Yes, Fruitcake I am still reading it. It’s very good. I wanted to read a few at once which is why I haven’t before & then I forgot where I’d got to so started again.
Please add more. They are lovely people to read about.
Thanks Tiff for your encouraging words.
[CENTER]Chapter 6 Part 1[/CENTER]
Since he had begun to take over management of the Knowl Estate, Philip had started visiting the tavern in the village of an evening every few weeks. Although outside the manor estate boundary, it was still owned by the Marsden family, but Philip always paid his way.
He never drank very much, although he enjoyed the ale that was brewed behind the tavern, because he used the place as his unofficial estate office.
Anyone with a problem knew that when he was there they could come and talk to him about it instead of the formal setting of the estate office at the manor.
On this particular day he recognised a man a few years older than himself, sitting alone, head down, disconsolately holding a tankard of beer. Upon enquiring of the landlord how long the man had been sitting there, he was told, “Two hours sir, and he is well into his cups.”
“Jonathan” Philip began as he and his friend William sat down, “whatever is the matter?”
Looking up, then closing one eye in an attempt to focus, the man mumbled almost too incoherently to follow, “I’ve lost her … father caught us kissing … hit me … had his manservant throw me out.” Looking up with tears in his eyes he continued, “Threatened to have me beaten ‘f I tried t’see her again. She’s your friend too. Can you help?”
Lady Charlotte Wardle was Philip’s oldest friend. She had been in love with her father’s footman since she was sixteen. Philip was the only other person in the world aware of this because Charlotte knew that her father, Sir Charles Wardle, would never approve. She had never even told Jonathan how she felt about him, at least, not until now.
She was almost twenty-one. Jonathan Clarke was twenty-four and had never given any indication of how he had felt about Charlotte before, but it was obvious now that he had fallen in love with her. The fact that they had kissed meant that they had both told each other about their feelings.
Had she been twenty-one, they could have run away together, eloped, and got married without needing her father’s consent, but now it was a problem. He would never allow his daughter out of his control.
Philip waved Mrs Rolands, the tavern keeper’s wife, over from behind the bar.
“Would you bring us some strong, sweet tea please. I need to try and flush two hours of beer out of this young man.”
Through slurred words, low howls of anguish, and several cups of tea, Jonathan related a terrible story.
Charlotte’s father wanted his daughter to marry a forty-three-year-old industrialist in exchange for him investing money in a business venture owned by Sir Charles. An agreement had been made, hands had been shaken, but Charlotte had not been consulted.
Every time Sir Charles had broached the subject, Charlotte said she would never agree. He flew into a rage, telling his daughter she must do as she was told. If she didn’t, she would be sent to live with an uncle on an island off the coast of Scotland, cut off without a penny, until she agreed to the union.
She told her father that it would be preferable to marrying a fat, bald man more than twice her age.
Two days later he had caught Charlotte in his study, kissing his footman. He struck him a stinging blow across the face and dismissed him on the spot, with threats of severe violence if he ever returned.
A suitable marriage. That’s what it was called, but in reality, it was all about the upper classes selling off their daughters to someone of supposedly equal status in order not to lose face. It was bad enough if a woman was encouraged to marry against her wishes, but when forced, it was rape and slavery. Philip vowed immediately to help his friend escape from this horror so she could be with the man she loved.
With much falling down and incoherent babbling, Philip and William managed to walk Jonathan the mile and a half to his mother’s house on the outskirts of the neighbouring town.
“I’ll call by tomorrow and see how he is doing,” Philip reassured Jonathan’s mother, “but the important thing now is not to let him anywhere near the Wardle estate. He will be beaten or worse if he tries, and I need him to stay away so I can work out how to resolve this problem.”
“Hide his shoes or clothes until I come back. Give them to your neighbours to make sure he doesn’t find them if you have to.”
“I have an idea, but it will be ruined if he sets foot on Wardle property.”
Two days later, Master Philip made a morning call at Wardle Mansion, knowing Sir Charles was out, and hoping he would be allowed to see Charlotte.
After an interminable wait, he was shown into a large, ornate reception room where he was presented to his friend’s mother.
He kept the conversation light, not mentioning what he knew, and thankfully after an hour of inane chatter, a maid was called to fetch Charlotte
His friend looked drawn as Philip greeted her, quickly whispering, “I know” as he kissed her on one cheek, then “say nothing” as he kissed her on the other.
After more inconsequential talk, Philip eventually said, “Lady Charlotte, you look pale. Perhaps a walk around the rose garden might help”, the last part spoken to Lady Wardle in an enquiring manner.
Thankfully, her mother agreed, but insisted that Daisy Dickens, Charlotte’s personal maid, and the butler who had thrown Jonathan out accompanied them.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 6 Part 2[/CENTER]
As he walked arm in arm with his friend around the rose beds, Philip pointed at them, at the trees, at the hills beyond, but his quiet words were of a completely different subject. “I have an idea.”
Looking past the maid, and making sure the butler was far enough away that he couldn’t hear, Philip asked “Daisy, are you willing to help? Don’t speak, just look down for a moment if you will”
She knew exactly what Philip was talking about, so a second later she looked down at one of the rose bushes before looking back up. Turning a corner to pass directly in front of the maid, Philip breathed, “you could be dismissed, and your husband too if you are caught.”
She pretended to adjust Charlotte’s collar as she quietly replied, “We’re moving to Roger’s parents so we can look after them as soon as Charlotte turns twenty-one. Don’t worry about us.”
