‘Shush then,’ she soothed, rocking the baby to and fro. ‘He’ll be back before you know it.’
Charlotte stared up at her from eyes that were the exact same colour as her own and after jamming her thumb in her mouth her eyelids began to droop and she finally slept.
‘Right, while she’s havin’ a nap, let’s get this crib out of ’ere an’ into the next room,’ Becky suggested, pointing at David’s cot. ‘I can see it upsets the master every time he comes in an’ I can’t say as it makes me feel very nice either. I think of ’im every time I look at it, the poor little mite. We should sort all his clothes out an’ all, an’ ask the master what he wants done wi’ ’em. There’s plenty down in the town who’d be grateful for ’em.’
Amber nodded in agreement and so, after tucking Charlotte into her crib, they set about manhandling the other one into the next room and sorting David’s clothes into a pile.
It was very late in the afternoon by the time the last mourner left and within minutes of them leaving Barnaby was back again. He had been the same ever since David had died. It was almost as if he was afraid that something was going to happen to Charlotte too. But the second he entered the room he stopped and stared at the space where David’s crib had stood before asking, ‘Where is it?’
It was Becky who answered nervously, ‘We, er?.?.?. moved it into the next room, sir. We thought it might be too upsettin’ for yer to have to see it every time yer came in. An’ we’ve sorted all his clothes out as well. What would yer like us to do wi’ ’em?’
A muscle twitched in his cheek and his eyes grew bright as he answered, ‘You’ll do nothing with them for now. I don’t want a single thing of his to go out of the house, do you understand me?’
Looking suitably chastened, Becky nodded.
Feeling she had to defend the girl, Amber piped up, ‘We were only tryin’ to help. It can’t have been easy for you seeing his empty cradle every time you came in!’
Hands clenched, he stared at her for a moment before turning and slamming from the room.
‘Oh dear, here we were thinkin’ we were helpin’ an’ it looks like we’ve only made things worse!’ Becky chewed on her lip for a moment before asking tentatively, ‘What is it between you an’ the master anyway? I’ve noticed you only speak to each other when yer have to.’
Felling embarrassed, Amber shrugged. ‘I suppose I just don’t care for him,’ she mumbled and Becky frowned.
‘But why not? He’s a good enough boss, ain’t he? An’ they said downstairs yer worked in the laundry afore you came up here. That’s a big step up, surely. I’d ’ave thought yer’d be pleased about it.’
‘A job is a job.’ Keen to change the subject, Amber nodded towards the water jug. ‘But now get some water on to warm an’ make yourself useful. It’ll be time for this little ’un’s bath soon.’
Sensing that enough had been said on the subject, although she had no idea why, Becky went to do as she was told. Deep down she was already worrying that as there was only one baby left to care for now it might be decided that she was no longer needed, but she prayed that this wouldn’t be the case. It was the best job she had ever had. She had a warm bed all to herself, as much good food as she could eat and spare money to give to her mam to help feed her siblings back at home. But then what would be would be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
April, 1846
‘Look at the pretty flowers, darling.’ Amber turned the perambulator Mr Greenwood had bought for Charlotte towards the copse of trees and the sweet little girl sucked on her thumb as she stared in awe at the sea of bluebells beneath the tender green leaves. It had been a long hard winter and now Amber was loving being able to take the child out into the fresh air, although she still had to be careful because the April showers could come from nowhere and she didn’t want the baby to get wet and catch a chill. Charlotte was now seven months old and the apple of Amber’s eye, and now when she looked at her she wondered how she could ever have thought of giving her away.
However, over the last few weeks Amber had become increasingly unsettled and more and more she thought of how wonderful it would be if she were to have her own little home where she could have Charlotte all to herself. She was painfully aware that Mr Greenwood had only given her the position of Charlotte’s nanny because of guilt but she hated to feel indebted to him. And so for the last few weeks she had spent her Sunday afternoons searching for a position that provided accommodation where she could take her baby to work with her – after all, she had reasoned, lots of other mothers worked. But it was proving to be far harder than she had thought it would be and up to now she’d had no luck at all.
