Hope - Lesley Pearse [7]
So why did Lady Harvey lie with another man? Why shouldn’t she take the responsibility for her own sin, just as Nell and even Bridie would be expected to if they’d gone astray?
Yet even as these thoughts came to her, she knew she couldn’t bear to see Lady Harvey disgraced any more than Bridie could. She might be spoilt but she was mostly sweet-natured and generous. Nell couldn’t count the times she’d pressed a shilling into her hands to take home to her mother. She’d given her old clothes; let her sew little dresses and shirts for her brothers and sisters while she was supposed to be working. She had never struck her, never even grumbled when she was clumsy; just yesterday morning she’d thanked both Nell and Bridie for their loyalty and promised them that she’d always look after them.
The truth of the matter was that Lady Harvey was like a child in many ways. She had so much life and fun in her, but she was innocent too. This man, whoever he was, must have sweet-talked her when she was lonely. None of her family had visited since the master went away; she had no real friends of her own here in Somerset, only his friends. Nell could remember her crying when Sir William left for America; she’d wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let her. As Nell’s own mother so often said, ‘You have to walk a mile in someone else’s boots to know how it is for them.’
Thinking of her mother gave Nell an idea.
‘I could take baby home to my mother,’ she blurted out. ‘She’ll have milk to spare enough for this little one.’
‘She’s got too many of her own,’ Bridie said, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Besides, it’s too close to here. How would she explain where she got another?’
Nell got a mental picture of the overcrowded cottage and her mother already so tired with too many children, yet she knew the moment this one was in her arms she wouldn’t refuse. ‘People don’t count how many she’s got,’ she said truthfully. ‘They’ve got so used to her always having a new one in her arms they wouldn’t notice.’
‘But your father?’
Nell half-smiled. Her father’s only real fault was that he was over-generous in every way: with his labour, time and affection. When he had money he was generous with that too. Her mother often said that if he worked only the hours he was paid for, didn’t love her so much and saved the little money he had, they wouldn’t be in a tumbledown cottage with so many children. But Nell didn’t think Mother would have him any different.
‘Father likes babies,’ she said. ‘He’ll say one more won’t make no difference.’
Bridie dried her tears on her apron, but her eyes were still full of anxiety.
‘You can trust them not to talk,’ Nell said firmly, knowing that was what was on Bridie’s mind. ‘Even the bigger ones won’t know the truth. If I take her to Mother tonight after they’ve gone to bed, they’ll believe it was born while they were asleep.’
Bridie looked doubtful about that.
‘Mother has ’em quick,’ Nell insisted. ‘When our Henry was born last year they knew nothing till they heard him cry. I was with her, I know, and her belly’s so big from so many babbies they half-expects another to pop out any day.’
‘But it’s a secret that’s got to be kept for ever,’ Bridie reminded her.
Nell nodded; she understood that well enough.
‘The mistress did say a while ago that if it lived she wanted it to be farmed out,’ Bridie said softly. ‘She asked me to make enquiries, and I did go to see a woman in Brislington village about it. I didn’t like the woman, she were hard-faced and the children she had there were sickly-looking and dirty. At least we know your mother would take proper care.’
Bridie lapsed into silence, clearly weighing up all she knew of Meg and Silas Renton, and whether they were trustworthy. Nell said nothing more because she knew her family was held in high esteem around here.