Pointing at a hawk hovering over the Ha-Ha, Philip whispered, “Come to the manor as soon as you can.”
Four days later, Daisy Dickens called at the manor house kitchen where she was welcomed by the cook and her staff. After Philip’s visit to Wardle Mansion, Daisy had told him that the wedding date was already set, then told him when she had her next day off.
Charlotte’s maid was led to Albert’s study where Philip and his other friends were waiting.
Daisy began, “We have five weeks and two days weeks. Sir Charles intends for Charlotte to marry his business acquaintance at eleven o’clock on her twenty-first birthday at All Saints Church in the village.”
It’s all arranged. The vicar is in Charles’s pay and he will do whatever old Wardle says.
Noticing that Daisy had not used the lord’s title, Philip took over the conversation. “I need to show you all something”
Taking a large iron key from his father’s desk, he then walked to the wall opposite the study windows and slid a floor length tapestry aside to reveal an ordinary door, bolted at the top.
Passing through, the group were presented with a corridor running from left to right with heavy doors at each end, both bolted shut.
Pointing to the left Philip said, “That leads to a small high-walled yard, with a gate into the lane round the side of the manor.”
Indicating the door to their right he continued. “The other side of that door is hidden behind the old Welsh Dresser in the scullery.”
Opposite was another floor length tapestry. When slid aside, it revealed a low, fake Norman Arch complete with a heavy iron-studded oak door, which Philip now unlocked with the key he had been holding.
The click as the mechanism released was barely audible, and the door opened inwards with only a breath-like whisper of air.
“My brother and I found this when I was ten. There had been rumours of secret tunnels, but we never found them. Instead, we came across all this. It took us a month to find the key, and another week to get the door open. I cleaned and oiled the lock and hinges as soon as I found out about Charlotte and Jonathan.
“After you ladies and gentleman.”
There were gasps as they found themselves inside a beautiful but tiny chapel. Pews to seat ten, twelve at a squeeze, and three stone seats built into the lime-plaster walls on each side, painted with now faded whitewash.
A simple alter faced them with candle stubs in two plain brass holders. A few candle brackets were spaced along the walls. The only natural light came from a pair of arched stained-glass windows at the end.
A single door to the left led off to a tiny vestry with an iron-bound door on the far side, bolted from the inside, again leading to the small yard shielded from the lane to the side of the house.
“It was built a hundred and sixty years ago, twenty years after the manor was built, and hasn’t been used for fifty years. It can’t be seen from the lane, and until today, only my family knew about it.”
“I have written to the Bishop of the local Diocese and asked him to have it re-consecrated, dedicated again as a place of worship, and licenced for marriage.”
“He is sending someone here tomorrow. I told him why I wanted it doing, and the urgency, but I may have hinted that it was me that was marrying a lady who would otherwise be forced into a marriage she does not want.
“I shall of course explain the truth to the vicar upon his arrival. I offered to pay a … small contribution to the Diocese, and pay all the vicar’s expenses including travel, food, and lodging, as well as the wedding itself.”
“I also explained that I needed the lady’s Banns to be read here every week for four weeks as prescribed by law, and the wedding must begin no later than nine o’clock on the morning of her twenty-first birthday.”
Holding both of Millie’s hands, Philip said, “I need to ask you a favour. Charlotte is about your height and build; would you be willing to lend her a spare maid’s outfit? I will of course replace it with a new one.”
“I intend for Charlotte to smuggle herself out of her home each time the Banns are read, and for the wedding day itself, but she needs a disguise!”
Millie didn’t need to think about it. “Of course, I’ll fetch one straight away.”
“Bring everything. Dress, apron, cap, perhaps a duster and cloth or two.” After she had left, Philip turned to Daisy. “I need you to show her how to dress properly, how to act, especially turning her face to the wall when a family member walks by. We don’t do that here, but I know it is required at the mansion.”
“Hair tucked into her cap, a little beetroot juice rubbed on her cheeks. A slouch, a stoop! Teach her to stoop. Get her to lower her voice. Anything at all to make her unrecognisable.”
“Then I need you to teach her the safest way from anywhere in the house to the outside scullery door, and then she can away through the orchard.”
“She knows the grounds better than Sir Charles. Knows the safest routes, places to hide from when we played there as children.”
“She needs to practice getting out and back into the house. Tell her to head for the old rope swing each time. It’s not there now be she knows the tree.”
“William,” turning to his friend, “will you meet Charlotte each time, and return her? Take Millie as well of course,” receiving a firm nod in reply.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 6 Part 3[/CENTER]
“What about me?” asked Amanda.
“This place needs a good clean, but we have five weeks to do it, so don’t go mad at it. I’ll help when I can of course. I also need someone to let Charlotte and the others in here from the lane if I’m elsewhere, such as when I have to take care of the vicar.”
“She musn’t be seen by anyone. My parents know what is going on and are happy to help. They will allow you time to do what needs to be done, but can’t get involved in case someone realises there is something going on.”
Turning to Daisy Philip asked, “How did Roger get on with finding a key?”
To the others he explained that Charlotte was locked in her room at night so they needed a spare key, otherwise she would have to make a rope out of bedsheets and climb out her window. She was perfectly capable of doing this but there was a greater risk she would be caught if she had to go out that way.
“There are only two keys to her door,” Daisy began. Charles has one and his horrible butler has the other, and neither are ever left in the lock so can’t be copied. However, Roger has found a key that will open all the doors. I have hidden it in Charlotte’s room, and only the three of us know where it is.
