Her Mother's Secret

by Catherine King

Genres: Family Life; Historical Fiction; Sagas

Synopsis

Lettie Hargreaves is young, pretty, and she wants more than her simple, uncomplicated life with her grandmother can provide. Lettie longs for excitement and love and she's determined to make something of herself.

Ivy knows that Lettie can never find out the real reason why Lettie's mother left so she has done her best to shield her from the truth over the years. So when Lettie suggests going into service for the ailing Lady Laughton, Ivy knows that she must do something to stop it.

Feeling stifled and confused, Lettie chooses a different path that offers her the chance at love and of the life she so craves. But she is still the same determined young woman and her ambition may do more harm than good, as she is entirely unaware of the secrets her actions will uncover.

Release date: July 31, 2014

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 432

Sample

‘Do I look beautiful, Father?’ Ruth stood in the middle of the butler’s pantry and twirled around, showing off her fashionable bustle.

Seth Hargreaves leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. ‘You look more of a lady than Her Ladyship.’

‘Yes I do, don’t I?’ It was dark outside and Ruth examined her image in the glass of the window. ‘Her Ladyship is an old frump, though, so that’s not difficult. Do you think His Lordship’s friends will like me?’

‘They won’t be able to take their eyes off you.’

Ruth felt a thrill of excitement run down her spine. Lord Laughton was young and handsome and clearly rich enough to buy Waterley Hall, complete with its resident servants and surrounding farms, without worrying about the costs of renovations. His friends in the Riding came from wealthy families who lived in grand houses. Ruth’s father had been butler to the old family at Waterley Hall, but that family had simply died out, and he was already a favourite of the new master.

‘Won’t Her Ladyship mind me being there?’ Ruth asked.

‘You leave all that to me. She’s gone to the shipyards for a few days. It’s up to you to assist His Lordship entertain his guests. I shall be serving dinner to keep a watch on you.’

‘Oh, Father, I’m so excited! Who else will be there?’

‘His Lordship’s London friends have already arrived with their lady escorts. One or two have brought their sisters. They will be the unattached ones, Ruth, but make sure you’re nice to everybody. They’re all young folk like His Lordship.’

‘Will they know that I’m your daughter?’

‘No, why should they? You’ll be presented as Miss Ruth. The guests will think you’re a relation. If anybody wants to know, say you’re a family friend.’

‘Oh! Am I a friend of Lord Laughton?’

‘His Lordship has asked for you and I’m honoured that he did. But don’t let me down; I have to keep in his favour if I want the house steward position.’

Ruth was indignant. ‘I do know how to behave like a lady,’ she said.

She had grown up with the previous family in residence – long-established aristocrats with a centuries-old family tree that had dwindled to nothing over the years. Nonetheless, Ruth had decided at a very early age that she wanted to be one of them, and her father had too.

‘Well, His Lordship is still seen as new money so just remember everything you’ve learned at that ladies’ college of yours. You can be a real lady if you play your cards right and this is your chance.’

‘Yes, Father.’

The door opened wide and Ivy Hargreaves walked in, her arms full of clean linen. She was much younger than her husband, who had been the butler at Waterley Hall when she had arrived as head parlourmaid over twenty years ago. Ivy was a small energetic woman. She read her bible, prayed every night and walked several miles to the nearest Methodist chapel on Sundays. The previous housekeeper then had been old, arthritic and, frankly, quite dotty. From the day she arrived at Waterley Hall, Ivy had done most of her work, and done it well.

‘You look very nice, my dear,’ Ivy said, ‘but I still don’t think this is a sensible idea. Not when Her Ladyship is away.’

‘Oh, Mother, don’t spoil everything now,’ Ruth moaned.

‘It’s a good opportunity for the girl, Ivy,’ her father argued. ‘There’s no point in spending all that money on a fancy ladies’ college if she doesn’t mix with real gentry.’

‘I’m not disagreeing with that. I just think, with Ruth being only seventeen, Her Ladyship should be present.’

‘If I were the daughter of the house I’d be a debutante, Mother,’ Ruth protested, ‘and attending dinners and balls every night.’

‘Seth,’ Ivy appealed to her husband, ‘His Lordship is known to have an eye for the ladies.’

‘I’ll be with her all the time. And what if he does flirt with my Ruth? It won’t do me any harm at all when it comes to the steward’s position.’

