Mrs. Haycock's Chronicles: a story of life-service

Front matter

MRS. HAYCOCK'S CHRONICLES. Drawn by S. C. Pemir/ather J {!■ >, -raved by T. D. Cooper. "THEN —AND OH ! TERRIBLE MOMENT — THE M \ \ CAMS OVER TOW ARDS MV SOP \." — Page 138. ' Mrs. HAYCOCK'S CHRONICLES & Starg of %fa-»txbkt. BY EMMA MARSHALL, author of joanna's inheritance,' ' hal Forrester's anchor,' 'roger beckinsal's stor. ETCj ETC " Man's weakness waiting upon God, Its end can never miss ; For men on earth no work can do More angel-like than this. He always wins who sides with God, To him no chance is lost ; God's Will is sweetest to him when It triumphs at his cost. Ill that He blesses is our good, And unblest good is ill ; And all is right that seems most wrong, If it be His sweet Will." Qonban; '•'HAND AND HEART " PUBLISHING OFFICE, I, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C. HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, PRINTERS, LONDON AND AVLESBURY.

CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. FIVE- AND- FORTY-YEARS-AGO I II. LITTLE TOM - - - 7 III. MRS. BRIGHTWELL'S VISIT 1 5 IV. ON THE COACH 23 V. PARK LANE -------- 30 VI.' TROUBLES -------- 37 VII. JOURNEYS 45 VIII. PLOTS AND FEARS - 52 IX. THE SICKNESS THAT DESTROYED AT NOONDAY - 60 X. THE TERROR BY NIGHT 67 XI. A CHRISTMAS TREE 74 XII. A DAISY BY THE ROADSIDE 8l XIII. THE MILLER'S WOOING AND WEDDING- - - 87 XIV. HOME AND OLD FRIENDS ONCE MORE- - - 94 XV. A MOTHER'S HEART - - - - - - IOI CONTENTS. IV CHATTER PAGE XVI. A CRUSHED FLOWER Io8 XVII. TWO BIRTHDAYS n5 XVIII. SHADOWS OF THE FUTURE 120 XIX. A SILENT GOOD-BYE 127 XX. THE NIGHT WATCHES 134 XXI. STRONG AS DEATH 1 42 XXII. CALM AFTER STORM 1 50 XXIII. WAITING IN HOPE 158 XXIV. THE LAST CHRONICLE - - - - -

Chapter I Five-axd-forty Years Ago

T was a beautiful May morning when I was aroused from sleep by my mother's sharp tap at the attic door where I slept with my sister Jane. ' Come, girls, get up; it is six o'clock. Don't be so lazy.' My mother's voice was quick and sharp, and we had learned to obey her. Jane yawned and grum bled, and turned her head as if she were going to sleep again ; but I started up at once ; not because my mother called me, I am afraid, but because I remembered I had a brood of chickens just hatched, and I was anxious to see they were properly fed. So distinctly is every circumstance of that morning left on my mind. That morning was the be ginning of a new era of my life. A turning-point was come unawares ; but, as I washed and dressed as usual, how little I thought of this ! I was a tall well-grown girl of fifteen ; my mother was the laundress to the great house ; my father one of the grooms.

He was younger than my I mother, and I suppose she was the better half. They were usually spoken of as Mrs. Haycock and Tom at the Court, and my father never seemed to mind that the order of things was reversed. He was a quiet, contented man, and I don't think he troubled himself much about anything beyond having his meals regularly and finding his clothes ready to his hand when he wanted them. My mother's mother had been the laundress, and lived in our cottage before us. When she died my mother took her place, and took a husband too. Jane and I were born soon after they married ; then there was an interval of five years, and then a little Tom came. The said Tom by no means ' favoured ' his father ,in looks or ways. He was a turbulent little fellow, ruling us all with a rod of iron, spoiled and troublesome beyond most boys, and yet my mother never could bear to have him contradicted.