Passing Daisy a piece of paper, Philip said, “Copy these dates and times. You must not carry anything about you in my handwriting.” Giving a wry look at Amanda he continued, “It is rather distinctive.”
Taking out a small notebook, Daisy quickly copied the information into it.
Holding up a piece of folded paper, Philip spoke very quietly, “This is Jonathan’s proposal of marriage to Charlotte. Keep it safe in your little book, then show it to her when she is alone. Once she has read it, she must burn it in the fire grate. Make sure it is completely consumed and then crumble the ashes to dust.”
“After that she needs to write her reply on a separate sheet of paper. Three words. His name, her answer, her name, then get it back here and I will get it to Jonathan.”
“Anything of value needs to be smuggled out because they won’t have much money after she leaves. Jewellery, clothes, silks, anything at all that won’t be noticed if it is missing.”
Millie came back with a bundle wrapped in a pillow case and handed it to Daisy. Philip hugged them both, and Amanda so she didn’t feel left out, clapped William on the shoulder, and then said, “We have a lot to do.”
Over the next few weeks, Charlotte slipped out of her home early of a morning and was back by six o’clock each time, three weeks in a row to be present in the Knowl Park chapel when her Banns were read.
Philip had explained to the visiting vicar that this had to be done very early in the morning when required, and he had been surprisingly accommodating, but then, he was being paid well.
He would arrive the afternoon before, enjoy Mrs Pearson’s excellent food, a glass of Albert Marsden’s finest brandy, then attend the chapel the following morning, given breakfast then sent on his way with a nice packaged lunch before arriving home by lunchtime and have the rest of the day off.
On the day of the wedding, Charlotte had slipped out early in the morning shortly after her door was unlocked by her father who had briefly looked in at her, then told her to ensure she was in her wedding dress by ten o’clock.
Five minutes after she left, Roger Dickens secured the door with his master key before shearing it off in the lock.
He and Daisy had quietly been removing their belongings a few at a time for storage at Knowl Manor for several weeks. They followed Charlotte as soon as her door was sealed and caught up with her at the tree where she and Philip used to play on a rope swing they had slung over a branch. After climbing into the back of an open wagon, William and Millie had covered them over before being driven as fast as was safe to the back of the Manor.
Philip had had a seamstress visit the manor very early one morning at great expense, to measure Charlotte on a day when her Banns were being read, and then make a bespoke dress for her.
Philip had insisted that his friend would not wear the dress her father had paid for, but would instead wear one she had chosen herself.
At nine o’clock on the morning of Charlotte’s twenty first birthday, Philip walked his fried down the short aisle of the Knowl Park private chapel to give her away.
Twenty minutes later she was in the tiny vestry, signing the chapel registry with Albert and Sarah as witnesses. A legally binding contract that “no man can set asunder”.
No Magistrate could argue with that
A brief wedding breakfast was held in the manor dining room, then the newlyweds headed off to a guest bedroom to change. Charlotte’s wedding dress and a few personal items would be kept safe there until she returned from her honeymoon.
Philip’s advice to Jonathan was to consummate the marriage as soon as possible if the couple had the time and inclination to finalise the legal requirements.
As he walked away he quietly said, there will be nobody anywhere near this wing for the next hour.
Master Philip had got to know the Station staff in the local town on his many travels to and from college over a period of three years. After Jonathan had been dismissed, Philip had asked if the Station Master knew of any jobs on the railway.
Two weeks later he reported back that a level crossing keeper position would be available four weeks hence, complete with a crossing keeper’s house. With a glowing reference from Albert and Philip Marsden, Jonathan Clarke secured the post and was due to move in with his new bride to start work a week after he was wed.
At ten thirty, as the village church clock struck the half-hour, William drove the Knowl Estate carriage with the Marsden crest through the village. By his side was Master Philip, and inside the carriage were their friends Millie and Amanda, as well as Jonathan and Charlotte.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 6 Part 4[/CENTER]
The vicar and several guests to the church wedding saw them as they flashed through the village, and later recounted this when quizzed by a furious Sir Charles after he had had his butler smash down Charlotte’s bedroom door, only to find the room empty.
Upon hearing this, Sir Charles set off to follow the carriage only to find his way blocked at the pack-horse bridge over the Watersmeet River by Arthur Presbury, who was having great difficulty in moving his horse and cart.
Jim’s horse didn’t understand any of the commands it was being given by its owner, so resolutely refused to move. In fact, Jim was deliberately using language the horse didn’t know because Master Philip had asked him to hold the bridge as soon as the wedding carriage passed through.
Master Philip stood on the station platform with three of his closest friends, waiting for Charlotte and Jonathan’s train to depart.
Suddenly there was a commotion as Sir Charles burst onto the platform shouting Charlotte’s name. He was furious, and when he saw Master Philip, he strode up to him demanding to know the location of his daughter.
Philip calmly replied, “Mrs Clarke is on her honeymoon sir.”
“Who the devil is Mrs Clarke, and I demand you tell me where my daughter is right now.”
“Why, Mrs Clarke is your daughter Charlotte of course. She married Jonathan Clarke earlier this morning”
“She can’t have" screamed Sir Charles, "I forbade her to marry that servant. She is supposed to be in church marrying Henry Strode right now.”
“Ah well” said Philip, “she married up at the manor house this morning where we have a private chapel. It’s in the same parish as your estate, my father’s estate, and the local church.