‘Besides, Mother,’ Ruth added, ‘If I’m to marry well, it isn’t enough for me to look beautiful. I have to know the right people, too.’

‘Well, just remember, dear,’ her mother replied, ‘if you’re not happy with anything, then excuse yourself and come down to me. I’ll be in my sitting room all evening.’

‘You don’t have to stay, Ivy. You go back to the cottage and I’ll bring Ruth home with me.’

‘But if she waits for you she will be very late.’

‘She doesn’t want to miss any of the fun, do you, Ruth?’ her father responded.

‘No, I don’t. I can talk to the ladies if the gentlemen go off to play cards or billiards. You want me to do that, don’t you, Mother?’

Ivy sighed. ‘Very well, dear.’

‘That’s settled then.’ Seth Hargreaves stood up. ‘Off you go, Ivy, and let me get on with the champagne.’

Ruth’s pretty blue eyes lit up. ‘Oh, champagne, how lovely. Don’t worry about me, Mother,’ Ruth said, as the two women walked out into the dimly lit passage outside the butler’s pantry. ‘Father will look after me.’ She turned towards the green baize door that led to the main house and felt her mother’s eyes on her as she walked through it and into a different life.

The reception hall of Waterley Hall was large enough for a small dance. It had a mosaic tiled floor and four fluted marble pillars on each side. Opposite the large front door, a wide staircase with gilt balustrades rose grandly to the first floor. Wood-panelled doors led off the hall to the dining room, drawing room, library and morning room.

This will be my world, Ruth thought. Not for her the world below stairs that was her parents’ existence. They were respectable and comfortable as butler and housekeeper at Waterley Hall, but they were servants nonetheless. Ruth was determined to have a different life, to be mistress of a great house like Waterley, with servants of her own.

Seth Hargreaves shared his daughter’s ambition; he also knew how to please his betters. He was master of his own domain in the servants’ hall and ruled it with a proverbial iron rod. Servants who did not comply did not stay. The footmen may gossip in their dormitories about Ruth’s elevated status to guest at His Lordship’s table, but if one word of it reached her father’s ear they would be ‘asked to leave’. This autocratic regime had impressed the young lord, and Seth had quickly secured his patronage.

Michael, head footman at the Hall, was on duty outside the drawing-room door and opened it as soon as he saw her. ‘Miss Ruth, My Lord,’ he said. His face was expressionless but Ruth knew that he was in love with her. She might have considered him, too – he was a fine-looking man – if he wasn’t a servant. Perfect for my future butler, she thought.

‘Over here.’ Lord Laughton was standing in the bay window, staring out at the driveway. He had dark hair and eyes, and features that some described as ‘craggy’. But he looked very handsome in full evening dress with a tail coat and white tie. However, when she stood by his side, she realised that he was rather short. The door clicked shut behind her and they were alone. ‘Turn around,’ he said.

Ruth twirled for him as she had for her father. She noticed that his eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched slightly and she feared he did not like what he saw. ‘Father said I looked beautiful,’ she said nervously.

‘He’s right. Come closer.’

She did and he stroked a finger over her cheek and lips. She hadn’t expected him to touch her and recoiled instinctively.

‘Stay where you are!’ he exclaimed.

‘I’m sorry, My Lord. You surprised me.’

‘And don’t call me “My Lord”. I’m Laughton to my friends.’

She knew that! Father had told her that! She recovered immediately and replied, ‘Of course, Laughton.’

His hand travelled down over her throat to the exposed swell of her breasts. It lingered over their fullness, continued to her tightly corseted waist and returned to her breasts. She held her breath, suppressing the instinct to flee. A clock chimed somewhere, breaking Laughton’s reverie. He dropped his hand and turned his attention back to the window. The first carriage was approaching.

The door opened again and Ruth’s father announced the first of the guests who had arrived earlier for a few days’ shooting. His face was as expressionless as Michael’s. Ruth put on her welcoming smile and prepared to do her best. Over the next hour she smiled a lot, drank champagne and joined in the conversation with suitable comments and questions.

Dinner for twenty people lasted over three hours. Everyone drank wine and voices grew louder. On two separate occasions she caught a glimpse of one of the gentlemen watching her and acknowledged his interest with an incline of her head. When her father removed her dessert plate, he whispered in her ear, ‘Now, Ruth.’

