Chapter Thirty-One
One evening, wrapped in her coat for warmth, she put her hands into her pockets and felt something that had dropped into the lining.
She lifted it out and saw it was the card from Carnforth.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d given it to her.
Both he and Philip would probably still be fighting in France but her situation was becoming desperate.
The baby could arrive any time now; she was nearly seven months pregnant.
She needed to get a message to Philip. Carnforth would know how.
The address on the card said: Stratheden Road, Vanburgh Park.
The same name, Vanburgh, it couldn’t be so far away.
She would find out how to get there! She managed to get hold of pen and paper and wrote a brief letter explaining her situation and her need to tell Philip as soon as possible.
She would go to the address on the card and hope he was there on leave or that a message could be left for him.
She recalled his words, his offer of help should she ever need it.
Well, she needed it now. At the end of her daily shift, she took the letter and set out to find Carnforth.
The gatekeeper was helpful, at least, and pointed her in the right direction.
The streets were gloomy in the fading light and she had to ask her way several times.
She hoped that she would be able to find her way back in the dark and that the night watchman would let her back in to the workhouse.
She had taken the precaution of retrieving what little money she had left from its hiding place, should she need to persuade him of her right to enter.
The Carnforth house was lit up and the shapes of several people moved in front of the windows on the ground floor.
The family must be entertaining. She couldn’t possibly knock on the front door, she would be taken for a beggar and be driven away by whoever answered.
The only way was to seek help from her own kind.
She walked around the side passage, hoping that she could find a way into the kitchens.
A tall, ironwork gate barred her way; she tried the handle but it was locked.
She waited, moving her weight from foot to foot and pressing her aching back against the wall.
She couldn’t draw attention to herself by shouting.
Who would she call for? She was about to give up when a young woman came out of the back door carrying a bucket which she began emptying down the drain.
‘Excuse me,’ Kate whispered.
The young woman was so startled she dropped the pail and stood up looking in Kate’s direction.
‘My God, you scared me!’ she spluttered. ‘What are you doing there?’
‘Is this the Carnforth residence?’ Kate asked.
The girl stepped forward. ‘Who’s asking?’ she said.
‘My name’s Kate. I know Mr Edward Carnforth.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ the girl sneered, looking at Kate’s swollen belly. ‘And does he want to know you?’
‘All I want to know is if he’s all right. Is he here or still in France?’
‘What business is that of yours?’ the girl asked.
‘What’s taking you so long, Bessie?’ a voice asked from inside.
A tall young man in a butler’s uniform came out, chastising the girl for time wasting. When he noticed Kate, he stopped mid-sentence.
‘Who’s this?’ he asked.
‘Says she knows Mr Edward. She’s in the family way,’ the girl replied.
‘I can see that,’ the butler replied.
Kate’s shivering became uncontrollable, her head started to swim and her legs gave out from under her. She hung onto the gate and put her head down to stop herself from fainting.
‘Get the key, Bessie,’ the young man ordered. ‘Can’t you see she’s not well?’
‘But . . .’
‘Don’t you but me. Do as you’re told,’ he snapped.
Kate could feel the arms either side of her holding her up, but she couldn’t see their faces.
Her eyes moved in and out of focus and there was a buzzing in her ears.
People were talking to her but she couldn’t work out what they were saying.
They guided her to a chair and sat her down.
A cup of water was put to her lips and she tried to sip but her throat wouldn’t swallow. Someone dabbed her mouth with a cloth.
She felt air moving across her face.
‘Seems to be working, Mrs Fitch,’ a voice said and she opened her eyes to see a round-faced, broad-hipped woman flapping a tea towel at her.
‘There that’s better,’ the round-faced woman said. ‘Now, Bessie, fetch me my smelling salts from the wall cupboard. They’ll do the trick.’
After several inhalations of the smelling salts and some water, Kate felt better and could answer some of the questions that were being thrown at her. Yes she really did know Edward Carnforth and he had told her to find him if she ever needed help.
‘Seems like you do now, right enough,’ the young man said.
‘I think this is a problem for Mr Jenks to deal with,’ Mrs Fitch said. ‘Go and find him, John, he’ll be finished serving the port soon to the gentlemen in the library.’
Kate was given a hot cup of tea and some fruit cake, which she ate with relish.
She hadn’t tasted anything so good since she’d left Vanburgh House.
Mr Jenks was a serious looking man with deep-set eyes and heavy brows that gave him a forbidding look, but when he sat down next to Kate and spoke to her, his voice tenderly belied his appearance.
‘Now, my dear, John here tells me that you wish to see Mr Edward,’ he said.
‘Well, he’s home but he’s not well enough for visitors as yet,’ Mr Jenks explained. ‘Come back in a few weeks and I’m sure he’ll be able to talk to you. The family are hoping he’ll be well enough to join his sister’s wedding party. That’s what’s going on upstairs, the pre-nuptial celebrations.’
Kate was devastated. It had been difficult enough for her to get here this time.
In a few weeks the baby could be here. She felt in her pocket for the letter and entrusted it to Mr Jenks, hoping that Carnforth would soon reply.
If Carnforth was a man of his word, he would help her, if not for her sake, then for Philip’s.
If she could have witnessed what happened an hour later in the Carnforth household, that hope would have died in her breast. As Kate returned to the workhouse, Mr Jenks carried the note through to Mr Carnforth Senior.
Mr Jenks might have shown Kate some kindness but when he weighed up the repercussions of delivering the letter to Mr Edward in his current condition and incurring the potential wrath of his employer, he decided upon an entirely different course of action.
After bidding his guests goodnight, Cecil Carnforth sat and smoked for a while in the library.
When Jenks entered with the letter, he listened to the explanation of how it had arrived and who it was intended for with only partial attention.
Two glasses of port after a full meal with liberal glasses of wine had made him sleepy and clouded his thoughts.
‘A young serving woman, you say?’ he asked Jenks.
‘Yes, sir. She insisted she and Mr Edward know one another,’ Jenks replied.
Cecil Carnforth placed the note on the side table.
‘Thank you, Jenks, that will be all,’ he said.
After finishing his cigar, he stood and picked up the note. Without even opening it, he screwed it into a ball and threw it into the dying embers of the fire.