Chapter nine.
Walking into town the next day, Jack hummed along as he had gone to stretch his legs. Today was his Sunday off. And he wasn't about to waste it by hanging about the house. Wearing his own clothes felt almost surreal to him now, having spent the best part of three months in liveries but on his days off, he would wear what made him feel comfortable. Today, his old beaten brown boots walked the dusted dirt track down past the Post Office and towards Mrs. Beasley's cake shop. The cook at Hickory House, Mrs. Henshaw was excellent and his lordship never complained of the food served but there again, whenever Jack had served him in the main dining hall, his nose had been shoved into a document of some kind. The cakes in town, however, were like the kind his mother would make. The shop, however, wouldn't be open. Nothing was when it was Sunday rest day.
"Good mornin', Jackie. A' ya comin' darn the pub later?" Sam, one of the local miners called, his face and hands covered in grease, Jack nodded as they crossed paths.
''Sure, count me in.''
''Good lad,'' Sam tipped his flat cap, ''just not too many or we will be in the Lock up!''
''You always say that.'' Jack called, seeing Sam wave him off, making his way towards Mason Cash, the local pottery place.
Jack continued his way, watching just how the locals came and went about their day. The town centre was usually bustling on a Sunday morning, with the newspaper shops only open until midday and those with children would be hurrying towards the church to catch the morning mass or to visit family in time to enjoy a Sunday roast dinner. Others just would be out enjoying the June sunshine and running errands. Church Gresley was a small town, just outside the land which the Hockley's owned. The contrast between the two seemed to be evident; the commoners and the workers either detested the family or worshipped them, wanting to steal a glimpse whenever they came through town for whatever business they had to attend to. Along with the land, the Hockley's had become the owners of most businesses in the areas; the mills, the farms, the mine. Everything now belonged to the rich, American snob and there was nothing they hated more. The locals were proud of their origins, if nothing more. Rumour had it that they had gone on strike when originally hearing that Caledon Hockley had taken over, and he had threatened to make them all homeless if the strike took effect and so, most had gotten their heads down to work and nothing else had been heard of since. It wouldn't be the end though, Jack could sense that much...
''Good morning, Mr. Dawson, what a surprise to see you so far out this way.''
Jack squinted in the later morning rays to see Trudy Bolt, Rose's personal maid, out for a stroll with the perambulator. She drew to a close near to a grassy verge and Jack stood with her, casting his eyes across the black pram and even though he couldn't see the baby inside, he saw a bare, chunky leg peeking out from beneath a long, cream lace dress.
''Hello, Trudy, I came out for the walk.'' The two were vaguely familiar, and would exchange pleasantries when passing, but this was the first time that she had taken the trouble to pause her walk. ''How is she?''
Trudy poked a finger to adjust something inside the pram and then smiled. ''She is very alert this morning. Her ladyship said she was all smiles in the early hours and failed to allow her to rest.''
''May I?''
''Yes, she does enjoy seeing different faces.''
Jack moved to stand in front of the pram, and peeked inside where he was met by the most wonderful of smiles. A full set of gums were presented, with a fist in the air and a gurgle of some kind. Her eyes, he made out in the sunlight, were a vivid blue just like her mother's but her thick, plush, almost black curls were of her fathers colouring and were buried beneath a white frilly cap which highlighted just how plump her cheeks were. She wasn't pale but not tanned. One couldn't determine the depth of her colouring just yet, he supposed but still, Jack couldn't help but be riveted by her. Tiny hands waved about, and she widened her eyes, gurgled again and then, smiled, repeating it for about a minute as she appeared to have a thorough examination of the man standing in front of her. Jack watched her face, completely surprised by just how much she had changed in just four or five short weeks. Gone, was the tiny and feeble little creature that he had delivered and a beautiful, curly haired baby had emerged.
''She's quite the character, isn't she?'' Trudy broke through Jack's thoughts and he stood straight, plunging his hands into his pockets and resisting the urge to stroke a tender finger across the baby's cheek to test her softness.
''I think she may be a wild one, especially with that hair.''
''They all say that. Her ladyship will have to reign her in.'' Trudy smiled, and it faded off as she caught Jack's gaze and seemed to study him for a moment. ''Her ladyship thinks very highly of you, Mr. Dawson.''
''Call me Jack outside of the house. I'm not at all comfortable with being Mr. Anything.'' Moving his hair from his eyes, he took another glance at Adeline, who appeared to be riveted by him, too. ''And I think highly of her, too. She is a great lady.''
''Yes, she is, and I hope I don't speak too much out of turn, if I ask such a favour of you?''
''Not at all.''
''Her ladyship has been-''Trudy silenced herself as a young couple passed by, and even though they were at a distance, she knew what the gossip was like. Instead, she smiled, politely and raised her chin to the sky and watched the way a bird cut through the sky on a light breeze. Jack watched it too, and he couldn't help but think of Rose in that moment, until Trudy continued with her voice lowered. ''Her ladyship has been melancholy, mostly since we arrived in England. I trust this information is not new to you, she has told me just how much she has confided in you as a friend.''