She caught the eye of another lady guest, nodded, and they stood up together. ‘Shall we leave the gentlemen to their port and stilton, ladies?’ She smiled and led the way to the drawing room. Her mouth was beginning to ache with constant smiling.

Michael brought in coffee for the ladies and murmured to her, ‘Your father sends his compliments.’

Ruth relaxed with a sigh. Father was pleased. She had performed well and the evening was almost over. Later, one of the ladies played and sang at the piano and some of the gentlemen joined them in the drawing room. His Lordship was not among them but Father came in afterwards and announced cards. Within minutes, the footmen under Michael’s supervision had set up the tables and the remaining gentlemen wandered in and took their places. A few of the ladies sat down with them.

‘Ruth,’ His Lordship called, ‘come over here and bring me luck.’ Ruth didn’t know how she was going to do that but she obeyed. His Lordship was in high spirits. The party broke up about an hour later except for the card table with His Lordship and his friends who were house guests, which carried on.

‘Shall I retire as well, Laughton?’ Ruth said.

‘Certainly not. I’m on a winning streak thanks to you and these gentlemen are chasing their losses.’ He raised a hand in the air and called, ‘Hargreaves, more brandies, and bring sandwiches.’

The cigar smoke was hurting her eyes but Ruth kept smiling. She was tired and she was bored. Her father sent his footmen off duty and stood to attention in the shadows. The cards fell right for His Lordship. His winnings mounted and eventually the others called a halt. But the gentleman who had caught Ruth’s eye at dinner was now so drunk that he could barely stand up and Father was obliged to assist him upstairs. Ruth found herself once again alone with His Lordship in the empty drawing room.

‘He’s a fool,’ His Lordship said, referring to his drunken guest. ‘He falls for it every time. I ply him with drink until he can’t think straight and then I take all his money off him.’ He laughed and held out his arm. ‘Come here, Ruth.’

She hesitated. It was very late and she was exhausted. But she felt safe because His Lordship wasn’t drunk and Father would be back soon.

‘I said come here.’ Laughton stepped forward, grasping her hand and pulling her towards him.

Ruth bumped against his chest and his mouth was on hers before she could protest. He held her firmly and thrust her lips open with his tongue. This wasn’t supposed to happen! He was hard up against here, pressing his hips into hers and she wanted to push him away.

But he would stop soon, she reasoned, and then she could voice her disapproval. The worst she had imagined was a brief stolen kiss in a dark corner from a single gentleman who might ask if he could take her for a carriage ride.

His mouth moved to the swell of her breasts, giving her a chance to breath. ‘Please stop this, Laughton. Father assured me you wouldn’t—’

‘I am master here,’ he growled and tore at the neckline of her gown with his teeth to expose more of her flesh.

‘What are you doing?’ Ruth demanded. A frisson of fear shivered down her spine. What if he didn’t stop at a kiss? He ignored her question and steered her forcefully back to one of the couches.

She began to panic and push at him with her hands. ‘Father will be back any minute,’ she cried.

‘Then we’d best hurry, hadn’t we? I’m not going to hurt you so don’t fight with me, Ruth.’

This made her feel easier and she let out her breath.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Just relax and do as I say.’

Ruth felt that she hadn’t much choice. He was strong and he had pinned her down on the couch. He sat on the edge, facing her, and then buried his face in her exposed breasts, nipping and nibbling at her flesh. She hated it but his weight pressed into her. Her frightened eyes gazed at the chandelier in the ornate plaster ceiling and she pushed ineffectually at his shoulders. One of his hands was fumbling at his clothes between them. To her horror the other reached down and under her skirts following the line of her thigh to the gap in her drawers.

‘No, you can’t do this! You’re not supposed to do this!’

‘Shut up,’ he said harshly. ‘I said relax. You don’t want me to hit you, do you?’

‘Hit me? Why would you hit me?’ she cried. His fingers were between her legs and she was frightened. ‘Stop it, Laughton, stop it!’

But he didn’t stop. He found what he was searching for and bunched up her skirts, her beautiful new silk skirts, until they exposed her drawers. The silk covered her face but he didn’t seem to notice. He was stretched out on top of her with his knee between her legs, prodding and poking at her. She recoiled and pushed her bottom backwards into the couch. Her bustle made this movement useless and her hips remained raised towards him. With a sickening grasp of the situation, she realised what he was about to do whether she wanted it or not and she could not escape from him. Her continuing protests were muffled by her skirts.