“She can’t have married. She hasn’t left the Wardle Estate in six weeks.”
“Well you see,” explained Philip, “I smuggled a maid’s uniform to her last month, and she has been slipping out through your scullery door every week to be present when her Banns were read. She left for good this morning just before you had breakfast. You actually walked right past her whilst she was standing with her face turned to the wall.”
“She can’t be married! I forbid it! Where is she right now?”
Gesturing towards the carriages next to the group Philip carefully explained to the man, “In a private train compartment with her new husband.” At that moment the guard blew his whistle, the engine driver blew his, and the train began to move.
Sir Charles ran to the last coach and climbed aboard, ignoring the guard’s protestations. The enraged Lord began to move through the train, shouting Charlotte’s name, opening compartment doors, forbidding her to marry “that servant” causing distress and mayhem as he went.
When he got to the last compartment of the leading carriage, he threw open the door and shouted at the young couple inside, then stopped in his tracks.
Meanwhile, Charlotte and her new husband looked out of the window and smiled as their train headed steadily in the opposite direction.
Moments before, the Station Master had asked Philip what was happening. “A man came at me, yelling something about forbidding his daughter to marry, and then boarded the Southbound train while it was moving.”
“I suspect he does not have a ticket, so it might be prudent to telephone the next station and have a constable standing by,”
Two days later, Sir Charles arrived at Knowl Park mansion in a blue fit. Against all common decency and etiquette, he forced himself into the hallway, shouting and demanding to see Master Philip, getting the standard reply, “I shall go and see if he is in”. Philip asked the butler to seat the visitor in the parlour, but then let him stew for a good fifteen minutes before he entered the room himself.
Sir Charles immediately stood and began to berate Philip, not allowing him to say a word for several minutes. When he was eventually spent, Philip responded in a low, hard voice.
“You wanted your only daughter to marry a man over twice her age simply so you could profit from their union. You intended to sell your daughter into slavery, to be raped on a daily basis by a fat old man, instead of letting her marry the man she loved.”
“How could you? How could any man do that to their only child? You disgust me sir!”
Picking up a newspaper open at the Announcements page, Philip began to read, “Yesterday, Lady Charlotte Wardle married Jonathan Clarke, an employee with the Great Western Railway, both being residents within the parish of Lansdown. The small ceremony took place in a private chapel at Knowl Park Manor which resides within the parish. The wedding and blessing were performed by the Reverend Thomas Vickery from the Diocese of the Bishop of Bath and Wells.”
Putting the paper down, Philip continued, “The world now knows that your daughter is legally married. My father has spoken to his friend who is the local Magistrate about this matter. If any harm comes to your son-in-law, I will make it known what you tried to do, and you can then expect a visit from the Peelers.”
“You know me sir. You have known me since I was three. You know I do not lie.”
“Now get out and never come back here. Do I make myself clear?”
Philip and his friends visited the newlyweds on their return from a brief honeymoon, and helped them move in to the crossing keeper’s house.
Philip then related the tale of Sir Charles arriving on the Southbound platform near the station entrance, after the friends had said goodbye to the bride and groom on the Northbound train, and then crossed back over the iron footbridge.
Upon enquiry, a constable had indeed intercepted Sir Charles at the next station. Since he was irate, had no train ticket, had entered every compartment on the train and disturbed all the passengers in the process, and had no means of identification, he had spent the night in the local gaol before being allowed back home.
This had angered him beyond all reason which is why he had called to see Philip the following day, but had come off second best.
© January 2021
That is a lovely story.
Three more chapters to go then that will be it, unless I can think of something to slip in another story before the last chapter, because that has a very specific ending.
Looking forward to reading the next chapters, Fruitcake.
I have begun to write Chapter 7, the ending of Chapter 8 is complete, and the end of the story is written.
I have a germ of an idea about a chapter I could possibly slip in between either chapter 7 and 8, or 8 and 9, but since it is a new idea it will take me a while to write it. I can’t keep doing it though as it will mess up the end of the story otherwise.
The Epilogue is also complete.
[CENTER]Chapter 7 Part 1[/CENTER]
Annette Carlton didn’t recognise Clara at first when she was introduced to the “new girl” by Mrs Beasley, only realising who she was when she saw the two people who accompanied her.
It was the same young man and the maid who had brought in a scared looking skinny girl in torn clothes with a bruise on her face a few weeks before.
Now the girl was smiling, had on a simple but new grey dress, and looked to have put on a little weight.
Mrs Beasley had told Annette later who the man was, and who the others were that had been with him that day. Although not ugly, Annette did not think the man was good looking either, yet there was something about him that she liked.
She had met arrogant sons of the landed gentry before, but this man seemed completely different, ordinary even, but acted like a gentleman should.
She had seen that he obviously cared for the maid, but really couldn’t work out their relationship. Not lovers, not brother and sister, cousins perhaps. Yes, that was it, they must be cousins. Nothing else made sense.
She had become confused then when Mrs Beasley said they weren’t related, but were actually best friends. Annette could not understand that idea at all.
She did like the new girl. She was hard working and always willing to help out, even if she was busy herself, but when quizzed about the young man and the maid, she couldn’t provide any useful information at all.
She just said that this Master Philip was friends with the all the youngest members of the household where he lived, but never gave the impression that he was interested in any of the women there, or anywhere else for that matter.
