The Black Velvet Gown Read online

  Silently she stopped the children sitting on the couch and directed them to a long backless upholstered seat set at right angles to the fireplace which showed a pile of ashes in which were buried half-burnt logs.

  Seating herself on the edge of a chair opposite the children, she smoothed her skirt over her knees, opened the two buttons of her three-quarter-length serge coat in order that her bright blue blouse should be in evidence and show her proposed employer that she was neat and tidy. Finally, she tucked her hair swiftly behind her ears, felt that her hat was absolutely straight on her head, then joined her hands on her lap and waited.

  A minute was a long time to wait when four pairs of eyes were staring questioningly at you. But when five minutes passed and the children began to move restlessly on the seat, she unclasped her hands and with a raised finger cautioned them to silence; then her hand became transfixed by the sound of a voice coming from the far end of the room. For the first time she noticed that there was a door in the side wall and the voice was coming from there. It was somewhat muffled, yet the words were still clear: ‘No, Fanny. No. ’Tis blackmail. That’s all it is, blackmail. I’ve told you, no.’

  ‘An’ I’ve told you, Mr Miller, an’ for the last time, I can’t make the journeys no more. If it wasn’t for Tol I wouldn’t be here now. And he’s riskin’ somethin’, cartin’ me mornin’ and night. If them up at The Heights get wind of it, he could be for the push. An’ look at me leg, it’s as big as me body. Now, you either take her an’ her tribe on or you’re left alone to fend for yourself, ’cos nobody in their right senses’ll come here an’ look after this place for what you have to offer them.’

  ‘Is that my fault, Fanny? Is it? Is it?’

  ‘Yes, it is. In a way, yes it is, ’cos come quarter time you’ve enough money for books, beer, and baccy.’

  ‘Oh, leave me my breath. What else have I to live for?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Miller, don’t make me say it again.’

  The man’s voice now fell to almost a mutter as he said, ‘And don’t make me say it again. Fanny. What good am I in the outside world? I’ve tried it, haven’t I?’

  ‘I can’t understand you. I can’t, Mr Miller.’

  ‘Well, that’s a pity. Fanny. That’s a pity. I thought you were the only one who could. But about this woman. You say she’s got four children? My God! And you think I’ll take on a woman with four children? For fifteen years I tried to knock sense into the…’

  ‘Oh, shut up, will you? Shut up. I’ve heard your whinin’ until I’m sick of it. Now, you’re seein’ this woman or I walk out, not this evenin’ after I’ve made your meal, but now, along of her an’ her tribe. Now I say to you, you’ve got no other option. No, you haven’t, Mr Miller. No, you haven’t.’

  There followed a long silence during which the children, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, stared at Riah while she, her head turned slightly, kept her eyes fixed on the door at the far end of the room. Then the voices began again.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘They’re two lads and two lasses.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Well, I think the boy seems about twelve and the youngest, I should say, five or six. The two lads you could set clearin’ on outside. They’ve likely been used to work. As for the lasses, well, this house could do with a couple of lasses to help muck it out.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Pleasant, youngish, capable looking.’

  There followed another silence; and then the man’s voice, which held a deep plea in it now, said, ‘Oh, Fanny, you don’t know what you’re asking. You really don’t know what you’re asking me to do.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mr Miller. Go on…go on, have a look at them.’

  The few minutes seemed a long time before the door opened and a man entered the room.

  The four children turned their heads towards him, and it was to them he looked first, not at Riah. When he did look at her he was about two yards from her. She had risen to her feet and they surveyed each other like combatants before a battle. She saw that he was a man in his mid-forties, perhaps nearing fifty, she would say. He had a round face and fair hair with a slight bald patch on the top of his head. He was of medium height and, although not fat, was inclined to thickness. After having listened to his voice, she had expected a tall, very imposing figure; the man before her appeared like a gentle creature, rather shy. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone quite like him at all. She hadn’t come across many gentry with whom to compare him, but she would have said he belonged to that class.