It didn’t really hurt that much. Or maybe she was too shocked to feel anything. He was heavy but he didn’t seem very big inside her. She couldn’t see his face but she could hear him grunting and feel him pushing and pushing and pushing. She could smell him, too, or maybe it was her. It was over quickly and he flopped on top of her, groaning and panting. Then he stood up, fastened his trousers and said, ‘Not a word to anyone about this, Ruth.’ He wandered over to the window.

Ruth closed her legs. Her flesh was damp and sticky where he’d been. She wanted to wash him away and pulled down her skirts to cover her legs.

‘Why did you do that to me?’ she muttered.

‘Didn’t you like it?’

‘No.’

‘Well, it was the first time for you. You’ll enjoy it next time.’

Next time? Ruth thought. How can there be a next time when I’m supposed to be wooed by a gentleman suitor? And what about him; he had a wife, for heaven’s sake. He was an adulterer! She was sitting on the couch pushing her breasts back into her gown when Father returned.

He took one look at her dishevelled hair and said, ‘Ruth, what have you been doing?’

‘She fell asleep on the couch, Hargreaves,’ Laughton answered from the window. ‘Didn’t you, Ruth?’

‘Yes, My Lord,’ she replied, hating herself for lying. What else was she to do? Admit to her father that she had allowed His Lordship to take her virtue? She felt like crying.

Lord Laughton crossed the room from the window to the door. As he passed her father he patted him on the shoulder. ‘Good work tonight, Hargreaves. We’ll talk about your new position in the morning.’

‘Goodnight, sir.’ Her father opened the door for His Lordship and closed it after him. ‘On your feet, Ruth, and buck up. It’s late.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And tidy your hair before I take you home. Your mother will have a fit. What happened to your gown?’

‘The stitching tore. I’ll take it back to the dressmaker tomorrow.’

‘I’ve got your coat in the servants’ hall. The trap’s waiting.’

She followed her father back through the green baize door and shivered in the cold passage while he extinguished the last of the candles. She continued to shiver all the way home in the trap.

‘You’re quiet,’ Father commented.

She pulled up the collar of her coat. ‘I’m tired.’

‘You can sleep in tomorrow. You did very well tonight. His Lordship is pleased.’

Ruth choked back her tears. Father stopped the trap at the front of their cottage and she climbed down. Mother opened the door before she reached it.

‘Did you enjoy yourself, dear?’ Mother asked.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she lied. ‘I’m going straight to bed.’

‘Don’t you want some chocolate?’

‘No thank you.’

‘I’ll bring it upstairs for you.’

‘No thank you,’ she cried and ran up the narrow twisty staircase to her bedroom.

She left her silk gown in a crumpled heap on the floor, put a pillow over her head to muffle her sobs and wept until she fell asleep.

She heard Father rise early the following day. He fed the pony and harnessed the trap while Mother raked the fire and pumped water for the kettle. They left shortly afterwards to breakfast at the Hall. As soon as the water was warm enough she carried it upstairs to wash and put on clean clothes. Then she spread a calico sheet on the bed and wrapped the gown to take back to the dressmaker. It had cost Father a lot of money but the joy she’d felt when it arrived had disappeared and she couldn’t imagine ever wearing it again. In fact, she never wanted to see it again.

She was drinking tea when she heard the first guns go off in the distance. The old family used to shoot at their lodge up near Harrogate. But the railway line had cut through the land and ruined cover for the birds. They had been well compensated and bought up forest in the South Riding instead. The locals were pleased. They were beaters and dog handlers by day and poachers for the pheasant by night.

Father would be supervising luncheon out in the field, Ruth realised. Mother would be busy making sure that Waterley Hall was at its pristine best for His Lordship’s guests. But the Hall would be quiet until the shooting party returned at the end of the day. She took down her coat and hat from the peg and set off walking.

She felt soiled and miserable but the brisk fresh air helped her to think and gave her strength. Losing her virtue was a disaster for her only if others knew and His Lordship wouldn’t tell anyone. He had a crabby old wife who was easily angered. However, Ruth had to talk to someone about last night or she would go quite mad.

The only person she could trust was her mother. She had argued with Father against Ruth being there last night anyway. Also, Ivy knew more about Lady Laughton’s tantrums than Father. Ruth didn’t understand why His Lordship had married her until Father explained that it was a ‘business arrangement’.