Annette had heard about men that liked other men, but found it hard to believe that applied to this one. Apparently, he had turned twenty-one this year and just finished college, so perhaps he was only just now starting to look for a wife.
Annette knew she was not as good looking as the blonde girl who had been with the handsome man when they had joined the group before, but she did believe she was a lot better looking than the maid, who was quite plain from a distance, although looked prettier close to.
As a result, she decided she would see if she could get to know the young man better should he return. If his friends were servants, she thought there might be no reason to assume he wouldn’t be interested in one as a wife.
Since Clara had started there, this Master Philip had come in every week to check up on the girl he had rescued. Many members of the upper classes would have ignored it, considered it none of their business, even thought there was nothing wrong in the actions of the girl’s employer, but not this one.
It was wrong, so he did something about it. Annette admired that, both the rescue, and his concern afterwards.
Sometimes he came with his friends, but never just the brown-haired girl on her own. Twice he had come with an older man who Mrs Beasley introduced her to as Philip’s father, and once with an older woman as well whom she correctly guessed she was his mother. Several times he had come on his own.
Annette always tried to be the one to seat and serve him, no matter who else he was with, and especially when he was on his own.
He seemed to like her, or at least she thought so. He was always friendly, and always open to talk, although he never initiated a conversation. He didn’t give much away, but over several visits she teased out a few snippets about him and about his three friends.
“On your own today is it sir” would be her cheery opening gambit, or sometimes, “will your friends be joining you later sir?”
She had been pleased enough that he only ever referred to the other three young people as his friends, and especially so when he referred to the youngest of the three as his best friend. Not a hint of romance in anything he said.
Most young men she knew, or who came in, were want to show off their young ladies, but not him, so either he had no sweetheart, or never talked about her. She couldn’t imagine that he was having a romantic relationship with anyone else because she couldn’t imagine another woman tolerating him having other female friends. She certainly wouldn’t.
The Tea Room was normally a quiet place. The odd tinkle of a spoon, the occasional muted clatter from the kitchen, and a gentle murmur of conversation around the tables.
Today was different, at least as far as one of the tables was concerned. She could get into trouble if caught eavesdropping on the customer’s conversation, but couldn’t help overhearing some of what one man in particular had said.
As Annette passed to and fro between the tables, she heard snippets of conversation, and her ears picked up certain words and phrases being used.
“It’s scandalous … Sir Charles (mumble) … Philip Marsden … interfering … Lady Charlotte … married a common manservant … outrageous!”
Then in quieter tones, a woman whom Annette presumed was the loud man’s wife who was holding a folded newspaper in her hand began commenting on something written within.
“Married at Knowl Park … private chapel … Reverend (somebody or other) … Bishop … Diocese of Bath and Wells … legally married.”
The debate continued for some time with several other customers giving the man filthy looks because of the noise, and others obviously straining to hear what had happened.
One young couple who were deep in a private conversation, heads close together in almost a conspiratorially manner, kept glancing across at the older couple who by now were having an obvious argument.
All of this seemed very strange to Annette, not least because she knew that in a lot of upper-class households, a man’s wife was discouraged from reading newspapers. For the woman to have one, and not only to hold an opinion about its contents, but to express it in public to her husband did her heart glad. It’s about time some women stood up to their menfolk in her opinion.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 7 Part 2[/CENTER]
Suddenly the couple at the noisy table stopped talking. Looking across the room, Annette realised that Philip Marsden had entered the Tea Room and was quietly waiting to be seated. She didn’t know how long he had been there, not very long she deduced, but probably long enough for him to hear himself being talked about. As far as she could tell, he was faintly amused by the whole thing.
She quickly went to him, completely forgetting to ask if anyone was going to join him, and showed him to a table. He ordered a pot of tea for one straight away, so that at least answered that question. As had become his habit, he also asked after Clara, and if Mrs Beasley was available.
The noisy man was giving Philip vile looks. At one point he started to rise, and Annette was convinced he was going to confront the young man, but the older woman put a hand on his arm and told him to sit down again.
The serving girl was surprised and pleased after bringing Philip his tea when he audaciously raised his cup to the other man in a toast, and then smiled before taking a sip. This brought more mutterings from the older man, and the words, “ … mocking me” drifted faintly across the room.
A few minutes later, Mrs Beasley came out with Clara, and Philip greeted them both with a hug. After a brief conversation to confirm that all was well, he sat down to finish his tea as the two women went back to the kitchen.
Moments later, the young couple stood and walked over to Philip, the woman making sure she could see both him and the older couple.
“Excuse me sir, are you Philip Marsden?”
Immediately standing, he replied, “Yes Miss, I am.” Acknowledging the young man standing next to her, he said, “How may I help you both?”
Holding out her gloved hand towards Philip, she raised her chin and her voice to boldly thank Philip for helping Lady Charlotte, as it helped her avoid a similar fate. At this the older man gave a low hiss, earning him a glare from his wife.
Philip took the proffered hand and shook it gently, noting the woman’s firm grip at the same time.
“How so, may I ask?”
“My name is Caroline Footman-Jones, and this is my frien …”, pausing momentarily before continuing, “my fiancé, Walter Fotherby.”
“My father is not a bad man, but like Lady Charlotte’s father, he wanted me to marry someone of … my own status.”
“Unlike Sir Charles, he did not threaten to banish me to a Scottish island without a penny, nor threaten to beat the man I love if I refused.” This brought gasps from several of the tea room patrons, “He did however try to sway my mind.”