  When he said hesitantly, ‘You…you’re wanting a position?’ she answered, ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You…you are a widow?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Your children, can they work?’ He turned now and his eyes rested on Davey, and she said. ‘Yes. Yes, sir. My son David, he’s comin’ up eleven and he’s been workin’ in the fields for the past three years. And Bridget’—she inclined her head—‘she’s very good at housework. She is coming up ten. She too has been working for the past three years.’ What made her utter the next words she never knew, but she said, ‘An’ they’re both learned; they can read and write, sir.’

  His head came quickly round to her as he said, ‘Indeed. Indeed…What was your husband?’

  ‘He was a miner, sir.’

  His eyebrows moved slightly upwards. ‘A miner? A coal miner?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And your children…can read and write? Did they go to school?’

  ‘No, sir. My husband taught them.’

  His eyebrows moved further upwards and he said, ‘Your husband taught them? And he was a miner? And he could read and write? May I ask who taught him?’

  ‘A Methodist man in Gateshead, sir.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. What is your name?’

  ‘Mrs Millican, sir. Maria Millican.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Millican, I must be plain with you. I’m a man of very poor means. And I couldn’t afford to engage you and your children at the wage you would likely require. Mrs Briggs has four shillings a week and her food. You, I am sure, would not consider that enough for your services and those of your family.’

  Four shillings for the lot of them. It was nothing, but at the present moment if he had suggested that she worked for their board and lodgings only she would have accepted. She said quickly, ‘I would be pleased to accept your offer, sir.’

  ‘You would?’ He half turned from her, one shoulder moving as if with the twitch; then, looking at her again, he said, ‘It is nothing.’

  ‘I’ll…I’ll be grateful for it at the present, sir, and we would do our best to serve you well.’

  She was surprised to see him sit down in a chair and, resting his elbow on the table, lean his head on his hand; then, after a moment during which they all stood staring at him, he rose and, without first looking at them, he turned from them, saying, ‘See Fanny; she’ll tell you what to do.’ And he walked up the room again and through the door, and as it closed on him the other door opened and the old woman hobbled in, her face bright, her lips pursed and her hands beckoning them towards her.

  When they reached her all in a bunch, she said, ‘’Tis done then. Come.’ And with that she led them back into the hall, through a heavy oak door into a stone passage, through another door and into the kitchen.

  Riah took in three things immediately about the kitchen: it was very big; it was cluttered and dirty; the barred fire of the iron cooking stove had a hob attached to its top bar. ‘Sit yourself down’—Fanny pointed to the table—‘and I’ll make you a drink. Would you like tea?’

  ‘Tea?’ Riah muttered the word and Fanny said, ‘Aye, tea, real tea. He gets it in Newcastle but it comes from China. It’s the one luxury in this house. But I’m not partial to it meself; too scenty like.’ And then she went on, ‘Well now, you’re all set, and it’s up to you.’

  ‘Where will we sleep?’

  As Riah slapped Biddy’s arm gently for as
king the question Fanny nodded at her and in a broad toothless smile she said, ‘Practical one you are, aren’t you? Well then, I’ll answer you. There’s a hayloft outside. But better than that, along at the low end’—she motioned with her head to a door leading off by the side of a dresser—‘there’s half a dozen rooms along there that haven’t been slept in for many a long year. But they are like Paddy’s market, full up with this, that an’ the other. Anyway, it’ll be one of your first jobs to clear one of them and get settled for the night. But first I’ll make you a drop of tea and then I’ll take you round. It’s a hoppity-hoppity house; you’ve got to get used to goin’ up a step an’ down a step that you didn’t know was there. That’s what’s worn me legs out over the past ten years. I never meant to take this on, you know.’ She was nodding at Riah now as she poured some boiling water into a cream china teapot which was stained brown around the lid. ‘You see, me old man was gardener here for years, an’ his father afore him. That was when there was only the house standing, this middle one, an’ it was of no size as these houses go, just ten main rooms. But there was about thirty acres of land then, but now it’s down to three. The odd bits on the sides were built by Mr Miller’s father when he was young. I always says that the builder must have been drunk at the time, but my old man said it was to get the levels of the ground as it slopes away at the side like. Anyway, now they amount to twenty-five rooms altogether, an’ that’s not countin’ larders and cellars an’ the like. An’ how many does he use…Mr Miller? Two mostly; one if he got his own way, ’cos he lives in the library room most of his time an’ sleeps in it more often than not on the couch. He’ll be found dead in there one of these days, I tell him. Eeh, by!’ She now poured a small amount of milk into six cups she had brought from a cupboard; then as she filled them with the black tea she added, ‘I never thought I’d bring it off, not really, ’cos he’s agen people: never sees anybody but Parson Weeks and Miss Hobson from The Heights, or when he goes once a quarter into Newcastle to pick up his allowance. And more often than not those times he can hardly walk back from the coach road. But then on quarter days Tol keeps a lookout for the coach and generally picks him up from it. I don’t know what we’d do without Tol. He keeps us stocked up with wood and he drops the milk in most mornings except when the weather’s very bad an’ he can’t get through.’