She kept us girls in good order, and was intent on bringing us up to follow her calling, but little Tom was different. In her eyes he was what no boy ever had been before or would ever be again ;' and certainly, in point of mischief and scrapes, this was true. When I went down on this morning of which I am now speaking, I found Tom before me at the fowl-house. He had gone in, left the door open, and a big stray cat out of the village had watched its opportu nity. As I reached the spot, it rushed past me with a little downy ball of yellow and white in its mouth. ' Oh, Tom, Tom ! ' I exclaimed ; ' you naughty FIVE-AND-FORTY YEARS AGO. 3 boy. Come away directly, I say ; come away ; ' for he was kneeling over the nest, and the old hen was clucking violently, and thrusting out her head as if she wanted to peck out the eyes of the intruder. ' Tom, you have killed one poor chick.

What are you doing with that one ? ' ' Why, I was feeding it, to be sure. I got some bread and milk for them, but it won't swallow it. Its beak won't shut ! ' ' No,' I said, drawing near, ' it is choked ; you have killed it.' And, setting down the saucer of soft chopped-up egg I had in my hand, I fairly cried. ' Two dear little chickies killed by you, Tom ; and they were mine. Father said I was to keep them and sell them if I liked.' • ' The cat killed one,' said Tom. ' Here, do feed the others, Ruth.' ' Not while you are here, you may depend upon it,' I said, holding the dead chicken in my hand and pressing it to my face. ' Sweet little thing ! How could you be so cruel, Tom ?' ' I was kind, not cruel,' said Tom, stoutly. ' Hark ! that is seven o'clock striking, and I am off to the stables.

Father promised I should ride Beauty to the blacksmith's.' And, with a bang of the hen house door which sent the old hen into a fit of terror and brought a company of speckled Hamburgs from their corner, Tom was gone. Sorrowfully I counted my little brood ; nine last evening, and only seven left. Then I fed them tenderly with the chopped egg, the old hen taking her full share, and went back to the house, where I was followed by a motley crew, who were clucking and cackling for their breakfast at the kitchen door. Although the family were in London, the washing came down every other Monday evening, and was sent back on the following Friday. Her ladyship could never bear London washing ; she said the clothes never had the same sweet smell. This was the ironing day — Thursday — and my mother and her helpers were busily at work as I passed the long, low room at the back of our cottage.

Jane had set out the breakfast ; it was her turn for the housework this week, and mine in the laundry. Jane was sleepy and cross, and when I showed her the little yellow chicken, and told her how the other had been seized by the cat, she said I was ' always selfish, and thinking of my own concerns ; she had got a headache, and I might have helped her with the breakfast.' ' It's more than you ever do for me,' I might have answered, ' when it is my week about the house ; ' but I stopped myself, for I saw that Jane did look pale and heavy eyed. So I did what I could to put a finishing touch to the kitchen, and then went out, with my large linen sunbonnet on my head, thinking I would go and meet father coming home to breakfast. Our cottage stood at the side of the park, and not very far from the great gates.

The stables were about half-a-mile further up, nearer the Court. As I went along the road, under the fine spreading trees, I sang snatches of songs, and felt the freshness and FIVE-AND-FORTY YEARS AGO. 5 gladness of youth strong within me. The Court was a fine old house, standing at the top of a gentle ascent, and I could see it before me, through an opening in the trees, smiling and beautiful. It was my idea of the Palace Beautiful in the ' Pilgrim's Progress ' ; and I had followed Mrs. Brightwell, the housekeeper, through the galleries and grand rooms once or twice, as a great treat, with a feeling of awe. All my ideas of Cranworth Court were solemn. Never shall I forget the funeral procession of the old lord, as it came down the avenue and passed on to the church, where the Debrisays were buried.