She knew deep down that Barnaby Greenwood would be devastated if she were to take the baby away, for since losing David, he had grown even closer to the child, but the way she saw it, she had every right to. Charlotte was her daughter too and she doubted he would cause a fuss in case she was to tell everyone how the child had come about. In addition, his wife was now holding on to life by a thread, if the rumours that Becky brought back to the nursery from below stairs were anything to go by, and she doubted he would want anything to upset her to the point that it would speed her end. And so Amber felt quite within her rights to claim the child and as far as she was concerned, he would just have to get used to it. After all, had she done as he had ordered her to, Charlotte would never have been born.
She spent the next hour happily wheeling Charlotte about the manicured lawns pointing out things of interest to the child until the sun suddenly went in and the sky became leaden, so she hurried inside before the rain came.
When she got back to the nursery it was to find that Becky had just brought their lunch up on a tray, so after settling Charlotte to play with her gaily painted wooden bricks on the hearthrug, she settled down to enjoy her soup and the crusty bread fresh from the oven.
Becky was a little chatterbox and as she rattled on Amber glanced over at her and smiled. She had perfected the art of letting half the chatter go in one ear and out of the other. The girl had changed almost beyond recognition from the skinny waif she had been when she first arrived. Her once gaunt face was now rounded and her hair shone and Amber’s one regret was that once she took Charlotte away, poor Becky would be out of a job. But then something she said made Amber’s ears prick up.
‘What was that you just said?’
Becky swallowed a mouthful of soup and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘I said me mam went fer a job at Barstow’s farm last week. It’s about two miles inland, but after meetin’ the farmer an’ his wife she said she wouldn’t ’ave taken it even if they’d offered her double. They never keep staff fer long apparently cos of how they treat ’em. Mam said the farmer’s wife ’as got a tongue on her that’s sharp enough to cut glass an’ he’s a dirty old sod apparently who can’t keep ’is hands to ’imself, if yer get me meanin’? They’ve got two son’s an’ all an’ they ain’t much better from what I’ve ’eard. It would ’ave been too much of a trek fer ’er all that way there an’ back every day anyroad. They’re lookin’ fer someone to live in. I feel sorry fer whoever they get. They reckon they’re right slave drivers.’
Amber said nothing but her mind was working overtime as she wondered if it would be worth trying for the position herself. She had no doubt she could give the farmer’s wife as good as she got, and if the old man or his sons tried it on with her, she’d soon put them in their place. And it would be a roof over hers and Charlotte’s heads so surely it would be worth paying them a visit.
And so, the following Sunday afternoon, after making sure that Charlotte had everything she needed, she left her in Becky’s capable care and set off. She had a vague idea where the farm was and it was such a beautiful day, she quite enjoyed the walk. On the edge of the arable fields she passed, there was a profusion of wild flowers – the common fumitory, black medick, buttercups and bird’s-foot trefoil – with multi-coloured butterflies flitting among them. She recognised the small tortoiseshells and meadow browns that her father had once pointed out to her on a walk in happier days, and thoughts of him brought a lump to her throat and slowed her steps as she almost allowed herself to be lost in memories. But then she raised her chin and after removing her bonnet she walked on swinging it by its ribbons.
Today she had worn the summer dress her uncle had bought for her and could she have known it, she made a pretty picture as she made her way across the meadows. At last, as sweat stood out on her brow, she saw the farm below her in a hollow and began to make her way down to it. A large sheepdog on a chain began to bark as she came to the gate that led into the farmyard and seconds later a frowning young man holding a pitchfork appeared from a large barn and looked her up and down. She noticed immediately that he had a bad limp, his hair was wild and unkempt and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved for weeks. ‘An’ what can we be doin’ fer you, me little maid? Lost are you?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Oh no, no,’ Amber assured him. ‘Actually, I heard that there was a job goin’ here an’ I wondered if you’d found anyone for it yet?’
‘It’s me mam you’ll be wantin’ to see then.’ Suddenly he was all smiles as he threw the pitchfork down and limped towards her to swing the wide farm gate open. Chickens scattered, squawking indignantly, and Amber screwed up her nose as the smell of the place hit her nostrils. The farmhouse windows were grimy and the yard was covered in chicken droppings. Lifting her skirt she picked her away across them and followed him to the open door where he shouted, ‘MAM! Someone ’ere to see yer.’
