Chapter 20
20
ELOISE
Eloise spent a restless summer, unmoved by the occasional attentions of uninteresting yet wealthy young men, and contriving of ways to ensure her path crossed with the young Mr Thornbury. Not easy when he did not even attend church or indeed any other village functions. She sat through several further tedious games of cricket on the green but, although his father was often present, Daniel only appeared on one occasion and she was caught with the Fletchers again, unable to speak to him. Cricket, it appeared, was not his thing. They still had that in common, at least.
When the harvest had been gathered in, and the evenings grew darker, her spirits began to dip, much like the temperatures. There would be even fewer opportunities to bump into him now, and a long winter loomed. As if her own romantic frustrations weren’t enough, it seemed that love was in the air for everyone except her. Her mother informed her that Rose had been receiving special attentions from a young man in the village called Billy Price – some character known for his shady money-making schemes, distantly related to their cook, and who flitted from one job to another. Lady Fletcher had warned Eloise’s mother how difficult it was to hold on to young female staff, especially those with anything more than an ounce of common sense, because they were so often lured away by marriage and motherhood – most frustrating when you had trained them up and could see their potential.
Eloise was cross that Rose had not mentioned any such attachment to her. It wasn’t as though they were friends, but she had thought of the young woman as a confidante and a valuable ally in her quest to win over Daniel. She had shared her romantic aspirations, but the maid had not trusted her enough to do the same. It might be prudent to make the most of her assistance whilst she still had her.
‘Rose, I need you to do something for me.’
‘Of course, miss.’
‘Find out what you can about young Mr Thornbury. What time he leaves his house in the morning, the route he takes to the train station, when he returns, who his friends are, that sort of thing.’
‘I shall feel ever so uneasy doing so,’ her maid admitted. ‘I’ve encountered him in the village a couple of times and he’s a strange one. Quite opinionated.’
The man clearly made Rose uncomfortable and she wished to avoid him, whereas he made Eloise uncomfortable and the feeling exhilarated her. It was like reading ghost stories by candlelight, knowing you would scare yourself half to death, but doing so anyway. And Daniel was certainly preferable to the fawning gentleman who had visited the previous day, agreeing with everything she said and repeatedly assuring her that she was the most beautiful and fascinating creature he’d ever met, all the while eyeing the silverware and toadying up to her father.
However, despite her initial reluctance, and over the following week, Rose did her job well. Eloise gave the maid leave to busy herself about the village and, under the pretence of running errands, she gathered the required information: Daniel caught the six-thirty-five to Branchester, worked at one of the furniture factories on the edge of the city, and returned on the seven-twenty each day.
Rose, as a servant, could chatter and gossip with those in the village Eloise felt less comfortable engaging with, and had spoken to the Thornburys’ immediate neighbour, who confirmed that the young man had a penchant for swimming in the Bran. This explained his journey through the grove on the Sunday when Eloise had followed him. Whilst everyone else was singing ‘Sitting at the Feet of Jesus’, he was rather to be found swimming below the drooping willows and alongside the last of the lemon-yellow goldenrod flowers. He was evidently using the sweet chestnut grove to access a part of the river that was rarely visited.
‘Even now that the weather is turning?’ Eloise asked, horrified to think of him in the icy river in the colder weather.
‘Oh, he swims every Sunday of the year,’ Rose said. ‘He told the schoolmaster that it was far better for his soul than listening to some religious zealot spout nonsense to the masses.’
‘Says the political zealot,’ Eloise murmured, almost to herself, but a vision of the strapping factory worker powering through the water in a state of undress had derailed her train of thought.
‘I think he is suspicious of me,’ Rose added. ‘He’s been playing merry games at my expense and leading me about in circles.’
‘Then talk to him,’ she encouraged. ‘He’s not going to bite. You might even learn something. He is extremely well read. More so than most in his circumstances.’
Eloise had continued to consume books avidly, shamed by her ignorance and keen to expand her limited horizons. She struck up a friendship with Daniel’s father, who she had quickly learned appreciated the odd gift of homemade cake, and borrowed a few volumes from the Thornbury bookshelves – works that touched on the theories of Engels and Marx. It wasn’t that she necessarily agreed that society should share everything – some people were unfortunately beyond redemption – but more that she wanted to understand these philosophies. She could see, for example, the case for better education of the masses, and Daniel was a prime example. Here was a man who would do extremely well in life if he was given the right opportunities. Perhaps she could ensure some came his way…
‘Rose?’ she said, as the maid headed for the door. ‘Is there anything you want to share with me?’
The young woman frowned.
‘About Billy Price?’
Rose shook her head in resignation.
‘Oh, miss, I don’t know what you’ve been told, and I know Cook is excited to think I have interest from a young man, but Mr Price unnerves me even more than Mr Thornbury. He doesn’t even have a steady job, turning his hand to brushing, thatching, and even hawking on the streets. He tried to kiss me on one occasion and since then, I have endeavoured not to be left alone with him.’