The waving plumes and flowing scarfs of the mutes, and the black horses stepping so carefully with the heavy black velvet, impressed me wonderfully. And I drew a comparison between that funeral and that of Joe Parsons, at the ' Debrisay Arms,' who was carried out in a plain coffin, and everything was mean and poor. And yet death came to both alike, and what difference did the plumes, and velvets, and scarfs make to the old lord ? It was five years since he had died, and old Lady Debrisay — the Dowager, we called her — had never been to London since. But the young lord and lady and the children went every year ; and my father's place being to look after the Dowager's horses, he did not go with the family to town, as the other grooms did. I walked on and on, till I had nearly reached the stables, when I heard the sound of a horse's feet. ' Father on Beauty ! ' I exclaimed.

But no. It was Beauty coming along at a gallop, and on her back sat, not my father, but little Tom, my brother. The child had grasped the reins and mane, and was pulling both violently. He caught sight of me, and called out — ' Stop him, Ruth ; I can't hold on ; stop him.' Alas ! how could I stop him ? I heard a quick step coming down the road, and my father joined me just in time to see little Tom relax his frantic hold and fall heavily to the ground, while Beauty pur sued her way riderless.

Chapter II. Little Tom

Y father and I ran to the spot, -i and my father raised Tom in his arms. . His eyes were shut, and he was moaning heavily. ' Your mother, child ! ' my father exclaimed, as he bore the boy in his strong arms. ' Your poor mother ! Then he added, ' She'll say it was my fault.' ' Oh, father, how did it happen .? ' My fat_er was a man of very few words : — ' He came up to the stables, and Master Percy was there — he's home from school ; they were afraid there was fever in the house.' ' Oh, go on, father,' I said. ' What has Master Percy to do with it ? ' ' He was daring Tom to ride Beauty alone down the drive, — so Sam says ; and you know what our Tom is. He was up on the block before you could look round. I was in the harness room looking for a snaffle when I heard the talk. When I got down there was Beauty starting at full gallop ; but, oh dear, thy mother, lass, thy mother ! ' ' Shall I run on for the doctor ? ' I exclaimed. ' Yes, child, yes ; though I don't know how I dare carry him in like this.

Tommy, my son ! here, Tom, look up.' But there was no answer ; Tom was apparently beyond the reach of his father's voice. I took a little side path which would lead me into the avenue, and I knew I could get more quickly to the village that way. I ran like one in a dream ; every step seemed slower than the last ; but, breath less and exhausted, I reached the door of our doctor, Mr. Bond, just as the village clock struck eight. I pulled the bell violently, and the doctor's old servant looked out. ' Don't pull the house down, Ruth Haycock,' she said, ' rampaging at the bell like that. The doctor has gone to the child ; Master Debrisay came for him.' I turned without a word and set off home again. When I got there I saw some one leaning against the palings of the gate, his head buried in his hands.

It was Master Debrisay. I touched the latch of the gate and tried to pass. Then Master Percy looked up. I have seen his face many a time since — sad and laughing, gay and melancholy — but as I saw it then it is written for ever on my heart. ' Are you one of Tom Haycock's children ? ' he asked, turning up to me a haggard, frightened face. ' I wish you would tell me if the child is dead. I was close behind you in the park. I saw him fall, and ran for the doctor, but if he dies it is my fault.' LITTLE TOM. 9 ' Please, sir, let me go in,' I answered. He seized my arm. ' Come back then and tell me how he is. Promise!' ' Yes,' I said, ' I will come back.' So at last I got to the door. The large wide kitchen was full of people. All the women who worked for my mother were in a group at one side. In the midst was my mother.

Tom's head lay upon her lap, his legs were on a chair ; the doctor and my father were kneeling by ; Jane stood behind, with her hand on my father's shoulder. But I saw nothing but my mother's face — stiff, rigid, colourless ; and her voice, when at last she spoke, was terrible to hear. ' Is he dead ? ' she asked. ' Doctor, is he dead ? ' And as the question left her lips there was a flutter ing of the eyelids, and Tom, Httle Tom, sighed. ' No, he is not dead,' said Dr. Bond at last, ' but— ' He stopped, for Tom's eyes opened. Ah ! what a look they gave — an unreasoning, unknowing, blank stare. Then the white lids drooped again, and Dr. Bond said, ' Carry him upstairs.' My father held out his arms, but my mother said, ' I'll take him ; nobody shall touch him but me.' She bore him upstairs with marvellous strength, and undressed him, the doctor and my father only with her.