“I did not want to disappoint him or displease him, and I almost agreed to the union. Unlike the man Sir Charles wanted his daughter to marry, the man my father wanted me to wed was not twice my age, nor fat, nor bald.”
This brought another gasp.
“In fact, the man was my own age, kind, and quite good looking. It’s just that, well, I didn’t love him.”
“Once I heard about Lady Charlotte marrying someone from below stairs for love, it emboldened me, so I went to speak to my father. I explained that I loved Walter, and had done for several years.”
Looking at the ordinary young man next to her, she smiled before going on. “I said, Papa, Walter makes me laugh, he makes me happy, and surely that is what you want for me as well? He has a good job with good prospects in an office, and we shall be perfectly happy in a small house somewhere nice.”
“Father asked me if I was sure and I said yes, and so he agreed. I went straight to Walter to tell him the good news, and do you know the first think he did?”
“He got to his knees and proposed. Of course I could do nought but say yes.”
Turning to Walter, Philip vigorously shook the man’s hand saying, “Bravo! Well done sir, and congratulations to you both”
Caroline blushed slightly as several other people clapped briefly and offered their congratulations as well, before turning back to Philip.
“If you had not helped Lady Charlotte so, I would never have had the courage to tell my father how I felt about this lovely man here.” It was now Walter’s turn to blush.”
“Thank you again sir, and I hope you find the happiness yourself that you so richly deserve.”
After the couple had left, Philip sat down again and with a smile asked for a fresh pot of tea, “ … as this one seems to have gone cold in all the excitement.”
Later that day, Harold Fergusson was in the process of checking the post in his master’s study whilst Philip was looking over estate paperwork.
“I wasn’t aware there was a wedding taking place in the village today sir”
Looking up, Philip replied, “That’s Old Tom, the tenor bell. A wedding would be a peel of all six bells.”
At the same instant, both men exclaimed, “It’s an Alarm!”
Looking out the window, the butler shouted, There’s a fire in the village. Philip trusted the old gent implicitly, and didn’t waste time going to the window to check for himself.
“I’ll get William. You get everyone down there who can fetch a bucket!
Running through the house to the stables, bellowing about the fire as he went, he rushed into the stable yard where his father was leading his horse after returning from town.
“Fire in the village,” shouted Philip as he took his father’s horse. Looking at William as he got ready to ride out, he shouted, “Hitch a wagon, wait for Harold then get everyone down there.”
The horse wasn’t used to a such a good gallop, and by the time it hared out through the stone pillars of the estate, it was thoroughly enjoying itself. How it wished the other rider would let him do this.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 7 Part 3[/CENTER]
A disorganised crowd of people were gathered around the village pump, getting in each other’s way as they all tried to fill buckets and bowls at once before running towards the church.
Others were filling anything that would carry water from the pumps in their own home, but in just a haphazard manner as everyone else. All were trying to do the same thing, but knocking into each other in the process.
Philip could now see that the old Tithe Barn was well alight at one end. No longer used to collect taxes for the church, it was however used by the vicar and other villagers for storage and a stable, thankfully at the opposite end to the fire.
The vicar was doing a valiant job of rallying the locals, but failed miserably. The Reverend Jopson had replaced the previous vicar who had taken bribes from Sir Charles Wardle in an attempt to marry off Philip’s friend against her will.
“Get the horses out, get the horses out!” Philip shouted, grabbing two men at once as he did so before shoving them in the direction of the door where the sounds of terrified beasts could be heard.
Realising the importance of this, the two men immediately ran off to do as ordered. Bellowing at the vicar to make himself heard above all the other shouting, he called out,
“Get them to form a line, a bucket chain. Pass the buckets from hand to hand, not run with them. Men at the front, women behind.”
“Go, they will listen to you sir!”
Running back to the village pump, Philip tried to organise the other end of the chain. Then all of a sudden, William was there, shouting orders, taking charge, nudging people with the horse’s flank as he skilfully herded the villagers whilst riding bareback, one-handed so he could point with the other.
“Ladies!” Shouted William, fetch your baths. Put them here and at the force pump!”
“Bring cloths to put on the buckets to stop spillage!”
“Geoff, get on the force pump, Phil, help him”
“Dolly, get people filling the baths. Use bowls, save buckets for the fire.”
No, “Mr Prentice”, “Master Philip”, or “Mrs Rolands” today. Short sharp words from William. Niceties and extra vowels cost seconds.
After Philip had got the three men who had attacked his friend Amanda to build a cistern up at the nearby spring, he had surveyed the ground to see if a water pipe could be run down to the village, but the terrain wasn’t suitable for such a venture.
As an alternative, Philip had hired a water diviner to find a deep source of water. He knew from his school lessons that a lift pump like the communal one in the village, and people’s houses, could only lift water from no deeper than about thirty feet and would dry up if there was another drought. “One atmosphere” he remembered being told by his teacher of the sciences.
A force pump could lift water from much deeper, and on each stroke, not just the down stroke. The diviner declared he had found a spot just off the village square with water at about sixty feet, and likely to be a different source to that feeding all the other pumps around.
The locals, especially the children, were thrilled to see a drilling rig brought in, belt driven from the flywheel of a ferocious and frightening traction engine. Three days later they struck water at a depth of fifty-six feet, and a force pump was installed. Everyone including the water diviner was thanked and paid well for his work.
