Chapter 4 – Wiping Away the Tears

It had been over two weeks since Edith had gone out with Tom on the motorcycle. The days had turned cold and rainy forcing Tom to reluctantly store the motorcycle for winter. Edith was still writing for the Sketch but she had avoided any contact with the editor. She wasn't comfortable entering into a relationship with a man who wasn't free regardless of the circumstances. The mess she had gotten herself into with John Drake had taught her a lesson. Sometimes she questioned why all of the men she seemed to attract were either married, after her family's money or absolutely ancient.

Tom's riding lessons were progressing slowly with the rain. Leech had declared his riding was now good enough to get around the estate but Tom would still require twice weekly riding lessons to be fully prepared by spring when he would be doing a considerable amount of riding on the estate.

It hadn't taken Edith long to discover the cost of paying workers and to harvest the fruit in the five orchards on the estate and shipping it to markets outweighed the price of what they could sell it for.

"It's ridiculous," Edith told Tom, Matthew and Mary one afternoon over lunch when her parents were out. "I checked with the head gardener. Whatever fruit isn't used for the house is used as feed for the livestock. There must be something that can be done with it, especially as the price of preserves is so high in the shops and there are shortages since the war. Almost everything in the shops is imported. It can't possibly be cheaper to bring cans of jam all the way from America or India than to produce it here in England."

"There's another five tenant farms with orchards on the estate," Tom volunteered. "They all have the same issue."

"It seems you have stumbled on a conundrum," Matthew said. "Any suggestions Edith?"

"It seems the solution is to turn the fruit into a product that can be sold, perhaps preserves or bottled cider," Edith replied.

"So what you're suggesting is a small local cannery or a bottling works?" Matthew asked. "It will take quite a bit of research to find out if it is a practical solution."

"I have lot's of time on my hands and I'm happy to do it," Edith replied. "The column only takes up a small part of the hours in a day."

"If you need any help with your research, let me know," Matthew said. "Once we have a better idea of what would be involved we can talk to Robert about it."

"You're doing a fine job, Edith," Tom commented. "If there's a solution you'll find it."

"You're turning into quite the professional woman," Mary said. "It suites you."

"Why Mary, thank you," Edith said, beaming at the praise from the younger generation.

Just after Christmas Edith, Matthew and Tom had the facts and numbers together to present the idea of a small cannery on the estate to Robert.

"It seems the most practical solution," Edith had told the others.

When they approached Robert, he was stunned by the detail of the research that included ever detail of glass jar suppliers, costs, and the types and variety of products that could be produced from the available produce and the return for each type of product.

"This is quite amazing," Robert proclaimed. "It speaks to the needs of our tenants as well as providing employment for the villagers. I must say well done Matthew."

"I can't take any credit for this, it was entirely Edith's idea," Matthew replied.

"And Edith's research," Tom added giving Edith a small smile of encouragement.

"You've done very well, Edith," her father said crossing over to give her a small kiss on the cheek. In a way he was glad to see Edith taking an interest in the family business instead of taking part in an occupation he didn't wholly approve of. Her weekly column still rankled his nerves. It was hard to admit. The more he pushed her away from an occupation the more determined she became. His pushing had cost him a long absence from his youngest daughter's life. It had been a hard bitter lesson and cost him time he could never reclaim.

"I'm not sure how to proceed with all this," Edith said. "Should we hire someone to set up and run the operation or contract a separate company? I'm really not sure how it would all work."

"Perhaps we should set up a meeting with Mr. Murray to determine the next step?" Matthew suggested.

The meeting broke up with Edith answering more questions from her father and a conspirator's wink from Tom before he left the room.

The Christmas holidays came and went that year. For Tom it was a hard one mixed with the joy of baby's first Christmas and the small reminders of the only holiday he had spent with his wife. As he held his daughter while she cooed and cawed at the bright baubles on the tree he couldn't help but contrast it all to small tree he and Sybil had decorated together with homemade ornaments in their Dublin flat. The servant's ball in January had been awkward in the extreme. The majority of the staff still didn't speak to him or acknowledge his presence. He had danced with the Dowager, his mother-in-law and both of his sisters-in-law before taking a turn around the floor with his daughter's nanny. He quickly made his excuses and headed upstairs to spend the rest of the evening playing with his daughter. He understood what Edith had meant about living in a house surrounded by people and at the same time drowning in loneliness. This life of elegance and formal living made what you really wanted to say on a daily basis impossible to express.