We all stayed in the kitchen, till at last the doctor came down with my father. ' It is a severe, very severe, concussion of the brain. The boy may live, my dear,' he said kindly, turning to Jane, who was sobbing bitterly ; 'but,' he added, in an undertone, to a neighbour who had come in, ' I fear he will never be the same again.' I alone seemed to take in the full meaning of these words. ' He will never be the same again ; ' he will never have his reason ; he will be like poor Betsy Prance, who fell off a ladder at the farm when she was nine years old, and is ' not all there ' — a helpless, harmless idiot. I saw it all. My poor mother's pride in Tom, his cleverness at his books, his won derful writing, his hard sums — all over I And indeed, wild and mischievous as Tom had been, he had been quick enough at his books when he chose.

All over ! ' Perhaps the doctor is wrong,' I said to myself, ' and he will come all right again. Il is too dreadful to be true.' The doctor was gone, saying he would call again in an hour. I went to my mother, and she turned her white face towards me. ' Well, Ruth I knew my mother was not given to much showing of her feelings, and I said, — ' I think he looks better, mother." ' He will never be any better,' she replied. ' A nice morning's work your father has done.' ' Oh, don't say that, mother. Poor father could not help it.' ' Don't tell me. He never was fit to take care of himself, let alone a child.' So bitter and hard my mother's voice sounded. Tom was her idol, and, like Jonah of old, she told herself she did well to be angry. LITTLE TOM. 11 ' Can I do anything, mother, to help you ? ' ' See to the clothes,' she answered. ' You can iron the India muslin skirt ; I put it away on the top shelf when I had dried it.

Don't let one of the women touch it. Do you hear ? ' ' Yes, we'll manage it all — Jane and I. Don't mind about anything.' My mother made no answer, only turning to dip fresh rags in cold water to lay upon the child's head ; and I left her to look after her ladyship's India muslin. When I went into the laundry I found work suspended. Several neighbours had come in to gossip, and there was a confusion of tongues. I was young to take any authority upon myself, but I did venture to say, — ' The linen must be got on with, Anne Cripps. Mother can't leave poor little Tom, and she wishes us to get the work forward.' ' Well, we know that, I suppose,' was Anne Cripps' reply. ' How be the child ? I always said he'd come to some harm, he was that wild and coltish.' It was a hard way of speaking; and then I remembered I had not fulfilled my promise and gone back to Master Percy Debrisay.

I put down the flat I had just taken from the range, and went out into the garden. Master Percy was still at the gate. I knew him well by sight, as he used to ride past on his pretty grey pony ; but I had never spoken half-a-dozen words to him before. All her ladyship's children were kept very much to themselves when the family were at the Court. Master Percy came to meet me. ' I thought you were never coming. How is the child ? ' ' He is very bad,' I said. ' He may live, perhaps, but ' ' But what ? ' ' He has not got his senses again, and I fancy the doctor thinks he never will.' ' That's stuff' was the answer. ' Why, my father was thrown when he was hunting, and was un conscious for days, and he is all right ; and so will your brother be, you may rely on it. The old muff of a doctor knows nothing ; he wouldn't tell me anything just now when he came out.

That fine little fellow will soon get well. I thought he was dead, and that's why I was in such a fright ; because, you know, it was I who made him get on Beauty, and I had no business to do it. Good-bye, Ruth Haycock,' he said ; and, with his hands in his pockets, Master Debrisay went up the road towards the Court, and I returned to the laundry. That day was the beginning of my knowing any thing of the family at the Court by personal ex perience. Days went on, and little Tom lay much in the same state, neither better nor worse, and every morning and evening Master Percy's whistle was heard as he came to enquire for the child. Strange to say, my mother did not resent the share Master Percy had in her trouble, and all her vexation fell on my father. ' He had no business to leave him in the yard with the horse,' she would say ; while amongst the servants it was commonly reported that the men in the stable-yard remonstrated with Master LITTLE TOM. 13 Percy for tempting a child like Tom to get upon Beauty's back — Beauty, who was known to be fleet of foot and tender of mouth, and who would never bear to have the rein pulled sharp by anyone.