The problem was, the villagers didn’t like the new pump. Oh, it would fill a bucket in two pumps of the handle, much faster than the lift pumps everyone was used to, but it was much harder to use.
The pump handle needed to be twice as long to produce the same effort, which meant that it needed someone taller and stronger than many of the villager to use it.
With the handle in the up position, children would sometimes jump up and hang onto the iron loop at the end, then several more would do the same until the pump suddenly worked, lowering the gleeful children to the ground and shooting water all over them at the same time.
Today though, this new-fangled machine came into its own. First Geoff Prentice, then Master Philip, then Dolly Rolands, who was used to handling beer barrels and tankards full to the brim, all took turns to pump water.
Young women and some of the older children worked out a rhythm of filling bowls and buckets to then fill the galvanised baths that had been placed close by, whilst more women and a few men dragged their buckets through the baths to scoop water out and pass it down the chain.
William had several of the young lads running to the far end of the chain to retrieve the empty buckets and discarded cloths back to the pumps, with a dire warning not to go near the fire.
Young girls were encouraged to take the empty buckets from the boys and hand them in turn to the adults who were filling them, then throw a cloth over each one once full, ready to be passed back along the chain.
During this time, people were pouring in from all around the village. Harold arrived, driving the cart that William had hitched, with Albert and Sarah aboard, along with every able member of staff.
Amanda gazed in amazement at William, shouting orders like he did this every day, Millie beaming with pride beside her.
Relieved for a minute or two from pumping, Philip trotted up to his two friends before playfully patting Amanda on her rump, saying “No time to dawdle girls, help on the bucket chains.” This made Amanda jump at first, then smile from the intimacy, glad in knowing that her friend was safe.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 7 Part 4[/CENTER]
Having got a second chain running from the force pump, William concentrated on the fire itself. He had told some of the older women to fetch sheets and blankets, soaked in water, ready to throw over anyone who got burned.
He also got a couple of teenage boys standing off with buckets of water to throw over the men at the most dangerous part of the chain every so often to keep them cool whenever they called out, and to put out any stray sparks that might catch in their hair or clothing.
The men themselves had formed a small loop as if they were dancing around a Maypole, so they were only close to the fire every fourth or fifth bucketful.
“Everyone, watch the person in front of you. Make sure they are not afire!”
William was sure the whole barn would be lost, but it appeared to be burning at the same rate rather than running completely out of control. It was no longer gaining, but they were not gaining on it. The most important job now was to stop the fire spreading to any other buildings to prevent injury or damage.
When more people arrived, he got them soaking anything that looked like it might burn, starting at the nearest building, keeping them at it whilst he got more newcomers to check further out.
Davey Stanmore, the Stonemason’s son who had been one of Amanda’s attackers appeared at the force pump, along with a few other men from his father’s yard. Beside them were men employed by the local Carpenter. They all carried tools of their trade; hammers, axes, an adze, and some saws.
To Philip’s surprise it was Davey who spoke. “We think if we cut through the roof in the middle and push the right-hand wall onto the fire, we might at least be able to save the stable and slow the fire a bit. Starve it of things to burn, like.”
Philip was stunned for a moment, then clapped his former adversary on the shoulder whilst pointing towards the barn. “Tell William what you propose. Get yourselves well doused before you start, and keep it that way.”
As the men moved off, Philip shouted, “Hoy, Davey, don’t get yourself killed.”
The slightly older man touched his forehead with his right forefinger before turning to catch up with the others.
It worked. The old clay tiles had been stripped off, cross-beams and hammer beams had been cut through, and everything combustible that could be moved or removed was thrown to one side and dragged away by more men.
William ordered everyone back, and to hold up water-soaked sheets as a shield once Davey told him the wall was weakened enough. It fell in four sections onto the white-hot core of the fire.
Sparks, burning slivers and splinters of wood and stone whooshed their way out through a cloud of dust and smoke. Seconds later, William ordered the bucket chain to start again. As the dust cleared, it could be seen that half of the fire was now out.
After another thirty minutes, the fire was under control, and finally out bar damping down an hour or so later.
Everyone was exhausted, and now people began milling around again, searching out family, friends and neighbours. There would be no rejoicing until everyone was accounted for.
Philip heard someone calling his name. “Over here, Kenneth!” Relief flooded his brother as they came face to face. Are you hurt, are mother and father here?
When they were all together, Kenneth said, “Someone rode to the town to fetch a doctor. When my employer heard this, he sent me here in case I could help.”
Kenneth was training to be an Apothecary, and had brough salves and bandages in case anyone was burned.
Albert said, “I think the vicar is sending anyone who is hurt to the Rectory. We’ll meet you there once we are sure all our staff are safe.”
Turning to his youngest son, he continued, “Go and find your friends. We’ll see you later.”
William was sitting on a wall by the horse trough, looking absolutely spent when Philip found him. A few minutes later, Millie was by his side, and Philip found himself being hugged by Amanda. For around a minute, the pair just stood there, holding each other tight, not saying a word.
Suddenly she stiffened and Philip turned to see what had caused this. Standing a little way off was Davey Stanmore, soot streaked and looking as tired as everyone else, with the group of masons and carpenters a little behind him.
Holding his friend close with an arm around her waist, Philip spoke into Amanda’s ear, “He cut through the roof to put the fire out. It was his idea. It doesn’t make up for what he did to you, but I think he has changed his ways.”
Geoff and Rose Prentice arrived to stand with their daughter. Looking first at Davey, then the men with him the Blacksmith said, “I heard what you did. That was well done. Looking at the others he went on, “All of you, it was well done.”