  ‘Tol…it’s a funny name.’

  Riah looked warningly at Biddy, but again the old woman smiled as she said, ‘Aye, I suppose it is.’

  ‘What’s his second name?’

  ‘Briston, Tol Briston…Is there anything more you’d like to know, miss, or would you like to wait and ask him?’ She was laughing down on Biddy now, and Biddy lowered her head as her mother said, ‘I’m sorry she speaks out of turn.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t give you tuppence for any bairn that didn’t speak out of turn. Anyway, you’ll all likely see a bit of Tol if you see nobody else here, for as I’ve said visitors are few an’ far between here now, not like it once was. Anyway, Tol’s the nearest neighbour. His cottage is in Fuller’s Dip and the cottage is called The Dip.’ She bent towards Biddy again, saying, ‘That’s a funny name an’ all, isn’t it, for a cottage. The Dip? Don’t ask me how it came by it ’cos I couldn’t tell you. Nor could my old man, and he was born in the hamlet. He used to say it was a natural name ’cos the cottage was in a hollow: an’ it was Tol’s father’s, an’ his afore him. All forest men. The grandfather bought an’ built on a bit of freehold land with stones from an old stone ruin and timber from an old ship, lugged from the river…Would you like some more tea?’

  All the children spoke at once, saying, ‘Yes, please,’ which caused Fanny to nod down at Riah, saying, ‘Well they have manners anyway.’

  ‘I like to think they were brought up proper.’

  A few minutes later Fanny said, ‘Well, now, finish your drink and let’s away for an inspection trip.’ And on this they immediately rose from the table and stood waiting while they looked at her as she put a hand to one side of her face and muttered as if to herself, ‘Now where shall I start?’ Then turning fully to Riah, she said, ‘I’ve got no need to point out that this is the kitchen an’ here you’ll find all the things necessary for cooking except perhaps the stuff to cook with. Meals are pretty sparse ’cos I’ve had to stretch his shillin’s. But there’s one thing there’s plenty of, an’ that’s fruit. The orchard’s all overrun, but it’s there for the pickin’, goin’ rotten most of it.’ Her eyes scanned the children now as she said, ‘You can eat to your heart’s content an’ be up all night with the gripes.’ And with this she turned away laughing as she added, ‘Come on; we’ll start this way.’

  She now led them through the door to the side of the dresser and they found themselves tightly packed in another stone passage from which led three doors. She pushed them open one after the other, saying, ‘Coalhouse, pantry an’ meat store,’ adding, ‘that hasn’t seen a carcass for years. An’ lastly, wine cellar. As you can see’—she moved to one side to let them glimpse in—‘the racks are full of bottles. Unfortunately, they’re all empty. But there was a time, my old man’s father used to tell me, when there was as many as five hundred bottles on those shelves. But them dayare gone.’

  She now opened another door, giving them a warning as she did so: ‘Mind, there’s a step down.’

  When they had all stepped down, Riah saw that they were in another small hall with stairs leading up from the middle as in the main hall.

  Fanny now pushed open another four doors leading off the hall and saying as she did so, ‘This was old Mrs Miller’s sitting room. In fact, this was her end of the house, ’cos she kept to herself, I understand, the last years of her life. You see, I wasn’t here then. It was Lizzie Watson who was the previous housekeeper. I’ve always lived in the hamlet. Still do. I like me own fireside. That’s what annoys him’—she jerked her head backwards—‘I wouldn’t live in. Ten hours a day’s enough for anybody, especially when there’s nobody to open your mouth to. ’Cos there’s days when you’d fancy he’d gone dumb…Well, that was his mother’s room. Never seen a duster for months I can tell you. Well, I can’t get round to it, can I?’