Lady Laughton’s first husband and His Lordship had been second cousins; their fathers had owned shipyards on the east coast and steelworks in the South Riding. As partners the cousins possessed the largest industry in Yorkshire and numbered amongst the richest men in a prosperous country. A generation on from the Great Exhibition of 1851, Britannia led the world and Queen Victoria ruled much of it. Steel and shipping basked in this wealth.

But when Lady Laughton was widowed, her husband left his share of the industry to her. His Lordship’s father had been the youngest of the cousins and although the widow was much older than he, His Lordship was keen to secure total control – he could not risk her marrying someone else and taking her share with her. As it was, another cousin who had emigrated also had a share, but he was content to be a sleeping partner despite approaches from lawyers to sell.

It was rumoured that the present Lord Laughton’s father had bought his title by lining the pockets of politicians in London. He was ‘new money’ and it showed, Father said. But Ruth was beginning to think that her father was cut from the same ambitious cloth as His Lordship. It was a trait, she guessed, that she shared. She had gone along with his plans for her to mix with the gentry and marry well. However, she had not realised the price she would have to pay.

She stood in the servants’ passage waiting for her mother to hurry by. The Hall might be quiet while everyone was out shooting but below stairs was buzzing, not least because guests had brought their own servants with them. Visiting valets and footmen always caused a stir among the maids. She wondered if any of them had lost their virtue last night.

‘Ruth, what are you doing here?’

‘I want to talk to you, Mother.’

‘About last night? Yes, I thought you might have something to say to me. You looked quite worn out. Have you had breakfast?’

She shook her head.

‘Wait in my sitting room. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Ruth felt safe in the housekeeper’s sitting room at Waterley Hall. It was her mother’s private space and even Father did not often intrude. Ruth had spent many childhood hours occupying herself in there while Mother worked. She made up the fire, took a ladies’ journal from the bookshelf and settled in a comfortable chair.

The door opened and Mother came in followed by a kitchen maid with a heavy tray. The maid placed it on the table and said, ‘Will there be anything else, ma’am?’

‘We’ll have a pot of tea and cake in an hour. I want today’s cake, mind.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Ivy lifted the lid off the tureen and a steamy spicy aroma escaped. ‘It’s the soup that went out to the field for His Lordship.’ She sniffed the contents. ‘Mmmm, mulligatawny.’ She placed her hand upon a bulky white napkin. ‘With warm bread from the oven. I’ll have indigestion but it’ll be worth it.’ Then she turned her attention to her daughter. ‘Dear me, Ruth, you look awful this morning. Did you drink wine last night?’

‘Just a little.’

‘Well, you know my feelings on that.’

‘Father says I must learn about wine.’

Ivy frowned but only said, ‘Come and sit to the table.’ She ladled out the soup and drew out a chair. ‘Now, what have you to tell me? Did one of the gentlemen guests take an interest in you?’

Ruth had rehearsed what she would say … Yes, a gentleman had taken an interest but it wasn’t the one she had expected and she … she … she didn’t know what to do … She didn’t know what to do. It was as this last phrase ran through her head that Ruth broke down and cried. She spluttered and sobbed and tried to speak but choked and coughed on the words. Ivy was silent. Ruth couldn’t see her mother’s expression through her tears but when she had hiccupped to a halt Mother was sitting staring at her with a stony face.

‘What happened, Ruth?’ she asked.

The hiccups hadn’t stopped. ‘He – he – I was … on the couch … and he was on top of me … I tried to stop him … I did try … but I – I … couldn’t.’ She covered her face with the clean white napkin. The tears were flowing again. She couldn’t help herself.

‘What did he do to you, Ruth?’

She inhaled with a shudder, but her throat was closed.

‘Tell me what he did.’

Ruth jumped at her mother’s angry tone and every nerve in her body jangled.

‘Did he open his trousers and push himself inside you?’

Ruth pulled the napkin down and away from her face. It was exactly what he had done and she nodded.

‘Ruth, Ruth, Ruth!’ her mother anguished. ‘I expect it from my maids but not from my own daughter. Where was your father when this happened?’

‘He … he … he was putting someone to bed.’

‘We’ll have to tell him.’

‘Oh, please don’t do that, Mother. No one need know if we don’t tell anybody.’

‘Except the gentleman concerned. He’s ruined you, don’t you see? Well, he has to take responsibility and marry you because no other gentleman will even look at you now.’ Ivy stood up and paced around the room. ‘I knew it! I told your father it was a bad idea when Lady Laughton wasn’t here to keep her eye on things. Would he have it? Well, we’ll see who was right now, won’t we?’ she fumed.