He had been lonely when he was the chauffeur. Almost no one on the estate had sought him out, but he had always been able to join the others in the servants' hall. Now he was the Estate Agent, part of the family. Tenants and villagers were cordial but treated him with deference. Other than Matthew he had no friends in the area. The only one who listened to him was his daughter and for all that mattered he could have been reading to her from a volume of Shakespeare for all she understood. For now it would have to do.

-0-

Edith stepped down from the train after a two-day trip to London and sighed. Why did her adventures into the world of romance always end in disaster, she asked herself. By the time she arrived back at the Abbey, she was exhausted. Her editor at the Sketch had asked her out yet again, this time she had agreed to go to dinner with him. Afterwards he had asked her to come back to his apartment. When she had refused his invitation he had informed her that if she didn't accept her services at the paper would no longer be required. Edith had thrown down her napkin and walked out of the restaurant and out of her job at the Sketch for good. She knew it was for the best, but she couldn't help feeling a deep sense of loss for her column.

"Why am I always so gullible and stupid," she said aloud to her empty room. It wasn't a bad day for early spring. The sun was out and the trees were starting to bud. She picked up her coat and headed out to the garden to blow away the cobwebs and think over her options. When she reached her favorite bench in the garden she sat down and twisted her gloves in her hands. She had been heavily involved in setting up the new cannery and hadn't really had a great deal of time for the column this last while.

"So why does it have to hurt so much?" she asked herself as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Because some things just do," was spoken in a soft Irish voice from a few feet away.

Tom stood in front of her holding the reins of the mare he rode regularly.

"I saw you come out to the garden as I was going by," he said quietly. "What happened in London, Edith?"

"Oh Tom, it was just awful," Edith said as he took a seat beside her. He smelled of horse sweat and shaving cream and ever so slightly of baby powder. It was a scent Edith had come to expect when she was near him and in that moment it struck her how much he was a part of her home. The tears started to flow in earnest and not a word would come out of her throat as it closed around her pain.

"Come now, it can't be all that terrible," Tom said as he slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.

Edith buried her face in his shoulder and left the tears fall.

"The editor at the sketch….asked me to…oh I can't say it," she gasped out between sobs. "When I refused he fired me…actually, I walked out. I just feel so stupid."

"You're a far cry from stupid, Edith," Tom said as he held her. One hand stroked her hair in comfort as he would a small child. "Maybe a tad too trusting, but that isn't a bad thing."

He pulled a hanky from his pocket and handed it to her to wipe her tears.

"Here wipe your tears," he said. "There has been enough of those around this place to last a life time."

"You're right. I'm being silly really. I don't really have enough time these days for the column. It was just everything else. I must look a fright."

"You look like a woman who needs a little fun in her life," Tom said suddenly changing the subject. "It's a nice day. What do you say you go and get changed and we take the bike out for a spin? It's still early. We can drive over to Malton for dinner."

"Why Tom Branson, are you asking me on a date?" Edith said jokingly. She suddenly felt none of the tiredness that had gripped her when she got off the train.

A slow grin spread across Tom's face that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"I just might be," he joked back. "Don't spread it around or you'll have all the girls around these parts after me to give them a ride on my motorbike."

"You know I'm the only one brave enough to ride on that thing with you," Edith said with a laugh.

"That you are," Tom said still smiling as he mounted and headed for the stables.

"Christ, what did I just do," Tom thought to himself as he walked back to the house. "I just asked my sister-in-law on a date, or at least I think I did." He hadn't asked a girl on a date in years. The last time had been well before he met his wife. Other than to ask Sybil to marry him, he had never asked her out. At least Edith seemed to think it was a joke. Well, maybe it was or maybe they both just needed a little cheering up and some time away from the hot house of emotion that made up life at the Abbey.

He was relieved to see Edith come down the stairs in a casual dress and carrying a heavy coat and scarf forty-five minutes later.

"I didn't think we'd be going anywhere formal, especially with the motorbike," Edith commented when she joined Tom in the hall.

"No, maybe to a pub. I don't want to be too late on the back roads with the bike," Tom replied.

He was starting to look forward to their outing and a chance to really open the Triumph up and blow the winter dust off.

"You game to go fast?" he asked her before they set off.

"The faster the better," Edith replied with a smile before they sped away from the front of the Abbey.

"Good Lord," Carson exclaimed as he watched Tom and Edith tear off down the drive at almost full speed before they made it out the gate. "He'll kill the both of them and bring shame on this house with that infernal machine. I just know it."

"Lady Edith could use a little fun," Thomas Barrow commented from behind Mr. Carson. He had come to investigate when he heard the racket of the motorbike out front.

"If you call that fun," Carson grumped.

"I would," Thomas replied with a small smile. "Especially if Mr. Branson was driving in his old riding britches," he added to himself.