‘Thank you, sir. I’ll not eat you out of house and home. There’s no need to walk me home, as your leg’s bothering you.’ Lucy stood up and cleared the plates, washing them quickly in the stone sink in the back kitchen, before returning with her cloak tied around her.
‘I’ll walk you home so far, and then I’ll watch you the rest of the way. I must admit it’s been a long day and my leg feels the worse for it. I’m going to have to realize that I’m not the man I used to be.’ Adam rose from his chair and opened the door for them both to walk out into the darkening night. They walked in silence down the dark track to the crossroads, from where Lucy’s home could clearly be seen.
‘The stars are out tonight, sir, and there’s a full moon just beginning to rise. Leave me here – look, my home’s in sight now. Watch me run down the hill to home and then go back yourself. There’s really no need to walk me back home every night; it’s only a five-minute walk.’ Lucy realized that Adam’s limp was getting worse with every step, and she didn’t want him hurting himself further.
‘Go on then, it’ll save me climbing back up the hill from your home, but I should have walked you a little further.’ Adam was thankful for her suggestion, and looked down the hill towards the row of workers’ cottages, which were easily seen in the silver of the moonlight. He watched as Lucy, with cloak and skirts billowing, ran down the hill and disappeared into her home. He turned and walked steadily back, leaning heavily on his walking stick, thankful when the lights of his home came into sight. It had been a long day, but one that he had enjoyed, and he was pleased with his choice of maid. He had but one more job to do before retiring to his bed, and that was to write a few words to Ivy Thwaite and tell her that he was home at last, and perhaps she would care to visit him. It would be good to see a friendly face, Adam mused, as he put pen to paper before calling it a night. In his letter he told Ivy of his move and his new employee, and that he had missed his old friend’s correspondence.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Adam sighed. In the dim light of the oil lamp by his bedside, he swallowed the mixture known as Kendal Black Drop and waited for the warmth of the opium, mixed with spices and vinegar, to overcome him. As he looked at the empty bottle that usually contained his preferred pain relief of laudanum, regret for his weakness at his pain filled him. He should have made sure that he had enough laudanum; instead the bottle had been empty since his arrival at Black Moss. Tomorrow he’d visit the chemist in Keighley, as he couldn’t manage without the laudanum any longer.
5
‘You’ve had a long day. Does he expect you to work these hours every day? If he does, I hope he’s willing to pay you for what you are worth, because I’m missing your help around here.’ Dorothy Bancroft lifted her head and scowled at her fresh-faced daughter as she burst into the three-bedroom cottage they considered home. ‘Our Bert is teething; Susie is wailing about, because she’s lost her doll; and I’m up to my arms in washing and ironing. It’s alright your father sending you out to work, but who’s going to help me with all our bairns?’
‘I’m back now. I’ll find Susie’s doll – she usually drops it under our bed when she’s half-asleep and forgets about it. I’ll look for it now.’ Lucy looked around her. Although they weren’t that poor, you’d never have guessed it, by the state of the house. Unlike Adam Brooksbank, her parents took no pride in their home, as they were too busy working and bringing up all their offspring.
Lucy untied her cloak and hung it behind the kitchen door and picked up the teething Bert under her arm, as she climbed the wooden stairs to the bedroom she shared with her sister. She placed Bert on the bed as he bawled yet again, his cheeks flushed with pain and his snotty nose mixing with his tears. ‘Just be quiet, our Bert – here, chew on this.’ Lucy passed the blond-haired, blue-eyed baby a dolly peg that she always carried in her pocket for him to chew on, and to ease the pain in his gums, as she lay down flat on her stomach on the bare floorboards of the bedroom and fished from under the bed a handmade rag doll that had been handed down by several members of the Bancroft family. ‘I knew where it would be. Susie should be old enough to look for it herself, instead of having tantrums and moaning about it,’ Lucy said as she looked at her young brother. He was now sobbing and fretting while holding his hands out to be hugged by his older sister, discarding the dolly peg and wanting some closer attention from his substitute mother. ‘Black Moss Farm is like heaven compared to this,’ Lucy whispered as she picked him up and wiped his snotty face on the edge of her apron. ‘Now, let’s take Susie her dolly and put something on your swollen gums, and see who else needs my attention.’
‘Oh, you’ve found it – thank God