With a nod, Davey acknowledged the comment and then joined the other men.
Hours later, Albert stood on a table outside the Tavern and told the assembled villagers that a new barrel of ale was to be broached in their honour, and he was footing the bill.
After everyone calmed down, he went on to say that there had been many people injured, mostly with minor burns, cuts, and bruises. The most serious injury he knew about had been one of the stonemasons who had fallen through the roof and broken his arm, but thankfully it wasn’t a bad break and the doctor from the town expected him to make a full recovery.
The comment was met with cheers and applause.
Albert then called for the vicar to come up. “Well done on raising the alarm. I suggest Old Tom has never worked so hard in his life.
Modestly, the vicar stood on the table and said, “Actually it was young Johnny Johnson and his sister Esther who raised the alarm.”
"I was in the Rectory garden when the lad came running down the slope from the meadow behind, his little legs pumping as fast as you like, bellowing “Fire, fire,” and pointing at the old barn, with little Esther following and doing the same.”
I told him to tell the Blacksmith as I knew everyone respects him and would listen to him, then I went to the church and roused Old Tom.”
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 7 Part 5[/CENTER]
“Well, it worked, said Master Philip. “I missed my afternoon nap as a result.” This brought light laughter and a few ribald comments about Philip now being an old man. “I’ll call in at the confectioners next time I am in town, Mrs Johnson permitting,” he continued. "Those two youngsters deserve to be rewarded.”
Albert then turned to William and began to speak. “There is another person we should thank today. How did you know what to do?" then stopping dead as he realised the young man was shuddering and quietly sobbing.
Millie was beside him in a flash, holding his hand, whispering comforting words in his ear.
After a few moments she stood and rested her hand William’s shoulder. She always spoke softly, but right now everyone was surprised at the clarity and strength of her voice.
“When he was twelve, he saw the same thing happen. The manufactory where his father worked caught fire. He watched his Dad start a bucket chain, take charge, organise the men.”
“He watched his father go inside twice to help his workmates get out, but the second time, the roof collapsed with his father still inside. It broke his mother’s heart and she died a year later. That’s when he came here. We’re his family now.”
Nobody said anything for a moment, then Millie held out her hand and spoke again, but softly this time. “Come on Will, let me walk you home.”
Amanda put her hand in Philip’s, saying, “I never knew.”
Philip squeezed her hand before replying, “Neither did I.”
Then to everyone’s surprise, the vicar climbed up on to the table again and spoke. “I have a tale to tell you all. The tale of the most unusual proposal of marriage I have ever come across.”
“I am not breaking a confidence as the happy couple have given me permission to tell anyone who is willing to listen.”
It transpired that after the fire started, some of the wood exploded in a loud crack and shower of sparks, causing a horse to bolt. On its own that wouldn’t have been a problem, but this horse was still in the shafts of a cart at the time.
The owner of the horse and cart, a man by the name of Terry Godley, attempted to stop it, but as the horse fled by, the man became impaled upon one of the shafts, passing right through his abdomen.
This was witnessed by his next-door neighbour, Maisy Peterson, who screamed at the sight of horse, man and cart hurtling through the village.
Maisy and Terry had been born twenty-eight years ago on the same day, an hour apart, in cottages next door to each other. They had grown up together, played in the mud together, gone to school together, fought and made friends again hundreds of times over the years.
Many people thought they were brother and sister because they fought and made up so much.
Now Maisy was running through the village, screaming Terry’s name, tears running down her face.
Eventually she caught up with the cart, the horse too tired to run any further. Maisy stopped running when she saw Terry, slumped and lifeless over the horse’s back.
She walked slowly up to him, noticing the he had lost a boot, his stocking and the foot within it torn and bleeding. Nuzzling the side of his head with her own she whispered, “Oh Terry, now I’ll never get the chance to tell you how much I love you.”
Then she screamed when he asked, “Why not?”
“But, your … I saw you … how… ?” Looking down she then saw that the shaft had pierced his shirt but had actually missed him completely. Instead, he had become wedged between the horse and the wood, and then been carried along helplessly as the beast ran off.
Wincing as he finally pulled himself free, holding onto Maisy for support he said, “I love you Maisy. I’ve always loved you. I …will you marry me?” then his voice was cut off as Maisy kissed him.
“Shut up you oaf. I love you too, and yes I will marry you but never …” he winced as she thumped him on his chest, “ever …” another thump, “do that to me again”.
By the time the vicar had finished relating this tale, everyone around him was laughing.
As he climbed down, Philip shook him by the hand before saying, “That was exactly what everyone needed right now.”
Slipping his arm round his best friend’s waist he said, “Come on Miss ’Manda, let me walk you home. We’ll come back tomorrow to help clear up.”
As they walked towards the gates of Knowl Park, the vicar wondered if he would ever get to hear of this young man’s proposal to the girl by his side.
He didn’t know them well, but he knew their story. He knew the poor girl was desperately in love with her friend, but he was apparently not in love with her, despite the closeness of their relationship.
© January 2021
Read it, 
Any good?
Three more chapters to go, all part writ.
It’s very readable, Fruitcake.
Chapter 8 is writ. I will post it once I have proof read it and chopped it into five parts as before.
Chapters 8 and 9 are half writ, The Epilogue and a Post Script are complete. I intend to include some author’s notes about the ideas and characters in the stories, as some of them really happened or existed.