Chapter 5
5
ELOISE – THE PREVIOUS YEAR
Eloise knew she was lucky to have such kind and devoted parents. They had married for love, neither having come from a social class wealthy enough to have had their marriages arranged, and this love had endured. The only sadness that David and Freda Haughton bore was that they had been blessed with just the one child. But Eloise carried the secret joy that her father loved her as much as, or maybe even more than, he loved his wife.
As the proud owner of a small shoe factory on the outskirts of town, he would often return from a long day’s work, having stopped off to buy her a length of pretty ribbon or colourful paper dolls for her scrap albums. On one occasion he even came home with a new bonnet for her. But there was, he said, no present he could possibly buy that would ever compare to the beauty of his daughter.
It wasn’t strictly true, and she knew it. Despite her fair hair, she did not possess remarkable eyes or an enchanting almond-shaped face. She had neither the height nor the grace to catch a man’s eye, and was not captivating enough to stand out from the crowd. There were no floods of suitors banging down their door, merely a few interested parties that her father did not deem good enough for his precious only child. But she was bright and managed quite well in life, smiling when she needed to, and she had a gift of saying the right thing to people, which generally endeared her to them.
However, everything changed quite dramatically for the Haughton family, and certainly with regard to Eloise’s marriage prospects, when she turned twenty and her father rather unexpectedly inherited a fortune of some considerable size. A distant relative died childless and, as one of the few males in his family line – and the only one with a sensible head on him – he was named as the sole beneficiary in the will.
Overnight, she became one of the most attractive young ladies in her neighbourhood, and even more so when that neighbourhood changed. The Haughtons went from moderately well off, renting a townhouse on the outskirts of Branchester, to remarkably wealthy, enabling her father to purchase a large Georgian property in the countryside, as befitted their newfound status. From employing merely a cook and a maid-of-all-work, the family now boasted a staff of eight. Young Eloise even had her own girl, Rose, who helped her to arrange her fair hair into glamorous curls and squeeze into the multitude of fashionable dresses that her father paid for without a second thought.
Generally a content young lady, she became increasingly restless and unhappy. This was largely due to the sedate nature of rural life, which curtailed her trips to the theatre and limited her social circle. And that’s where all the trouble began. Because suddenly her world became more focused. Everything, from her friendships to the activities she undertook, centred around the small, albeit pleasant, village of Lowbridge. Adding to her frustrations, she was also wrestling with a whole gamut of new emotions that she had no idea how to navigate, including, for the first time in her life, her father saying no to her .
Because Eloise Haughton fell in love and, conveniently forgetting that he had been permitted to choose his own bride, her father decided that the young man in question was unsuitable. His only daughter, with a promised dowry of not inconsequential size, could do better.
But she was used to getting what she wanted and set about doing exactly that.
‘Has a new family moved in across the green?’ Eloise asked her mother, as she sat in the window seat of their morning room, looking across their driveway and out into the village.
The Haughtons’ house stood in the centre of Lowbridge, taller and grander than all the buildings in the immediate vicinity, save the church. The small school and several modest dwellings encircled the village green, along with a run of smart tied cottages, which housed workers from the Lowbridge estate. It was these cottages that had been her focus for much of the morning.
‘A Mr Thornbury and his son,’ her mother replied from across the room. ‘The wife died unexpectedly a couple of years ago and the father moved here to be near his sister, I understand. Men do so struggle with household management and often require the overseeing eye of a female. And with no daughter, I assume he is more than happy to defer household decisions to his next closest female relative.’
They had been there barely three months themselves, arriving at the tail end of a bitter and unforgiving winter, but were now nicely settled. Her father, in particular, was enjoying the weekly games of cricket that took place not one hundred yards from his house, and his wife had ingratiated herself with Lady Fletcher, the owner of Lowbridge Hall – by far the grandest house for miles around, but set apart from the village. Consequently, her mother now behaved as though she were part of the landed gentry.
‘Mr Thornbury senior has secured an undergardener job at the estate, and I believe the cottage came with the job.’
‘Shall I ask Cook to make them a cake and we can take it over?’ Eloise suggested, embracing the largesse that the vicar often reminded his congregation came with wealth and privilege. ‘They will be overwhelmed and exhausted by the move and will appreciate such a gift.’
‘A kind thought, dear,’ her mother agreed.
Kindness was part of her motivation, but curiosity was certainly another. Eloise had seen a strapping young man busying himself in and out of the end cottage for the last hour. Dark-haired and unusually tall, he had a flopping fringe, which he continually swiped at with a free hand. Was he the son of the grieving Mr Thornbury? She was keen to find out.
After asking Cook to bake a fruit loaf, Eloise continued to watch the comings and goings from her bedroom, which gave her a clearer vantage point. A heavily laden Pickfords wagon appeared during the course of the day, stuffed to capacity with furniture, rolled rugs and a lifetime of possessions. These were duly unloaded by two older men in woollen caps, and she watched, utterly fascinated by the endless stream of chattels that came from the interior of the vehicle – far more than she ever could have conceived fitted into such a compact space. It was rather like the knotted string of silk handkerchiefs she had once witnessed being pulled from the sleeve of a touring magician.
As the last box was carried inside, and the wagon trundled away, Eloise decided that the floppy-haired young man must surely be in need of refreshments by now. He had worked tirelessly for the last two hours.
