Read Online The Quietness by Alison Rattle - Free Book Online Page B

only Mary knew of my meetings with Jacob, but one day Father called me to his study and told me that on no account was I to spend time in Jacob’s company on my own. It would be entirely improper for me to behave in such a manner he said, and it was his duty as my father to prevent my reputation from being sullied. I would be committing the gravest of errors if I were to disobey him.
    But for all his harsh words and despite the fear that curdled in my stomach, I could not stop myself.
    The days slipped by, one drifting into the next. Days that were filled with Jacob. Thoughts of Jacob, dreams of Jacob and delicious stolen moments spent together. Poor Mary was torn in two. She did not want to disobey Father’s orders, but she could see that I would not be told.
    ‘Please be careful, miss,’ she pleaded. ‘You know your father has eyes everywhere.’
    Father was silent. More silent than usual. He spent the evenings in the drawing room reading his paper while Jacob and I were forced to break the quiet with snippets of polite conversation. Jacob still went most days with Father to the hospital, but on some days he returned early on his own and on other days he did not go at all. It was those times I lived for.
    Spring had come early and the walled flower garden was alive with colour: yellow buttercups, pink campions, lilac violas and white clouds of cow parsley. It was here we met, on the bench behind the carved stone archway, hidden from view. The household had come out of mourning for Aunt Isabella and I was able to wear my prettiest gowns again. On the day I wore my pale yellow silk, Jacob picked me a posy of daisies and sprinkled them in my hair. He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘My mother was very beautiful too, you know. And kind.’
    I nodded and waited, hoping he would tell me more.
    ‘She was too kind for her own good,’ he said, picking the petals off a buttercup one by one. ‘Too kind and too stubborn in her ways. She and your father fell out when I was just a baby.’ He crushed the remains of the buttercup in the palm of his hand.
    I nodded again, encouraging him to continue.
    ‘She wanted nothing more to do with him. And he wanted nothing more to do with her. I could never understand it.’ He stood and began to kick softly at the borders of cow parsley. The tiny white flowers trembled on their stems, some falling to the ground.
    ‘What happened?’ I ventured. He didn’t seem to hear me.
    ‘When my father died,’ he continued, ‘she could have asked your father for help. For money. He has all this, after all.’ Jacob spread his arms wide. ‘But she didn’t. She had too much pride.’ He pressed down on the tiny white flowers with his foot, crushing them to powder. ‘We were so poor.’ He looked at me and his face had changed. It was hard and angry. ‘And here you are,’ he said, ‘with all this! All of this that could have been shared.’
    ‘I . . . I am sorry, Jacob.’ I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt awkward and wished Mary would come looking for me.
    Then Jacob sat back down. He was smiling again. ‘Ah, Ellen!’ he sighed. ‘It is so good to breathe in this air and to see things alive and growing. You cannot know what it is like in that hospital. Darkness and death and rot.’
    I was about to tell him that I did know, that I still had nightmares about that awful day Father had taken me there, but he turned suddenly and grabbed my shoulders, fingers digging hard into my skin. Tears sprang instantly to my eyes.
    ‘It is not the life for me, Ellen. But I
will
have the life I deserve!’ He let go of me and got to his feet.
    ‘Jacob?’ I said quietly. ‘Jacob?’ But he was walking away, back to the house. ‘Jacob!’ I called after him. He did not turn round.
    As he disappeared from view I saw my tears had spilt on to my skirts and darkened the silk.

17
Queenie
    Queenie had been at Wild Street for nearly two months and already life with Mam and Da and the little ones