‘So, you are not contemplating marriage?’
‘No!’ Her servant looked most horrified at the thought. ‘I would much rather remain on the shelf than be with someone like him.’
Eloise nodded but thought her maid was overreacting somewhat. Rose was highly likely to see out her days as a spinster, if she was scandalised by an opportune kiss and too nervous to talk with Daniel. These were just men who had a bit of gumption about them.
Though, if she was honest, Rose remaining unmarried suited Eloise just fine.
‘We are going for a walk,’ Eloise announced. ‘After the morning service. A little jaunt around the village. The fresh air and exercise will do us good. So, be sure to wrap up extra warm and wear stout boots.’
‘I’ll be needed at the house, miss,’ Rose said. ‘Mrs Banbury is serving the luncheon at two.’
‘So long as you have swept the grates and set the table before church, you aren’t needed. The kitchen maid and Cook always manage. Besides, I’ve told everyone I need your help to collect chestnuts. We can leave our baskets in the church porch to save us returning to the house.’
It was a dry early November day, although temperatures had plummeted that week. Every morning the fallen leaves of russet and gold were laced with silver crystals, and the windowpanes had intricate ferns of frost across them.
After the Sunday service, Eloise witnessed for herself the unwanted attentions that Mr Price bestowed upon poor Rose. He had the girl cornered between some gravestones and a large yew, and it was only when she intervened that he scowled and stepped away.
‘Ah, you have a pretty face but no fortune, Rose, that is your sorrow,’ she said, stroking her maid’s arm. ‘And Billy Price has neither.’
The pair shared a smile, although Rose’s quickly fell away. ‘I think the one thing he does have is plenty of money. Because he offered to pay me for my kind attentions.’ Rose did not have to specify what these attentions might entail.
‘How despicable.’ Eloise was genuinely shocked. ‘Let me speak to Father and forbid the man entry to the house.’
‘Please don’t say anything. I don’t want to cause any problems for Cook. ’
She had a point. Their cook was excellent, and it wouldn’t do to upset the woman and lose her to another household.
They continued collecting the fallen chestnuts and Eloise was glad of her gloves as she handled the prickly casings of the nuts. Eventually, she called Rose to follow her further into the grove.
‘I want to see the river,’ she said, skipping under the colourful trees, swinging her half-empty basket, as the occasional fiery leaf whirligigged about their heads in the gentle autumn breeze.
Rose dutifully followed and, after a few minutes of weaving between the enormous trunks, they came to the riverbank. The water level was high, due to a thoroughly wet and miserable October, and it was flowing thick and fast.
‘Let’s explore the other side,’ Eloise said. ‘Row across and come back for our baskets later. We have plenty of time and I do feel that today is a day for adventure.’
‘Really, miss, I don’t think?—’
‘Ah, look, a boat. How fortuitous.’ It certainly had been fortuitous to discover it the previous week, when she had explored this part of the river in anticipation of her planned escapade. She knew Daniel took a Sunday swim and had been delighted to stumble across an abandoned wooden rowing boat on the bank. It wasn’t immediately obvious, concealed as it was by a tangle of dying weeds that had suffered in the frost, but she was certain that it was a small enough vessel for the pair of them to manage.
‘It’s far too cold to undertake such madness.’ Rose was unusually vocal and Eloise despaired of the young woman. Where was her sense of daring?
‘Shall we free it from the undergrowth?’ By ‘we’ she meant Rose, but this was assumed by both parties. ‘Oh, and we’ll need oars,’ she said, as her maid wrestled with the damp, brown nettle stems and wet grasses, occasionally squeaking when she was caught by a bramble .
‘There are some inside,’ Rose confirmed, still not looking enamoured of the proposed expedition.
Between them, they managed to drag it to the water, and Eloise waited patiently whilst Rose secured it to a post, clambered in, and set the weather-beaten oars in the rowlocks.
‘I’ve never rowed a boat before.’ Rose looked nervous. ‘Will we be able to steer it?’
‘I’m sure between us we can manage.’ Honestly, the girl was so gloom-ridden and defeatist.
They untied the boat and Rose helped Eloise to push it away from the bank, but it was quickly apparent that rowing was far harder than she’d assumed. Sitting next to each other, they both took oars and dipped them into the murky river, swirling them about, but neither were sure what they were doing. As Eloise pushed the water away, Rose’s strokes pulled it to her, and it took some time for them to coordinate, but even then, the boat stubbornly refused to head in the direction they required.
‘Miss, I think I know why the boat was abandoned.’ They were now drifting towards the middle of the Bran, almost equidistant from both banks. Rose pointed to the corner of the hull and both girls could see a small but growing puddle of dirty water.
Eloise felt a rising panic in her chest.
‘Quick, we must get back to the shore.’
