on her bed so I can examine the lass properly and then do whatever is necessary.’
‘I agree, sir.’ Dawn gulped.
‘Is her husband not yet home? Where is the man?’ he hissed. ‘How has it come to this? His wife must have shown signs of distress for many days. Are you a relative, madam?’ The doctor rattled off his whispered questions.
‘Mrs Mansfield is my stepdaughter. I arrived from London just today on a visit. As for the vicar, I’ve looked in vain for him at the church, hoping to bring him back,’ Dawn informed him.
‘If her husband’s help isn’t to be had, Mr Valance must assist us, if he will. Is that gentleman still waiting outside?’
Her brief nod prompted the doctor to go into the hall to speak to Jack. Dawn approached Eleanor and said lightly, ‘Mr Valance will help you upstairs, my dear. It is not a task either I or the doctor can do for you, I’m afraid.’
Eleanor was past caring about etiquette; she was in too much pain to be bothered at the prospect of being manhandled by a stranger.
Jack swiftly entered the room and took Eleanor’s arm, gently and efficiently easing her to her feet. He half-carried her to the foot of the stairs, then, with a murmured warning of what he had to do, lifted her up with great care and delicacy before ascending with her cradled in his arms. Dawn followed close behind, giving directions to the bedchamber.
‘Would you fetch some hot water, m’m? As much as you can manage?’ Dr Wilson was taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.
Dawn nodded. ‘Of course... I’ll do it now.’
Once Jack had laid Eleanor on the bed, he withdrew. Dawn undressed Eleanor to her underclothes, then pulled the sheet up. Dr Wilson accompanied Dawn to the door to instruct quietly, ‘When you go below please ask Mr Valance if he would be of assistance once more and fetch home the confounded vicar. He should be here with his wife.’ He shook his head. ‘I would have Mansfield’s explanation for his inaction when it is quite obvious that this woman is gravely ill.’
‘I’ve no idea why the vicar delayed fetching you.’ Dawn could guess, though. The moment she’d started to disrobe Eleanor and seen the fading bruises on her stepdaughter’s arms, she knew. Soon Dr Wilson would also see them.
The doctor issued a grunt that mingled his sadness and anger. ‘The moment he turns up send him directly to me. I shall be here some while, I think,’ he added bleakly.
Dawn managed to give her stepdaughter a reassuring smile before she exited the room and stumbled, blinded by tears, down the stairs. She knew she mustn’t crumble; she had a job to do and she would do it. She found Jack Valance pacing up and down the hallway and he wheeled about, immediately striding towards her on hearing her footsteps.
‘How is she? Can I do more to help? Tell me if there is any small task that might be done.’
‘She is gravely ill,’ Dawn murmured through lips that quivered. ‘Thank you for your offer to help. The doctor asked if you would search for the vicar and make him come home. But there is something else you could do first, if you don’t mind.’ Dawn concentrated on practicalities to prevent herself howling. ‘Would you fetch some buckets of water in from outside?’ Having received his immediate nod she carried on quickly towards the kitchen, knowing he would follow. When there, she busied herself checking the heat of the range. She threw a log into the fire to stoke it up. But her shoulders had started to shake, betraying her silent sobs.
Jack drew her into his arms. ‘I’ll assist you with anything at all...but you mustn’t give up hope, not yet.’
He also knew, then. Dawn nodded fiercely, knuckling wetness from her eyes. She broke free of his embrace though it had felt wonderfully warm and tender.
They both worked silently, he bringing the buckets and she decanting the water into pots to heat up. When he had brought her a dozen filled pails she murmured her thanks and told him that she had enough for now and he must go quickly to find the vicar.
As she’d continued to toil at the stove he had put his hands on her shoulders, moving them in a caress of encouragement before leaving. How she had longed to lean into him for his strength and comfort. But she hadn’t turned around, even when she heard the back door click shut. She had remained dry-eyed and concentrated on her task. With a steaming jug in either hand she had made the trip upstairs half-a-dozen times, knocking, then leaving the water outside the closed door. Finally crushed by it all, Dawn had sunk to the floor and stuffed her fists to her lips to silence her own scream. She’d known Eleanor was fighting for her life now it was too late to save her child. Then when it had become quiet she’d sprung up, berating herself for her weakness. She’d stumbled again down the stairs to renew her efforts with kettle and pan.
* * *
The commotion at the back door as Mansfield finally burst in wasn’t enough to stop her furious industry. She carried on, not trusting herself to look at him. But she said stiltedly, ‘The doctor is upstairs with Eleanor. He said you should go to her immediately.’