  As Riah shook her head she thought, Never seen a duster for months? Years would be nearer the truth. What a pity the moths had gone into the upholstery; it must have been such a nice suite at one time.

  They followed the old woman into the next room which was a small dining room; then to a music room where a spinet stood in the corner. It had a fretwork front and the silk behind it had dropped away here and there. As Riah followed their guide up the stairs to the four rooms above and saw that their condition was much the same as those down below she kept repeating to herself: What a shame. What a shame.

  When they were once more back in the kitchen Fanny led them through the door opposite to that next to the dresser and into a set of rooms much the same as those they had left. And when again they returned to the kitchen there was only the main house to go through. And now Fanny faced them, saying, ‘Well you’ve seen the hall and the drawing room and now I’ll show you the dining room, but he hardly ever eats there. He mostly eats off a tray in his library room, except when the parson comes. Then I used to knock up a meal for them and they sat down to it properly. There’s one thing we’d better not do and that’s go near his library room. You can see that later on, but’—she lifted her hand and wagged a finger at Riah—‘don’t, on the peril of your life, try to straighten up anythin’ in there. You’ll think on first sight that a great wind had been through it, but he seems to know where everything is. Anyway, I’ll take you up above and show you his bedroom. There’s another four up there, but they’ve never been used for years. And the attic above. Oh God alive, the attic! I shouldn’t be surprised if some of the old clothes don’t come walking down the stairs one of these days, so alive will they be. I’ve only been up there a couple of times. That was when I first came and I hinted at him that a lot of the stuff could be cut down for fr
ocks and things for needy people in the village, and one of them was meself, ’cos some of the material was fine, the women’s things. And there was men’s toggery made up of fine worsted and serges. But you know, he nearly went down me throat. It’s the only time he’s ever gone for me. He told me those things were to be left alone and kindly not bring up the subject again. Oh, he played the master that day all right. Other times he talks like a lost lad. And if I say, what shall I do about this, that, and the other, he’ll say, do what you think best, Fanny. You do what you think best. But about those clothes, oh my! So don’t think, lass, when you go up there that you will be able to cut anything up for the bairns ’cos that’s one thing he’s firm on. Why? Don’t ask me, I don’t know. My man used to say it was just a quirk ’cos he had lived alone so long and the clothes were kind of memories he was hanging on to.’

  ‘Has he always lived alone here?’

  ‘No, just for the last fifteen years. Well, not that long. He came back fifteen years gone and it’s ten years ago now since his father died. And Lizzie Watson, as I said, was the housekeeper and she went shortly after. And that’s how I came in. It was my man who asked me to help out. Just for a week or two, he said; then it went into years. He was always going to leave, my man was, because he was seventy-six and bent double with gardening, and he left all right when he dropped down dead near the rose patch, three years gone. Oh aye, he left all right. And I was left here on me own with young Mr Miller, ’cos that’s what he was called when his father was alive and they never got on, his father an’ him. Different as chalk from cheese. Used to ride every day, his father did; drunk as a noodle most times; an’ gambled like somebody who had lost his brains. That’s where the money went. But young Mr Miller was a different kettle of fish. Books seemed to be his weakness. Of course it’s brandy now an’ all, but in those days it was just books, ’cos he went to this college in Oxford. And then he went teaching. Then something happened. I don’t know what, but one day he lands home and decided to stay. And that was funny ’cos when he were at the school in Oxford, he rarely came home for the holidays. His mother used to go there an’ stay with him. They were fond of each other. They must have been, ’cos when he came home that time for good they used to wander about the moors and lanes together. I’ve seen them meself, hand in hand as if he was a young lad or like a couple courtin’. Perhaps it was to make up to her, kind of, for Lizzie Wat…son.’ Her voice trailed away as she glanced quickly at the children. ‘Well, there you are. Let’s get out and see the garden, or what was a garden, an’ then I’ll show you the kitchen ropes. And that’ll be that.’