''Yes.''
''So, she enjoys your company. She is a young woman. She is barely eighteen and has become a mother, living practically alone in a foreign country without so much as a friend. An ally. A confidante. Her ladyship is strong, but she is fragile. She is sturdy but innocent. I know that you serve his lordship, more than I do. You will have come across him, in the dining room, moving his luggage about and such. Most fear him, others detest him. I don't know which side are you, and this is where I may speak out of turn but, I don't know which side her ladyship is on, either.''
If Jack was taken aback, he barely showed signs and instead, he simply shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The familiar combination of anger fuelled by his lack of dedication to his wife and daughter and hatred of his absolute arrogance raked through him, twisting into a fury within his belly so much that he wasn't even sure how he kept his voice so impassive. ''I don't care for him, if that's what you mean.''
''Indeed.''
''And as long as he stays away from me, I can serve him duck, liver, and goose until he chokes on a bone.''
Jack could tell that Trudy wanted to laugh, but she knitted her lips together in a tight smile. ''But her ladyship…''
''He doesn't deserve her. Or Adeline. Or any of this. But we are no one to him. We are just shit on his shoe. But his wife. His daughter. They are the real show pieces for a guy like him.''
The bell at St. George and St. Mary's church started to ring so suddenly, that Trudy was startled as she jumped and Adeline whimpered just a little before Trudy fettled about, stroking her cheek and shushing her until she settled.
''I should get back, her ladyship may be awake and this little one will be needing to sleep soon. I thought the walk would have ensured her rest."
''Did Rose-'' he corrected, ''her ladyship seem tired this morning?"
Jack wished to add that he had failed to sleep for more than two or three hours. He had held her in the gallery until the faint cracks of light had started to show through the heavy curtains, and then, they had parted and he had sensed her exhaustion but also, her reluctance. That was the reason Jack had come into town so early. To remove his mind from Rose damned Hockley.
''She was Mr. Dawson. I doubt that she will be awake before noon.'' Trudy turned the pram about, to head back into the direction of Hickory House. ''Good day.''
Jack smiled, nodding. Biting his lip, he stood centre of the grassy verge which looked onto Gresley Common. He was distracted by people who had started to pile onto the fields, all who seemed to be clutching something or other. There were several deflated tents of all colours, and ropes adjusting several caponies atop vending carts.
''What is that?''
''There'll be a Mop Fair held at the village."
"What is that?"
"It's a hiring fair, attended by all the local residents in need of work. They wear tokens to signify their trade-a servant girl will carry a mop, a thatcher carries a tuft of straw, and so forth. Give the ones you want a shilling to seal the contract, and you'll have them for a year's employment."
Trudy darted a cautious glance at Jack.
"We don't need more servants, do we?"
''I don't know. Her ladyship has been alone for so long, I fail to see how we shall go to adjust his lordship on his return.''
''Should we be expecting him any time soon?''
Trudy raised her brow, as she shook her head. ''Not as long as I know. When he is away, it tends to be in long stretches. He was in New York for a long time before the wedding. One can only wonder why the man was so eager to marry if he stays away from his wife for so long…'' Trudy gave a troubled nod and raised her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them over her sleeves. ''I really must go.''
This time, Jack watched her leave before turning to the Mop Fair. It appeared that there would be entertainment there, too. Musicians, vendors and such. Exhaling, Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Another habit which he had stopped and continued only on Sunday's.
Jack's mind went to Rose. The handful of encounters he'd had with her were uniquely troubling. Jack couldn't recall when, if ever, he had been so affected by a woman. He was not one to involve himself in other peoples' affairs. He was loath to give advice, and he spent little time considering problems that didn't directly concern him. But he was irresistibly drawn to her. She was so deliciously serious-minded, so busy trying to just keep her head above water, it was an ungodly temptation to distract her. Make her laugh. Make her play. And he could, if he wished. Knowing that made it all the more difficult to stay away from her.
The tenacious connections she had formed with her daughter. With Trudy. Even him. The extent she would go to take care of them... that appealed to him on an instinctual level. Bohemians were like that. Free, but almost tribal. They cared for the others about them. And yet Rose was his opposite in the most essential ways, a creature of domesticity who would insist on putting down roots. Ironic, that he should be so fascinated by someone who represented everything he needed to escape from. Yet, here he was. He had put down roots. Somewhere along the last three months, he had changed but didn't know if it was for the better.
The walk back to Hickory House took much less time than Jack had anticipated, as he had mulled over everything in his mind since leaving Gresley Common. It was only as he walked through the main gates, taking in the sheer size of the house itself from the visitors view, that he had to stop to catch his breath. It wasn't just magnificent and extensive, but it was also a reminder of everything which he would never have. He would never be more than a mere man. That was always what he was proud of, never ashamed, but for one stupid moment, he almost was going to be, until a soft voice drew him to line of trees to the right of the main driveway which horse drawn carriages or motorcars were used to driving up and down. The voice seemed to be saying his name, and as he tried to find the source, his heart felt lighter as it fell upon her there with a collection of flowers of all varieties within a basket pulled to her middle.