The water level started to rise at an alarming rate and soon her boots were wet. Rose was suddenly on her knees, not caring about her clothing but instead focused on the more practical task of bailing water with her cupped hands.
Eloise tried to stand and attract attention but the boat rocked alarmingly and she slipped onto her side, crying out when she smacked her elbow down hard on the edge as she fell. ‘We’re going to drown,’ she screamed, clutching her damaged arm. ‘I can’t swim.’
Despair and absolute terror overwhelmed her and she could only watch as Rose valiantly continued with the impossible task of scooping out water. The poor girl was already shivering from her wet clothes and the chilly breeze.
There was a loud splash and they both turned to see the head of a man in the water surrounded by the radiating ripples from where he had jumped in.
Daniel. She offered up a thankful prayer to God. They would be saved.
Within a few seconds he’d made his way across to them and was clutching at the side of the boat.
‘Take Miss Haughton,’ Rose said. ‘I can swim.’ She had already removed her cumbersome skirts, and was now dangling her legs into the water. ‘Give Mr Thornbury your hand, miss.’
Daniel helped Eloise sit on the edge, even though this tipped the small vessel alarmingly. She took his strong hands and slipped into the freezing river, giving a shocked gasp as her body reacted to the temperature. Gripping her under the armpits and keeping her head above water, he managed to kick backwards and return her safely to the shore, where she clambered out, petrified by what had just happened and shaking uncontrollably.
He sat her down and placed his dry jacket about her shoulders. The clothes he was wearing, however, were sodden; they had obviously caught him either before or after his swim. Eloise watched Daniel return to the water’s edge and heave a bedraggled Rose from the water, allowing herself to revel in the lingering scent of him, as she dipped her head towards the woollen jacket. Her icy breath condensed before her face.
‘You choose to swim in that?’ she called out, pointing to the river. ‘You are a madman.’
‘It’s a shock to the system, I’ll grant you, but it certainly wakes you up, and is what my father describes as “bracing”. ’
‘Bracing?’ she squeaked. ‘A quick walk down to the postbox on a crisp winter morning is bracing. This nearly killed me.’
He caught her furious expression and a gentle smile spread across his face. It didn’t take her many moments to appreciate the humour of the situation. Perhaps it was indeed shock, perhaps relief, but soon the pair of them were laughing.
She had been attracted to this man from their very first meeting, and his challenging and defiant behaviour had only piqued her interest. But his strong arms about her body as he’d swum her back to the bank, and his concern for her wellbeing when he settled her on the grass, had only increased her ardour.
And when someone saves you like that, so dramatically, you are all but obliged to fall in love with them.
The village was rife with the news of the heroic rescue for days afterwards. Many of the locals, who had previously found the young man to be outspoken and opinionated, were now singing Daniel’s praises and prepared to overlook his radical politics. Even the vicar begrudgingly acknowledged that it was a truly Christian act.
It was generally agreed that, had he not been close by, Eloise would certainly have drowned. No one thought to consider why the women were rowing a boat across the river, or even whether Rose might have managed to save her mistress.
The young woman had been reprimanded and embraced all at once by her tearful father, after he’d raced down through the grove, having been alerted by a dripping-wet Daniel, who had gone for help as soon as he’d established both women were safe. Eloise took full responsibility; Rose had merely done as she was asked. She found some clothes she no longer needed and a small piece of jewellery to pass to the maid as a way of expressing her thanks, and saw to it that the girl had an extra shilling in her pocket that week. And yet, the whole thing had worked out far better than she dared hope. Although nearly dying certainly had not been part of her plan, the potential gravity of the situation had won over her parents. Her father, in particular, wondered how he would ever thank the young man enough for saving his precious child. Words alone were far from adequate.
‘I’ve been thinking about young Mr Thornbury,’ he said one morning, not many days after her dramatic escapade. He was home more often than not, rarely visiting the factory now, much to his wife’s delight, preferring to remain in picturesque Lowbridge than to travel to a dirty and industrial city. ‘A position has come up in the sole manufacturing department and I spoke to him about the possibility of employment. It is more skilled and better paid than his current job and, if he proves his worth, I will see to it that he progresses.’
Eloise let her embroidery frame drop to her lap.
‘You’ve visited the Thornburys?’ she asked.
‘He is an extraordinarily bright lad. I don’t much like his politics, but had he been born to more affluent parents, he could have made something of himself. And, as you have pointed out before, the circumstances of our birth are quite beyond our control. There’s something about the fellow that reminds me of my younger self, and I find I rather like him.’
Finally, her father saw his worth.
‘Thank you, Daddy.’ She gave her sweetest smile – the one reserved for those moments when she got her own way.
‘I know that look, young lady. Don’t be thinking of him as a potential suitor. I have gentlemen of much higher standing in mind for my beautiful and clever daughter. ’
We shall see, she thought to herself, as she nodded earnestly at her father and returned to her needlework.