One evening in June little Tom was carried down into the kitchen, and my mother sat in the porch with him, nursing him as if he had been an infant of days instead of nine years old. Tom had spoken as yet no coherent word ; and his large hazel eyes, fringed by their dark lashes, were vacant and ex pressionless. My father had turned away from the sight with a heavy sigh, and had gone away with slow and lingering steps towards the village. All the roses were out now, and our cottage was covered with them. I was just within the kitchen, putting a stitch into one of the muslin frills which had been torn in the wash, when I heard my mother say, — ' Does Tom see the pretty roses ? Look, there is a butterfly ! Doesn't Tom want to catch it ? ' It was just as she would have talked to a baby, and tears came into my eyes as I listened, for only inarticulate murmurs answered her. ' Hark ! ' my mother began again, ' there's the chimes ; does Tom hear the pretty chimes ? ' Then her voice altered in its tone, and I heard her say, ' God help me, for he will never hear or see any thing with understanding any more.

He'd better have died.' So she sat rocking herself to and fro with the boy she loved so well in her arms ; and the next thing was, I heard Jane's voice in the garden. ' Mother, here's Mrs. Brightwell coming in at the gate.' Now Mrs. Brightwell was the housekeeper at the Court, a person of great importance in our eyes, and, indeed, in the eyes of all the village. Mrs. Bright well drew near in all the glory of a striped blue and black silk, a black silk mantilla, light yellow gloves — which were rather too short at the wrist, and left a ridge of red between her cuff and the glove. A bonnet — ah ! how shall I picture to you her bonnet ? It was blue silk trimmed with large roses ; and she wore a veil with a lace edge, which was turned back at the side after the fashion of those days.

Chapter III. Mrs

BRIGHTWELL'S VISIT. ELL, Mrs. Haycock, how is the little boy ? Dear me, he looks strange, don't he ? Sit down ;' for my mother had half risen with Tom in her arms. ' Sit down ; I am come on important business. I wish to see both your girls.' I now came out from the room behind, and curt seyed to Mrs. Brightwell, offering to put a chair for her in the porch, which I dusted with my apron. ' Thank you, my dear. the one who gets on so You are Ruth, aren't you, well with your schooling ? And you are Jane,' Mrs. Brightwell continued, looking at my sister, who stood just outside the porch with some herbs in her hand she had been gathering to flavour Tom's broth. ' Well, I have had a letter from Lady Debrisay to-day, and I thought I'd come down myself about it, instead of sending for you, Mrs. Haycock, as I knew the child was ill.' ' Thank you, ma'am, I am sure,' my mother replied.

Any consideration shown about Tom's illness touched her. Mrs. Brightwell, who was very stout, had now with some difficulty brought a letter out of her capa cious pocket ; the rattling of keys being heard there as she fumbled for it. It was written on gilt-edged paper, folded letterwise, for envelopes were then scarcely known. Mrs. Brightwell was some time yet before she made known to us the contents, and the delay tried our patience ; she had so much to say about the difficulty of reading Lady Debrisay's hand, which was fine and pointed after the fashion of those days ; however, at last it all came out. ' " The under nurse is gone home ill. Can one of Haycock's girls at the Laundry take her place imme diately ? If so, send her up by the mail on Thurs day morning, and write to Mrs. Prance, the London housekeeper, to have her met at the office.