Rose.
She wore a lilac day dress with pearl detail, cream lace gloves and a small, almost pretty hat with violets atop woven into the stitching. Her curls were shoved beneath the hat and he approached her, she tilted her head in order to see him from beneath it.
''Trudy told me that you were out, I was hoping to catch you coming back before I took tea.''
Her voice was quiet. Soft like the rain that came in summer and sprinkled life into the flowers which had wilted in the heat.
''Yeah, I walked to town. I was going to go to the pub but…'' Jack stopped, he wasn't sure why he didn't. Why he had come back to the house but then, the reason was right in front of him.
''I hear that the public house is quite the source of scandal. Which one do you go to?''
''The George and the Dragon. The Tavern. Any really.''
''I see.'' Rose drew her basket inwards, and moved her hat from shielding her face so much. ''Is it terribly scandalous if a woman attends?''
Jack smiled. ''Of course not, but if a lady went, then it would be the scandal of the year.''
Rose laughed quietly, and it was beautiful.
''I saw Adeline with Trudy, she was really looking me over.''
''Yes, I have been informed.'' Rose's delicate lace gloves touched Jack's hand which had rested against the branch of a tree for just a second and he found her gaze, penetrating him for just a minute. ''Thank you for interacting with her. She sees so few people that I cannot imagine just how boring it must be for her. I plan to take her for walks myself now that i seem to have regained my strength.''
''I am glad to hear it.'' Jack gazed at her hand atop his and tried to not react. ''I want to thank you for showing me the gallery last night. I couldn't sleep so much after.''
''Nor I.'' Rose quietly confessed. ''You see, I fear my daughter is already so alike me in the aspect that she so rarely has interactions that I struggle to not wish to speak endlessly afterwards.''
''You do like to talk.'' Jack joked, and she smiled, tenderly. ''I like it. I like hearing you talk about absolutely everything.''
''I am too curious by nature.''
''There is never such thing as being 'too curious' only those who wish to be ignorant.''
''Again, you speak with such knowledge. With such wisdom.''
''And again, you seem to not have experienced much in your life and I have had too much.'' Jack was going to move his hand but thought the better of it. He even took her fingers within his palm and she allowed him to, but as he cautiously glanced back to the house to see if they were in full view of the windows, he saw that she didn't even give such a care.
''There is a Mop Fair over at Gresley Common, it starts tonight. Can I take you?''
Jack had spoken before his mind had even processed it.
''A Mop Fair?''
''Yes, it is where employers hire their servants or whatever staff they need.''
''I don't need more staff-''
''Not as an employer. But as a commoner.'' Jack put on a broad local dialect, and Rose lifted her hand to laugh delicately.
''That would be absurd.''
Jack knew it would be. ''Yes, but it would be fun. I could find you some servants clothes, or if you have something that could disguise you as someone less-''
''Of a lady?''
''Yes.''
Together, they burst out laughing.
''What does a Mop Fair entail?''
''Well, I have never been to one, but it looks like a regular fair. Hot dogs…carousels…music…maybe even a high striker.''
''A high what?'' Rose was amused, he could tell, and he hoped that she would at least contemplate it.
''And if you don't like it, then I will take you to the Tavern in a dark corner and we can drink cheap beer until you throw up.''
''For Heaven's sake, you are crazy!'' She leant to place the basket on the floor beside the trunk of the tree and carefully, she removed her hat to reveal two tendrils of hair aside her forehead and the rest pinned tightly to her head. Her face was flushed from the warmth and she looked pleasantly well-rested. ''And I do hear that we have been forecasted quite the summer showers later on today.''
Jack examined the sky, as though it would speak to him. A few darker grey clouds hung in the otherwise pale blue sky.
''All right, well I don't say that I didn't ask.'' He raised his brows, knowing that he was lightly flirting but it came so naturally that he almost never noticed.
''Wait! I never said that I wouldn't go.''
''You called me crazy!''
''Well, it is true.''
Jack stepped closer to her. ''You once called me rude, and I think that it is you who is the rudest one of us both.''
''You would wound me if you were serious.''
''How do you know that I am not serious?''
''Because I know you.'' Rose stepped closer to him. Their faces are a mere inch apart. This time, once they both heard what she had said, they both fell serious. Jack viewed her face, and she was parting her lips to breathe as though there was no air. He wanted to kiss her then and there. He was on a dangerous line. Another barrier had been crossed. Every day, another barrier was torn down and to invite her to the fair would no doubt be the worst thing for a man like him to do.
''I know you, too.'' His voice was soft. ''I know how you work.''
''Oh?''
''Yes. And I know that you want to go to this fair.''
Her response was a giggle, so light and infectious that as she stepped away, he felt cold and alone. Replacing her hat atop her head, she leant to retrieve her basket and turned about to head back to the house. It was only when she was a few steps away that she turned back to speak.
''Meet me at the servants exit at nine this evening. It should be almost dark by then. And I shall have time to disguise myself as the wife of a common miner.''