And she had just the thing.
‘Welcome to Lowbridge. I am Freda Haughton and this is my daughter, Eloise.’
Her mother presented the delicious-smelling cake as Eloise noted with satisfaction that the young man who had opened the door was indeed handsome, even more so close up.
‘We have brought you a little something for your afternoon tea. Consider it a welcome gift to enjoy in your new home.’
He had an open book in his hands and hastily turned down the corner of the page before placing it on a side table and accepting the cake. Eloise noticed her mother’s unease at spoiling a book so.
‘Thank you. I’m Daniel Thornbury.’ The young man nodded, unable to do anything other than dip his head now that both hands were engaged in the receipt of a large tin. ‘Please, step inside and let me introduce you to my father.’
The pair ducked under the low lintel of the cottage and entered an exceedingly small front room, where an older gentleman leapt to his feet as the necessary introductions were made.
Eloise’s mother looked at the grubby appendage that was offered to her and wrinkled up her nose. It was truly the hand of a working man: rough skin covered in callouses, with a crescent of soil under each nail.
‘Ladies, please take a seat,’ Mr Thornbury senior said.
Mother and daughter looked to the low upholstered chairs with not an antimacassar in sight, and both noticed the worn arms and faded fabric.
‘How kind, but really we can’t stop,’ her mother said. Eloise, however, was torn; her new dress was of salmon-coloured silk with a delicate lace trim. It was immaculate and she wanted to keep it that way, yet part of her also wanted to stay because she was close enough to the smiling Daniel to detect the lingering aroma of tobacco, and the unnervingly masculine smell made her knees weak and her breath catch in her throat.
‘Shall we see you at church on Sunday?’ she asked, thinking that more salubrious surroundings might be preferable in her efforts to impress.
‘Not for me, I’m afraid,’ said the father. ‘I don’t much see eye to eye with the big fella since he took my Dora and was hardly an admirer before. I’m not even sure there is a God. Religion is just a convenient way of keeping the poor in their place. Seven days to create the world – ha, a likely story. Because to my mind, he didn’t do a particularly great job. But then that’s what happens when you rush things. Like to take my time, me. Think things over. Consider all me options.’
Her mother tried to hide her shock at being in the company of an atheist but Eloise saw the alarm in her eyes. God was paramount in all things – after Lady Fletcher, that is.
‘Have you no thoughts of marrying again, Mr Thornbury? Have someone to cook for you and keep the house in order?’ Eloise said. And who might instruct you better to keep your fingernails clean, she thought.
Mr Thornbury sighed. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. I loved my Dora but she could be a dreadful nag. Maybe you’re right; two years is a long time to be clambering into an empty bed, with no one there to warm you up. I don’t half miss the cuddles and the jiggling about.’ He grinned at the ladies.
Eloise glanced at her mother who looked horrified by the notion, staring at Mr Thornbury as though he were something unpleasant she’d just stepped in.
The older man shrugged. ‘It’s just one of those things I haven’t got around to yet.’
‘I imagine he’s got at least another two-score years on this earth, so plenty of time to consider his options,’ Daniel said, under his breath, and rolled his eyes. She chanced a slight smile and Daniel winked in return.
And that was all it took for her to fall head over cream-leather heels in love.
‘And how is the prettiest girl in the whole of Christendom?’ her father asked later that day, kissing his daughter’s forehead, having returned from a trip to his Branchester factory.
‘We visited the Thornburys.’ Eloise was still fizzing from the visit.
He looked blank.
‘No one of note, dear,’ her mother ventured, unpicking a crooked stitch from a small, embroidered tobacco pouch she was making for her husband now that she was a lady of leisure. The project, however, was not going well. ‘Father and son who have just moved into the village.’
‘Ah, but from the animated look on your face, I suspect there is something you’re not telling me, Eloise. Was the young man handsome? Something has certainly perked up my darling daughter. You’ve been moping about of late but there is much more colour about your cheeks than when I left this morning.’
Her mother huffed from her seat by the fire, and her father walked over to his wife, absent-mindedly placing his hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to drop the smallest of kisses on his fingers before looking up to his face and Eloise wished, not for the first time, that she had someone who looked at her like that.
‘The son was easy on the eye, to be sure, but Eloise can banish any thoughts of that nature. We shan’t be mixing with them beyond crossing paths about the village. The son is a factory worker in the city, and the father is an unabashed heathen.’ Her mother shuddered. Factory work and a lack of religion were clearly things to be ashamed of.
She’d become increasingly judicious over who she deemed suitable acquaintances in the few short months of acquiring their inherited wealth. Shop people and those in industry had been good enough for her before. She’d even tried to persuade her husband to sell the shoe-making business, wanting to sever their association with trade, but the factory had been started by David Haughton’s father, and he claimed it was in his blood. Eloise did not share her mother’s newfound snobbery. Yes, she had money and status now, but did not mind mixing with those who did not. Much to her own surprise, it turned out that she was driven by something more primal: her emotions.
She would ignore her mother’s instructions because Daniel had stirred something in her. The attraction was intense, and she’d not felt like this about any of the young men who had come into her world since their altered fortunes. All she had to do was work on her father, because he always let her have what she wanted… Eventually.