Ruth sobbed and hiccupped and eventually croaked, ‘I’m sorry, Mother.’

‘Be quiet! I’m thinking.’

The fire died down and the soup went cold. There was a tap on the door. ‘Not now!’ Ivy snapped. Ruth needed a cup of tea but she didn’t protest. Eventually, her mother had calmed and sat down again.

‘We have to tell your father because he’ll know what to do. He’s a favourite at the moment. Lord Laughton has made him house steward. We were planning to celebrate tonight. Dear heaven, Ruth, what were you thinking of?’

‘I … I t-t-told him to stop and he … he wouldn’t listen to me.’

Ivy let out a sharp impatient sigh. ‘Well, all is not lost. At least he’s a gentleman. He’ll have to marry you, that’s all. It’s not how we wanted it but if your father can get His Lordship to persuade the gentleman to do the right thing … His Lordship will help us when Father tells him.’

Ruth was startled into sensibility. ‘No he won’t. I mean, he can’t! You don’t understand, Mother! It was His Lordship that did it!’

‘What?’ Ivy covered her face with her hands and cried angrily, ‘Ruth, what have you done, you stupid, stupid girl?’

She ought to have known better than to expect sympathy from her pious mother and retaliated, ‘I didn’t do anything! He did it to me. And he seemed to think he was going to carry on doing it! It’s not what I’ve done, Mother, it’s what you and father have not done. You didn’t warn me about that! You didn’t tell me that might happen!’

Ivy stood up. ‘That’s enough, Ruth. I’ve brought you up properly to value and guard your virtue and this is how you repay me at the first opportunity. The sooner you are married the better, as far as I am concerned.’

‘Yes, well,’ Ruth muttered, ‘as you say, who will marry me now?’

‘Who indeed.’ Ivy sighed.

The door opened without prior knocking and Father walked in with a picnic basket. He glanced at the table and placed the basket on the floor. His face was ruddy from being outdoors and drinking left-over sloe gin from the shoot. ‘His Lordship has ordered a buffet dinner for tonight so I’ll be home early to celebrate,’ he said. ‘Has Mother told you my good news, Ruth?’

‘Yes, Father.’

Seth rubbed his hands together. ‘His Lordship’s had a good day and he’s in fine spirits. He has a proposition for me. I’ll be home as soon as he’s seen me. You two take the trap with this food.’ He kicked the basket. ‘I’ll hitch a ride or walk.’

‘Are the guns back already?’

‘Only one or two of the lady followers who want first dibs at the hot water.’

Ivy picked up her chatelaine. ‘They’ll need linen. Stay here, Ruth, and don’t breathe a word to anyone.’

‘Is something up?’ Father queried.

‘No.’

‘Nothing at all.’

Ruth and her mother had answered at exactly the same time.

Ruth unpacked the basket of cold roast beef, the cook’s own mustard pickle, beetroot and a bottle of wine. Dessert pears and the end of the stilton were in the bottom. The cheese smelled too strong to eat. It was last year’s because it was too early for this year’s to be ready yet. She laid out their tea attractively on the kitchen table and scrubbed some potatoes to bake in the oven. She was hungry now and nibbled at the beef. There was plenty. Lord Laughton fed himself, his guests and his servants well.

Father was subdued when he arrived home and opened the wine straightaway. He drank it instead of tea with his meal. They were nearly finished before he said, ‘I thought he was going to offer me a new house, now I’m steward.’

‘It’s nice here,’ Ruth said. ‘I like it.’

‘It was you he wanted to see me about,’ he said.

Ruth exchanged an alarmed glance with her mother who shook her head silently.

‘I always knew you’d catch the eye of the gentry and live in a fine house one day,’ he went on. ‘But I didn’t expect it this way.’

‘What did he say to you, Seth?’

‘He’s taken a fancy to our daughter, Ivy, a proper shine to her, he has. He said he’d noticed how lovely she’d grown. Well, I knew he had, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to the party last night, or paid for the gown.’

‘You told me the silk was from you!’ Ruth cried.

‘Be quiet, Ruth,’ her mother responded. ‘What do you mean, Seth? He’s a married man.’

‘Yes, but look at who he’s wed to? Who in their right mind w. . .