I prefer one of our own people ; but Mrs. Prance has a niece she could recommend : so if the girl cannot come we must ' resource' to her." ' So Mrs. Brightwell read ; she meant ' resort,' no doubt. '" Only there must be no delay.'" ' Well, what do you say, Mrs. Haycock ? which of them shall it be ? It is a fine opening.' ' I don't want to go,' said Jane. ' Ruth can go if she likes.' ' It's for your mother, I should say, to speak her mind,' said Mrs. Brightwell loftily. ' Girls should know their places, and not speak till they are spoken to.' ' I don't know if I can spare either of them,' said MRS. BRIGHTWELL'S VISIT. 17 my mother, ' now the child is so ill. Do you want to go, Ruth ?' The question had come suddenly, but I had no hesitation in replying. ' Yes, mother, if you can spare me. ' Well, I am not the one to stand in your way,' my mother said, ' but it is short notice, and your clothes must be looked after.' ' Oh ! she'll do to begin with,' said Mrs. Bright well, ' it is only the caps and aprons that are wanted, and if she will walk down to Briggs' with me, I will put her in the way of making them, and Phœbe up at the Court shall give her the pattern.

All her ladyship's under servants wear white caps tied under the chin, as you know, and white aprons. She has got print frocks, I daresay.' ' I have three,' I replied. ' Oh ! well, that will make a beginning, and your mother will be wise to let you take the place. There's many as would catch at it as a trout flies at a worm ; for it is a family to live in that one may be proud to serve. They may be lofty, and quite proper they should be. I should be sorry if they weren't ; but that's a very different thing to the airs of them that have risen up from the same as we, and perhaps from a deal lower too.' Mrs. Brightwell went on for some time in this style, and I was then told to put on my bonnet and go down with Mrs. Brightwell to Briggs', at the shop, to buy my caps and aprons. ' The Dowager has asked several times about that child in a very condescending way,' said Mrs. Brightwell in parting. 'Master Percy is a fine young gentleman, and just before he went back to Eton he told me he would give anything if he had never put little Tom on Beauty's back.' ' It is too late to say that now,' said my mother, gazing down on the child's face ; ' them that was more to Tom should have known better than to have put him on the horse.' ' Well, well ; I make no doubt your poor husband is as sorry as you are,' said Mrs. Brightwell. ' We must learn to forgive, you know.

I wish, by-the-by, you'd see that the frills of my nightcaps were made a trifle stiffer, Mrs. Haycock. They hang limp before the middle of the week, and I am particular about my nightcaps.' ' Now then, Ruth,' said my mother, ' I can't dis turb the child, for I think he has fallen asleep ; but you'll find half-a-sovcrcign in the leather purse in my workbox, and a few odd shillings ; you can take them. I never owe Briggs or no one else a farthing.' ' A good plan too,' said Mrs. Brightwell. ' Come, Ruth, make haste,' she continued, bustling off down the garden, while I lingered. ' Mother, you are sure you wish me to go?' ' Yes, yes ; it's good service. I would not let you go anywhere, but it's something to be in the house hold at the Court.' 'You don't think father will want me?' I sug gested. ' Not that I know of,' was the answer.

I could have wished she had spoken one • tender word ; but my mother never did lavish a kiss or any MRS. BRtGHTWELL'S VISIT. 19 other sign of love on either of us girls, and we scarcely missed what we never looked for. I can see my mother now, that June evening, with her poor uncon scious boy on her knee in the shadow of the porch, while all was brightness without — a golden glory of western light ; and I feel now, as I felt then, a throb of deep pity for her. God had laid His hand heavy upon her. The next day passed like a dream. I was up at work on my aprons at dawn, and long before Phœbe came down from the Court with the caps I was ready for the pattern. She also brought the alarming in telligence that I was to go up to the Court that after noon, as the Dowager wished to see me. ' Oh! dear,' I said, as Phœbe delivered her message. ' I had rather not come ; I shall be so frightened.' 'Nonsense!' said Phœbe. 'The old lady won't eat you ; she isn't a tiger.' ' But what shall I say ? ' ' Oh, make a curtsey, and say, " Yes, your lady ship," and " No, your ladyship," and then back out of the room.