‘Aye, well I ’ave, thank yer very much, so yer can keep yer money.’
‘You can consider it a loan until Mr Ainsley returns, if you prefer,’ he said patiently but again she shook her head. After what he had done to her lass she could have spat on him as look at him, although of course she knew that she couldn’t.
‘I, er?.?.?. was wondering if you’d heard how your daughter is getting on with the Temples in London?’ he said then. ‘She’s due back soon, isn’t she?’
‘In just over a week, an’ aye, I have heard from ’er an’ she’s well.’
‘Good, I’m delighted to hear it.’ He would have liked to say more but it was like talking to a brick wall so he turned with a sigh. She was the only one who had refused his money and he hoped that she had enough food to get by on – he didn’t like the thought of her going without. But there was nothing he could do about it if she chose to be stubborn. ‘Goodbye then, Mrs Ainsley, and a Merry Christmas.’ The second the words had left his lips he could have bitten his tongue out. Here she was standing in the freezing cold waiting for a husband and sons who might never return and he was wishing her a Merry Christmas. The look she gave him was so scathing that he shrivelled inside and he turned about so hastily that he almost fell over.
*
Alice stood there until late that morning. Many of the other women with children had made their sad way home to see to their bairns but Alice stayed, hoping against all hope that a glimpse of the ships would appear through the mist.
The house felt strangely quiet when she got back and she stared sadly at her husband’s empty chair at the side of the fireplace. Will and Ted had come home the day before to spend Christmas with the family and she saw that they had thought to pop the goose that she had collected from the butcher the day before into the range oven. They had also prepared the Brussels sprouts and the vegetables, so at least they would have a Christmas dinner – not that she thought for one moment any of them would enjoy it. How could they when half of their family was missing, possibly lost at sea?
She nodded towards the two young men who were solemnly staring at her. Then with an effort she raked the fire, which was almost out, and once she had got it blazing again, she set about rolling some pastry to make mince pies.
The following morning found her standing on the quay yet again. The boat was four days late now and everyone’s concerns were growing but all they could do was watch, wait and pray.
*
Boxing Day had no happier start for Barnaby up at Greenacres, for as he sat at breakfast there was a pounding on the door and seconds later Nancy appeared to tell him. ‘Your mother an’ father in-law are ’ere to see yer, sir. Shall I show ’em in?’
‘Er?.?.?. yes, Nancy, please do.’ He quickly dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and was just rising when Louisa’s parents swept into the room.
‘Good morning, Mrs Hamilton-Tate, Mr Hamilton-Tate.’ Barnaby gave them a little bow. They looked tired and dishevelled and he realised that they must have travelled through the night in their carriage. ‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ he lied. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’
His mother-in-law scowled at him as she undid the ribbons on her elaborate bonnet. ‘We didn’t expect to see you either, but I received a letter from Louisa asking us to come as soon as possible, so here we are. I believe she is no better?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Barnaby sensed trouble. Both Louisa’s parents were fiercely protective of her and he dreaded to think what she must have written to them to make them come so quickly.
‘So what have you done about it?’ Margaret Hamilton-Tate stared at him haughtily.
‘Well, I did have a doctor from Harley Street come to examine her,’ he said in his own defence. ‘But unfortunately, he said that there’s nothing to be done. Hopefully time will be the healer.’
‘Rubbish!’ she scoffed. ‘That isn’t good enough if my poor darling is suffering. And what about the babies?’
‘Charlotte continues to thrive but I’m afraid David isn’t quite so hearty,’ he mumbled, feeling as if it was his fault. His mother-in-law could always make him feel that way.
‘And what about my businesses? Are they doing well? I’ll take a look at the books whilst I’m here.’ This was from his father-in-law, Robert, and Barnaby clamped his teeth together. Robert never allowed him to forget that he’d had very little when he first met Louisa and that he owed his success to him.
‘The businesses are doing fine,’ he told him tightly. ‘Although a couple of our whaling ships are late coming back and we have grave concerns about them. But I haven’t given up hope of them returning safely.’
Margaret waved her hand and said irritably, ‘Oh, don’t start on about business, please. I’m more concerned about my daughter at present. A cup of tea and some breakfast wouldn’t go amiss either. We have travelled a long way, you know!’
‘Of course.’ Barnaby quickly summoned the maid to bring a fresh pot of tea and more food as she settled herself at the table. Soon the room became silent as they ate their meal but the second she had finished, Margaret asked him, ‘Would you kindly accompany me to my daughter’s room? And then once I’ve seen her, I would like to see my grandchildren.’
Barnaby nodded but couldn’t help but notice that the urgency to see her daughter had only struck after his mother-in-law had eaten her eggs and drunk at least three cups of tea.
As soon as she entered Louisa’s bedroom, Margaret rushed forward, leaving Barnaby hovering behind her at the door. ‘Oh, my poor darling!’ she cried when she caught sight of her daughter in the bed. She hardly recognised her as the beautiful young woman she had once been. Louisa’s once lustrous thick hair now hung in limp cats’ tails about her gaunt face and she was so thin that Margaret gasped. ‘Are they feeding you?’ she cried, appalled.
Mrs Ruffin bristled. ‘I’ve tempted her with every tasty titbit I can think of,’ she said, highly affronted. ‘But she won’t eat, so what do you suggest we do? She doesn’t eat enough now to keep a sparrow alive, but we can’t force feed her.’
Louisa began to cry as she clung to her mother like a little girl. ‘Barnaby has been such a beast to me,’ she sobbed. ‘He put having children above my welfare even though he knew that I am not strong. I’ve told him now that he must never come to my bed again. The doctor has told me that it could kill me if I ever become with child again.’
‘Then you have done quite right,’ her mother assured her. If she were honest, she had never been keen on the physical side of marriage either, which was why Louisa had been an only child. Then turning to Barnaby, she said sharply, ‘I suggest you leave the room. You are clearly upsetting her!’
Barnaby clenched his fists and turning about, he barged out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that it danced on its hinges. He had never really seen eye to eye with his in-laws. They had never made a secret of the fact that they didn’t think he was good enough for their daughter but today he could quite willingly have strangled Margaret.
